The Perfect Kiss (6 page)

In no hurry to put the man’s mind at ease, Zach looked out the window at the dimly lit club. The brick facade had been painted black, the windows were tinted and barred, and the carved wooden door—also painted black—was tightly shut against the street. One small sign over the door glowed Nosferatu’s in dark red neon.

“This is the place,” he agreed, reaching for his wallet. He tipped the man generously and climbed out of the car, then stood staring at the dark exterior of the club. Behind him, the taxi pulled from the curb and headed down the street. For a moment, Zach experienced the oddest feeling of abandonment.

Then he shrugged it away. Somewhere inside, Anya was waiting for him, and that thought pleased him. He strode toward the entrance. Nosferatu’s was like any other club, and he’d frequented enough of them not to be surprised by anything.

He pulled back the heavy door, stepped inside, and realized how wrong he’d been.

Nosferatu’s was unlike any club he’d ever been in. It was dark and smoky, but that wasn’t unusual, and neither was the rock group performing a song about Bela Lugosi being dead. The club’s patrons were mostly young with emaciated bodies, heavily made-up faces, and clothing that was expensive, androgynous and black. But none of those things was unusual, either—not in this city.

No, what was strange and unsettling about Nosferatu’s was something Zach was hard put to define. The atmosphere
was dark and decadent. It reeked of immorality, of decay, and there was a disturbing undercurrent of tension, a quiet excitement in the air that made the hair at the back of his neck stand on end.

It was as though the dank, cavernous room held secrets, secrets so black they could only be mentioned by dark and by whisper. They were secrets not to be believed by daylight.

Zach walked around the room, ignoring the appraising looks of women and men alike as he searched the crowd for Anya. He finally chose a table in a shadowy corner far away from the band and facing the door, so he could watch for her. He slipped off his coat and tried to concentrate on the music.

Someone approached his table, and he looked up in surprise. A woman smiled down at him, her crimson lips curving upward in a manner that looked almost feline, predatory. Her dark eyes were rimmed with black, and her lashes were heavily layered with mascara. When she leaned toward him, long black hair curtained her face, making her appear almost sinister.

“I’ve never seen you in here before,” she said in a voice that easily carried over the din of the band, though she didn’t appear to be shouting.

Zach shrugged, watching the woman’s eyes. They seemed to reflect a thousand different colors of light. “I’ve never been here before. But I’m meeting a friend.”

The dark brows arched in surprise. “You’re meeting a friend in
here?
”

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

“Not for me.” Again the feline smile. “It’s nice to see a new face in the crowd. We always welcome fresh blood. My name’s Monique.”

“Zach,” he supplied, offering his hand as the woman
extended hers, then wanting to draw his away immediately when contact was made. Her skin was cold. Ice cold. When he pulled his hand away, Monique laughed, the sound like a silver bell in the thin air of the club.

Another young woman drifted up behind Monique, her concave body so thin she almost looked postmortem. She stared at Zach with avid curiosity as she draped her arm over one of Monique’s shoulders.

“This is Zach, Eleni. He’s waiting for someone,” Monique said with a sly smile. Neither of the women removed their gazes from Zach, and he began to feel extremely uncomfortable with their attention. He was no stranger to bold women, but there was something distinctly distasteful about their interest in him.

“He’s waiting for
me,
I hope,” Eleni said, her tiny red mouth a perfect Cupid’s bow.

Behind her, another voice spoke. “He’s waiting for me.”

Zach hadn’t even seen Anya approach, but she was standing beside them suddenly, her silvery hair glowing like moonlight as it fell down her back. She, too, was dressed in black, a skintight one piece thing that molded to perfection every line and curve of her graceful body.

Zach’s stomach tightened with excitement. Something stirred inside him, and he got up from his chair.

The other two women were also staring at Anya, looking her up and down, their noses turned upward, their expressions faintly challenging. Anya met their gazes without wavering, her expression coldly determined. The tension bristled between the three for a moment, like alley cats staking their territory. Then Monique and Eleni turned and, without a word, drifted away into the crowd.

Anya took the chair across the table from him, and Zach sat back down, his smile wry. “Why do I get the feeling something just went on here that I completely missed?”

Anya shrugged, folding her lovely, pale hands on the table. On one slender finger, a ruby glistened against the whiteness like a dark drop of blood.

“I shouldn’t have invited you here,” she said.

“It’s different, I’ll grant you that. There’s an…uneasy feel to the place.”

She seemed surprised. “You sensed that already?”

“It’s hard not to. I’m a little surprised that you would pick this place. You don’t belong here at all.”

Her eyes hardened, glistened like chips of ice. “How do you know that? You don’t know anything about me,” she reminded him coolly.

Zach shrugged, watching the light play fascinating tricks on her face. Her skin seemed to absorb the light, then reflect it back. And her eyes were so clear, yet deep and extraordinary—he could easily sink into their depths and lose himself forever.

“Maybe I
don’t
know anything about you,” he acknowledged. “Maybe that’s what I find so…interesting.” Sexy, he’d almost said. Appealing. Alluring. Captivating. She was all those things and more.

The waitress arrived to take their order and was back fairly quickly with their drinks. He lifted his Scotch and water. “So here’s to getting to know you better,” he said. “And to a partnership that can be mutually profitable to us both.”

He raised his drink to his lips, but Anya merely stared into her glass, seemingly mesmerized by the dark red wine inside. Then she lifted her gaze, and the look in her eyes made Zach’s senses spin completely out of control.

They were the most haunted eyes he’d ever seen, and without thinking, without rationalizing his action, he reached for her hand. At first she withdrew, but then her fingers tangled with his, pale skin against tanned, cool flesh
against warm, and for a fleeting moment in time, Zach had the strangest feeling that he’d just seen a glimmer of light at the end of a very dark tunnel.

Then Anya broke the bond. She removed her hand from his and curled her fingers around the stem of the wineglass. She lifted the drink to her mouth, but the wine barely seemed to touch her lips.

Zach drained the contents of his own glass, shaken by what had just transpired between them. He’d known from the first he was attracted to her, dangerously attracted, but that he could handle. That wouldn’t get in his way.

But this other thing. This need that went beyond the physical was something he couldn’t understand, something he couldn’t accept. There was no room in his life for this. His feelings for Anya Valorian could easily destroy everything he’d worked so hard to achieve. She could make him lose his perspective, make him doubt his own judgment. Success was within his grasp. Vindication would be his at last. He couldn’t afford to let anything—or anyone—steer him from his course.

He stood abruptly and grabbed his coat. “Let’s get out of here.” He half expected her to argue, but instead she gathered up her own coat while he threw some bills on the table, and together they made their way through that strange and parasitic-looking group who patronized Nosferatu’s.

* * *

Anya stood just inside the door of the club, and waited for Zach. It was cold outside, and he’d noticed her trembling, insisting that she remain inside while he hailed a cab.

Why had she asked him to come to this place? she wondered in disgust, then in the next instant answered her own agonized query. Because this was a part of her life, a part of who she was, and in some perverted way she’d wanted Zach to understand that. She’d wanted him to recognize
that the evil inside this place also existed inside her. She wanted him to realize that the uneasiness he felt in the club was just an echo of the way he felt around her. She wanted him to
know
…without really knowing.

She couldn’t tell him outright, of course. There was no way she could ever tell him. He wouldn’t believe it, anyway, wouldn’t be able to accept it. He’d want to help her, and that she could never allow. Few people knew about her, and Anya intended to keep it that way.

Her survival depended on secrecy.

So she’d had him come here. She’d let him glimpse the darkness, let him feel the danger and evil that simmered inside this club and inside her soul.

She’d expected his surprise, his confusion, even his disgust. What she hadn’t expected was his compassion.

Zach Christopher was like no man she had ever known. He made her feel things that were utterly forbidden to her now. He made her want things that were lost to her forever. He made her want
him,
and that was the most deadly threat of all.

To both of them.

Anya closed her eyes and let herself feel his presence through the door. Even from so far away, she could feel his warmth, feel the disturbing emotions swirling inside him. And there was something else she sensed. Something dark and sinister.

Evil.

And
it
wanted Zach.

Heart pounding in her throat, Anya pushed at the heavy, wooden door. Unyielding, the door resisted even her strength. It was a barrier now as strong and insurmountable as sunlight. Anya leaned her shoulder into it, shoved with all her might. The door should have splintered into a thousand pieces from the force of her exertion, but it remained
solid, invincible, as though a hand stronger than hers pushed from the other side. The sense of danger cloaked her like a dark and heavy shroud.

Zach!

She screamed his name silently in warning. What had she done by bringing him here? She had been so sure it would be safe. She didn’t think anyone would dare touch him here. Gershom was thousands of miles away.

But now Anya was trapped inside.

And Zach was outside, unaware of the danger that stalked him.

* * *

Then suddenly, almost as though it had merely been taunting her, the door flew open. Wind gusted in, tangling the long strands of Anya’s hair across her face. The draft seemed unnaturally cold. Shaking, but more from fear than the frigid air, Anya rushed through the door to the sidewalk.

Zach was in trouble, desperate trouble. Like a shadow, the blackness crept over her. She could feel the danger all around them. All because of her.

All because she had dared to want something that could never be.

Frantically Anya scanned the street, her heart pounding painfully against her breast. The wind whipped at the black wool cape she wore. It tore at her hair, swept across her face like the cold hand of Death.

Was that laughter she heard?

Was it Gershom’s laughter that mocked her?

“Zach! Zach, where are you?”

“Anya! Over here!”

At the sound of Zach’s voice, Anya whirled and saw him standing several yards up the street near the curb, flagging a cab. The approaching car’s headlights picked him out, illuminating him with brilliance.

But all Anya noticed was his smile.

He was smiling at her, and he was safe. She felt weak, dizzy with relief. Without stopping to think about her actions, she ran across the street toward him. The moment she stepped near him, Zach placed his arm around her, so very naturally, drawing her against his warmth. His body was lean and hard, very solid and dependable. It was tempting to lean against him, to let him hold her, to let him make her feel safe again. Safe and warm.

But that couldn’t be. That could never be. She was risking too much.

And she had been warned.

Across the miles, across the darkness, Gershom’s hold had tightened, reminding her all too painfully that she could never know the love of a man.

“You’re so cold,” Zach murmured against her hair.

As if to prove his point, Anya shivered. Zach tightened his arm around her, and she allowed herself to enjoy the sensation for a moment. But only for a moment. Then she pulled away, her eyes stinging with unshed tears.

Fool! she admonished herself. Did you think you could get away from him so easily? Did you think you could forget who and what you are because you want to so badly? Did you think you could make the past go away by wishing?

Bitter shame washed over her. Shame for what she had done so many years ago and for what she had become because of one impulsive night. And with the shame came sorrow, a deep, heavy despair for what could never be.

She moved even farther away from Zach. “I’m fine,” she said stiffly, pulling her cloak tightly around her neck as if for protection.

She saw confusion flash in his eyes, then anger. She knew her words had sounded harsh, cold, a rejection. But
what else could she do? Zach Christopher had already gotten closer to her than any man had in a long, long time. How could she permit that? How could she knowingly place herself—and him—in a situation that could only lead to disaster?

She climbed into the back of the cab, and Zach followed her, slamming the door. The sound seemed to echo a finale in the empty hollow that was her heart.

“Where to?” the cabdriver asked.

Zach turned to her, his expression resolute. “The night’s still young, and we still have a lot to talk about. Where shall we go, Anya?”

She gave the cabdriver her address, then reluctantly turned back to face Zach. Her voice wasn’t as strong, nor as convincing, as she would have liked. “I think we’ve said all there is to say.”

One brow arched sharply. “You may have said all
you
wanted to say, but
I
certainly haven’t. We had an agreement, remember? You were going to listen to my proposal.” Zach settled back against the shabby upholstery, but his gaze remained fixed on her. “Frankly, this whole routine is wearing a little thin, Anya. I’ve offered you a very generous contract. What more do you want?”