Deep Kiss of Winter (12 page)

“Oh, that's rich. The last time I ‘helped' you, I got nothing but a burned hand and a death threat.”

He closed in on her, forcing her to back up until she met a shop window. Looming over her, his voice a husky rasp, he said, “Is that all you got out of it,
kallim
?”

Kallim
meant “darling.”
Woo-hoo, a step up from “chit.”
“Does this usually work on women?” Somehow she managed to be cold and unaffected. Or to look it. She hoped. “The threatening and then the full-court press?”

He exhaled. “I regret how today ended.”

“Just as you predicted, it all went downhill from that one good hour.” Where she'd made contact with the window, ice crystals fanned out on the glass, outlining her bare shoulder and upper arm with frost.

He noticed and said, “I'm glad you're, uh, cooling.” Then he bit his lip, looking like he was inwardly kicking himself.

“I see why you were so popular with the ladies, Murdoch Suavé. With lines like that, how could you not be?”

“Murdoch Suavé?” With a shake of his head, he said, “We're looking for Ivo because he might be a danger to Myst.”

Ivo could be. If the creep was in town, he'd probably be looking for his former captive.

“I've been ordered to protect her,” Murdoch added.

“Protect Myst? This is a considerable change from”—she imitated his low, accented voice—“Myst is Nikolai's enemy! We hate Myst! She's
mean
.”

His lips quirked, which seemed to surprise him,
then he resumed his scowl. “They have come to an . . . understanding.”

“Told you. So what do you need my help for?”

“My men and I can't get any leads. I've tried to question beings from the Lore—”

“But no one will speak to any of you. The rookies keep striking out?”

His glower deepened at her comment. “Finding Ivo is critical to me, Daniela. My brother would be destroyed if anything happened to Myst. The blooding is making him fall for her.”

“That's not what the blooding does, you oaf!”

His expression indicated that he'd never in his life been called an oaf.

“The blooding doesn't
make
you fall for your Bride. All it does is indicate who you'd be most likely to have a successful relationship with—biologically and emotionally. That doesn't mean you're
capable
of a relationship,” she said with a pointed glance at him. “Look, if Nikolai's falling, then it's just love. Real simple.”

“I don't believe that. Then have you ever seen a fated pairing that didn't work out?”

“Oh, it happens.”
To my mother for one
. Svana and Sigmund had been fated mates, and a much-celebrated love match. She'd taken him as her husband and prince consort. Then he'd stolen her crown and murdered her. Danii shook herself. “Now, if you don't mind, I have things to do.”

“You wouldn't help me to help your sister?”

Danii stilled.
I owe Myst.
Unbidden, a memory washed over her.

Centuries ago, Danii had been captured by a sadistic Roman senator. He'd kept her among his slaves, bringing her out of her sweltering prison cell just to
play
with her, burning her naked skin with his touch.

She'd remained a virgin only because he'd intended to offer her to the Emperor, due to visit that season. Before he'd arrived, Myst had seduced her way past the senator's legions of guards, then killed him.

“I want to help her,” Danii finally said. “But I won't work with you.”

“Why not? You can't go about alone on these streets. The Icere could return.”

“I've got a couple of days before they can get this far south. Besides, who's more dangerous to me? Them? Or the vampire who was about to attack me just hours ago?”

“Damn it, I told you why—”

“Have you ever bitten anyone before?”

“You know I haven't. My eyes are clear.”

She shrugged. Actually, the Forbearers had it wrong. Vampires only turned red-eyed when they
killed
as they drank.

“We've pledged to our order that we would never take blood from the flesh.”

“What would happen if you did?”

His brows drew together. “We . . . well, after tonight, it's
complicated
. But I vow to you I won't bite you. Just help me.”

Danii hesitated. She was a skilled fighter, as were most Valkyrie, but because she risked overheating, she could seldom go into a protracted conflict here
in southern Louisiana. And her special talents—conjuring blizzards as battle offense and frostbiting enemy armies—had been relegated to the past.

Since the coven had moved here seven decades ago, she'd felt . . .
underutilized
. Finally she would have a chance to assist her sisters in a meaningful way.

And she could do damage control. If he hadn't told anyone about what she'd divulged last night, then she could extract a vow from him never to do so!

Yet she feared there was nothing so noble ultimately steering her decision.

Sad, sad Daniela
 . . . so lonely and lame that she still yearned to be around the vampire.

No! Remember Farmer Ted, Danii!

In the end, it wasn't what Murdoch said that convinced her, but what he did. When three trashed frat boys leered at her as they passed, Murdoch's fists clenched.

He did feel
something
for her. Perhaps he did truly like her, but was afraid to settle down after so many centuries alone. Maybe he had bachelor's panic.

Maybe it's him, not
me. “I'll help you, on three conditions.”

“Let's hear them.”

“You protect me if we encounter any more Icere—”

“Of course. I will protect you from any threat.”

“Hold on there, I don't need your help with anyone but them. Second condition: you'll answer any questions I ask you. And third, you'll vow never to
tell another about anything you learn tonight—or learned this morning. Or anything about me.”

Seeing he was about to balk, she said, “I'm risking a lot by being seen with you. I could search on my own. And I would, if I thought you wouldn't follow me.”

“Daniela, that's not—”

She turned to walk on.

He grated,
“Agreed.”

She faced him once more. “And if you even peek at my neck, I
will
go cryo on you.”

Y
et another female cajoled to do my bidding,
Murdoch thought as they started out. He hadn't lost his skills.

“Where do we go first?” he asked, trying to tone down the smugness in his voice.
I control situations with women.
Just as it had always been. Which sometimes made for boring fare since he was never surprised, but that was unavoidable.

“We're off to a bar, a few blocks east on Bourbon. I know a demon. If we don't have any luck, then we can stop by a store that caters to Loreans.”

“Very well.” Now that he'd received the promise of her help, Daniela had become a means to an end. He would be staunchly focused on what he needed to do.

But, God, her hair smelled so damned good,
giving him a shot of her scent each time her braids played about her bare shoulders . . . .

As they meandered through the crowd, humans kept looking at her, some more intently than others. He felt his fangs sharpening.

Did that fuck just ogle her br—

“You're going to have to cut that out, vampire.”

His head whipped forward. “Cut what out?”

“Baring your fangs anytime a mortal checks me out.” Now
she
sounded smug.

“I was
not
baring my fangs.” He might have been baring his fangs. “Daniela, you'll find that I'm far from a jealous person.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Maybe I'm just concerned that you'll get burned. Since you're displaying so much skin.”
That I can't touch.
He had to stifle the impulse to drape his jacket over her to protect her from injury—and lecherous gazes. “You're not nervous about making contact?” He thought
he
was more anxious about it than she was.

“I've threaded through the ninety-eight-point-six degree gauntlet many a time. Have you forgotten how fast I am?”

He hadn't. Still, for the next several minutes, if he spotted any passersby more intoxicated than others, he ran interference for her. When he almost grabbed her elbow once to steer her out of the way, she warned, “Ah-ah.”

He ground his teeth in frustration, then said, “I'll return directly.” He traced to Mount Oblak, snagged a pair of thick gloves, then traced back so
fast that she'd hardly had time to react to his disappearance.

When he held up his gloves, she said, “That's just weird.”

“It's convenient.” He drew them on.

“You would still have to be extremely careful with me, and I'd need to know how thick those were—”

He placed his palm flat on the small of her back, his hand nearly spanning it. “They're as thick as the ones from last night. I didn't burn you then.”

She stiffened, but after a few moments, she allowed it, continuing along the street.

Even with such an innocuous touch, he found himself hardening for her, his second erection in centuries. Though his glove and her dress separated their skin, he could still feel her moving beneath his hand, her shapely hips swishing.

For many minutes as they walked, she was silent, seeming deep in thought. Had he made a mistake by tracing, reminding her what he was?

She'd wanted to be able to question him, but hadn't. So he said, “I went back to the alley where we fought last night. What happened to the bodies?”

She frowned. “They were probably eaten. By low creatures.”

“By dogs? By rats?”

She gave him a cryptic smile. “Nothing so
generic
.”

“And you won't specify what kinds of creatures? Come on, this is ridiculous,” he said. “Do you think Myst won't tell Nikolai everything? So many beings in the Lore can't all keep such secrets.”

“Humans think we're myths. Enough said.”

A dead end. He let that drop. Yes, he'd succeeded in getting her to help him tonight, but he'd begun to suspect that this situation might not be precisely under his control.

Finally, she glanced up at him. “You said you were ordered to protect Myst. By whom?”

“By King Kristoff himself.”
But I'd do it anyway.
Murdoch recalled the expression on Nikolai's face when he'd been grilled by Kristoff about Myst. Loyal, steadfast Nikolai had disobeyed his king, and looked as if he'd do it again for that woman. If she were killed, Nikolai would be as doomed as their father had been.

“Forced to protect her. That must grate.”

“Grate? I was angry with her . . .” At Daniela's raised brows, he admitted, “I was furious for what she did to Nikolai. It's hard to see someone you care about and respect in misery, and Nikolai suffered as you can't understand. If anyone deserves happiness, it's him.”

“Why?”

“He carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, guilt as you wouldn't believe.”

“For what?” she asked, but he hesitated to answer. “Already breaking the terms of our deal?”

Murdoch scowled. “Nikolai believes he failed his country.”

“There's got to be more than that.”

“There . . . is.” He exhaled. “Does the Lore know what happened to other members of my family?” When she shook her head, he said, “Nikolai tried to
save their lives with his ‘tainted' blood. He feels guilt for both succeeding and failing at that.”

“How did he succeed
and
fail?”

“Daniela, this is a difficult subject.”

“You have no idea what a good listener I am.”

He looked down at her eyes. So vividly blue. As they'd been in his dream. He found himself recounting how he and Nikolai had returned home to watch over their family but had found them all dying, and in unimaginable pain. He told her how they'd fed blood to his brothers and sisters, his father.

Though Murdoch had never revealed to another living soul the details, the words fell from his lips as if she'd drawn them from him. “Most were out of their heads, but my brother Sebastian was awake, aware. He even figured out what we'd become and demanded that they be allowed to die in peace.” At the memory, Murdoch ran his hand over his forehead. “Sebastian was particularly close to the girls, a kind of substitute father, and he hated Nikolai and me for trying to turn them. Even more so when only he and Conrad rose from the dead.”

“What happened once they woke?” Daniela asked, her tone softer.

“Sebastian tried to kill Nikolai. And Conrad . . . when he comprehended what had been done to him, he went mad, bellowing as if in unbearable pain, and ran into the night. We haven't seen either of them in three centuries.”

“Do you believe your brothers are still alive?”

“I have to,” he answered, then waited for her to
ask another question. Again, she remained silent, contemplative, so he said, “I was thinking about your enemies. If a king wants to kill you simply because you were born, then your very life is a threat. Which means that you're an heir. A royal one.”

She shrugged. “You got me.”

“What title do you possess?”

“I thought you knew. You called me an ice queen earlier today.”

“A . . . queen.” And if her delirious ramblings were to be believed, then she was also the daughter of gods.

“Yes, of the Icere,” she said. “From a long line of Winter Queens.”

“But Sigmund usurped your throne?”