Night's Cold Kiss (15 page)

The waitress made her way back with the drinks. As she passed the table behind, a jerk smacked the server hard on the ass. The poor woman jumped and the drinks sloshed onto the tray. She turned to give the guy a dirty look, but the idiot just laughed right along with his three friends.

Antoinette fumed and started to rise.
How dare they treat that her like that?
Viktor put his hand over hers and shook his head slightly.

The waitress put down some sort of fruity drink with a slice of pineapple on the side and an umbrella in it, just like Viktor ordered.

“There you go,” the waitress said, her southern accent forgotten and her face flushed. “Sorry about the spillage.”

“Are you okay?” Antoinette asked.

The poor thing smiled weakly. “Part of the job.”

Viktor put a couple of one-hundred-dollar bills on a dry part of her tray. “Keep the change for your trouble.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said, a giant smile replacing the frown. “And if you need anything else—” She pointed to
SHERRY
on her name tag. “Just holla.”

While Viktor’s outward appearance remained calm, his eyes glowed in amber anger. He picked up his drink and was about to take a sip when a big beefy hand descended on his shoulder.

“You got a problem, mate?” he said with some sort of British accent.

“No.” Viktor leaned back in his chair and hooked his thumbs into his belt, looking up at the man. “I just think that wasn’t very nice.”

“It’s what you’re supposed to do in a place like this,” the guy said.

Viktor frowned. “There is no place for rudeness. You owe that poor girl an apology.”

“You think so, cowboy?” the big man blustered. “How about I beat the living shit out of you instead?”

“Now, buddy, why would you want to go and spoil a great night on the town for you and your buds? There’d be broken bones, missing teeth, and lots of blood.”

“Yeah, mate, and it’ll be all yours.”

Antoinette readied for a fight, but Viktor just stood—eye to eye, placing his hands on the man’s shoulders, and smiling—a full teeth-gleaming smile. The man’s eyes dropped to Viktor’s fangs and grew a little nervous.

“How ’bout we forget all about it and have this next round on me,” Viktor said, patting the guy’s shoulder.

“Um…sure, that’d be real nice.” The man’s smile wobbled around the edges. He turned around to join the hushed collective at his table.

Viktor signaled the waitress. “Sherry—a round on me for these good, ol’ boys.” He patted the man’s back. “Y’all have fun now, ya hear.”

Antoinette relaxed back into her seat. She hadn’t even realized she’d been sitting on the edge until then.

“Darlin’, will you honor me with a dance?” Viktor held out his hand.

When they reached the dance floor, Viktor twirled her around into a fast-paced two-step. He was good, very good. Dancing required similar skills to martial arts, it was all about timing and footwork. She watched the other couples on the floor and soon fell into the rhythm. She couldn’t help but smile.

Then the music changed. Viktor pulled her into a slower-paced waltz. She looked over to the table behind theirs and saw the men sharing a joke with the waitress.

“You handled that situation rather well,” she said. “It would’ve gone much differently if it’d been me.”

“Let me guess—you would’ve punched the guy out then
had his friends to contend with, they would’ve ended up hurt because I would’ve had to step in to keep you safe, and then you would’ve been pissed because I saved you. That about right?”

She nodded. “Pretty fair summation, with one minor point of difference.” She smiled. “I would
not
have needed you to step in.”

“My point exactly.” Viktor chuckled and pulled her closer and spun her around the floor. “You know, Antoinette, you don’t always have to attack first.”

“It’s the only way I know,” she whispered. Nothing could hurt her if she hurt it first. She put her head against his chest. It felt nice to lean on someone for a change. She felt so safe with Viktor.

She raised her head and looked up at him. “You are so much nicer than your friend.”

Viktor’s eyes darkened. “No, I’m not.”

“I’m sorry, Viktor, I didn’t mean—”

“You don’t know anything about Christian.”

It was the first time she’d seen him angry. She dropped her eyes to her feet and stopped dancing.

Viktor sighed and closed his eyes, pulled her back against him and started moving again. “Look, he’s saved my life so many times and I his. But that isn’t the reason I love him. He is like my brother and my best friend. Be careful what you do to him.”

Heat rose in Antoinette’s cheeks. “I have no intentions of doing anything to him.”

“I see the naked hunger in both of you when you look at each other.”

“You are kidding. The only thing I feel for Christian is—”

“Turn against him and you turn against me. And I warn you—I make a powerful enemy.”

Antoinette took a step away from the truth in his eyes. Viktor didn’t seem like an Aeternus that would give his loyalty lightly.

“I’ll be careful,” she said.

“Good” He smiled again and his eyes returned to their normal color. “Now, let’s dance.”

The band had started another faster paced song. Viktor led her back into the dance pack and they were soon two-stepping around the floor at a giddy speed.

After three more tunes and lots of laughing, she and Viktor returned to their table. Her untouched drink sat there looking all fruity and cheerful and she was now thirsty enough to drink it.

“Hey—it’s the happy couple,” called the guy who had almost flattened Viktor. “Sherry tells us you two are celebrating.”

Celebrating?
Antoinette was just about to shake her head when Viktor stopped her with a squeeze of her hand.

“We sure are,” Viktor said. “We got ourselves engaged this very afternoon.”

The table of men cheered and the waitress laughed. “This here is some real southern boys—all the way from Australia.”

“Why don’t you and your lady come and join us? And no hard feelin’s, hey.” The big man put out his hand. “Name’s Davo.”

Viktor took his hand and shook it. “Well, how do, Davo. I’m Sammy-Dean and this is my fiancée, Mandy-Sue.”

Antoinette just stood there.
Mandy-Sue?
Twenty minutes ago they were looking to bust heads, and now Viktor and the big Australian were becoming fast friends. She shook her head. She picked up her cocktail and took a sip through the straw.
Whoa, Nellie.
Juice it wasn’t—it tasted about four parts rum and one part fruit. Well—maybe it was time for Mandy-Sue to have some fun. She sat down on Sammy-Dean’s knee and smacked a big ol’ kiss on his cheek.

A heavy pounding dragged her from sleep. Who was making that racket? And why weren’t they in the training room? She rolled over on her stomach and dragged the pillow over her head. But the banging continued.

She flipped on her back again and opened her eyes to a moment of dizzy confusion. This wasn’t her room at the school. Then the events of the past few days flooded back with vivid clarity and she remembered she was in New York. Someone knocked at her door again.

“Come in,” she said, putting a hand to her pounding head.

Susan, the maid, entered and placed a tray on the nearby table. “Evening, miss.”

Antoinette sat up and stretched, the bedding falling to her waist. “What time is it?”

“Past sunset, around seven-thirty,” the maid said as she laid out enough to feed half a dozen people. “Here’s something that may help settle your stomach.” She handed Antoinette a glass of fizzing liquid.

“Thank you.” Antoinette gratefully downed it, in a couple of swallows, screwing her nose at the foul taste. “My head feels like it’s going to explode.”

The maid smiled as she took the empty glass back. “I’m not surprised.”

Antoinette wasn’t a drinker at the best of times and the rum-laced fruit cocktails had hit her pretty hard. Viktor and the Australians had a great time—those boys could sure put it away.

She vaguely remembered Christian’s thunderous expression when Viktor dragged her back to the house a short time before dawn. When Christian stalked away, Viktor burst out laughing and helped her to her room where, being the perfect gentleman, he dumped her on the bed and left.

The smell of hot-buttered toast and fresh coffee made her mouth water and her stomach rumble. While her head pounded—she didn’t seem affected by the usual hangover nausea. Only her brain appeared a little muddled—like trying to think through a fog.

“I think I’ll have a shower first.” Antoinette crawled out of bed.

The maid stared, then dropped her eyes to the serving tray again.

Antoinette realized she was naked and slipped into the robe slung over the back of a chair. “Sorry.”

“That’s okay—I see naked people here all the time. But those scars on your hip…” Susan said. “They looked nasty.”

Antoinette shrugged. “A close encounter with a dreniac, that’s all.”

Susan straightened. “It must be exciting to be a Venator.”

Antoinette shrugged. “I’ve been one so long it’s hard to remember anything else. It’s been my life since I was a child. I guess it can be exciting.”

“You must be very brave,” Susan said.

“My brother calls it reckless,” Antoinette said before entering the bathroom.

The shower was good, just what she’d need. She turned off the faucet and slipped back into fluffy robe. Steam fogged the mirror; she ran her palm across it to see her reflection. The hot water had colored her cheeks and refreshed her head.

She wrapped her wet hair in a towel and piled it on her head. With one last look at the dark circles under her eyes, she left the bathroom.

“Susan, tell me—” The rest of the question died on her lips as her gaze settled upon Christian sitting at the table sipping coffee.

At least she hoped it was coffee and not blood. Her hands went to the front of the bathrobe she’d hastily wrapped around herself and secured it tighter. “Where’s Susan?”

“She has other duties,” he said.

Her eyes fell on the waiting meal and her stomach growled.

“Sit down and eat while we talk,” Christian said. The look of hunger in his eyes had nothing to do with food.

She pulled out the chair opposite him. “There’s enough here to feed a small army,” she said, popping a grape into her mouth.

His gaze fell to her lips. “Kavindish wasn’t sure what you’d like.”

“Good—cause I’m ravenous.” She picked another grape and this time brought it to her lips and sucked slowly, watching him through her lashes. He seemed transfixed by her mouth, his eyes darkened.

She reached for a piece of toast and her robe fell open slightly. His eyes dropped. She could have closed the robe—yet she didn’t. What was she doing?

What happened on the plane came back with solid clarity, sucking the breath from her body. She couldn’t let that happen again. No matter how much she wanted it.

Christian suddenly and inexplicably missed food. He’d long forgotten the taste but not the pleasure food could give. He caught a glimpse of roundness as she reached across the table.

Antoinette straightened, pulled the robe shut and bit into the toast again. To take his mind off her nakedness, he poured a cup of coffee and handed it to her.

It cut him to see her and Viktor returning from a night on the town together even though Viktor had assured him it’d been innocent enough. They never lied to one another about women, not after Carolina. He’d also warned Christian to rein in his feeling for the lovely Ms. Petrescu. He was right. What had happened had been nothing more than an itch that needed scratching.

“Thanks,” she said around a mouthful and reached for the cup, avoiding looking directly at him. Their fingers brushed and electricity shot up his arm even at such brief contact. She stopped mid-chew, shock registering on her face. After a heartbeat she swallowed and pulled the coffee to her lips.

Christian found it so hard to concentrate and he was growing hard just watching her eat. She wrapped soft lips around a luscious red strawberry, her eyelids dropping as she bit
into the fruit. He imagined it was his tongue she sucked instead and the thought sent a heat wave through him, stronger than anything he’d felt in centuries. It was almost like the grip of a blood-thrall and his body reacted before his mind could catch. Juice ran down her chin as she bit into a piece of mango and her tongue darted out to catch it.

He watched her tender lips suck, her pink tongue lick, and crossed his legs on his throbbing groin. Thank goodness for the table.

“I really wish you’d stop looking at me like that,” she said, her brow creasing. “What did you want anyway?”

“Viktor and I are going out.”

The Lodge was no place for Antoinette. A prestigious club of influential Aeternus members and a few select, but affluent, humans. He and Viktor wanted to catch any rumors that were circulating about Sir Roger’s murder.

“Where we going?” Antoinette asked, slipping more fruit into her mouth.

“We’re not going anywhere. You’re staying right here. Viktor and I have business to attend to.” He pushed back his chair and walked to the door. “There’s plenty to keep you occupied until we return. I have a well-stocked library downstairs and a training room where you can work out if you get too bored. Susan can show you the way.” He closed the door on her angry scowl and smiled. Payback was a bitch.

After Christian left, Antoinette paced the room with her arms crossed, her fingers tapping out frustration on her upper arms. What had she been thinking, trying to seduce an Aeternus? She hadn’t meant to, but when she saw Christian’s face, and the way he watched her eat, it was easy to be seduced by the power she seemed to have over him for a brief second. Luckily he hadn’t succumbed to her moment of weakness.

She’d never been one for sitting around and twiddling her thumbs. Why had they left her behind? They’d probably gone out to feed. She suppressed a shudder at the thought
and paced to the other side of the room again. She had a sudden need to see Lucian, see how badly he was hurt for herself. She dressed quickly and made her way downstairs.

Kavindish appeared as if out of thin air. “Going somewhere, miss?”

“Just off for a walk.” She took a step toward the door.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that, miss.”

Antoinette placed her hand on her hips. “You can’t let me?”

Kavindish didn’t bat an eyelid. “The master left instructions that you were to stay in the house tonight.”

“Am I a prisoner?”

He remained solid between her and the door. “No, miss, it’s for your own protection.”

“I don’t need protection. Now, if you don’t move, Kavindish, I’ll be forced to move you myself.”

“You can try, miss.”

Without warning she swung a kick at his head. But he blocked it with ease. He may not have looked much, but there was strength hiding under that suit and not even a slicked-back hair was out of place on his head. Not to be put off, she changed tactics and leveled a punch to his face and then brought her knee up, aiming for his groin. Again he blocked both attacks while scarcely moving, his face remaining passive.

“Well—never judge a butler by his cover,” she said, impressed. “You’re not such a cliché on legs after all.”

Whatever he was, it wasn’t human. His mouth twitched in one corner, but he remained the picture of impenetrable aloofness. She had to see Lucian, make sure he was safe but she wasn’t getting past this butler. Time to take a leaf out of Viktor’s book.

Antoinette held up her hands in surrender. “Okay, you win. Maybe it’s for the best after last night. I think I’ll do a bit of reading.”

His eyes narrowed.

“If it’s not too much trouble, could you bring me up some hot chocolate?” She gave him a weary smile.

He bowed stiffly. “Will there be anything else, miss?”

“No, that’s all.” She turned and made her way up the stairs again, turning halfway to find him still there watching.

Fifteen minutes later she tightened the belt on the fluffy bathrobe and answered the knock at her door. Kavindish carried in a tray and she pretended not to notice his surreptitious inspection. He was no dummy either.

But she’d been careful to look the part, right down to her matching fluffy slippers and the book tucked under her arm.

“Thanks, Kavindish. You can put it on the table.”

She held the door open for him and waited. He looked at her jacket hanging over the back of the chair and her discarded jeans heaped on the floor. Briefly surveying the rest of the room, he headed for the door.

“Enjoy your chocolate, miss,” he said with a little half-bow. “Don’t hesitate to ring should you require anything else.”

“Thanks, I will.” She kept her expression tired, which only made his eyes narrow again. “But I think I’ll return to bed, I’m feeling a little more hung over than I thought.” She yawned widely and stretched. Maybe she’d pushed it a bit too far? The butler didn’t move and looked even more suspicious.

Finally he bowed again. “Good night, miss.”

“Good night, Kavindish.”

As soon as the door was closed, she pressed her ear against it. Nothing. Walking to the table, she picked up the teaspoon and stirred, clinking loudly against the china. Then she dragged out the chair before tiptoeing back to the door. She heard his footsteps retreating down the hall.

Quick as a flash, she shucked off her bathrobe, pulled her jeans and jacket back on and opened the window. She’d already disabled the alarm and three floors to the ground was no big deal for a practicing Venator.

Antoinette swung her legs out and lowered her body over the edge, her toes stretching out for purchase on the drainpipe. Once she had a grip, she made easy work of descend
ing the rest of the way. When she reached the ground, she wiped her hands on the back of her jeans and looked up. It shouldn’t be too hard to get back up the same way.

Something brushed against her leg and she looked down to find Cerberus, his large pale blue eyes regarding her closely. He sat on his haunches, wagged his tail, and his tongue lolled out of the side of his mouth.

“Where did you come from?” she asked, then noticed the stairs leading down to a door with a dog flap.

“Out for an evening walk, are we?” She dropped and took his head in her hands. “I have to go and see my friend. You stay.”

Antoinette pulled a pair of slip-on shoes from her pocket and slid them on before standing to zip her jacket. Jamming her fists into her pockets, she took a step toward the street and the dog followed.

“Cerberus, stay!” she commanded.

He sat again and tilted his head to the left, giving a little whine. She felt the dog watching her all the way down the narrow alley between Christian’s brownstone and the one next door.

Before stepping into the street, she glanced back to see him still in the same position. His tail flapped merrily. She shook her head, glanced in both directions, and then quickly walked a couple of blocks before hailing a cab.

When Antoinette arrived at St. Vincent’s Hospital in Manhattan the reception desk gave her Lucian’s floor, but told her it was past visiting hours and she couldn’t see him until the next day.

Like hell.

A little thing like visiting hours wasn’t going to stop her when she’d gone to all this trouble. She lifted a white coat from an empty doctor’s lounge and slipped into the stairwell.

When she reached Lucian’s floor she crept out into the deserted hall. A couple of nurses sat at the station talking quietly.

Nothing else smelled like a hospital—chemical sterility covering the scent of sickness and death. Antoinette had a plan to distract one of the nurses, but not both.

Then, as if by divine intervention, one of the nurses stood. “I could do with a coffee. Want one?”

“Oh yes, please,” the other said. “I’d give my firstborn for a hit of caffeine right now.”

“Honey, I’ve seen your firstborn and you’d need a lot more than a cup of coffee for me to take on that little hellcat,” the first nurse said.

“Well, it was worth a try.”

They both burst out laughing.

This was her chance. When the first nurse disappeared Antoinette crept around the corner into a room and hit the call button beside a sleeping patient before dashing behind the door in the opposite room. Once the second nurse answered the buzzer, Antoinette zipped out and scanned the station charts for Lucian’s room number. She found it.

Outside his room sat an empty chair where a guard should’ve sat. Antoinette bit back her anger and peered through the small glass window. A pale figure lay in the only bed, his head bandaged. She slipped in just as the second nurse returned to the station mumbling something about budget cuts and faulty equipment.

A small fluorescent light on the wall above Lucian’s head cast his face in shadows, his eyes sunken and dark. She moved closer. His breathing was deep and steady and a bandage was clearly visible across his naked chest.

With the guard missing, she was afraid to leave him alone and after smoothing the covers at his side, she sat on the visitor’s chair in the corner to watch over him for a while. Every now and then, one of the nurses would come, take his obs and write them in his chart. And each time Antoinette managed to hide behind the privacy curtain. Lucian remained asleep throughout it all, heavily sedated.

The visitor’s chair was lumpy and dug into her hip, but she wriggled around to get as comfortable as possible.
Forming a cushion with the white doctor’s coat she tucked one foot underneath her bottom and crossed her arms. Lucian’s constant deep breathing lulled her mind; her head grew heavy…

“Antoinette?” someone croaked, jolting her awake.

“What?” she answered, her heart beating rapidly. At first she wasn’t sure where she was.

“You were whimpering,” the same voice said.

The fog cleared, Antoinette sat forward and Lucian’s large intelligent eyes regarded her kindly from his bed.

“I must’ve fallen asleep.” She stretched the stiffness from her neck and yawned. “Sorry.”

He struggled to sit forward. Antoinette jumped up to put a pillow behind his shoulders, making it easier for him.

“What are you doing here? Not that I’m sorry you are.” He sank back gratefully into the pillows, pain whitening the area around his eyes. “What were you dreaming about? The shooting?”

It had been Dante again, but she avoided his gaze and shrugged. “Maybe—I can’t remember.”

“Neither can I.” He reached up and touched the bandage around his head. “I’ve tried, but I just can’t. Apparently the blow I received from the coffee table on the way down not only knocked me out but gave me some kind of amnesia.”

“So you didn’t see the shooter at all.”

“I’m afraid not.” He frowned, looking at her more closely. “Why, what happened?”

She waved away his concerns. “Nothing, just too many nightmares.”

“Nightmares?”

She sighed. “Yes, I’ve been dreaming about my mother’s murder lately. I even thought it was Dante who shot you—but now I’m not so sure.”

“You witnessed her murder didn’t you?” Lucian asked. “Maybe the trauma of Sir Roger’s shooting brought on some post traumatic stress.”

“Maybe—but what I remember the most is the absolute power he had over me. He made me watch as he slit my mother’s throat.”

For a split second the image of Dante ascending the stairs holding out the doll she’d dropped sent a chill through her and she wrapped her arms around herself.

“You know, I’ve only just remembered my dolly,” she whispered.

Lucian tilted his head, frowning. “Your dolly?”

She felt a tear slip down her face. “I’d wet myself and dropped my doll in pure terror. Dante picked it up and tried to get me to take it when my father arrived home. I remember reaching for it and…”

“And?”

She focused on him. “Later, when everything had died down, I looked for my doll. Papa had had it made especially, to look like me, and it was my favorite toy. But I never found it. To this day I don’t know what happened to it.”

A chill shivered down her spine and the images of the headless bodies pinned to the VCU crime board popped into her head. When she first looked at those faces all pinned together, they reminded her so much of her mother. If Dante is alive, then he’s the Fang-whore Slasher, she was sure of it.

Lucian reached out his hand to her, his face pale and concerned. She shouldn’t be boring him with stories from her past. He needed rest.

She stood up beside his bed. “It was a long time ago, before Sergei and Katerina took us in.”

He sat up a little straighter. “When are you going home?”

“I’m not, at least not yet.”

“Why?”

“I want to stick around for a bit, check out some things myself.”

“Where are you staying?”

“At Christian Laroque’s house for the time being. Viktor and he—” She wasn’t ready to share the information about her father with anyone else yet. “My uncle asked them to
keep an eye on me, in case the killer came back. Not that I need looking after,” she added hastily.