How To Marry A Millionaire Vampire (13 page)

Their lips met briefly, then separated. Her breath was warm against his face. Her eyes were closed. Good. He could stop worrying about his own eyes.

He brought his hands up to cradle her face. She looked so innocent and trusting. God’s blood, she had no idea what he was capable of. He only hoped he was capable of resisting. Gently, he kissed her. She tightened her grip on his head, pulling him closer. He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth and flicked it with the tip of his tongue. Her body shuddered. Her mouth opened, begging for him.

He invaded. Explored. She matched each move, stroking his tongue with her own. She was so alive, so hot that all his senses burned. He could see her clinging to him, growing more feverish. He could hear her blood pounding. Feel her nerves quivering, the heat simmering. Smell her juices flowing.

That left only taste.

He wrapped his arms around her. With one hand against her back, he flattened her chest against his. She was breathing quickly, her breasts moving against his skin. His other hand slid down, down and around her rump. God’s blood, she was heaven. Firm and round. And she hadn’t been kidding about her ability to show passion.

She pressed against his erection. Good God, she was rocking against him. Squirming. Reveling in the glory of being alive and her overriding instinct to create more life.

So sad. His overriding instinct was to destroy life.

He went for her neck. The left fang sprang forth. The right one started to, but jammed against the wire splint. Ouch! He pulled away, clamping his lips together. It hurt like hell, but at least the pain had knocked some sense into him.

He couldn’t bite Shanna. God’s blood, he had sworn never to bite a mortal again. He released her and backed away.

“What’s wrong?” she sounded breathless.

He slapped a hand over his mouth. He couldn’t even answer her with one of his fangs extended.

“Oh my gosh. Is it the splint? Or your tooth? Did we knock it loose?” She rushed toward him. “Let me see.”

He shook his head. His eyes watered from the strain of trying to retract the fangs while he was still so hungry.

“You look like you’re in pain.” She touched his shoulder. “Please, let me see.”

“Mmm.” He shook his head, retreating another step. Damn, this was embarrassing. But he probably deserved it, as close as he had come to biting her.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you with the splint in your mouth.” She grimaced. “Jeez, I shouldn’t have kissed you at all.”

The left fang finally obeyed and slid back into its hole. He spoke with his hand in front of his mouth. “I’m all right.”

“But I broke a very important rule—never, ever date a client. I shouldn’t be involved with you at all.”

He lowered his hand. “In that case, you’re fired.”

“You can’t fire me. You still have my splint in your mouth.” She moved close to him. “Now open your mouth and let me see.”

He did as he was told.

She nudged the splint with her fingers. He tickled her fingers with his tongue.

“Stop that.” She jerked her hand from his mouth. “I can’t believe this. The splint’s loose.”

“Well, you’re one hell of a kisser.”

She blushed. “I don’t see how I managed to… Don’t worry. I won’t kiss you again. As your dentist, I’m responsible first and foremost for your dental health—“

“I fired you.”

“You can’t. Not as long as the splint—“

“I’ll rip the thing out myself.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“I’m not losing you, Shanna.”

“You won’t lose me. We’ll only have to wait a week or so.”

“I’m not waiting.” He’d waited more than five hundred years to experience something like this. He wasn’t waiting another damned week. And he wasn’t taking any more chances with his questionable amount of control. He strode toward his bedroom. Black dots swirled around his head. He ignored them, ignored the hunger raging inside him.

“Roman!” She ran after him. “You can’t take out the splint.”

“I’m not.” He yanked open a dresser drawer and dug beneath a pile of underwear. There, on the bottom, was a pouch of red felt. He pulled it out. Even through the felt, he could feel the warmth of the silver inside. Without the felt, his hand would now be covered with burning welts.

He held it out to her. She didn’t notice since she was pivoting in a circle, checking out his bedroom. Her gaze lingered on his king-sized bed.

“Shanna?”

She looked at him, then noticed the pouch in his hand.

“I want you to have this.” He swayed on his feet. He had to eat soon, one way or another.

“I can’t accept more presents.”

“Take it!”

She winced. “You should work on your bedside manner.”

He leaned on the dresser. “I want you to wear it around your neck. It will protect you.”

“Sounds a little superstitious.” She took the pouch, loosened the drawstring, and let the contents fall into her hand.

It looked much the same as it had in 1479 when he’d first taken vows. The silver chain was plain but good quality. The crucifix displayed medieval craftsmanship at its best.

“Wow. This is beautiful.” Shanna examined it closely. “It looks really old.”

“Put it on. It will protect you.”

“Protect me from what?”

“I hope you never find out.” He eyed the crucifix sadly. He had been so proud when Father Constantine placed it around his neck. Pride. That had been his downfall.

“Help me put it on?” Shanna turned halfway, gathering her hair into a ponytail. She offered the necklace to him.

He stumbled back before the silver could burn him. “I cannot. If you will excuse me, I need to go to work. I have a lot to do tonight.”

She eyed him warily. “Fine.” She released the ponytail, and her brown hair settled onto her shoulders. “Are you sorry you kissed me?”

“No, not at all.” He grabbed the edge of the dresser for support. ‘The crucifix. Put it on.”

She continued to study him.

“Please.”

Her eyes widened. “I didn’t think that word was in your vocabulary.”

“I reserve it for emergencies.”

She smiled. “In that case…” She looped the crucifix around her neck and flipped her hair over the chain. The cross rested on her breasts like a shield of armor.

“Thank you.” He gathered up his strength and escorted her to the door.

“I’ll see you again?”

“Yes. Later tonight. When I get back from Romatech.” He closed and locked the door. Then he stumbled into the office, grabbed the bottle from the microwave, and chugged it down cold. God’s blood, his life had been turned upside down by Shanna. He couldn’t wait to kiss her again. He was a demon getting a taste of heaven.

Hell was definitely freezing over.

On the way down the stairs, Shanna’s thoughts centered on Roman. Thank God he was alive! The question now was should she stay under his protection or make other arrangements with Bob Mendoza? It was very tempting to stay with Roman. She’d never felt so attracted to a man. Or so intrigued.

She sauntered into the kitchen and found Connor at the sink, rinsing out bottles and setting them in the dishwasher.

“Are ye all right, lass?”

“Sure.” She noticed a box of Band-Aids that was sitting on the counter. “Did you cut yourself?”

“Nay. I thought ye might be needing one.” He peered closely at her neck. “Och, a silver chain. That’ll protect you.”

“Roman gave it to me.” Shanna admired the antique crucifix.

“Aye, he’s a good man.” Connor swept the box of Band-Aids into a drawer. “I shouldna have doubted him.”

Shanna opened a cabinet. “Where do you keep your glasses?”

“Here.” Connor opened a different cabinet and retrieved a glass. “What would ye like to drink?”

“Some water.” Shanna motioned to the dispenser in the refrigerator door. “I can get it myself.”

Connor reluctantly handed over the glass, then followed her to the refrigerator.

“I’m not helpless, you know.” She put in some ice and smiled at the Highlander who was leaning against the refrigerator door. “You guys are too sweet. You’re going to spoil me rotten.” She filled the glass with water.

Connor blushed.

She sat at the table and peered inside the box of brownies. “Yum.” She took one out. “Do you think you could find some dental instruments for me? I need to tighten the splint in Roman’s mouth.”

Connor sat across from her. “Aye. We can take care of that.”

“Thanks.” Shanna pinched off a corner of the brownie. “Is there anything to do around here?”

“We have a well-stocked library across from the parlor. And there should be a telly in yer bedchamber.”

Bedchamber? Shanna loved how archaic the Highlanders could sound. She finished her brownie, then hunted down the library. Wow. Three whole walls were lined with books from the floor to the ceiling. Some looked very old. Some were in languages she didn’t recognize.

A wide window, covered with thick draperies, stretched across the fourth wall. She peeked out and saw the dimly lit street with cars parked along each side. It seemed so quiet and peaceful. Hard to believe there were people out there who wanted her dead.

She heard voices in the foyer. Female voices. She moved toward the door. She had to admit, she was curious about these mysterious ladies who watched television in Roman’s parlor. She peeked around the doorjamb.

There were two beautiful women approaching the parlor. The first one, dressed in a black spandex catsuit, looked like a model and moved like an anorexic panther. Her hair was long, black, and loose down her back. Sparkling rhinestones studded the black belt around her tiny waist. Black polish gleamed on her long fingernails, and each nail boasted another rhinestone.

The second woman was petite, with her black hair cut into a bob. She wore a tight black sweater to show off her generous cleavage and a black mini-skirt to reveal her pencil legs encased in black fishnet stockings. She was cute and tiny, but her clunky black shoes made her walk like a water buffalo.

The woman in the catsuit was gesturing angrily, her fingernails glittering under the foyer chandelier. “How can he treat me like zis? Does he not know I am a celebrity?”

“He’s very busy, Simone,” Miss Clunky Shoes replied. “He has a million things to do with the conference starting tomorrow.”

Simone flipped her black silky hair over her shoulder. “But I came early so I could see him, zat rat!”

Shanna winced at the way the French catwoman pronounced her r’s. It sounded like she had phlegm stuck in her throat and was trying to cough it up.

Simone huffed. “He is so h-rude!”

Shanna gritted her teeth. Definitely something in her throat. Probably a furball.

Simone flung open the double doors to the parlor. The room was filled with women lounging about on the three maroon couches. They were drinking something from crystal wineglasses.

“Good evening, Simone, Maggie,” the ladies greeted the two women in the foyer.

“Has our show started yet?” Maggie clunked into the room in her enormous black shoes.

“No,” one of the ladies replied. She was sitting on the middle sofa, so Shanna could see only the back of her head. Her short, spiky hair was dyed such a dark red, it was more like purple. “The news is still on.”

Shanna took note of the widescreen TV. An ordinary-looking male newscaster was on the air, mouthing words. In the corner of the screen a red mute sign glowed. Obviously, these ladies didn’t concern themselves with current events. Beneath the mute sign, the black bat logo was displayed. They were watching DVN.

Shanna counted a total of eleven women, who all appeared to be in their twenties. Well, what the heck. If she was going to pursue a relationship with Roman, she needed to know why these women were here. She stepped into the foyer.

Simone filled a wineglass from a crystal decanter on the coffee table. “Has anyone seen ze master zis evening?” She perched in the far corner of the sofa on the left.

The purple-haired woman was admiring her long, purple fingernails. “I heard he’s seeing another woman.”

“What?” Simone’s eyes flashed. Leaning forward, she plunked her glass down on the table. “You are lying, Vanda. He could not possibly want anozher woman when he could have moi.”

Vanda shrugged. “I’m not lying. Phil told me about it.”

“The daytime guard?” Maggie sat beside Simone.

Vanda stood. She was also wearing a black catsuit, but her belt was made of braided leather strips. She shoved a hand through her purple spiky hair. “Phil has a crush on me. He tells me everything I want to know.”

Simone sank back into the couch, her gaunt body in danger of being swallowed up entirely. “Zen it is true? Zere is anozher woman?”

“Yes.” Vanda turned her head and sniffed. “What is that?” She spotted Shanna in the foyer. “Well, speak of the devil.”

All eleven women stared at Shanna.

She smiled and stepped into the room. “Good evening.” Shanna looked the women over. Black clothing was normal for New York City, but still, some of these outfits seemed a bit odd. One of the ladies was wearing a gown that looked medieval. Another gown looked Victorian. Was that a hoop skirt?

The one called Vanda circled the coffee table and struck a dramatic pose by the television. Whoa. The neckline of her catsuit plunged all the way to her waist. Shanna was seeing a lot more of Vanda than she really wanted to.

“My name is Shanna Whelan. I’m a dentist.”

Vanda narrowed her eyes. “Our teeth are perfect.”

“Okay.” Shanna wondered what she had done to make these women glare at her. Though there was one, sitting apart from the others, who was giving her a friendly smile. She had blond hair and modern clothes.

The one in the Victorian dress spoke, her accent making her sound like a Southern belle. “A lady dentist? I do declare, I don’t know why the master would invite her here.”

The one in the medieval gown agreed. “She does not belong here. She should leave.”

The friendly blond spoke up. “Hey, it’s your master’s house. He can invite the pope if he wants.”

The other women shot the blond a vicious look.

Vanda shook her head. “Don’t make them mad at you, Darcy. They’ll make your life miserable.”

“Some life.” Darcy rolled her eyes. “Oh, I’m so afraid. What could they possibly do to me? Kill me?”

The medieval one lifted her chin. “Do not tempt us. You do not belong here, either.”

What a strange group. Shanna retreated a step.

The Southern belle glowered at Shanna. “Is it true, then? You’re the master’s new lady friend?”

Shanna shook her head. “I don’t know who this master is.”

The ladies chuckled. Darcy winced.

“Bon.” Simone curled up like a contented cat in her corner of the couch. “You will leave him alone, zen. I came all ze way from Paris to be wiz him.”

Maggie leaned close to Simone and whispered in her ear.

‘Wow” Simone’s eyes widened. “Zut alors! He did not tell her?” She huffed. “And he is ignoring me. To zink I wanted to have sex wiz him, zat bastard!”

Maggie sighed. “He never has sex with us anymore. I miss the old days.”

“Me, too,” Vanda said, and all the ladies nodded in agreement.

Jeez. Shanna grimaced. This master character had had sex with all of these women? He was downright creepy.

“He will have sex wiz me,” Simone declared. “No man can resist me.” She eyed Shanna with disdain. “Why would he want zis woman? She must be size fourteen.”

“Excusez-moi? ” Shanna glared at the rude Frenchwoman.

“Oh, look!” Maggie pointed at the TV. “The news is over. It’s time for our soap.”

The ladies forgot about Shanna as they turned to watch the television. Maggie punched the mute button on the remote control to restore the sound. There was a commercial on with a woman praising the yummy, rich flavor of a drink called Chocolood.

Vanda slinked around the couches and headed for Shanna. Upon closer inspection, Shanna realized Vanda’s belt was actually a whip. And on the inside curve of one breast, Vanda was sporting a tattoo of a bat. Purple, of course.

Shanna crossed her arms, refusing to be intimidated.

Vanda stopped beside her. “I heard the master fell asleep in someone else’s bed.”

“No!” The other ladies forgot about the television. They turned to stare at Vanda.

Vanda smiled, enjoying all the attention. She patted her spiky purple hair. “That’s what Phil told me.”

“Whose bed?” Simone demanded. “I will scratch her eyes out.”

Vanda looked at Shanna. The other women stared at her.

Shanna raised her hands. “Look, guys, you’ve got the wrong bed. I don’t know this creepy master of yours.”

Vanda chuckled. “Not very smart, is she?”

That was it. “Okay, lady. I’m smart enough not to dye my hair purple. Or to share a man with ten other women.”

The ladies reacted—some laughing, some offended.

“Phil told me there was a man in your bed,” Vanda sneered. “You woke up and thought he was dead.”

The ladies giggled.

Shanna frowned. “That was Roman Draganesti.”

Vanda smiled slowly. “Roman is the master.”

Shanna’s mouth dropped open. Could it be true? Could Roman have eleven live-in girlfriends? “No.” She shook her head.

The ladies watched her with smug looks. Vanda leaned against the doorjamb, her smile triumphant.

A chill crept across Shanna’s skin. No, it wasn’t true. These women just wanted to hurt her. “Roman is a good man.”

“He is a bastard,” Simone declared.

Shanna’s head reeled. Roman is a good man. She had felt it down to her soul. He wanted to protect her, not hurt her. “I don’t believe you. Roman cares about me. He gave me this.” The crucifix had slid to the side beneath her blazer. She pulled it out.

The women cringed.

Vanda stiffened with a hiss. “We are his women. You do not belong here.”

Shanna gulped. Could Roman really have eleven lovers?

How could he kiss her when he already had so many women? Oh God. She pressed the cross against her chest. “I don’t believe you.”

“Zen you are a fool,” Simone said. “We should not have to share Roman wiz someone like you. It is insulting.”

Shanna stared at the women. They had to be lying, but why would they? The only logical explanation for their anger was that she was actually seeing their master. Roman.

How could he do this to her? Make her feel so special when he had a house full of women. What a fool she’d been, thinking he wanted to protect her from the bad guys. He only wanted her here so he could add her to his collection and make a full dozen. Simone was right. He was a bastard! Eleven women at his beck and call, and that wasn’t enough for him. What a pig!

She ran from the room and hurried up the stairs. By the time Shanna reached the fourth floor, she was seething. No way was she staying here. She didn’t care how safe it was from the Russians. She never wanted to see Roman again. She could take care of herself.

What would she need? A few clothes, her purse? She recalled seeing her Marilyn Monroe purse in Roman’s office. Roman, the bastard pig’s office.

She ran up the last flight of stairs. A Highlander was guarding the fifth floor and moved toward her. “Did ye need something, lass?”

“Just my purse.” She motioned toward the office door. “I left it inside.”

“Verra well.” The guard opened the door for her.

She slipped inside and spotted her purse on the floor next to the velvet chaise. She checked the contents. Her wallet, checkbook, and Beretta were still there. Thank God.

She remembered pointing the gun at Roman the night before. Why had she decided to trust him? The minute she had climbed into a car with him, she had trusted him with her life.

She looked sadly at the velvet chaise. Last night, while lying there, she had let him hypnotize her. She had trusted him again, that time with her career, her dreams, and her fears. And then, over by the door, they had shared their first kiss. One hell of a kiss. And she had trusted him with her heart.

A tear rolled down her cheek. Dammit, no! She wiped her eyes. No tears for that bastard. She was halfway to the door when she stopped.

She wanted him to know. She wanted him to know that she was rejecting him. No one treated her like that. She marched back to the desk, pulled off the crucifix, and dropped it on his desk. There. That was a message he would understand.

When she exited the office, she found the guard hovering by the door. Oh, jeez. How was she going to leave the house? There were guards everywhere. She walked down the stairs to the fourth floor, deep in thought. Earlier, when she had met Roman’s women, there had been a Highlander at the front door, one she’d never met. Connor would be at the back door. No way could she get past him. She’d have to give the front door a try. She had no ID card, didn’t know the code for the keypad. So she’d have to convince the guard to open the door for her.