Night's Cold Kiss (4 page)

Christian offered his hand to Antoinette, only to have it ignored a second time. He shrugged and returned it to his pocket before leaving the room.

Christian approached the waiting limousine.

“Mr. Laroque, sir,” the chauffeur said, tipping his cap as he held open the rear door.

“Take me to the hotel, Mike.” Christian glanced back one last time, shook his head, and climbed into the seat. “I think I need a stiff drink,” he murmured to himself.

Having met Antoinette face-to-face, he began to doubt whether they’d be able to remain in the same room for more than five minutes, let alone work together. He needed to think.

As the chauffeur closed the door behind him, Christian sank back into the luxurious leather seat and frowned. She’d seemed intriguing and clever when she’d dealt with the dreniac in Miami, but the meeting tonight hadn’t quite gone to plan. He hadn’t anticipated how extreme her resentment would be. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

There must be some other way.
Dammit!

Antoinette watched the Aeternus leave. He didn’t just move, he flowed. Like a river that ran deep—calm on the surface but with power and danger hidden beneath. Her mouth dried.

The moment he was gone she turned on her uncle. “How could you let that creature in here?” Her whole body trembled, bitterness rising in the back of her throat.

“He came to me with important information.” Sergei shook his head sadly, his disappointment creasing the corners of his eyes. “Please sit. We have a lot to discuss.”

But the anger wouldn’t let her. She paced back and forth, frustrated and afraid. What was her uncle thinking? Sergei waited, silent and stony until she sank into her seat.

“You know of the CHaPR Treaty and what it means for the continued safety for all races,” Sergei said. “And you know your great-great-great-grandfather, Nicolae, was an instrumental part in its creation. That is why the first-born Petrescu son bears his name.”

The first thing any Venator learned was the laws of the CHaPR Treaty and the history surrounding its conception.

“For centuries, the Aeternus hunted humans and dreniacs went unchecked. In turn we hunted them and the war was bloody with huge losses on both sides.”

“I don’t need a history lesson, Uncle.” Her side hurt and a headache pounded behind her eyes. The last thing she wanted was a fight with her uncle, but her temper was growing short.

Sergei closed his eyes for a brief second, a sure sign she’d pushed the boundary of his tolerance. He removed a chain with a small key from around his neck and unlocked a drawer in his desk. He placed a velvet-wrapped bundle on the desk before peeling back the layers of deep burgundy cloth to reveal an ancient leather-bound book.

“It’s the journal of the first Nicolae Petrescu, our ancestor. The Guild would have it locked away in a huge vault if they knew it existed, but it’s our family legacy, passed from generation to generation.”

Her uncle ran his hand reverently over the embossed cover.

“This is the family crest. In these pages, Nicolae tells of secret meetings between himself and Ignatius, Christian’s father, one of the most powerful Aeternus Elders. Nicolae was also an influential man among his people, but he mourned the loss of three sons and didn’t want to lose any more. Ignatius had losses of his own—his first wife and daughter were murdered in an attack on his estates in Bulgaria. Both men were tired of the bloodshed and devastation the war had yielded, and wanted to live in peace.

“They continued to meet secretly for some time and jointly formed a plan to bring the two sides together for peace talks. The very first meeting was arranged for the night of the full moon in July 1887. Three Aeternus emissaries arrived at a designated meeting place in Budapest, including Ignatius, who acted as their spokesman. When the talks were well under way, Emil, Nicolae’s brother, attacked with a group of men. They murdered Christian’s father and wife when they killed the Aeternus emissaries.” Sergei paused, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Antoinette knew the rest of the story. Christian, enraged with grief over his father and wife’s murder, began hunting down and slaughtering all those responsible. He killed so
many rebels while tracking down the traitors, that he earned his title the Crimson Executioner.

Talk of peace seemed impossible until Christian, the one they’d all expected to lead the attack against the humans, approached Nicolae instead. Christian’s grief had not been sated by the carnage he’d wrought; in fact his remorse was so great, Nicolae took pity on him. But the Aeternus Council of Elders would never agree to peace while the one man responsible for the attack was still free. Nicolae had to make the most difficult decision of his life. Face more war and more death or give up his only brother, Emil.

Nicolae chose the latter, with the assurance that in return for his support with the Aeternus Elders no repercussions from the humans would be taken against Christian for the deaths he’d dealt. If the Crimson Executioner could be made to see reason, then there was hope for them all. From that single act of cooperation and mutual trust, peace talks became possible again.

Emil was tried by the Aeternus Council of Elders and sentenced to death by public beheading, only this time Christian looked on instead of playing the executioner.

“What does this have to do with the present and the Aeternus’s visit?” Antoinette looked up, trying to maintain a calm appearance.

Sergei stood up and limped around the desk, his cane thumping on the floor until he came to a stop beside her. “Christian is not our enemy. You have to let go of the past.”

“But Uncle—” All that history happened over a hundred years ago, but she couldn’t get past the fact Christian had slaughtered so many humans in cold blood.

Sergei straightened. “I’ve decided that we should attend the annual CHaPR conference this year. I need to talk to some old friends.”

“But, Uncle, they’ve been trying to get you to go for years and you always steered away from the politics of the Guild and CHaPR. What’s different now?”

“You need to have more exposure to parahumans; you’ve
isolated yourself from contact for far too long. It’s time to live in the real world, Antoinette.”

Antoinette glanced at Sergei, the sting of his words cut deep.

His expression softened. “Look, if half of what Christian tells me is true, we may be in for some very rough times. I need to look into these incidents myself, and what better place to start than at the conference all my colleagues will be attending? The evidence Christian brought points to the involvement of someone within the Guild itself. I need to be sure before I turn my back on the Guild once and for all.”

Antoinette narrowed her eyes. “That’s impossible. Why would the Guild be involved? Its purpose is to protect us from
his
kind—why should we trust the word of a filthy bloodsucker?”

Antoinette’s head rocked back, the side of her face stinging. She looked up at her uncle’s thunderous face and raised her hand to her cheek. Sergei had never laid a hand on her before but then she’d never spoken with such disrespect either.

“Firstly, we owe Christian a personal debt.” Sergei’s voice took on a harsh yet controlled tone. “Christian saved your lives when he brought you and Nici to us. And…” Sergei leaned forward on his cane, his face grim. “Let’s not forget what else occurred when The Troubles plagued us last time—you lost both your parents.”

It didn’t really matter what hotel Christian was in, they were all the same. He headed straight for the bar and ordered a double scotch straight up. He downed it in one mouthful and signaled for another.

“Went that well, did it?” a familiar voice asked.

“Join me for a drink, Viktor?” Christian turned to catch the amused glint in his friend’s amber eyes.

“Sure, if you’re buying.” The handsome blond man’s laughter attracted the attention of a nearby stunner who fluffed her bleached blond hair and smiled in their direc
tion. Viktor chuckled again, slapping Christian’s shoulder. “But let’s go somewhere more…private.”

They walked to an alley a few blocks away and arrived just in time to see the large, bald doorman turning away a curious human couple.

“Evening, Keith,” Christian said to the giant ursian bouncer who resembled an African god carved from polished obsidian. “More curious tourists I see.”

“Mr. Laroque, Mr. Dushic.” Keith greeted each of them with a nod of his large scarred head and turned to watch the drunken couple stumble back the way they’d come. “The Princess has stopped all unescorted humans from entering.”

Christian had seen it before, dozens of times. Human males try to impress their girlfriends by taking them to an exotically dangerous club and end up with more than they bargained for when some horny or thirsty Aeternus starts fanging on their date.

“Is your mistress in tonight?” Christian asked.

“Yes, sir.” Keith’s voice rumbled as he reached out a colossal arm to hold the door for them. “The Princess is within.”

Before entering, Viktor stopped. “Is there anything special on the menu?”

“I’m sure
she
has something to your taste, Mr. Dushic,” Keith replied.

The club’s gloom was welcome after the bright streetlights and they walked down a hall lined with gauzy curtained privacy cubicles. Sighs and moans emanated as they passed. This club was different from the one Christian usually frequented in New York, but he enjoyed the change of scene.

Christian and Viktor stopped at the entrance to the club’s inner sanctum where a DJ played for an undulating crowd on the dance floor.

The Princess stood on the other side of the room talking to a group of people but immediately turned in their direction as if sensing their presence.

The tall dark-skinned woman smiled as she came toward
them. Her white lace dress left very little to the imagination: high rounded breasts nearly spilled out of the thin strips of cloth that passed for a top, and the high splits of her skirt left her long, shapely legs bare to the hip. She moved like the royalty she was, and the crowded dance floor parted before her.

Christian placed her outstretched hand to his lips. “Akentia—you’re looking as lovely as ever.”

The regal Aeternus Elder accepted his compliment with a graceful tilt of her head. “And you, Christian, are as charming as ever.” Then she turned her smile on his companion. “Viktor, it’s been a long time. I was sorry to hear I’d missed you last night.”

“I only came with Christian on this trip to bask in your beauty, highness.” Viktor flashed his extended fangs and kissed her offered hand.

The lushness of her full lips meant she’d recently fed and her white teeth glowed in stark contrast to her ebony skin as she returned his smile. “Liar! I am sure my presence is not what brings two of the Department’s finest to my little club. You’ll need a private room, yes?” She turned and clicked her fingers. “And I’ll have my children attend you.”

Immediately two of Akentia’s “children,” as she referred to her donors, appeared at her side; one a raven-haired girl dressed in a skintight black leather mini dress and the other a stunning blond man in a white see-through body shirt and matching snug leather pants.

“They’re fresh,” Akentia said, smoothing the hair on the girl’s head. “This one hasn’t known the fang.” She reached out and slid a cool palm down Christian’s cheek. “You could be her first—we could both be her first.”

Akentia offered him a compliment and he was tempted. To awaken a fang-virgin to the delights of feeding was a beautiful experience for both participants, and with Akentia involved it was sure to be explosive.

Viktor licked his lips and ran his hand across the young man’s chest. He didn’t discriminate between the sexes when
it came to feeding or pleasures of the flesh. Man or woman, he enjoyed both equally.

But, much to his own disappointment, Christian bent over Akentia’s long slim fingers and brushed them with his lips again. “We’ll take the room, Princess, but we have much to discuss and can’t afford the distraction. Perhaps another time?”

Disappointment flashed across Viktor’s face, but then he nodded. “Sorry, Princess, but he’s right I’m afraid.”

“Anything you wish, my dear boy.” Akentia’s hand slid across Christian’s chest, her own eyes reflecting the glimmer of regret. “Marcus, show these gentlemen to the Peacock Room, and bring them a couple of bottles from my private stock.”

“Yes, Mistress,” the boy said, bowing low and then leading the way.

He pressed a panel to open a hidden door behind a velvet curtain, holding it aside so the two men could pass. They entered the tastefully decorated room. A one-way mirror filled the length of the wall and looked out onto the dance floor. Plush leather lounges were scattered around for comfort and pleasure. Viktor closed the curtains on the dancers and then sat opposite Christian. “So did he believe you?”

Before Christian could answer, the boy reappeared carrying a tray and placed it on the low table. He exchanged a quick heated glance with Viktor before withdrawing. Viktor watched him until the door closed.

“Sergei couldn’t ignore the evidence,” Christian said when he was sure they were alone again. “But it was better that you didn’t come with me in the end. Good call.”

“She’s definitely Grigore’s daughter.” Viktor pulled the cork stopper from the bottle and poured a splash of crimson into the glass. After a sip, he smiled approvingly. “Akentia’s taste is impeccable, as usual.” He filled a fresh glass and passed it to Christian before refilling his own. The freshly drawn blood warmed the glass in Christian’s hand. Viktor sat back and draped an arm along the back of the lounge.

“What did he say?” Viktor asked, growing serious.

“I think he’ll agree to his niece’s involvement.” Christian drained the crimson nectar and placed his empty glass back on the table.

“Excellent. Just what I’d hoped but we still have to be careful who we trust.” Viktor said, pouring himself some more, then offered the bottle to Christian.

He shook his head. “How do you know you can trust me?”

“Who says I do?” Viktor’s stoic expression held no hint of humor, then it dissolved into a grin.

For a moment Christian had the impression his friend wasn’t entirely joking. Viktor’s grin faded, but the warmth didn’t leave his eyes.

“Christian, my old friend, you could never lie to me. Take Dominique, for example. I knew you were in love with her long before you’d even admitted it to yourself. Every time you denied it, I could hear the truth in your voice and see it in your eyes when you looked at her.”

Pain pierced Christian’s heart at the mention of his late wife’s name. She’d been kindness and love personified. The war tore at her heart with each loss of life. “All that useless death and destruction,” she used to say. So when his father had approached them about a truce with the humans, Dominique had jumped at the chance, even though Christian had thought it was insane. She’d quickly joined Ignatius’s cause, agreeing to be an emissary, but when they’d been murdered Christian had wanted to wipe humanity from the face of the earth.

Viktor had saved him then; he’d opened Christian’s eyes to the fact it wasn’t humans he was angry with—it was himself for not being there to protect them.