Whiteout (Aurora Sky (17 page)

Giselle emerged from the bathroom dressed, her hair combed and blown dry. When Dante offered her the McNasty, she refused. Couldn't blame her there.

“If you don't want it, Tommy will eat it,” Dante remarked.

The dog wagged his tail in agreement
.

He unwrapped the fish sandwich and set it on the ground. Tommy wolfed it up.

After wiping his hands on his pants, Dante lifted his duffel bag off the ground and set it on Giselle's bed. He pulled out an empty garbage sack and began filling it with clothe
s. “I passed a
laundromat
on the way to pick up food. Toss your clothes in here.”

“Someone might recognize you,” Giselle said, sounding like a broken record.

Dante grinned. “That's why you're going.”

Sure, food was worth the risk, but not laundry. Typical Dante. Not that I was complaining. Giselle had locked Dante inside a basement,
so
laundry was the least she could do.

I dug through my backpack and wadded up my jeans,
T
-shirts, tank tops, socks, and
undergarments into one big ball, carried it over, and dumped it inside the trash bag.

Dante chucked his clothes into the sack. Once finished, he looked me up and down. “What about the clothes you're wearing now?”

I wrapped my arms around my abdomen. “I don
't have anything else to wear.”

Dante's smile stretched across his checks. “I don't see that being a problem.”

I rolled my eyes. “The
T
-shirt and sweats stay.”

Giselle slid her arms through the straps of her backpack and grabbed the garbage sack. Once Dant
e had given her directions to the
laundromat
, she stepped out. The truck rumbled to life soon after, the sound
swiftly
fading.

Dante folded his arms and leaned back on his heels. “So… how much time do you think we have?” He glanced suggestively from the be
d to me.

“I think the shower is all yours and you can have all the time you want,” I said with a smirk. Dante was beginning to sound like his
old self. I
t was a
small
comfort to see his playful side emerging.

“Right,” Dante said, bobbing his head as though
to a club beat. “Gotta freshen up first.” He scooped a comb and several plastic bottles from his duffel bag. The guy had more toiletries than I
did
.

Before he could make it to the bathroom, I called out, “Oh, and Dante…”

He turned, a hopeful look in his e
yes.

“Better make it a cold shower.” I grinned wickedly.

Dante clasped a hand to his heart. “Oh, now that's just plain evil.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go wash up. I can smell you from across the room.”

The next fifteen minutes were blissfully all to myself. I slid un
der the covers of my bed for the night, relishing the feel of the mattress beneath me. Once I'd snuggled into my spot, I adjusted the pillow and propped my head up and stared at the TV across the covers.

After Dante
finished in the bathroom, he emerged, th
ankfully dressed. I'd half expected him to strut out with his towel wrapped around his waist, chest glistening with water dro
plets, or worse, entirely nude.

Dante jumped onto the opposite side of my bed and scooted his back against the headboard. “What are
we watching?”

I kept my eyes on the TV. “I'm just flipping through.”

“Can I have the remote?”

I rolled my eyes. Typical male. I dropped the remote in Dante's lap, not caring what we watched.

It didn't take long for the TV to put me into a trance. At some
point, Dante said he was taking Tommy out one last time for the night. I nodded, eyes on the TV. The door to our room opened and closed. Two commercial breaks later, it opened again. After Tommy followed Dante in, he curled into a ball near the front door
and closed his eyes.

I felt pretty sleepy myself. The voices on the screen were lulling me into a semi-slumber. My eyes fluttered and closed. Through the chatter, I heard Dante chuckle softly and say, “Sweet dreams, Aurora.”

The mattress dipped and rose ag
ain when Dante
stood
. In the distance the spray of water started from the bathroom sink. The soothing sound mingled with the voices on the TV.

In a matter of seconds, I plummeted into a deep and all-consuming slumber reminiscent of a coma. I felt like I m
ight never wake again
,
and I was okay with that. But I did wake up. And when I did, Dante was under the covers, sleeping beside me.

 

 

 10

Date With The Devil

 

{Fane}

 

With the hotel's covers flipped aside in a human-looking heap, I got what little sleep I could. I laid motionless on my back, arms folded over my abdomen, wearing nothing besides a black pair of cotton boxer briefs.
Much like a corpse,
I thought cynically. Except for the boxers. When and if my life ever truly ended, the family would dress me up in the nicest suit money could buy, including all the bells and whistles—24-karat gold cufflinks, Italian leather dress shoes—the whole nine (and-a-half-million) yards.

You'd think someone in my position would be ready for such an eventuality.
I'd lived more lifetimes than humanly possible. But scientific and human advancement
s
never failed to
enthrall
me. If I'd died of the plague back in Venice, I would have missed out on so many wonders. The locomotive. Automobiles. Man's first flight.
The
mo
on
landing.
Even the smaller things didn't seem so small. The telephone.
Light bulbs
.
Electricity!

Heating, on the other hand, didn't impress me as much.
I found heat harder to deal with than cold, which didn't bother me at all.
The hotel's thermostat was
set at a balmy seventy-one degrees. Joss and I never kept ours above sixty-five.
Even the boxer briefs were unnecessary with the temperature inside the suite.

I got what rest I could before rising from the queen bed. I unfolded my jeans off the dresser an
d pulled them up my legs on my way over to the large windows overlooking downtown Anchorage. It had taken little convincing on Alfonso's part to make use of the second bedroom included in his suite. Elmendorf Air Force Base was located on the edge of downt
own
,
and I wanted to be as close as possible, especially today. Lieutenant Vince Pearlman was personally escorting us on base to meet with Agent Melcher.

In four hours, I'd get my first face
-
to
-
face with the
devil
himself.

This day had been a long time com
ing and I could barely wait. If the sly bastard wasn't so difficult to get to, I would have sought out an audience sooner.

If Joss had been mistreated in any way, the next ca
ll I placed wouldn't be to the s
enator, but an assassin. I might place that call r
egardless, but first we needed to free Joss and find out everything there was to know about Aurora's whereabouts.

If Jared
showed up at today's
meeting, all bets were off.

Noel said the only message she'd received had been through a third party. The reaso
n Aurora was on the run was because Jared had gotten away. I folded my arms tight across my bare chest, glaring
out
the darkened window. Aurora should have brought me to the hostage exchange. I ought to
have
count
ed
myself lucky Jared hadn't managed to kil
l her in the
ordeal
. The swap could have gone a lot worse. Then again, if I'd been there
,
Jared would
have never walked free
.

The streets were motionless below. It was too early for traffic. We were in one of the tallest buildings downtown. I should have f
elt like a king in his castle. Instead, I felt more like Rapunzel trapped in her tower, the world out of reach.

Even after all these centuries, I'd never really fit into the high life. It felt too restrained—the
company stiff
. I had always been more at eas
e as a wanderer, a plebeian… a low life. My lips formed a wry smile.

Aurora hadn't fallen for Francesco
,
the rich Italian, after all. She'd gone for Fane, the delinquent.

Just because I was a rebel didn't mean I couldn't provide her with the good life. I
wanted to give her everything. Adventure, wonder, luxury…

My undying love.

Hopefully I'd get the chance.

 

    
     

 

By the time Alfonso roused himself from bed, two hours later, I'd made myself at home in the suite's living room. I'd brought along a small portable cooler when I packed the day before, and I lounged shirtless on a couch as I drank blood from a hotel glass. Unfortunately, there hadn't been a microwave to heat the blood once I poured it from the bag. Instead, I let it sit near the heater for half an hour to bring it to room temperature.

Alfonso
strutted
across the room in a short silk robe, hair already styled.

“
Buongiorno
,” he called out cheerfully
.

“
Buongiorno
,” I echoed, lifting the glass to my lips for another sip.

“Cousin, you shou
ld hire yourself a personal donor. Don't tell me there aren't dozens of beautiful young women who would happily extend their necks for the right price?”

I lowered the glass and smirk
ed
. “What makes you think I have to pay for that sort of thing?”

Cocky son
of a bitch. Two could play at that game. I might not be considered drop
-
dead gorgeous by today's standards, but I'd experienced plenty of action in my time—
including
the twenty-first century.

Alfonso's smile stretched. “It is the famous Donado
family
char
m,
si
?”

“Money doesn't buy everything,” I responded, lifting the glass for another thick sip of blood. I felt like Popeye the Sailor
Man
, juicing up on spinach before taking on Bluto the Brute.

“Fortunately, it buys almost everything,” Alfonso was quick to
say. “Such as US senators.” His eyes sparkled with mirth.

I gave an amused guffaw. No disputing that one. I was glad not to.

Meanwhile, cousin
Raffaele had done some digging into Agent Melcher.

Melcher, first name Gabriel, came from the House of Meltech
ener, a family so powerful they made the Donados almost
look
like commoners in comparison. Gabriel came from royal and extremely religious blood. Numerous members of his family had sat on the English throne. Not only that, the man was a
ccustomed to militar
y support. And h
e was several hundred years older than
I
.

Ancient evil.

Nothing I couldn't handle.

His clan had ordered suspected “sinners” to be burned at the stake in his day. Guess he was still carrying on the family tradition of taking down those he
viewed as the damned—himself excluded, naturally. Isn't that how it always worked with bigots?

I had half a mind to
don
my mesh shirt and spiked choker when I went in to see his
R
oyal
A
wfulness. I would love nothing more than to see his look of horror at b
eing forced to play nice with the miscreant Italian vampire. Or I could put on the suit and play the game. Show myself as the upstanding, responsible representative of
the
undead
upper class
. Ultimately, the impression I made with the
senator's
appointed l
ieutenant
was more important. I wasn't aiming for a
cockfight
;
I was aiming for control—a foot in the door.