by Jackie Ivie
“Well. That’s the first hurdle. And it wasn’t so hard, now was it?”
She smiled. His heart took a decided dive right into his abdomen, where it pounded heavily from there. That was a new sensation.
Then again, everything was.
CHAPTER FIVE
Okay.
There was handsome. There was drop-dead gorgeous. And there was ‘smack-you-in-the-middle-of-the-forehead-before-slamming-you-on-your-ass’ sexy. And right now, those monikers were all useless bits of words. Ashley had never seen anything to compare to Lucien. He was beyond description. She’d never come up against such a combination of wicked, dark, dangerous, and sexy. The space seemed to hum with it. And that was before she added in his fangs. They were impossible to ignore, especially since he had his upper lip lifted, forming a semi-snarl.
The guy was killer sexy.
And even that description failed when she factored in the mark on one side of his face. If his torturers had meant to mutilate him, they’d botched it. That scar only added unnecessary dimension to Lucien’s appeal...especially since one line of it snagged against his lower left eye, looking like it became part of his eyeliner. But that was ridiculous. He didn’t wear eyeliner. It just looked like it because he had such thick, black lashes. And they surrounded dark, bottomless eyes. Eyes that deep were impossible to tap and fathom, but damn how she wanted to try! She could gaze into them for hours. Days. Weeks.
Holy crap.
The moment she got a good look at him, her throat closed off, while every pore on her body went on the alert. Instantly. Fully. With the efficiency of a firehouse siren in the middle of the night. It took everything she had to hide it. And nowhere was it safe to look. She’d been talking to him with her usual efficient, professional tone and then wham! Efficiency and professionalism at anything went right out the window. She had no idea vampires were so sexy, although every stupid movie and story usually had that as a theme. Ashley hadn’t paid much attention. Vampires were unreal creatures. Fictitious beings. Imaginary bits of fluff used to entertain and titillate.
And man! Was that all wrong.
She had the proof right in front of her. Vampires not only existed, they were ultra-sexy. No. Wait. That wasn’t right. Akron was a vampire, but he hadn’t done a thing to her, while this Lucien was sending her hormones into another realm. Even his tan-colored robe-thing exuded sexiness. It was pretty plain, but he didn’t look to be wearing much beneath it. Just the view of his throat and upper chest was more than unnerving. It was shiver-inducing. This guy could stop traffic. He probably did. No. Wait. He rarely left his lab. Good thing. He’d create a riot. He’d have trouble walking without stumbling over all the women littering his path. Well. Ashley Evans wasn’t willing to join them. Not with his jaundiced opinion of her gender. She refused to give him even a hint of what he was doing to her. Besides, there wasn’t any justification for it. She was a scientist. Sex was a biological function. Passion and attraction were chemical reactions. Lust was an over-rated emotion, used as often for punishment as for pleasure.
She’d been trained on all the biologically necessary stimuli. Mankind wouldn’t survive without it. She’d passed the tests. She’d even agreed with most of it. And all that knowledge couldn’t stop her hormones from reacting like this? And...wait just a minute. Wasn’t she supposed to be dead? Unreasonable, supreme, sensual attraction shouldn’t even be an issue, let alone one that scrambled her wits and weakened her limbs. And that was just from looking!
She managed to break the gaze, focusing on the tabletop while she swallowed on a dry throat to make her voice work again. “You...do have a laboratory around here, then? One, worth using?”
There was the slightest pause after the first word, but the rest came out fine. And it didn’t betray the shivers.
He pulled something from somewhere inside his robe, set it on the table, and pushed a button. Everything behind her lit up. Ashley spun, catching her second revolution with both hands against the table behind her. She really needed to figure out this movement thing before she hurt herself. And that was just stupid. She shouldn’t feel pain. She couldn’t be hurt.
She was dead.
So why did she still feel so alive? And awkward? Immature and confused?
Apparently, Lucien had remote controlled lighting. And a hell of a lot of it. Ashley blinked and then stared. The space that had been simply cavernous blackness was now easily identifiable as a lab, although the two-story, black rock fireplace at the far end gave it a decided medieval feel. He had long tables, all sorts of equipment, some shrouded with dust cloths, some easily identified. Beakers. Stands. Ring clamps. Tube holders. Bunsen burners. Pinch clamps. Buret clamps, wire screens. Akron hadn’t been off on his description of this laboratory. Lucien had the basics and then some.
“What kind of microscopes do you have?” she asked.
“All kinds. From all eras. I don’t discard them.”
“Do you have a transmission electronic microscope?”
“Several.”
“How about a high resolution spectrometer?”
“In the corner.”
“I don’t suppose you have a bio-molecular computer? For DNA sequencing...should I need it?”
“Of course.”
“Wow. Just...wow. Okay. I’ll save the gushing for later, and just go fetch my pack, then.”
“Gushing?”
“Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
Damn. She really needed to figure out how to move. She was back from the alcove with her parachute pack before the stool she’d been sitting on finished falling. The table was what stopped her as she slammed into it. And then it got worse. The darn thing not only cracked in half, but one part slid about three inches, shuffling some of his papers and rattling his ink pot. For some reason, the emotion that filled her wasn’t embarrassment. Or anger at her inability to control her own movements. Or even confusion. It was something baser. Darker. More illicit.
Like lust.
“Uh. Gee. Sorry about that.” She mumbled. Her teeth even felt funny. Tingly. Like she’d just swished some really brisk mouthwash through her mouth.
“For what?”
“For um...breaking your table.”
He huffed something that could be amusement. She didn’t check. She was doing her best to ignore a series of vibrations that just wouldn’t cease. They emanated from him and seemed to go right at her. She didn’t just sense them. She could almost see them. Rippling through the air. Creating something...warm. No. Red. And hot. And what should be a dead heart ramped into high gear, her breathing grew faster, her nipples hardened. Her knees wobbled.
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” he finally replied.
Ashley picked up one of the papers that had spilled from his pile. Her hand shook. She ignored it. “I might be off, but this looks like...a formula. It’s really faded. Hard to read. Tinta. Is this for—ink? What on earth is gale? Gall? Grill? I can’t make it out. It’s too faded. Looks like Spanish...really archaic Spanish.”
“You know the language?”
“I had a girlfriend in middle school who was Hispanic. She taught me a little bit. Days of the week. Months. How to order beer. I mean cerveza. You know. The basics. I considered studying it, but I wanted to be an archeologist. And now I’m hooked by forensic science, although I don’t really know what I’ll specialize in. Maybe anthropologic forensics. I haven’t decided and it looks like a moot point now that I’m dead. And all of that nervous chatter aside, no. I can barely recognize Spanish.”
“Nervous chatter?”
Ashley kept her eyes on the sheet she held. It was better.
“I’m no expert, but this really looks like...parchment? It’s been ripped on one side. Actually...those look like binding marks. This came out of a book, didn’t it? But, not these books. It’s too old. Oh my. These pages are torn, too. How terrible. These should all be in a hermetically sealed container in a museum somewhere. What happened?”
&n
bsp; “I had a slight accident earlier.”
His voice was loaded with something that spoke to her beneath the words. Hitting her spine. Rippling beneath her skin. Ratcheting her hormones. Moistening places she wasn’t willing to address. This was horrid. She’d just met him. She’d never felt like this for a man when she lived. Why on earth would she be so stricken with desire and lust in death? That wasn’t fair. Besides, he hated women. That alone should be strengthening her resolve.
“You were repairing these, weren’t you? That’s why you had the quill and ink thing going. So the repair wouldn’t stand out. You’re quite good. No hesitation at all. So...are you Spanish, or just good at things like forgery?”
That was confrontational and argumentative. He ignored it. Nothing about his voice changed. He still sent reams of tremors along her. They reached her chest, making her heart stutter. And a dead heart shouldn’t have this trouble.
“My mother was a Spaniard.”
“And your father?” she asked.
“Nobody knows who my sire was.”
“Oh. Raw nerve. Got it. So. You’re Spanish...and yet you studied under the great Giordano Bruno?”
“I did.”
“Color me misinformed, but wasn’t he Italian? In fact – if I remember right – I think it was the Italian arm of the Inquisition that finally got him.”
“It was.”
“I didn’t know he was in Spain.”
“I traveled.”
Keep talking Ash. “Really?”
“Travel was not an unknown concept. Even then.”
“I never said it was. Wow. You’re pretty defensive, too. On top of the territorial stuff. I think Akron forgot to mention that part when he described you to me.”
“That’s interesting. I wonder why.”
He was being snide. Or something. And she was way out of her league. Time to admit it and retreat. She was actually starting to see images. Sexy things. Naked skin. Really hard, muscular, defined male torso and just-as-muscled arms and legs. Entwined with hers. On this table. Right where she looked.
Shit. And shit again. She so didn’t need this. Ash glanced up, met his impossibly black eyes, and quickly looked back down. Even if the table danced with naked images, it felt safer. A lot safer.
“I didn’t ask him, if that’s what you’re saying. It’s more because...well. You’re in charge of the lab, and I need a lab. So...yeah. He described you. As if anyone could do that with any accuracy. Uh. Let’s just ignore that statement, and move on again. Akron said we’d be working together. You have a problem with that?”
He chuckled, the sound interweaving with his weird vibes. It added depth and volume to air that was almost tactile. It should’ve raised her hackles and readied her defense. It did the opposite. She had to open her lips to gain breath. And that was just more stupidity. She was dead. So, why was she breathing?
He’d finished his amusement. At least, he’d stopped laughing at her. She wasn’t looking up to see why. Actually, she wasn’t willing to look at him for any reason. Not until she had this horrid sensation conquered. Or at least controlled.
“You’re very young,” he told her.
“In comparison? No lie. How old are you?”
“Four hundred and some odd.”
“I mean when you lived.”
“Oh. Probably...thirty. Or thereabouts.”
Thirty. Wow. He was rapidly approaching perfect. Perfect age. Perfect looks. Perfect body...or what the robe was letting her imagine. Keep talking, Ash. Common sense will catch up. Maybe.
“Thereabouts?”
“Illegitimate births don’t generate records, and few kept track back then. Unless one was royalty. Or a member of the aristocracy. I was not.”
“Okay. Sounds like I hit another raw nerve. I seem to be finding all of them, don’t I?”
“I don’t have raw nerves.”
That had to be a lie. Or a gross misstatement. He’d tensed or something. The vibes coming off him seemed even more intense. And they were radiating in faster waves. This shouldn’t be happening. She was suddenly incredibly hot. She’d shed her freefall skydiving apparel in the alcove. That left only her custom-fitted body suit, fashioned of breathable fabric that whisked away moisture when necessary and held in body heat as needed. This suit was perfect for any night sky conditions, even plummeting from ten thousand feet during fall temperatures in the Cascades. Yet, right now it was so hot, it was inducing sweat, and so restrictive her skin itched.
The combination was actually starting to scare her.
CHAPTER SIX
Fear was a response. It had two sides. One side she called fright. That one could debilitate. Weaken. Paralyze. It was to be avoided at all costs. The other side was Ashley’s favorite – the thrill side. That one contained an adrenaline rush. Surges of energy. Incredible clarity of mind. Heart-pounding excitement. It was an unbelievable high, way beyond anything pharmaceutical. That’s why she chased it while everyone else seemed to be tapping away at their keyboards or phones.
She’d been called crazy-fearless. If anyone wanted a partner in something thrilling, dangerous, or even death-defying, they called her. She was more than willing to participate. She usually did something to amp the thrill factor higher still. But they were wrong about her fearlessness. She’d felt the fright side many times. She’d just squelched it. Life was fleeting. Nobody knew what waited around the next corner. Her parents hadn’t. Even if she got to a ripe old age, nobody guaranteed mental and physical functioning. Health and ability were finite and fleeting.
And all of that wasn’t preparation enough for what was happening right now. In this subterranean lab. Alone. With him.
She felt like she was getting bombarded with every spot of fear she’d ever ignored. It came in a surge that meshed into the thrill side, creating a chemical reaction that added up to pure, physical, mind-blowing lust. Or something close.
Shivers coursed her skin. Her heart beats changed from hard heavy thumps to fast-paced taps. Both brought a touch of light-headedness. Her breath came in small gasps she worked to hide. Her palms were slick. And her shaking? Oh. Bother. That was getting impossible to disguise. Nothing she tried altered any of it, either. She’d never felt anything like this. Not in life, anyway. It was unfair that it happened in death. Or un-death. Or whatever this stasis was that she’d landed in. His little answers, said in low tones that carried hints of amusement, didn’t help at all.
Why were all the lessons wrong? Huh? Mental acuity and strength were supposed to trump the physical realm. That was the scientific viewpoint. Hadn’t she fully incorporated it into her life from childhood? Back when she’d been orphaned, she’d made a promise to herself. She wasn’t letting anything get to her. Ever. Having emotions equaled dealing with loss and pain. No love. Passion. Fear.
That outlook served her well. She’d received her share of offers. She’d even had a few boyfriends. Nothing that lasted. How could it? She’d been accused of being cold-hearted. So? They could accept her or go elsewhere. She couldn’t help it. Nothing about her relationships was exciting. Earth-shaking. Nothing that made her heart tick up a beat. Men were easily ignored, and just as easily forgotten. Until now. With this Lucien character. When she was dead.
What the hell was going on?
Lucien wasn’t speaking. He didn’t have to. She felt him. She didn’t check. Not even to peek. Oh. No way. She didn’t need to see him...just sitting on his stool, focusing on her with his incredibly dark eyes. Watching. Probably evaluating. And she was tongue-tied and visibly shaking. No wonder he thought women so beneath him.
Great. Just great, Ash.
She cleared her throat. “Okay. No raw nerves? Good. It’s difficult to work...with someone who gets easily offended. I don’t have any, either. I mean, um...I got orphaned at age ten. You learn pretty fast...uh, not to show much, and then you...um. Well. You learn how not to feel it.”
Damn. She couldn’t even get an explanation out without trembling
. And her voice went up and down the scale as if an adolescent guy was in control of her vocal chords. He grunted something that could be agreement. Or argument. Ashley just blazed on. Despite how stupid it sounded, or how much it kept revealing.
“So. You’re thirty? Well. I’ll be twenty-five. Next week, in fact. That’s when I come into my trust fund, and—oh. Wait. I’m dead. I won’t inherit anything.”
“Is it much?”
Oh good. He actually spoke words. They were in an even deeper tenor, one that sought out her spine and crawled up it. Ashley resorted to doing something physical to tamp it. She curled her hands into fists and tightened them in order to get her voice to work. Over what had to be lust. Massive, overwhelming, pulse-stirring lust. No wonder all the world religions had such a problem with it. And then she had to say something. Anything. Or he’d know how much he affected her!
“I...used to think so,” she coughed midway. “I...have since changed my mind.”
“You have?”
Whoa. This Lucien’s voice was a major weapon. Especially since she refused to look at him. It would be way too scary-thrilling. She might actually react. And jump on him or something. And that would be too embarrassing to live through.
Wait.
She was dead. Why on earth didn’t it feel like it?
“Why?” he asked.
“Oh. Um...facts got in the way. They have a way of doing that. I mean, I was flown here in a really nice, multi-million-dollar, private jet. I got a good look at this huge-ass, multi-million dollar castle. And now I’m in a state-of-the-art laboratory that probably exceeds the GNP of several countries. My inheritance is a looking like pure pittance in comparison.”
“Is it enough to gain your death?”
“Who would want that?”
“Your heir.”
“I don’t have—oh. Wait. There’s my half-brother, Bob-the-blob. I mean, Robert. He’s a couple of decades older than me. From my dad’s first marriage. He’s the only one left of the family. I don’t know how estates go, but I guess he’d probably inherit. But why would he need it? He already got his share. Besides, I don’t think he’s that smart. At least...um. I don’t think he’s that smart. And he’s lazy. He never moves his fat ass from behind his desk. That’s why I call him the blob. He’d never take up skydiving.”