The Order Boxed Set (9 page)

His tongue slid inside. Instantly the kiss deepened, and she lost the ability to think rationally. His hand drifted up to cradle the back of her skull and held her steady while his mouth ravaged hers. Tara lost herself in the sensations coursing through her body—so new, so intense. He scooped her up into his arms and carried her to one of the huge scarlet sofas.

He sank down, pulling her onto his lap without breaking the kiss. His mouth slanted over hers, his tongue thrust into her mouth and stroked. At first, she allowed him to have his way, but it wasn’t enough, and she started to move with him. At the soft glide of her tongue, his grip tightened. His hands slid over her, grinding her against the hardness of his body. It was like steel, and the muscles of her belly knotted and warm wet heat pooled between her thighs. Her body seemed to take over, and she wriggled her bottom into his hips, until he groaned against her mouth.

The air filled with a musky, feral scent, and Christian stilled. His hands gripped her arms, and he lifted her from him, depositing her on the cool silk of the sofa. He shifted as far from her as he could while staying seated.

Tara stared at him, fighting the urge to crawl across the space between them. She wanted him, needed him. She made a move, and he put up a hand to ward her off. It was like being doused in cold water.

“Why?” she asked.

He took a deep breath. “I think that perhaps you’re not so safe after all.”

Chapter Seven

Rule Number Three: Never remove the Talisman

She didn’t want to be safe. She wanted to be in his arms. Christian smiled, his lips drawing back to reveal the long, razor-sharp canines.

“Oh.”

Tara stared at them in awe. All signs of humanity were stripped from his face, revealing the cold ruthless predator beneath. The smile slid from his face, and the humanity crept back into his eyes. He laid his head against the cushions and stared at the ceiling.

“I haven’t felt the urge to feed so strongly for a long time.” He regarded her curiously. “What is it about you, Tara Collins? Why do you affect me like this? Perhaps we should get down to business after all, and see if we can’t find out. First I need a drink.”

He switched on a light and the room became brighter. “There,” he said, “much more businesslike.”

He rose and moved around the room blowing out the candles, then he picked up the bottle of champagne and poured himself a glass. He glanced at her, and she shook her head. After swallowing his drink in one gulp, he poured another and came back to sit at the far end of the sofa. “Don’t look so worried. I have myself under control.”

It wasn’t Christian she was concerned about. She was the one who’d been out of control. Who’d nearly begged him to make love to her, to take her any way he wanted. And it frightened her. Falling for a vampire was not part of any plans she had for her future.

“So,” Christian said, “tell me about your aunt.”

Tara forced herself to concentrate. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything. What was she like, how did you live, anything you think might help us get to the bottom of this.”

“I don’t remember anyone else, ever. It was always just Aunt Kathy and me. Oh and Smokey, of course. That’s my cat,” she added.

“I remember,” Christian said wryly.

“We lived in this big old house on the Yorkshire moors. It was very isolated—Aunt Kathy liked it that way. She didn’t trust outsiders, which was everyone except me. We had our food delivered, and my aunt schooled me at home. That’s why I’m at college now. She taught me a lot, but I don’t have any qualifications.

“I wasn’t supposed to leave the grounds, but sometimes I would creep away when she was busy. I liked to watch the people in the village. It’s funny, I didn’t realize how weird our lives were until I started watching other people.”

“You never thought to leave?” His expression was thoughtful, but the pity she dreaded was absent.

“Of course I did. I told her I was moving out when I was eighteen, but she got ill, and I couldn’t leave her alone. Despite everything, I loved her. She gave me the best life she knew how.”

“Hmm.” He sounded skeptical. “Did she ever mention the past or anything about your parents?”

Tara smiled. “You’re joking—and break Rule Number One?”

“Rule Number One?”

“My aunt liked rules. Number One was never, ever talk about the past, and I didn’t. It still makes me nervous to talk like this, as though I’m doing something wrong.”

“Were there a lot of rules?”

“A few. Rule Number Two was ‘don’t drink alcohol.’ I tried that, and it turns out it was a good rule. Maybe I have some sort of genetic disorder that can’t cope.”

“What happened?”

“One sip of white wine and I passed out.” She glanced at the champagne bottle and shuddered. “I won’t be trying that again anytime soon.”

“You’ve broken rules one and two. Is there a Rule Number Three?”

Tara smiled. “Rule Number Three—never take off the talisman.”

“What talisman?”

She reached beneath the collar of her shirt and pulled out the necklace. “It belonged to my mother. Or at least that’s what Aunt Kathy told me.”

Who knew whether it was true? Now, it seemed unlikely, and a wave of sadness ran through her. It was the one thing she had from her mother, or thought she’d had. “I’ve always believed that was true, so Rule Number Three wasn’t hard to keep.”

He rose to his feet. “Can I see?”

She held the necklace up. He took a step closer
and
cupped the pendant in his hand, turning it with his long elegant fingers. It was a heart-shaped locket made from some sort of opaque crystal.

“Does it open?” he asked.

She ran her nail along the seam, caught the minute catch, and the locket sprang open.

Christian dropped his hand and took a step back. His eyes were wide and fixed on the open locket still held between her finger and thumb. The contents were so familiar—a strand of her mother’s hair, or so Tara had always believed, blond like her own.

“What is it?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s some sort of spell,” he answered slowly. “The hair has been charmed and it’s powerful. This is warlock’s work.”

It just looked like a strand of hair to Tara. “What’s it for?”

“I have no idea, but there’s one way to find out. Take it off.”

A wave of reluctance washed over her.

Christian watched her curiously. “What’s the problem?”

“It’s stupid, but I don’t want to take it off.” She dropped the locket and fought the urge to hide it inside her shirt.

“Maybe not so stupid—I’m guessing there’s some sort of compulsion built into the charm. Which makes me even more curious about what it’s doing.” He thought for a moment. “Close your eyes. I’m going to take your mind off the locket, give you something else to think about.”

“What else?”

“Me. Now be a good girl and close your eyes.”

Tara closed her eyes. She sensed the movement as he came to stand behind her, so close his breath feathered through her hair. A hand stroked the soft skin of her neck. She shivered at the touch, and heat flared low in her belly as her body remembered the feel of him. He brushed aside her hair to bare the side of her throat and his lips pressed against her. He kissed her neck softly, opening his mouth against her. His sharp teeth scraped her skin, and she stiffened. “Christian—”

“Shh,” he murmured against her throat. “I’m not going to bite. Relax.”

She tried, but relaxing really wasn’t an option with his hands gliding up her body, skimmed her belly. They hovered over her breasts, hardly touching, but lightly grazing. Her nipples tightened, and she groaned. His hands again. It took her a moment to realize he was lifting the necklace over her head.

“It’s off. Open your eyes.”

He came to stand in front of her, her necklace dangling from one finger. His eyes met hers and something close to horror flashed across his face.

“What is it?”

He thrust the necklace at her. “Put it back on.” His voice was harsh and strained.

“Why?”

“Don’t argue, just put the necklace back on. Now.”

She took it from him with trembling fingers and lifted it back over her head. Christian turned away, his back rigid, his fists clenched at his side.

“What is it?” When he didn’t answer, she touched his shoulder. He flinched. “Christian, you’re frightening me. Tell me what you saw.”

For a moment he stayed where he was, his broad shoulders rigid with tension. He took a deep breath and relaxed. When he turned, his expression was blank.

“I didn’t see anything.”

“I don’t believe you. If you don’t tell me, I’ll take it off again.”

“Don’t do that until we know exactly what we’re dealing with.”

“But what’s it doing?”

“It’s hiding something. Or rather masking something.”

“What—”

He held up his hand. Tara bit her lip but shut up.

“I don’t know,” he said. “That’s the truth. When you take it off, it’s as if you’re transmitting some sort of message, but who’s picking it up or why, I don’t know. And until I find out, you keep it on.”

A cold lump settled in Tara’s stomach. She’d seen something bordering on fear in Christian’s eyes. What the hell did it take to scare a vampire? She thought about pushing it, but his expression was closed, and she knew he wouldn’t tell her anything more. Instead, she forced herself to think through the options. “I’m not sick or anything, am I?”

He smiled. It was faint, but a smile nevertheless. “Nothing like that. Was that the first time you’ve removed it?”

“No, I took it off when I was leaving Yorkshire. I was upset—I’d found out most of what my aunt had told me was lies. I was going to leave it behind with everything else from that life. It was almost impossible, but I managed to take it off and hang it from the gatepost. I was halfway down to the village, and ran all the way back and put it on again. In the end, I couldn’t leave it—it was the only thing I had from my mother.” Her legs trembled, and she sank onto the sofa. “Do you think it matters that I took it off?”

“Probably not.” He smiled. She knew it was supposed to be a reassuring smile, but it didn’t work.

“What do we do next?” she asked.

“We need to go to Yorkshire.”

“I don’t want to go to Yorkshire.”

“I think I should take a look around. See if I can get a sense of what went on there. What your aunt actually was and how she came to be. We’ll go tomorrow night. There is one more thing we can do tonight. I’d rather go alone, but it might help if I have the locket, and as you can’t take it off, you’ll have to come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“The Order.”

A shiver of excitement ran through her. Graham had said
t
he Order was ultra-secret. There would be vampires and maybe other things. But why would Christian take her there now? What was so important about the talisman?

The familiar weight of the locket comforted her, but she couldn’t shake the conviction that Christian knew more than he was saying. And what he knew wasn’t good.

“Just one thing,” Christian said. “When we get to
t
he Order—”

“Yes?”

“Don’t do anything and don’t say anything.”

Chapter Eight

The drive to the Order took them along the embankment beside the river Thames, where the lights of the pleasure cruisers glinted on the water. Then past the London Eye, the giant Ferris wheel that rotated languidly above the city, and into the business district. They finally turned down a ramp and pulled into an underground parking garage.

Christian glanced at his passenger as he switched off the ignition. She’d finally stopped shaking. She was rattled and who could blame her? He was rattled himself.

He took a risk bringing her here—Piers wouldn’t like it—but he wanted one of the Order’s witches to take a look at Tara’s talisman. Maybe a witch would be able to identify the warlock who’d made the charm. They often left some sort of signature easily recognizable by others of their kind.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get this over with.”

He was about to get out when she put her hand on his arm. She licked her lips, her small pink tongue flicking out, and he remembered the taste of her; hot and sweet with just an underlying hint of bitterness to balance. Addictive, and he wanted more. Much more.

As the memory washed over him, he had a sudden flashback to the good part of the evening. The earlier part before he’d made a huge error of judgment and decided that getting down to business was the sensible move. He should have just kissed her some more. They might be in his bed now, not in an underground car park about to face six-foot-four of pissed off vampire.

“Christian?”

“Sorry, I was miles away.” Back in his bed with Tara sprawled naked on top of him. “What is it?”

“I wanted to thank you.”

He smiled. “I’m just doing my job. It’s what you hired me to do.”

She searched his face. “Is it just a job?”

She appeared so young and so uncertain that he leaned across and kissed her on the mouth. It had been meant as a reassurance but instead of the quick kiss he’d intended, his lips lingered against hers, relishing the taste of her.
Definitely addictive.
Finally, he remembered where he was and drew back.

“Does that answer your question?” he asked.

She licked her lips again as if tasting him, and heat flared in his groin.

She nodded. “Let’s go.” Without waiting for him, she opened the car door and jumped out. Christian sat a minute longer, willing his body under control, then followed her.

He’d called Piers from the car, and someone waited at the elevator to escort them. Tara sized up the guard.

“Is everybody here a vampire?” she asked quietly.

“Not everybody, but most of the agents. We’re actually here to see a witch.”

“Ella?

Christian frowned.

“Graham mentioned her,” she said.

He made a mental note to have a word with Graham. Though he
had
told him to tell Tara whatever she asked.

“Hopefully not Ella,” he replied.

“Why? Graham told me you used to be close.”

Yes, he was definitely going to have a word with Graham. “Not that close,” he said. “And a long time ago.” Why was he worried that Tara might believe him involved with Ella?

“Ella is not a big fan of mine anymore. But
t
he Order employs other witches. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

The elevator came to a halt, and the doors opened. Piers waited for them and, as expected, didn’t look happy. Without speaking, he whirled and strode off down the corridor.

Christian put a hand to Tara’s waist. He directed her after Piers, glancing down at her once or twice as they moved through the building. It was obvious she tried to be subtle as she stared—and failed totally.

Piers led them into his office and slammed the door.

“What the fuck is she doing here?” he demanded. “You know it’s against Order policy to bring unmarked humans.”

Tara stood straight and stared back, but Christian smelled her fear. And that meant so could Piers.

“Unless,” Piers continued, “you plan to kill her afterward.” He grinned as the little color in Tara’s face fled. “I could take care of that little job if you like.”

“Piss off, Piers.” Christian turned to Tara. “Go sit over there for a moment while I talk to this moron.”

Tara frowned at the command, but decided now was not the time to exert her independence. She sat on one of the leather and steel chairs in front of Piers’s desk.

“I want one of the witches to have a look at her talisman,” Christian explained. “Maybe they can identify who worked the charm.”

“What do you think it’s doing? And why’s a human wearing such a charm?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

“Okay, but you’re going to wipe her memory of all this, aren’t you?”

Across the room, Tara stared at the floor, hands clasped tight on her lap. As though she sensed his attention she glanced up and smiled, and something shifted inside him. Something he had never expected to feel.
Certainly not for a human.

“Perhaps. When this is over.”

“You need to mark her, Christian.”

“I’m not sure she’ll agree.”

Piers stared at him in total amazement. “If I explain what will happen if she doesn’t agree—she’ll agree.”

Christian stilled. His eyes narrowed and his gums ached as his fangs elongated. “Don’t touch her,” he growled.

“Perhaps you should explain then. It’s the one safeguard we have against the humans turning on us. There can be no exceptions.”

Piers spoke the truth, but the time was coming to an end when they could live in secret among humans. They should plan how to move forward when that time came rather than cling to the old rules. It was an argument he had had with Piers many times.

“I’ll talk to her, but alone.”

Piers nodded. “I’ll go speak with Ella.”

…

Tara wasn’t going to admit it, but she was terrified. Had been since they walked out of the elevator and she realized she was deep underground, surrounded by the undead, and all that stood between her and a horrible end was another undead.

She watched as the two men, or rather two vampires, spoke. Their voices were pitched too low to hear, but the exchange didn’t seem friendly. Despite the difference in coloring, they were curiously alike. Both tall, pale skinned, and stunningly gorgeous. She wondered whether it was because they only chose tall, handsome men to change into vampires or if something happened during the change.

She knew, by the way they frequently glanced her way, that Piers and Christian were discussing her. Piers appeared angry—Christian must have broken a few rules to bring her here. Then again, he didn’t strike her as the sort of person who bothered with rules. Ever.

Unlike herself, who had lived the first twenty-two years following a set of rules given to her by a dead woman. At the thought of rules, her hand went to her locket. She’d broken Rule Number Three, and it hadn’t turned out any better than number two. What had Christian seen that was so bad? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

“Tara.” Christian held out a hand to her. She stood and walked toward him. As his fingers wrapped around hers, she instantly felt better.

“I’ll leave you two to talk,” Piers said.

Christian nodded. “Thanks, Piers.”

He left the room.

Christian pulled her toward the desk then pushed her shoulder until she sank into the chair.

Alarm flickered through her. “I’m going to need to sit for this?”

He took the seat opposite and sat for a moment, watching her closely.

“What?” she asked.

“Vampires have remained secret among humans for thousands of years only by following a strict set of rules. One of
t
he Order’s jobs is to ensure that everyone upholds those rules.”

“I guess you broke a few by bringing me tonight.”

“A few. I thought it was worth it to get the information we need, but perhaps we should have had this conversation before I brought you here.”

“What difference would it have made?”

“We have two ways of dealing with humans who discover our secret. The ones that survive the experience, that is. The first is to erase their memories.”

“You can do that?”

“Short-term memories are easy. The longer the memory is in the mind the harder it becomes, and the more likely we are to cause some sort of permanent damage, so we try to do it as soon as possible. It’s how we deal with those humans we feed from.”

“Have you ever done it to me?”

He shook his head. “Sometimes I hunt, but I don’t need to feed with much frequency any more. Most vampires have humans who they feed from regularly.”

“Like you and Graham?”

He nodded. “Those we feed from more than once, we bind to us by the second method.”

“And that is?”

“We mark them.”

“Mark them with what?”

“It’s not a physical mark. It’s a” —he thought for a moment— “psychic mark.”

“You mark their brains?” Tara shuddered. She didn’t like the thought of anyone doing anything in her brain. Christian watched her closely, and she realized where this was going. “You want to mark my brain, don’t you?”

“I don’t want to, but I have no choice.”

“You always have a choice.”

“You’re right, but perhaps I should set the choices out before you.”

She swallowed. “Go ahead.”

“The first is obviously that you allow me to mark you. I promise you the process will be painless.” His eyes swept over her, suddenly hot, and she had a flashback to the feel of being enclosed within his arms. Heat coiled low in her belly as though it had been waiting for something to set it aflame again.

“You might even enjoy it.” A shudder ran through her at the dark promise in his voice.

She stared into his face for long moments then broke the link between them. “And the alternative?”

The smile faded from his face. “That Piers marks you by force, and I can’t promise that won’t hurt.”

Shock flashed through her. “You’d let him do that?”

“I don’t think I would have any say in the matter. I’m strong, but perhaps not that strong. We’re surrounded by over a hundred vampires. Of course, I would fight—you are, after all, my responsibility—but in all likelihood, I would die. So I think the question you need to ask yourself is would you let me mark you now, or would you prefer I’m killed and you’re held down while Piers rapes your mind.”

“You’re trying to scare me.”

“Perhaps. Am I succeeding?”

She took a deep breath. “So maybe you’d better explain this whole marking thing, because I’m not letting you into my mind without knowing what you’re up to.”

Amusement glinted in his eyes. “It will tie you to the vampire who marks you.”

“Tie? In what way tie?”

“There would be some… compulsion involved.”

“You mean I’d have to do what you say? I don’t think so.”

“Tara, we have the ability to make any human do as we say, it just takes less effort with those that are marked.”

“Let me get this straight. You can make me do what you want.” He smiled again and nodded. “Have you?” she asked.

“No.”

“Could you?”

“I believe so. What else is it you wish to know?”

She found it hard to move past the whole compulsion thing. “Tell me more about this tie.”

“Your life would be bound to mine. If I were to be destroyed, in all likelihood you would die.”

Her heart skipped a beat, then sped up as she realized it was the thought of Christian being destroyed that upset her, rather than her dying in response. When had she started to care about him?

“And are you planning on that happening anytime soon?” she asked.

“Not planning, no.”

She could live with that. “So, last question. Is it permanent?”

“I’ve never tried to remove a mark. Perhaps it’s possible. Most humans are happy with the benefits of belonging to a vampire.”

She remembered Graham with his designer suits and his dreamy expression when he thought of Christian feeding. Then her mind focused on one word and her whole body tensed. “Belonging? I don’t want to belong to anybody.”

He sighed. “I think you must trust me on this one, Tara. I promise I’ll not abuse the mark, and afterward, if possible, I’ll remove it.” He took her hands. A sense of calm washed over her, and she wondered if he were doing something to her mind. “And Tara, there are benefits.”