Downbeat (Biting Love) (19 page)

“It proves that you’re special.
Drahý
, you’re safe with me. Tell me what you know, what you fear.”

I wanted to, more than he knew. But how could I? I dodged. “What does that mean?
Drahý
?” I butchered the pronunciation.

The skin stretched on his fine cheekbones darkened. “It is a casual endearment, similar to honey.”

Something, the blush or his tone, made me think that wasn’t the whole truth. Part of me had filed this latest episode away as me being a notch on his bedpost, and I wondered if
drahý
was Czech for easy mark.

But seeing his blush maybe, impossibly, it meant something truly sweet.

Believing in yourself is a terrible, scary thing.

“Tell me about vampires, Raquel.” His tone coaxed. “Tell me what you know.”

I could turn aside demands; I could weather the cop glare; I could remain firm against vampire compulsion. Coaxing, not so much. I let my head flop back on the mattress. “We did this musical in May. I thought I saw the star’s bodyguard get all fangy and red-eyed and beat up on another fangy red-eyed guy. And I know this sounds crazy, but I thought
vampire
. Then someone put me on the phone with this Elias person, and he talked to me in an echoey sort of voice. He has a deep voice, real bass clef stuff. My memory got kind of fuzzy, and now I’m not so sure what I saw.” I laughed, pretending to brush it off. “In fact, I’m probably nuts.”

Dragan exploded, hauling me by my arms to sit. “I could throttle Elias for interfering with you. Vampires exist. You’re absolutely fine, Raquel. In fact, you’re better than fine—you’re one of the rare humans immune to vampire compulsion.”

“But if I’m immune, why can’t I remember clearly?”

“Elias is an ancient, probably the only one who could mesmerize you into even partial amnesia. He and his cronies are trying to keep the secret because they are afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“What is any creature of the shadows afraid of? The light. I was afraid too, before I discovered conducting. But now I love the light; I bask in it.”

“Is that why Julian and the rest hate you?”

“Yes.” He searched my eyes. “The Big Secret. Elias says my openly not aging threatens all our kind. But I can’t stop making music for him. Raquel, you and I have a special connection. If you are willing, we can try to recover your memories.”

“I have a confession to make. After the second or third time my friends called Mr. Elias, I started keeping notes. They sort of jar my memory into returning.”

“
Drahý
.” He clasped my face in his hands, his eyes shining into mine. “You are truly a gem. Why aren’t you performing on the world’s stages?”

“What?” Anxiety splashed and I jerked away. “How did we get on that subject? We were talking about vampires.”

“Your mind is the most fascinating I’ve experienced, your musicality without equal. You should aim higher.”

“No, no, I’m comfortable where I am. I’ve got my friends, my jobs…I’m accepted where I am.”

He
tsked
. “The world would accept you, if you’d let it.”

“Yeah, but to be a world class soloist I’d have to schmooze with the elite.” I was panting.

A slight line appeared between his brows. “So? They are only people.”

“
Rich
people. They can buy me ten times over. I don’t know how to act with them, what to say.” I started to tremble.

“Shh, it’s all right.” He rubbed my arms briskly, reassuringly. “I’ll help you become the person you were meant to be.”

“No.” I didn’t know what he had in mind but I knew I didn’t want it. “It’s not worth it. Not worth the risk, not worth the pain.”

“What do you mean by that? What hurt you?” He eyed me closer. “
Who
hurt you?”

That black look promised disembowelment to whoever dared. I almost smiled.

Instead I picked up my discarded slacks and put them on. “Nothing. Nobody. We’d better go.”

Dragan watched Raquel dress, wanting to coax more details. Her movements were jerky though, angry with him for probing but also angry with Elias and her friends for keeping her in the dark.

He was pleased that she’d opened even this much to him—not only during the pleasuring but the talk after. He leaped to his feet as she straightened from picking up her socks. He took her lovely chin, tilted her mouth into optimal position and kissed her. Her socks dropped and she returned his kiss wholeheartedly.

Oh yes, she was opening to him, and it triggered something correspondingly open and warm inside him.

They had something special together, but more, she was special. He’d had countless women and Raquel’s soft places were softer, her warmth hotter. Her light drew him in a way that even conducting didn’t, tugging on something elemental, pure.

He found he wanted to be strong for her, to provide for her and protect her, all the things he’d never wanted since losing everyone he cared about so many centuries ago…

He broke off the kiss and found himself drowning in her big blue eyes. He pulled away and thrust words between them. “I have agreed to be honorary chairperson for the Habsburg-Karolina Society’s Grand Vienna Woods Ball.”

“And conduct the first waltz, yes.”

Her lids were heavy from his kiss and he wanted to make love with her…no, to have sex. Lovemaking led to unacceptable desires. “It’s a perfect opportunity for you to grow accustomed to the society which you should enter.”

“Which you think I should enter.” Her lids weren’t so heavy now. “Would you be pushing me if you hadn’t…if we hadn’t…?” She gestured roughly at the bed.

He couldn’t help a small smile. “Even if we hadn’t enjoyed each other just now, you’re under my care as part of the orchestra. It is my job to push you to achieve.”

“Playing flute, maybe.” She snatched up her top and pulled it on, covering her lovely breasts, though he could still see them clearly in his mind. “I’m not cut out for E-la-di-da-nor Rothsfield and her rich creamed cream.”

The smile widened in spite of himself. “
Crème de la crème
.”

“Whatever! Damn it, this is backwards.” She yanked the top up as far as her neck, twisted it around and tried to pull it down again but managed to get her elbows tangled. “The point is, you belong in that society. I don’t.”

He gently helped untangle her. “I’m actually an outcast to that society. And I’m courted for it. You could be too.”

“I doubt it.” She scowled. “Rich bad boys are still rich.”

He laughed, caught her face between his palms and brushed her lips with his. “I’ll be there with you. It will be a wonderful learning experience.” He tasted her more fully.

“No!” She broke away. “If you wanted to teach me things about music, I’ll learn in a heartbeat. But uppercrust shindigs? I can’t. I won’t.” She jammed her feet sockless into her shoes, plucked up her socks and stuffed them in her pockets. “It’s time to go home. Take me home.”

I’ve studied martial arts for many years as one of Mr. Miyagi’s “scholarship students”. I used to say “charity case”, but he taught me that we’re all human beings, not labels; we’re all flawed and we can all use a hand at some point. When I told him I owed him, he said that what I owed was to pass the help along to someone else. Those are some of the many wise things he taught me.

But the wisest was this: when confronted by an opponent who’s bigger, faster and stronger than you, it’s better to run than to fight.

So I peeled out of the room and careered into the dark behind the motel, then walked in circles for ten seconds trying to get my heart rate and emotions under control. It wasn’t like I had the car keys.

Eyes appeared in the dark. I froze.

Dragan glided into view, his pupils glowing a funky shade of brown. I thought maybe I’d pissed him off, but he stopped well outside my kill zone and held both palms up. “Second lesson. Running away from my kind incites us. We instinctively pursue, instinctively capture prey.”

“You didn’t capture me.”

“I’m a little older and have better self-control than most.”

“I see. What was the first lesson?”

The brown heated to charcoal red. “What happened between us on the bed. Which, upon reflection, is enough teaching for now. I’ll take you home, as you requested.”

I stayed put. “No more nagging?”

He glided to the car and opened the passenger door. “Yes. At least, not right now.”

It would have to do. I was in the middle of nowhere I recognized and my only way home was his car. I edged past him to slide into the seat, putting as much airspace as I could between us—which didn’t diminish his incredible heat and scent at all. If he ever put his charisma in an aerosol, no woman would be safe.

He shut the door. Then he flickered—and appeared in a puff in the driver’s seat.

I gaped at him. “What was that?”

“That was me, moving naturally. I have to admit, it’s quite freeing, you knowing the secret.” He started the car, Y-turned, crunched gravel to the open road and kicked it.

Scenery zipped by. It wasn’t until he slowed to the snail speed limits of the Corners that I could talk. “You don’t have to take me all the way home—in case Julian and friends are still there.”

“I beg to differ. While your fair city is protected by some of the ablest vampires on the planet, they are still few in number. And you, Raquel, live on the edge of rogue alley. I’ll take you to your door and make sure you’re safe inside.”

“Rogue?” I blinked at him. “Is that some kind of vampire bad boy, like you?”

“No.” He growled it. “A rogue isn’t a mere bad boy, but a vampire who kills humans. Usually insane, either driven by a fledgling’s blood thirst or the transition from dead human to vampire gone wrong. Or, rarely, the vampire is simply evil.”

I mulled on that a moment. “I’ll be safe inside my flat? Vampires can’t cross thresholds without permission?”

“They can, but like criminals, rogues look for easy opportunities. Easy blood, either on the street or in clubs—open places.”

Or a church
? I opened my mouth to ask.

A man appeared in front of the car.

Dragan slammed on the brakes so fast I saw the windshield zoom half an inch from my nose before the shoulder strap snapped me back. I banged into the headrest, momentarily stunned.

“Where the hell have you been?” Hands slapped against the hood of the car. I blinked. The man was tall and blond with powerful shoulders and narrow hips.

Luke Steel.

“How dare you run off with Rocky like that?” He slapped Dragan’s car again. “We were worried sick.”

“Watch the paint,” Dragan drawled as he opened the door and stepped out. “I’ve got the chip-proof coating but I’d hate to have to redo it.” He stood by his car, arms at his sides, hands relaxed, a neutral but ready stance. “You have the twenty thousand repainting costs?”

“Asshole.” Luke jabbed an aggressive finger at him. “If Rocky weren’t here—”

“Why let that stop you, my friend?”

“You’re not my friend!”

“You were worried about Raquel. That makes you my friend.”

Slowly, Luke’s accusing finger dropped. “You’re fucking kidding me.” His nostrils flared and he took a delicate sniff. His brow wrinkled in confusion. “She’s not claimed.” He pumped up again. “Which means you’re still fair game for an ass-kicking.”

“Wait.” I slid out my side, holding my palms flat like stop signs, and scooted between them. “If we’re hurling accusations, you have some explaining to do, Luke.”

His eyes widened. “
I
do? He’s the bad guy.”

“You were the one acting suspiciously at Thursday’s rehearsal. No one’s called you on it and I want to know what you were up to.”

“Nothing.” Color flagged his cheekbones.

“Wrong. Why’d you sneak upstairs during break?”

“What?” Luke’s flush ebbed. “I didn’t go upstairs until that teal woman screamed.”

“I saw your braid.”

“I wasn’t wearing a braid Thursday.”

I blinked. I didn’t remember…wait, yes I did. Sort of. Rather, I remembered both a braid and a long river of blond. “Well, it was definitely you futzing with Dragan’s briefcase.”

Luke’s cheeks reddened again.

“That was nothing.” Dragan answered, to my surprise. “A schoolboy prank.”

Luke flashed him a look that was half-amazement, half-suspicion.

I scowled at them both. “What are you two hiding from me?”

Dragan shrugged. “I think you’d rather not see.”

“For heaven’s sake, what is it, a bloody knife? Show me anyway.”

“Very well. Come.” He strode to the hood and opened it to reveal the shallow storage area holding his ultraslim briefcase. He flipped the latches on the case, threw it open, dug into the pile of scores, extracted one labeled
Classical
and flipped it to the second movement.

I was confronted by a picture of a naked woman spelunking herself.

“Aw, geez.” I turned my head away.

“As I said, a prank. It was to throw me off while I was conducting.”