by Jeanne Rose
“Perhaps it had rusted through. It fell off when he staggered outside.”
How strange. “But he was screaming.”
”Because he was obviously in pain.”
She didn’t think she wanted to bring up the snarls. Perhaps, in her woozy state, she’d only imagined them.
Val was glancing around. “We waste time. There is another taxi at the stop sign over there. It has been idling for several minutes. He is probably calling in this accident.”
“Meaning the police will be arriving soon.”
They walked away, Adriana struggling to keep up with Val’s long strides as they darted down a shadowy alley. Maybe they should have stayed so she could tell the police what happened to her. Maybe that would have lessened suspicion against Val. In less than two blocks, they emerged onto Chicago Avenue again and flagged down a real taxi.
“Where to?”
Adriana surprised herself a little by blurting out Val’s address. Why not? Leaning against the hard wall of his chest, resting her head on his shoulder, she felt truly safe.
Valentin Kadar wasn’t a murderer. The botched kidnapping proved that. He’d been telling the truth about having a terrible enemy.
CHAPTER TEN
ADRIANA WAITED until the taxi dropped them off at Val’s house to vent her worries. “There is a twisted murderer watching us, isn’t there? And he has people working for him. The kidnapper said I was your honey and that he was taking me to his boss.”
“We must get you inside, take care of your cheek. It is swelling. There will be a bad bruise.”
Bruises were hardly on the same level with murder but Adriana truly was feeling wrung out and appreciated his attentions. He lifted her easily and carried her up the steps of the porch. The door opened smoothly as he touched the lock.
The house was dark as usual, but Val had no problem finding the antique couch. He laid her carefully against the cushions, switched on the little brass lamp and told her he was going to the kitchen to get some ice.
When he returned, he knelt beside the couch and placed a cold pack against her cheek. “There, that should help it feel better.”
She winced.
“I am so sorry that cur hurt you.” His low voice made her spine tingle. “At least his face will be bruised, as well.”
“From hitting his head?” She couldn’t help having an inkling there had been more, hadn’t quite been able to forget those snarls. “You didn’t do anything to him?”
“Nothing an abductor did not deserve.”
“But you weren’t aware that I was in the taxi at first, were you? You said the driver staggered out of the vehicle and fell on his own.” Not unless Val had actually sensed she was in danger . . .
He asserted, “I could tell he was up to no good.” As if that remark would settle things. Then he stroked her good cheek, creating warmth that spread as far as her fingers and toes. “Would you like a glass of wine, Adriana? Or some cognac? It will dull the pain.”
She could use a drink. “Cognac or brandy would be great.”
“Then I shall get it for you.”
He rose to glide toward some shelves that stood against one wall of the room, leaving her with a slight sense of unease. Though she appreciated his ministrations and the safety he seemed to offer, she only wished she could trust him completely. There was always this undercurrent of something hidden, secret . . . even violent . . . about Val. In her mind’s eye, she saw him picking men up and throwing them like they were rag dolls – the guy who’d tried to take her taxi, then Lilly’s pimp a couple of nights ago. Now there was this newest incident, whether or not the kidnapper merited what he’d gotten.
Val poured two glasses of cognac, one of which he placed on the table beside the lamp. The other he offered to Adriana as he knelt beside her again.
Their fingers grazed as she took the glass and she nearly melted from the banked fire in his eyes. She blinked and took a sip as he brushed back her hair with a tender gesture.
“Where did you get these?”
It took her a moment to realize he meant the new earrings she’d purchased and put on earlier. She gazed at him closely, noting his frown. “There’s a young woman who sells jewelry at After Dark. Do you like them?”
“Roses aren’t my favorite flower.”
“I seem to remember your saying something about an allergy.” His pallor was noticeable against the shadows in the room.
“You don’t happen to be allergic to the sun, too?” she inquired, thinking about the ridiculous conversation she’d had with Irina. Unfortunately, the tales had been as unforgettable as they’d been wild. “I’ve never seen you out and about except at night. You said you never meet people for lunch.”
He admitted, “I do have a sun allergy.”
“Really? How strange.”
“Not so strange. Merely the result of a rare blood disease that runs in my family.”
Rare blood disease? Now, at that disclosure, Adriana felt a thrill that had nothing to do with Val’s touch. But she couldn’t bring herself to even think about such things as vampires.
“This disease is another reason I take herbs,” Val informed her.
The herbs. She’d never heard of any connected with vampires. But she told herself to think more scientifically and tried to ask an intelligent question, “Does this same disease give you night vision? You seem to need less light than anyone I’ve ever known.”
“I have always had little trouble finding my way about in the dark.” He adjusted the ice pack, adding, “You really should remove the earrings, Adriana. They look fragile. I do not wish to damage them.”
“Why don’t you remove them?” She hated to be manipulative but she wanted to see what he would do.
If she expected a startled stare or sizzling flesh, she was absolutely wrong. Val let her hold the ice pack while he carefully removed the posts. Then he stood and stepped over to the fireplace to place the earrings on the mantel.
Perfectly natural behavior. Which made her relax a bit. Unless it was actually the aroma of the living flower that drove the undead crazy . . .
The undead? Bunk! Vampires were only creatures of fiction.
Concentrating on Val, the man, Adriana took a deep breath as he returned to pick up his glass of cognac and pull a chair close to the couch. He took a sip. She’d seen him eat, if sparingly. Drinking and eating weren’t activities associated with vampires. She should tell Irina that the next time her friend made bizarre accusations.
Meantime, she continued to focus on Val as he reached across to re-examine her cheek. His long, sensitive fingers left trails of heat. Her neck throbbed where he had bitten her.
Bitten. Damn. After finally getting comfortable, she felt uneasiness rise again. Probably because she couldn’t help thinking of the throat wounds on both murder victims. Val had changed the subject when she’d mentioned the killer earlier. Did he actually know the guy’s identity or not?
Stirring, she moved back against the cushions and away from the distraction of his touch. “This killer who’s draining people’s blood and making it look like a vampire.”
He nodded. “The madman.”
She took a couple of swigs of cognac to fortify herself. “Are you certain you don’t know anything about him? He seems to have a personal vendetta against you . . . and anyone you’re associated with.” She pointed out, “Not to mention that he doesn’t seem to fit the description of the average serial killer. They don’t usually hire other people to work for them.”
“That is indeed odd.”
“Who would want to do you damage? Surely it’s more than some deranged individual who observed your nocturnal habits and decided it might be fun to blame some grisly killings on you.”
“I agree. That concerns me and, after what happened tonight, surely must frighten you. But do not worry. I will protect you.”
“A sentiment that’s very touching,” she had to admit. “Though hardly enough.” Not when other people had be
en killed. And when Val wasn’t really answering her questions.
He glowered, his brows drawing together. “It is not enough to offer you protection? What do you want then? The man impaled on a spear?”
She nearly choked on her cognac. “Ugh, how horrible. Why on earth would you think of something like that?”
“You must pardon me, Adriana, but I come from an old-world culture. My family is an ancient one. A Magyar respects the way of the warrior, protects his own whether in war or feud.”
His family. Magyar warriors.
Those words brought up a vision of the night-cloaked, glowing-eyed horde Irina had described so vividly. She lowered the ice pack. “War? Feud? You are hinting that the murderer really is carrying out a vendetta, aren’t you? Does he have something to do with your family?”
“You are jumping to conclusions. Upsetting yourself.”
“I’m upset, sure.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “A friend of mine is dead, as well as a mixed-up young girl who could have started a new life.”
At that, he seemed to sink back into the chair. He sighed deeply. “I grieve for the horrible things that have happened, too.” He sounded absolutely sincere, somber, distressed. “And I cannot forgive myself that a killer has taken people you knew
. . . that he terrorizes you. But again I question what I can do. Except to try to stop similar incidents from happening.”
“Then you’ve decided you’re going to work with the police?” For no matter what he said . . . or avoided saying . . . she couldn’t help but believe he knew more than he was admitting.
“The police.” He made a derisive sound. “You regard such authorities as invincible, hmm?” Then he rose and walked out of the room.
“Val!”
Now what? Confused, frustrated, intent on finishing their conversation, Adriana laid the ice pack aside and attempted to follow him. In the gloom of the dining room, she ran smack into the stack of heavy boxes she’d noticed before. One tumbled off, hitting the floor with a big thud, spilling something dark.
She stooped and probed with an exploring finger, surprised when she realized the contents of the box was dirt. Dirt? For lining a coffin?
Now agitated, as well as confused, she entered the kitchen and stared at the crumbs of soil beneath her fingernails. Val was giving the dog a bowl of water. The friendly-looking animal saw her and wagged his tail.
“He is much better,” Val told her, not remarking on the thud he must have heard from the other room.
She struggled to find her voice, unable to bring up the topic of dirt just as yet. There simply had to be a logical explanation.
She gazed at the dog. “He looks better, has some shine to his coat.” Which was midnight black. “Are the cats okay, as well?”
“There seem to be more of them every day. And I have a young owl nesting in the study.”
“An owl?”
“It hurt its wing but it is recovering.”
“You’ve got quite a menagerie.”
To whom he showed tolerance and affection in his own way. What a contrast to all the talk of murder and vendettas . . . and the ridiculous thoughts about vampires . . .
“I have always appreciated animals, even in Hungary,” Val went on. “They are elemental, in some ways far wiser than humans.”
Despite herself, Adriana was reminded of Irina’s warnings. “What part of Hungary are you from anyway?”
“A remote area in the northeast.” He opened a creaky-hinged cabinet to take out some storage containers and a large unopened bag of cat food. “You will not have heard of it.”
Maybe, maybe not. “Is it anywhere near the town of Kisvarka, the place that has the intact medieval church?”
“Have you been reading about Eastern Europe?”
“Someone told me about Kisvarka this very night. They also repeated a legend about the Kadars.”
”There are many Kadars in Hungary.”
“Kadars that drove away Mongols and Turks and Nazis? Kadars that people fear?”
He didn’t answer as, expression unreadable, he opened the bag of cat food and reached into yet another cabinet to collect more bowls.
Then he moved toward the back door. “Excuse me. I will return in a moment.”
What a strange man.
A strange house.
A strange situation.
She gazed around the dilapidated kitchen with its aged cabinetry and appliances. Idly, she examined the glass containers on the counter, noting one seemed to hold paprika, another some type of seeds, while a third seemed full of crushed green and brown stuff.
The herb mixture Val used for his blood disease?
On a whim, she opened the container and removed a big pinch. She tasted it, wrinkling her nose at the bitter taste, then sprinkled the rest into a tissue she had in the pocket of her lightweight coat. For what reason, she wasn’t certain . . .
But when she heard the door knob turning, she hastily replaced the top on the container, so Val wouldn’t know what she had done.
She moved away to pat the dog and make over him as he wagged his tail harder. “You’re a sweetheart, aren’t you, baby?” She straightened, announcing, “Now back to this murderer. What did you mean by saying you wanted to stop him but that the police aren’t invincible? Are you or are you not going to try to work with them? You can’t fight the killer yourself.”
“I do not like dealing with authorities.”
“Oh, great, then you are thinking of proceeding on your own.” She confessed, “That scares me, Val.” Speaking of fear. “You scare me.” For more reasons than she was willing to say. “You don’t seem to turn a hair at the mention of violence.”
“Some violence is natural. There has always been prey and predator in nature.”
“But you’re not a predator.” Was he? “There has to be another solution than violence.”
“You are worried about wrong-doers? They are the only people I intentionally threaten.”
Meaning he unintentionally threatened other people?
He went on, “If you’d gotten the chance, would you not have struck back at your abductor tonight, Adriana?”
“I-I’m not sure.” But wouldn’t she have hit him with a big purse if she’d had one? Kicked and punched at him if she’d seen a chance to get away?
Even as she pondered that, Val explained, “Fighting back in some situations is natural. I am a man of the old world, someone who battles for his own . . . my land, my family . . . my woman.”
His woman.
“I am referring to you, Adriana,” he said, even as she dwelled upon his exciting words.
For though she was a modern woman, such an old-fashioned statement of possession appealed to her at a deep primeval level. Her pulse threaded unevenly.
He went on, “I could not contain my temper when I overheard Stone Drake express his devotion to you.”
Stone? But she should be glad he’d brought up her ex-boyfriend. Now that was one situation where threats wouldn’t do. She told him, “You didn’t hear me confess anything back, did you? Besides, Stone wasn’t being serious. He’s full of it.”
Val frowned. “Full of what?”
“I’m using an idiom.” Obviously one he didn’t recognize. “It means he’s full of, um, waste materials.”
He raised his brows. “I only know that you tried to protect him and turned against me. That hurt me, Adriana.”
“I didn’t turn against you,” she objected. “I just wanted to avoid trouble. Stone is a thief but he’s not a fighter. And you’re–” She hesitated, trying to figure out how to put it. “You’re very, very strong. I saw you pick up a man more than once and throw him several yards away.”
“I was angry. When adrenaline surges, one never knows what might happen.”
Could simple adrenaline really do that? she wondered for a moment, then forgot about everything but Val as he stepped closer.
He took her chin in his hand. “You have a beautiful heart and soul,
Adriana. You are too good for the likes of Stone.” He added, golden eyes bright but haunted, “You are much too good for the likes of me.”
How could she not respond? Her pulse thrummed as he leaned over her. “I-I’m not perfect.” Furthermore, “But you have to have good inside yourself or you couldn’t recognize it in someone else.”
Again, her heart told her Val couldn’t be a bad man. A little dangerous, maybe . . . when that adrenaline of his surged. And most definitely mysterious.
He ran a finger over her lips, then kissed them, letting out a long, slow breath. “So sweet, like nectar from a flower.”
Desire stirred, trembled, rose from deep within. Her surroundings became hazy, her experiences that night melted away, the conversation they’d been having dissolved into the intoxication Val always produced in her.
“Kiss me again,” she breathed.
He complied most willingly, taking her in his arms, winding his fingers through her long, thick hair. She let her head loll as he laved her throat with his tongue, moved higher to nip softly at her lips, then covered them with his own. When he deepened the kiss, exploring with his tongue, she wound her arms about his neck and rubbed herself against him.
“Ah, Adriana.” He unbuttoned her coat and gazed raptly at the soft flesh mounding above her black bustier. “You are delectable, tantalizing.”
She was also warm, wet, aroused. She could feel that he was ready, pressing hard against his trousers. “I want to make love.”
“And so we shall. But somewhere more comfortable than this kitchen.”
Turning her about, he pressed her tightly against him, back to front, and walked her out into the other room. One of her shoes slipped on the dirt she’d accidentally spilled.
“Sorry, I knocked a box onto the floor,” she murmured, in the heat of passion.
“It is not important. Only materials for landscaping.”
Landscaping? So there had been a logical explanation.
Reassurance only added flames to the fire that had been started. She moaned as he lowered her to the couch and quickly unlaced the bustier. She arched her back as he suckled at first one breast, then the other. His hands wandered, exploring every inch of flesh, caressing every curve. One by one, he removed each piece of clothing until she lay naked.