Inferno (8 page)

“Who is she?” The woman drew attention simply by breathing. She was fair skinned despite her clearly Asian traits.

“She is the Mistress of this region, Virginia Dean.”

“And the great hulking brute behind her?” Megan couldn’t help noticing the incredibly handsome man who stood protectively behind her.

“That would be her father, Sir Heathclif Dean.”

“They don’t look much alike,” she mused aloud.

“Heath adopted her in Japan over a century ago. Virginia is the daughter of a Geisha and an English sea captain. As you can imagine, half-blood children didn’t do well in those days.

Virginia lived a hard life until she met Heath. He told me she tried to pick his pocket. He caught her, of course. She was just a child at the time and he took her in, raising her as his own.”

“She wasn’t born a bloodletter then?”

“No,” Dante admitted. “That came later. Tragedy visited young Virginia and in a moment of heartbreak, Heath turned her. So he is her maker as well as her adoptive father. Together, they are a formidable pair.”

“They’d have to be to rule over all the vampires in New York.” Even as she watched the handsome couple, the woman’s gaze moved around the room, finally coming to rest on Megan. An elegant hand rose, fingers beckoning.

“It seems we are summoned.” Dante took Megan’s arm and led her across the space separating them. “She apparently wants to meet you, Cinderella.”

Megan found her lips lifting in a tense smile at his small joke even as she approached the striking woman and her father. Though to be honest, Heathclif Dean didn’t look old enough to have fathered an adult child. The man was as handsome as sin and utterly devastating in that same way Dante was, only more refined. Where Dante was a warrior through and through, Heathclif looked every inch the gentleman. A gentleman who knew how to fight and use his brawny body to advantage no doubt but still a gentleman.

Dante had rough edges that showed at the oddest moments. He was more
real
, if Megan had to define it, but she couldn’t say exactly how. It was just a feeling he gave her. And it was very attractive.

When they stood in front of the couple, Dante made the introductions. Megan felt like a butterfly that had just been stuck on a pin under a magnifying glass as the Mistress looked her over with assessing eyes.

“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Megan. It’s not often our kinds mix socially, which is something I regret. It wasn’t always that way.” She spoke with refined candor, her tone welcoming and polite. Megan wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but relief filled her at the Mistress’s friendly overture.

“I was honored to be invited, Mistress.” Megan hoped she was sufficiently polite yet projected a confident stance. It wouldn’t do to be seen as weak in a room full of predators. Especially not by the leader of the pack.

“Dante, I have some news we should discuss in private, which is impossible given our current circumstances.” Heathclif Dean spoke to Dante, though he eyed them both. “Come to the house tomorrow night. You are welcome too, Megan.”

She nodded politely, unsure what she was agreeing to. She was intrigued by the couple, but she was also very wary of them. It paid to be cautious when dealing with bloodletters and these were two of the most powerful in the New York area. Considering the sheer numbers of rich and powerful vampires in the metro area, that was saying something.

Dante and Heathclif began talking of things Megan had no knowledge of—people they both knew and reminiscences of the past. She tried to listen, but much of it went over her head. She became uncomfortably aware of the Mistress’s regard. The other woman was looking her up and down as if deciding what to make of her. Megan didn’t enjoy the once over. She’d been getting the same look—only more pronounced—since she entered the hall.

“Are you a student of the martial arts, Megan?” the Mistress asked seemingly out of the blue.

Caught off guard, Megan nodded. “I believe most
weres
find the study of martial arts both soothing and useful. The discipline helps us focus our inner beast, and the skills are always useful whether in the hunt or in self-defense.”

“And when you are in the dojo, what color graces your waist?” the Mistress asked with a coy smile.

Megan squirmed a bit, not used to giving out personal information of any kind. “Black.” The Mistress grinned widely, her exotic eyes lighting with excitement. “Which discipline do you prefer?”

“Kung fu, actually.”

She laughed. “I should have known. Animal forms would be second nature to one of your kind.”

“I’ve studied jiu-jitsu as well, and a little iado.”

“Sword study is a noble discipline, Megan. I’d welcome a chance to spar with you sometime.

Perhaps tomorrow while my father is talking business with Dante, we can spend a few minutes in the dojo.”

“I’d like that.”

She wasn’t sure what she’d just agreed to but hoped the Mistress meant her invitation at face value. This was a woman Megan would be a fool to anger.

After that little aside, the men included the women in their conversation again, talking about the excellent musicians the Deans had managed to hire for this party. To her surprise, they talked about other performers, from rock stars to opera companies, that had either played at or been booked to play at future vampire get-togethers. It seemed these immortals liked to party.

Or perhaps the Deans hosted such events in order to keep an eye on their people. Dante had spoken of tonight’s invitation as a summons. Maybe the Deans liked to dress up their public audiences in the form of parties. It made sense. People were less inclined to start trouble at a festive event and more likely to attend, even if they understood there was an ulterior motive.

Sort of like a business conference. You went for the food and freebies and tried not to mind the sales pitches that happened along the way. Very clever indeed of the vampires to use that old stratagem. Then again, they might’ve been the ones to come up with it in the first place.

“Shall we dance?” Sir Heathclif’s cultured tones shook her out of her internal musings.

He offered his hand to Megan and it was nearly impossible to say no to the command in his powerful voice. Still, something made her look over at Dante. She wasn’t seeking his permission exactly. It was more like a quick check on whether he thought it would be safe for her to go off with this strange man. After all, Dante knew more about these people than she did. The very idea that she would instinctively trust her safety to Dante’s judgment was something to ponder at another time.

“I’ve never waltzed before tonight, Mr. Dean,” she said, hoping to find some reason to decline.

The hard expression on Dante’s face and his narrowed eyes made her want to say no, though the independent lone wolf inside her balked at any restriction.

“Please, call me Heath. I saw you dancing beautifully with d’Angleterre. All that native agility and grace makes you a natural for dancing, my dear. Please, allow me the honor of partnering you.”

Once again he held out his hand, and she had no choice but to accept. Heathclif Dean hadn’t become one of the most powerful vampires in the country overnight. He’d had centuries to hone his commanding ways and at a mere thirty years old,
were
or not, Megan was no match for the power of his will.

She put her hand in his and was quickly whisked off to the dance floor. The revelers parted almost magically, making way for the important man in their midst and staring at Megan with assessing eyes that made her uncomfortable. She never liked being the center of attention.

All that was forgotten as Heath led her into the whirl of an energetic yet genteel waltz. He was a master not only of men, but of the dance, leading her with subtle movements that positioned her exactly where he wanted her to go. All she had to do was follow and allow herself to be caught up in the swirl of skirts, the swish of silk and the loveliness of the music reverberating gently over the walls of the large hall.

She lost track of time and space, mesmerized by the dance and the compelling man. He looked deeply into her eyes, and she felt the pressure of his magic against her natural
were
resistance. He couldn’t influence her, but the dance was dreamy enough, the fact that he was trying to use his power on her didn’t alarm her as it should.

The waltz music drew to a crescendo, and Heath dipped her low over his bent knee. He moved closer. She was in no position to move, much less evade him. Her body was positioned in such a way that she had absolutely no leverage and no hope of escaping the kiss she thought he meant to deliver.

Such a public display would be embarrassing, but she would live through it. She braced herself, and when he dipped even lower she realized he was aiming not for her lips, but for her jugular.

She could see the gleam of his fangs as they descended. He struck fast, the fear only momentary before his bite seduced her senses. Vampire mojo was not to be discounted at close range, she learned, even for a
were
wolf. The bite propelled her into a hazy state of mind where she didn’t fight, only succumbed to the Master vampire.

Shocked whispers erupted all around them on the dance floor as Heath abruptly let her go with a final lick and raised her to her feet. She was dizzy. His big hand steadied her as he guided her from the dance floor, toward their small group.

Megan was in a daze. A kind of shocking sexual hunger had been aroused in her body but left unfulfilled. She’d never been bitten by a vampire before and was unprepared for the way it made her feel. Being unsteady on her feet was not something she was used to.
Weres
in general had excellent balance. Her balance, of course, was shot to hell by Heath’s disturbing influence.

He brought her directly to a seething Dante. The man was so angry he practically bristled. She saw the fury in his eyes even before he opened his mouth to speak.

Heath preempted him. “Come with me, d’Angleterre. We have much to discuss.” Heath turned away abruptly, his hand still firmly grasping hers as he led them toward the door.

He stopped only once, to tell his daughter he was leaving and that she should continue to enjoy herself at the party.

Thwarted in his fury, Dante followed. Megan caught a glimpse of his heavy stride as he came down the steps behind her and their host. She was ushered into a long black limousine and guided to the seat behind the driver, facing Heath and Dante. Both men looked angry, but Dante won the award for sheer ferocity.

The car began to move and Dante turned on the man who was, for all intents and purposes, Master of this region, though his daughter carried the actual title.

“You should not have done that.” Each word was bitten out between Dante’s clenched teeth.

Heath sank back against the plush cushions. “Oddly enough, I agree with you. She is poisoned.”

“What?” Megan had no idea what Heath was talking about and was wary of the anger she saw in their expressions.

“Damn.” Dante’s anger continued but was redirected.

“Why don’t you seem surprised?” Heath asked him suspiciously.

“We thought it might be something like that. We weren’t sure. Otherwise we’d have done something to prevent this. I’ve been keeping an eye on her while resisting the temptation of her blood, just in case. It seems our suspicions were valid.”

“Who’s
we
?” Heath demanded.

“Surely you’ve heard of the company I’ve been keeping lately?” Dante reached for his cell phone and flipped it opened. “If you permit, I’ll call my friend. If you are indeed poisoned, he may be able to help you.”

“Duncan, right? I heard he was back.” Heath rested against the cushions, looking paler than he had before. “Been meaning to look him up and say hello.”

“You’ll get your chance. I’m calling him.” Dante dialed the number.

Heath waved one hand negligently in his direction. “Call him. I don’t think the fey bastard could hurt anything, and most likely he can help. I feel terrible.”

“I’m so sorry,” Megan whispered before she thought better of it. She’d drawn their attention back to her. Dante was on the phone so he could only watch as Dean eyed her.

“Who was your target, little one? Surely not me. I doubt you had any idea I would single you out in such a way. Did you intend this deadly surprise for Dante?”

“No! I didn’t know. I swear!” Her mind raced, trying to think when or how she could’ve been exposed to something that would be so poisonous to their kind. It was nothing she’d done on purpose.

Heath leaned forward, pinning her to her seat with his mesmerizing gaze. She could feel the Glamour he tried to inflict upon her, but it wasn’t taking fully. Not like it had during their dance when she’d been too close to him to take advantage of her natural immunity. A few feet, it seemed, made all the difference in the world.

Dante flipped the phone shut. “He’s on his way to your home. I assume that’s where we’re headed, right?”

Heath nodded briefly as he gave up trying to cloud her mind. She felt the removal of his energy as a weight lifting off her shoulders.

Within moments they arrived in front of a gorgeous old brownstone. The property had to be worth several million, but Megan didn’t have time to fully appreciate its grandeur as she was whisked up the stairs and inside in record time. Dante had one hand on her arm as if he was afraid she might try to take off running at any minute. She was tempted to do just that, but she couldn’t leave Heath like that. Whatever was wrong with the man, she’d been the catalyst, and she owed him.

She felt terrible as she watched him deteriorate in front of her eyes. The limo driver had to help him inside and down a flight of hidden stairs to a large master suite below ground. The driver’s face was grim as Heath instructed him to go upstairs and await the arrival of Duncan.

As Heath collapsed on the giant bed, the driver cornered Dante and Megan by the door.

“If he comes to further harm, you two will not leave this place alive. Am I clear?”

“I hear you, Hugh.” Dante stood up to the other vampire but accepted his words with good grace. “There’s little we can do for him without Duncan’s help. Bring him directly here the minute he arrives.”