Graves of Wrath

by Lina Gardiner

  “We’ve been so busy getting resettled here, we haven’t had time to ourselves. We have some making up to do,” he said, pushing her gently against the wall and pinning her there while he nibbled on her earlobe.

  “If that’s a promise to spend more time with me, I’ll hold you to it,” she said against his hot mouth, then licked a path to the carotid artery in his neck.

  He let her go there, knowing it was erotic for her. Not that he’d stop her, if she needed some blood to maintain herself.

  Groaning, he broke away from her magnificent body long enough to draw her into his bedroom. He had the biggest bed. The bed in her bunker was a super-single, another point of contention for her. She missed her king-sized bed at home, even though she only experienced it upon lying down and waking up.

  He liked the way she sighed while he unzipped her black skirt and let it fall to the ground. God in heaven! She was wearing the barest of G-strings. Red! Did she know this was going to happen tonight? Maybe he wasn’t the only one with plans for tonight.

  “Nice,” he said.

  “Wait until you see the rest,” she mumbled, yanking off the pale yellow angora sweater that had accentuated her firm breasts and tantalized him all evening.

  She always knew how to make him crave her. And crave her he did.

  Under the sweater, the red lace, see-through bra that was so flimsy it was barely there, took his breath away, and was nearly his undoing.

  “I’m glad you’re doing lots of shopping here,” he said, barely containing his lust.

  She ran her hands down his back and cupped his rump, pulling him against her. “Are we just going to stand next to the bed, or should we get more comfortable?”

  “Comfort is not what I had in mind for you, my love. I intend to make you scream with pleasure.”

  “Wow. That’d be something, if you could make a vampire scream.”

  “Is that a challenge, baby?”

  He took his time undressing while she eyed his body, making him grateful he’d stayed in shape. He’d always worked out, even in his darker days when he’d been close to alcoholism, before he’d been recruited to the vampire-hunting team and turned his life around.

  He pulled her into bed and kissed her until all he could envision in his mind was her luscious body. He rolled on top of her, pinning her to the bed, taking his time kissing her face, her neck, every sensual spot, until she’d started purring under his ministrations.

  She wasn’t screaming yet—but it was a good start.

  What he was doing must be working, because her eyes were turning dark and her teeth partially extended.

  Sweat broke out on his back and dripped down the sides of his face, but he kept the momentum going. She wasn’t helping him keep his cool by moving erotically against him. It was all he could do to hold his own.

  It wasn’t until the moment she screamed his name that they went over the edge together.

  Sated.

  Satisfied, and totally in love with this woman, he fell onto the bed beside her and pulled her luscious, naked body on top of him.

  “I love you, Jess,” he said. “With my heart and soul.”

  She nuzzled her face against his, and kissed his neck. “I feel the same way, lover. Only I can’t exactly promise my soul, since I don’t have much of one in the first place.”

  “Darling, you have more soul than most humans,” he said, running his hand across her beautiful hip and down her tight rump.

  “Britt, I know I’m one of the undead, but somehow, when you make love to me, I actually think I can feel my heart beating. Pounding, actually. You’re amazing. I’m so thankful that we are together. You make me feel almost whole.”

  “You’re more whole than any woman I’ve known.”

  She lifted her head, and stared at him with her beautiful, now green eyes. “And just how many women are we talking?”

  He laughed. “Not that many. I was married, so at least one,” he admitted.

  “Just one?” She shook her head.

  “Well, maybe two,” he said, then pulled her close for another kiss. He’d never get enough of her.

  Since he’d become one of the Fallen, he didn’t need as much sleep. After their hot and sensual bouts of lovemaking, he often got up and took a shower, then went out for breakfast while Jess was in stasis. This morning, after exiting the shower, he stood outside her room with one hand on her door. He could open it—he had the code—but somehow seeing her in stasis in that room felt wrong. He didn’t want to see her in any type of a crypt. In New York, he always waited for her to wake inside her massive bedroom. He’d sit there, waiting for the lights to slowly illuminate seconds before she’d animate. He loved her. He didn’t believe she was truly dead. It didn’t matter that she had no pulse.

  But he didn’t feel comfortable doing that here in this dungeon of a room. And he didn’t think Jess would like it, either.

  Finally, he pushed away from her door, letting his gaze linger there for a few seconds before stepping outside into the morning sun. Heat warmed his skin and the air was scented with some sort of floral aroma he didn’t recognize. After a quick glance back at their building, he made his way to his favorite place for breakfast.

  Since he had plenty of time to kill, he took his time enjoying his breakfast of sausage, eggs, and espresso before making his way to Notre Dame to meet Regent.

  He entered the beautiful church, genuflected and crossed himself, then made his way to the area where Regent worked. He rapped on the massive oak door and waited.

  “Come in, Britt,” Regent said, crossing the room and leading Britt deeper into the old structure. “Follow me. I have another office in a mostly unused part of the church. I guess they wanted to keep me out of the way.”

  Britt frowned. “Why would they do that?”

  “I’m beginning to wonder myself. Yesterday, I found some old texts dating back to the French Revolution when religion was outlawed. I believe it’s documentation that proves a couple of Vatican sects broke off from the church and began their own form of religion right here in Paris during that decadent time when moralities were tested.”

  “That’s all very interesting, but—” Britt looked around to make sure they were alone, before saying, “Aren’t you supposed to be researching the shadows?”

  Regent glanced over his shoulder. “I’m supposed to be finding a lost piece of script that links to the shadows, but so far I’ve had no luck. But I’m not supposed to have told you anything, so we can’t talk about it here.”

  “Maybe there’s more to it, Regent. Maybe there’s something they haven’t told you yet. After all, you have very specific talents and knowledge in a subject most people know little about—say, vampires?”

  “If that’s the case, I have the feeling we won’t find out until the time is right,” Regent said.

  If Jess’s brother was hunting for something that would put him in the line of fire, his job could become extremely dangerous. No wonder Jess wanted to be here. It didn’t surprise him that she had had a sixth sense where her brother was concerned. She’d known he’d need her. And so, here they were.

  Not only were there shadow creatures swirling on the streets at night, but they’d yet to come across any vampires in the city, other than Morana. He had the feeling life would get very interesting once they found the local vamp contingent.

  After he left Regent, Britt walked the streets most of the day, trying to figure it all out. The more he thought about it, the more his gut reacted to Regent’s chance meeting with Morana. He didn’t believe in coincidence . . . which meant they really needed to find out what that woman was up to. Sure, the shadows were dangerous, but she was a vampire. They couldn’t risk turning their backs on her, either.

  A feeling of dread trickled into his gut when he thought of Morana Longin
a. And he’d learned, long ago, to trust his instincts. Something was off in Paris. He just had to find out what.

  Chapter Six

  THAT EVENING, BRITT sipped his coffee while Jess drank her sustenance. Though he was tempted, he avoided letting his mind wander toward more lustful thoughts. He didn’t want to sidetrack his plans tonight. “Did you sleep well, doll?”

  “After our romp, I slept like the dead,” she said.

  He rolled his eyes. “What are your plans tonight, babe?”

  “I thought I’d go by and check on Regent. You coming?”

  He hesitated. “Why don’t I let you and Regent have some time without me tonight?”

  She cast a curious look his way. “Okaay. . . and . . . what are your plans?” She leaned against the doorframe between the kitchen and the living room in that come-hither pose that drove his libido into full throttle instantly.

  Hell. Maybe his plans to covertly spy on Morana could wait.

  “Nothing big,” he said, hating that he’d told her a little white lie. “But, if you have other ideas, I could change my plans.” He grabbed her and pulled her onto his lap before he ran his hands up her back and into her hair, kissing her tenderly.

  “Which are?” she asked.

  “You’re using womanly witchcraft to get to my deepest, darkest secrets aren’t you?”

  She laughed. “I’m a vampire, Brittain. I’ve certainly never been called a wanton witch.”

  “Well, that’s not exactly how I meant it to sound either,” he said.

  “I’m teasing you, silly.” She patted his chest, then slipped off his lap in order to pull on her boots near the front door. “As much as I’d like to take you up on your offer, I really need to check in on Regent tonight.”

  Of course, after their shadow encounters, Jess would need to make sure her brother was safe. Still, he knew she wouldn’t like him wandering the streets alone at night.

  Britt, however, needed to find out more about Morana. There was more to this situation than anyone knew. He was sure of it. So, he’d do his best to check her out. Still, the only way to be certain if she really was Jess’s twin, would be to have their VNA tested. And the only person he’d trust to make that judgment was Dr. Sampson Case, Jess’s forensic vampirologist. That was one more reason for Sampson to make a trip to Paris.

  Britt waited near the café where Morana had been twice spotted by Regent. Either she’d done it deliberately or she really took this route to her job every night. If she came by tonight, he’d follow her and find out about this job of hers.

  It wouldn’t be easy to trail a vampire without her knowledge, but he’d learned a few techniques while on the job as a black ops vampire hunter. The air was scented tonight with heavy perfumes, colognes, and French cigarettes; they would all help hide his scent.

  He waited in the darkest recessed corner of the café, where trailing plastic vines and an umbrella hid him in plain sight. He drank a glass of red wine while he waited. He’d checked his watch about ten times before he finally spotted her coming his way.

  After she passed him, he slipped down the street behind her.

  So far, she hadn’t given any signs of noticing him. She might be going to work, considering she’d dressed in the same retro-chic garb that seemed to be her style—a mini-skirt with a loose blouse hanging low on the sides and high in the back. Her heels were red and six inches at least.

  Her fingernails matched her shoes. Her hair had red tips tonight, and she was smoking. He’d never seen a vampire smoke before, but he was glad she did because he was pretty certain it masked her ability to catch his scent on the breeze.

  For a while, he thought he might have given himself away, because she took a circuitous route through alleyways before descending into a debris pile that was once a set of stairs leading to a section of the city that looked like it should be condemned. He halted and slipped into a recess when she slowed near the entrance of an alley. She looked around before entering, but as far as he could tell, she hadn’t spotted him. She disappeared into the side of an old brick building.

  He waited a couple of seconds before following her into a tiny opening. It led into a tunnel with crusty old safety lights on the wall. He climbed down rusted steel stairs that looked like they might have once been used for tunnel repairs decades ago.

  It didn’t escape him that he’d most likely run into human bones down here. Dammit, he hated his phobia almost as much as he hated the bones that put him into a cold sweat. When he was a kid, Halloween skeletons had terrified him. He had no idea how or why it had started, but he still cringed at the thought of them to this day. And real bones were even worse.

  When he hit the cave floor, he spotted the first skull, then a second and third, followed by more disarticulated bones in the muted glow of the lights. His skin turned clammy and the hair rose on the back of his neck. Of course, this was one of the many entrances to the Kingdom of Bones—his worst freaking nightmare. He shuddered and asked himself if he could actually do this. “Crap!”

  Morana had slipped away while he was trying to get hold of himself. The tunnels went off in too many directions for him to guess which way she’d gone.

  Just then, he heard laughter and clanking of feet climbing down the rickety stairs behind him. He waited while a group of women, most likely in their late twenties, literally descended on him.

  “Hi,” he said, expecting they’d give him the cold shoulder and move on without talking to him.

  “Hi, yourself,” one of the women said, giving Britt an interested twice-over. “You’re American?” she said in perfect English, with only a hint of a French accent.

  “I am. And I don’t know where I’m going,” he said, hoping they’d tell him what was so interesting down here.

  “You’re going to LaCave alone?” the female gasped. “Mon Dieu, monsieur, that is not wise. There are several hundreds of miles of tunnels down here. You might never find your way out again.”

  “It’s exciting though, isn’t it? It’s the most popular bar in the city.” A curvy blonde with heavy makeup pinned her heavily defined eyes on him. “We’ve been coming here since we were sixteen. The atmosphere down here is the best.”

  “That’s what I’ve heard,” Britt lied. “Since I don’t know how to find the bar on my own, would you mind if I came along with you?”

  “Bien sur,” she said. “We’d never turn down a handsome man like yourself. Please, join us.”

  One of the women said something in French and they all broke into laughter. Britt didn’t care if it was at his expense; he only cared about finding this mysterious club. It got discernibly darker as they moved deeper into the tunnels. One of the women turned on a halogen flashlight she’d been carrying in her pocket. The hallway illuminated ahead of them, highlighting dark eye sockets in the skulls planted in the walls—eye sockets that seemed to watch them with dark intent.

  “Jesus!” he said before he realized it.

  “It’s spooky, isn’t it?” a redhead said. “That’s part of the excitement, you see?”

  Hell, he didn’t find it exciting. This dark and unnatural place with carefully planted skulls’ unseeing eye sockets made his skin crawl.

  “It’s not too much farther,” the blonde said. “Watch your step though. The ground is uneven ahead.” She grabbed his hand and held it the rest of the way. He went along with the game.

  Doing this without Jess made him edgy. Hopefully, though, she’d understand, especially if he learned something about Morana.

  Before reaching the opening of the cavern where the bar was supposedly located, deep bass music reverberated through the very rock and bones themselves. His stomach twisted.

  “This is it,” the blonde said, excitement in her voice again. “What do you think?”

  “Impressive.” But all he could focus on
was ignoring the skulls that watched him from the walls.

  The club, situated inside a cavern, was larger than he expected. And it was lit from ceiling to floor with every kind of theatrical lighting one could imagine. A fully equipped bar built of marble and brass was located in the far right corner of the room. Throngs of people sat at tables, while others writhed on a built-up dance floor in the center of the cave.

  At least eight bartenders worked the bar, and Morana was one of them. She hadn’t lied about her job. One point in her favor.

  She hadn’t spotted him as far as he could tell, so he stayed with the group of women, who pulled him along with them to meet their other friends.

  “What is your name?” the blonde who’d held his hand in the tunnel asked.

  “Britt. My friends call me, Britt,” he said.

  “I like it,” she said, pulling out her lipstick and reapplying it liberally without a mirror. He’d always been curious about how women did that without smearing it everywhere.

  “What are you drinking?” he asked her and she practically purred at the offer.

  “I’m having the LaCave specialty—a Longina Long Island Iced Tea. It’s made with a special brand of Chinese Tea that has long-life properties.”

  “Speaking of Long Island, I’m from New York, myself,” he said glancing at the bar and wondering what else Morana put in the iced tea that was named after her. If everyone was drinking it, it must be okay. Maybe she thought it was ironic that people believed Chinese tea could give them a longer life, when she lived forever.

  “You’re from New York? How exciting,” the blonde said.

  After they received their drinks, the others in the group introduced themselves to Britt in broken English. He couldn’t possibly remember everyone’s name, but he did try. After all, they were his cover.

  “My name’s Sylvie. Are you seeing someone?” the blonde asked point blank.

  He nodded quickly. “Practically engaged.”

  “But you’re here alone?” Her eyebrows went up suggestively.