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The Perfect Kiss

Page 17

by Amanda Stevens


  Anya gasped, pulling away, throwing her head back, closing her eyes tightly against the brutal betrayal.

  “I loved that,” Zach whispered against her ear. “I love it when you lose control….”

  His voice! Oh, what the mere sound of his voice could do to her. How could she resist?

  Everywhere he touched her, her cool skin heated and throbbed. The pain, the pleasure, the exquisite wonder of it all! Her body writhed against his. She wanted more and more and more. It was glorious and beautiful and everything she had dreamed it would be…but, the darkness…the hunger…

  The taste of Zach’s blood clung to her tongue, and Anya could feel that black need, that evil passion rising up inside her again, controlling her, making her do its bidding. He’s yours, it screamed. Take him!

  Anya’s head thrashed against the pillow. For a moment, Zach thought she was in pain, but when he stopped, when he would have moved away, she clutched at his back. Her nails raked his skin, searing him with a fiery desperation that drove him near the edge.

  She was like a wild thing beneath him. She arched her body, touching him so intimately Zach thought his heart would beat its way out of his chest.

  “Hurry,” she pleaded.

  Her tongue flicked out to lick her lips, and the action drew his mouth like a magnet. He kissed her long and hard, and then he kissed her again. She tasted like moonlight, like darkness and shadows and whispering secrets, and when he broke away, when he pulled back to gaze down at her, his breath caught in his throat. She seemed so wild, so feral moving beneath him.

  Her pale hair spilled over the pillow, and her eyes, silver and savage and beautiful, burned into his. He couldn’t look away. Whatever he had unleashed inside her slowly but surely lured him toward the edge….

  No longer able to resist, he plunged inside her, and Anya gasped. Her movements became even more frantic, more desperate. She wrapped herself around him, pulling him closer, tighter, deeper.

  “Hold me,” she whispered. “Don’t let me go.”

  Somehow, without knowing how, Zach knew what she wanted. He grasped her wrists with his hands and raised her arms high over her head. He held her, even when she would have broken free, he held her while they both moved closer, ever closer to that dark and dangerous abyss.

  Zach knew the exact moment when Anya tumbled over. Her body trembled violently against his. Her eyes widened in wonder, in amazement, those crystal depths beckoning him, promising him heaven.

  He kissed her cool lips one last time as he gave in and followed her over the edge.

  * * *

  There was something in the wind.

  Anya sat up in bed. Zach stirred beside her, but slept on. She gazed down at his face and marveled at how easily he rested. Did he not feel it? Did he not feel the evil? It drifted in through the open window as artfully as a whisper.

  You are mine, Anya. You will always be mine.

  Was it Gershom’s voice or her imagination? Anya couldn’t be sure. So many emotions, so many voices swirled inside her head. She gazed at Zach. He looked so peaceful in repose. Wasn’t he tormented by guilt? Wasn’t he plagued by visions of darkness and hunger and eternal loneliness? Wasn’t he terrified by what he had done?

  Anya alone suffered the regrets. Why should Zach be disturbed? What had he done but care for her? What had he done but trust her? What had he done but make love to an illusion he thought was the perfect woman?

  He couldn’t know the consequences, the dangerous repercussions of their actions. He couldn’t know the forces they had unleashed with their passion. He couldn’t know that somewhere out there in the darkness, an unspeakable evil stalked them.

  Anya had defied Gershom. She had risen above his deadly lure. She had proven to him that the humanness inside her was just as strong—perhaps stronger—than the darkness. She had shown him that there were passions and needs inside her every bit as great as the hunger.

  But at what cost? At what cost had she betrayed him?

  She had released a rage inside him that would see both her and Zach dead before he would allow her her freedom now.

  Zach rolled over in his sleep. His lips brushed against her bare shoulder, and Anya could have wept at the tenderness, the intimacy of so light a kiss. But she couldn’t weep. Her tears, like so many other things, had been taken from her.

  Oh, Zach, Zach, what have I done to you?

  She had bound him to her now. Had made him want her more than ever. And Gershom would know that Zach alone had the power to touch the humanness remaining inside her.

  Anya’s legs trembled when she stood. She drew on the tattered gown she’d worn earlier and stepped out onto the balcony. It was so dark out tonight, she thought. Not a drop of light anywhere. Black clouds covered the moon, obliterating even the shadows. The night seemed endless….

  I’m coming for you, Anya. Soon. Very soon we shall be together.

  Without warning, the beguiling voice drifted through her mind.

  “No,” she whispered to the darkness. “Please let me go. Please tell me how to break the bond.”

  Her only answer was the sound of his laughter in the wind. Laughter…and another emotion. A deeper, darker, more deadly emotion. Fury, she thought. The jealous fury of a lover betrayed.

  Shaking with fear, Anya hurried back inside and bolted the door against the night.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “This place is fantastic!”

  “Then you approve?” Zach asked as he and Julian Sindel stood near the sagging porch of the old Allison mansion. It had been midafternoon by the time Julian and his crew had arrived, and even later by the time Zach had gotten them all settled into the one tiny inn in Towering Oaks.

  Then, just as he and Julian had been about to leave, Roland Sutton and Evan Hawthorne had pulled in, the former as arrogant and condescending as ever, the latter apologetic and remorseful.

  Seething with anger at the betrayal, Zach had taken Hawthorne aside. “I thought we’d agreed to keep this to ourselves. The last thing we need is Sutton here, stirring up trouble.”

  “I’m sorry,” Hawthorne said. “But he heard me making all the arrangements. He asked me point-blank where you were and I couldn’t very well lie to him. Not when—”

  “Not when he could be your new boss, is that it?” Zach asked bitterly.

  Hawthorne flushed, but defiance edged his voice. “Your father has made no secret of his plans, Mr. Christopher. He’s putting together a new campaign. And Mr. Sutton’s backing him all the way.”

  “I’ll just bet he is,” Zach said darkly.

  And then Sutton had insisted on putting in his two cents. “You’ve really done it this time, Zach. William is outraged by this latest stunt of yours.” Sutton’s dark eyes gleamed with satisfaction, making Zach wonder if Sutton had, in fact, already moved into Zach’s office.

  Better watch your back, Zach warned himself. He had no doubt that if Roland Sutton could somehow sabotage this final shoot, if he could make Zach look even more incompetent, he wouldn’t hesitate to do so. He wanted Zach’s job. More so now than ever.

  With an effort, Zach pulled his mind away from Roland Sutton and tried to focus on what Julian Sindel was saying. But it wasn’t easy to concentrate today. Not when his images of Anya and the passion they’d shared were still so vivid and fresh in his mind.

  Just before dawn, he’d awakened with the feel of her cool lips against his, only to find that he was alone in the big, canopied bed. Alone, and achingly aroused.

  And Anya was nowhere to be found.

  Zach hadn’t seen her all day, either—a fact which had done little to improve his mood. She hadn’t even made an appearance when he’d sent Freida to tell her that Julian and the crew had arrived. Zach wondered if, in spite of last night, Anya was still angry with him for arranging this last shoot without her knowledge or consent. If she were, both she and Sutton could give him a lot of grief. Somehow, Zach’s brilliant ad campaign to launch the world’s most unforgettabl
e perfume had turned into a nightmare.

  Still, if he had it to do all over again, Zach knew he’d still want Anya. Even with all the problems and complications, he could envision no one else for Seduction.

  He sighed, running his hand through his hair as he gazed up at the imposing lines of the Allison house. Julian had wanted a better view of the mansion, but as far as Zach was concerned, they were wasting valuable time. The house would only serve as an interesting background detail in the shots. Up close, it was still as unappealing as ever. There was something ominous about the dilapidated structure, something that almost seemed evil.

  Zach scoffed at himself for such a notion. Since when had he been given to flights of fancy? He recalled the story Anya had told him about the house being haunted, but Zach had never been one to believe in ghosts or spooks or things that went bump in the night. Reality was sometimes frightening enough.

  But standing in the dense shade that canopied the yard, Zach felt a cold chill seep up his spine. Maybe he’d been working too hard.

  Julian Sindel seemed to have no such revulsion for the house. The photographer mounted the rotting porch steps and rattled the knob at the front door. “Have you been inside?” he called, pushing at the door with his shoulder. The wood didn’t budge. The house remained solidly fortified.

  “No,” Zach said, remaining in the yard. “The place is boarded up like a stockade.”

  “Odd,” Julian commented, moving to a window. “Abandoned houses aren’t usually given so much care. Why do you suppose someone went to so much trouble to keep out intruders? And look, some of these boards look fairly new.”

  Zach shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe the owners are afraid of lawsuits if somebody gets injured on their property. What do you say we go take a look at the cliffs now? The view is spectacular at sunset.”

  “In a minute,” Julian said absently. “Come here for a second. I think I’ve found a hole.”

  Zach approached the porch with a caution he didn’t understand. There was a smell in the air, a dank odor that conjured images of deep wells and dark cellars. Beneath that was an even more odious scent. Somewhere nearby a dead animal had been left to rot.

  For a moment, as Zach stepped upon the porch, the stench almost overpowered him. “Good God, don’t you smell that?” he asked Julian. “What the hell is it?”

  Julian didn’t answer. He’d found a crack between two boards at the window and was trying to peer inside. With his hands, he tried to pry the planks apart. He jerked on one of the boards, and suddenly the wood came loose. An exposed nail ripped down the side of Julian’s hand. He cursed, letting the boards fall back into place.

  Blood dripped from the wound onto the decaying porch floor. The photographer’s face whitened as he clutched his hand. Zach thought for a moment that Julian might actually pass out.

  “Better stick to cameras,” Zach said, as he removed his handkerchief from a pocket. “A detective you’re not.” He took Julian’s hand and wrapped it tightly with the linen. In the fading light, Zach couldn’t tell how deeply the hand was cut, but blood already seeped through the flimsy bandage.

  The wind shifted in the trees, and the scent of decay grew stronger, more rank. Zach thought he heard a rustle from inside the house, as though some creature had roused to life in the shadows.

  “What was that?” Julian asked.

  “Rats, most likely.” The sound grew louder, and Zach couldn’t seem to shake an almost overwhelming sense of foreboding. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Don’t you want to take a look inside?” the photographer asked gamely. “Hate to think I sustained this injury for nothing.”

  “Some other time,” Zach muttered. “If you’re up to exploring, then we’ll start with the cliffs. I’d like you to see it before the light goes.”

  In spite of Julian’s bravado, Zach thought the photographer looked almost relieved when they walked away from the house. The farther away they got, the better Julian’s color became. He seemed back to normal now, and even paused to unwrap his hand and examine the wound closely.

  “Bleeding’s almost stopped,” he announced. “You’ll be glad to know this little incident shouldn’t affect the shoot at all.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Zach agreed. “I can’t afford any more delays at this point.”

  “Let’s take a look at the cliffs, then,” Julian said. “I’d like to scope out the location before we make a final decision. You amateurs can’t always be trusted to make the right choice. And besides, lighting can be hell on a night shoot. There’s more to be considered than just the view….”

  Julian’s words trailed off as he gazed straight ahead toward the edge of the cliffs. Zach’s first thought was that the photographer had been just as struck by the savage beauty of the spot as he’d been. A strange, awed light shone in Julian’s eyes, but when Zach’s gaze followed his, he realized the photographer’s attention had been captured by something besides the scenery. Something that made Zach catch his breath, as well.

  As though she had appeared out of nowhere with the sunset, Anya stood on the precipice, facing them. Only a rapturous glow in the distance remained of the day. Backlit by the misty light, Anya looked ethereal and fey, a mystical illusion that couldn’t be trusted.

  Zach’s heart pounded against his chest. He couldn’t stop looking at her, couldn’t bear to tear his gaze away. She wore a long, full skirt of some gauzy fabric that seemed almost as elusive as the woman herself. She’d wrapped a black shawl around her shoulders, and as her gaze met Zach’s, she pulled the woolen material even more tightly around her.

  Zach’s first thought was how much more beautiful she seemed tonight. He wouldn’t have thought it possible. He had always thought of her as nature’s most glorious perfection, but now…now she took his breath away.

  He was drawn to her in a way he never had been before. There had always been a pull, always been an attraction, but after last night the bond was so much stronger. He adored her beauty, but he worshiped her spirit. He admired her strength, but felt humbled by the quiet dignity in her soft, silvery eyes.

  Beside him, Julian seemed just as shaken as Zach by Anya’s presence. When Zach moved toward her, the photographer followed reluctantly, as though up close he, too, feared such a perfect creation might vanish.

  Up close, she did seem different. No less beautiful. No less mystical, but not an illusion any longer. She was very real, very much a part of the night. And Zach felt no less drawn to her because of it.

  Her eyes didn’t quite meet his, and for some reason, every vivid image of last night came rushing back to him. He felt hot just thinking about it, about her. One of Anya’s hands fluttered nervously to her throat. Zach found it an incredibly sensuous gesture. He wished suddenly that Julian Sindel would somehow disappear. At that moment, Zach wanted very much to be alone with Anya.

  Her gaze met his briefly, then darted away. “I was wondering where you were,” she said. “It’s getting late.”

  Her concern gratified him. Zach smiled. “I wanted to show Julian this location. He’s the expert, after all.”

  Julian was still staring at Anya. Like Zach, he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her. “It’s perfect,” he said. “Absolutely…breathtaking.”

  Zach heard Anya’s breath catch. She made a soft, almost gasping sound as her fingers tightened at her throat. “What happened to your hand?”

  Zach’s gaze followed Anya’s and found that she was staring at the blood-soaked handkerchief around Julian’s hand. He looked at Anya again. She seemed mesmerized by the sight; her unblinking stare never left Julian’s hand. Uneasiness fluttered inside Zach. Did the sight of blood repel her, sicken her? For some reason, Zach felt compelled to break her fixed stare.

  “Julian will live, won’t you?” he said casually. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

  “But…there’s so much blood.”

  Julian seemed to break free of his own spell. He held up his hand as he unwrap
ped the handkerchief. An angry red mark slashed down the side of his hand, but the bleeding had stopped.

  “It’s just a scratch,” he said. “Stings like hell, though.” He lifted his hand to his mouth, but Anya’s gasp stopped him dead.

  “Please don’t,” she whispered, her fingers trembling against her lips.

  “I’m sorry,” Julian said. He looked embarrassed, awkward. “That wasn’t a very delicate thing to do, I guess. Perhaps I’d better get back to the inn and get some antiseptic on it.” A wariness had invaded his eyes now. Zach noticed the subtle change. The photographer seemed disturbed, pensive, as he gazed at Anya.

  “Go ahead and take the Jeep back to town,” Zach said. “I’ll walk back to the house with Anya.”

  Julian turned to leave, then said over his shoulder, “Are we still on for dinner? We’ve a lot to discuss if we’re going to start shooting tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow night,” Zach corrected. “And we’re on for dinner, but I’d like Anya to join us, as well.” He turned to face her. “Is that a problem?”

  She seemed to have latched on to only one word. “Dinner?” she echoed faintly.

  “Yes, in town. At the inn, unless…”

  “Unless?”

  “Well,” Zach said, shifting uncomfortably, “we could have dinner at your house. Then Julian, Hawthorne and I could come back out here later, when the moon is up—”

  “No!”

  The violence of her reaction shocked him. “All right,” he said. “We’ll have dinner in town, then drive back out here—”

  “No.” Again her denial interrupted him.

  “Look,” he said impatiently, “we don’t have much time. Roland Sutton is here, and he’s after my head. He’ll pounce on any delay, any problem he can find to demolish the entire campaign. I need your help, Anya. Desperately.”

  Anya hesitated. In the depths of her eyes, a battle seemed to be raging. Zach gazed at her, intrigued. What was she so afraid of?

  “You can all come to dinner at the house,” she said at last. “But you can’t come back out here later.”

  “Why not?” Zach and Julian asked at the same time.

 

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