Blood Sin (18 page)

This weird double-loyalty thing worked only if she and Saloman stayed apart. Otherwise she was always betraying somebody. So she went on the attack. “They told me the North American vampires don’t acknowledge you. Is that another reason for going there?”

“Of course,” he said serenely.

She set her glass on the table and cast him a dubious look. “You’re not going to start a war here, are you?”

“I rarely start wars.”

“I hear one is under way already.”

Saloman shrugged elegantly. “A foolish little skirmish with too much collateral damage. I visit and I reason.”

“Is that what happened in Spain?”

“There are always some who don’t listen to reason.”

“Are you expecting the American vampires to listen?”

“Eventually.” He smiled, a faint curl of the lip that vanished almost as soon as it formed. “It’s not so easy to tell me to fuck off when I’m actually right in front of them.”

In spite of herself, Elizabeth gave a little crow of laughter. “Is that what they say to you?”

“Dear Travis,” Saloman said fondly. “I’m looking forward to making his acquaintance.”

Elizabeth wandered around the spacious blue and gold suite, touching the backs of chairs, the polished wood of the stylish tables, the thick fabric of the curtains framing the full-length windows. She’d never stayed in such a luxurious hotel in her life.

But there was only one bed.

“It’s yours,” Saloman said, as the door clicked shut behind the departing porter, and she swung around to face him, almost guiltily. “I don’t sleep.”

“I wish you’d stop reading my mind,” she said ruefully.

“In this case, I was only reading your face.”

As he walked toward her, she turned her gaze to the window, drinking in the stunning view of Central Park’s dark greenery below, and beyond it, the famous New York skyline, lit up against the night.

“This is amazing,” she murmured. “I don’t know whether I should thank you for this luxury or scold you for however you managed to afford it.”

“Neither is necessary. Why don’t you sleep?”

“I might have a quick shower in this extraordinarily beautiful bathroom first.”

Although the shower wasn’t quite as quick as she’d intended, it served the purpose of making her genuinely sleepy. Emerging from the steam in her nightdress—the elegant one—with the hotel bathrobe clutched in front of her like a shield, she padded quickly through to the bedroom and slid between the cool sheets of the huge bed.

Through the open door, she could see Saloman moving along the windows of the living area, touching the glass. He seemed to be murmuring to himself, as if talking on his phone. But he wasn’t.

Intrigued, she watched him until he moved out of her sight. Again, she heard the murmuring without being able to make out the words. Then he strolled into the bedroom, and she was struck all over again by his overwhelming presence, large, solid, and almost ridiculously sexy. She loved the way he moved inside his dark jeans, the subtle, catlike sway of his hips that seemed to speak straight to her own loins. His handsome face wore an expression of serious concentration, made all the more appealing by the lock of raven hair that fell forward over his cheek and forehead.

“What are you doing?” she asked, curious.

“Making us safe,” he said unexpectedly. “Adding a few more secure locks to the windows and doors.”

Unease twisted through her surprise. “
You’re
afraid?” she said, unable to keep the wonder out of her voice.

His lip twitched. “I’m cautious. I’m alone in a city where a large number of vampires want me gone, and together might be capable of making it happen.”

Fear surged so fast it felt like panic. She’d gotten into the habit of thinking him invincible, invulnerable. But he wasn’t. Saloman could die all over again.

“Why did you come here?” she demanded, hearing the anguish in her own voice. “If the risk is so great—”

“It’s worth the risk. I’m prepared and you’re protected. Nothing will harm you.” He moved toward her and a fresh, quite different panic gripped her.

“I’m not frightened for
me
,” she objected, and he smiled. Her heart turned over, for his whole face had softened as she remembered it in her most intimate dreams. The way he’d looked in his palace in Budapest, in her bed the night before they parted. And she realized she hadn’t seen him as unguarded since they’d met again. As if he’d grown harder and colder without her.

He sat down on the bed, and, swamped with memory and a sudden rush of lust, she found it difficult to breathe.

“Why is it,” he wondered, “that your anxiety moves me more than another woman’s most passionate seduction?”

She gave a shaky laugh. “Because you know how rotten I am at seduction.”

Something flamed in his black eyes. “I’m willing to let you try again. Just for the practice.”

“You think I need practice so badly?”

“No, but I do.”

She swallowed, trying not to drown in his eyes, in her own need. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you have.” He leaned toward her and her heart seemed to stop. He reached out and touched the pulse beating at the base of her throat. “I’ve set out to seduce you, and yet been the one seduced. I’ve set out to kill you, and been seduced again.” His fingers trailed around her neck to the vein at the side, where they softly, sensuously massaged. “It never felt like losing, but I know it happened.”

She swallowed. “It never seemed that way to me.”

“How did it seem to you, Elizabeth? That you tamed a monster? Or resisted temptation?”

His gaze followed his fingers, and with wicked excitement, she recognized the hunger in his eyes. It was more than sexual. He wanted her blood. The monster was far from tamed, and God help her, the fear of him only fed her own hunger.

“That I shouldn’t love you and did,” she whispered.
That my soul dies when we’re apart.

As if he heard her silent thought, his gaze shifted back to her face, and the bloodlust slowly died, leaving his eyes black and opaque. Yet still she was afraid to move. He could always move faster.

He said softly, “We’re not so far apart, you and I. And we’re here together.” His hand slid free of hers to stroke the hair back from her forehead. “Sleep. And then we’ll do what we came to do.”

It was dark in the bedroom when Elizabeth woke, because although it was midmorning, the curtains were closed. She rose and pulled them back, letting in the New York sunshine and the amazing view. She couldn’t help smiling. Turning, she padded through the rest of the suite in search of Saloman to share it with her, but she was alone.

With a sigh, she went back to the bedroom to finish unpacking and get dressed. She was distractedly brushing her hair in front of the mirror when Saloman entered without warning. He wore a smart business suit and a snow-white silk shirt, open at the neck, and although his hair was loosely confined behind his head, he still managed to look just a little bit wild and dangerous. His beauty made her throat ache.

He walked across the room to stand behind her chair, and met her gaze in the mirror.

“You
do
have a reflection,” she said faintly. “I never noticed before.”

“Of course I do. Bram Stoker wasn’t right about everything.”

“It’s a myth I’ve heard from several sources,” she said defensively.

Abruptly, his figure disappeared and she jerked her head in alarm to see him standing several feet to the left.

“Speed of movement,” he observed. “If I move fast enough, you might think I still stood behind you and had no reflection.”

Elizabeth closed her mouth. “What a pity I couldn’t use that in my thesis. What’s with the suit? Going to see the bank manager?”

“Almost. I’m going to visit Edward Dante.”

She frowned and laid down her brush. “
Edward
Dante? Not Grayson?”

“Not Grayson,” he agreed, wandering toward the window. “It’s time to consider what will happen to the Dante wealth when Grayson dies.”

She should have been prepared for disappointment, but she wasn’t. It felt like a pain corroding her stomach. “ ‘The way to power in this age is wealth,’ ” she quoted bitterly. “You don’t really give a damn about Dante’s threat to the world, do you? Was any of that even true?”

“Every word,” he said mildly. The curtain moved, apparently of its own volition, blocking the sunlight, which had threatened to move directly on to him. “But the money won’t go away. I can make excellent use of it.”

Oh, God, oh, fuck, why did I agree to come with him?
“What are you planning to do with Edward Dante?” she said hoarsely, dragging her gaze away from the self-closing curtain.

Saloman turned from the window and met her gaze. His eyes were black as coal. “Sup on him slowly. Like a gourmet meal.”

She sprang to her feet, to do or say what, she wasn’t sure, and before she could decide, he was already speaking again.

“Or I could just talk to him. You can come, if you like, and see.”

She stared at him, and slowly convinced herself to relax. She could almost imagine she’d hurt his feelings. At any rate, she discounted the “supping” jibe. He was dressed, she imagined, as Adam Simon, and was going to conduct business rather than death. There was relief there, and yet the tiny incident served to remind her all over again how irreconcilably different were their points of view.

She turned away. “I don’t want to see. Do you really imagine the accumulation of money will bring you power?”

“It worked for Dante.”

“Along with family connections that stretch back generations. Dante is pure American establishment. You are anything but.” She drew in her breath. “You despise Dante. Can’t you see that you’re actually just like him?”

His long black lashes swept down over his pale cheek and lifted to reveal his dark, mocking eyes once more. He walked toward her with such deliberation that it took every ounce of self-control not to panic and bolt. He came right up to her, so close that his jacket brushed the swell of her breasts. Her breath caught as he bent his head, but his lips didn’t touch hers, not quite. There was no warmth, no breath to stir her skin, and yet she was aware of every movement of his mouth almost gliding across her jaw to her neck, and up to her ear.

“No,” he whispered. “I’m not.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes, as terrified by her own upsurge of fierce, desperate lust as by the knowledge of his anger. Had she ever angered him before? Weird triumph warred with fear and regret.

Nothing happened. When she opened her eyes, he was already across the room. “Don’t go out,” he advised. And the next instant he was gone. She didn’t even hear the door close.

Elizabeth let her breath out in a rush and grasped at her throat as if for comfort. Part of her wanted to laugh; the rest was far too angry with him, both for pursuing wealth and power—
just
like Dante, whatever he said—and, more trivial, for daring to tell her not to go out.
Stuff that.

Marching across to her bag, she rummaged until she found the scrap of paper inscribed with Rudolph Meyer’s New York address.

Chapter Nine

D
riving through her home country of Romania for the second time in a week, Mihaela found it difficult to appreciate the scenery. They were going to talk to a couple of tourists who’d been asking questions about vampires, in order to find out how serious their interest was. Such tourists not only put themselves in danger by drawing the attention of vampires, but they upset the precarious balance that kept vampires secret from the mass of the population. Although Mihaela understood the importance of the task, her thoughts lingered on the similarity between this mission and the one that had first led them to Elizabeth. When they’d set out from Budapest then, Elizabeth Silk had just been a researcher; by the time they’d caught up with her, she’d become the Awakener and didn’t even know it.

And now, having awakened Saloman, it seemed she could be the one destined to destroy him. Certainly, she’d been willing enough to go to America and “smite” Saloman’s friends.

“We shouldn’t have let her do it,” Mihaela said abruptly from the backseat.

Neither of the men pretended to misunderstand her. “Couldn’t stop her, once we’d brought the subject up,” István pointed out.

“Why
did
we bring the subject up? We’re using her to do our job!”

“She’s
helping us
do our job,” Konrad corrected. “She volunteered, and it’s our duty to use every available opportunity. She knows the score.”

“We’ve sent her into the same country as Saloman, into the middle of a vampire war, with a mission
we
’d struggle with.”

“If the Severin thing is too dangerous, she knows to back off. Just contacting the descendant Rudolph Meyer will be a big help now that Saloman’s in the States. Besides,” Konrad added comfortably, “if things get rough she can call the American hunters.”

Mihaela leaned forward between the front seats. “Why don’t we tell them she’s there already?” she suggested.