by Kit Tunstall
The driver got out of the Mini to open the small trunk for them. He bobbed his head when Demi handed him a wad of bills. With a cheery farewell, he returned to the cab. Within seconds, three men were pushing their way past Anca and Demi to get into the car.
She stepped back from the men, holding firmly to her carryon. All around her, Anca heard a babble of voices speaking a language she didn’t understand. The train station was modern, but it still seemed alien to her. Having Demi beside her was strangely reassuring, though he was as alien as anything else surrounding her.
He tucked her bags under his arms and held his bag. “We’ll get our tickets and secure our luggage on the train. Once we’re settled, we’ll pick up something to eat in the dining car.”
“Okay.” Her stomach grumbled at the mention of food, and she followed him with renewed vigor. Nerves at the upcoming meeting with her father still caused her stomach to churn with nausea, but hunger was making its presence felt.
When they stepped into the train station, Anca’s eyes scanned the boards with the schedules. Each schedule was in three languages, but she didn’t know any of them.
Demi walked to the ticket counter without a pause in his step. He set down the suitcases and peeled off a few bills from the bundle he withdrew from his pocket. He asked for two tickets in a language she didn’t recognize. The short, balding clerk quickly processed their request and slid two tickets across the counter, along with a key ring.
As he returned the money, key ring, and tickets to his pocket, Anca’s eyes caught the money clip around the wad of bills. It was gold, etched with intricate swirls. A tear-shaped ruby gleamed in the center of the clip, cupped by two hands etched from gold. She reached out to touch it. “It’s beautiful.”
He slipped the clip in his pocket. “It is the symbol of our country. It represents our Protector shielding the life source of our people.”
A frisson of fear worked its way down her spine, though she had no reason to be afraid of his words. “What is the life source?” Life source sounded so…ominous.
Demi hesitated. Finally, he shrugged. “I don’t remember what the ruby represents. The symbol is as old as Corsova itself.”
She studied him more closely. His eyes slid from hers, and she knew he was lying. Why? “How old is that?”
He shrugged. “Some say as old as time.”
Anca turned when someone spoke sharply behind them. The man seemed irritated with them, and she realized they were blocking the line.
After lifting their bags, Demi voiced a soft apology to the impatient customer, and they moved deeper into the station.
She stayed near him, feeling overwhelmed by the odd similarities and striking differences between Gara Constanta and Grand Central Station. “When does our train leave?”
“Twenty minutes.” He walked without hesitation through the station, leading her to the right platform.
Anca followed him onto the train, and they moved through four passenger cars before entering a car with doors on each side of the corridor, but no open seating. Her stomach clenched as he began reading the numbers. Had he booked them into a private compartment?
They moved through two more cars before he stopped before a door marked 15. “This is our compartment.”
She cleared her throat. “Ours?”
He turned to her, quirking his brow. “Is there a problem?”
She licked her lips nervously. Anca was unable to say she didn’t want to be confined to close quarters with him. “It seems like an extravagance, is all. We’ll only be on the train for…” She trailed off, not able to finish her statement without knowing how long the journey was.
“You can spend the next two hours resting, Anca. It’s nicer to travel in a quiet compartment than amid the masses.” He put down the case in his left arm and fished the key from his pocket. He opened the door and stepped back, indicating she should precede him.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and stepped into the private compartment. Anca flipped on the light and grimaced. It was as small as she had feared. A small table and two chairs, positioned near the sole window, were bolted to the floor. A loveseat was near the table, and there was a low shelf she assumed was supposed to pass for a bunk built into the wall below an overhead luggage rack. The bunk was barely big enough for one.
She moved aside so Demi could enter. He brushed against her side with his stomach, and her flesh suddenly seemed hypersensitive. She imagined she could feel the warmth emanating from his skin through her shirt. “It’s cozy,” she said with forced cheerfulness.
He didn’t bother to respond as he stacked their luggage on the rack. His expression was inscrutable when he turned back to face her. “Would you like to accompany me for a drink?”
She shook her head. “I’m tired.” She ignored the twinges of hunger in her stomach and pasted on a smile. “I think I’ll lie down for a while.”
He walked to the door.
Anca frowned when she realized he wasn’t going to say anything. For some reason, that irked her. It must be too much effort to try to convince her, or ask if she would rather eat than drink. After all, he’d been the one to suggest they eat on the train, when they could have stopped at that McDonald’s they passed on the way. She glared at his departing back, but jumped with surprise when he whirled around.
She attempted to smooth her expression into one more innocent as he stood there staring at her, without speaking. She cleared her throat to break the thick silence. “Yes?”
“I have the key, so I will let myself in.”
She nodded.
“Don’t let in anyone else. I’ll deal with the ticket agent so he doesn’t disturb you.”
Her eyebrows felt as if they rose of their own accord. “Um, okay.” Who else would come into their car?
He nodded briskly and turned away to open the door. He stepped through and closed it behind himself. The sound of the key turning in the lock followed his departure.
Anca paced the confines of the private compartment, frowning at his strange edict. She went over his words in her mind several times, but she couldn’t find any reason for his warning.
Her legs seemed to go boneless, and she collapsed onto the narrow bunk. What if the people her mother had protected her from were still after her? Was she putting herself in danger by going into Corsova? Did someone still think she was a threat?
If she hadn’t been so afraid, the idea would have been laughable. She could assure anyone who might be worried that she wanted no part of her father’s wealth or status. And, surely, he must have both, if someone had tried to harm his heir.
The people she knew had no need to protect their heirs from scheming machinations and attempted assassinations. Betsy at the beauty shop couldn’t care less who took over her lease when she retired, and no one would challenge Jimmy Phoung for control of his father’s deli when Phoung-Li passed on.
Anca shook her head, unable to imagine herself the heir to anything. In truth, she didn’t want any inheritance from her father. She only wanted to meet him while she still had the chance, and then return to her real life in New York.
Staying in Corsova to follow in his footsteps—or whatever would be required from her—was the last thing she would ever want to do. She would make her father and everyone else realize that during her visit. There wouldn’t be any danger once that realization sank in.
She felt slightly more in control once she had a plan in mind. If everyone in Corsova were as commanding as Demi, Anca knew she would have to be firm, but she could do that. After all, she was a businessperson and knew how to stick to a plan until she reached a goal.
In this case, her goal was to leave Corsova without losing her life or her heart. She sensed Demi was more dangerous to the latter than any power-hungry schemers could be to the former.
A wave of tiredness swept over Anca, and she yawned. The narrow bunk seemed more appealing than it had a few minutes ago, and she stretched out on it. It wasn’t as uncomfortable as it looked. The s
waying motion of the train, coupled with the rhythmic sound of the wheels on the track, soon lulled her to sleep.
The night sky was a black canvas, with thousands of stars twinkling overhead. She had never seen anything like it in New York. She could hear the wind blowing softly through the trees. The lone cry of a wolf rose with haunting intensity, before others soon joined in, and their cries echoed down the mountainside. The pack was close, but she felt no fear.
The tumescent moon was nearly full, and it had a strange pinkish cast. Each time her eyes sought it, her heartbeat accelerated. She turned her head at the touch of lips against her wrist.
“Soon, it will be time,” Demi said, and his lips tickled her skin. “In two nights, the moon will be blood-red.”
“Yes.” She knew exactly what he was speaking of, but she couldn’t recall it when she tried to. Her brow furrowed, and she started to ask what they were talking about, but her eyes widened when Demi’s teeth penetrated the skin at her wrist, finding the vein unerringly.
She gasped as the initial pain faded to an intense pleasure. Anca held her breath, and her eyes closed of their own volition. She was propped on her elbow, lying in a field in the middle of the night, but it didn’t seem strange to her. She opened her eyes to slits and watched the play of emotions on Demi’s face. As his throat worked convulsively, swallowing her blood, she laid back on the soft bed of rose bay.
He retracted his fangs and released her wrist as he moved up her body. Her blood smeared his lips, and Anca lifted her head to hasten the meeting of their mouths. Rather than kiss him, she traced her tongue across his lips, licking away the traces of her blood. The flavor was pungent and coppery, but with an underlying sweetness that made her yearn for more.
Demi had been sprawled beside her, but now he broke away and rolled over to straddle her. He braced his hands on the ground, bracketing her head, and he leaned forward to kiss her. His cock pressed into the softness of her stomach, and her pussy flooded with desire.
Anca tilted her head, offering her neck for his possession, but he ignored the temptation. Instead, his lips parted hers gently, and his tongue ventured inside to explore her moist depths. She groaned low in her throat as his tongue slid across hers. She tried to trap it between her tongue and cheek, and he chuckled into her mouth.
His tongue retreated, and he eased his weight down on her more fully. As Demi’s face burrowed into the bend of her neck, one of his hands squeezed her breast. He rubbed a nipple between his fingers, causing the sensitive nub to harden at his expert touch.
His other hand traveled down her side, exploring her ribs, pausing to span her waist, before moving past her hip, and sliding along her thigh.
Anca stiffened as he sought out her pussy. He was going too slowly. She longed to feel his cock inside her, and anticipation had her gyrating her hips impatiently.
He chuckled again as he stroked her swollen pussy lips, wet with her own dew, but he didn’t venture between them.
She grunted and arched her hips, demanding without words that he fulfill his unspoken promise.
Demi’s breath was hot against her neck when he said, “So impatient.”
She tangled her hands in his hair, urging his mouth closer to her neck as she arched her hips. “Please,” she whispered.
“I live to serve you,” he said with a trace of gentle mockery. Seconds later, his fangs penetrated the vein at her neck at the same time his fingers slid inside her pussy and sought out her twitching clit. He found her wet and ready, and she gave voice to her passion…
“Anca!”
Her eyes snapped open, and she expelled a harsh breath. Demi’s face was inches from her own, and she first thought she was still in the dream. Her pussy was wet and aching, and her nipples were hard. It was only when she realized his expression was concerned, rather than passionate, that Anca knew she wasn’t dreaming. “What?” she managed to ask in a dry voice.
“You were dreaming. I heard you groan, and then you cried out.” Demi removed his hands from her shoulders, where he had apparently been shaking her to get her to awaken. “Were you having a nightmare?”
Anca shook her head and let that be her answer. She remembered every aspect of the dream as clearly as if she had really experienced it. She wasn’t telling Demi any of the details.
“I’ve brought you food—“
As he spoke, the train went around a sharp bend, and he fell forward. He landed across her body, and the full weight of his arousal pressed against her thigh.
Anca’s eyes widened when she felt his cock against her. Hesitantly, she met his eyes and saw they had darkened. Flecks of silver seemed to glow around his pupils. The vein in his temple throbbed visibly, in time with the throbbing of his cock. He was clearly aroused. Had he seen her dream?
She tried to shove away that disconcerting thought. Anca cleared her throat. “You said something about food?”
A dull red seeped into his cheeks, and he scrambled off her. “Er, yes. I knew you were hungry.” He glanced at his watch, and the action held a hint of stiffness, as though he was desperate to avoid her eyes. “You’ve been asleep for more than an hour. You should have enough time to eat and freshen up before we arrive in Bulgainia.”
Anca was determined to ignore her state of arousal, so she struggled to convince herself that her nipples weren’t still hard and aching. He couldn’t possibly see them through the cotton of her shirt. Even if he could, well…she couldn’t do anything about it.
She put on her most professional face, the one reserved for dealing with suppliers and testy customers, and swung her legs off the bunk. She saw a tray on the table by the window and stood up.
Anca swayed as the train rocked under her. When Demi reached out a hand to steady her, she smiled at him. “Thank you. I’m not accustomed to train travel.” Despite being a native New Yorker, she had seldom used Grand Central Station for transportation, other than to board the subways.
His hand was slow to drop away. “Of course.”
Anca allowed her feet to fall into the rhythm of the train, and it wasn’t as erratic as she had expected. She made her way to the table and dropped into a chair. She looked up to see Demi standing uncertainly in the center of the car. “Will you join me?”
He nodded and came to sit with her, after pausing to turn on the lamp bolted to the wall. The sun was hanging low in the sky, and shadows filled the compartment, until the dim illumination chased them away.
Anca stared at the food on the plate. There was a covered plate and bowl, and a carafe with a solid-looking crystal glass turned upside down beside it. She turned over the glass and filled it with a rich reddish-brown liquid from the carafe. She brought it to her nose and sniffed experimentally. It smelled acrid and sweet, with a hint of fruitiness. “What is this?”
“Tuica. It’s a locally brewed plum brandy. If you don’t like it, I’ll fetch you something else.”
She sipped it cautiously, prepared for it to overwhelm her. Her limited experiences with foreign alcohols—Guinness and ouzo—hadn’t led her to expect otherwise. Anca was surprised to find the flavor was crisp and refreshing, and the mouthful went down smoothly.
Next, she lifted the lid from the bowl and found some kind of soup with a dollop of sour cream on it. She swirled her spoon through the broth, seeing onions, carrots, zucchini, and dough balls. “And this, Demi?”
“Bors de dovlecei. It’s sour soup with zucchini.”
She nodded. Again, with caution, she took a spoonful and tasted it. She couldn’t hide her grimace. Once she had swallowed it, Anca laid her spoon on the tray and covered the bowl.
She lifted the cover from the plate and was relieved to find the food semi-recognizable. She used her fork to indicate the vegetable dish. “I know this is eggplant, though I haven’t seen it served this way.”
“It’s baked with garlic.”
She nodded, moving her fork to the rolls that looked like miniature green burritos. “I’m not quite sure about this.”
“Sarmale with vegetables and Mititei.”
She smiled at him. “Translation, please?”
Demi chuckled, and the sound reminded her of the dream. “Romanian sausage and vegetables, wrapped with cabbage leaves. Sarmale is peppers or cabbage stuffed with anything.”
Anca took a bite of the eggplant and closed her eyes with pleasure. It seemed to melt on her tongue, while the tang of garlic reinforced the more delicate seasonings. The sarmale was equally delicious, and she made short work of the meal, not even pausing for conversation. He seemed content to watch her, and she found his eyes constantly on her to be comforting instead of disconcerting.
When Anca pushed away her tray with a sigh, she said, “Thank you. I wouldn’t have known what to order.”
Demi inclined his head. “I live to serve you.”
She jerked at the unexpected phrase, echoed from her dream. “What?” she demanded stridently.
He frowned. “Have I offended you?”
She crinkled the napkin still on her lap with her fingers. “What made you say that?”
Demi shrugged. “It’s a common phrase in my country. People have been using it for thousands of years, in response to requests from the royal family.”
Anca sighed with relief. He hadn’t been mocking her dream. She must be losing her mind if she really believed he had somehow eavesdropped on the images parading through her brain during her nap. “I see…” She trailed off. “Do you work for the royal family?”
He hesitated, and then nodded. “In a manner of speaking. The king fostered me as a child. I have been,” his brow wrinkled, as if he was searching for a way to explain, “adopted into the family, I guess you could say.”
Anca nodded. “It must be a habit, huh?”
Demi looked confused. “Pardon, Anca?”
“To use that phrase.” She grinned at him. “I’ll have to remember it if we see any royalty during my visit.”
His eyes widened, and he blinked several times. His mouth opened and closed, and he took a deep breath. Demi cleared his throat. “There has been confusion, I think.”