Blood Eternal (14 page)
“Deal,” said Dante fervently. He began to hope again.
Unease stayed with Elizabeth as she walked out of the bathroom into the bedroom. She couldn’t help the quick, anxious glances she cast toward each window and the bedroom door in turn. With the curtains still closed, the streaming sunlight was dimmed and the whole room seemed full of shadows she hadn’t noticed before. Her spine prickled. Despite the heat of the early morning, she wished she hadn’t put the air-conditioning on. It drowned out the tiny sounds that might give her warning.
Warning of what?
she derided herself. It was daylight, the sun bright and intense enough to burn a human, never mind a vampire. But reason had little to do with this fear; it was heightened by the sense of invasion, because this house, however temporarily, was
theirs
. And she recognized what Mihaela had been dealing with on a far larger scale for most of her life.
she derided herself. It was daylight, the sun bright and intense enough to burn a human, never mind a vampire. But reason had little to do with this fear; it was heightened by the sense of invasion, because this house, however temporarily, was
theirs
. And she recognized what Mihaela had been dealing with on a far larger scale for most of her life.
As she approached the bed, holding her towel under chin like a shield from the threat that couldn’t be there, a shadow moved in the corner by the window. Reason snapped. She jumped, grabbing up the already used stake from the night table, and stood poised, staring at the still-moving shadow that seemed to detach itself from the curtain. A big, tall shadow that would always be threatening, because it reflected the lethal body of Saloman.
Relief washed over her fear, leaving her weak and pointlessly irritated. “What the hell are you doing skulking there?”
“I do not skulk,” Saloman said. For once, Elizabeth didn’t know whether he was joking. “I was merely admiring your view while avoiding the sun.”
Elizabeth dropped onto the bed, hurling the stake down beside her so hard that it bounced. “I still don’t see how you got up here in this.” She waved her hand at the window, indicating the strong sunlight.
Saloman’s gaze lifted from her towel to her face. “I came in at dawn, singed but undamaged. Thank you for asking.” He stood very still at the foot of the bed. “I perceive the conquest of your night visitors has not sweetened your temper.”
Elizabeth grasped a handful of her damp hair and tugged. This wasn’t how she’d meant it to be. She’d planned to welcome Saloman with open arms to make up for sending him away the last time. She wanted him; she wanted his arms hard around her, wanted him buried deep inside her, loving her, rocking her to the blind, addictive ecstasy only he had ever brought her. More than that, she craved his presence, as necessary to her now as breathing. And she knew that in denying him when he needed her, she’d let him down. If he’d wished to lose himself in sex with her, she should have taken that as a compliment rather than an insult. What was her incomprehensible, even childish, need for outward “respect” beside the facts of need and love?
And yet here she was bitching at him again like a nagging wife berating her husband for staying out all night even though she’d changed the locks.
She found herself staring at her hand in her lap, longing to make things right and yet somehow incapable of finding the way, or even the words.
“Elizabeth.” She hadn’t felt him move, but he was crouched at her feet, his strong, cool hand covering hers in her lap. Every nerve leapt at his touch. As if he’d pressed a button, her lips tugged upward in instant response.
“You know about our visitors?” she managed.
“I can feel them,” he said with a hint of impatience. “I confess I didn’t expect them to attack this place, but I knew you and the hunters could defeat them. Was it difficult?”
“It might have been. They broke into Konrad’s room and could have killed him. I was awake—maybe I heard something, sensed them; I don’t know. I just felt something was wrong, so I was prepared.” She turned her hand in his to grasp his fingers. “It shook all of us, me included. I’d grown too confident, too . . .
smug
.” She gave a quick smile. “Maybe I’m just angry because I liked this house and now it isn’t safe. And I’m afraid I’ll never feel safe again.”
When you aren’t here.
smug
.” She gave a quick smile. “Maybe I’m just angry because I liked this house and now it isn’t safe. And I’m afraid I’ll never feel safe again.”
When you aren’t here.
She didn’t like that either. She wanted to be independent of his power, and she wanted him to know it. Even though she couldn’t help but benefit from the umbrella of his protection now that most vampires in the world knew she was Saloman’s companion. Well, apparently there were vampires to whom that made her not out-of-bounds but a desirable target.
She realized she was agitatedly rubbing his fingers between her own and forced herself to stop. Saloman gazed at her consideringly. There was no anger in his dark, opaque eyes. Somewhere close to the surface lurked the flames of lust that sparked an inevitable response in the pit of her stomach.
But his words had nothing to do with sex. “You woke early. Like a mother who wakens before her baby cries. You sensed my presence, although not my identity, as you came into the room, even though I was masking.”
Elizabeth frowned. “You mean I can use that instinct? Develop it to protect myself and my friends?”
“Of course. We are all vulnerable at times, even I.”
Her heart melted, because she knew that. “How do you deal with it?” she whispered. She wasn’t sure if she meant the physical vulnerability or the emotional one. Saloman took it as the former.
“I enchant my homes, my resting places, so that no one can enter without my permission. I believe you have that aptitude because of your ancestry.” He rose fluidly to his feet, drawing her with him.
For an instant they stood close together, and Elizabeth heard the drumming of her own heart. She wanted to feel his too, slow and strong, vibrating through her aching, peaking breasts. Moisture that had nothing to do with her recent shower pooled between her thighs. The texture of his lips fascinated her as they moved in the half smile that never quite formed before it faded. She knew that gesture, in conjunction with the amber glint flaming in his black eyes. He desired her. Flushed with yearning, she tilted her face in open invitation. Saloman’s kiss . . .
“Come,” he said gently.
Her eyes flew open as she realized he wasn’t leading her to bed, but to the window.
“Make yourself safe,” he said. “Enchant your castle.”
Chapter Seven
S
aloman was proud. Hesitant, doubting as always of her own abilities, she had stumbled at first, but then, sensing the power of his own enchantments as he made and broke them to demonstrate, she began to concentrate, to give her considerable strength and intellect to learning. And when she finally “locked” the window with the spell and won his praise, she gave a crow of triumph that made him smile.
aloman was proud. Hesitant, doubting as always of her own abilities, she had stumbled at first, but then, sensing the power of his own enchantments as he made and broke them to demonstrate, she began to concentrate, to give her considerable strength and intellect to learning. And when she finally “locked” the window with the spell and won his praise, she gave a crow of triumph that made him smile.
“So
anyone
can learn to do this?”
anyone
can learn to do this?”
“Not anyone. Vampires, if they trouble to learn. A few rare humans.”
She glanced at him with a hint of doubt. “Dante and I are part of the same exclusive club?” She knew Dante had used rudimentary enchantments in the past, not least to reinforce the underground hideout in the Buda labyrinth where the senator had imprisoned Dmitriu and Josh Alexander.
“Something like that,” Saloman admitted.
“I don’t think I want to join.”
“You have no say in the matter. Your bloodline has determined it.”
Her eyelids drooped, hiding her open, expressive eyes. “Tsigana again,” she said, carefully expressionless.
He was glad to disabuse her. “In this case, not Tsigana. This gift—this gene, if you will—comes through another ancestor; precisely which now is impossible to tell. It wasn’t even latent in Tsigana. But I believe her descendant Josh has it in a very latent form. In you, it’s strong already and growing.”
“Really? Can I enchant this other window on my own?”
“Probably.” He leaned his shoulder against the wall and watched her as she tried. In nothing but a large towel precariously tied over her breasts, and with a frown of concentration between her delicate brows, she looked adorable—openly delighted to have discovered a new talent and throwing herself wholeheartedly into learning the details.
She stumbled over the unfamiliar words in the Ancient tongue, and had to be reminded of one of the more necessary gestures, but her focus was perfect, and Saloman was able to tell her in all honesty that very few vampires would be able to break through her new lock.
“Dante?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Nor anyone with him, except Luk. But then, Luk is a master of such enchantments.”
“And you?”
“I learned from Luk.”
“So how come random humans, like Dante and Josh and me, have this gene?”
“Inherited from my people.”
Her eyes widened, staring into his. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her stunned lips, because this was one human he was happy to share his ancestry with. He’d suspected before, as her telepathy grew, had tried not to hope too much, because of the warmth that crept into his jaded heart at the thought that Elizabeth was part of his past as well as his present. He couldn’t help the yearning for that extra closeness, even while he pushed it away. Just for a moment, exultant, he gave in to the happiness.
“How is that possible?” she managed.
“My people weren’t all undead, as you know. A few of my living race coupled with humans and produced offspring in whom the gift was mostly latent. Few among those ever discover their gifts, let alone understand where they come from.”
“You mean psychics, telepaths, those who claim other paranormal powers, are actually descended from live Ancients?”
“Probably, yes—the few among the fakes who are genuine.”
“Cyn in New York,” she murmured. “She senses vampires, knows where they’ve been. And John Ramsay heard the telepathic conversations of vampires. They must have your gene.” The growing excitement lighting her face faded. “And Dante, who, like me, has the aptitude to enchant.”
Saloman stirred. “Dante doesn’t realize the rarity of his aptitude. He believes it to be a merely neglected art. But the gift makes him doubly dangerous, adding it to the fact that he isn’t merely a vampire but Luk’s creation.”
Something like bleakness entered her eyes. “And me? Am I dangerous?”
“The gift does not make you dangerous. What you do with it does. In the short term, I suggest what you do with it is secure this house for yourself and your friends.”
To his relief, she brightened again and whirled away, gathering underwear and a dress from the cupboard before she shrugged off her towel and dressed while bombarding him with questions about the details of the enchantments, who of her acquaintances could perform them, how, on what, and for how long they worked.
Saloman answered to the best of his ability while devouring her nakedness with hungry eyes. Although he hadn’t fed last night and he needed blood, he wanted sex more. She wanted it too; he’d smelled her arousal since she’d first seen him, and he didn’t doubt his ability to distract her from her enchanting mission. Seducing her would be deliciously easy. There was nothing he desired more than passing the hours of daylight buried deep in her delectable body, sweeping her from climax to climax, each more shattering than the last, until she was as lost as he. The ferocity of her passion would feed his own, and his appetite was voracious.
But he’d already offended her with his urgency. However much she’d enjoyed the experience in the hills, it had still hurt her, and although he didn’t understand why, he refused to risk that hurt again, even for the rampant urge to take her and dominate her, to pleasure her and lose himself in her beauty. To have Elizabeth.
His loins ached. He had to move, to walk around the room, uncomfortably, in order to stop himself from seizing her and hurling her onto the bed. But he did so without for an instant removing his gaze from her. He longed to feel her surrender, hear her gasp with the pleasure of his caresses and scream his name at the moment of orgasm. It felt like pain.
Savoring the experience, like most in his very long life, he watched her pull the dress over her body and grab the comb. “Let me,” he said, and walked toward her.
Taking the comb from her limp fingers, he met her surprised gaze and smiled as he began to run it through her long red-gold hair. Yes, there was new pleasure in this restraint, in being so close to her that he felt the heat of her aroused body and saw the tiniest hairs fluttering on her heated skin, and yet doing nothing to satisfy either of them. Only when her hair was smooth and untangled did he return the comb to her, and then, as their fingers met, he bent his head and kissed her trembling mouth.
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