by Kit Tunstall
She nodded. His demeanor brooked no argument, and his fear transmitted itself to her.
He cursed softly as he stepped back through the bedroom and strode to her, pulling her into his arms to press a kiss to her mouth. When he lifted his head, his eyes caught hers. “I don’t want to leave you, but it isn’t safe to take you with me.”
“I know.” She forced her arms to let go of him and made her legs take a step back. “I’ll be waiting.” He nodded once more and left, this time without hesitating.
She watched him go, biting on her tongue to beg him not to leave. She didn’t understand why Koss tormented Nicholas, but she was terrified the other man would hurt him tonight. The sooner he was back, the sooner she could relax. The time would drag until his return, and she knew her thoughts would insist on imagining various tortures Koss might inflict upon him.
* * * * *
After slipping on a light blue shirt from Nicholas’s closet and rolling up the sleeves, Emily walked down the hall to return to the living room. She found Tremont in the kitchen and let out a startled gasp. She clutched her chest, trying to slow her racing heart.
He frowned. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head, panting to catch her breath. “I thought you’d gone with Nicholas. I was startled.”
Tremont gave a lopsided shrug. “I don’t always accompany the master. There can be…awkward questions. He asked me to stay with you tonight.”
She smiled when she noticed he was making hot cocoa from scratch. “My mother used to make cocoa when I was sick, but that was years ago.”
“If you would like to sit in the living room, I’ll bring it through directly.”
She turned and walked into the living room, curling up on the burgundy sofa. A blush swept through her cheeks when she saw her blouse neatly folded on the coffee table. Tremont obviously knew what they had been doing. Her lips twisted into a tiny smile as she glanced down at Nicholas’s too-large shirt covering her. If Tremont hadn’t figured it out by seeing her in Nicholas’s room, her wearing his shirt was another clue. She leaned back and tried to pretend it didn’t embarrass her. Tremont didn’t seem bothered by the knowledge, and Nicholas certainly wasn’t. She simply had to be more adult about the situation.
Emily was surprised at her ease of fighting back a flush when Tremont carried in the tray of cocoa and gingersnaps. She blinked back tears as a memory of sitting in bed and drinking cocoa with her mother flashed through her mind. She cleared her throat, reminding herself those times were over. “Thank you.”
He inclined his head. “It is my pleasure, Miss Emily.”
She sighed at his insistence of using “Miss” in front of her name, but knew he wouldn’t change his mind. After using her given name just once, he had taken to addressing her as Miss Emily. At least it wasn’t Mistress.
“If there’s nothing else, I’ll retire to my room.”
“If I need anything, I can get it.”
He looked scandalized. “It is my job to see to your needs.”
She chose not to answer. Instead, she lifted the mug of cocoa and sipped it through the layer of whipped cream. “Delicious. Thank you.”
He nodded and left her without another word.
When he was gone, Emily sat on the sofa, wondering what she would do with herself. A few weeks ago, she might have watched a TV program, but didn’t think any would keep her attention now. Still, it was background noise to blot out her thoughts. She didn’t want to dwell on what Nicholas was doing right then, nor think about how things had changed between them tonight. However tacitly, she had accepted her new future. Even though they hadn’t made love, there was no going back now.
She still didn’t know how she felt about that. Being close to Nicholas was intoxicating, exciting and dangerous. Her old life had been safe and predictable. She had known exactly where it would lead her, at least through college. She wasn’t ready to embrace the new enthusiastically, and couldn’t quite turn her back on the old. She was in limbo, trapped between her choices.
Emily sighed deeply. Her weighty thoughts made no difference. No matter what course of action she decided on—if she could manage to choose one—she knew she would react to Nicholas, not act. She didn’t seem capable of rational thought around him. Was that because her actions had already been predetermined by fate, or simply because she reacted so strongly to him as a man?
She sighed again as she reached for the remote. She was determined to clear her mind and tried to concentrate on a drama she vaguely recognized.
She must have had limited success in focusing her attention on the attorneys’ plight, because the doorbell ringing caught her by surprise. She sloshed the remains of her cocoa down the side of the cup and stained the hem of Nicholas’s shirt. With a muttered curse under her breath, she stood up and put the cup on the tray before lifting and carrying the serving dish from the living room.
The doorbell rang again as she entered the kitchen. She put the tray on the counter and turned to the front door. As Tremont appeared in the hallway and walked to the door, Emily froze. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and her stomach churned with nausea. As he reached the door, she said, “No, don’t open it.”
Tremont looked back at her with an expression of surprise. “But Miss Emily—”
She shook her head, struggling to remember something Nicholas had said. Her eyes widened. “Nicholas shielded the apartment before he left. How is someone at the door?”
Tremont’s hand fell from the door, and he rushed toward her as fast as his squat legs would carry him. “Run to the fire escape, out the kitchen window.” He fumbled in his pocket and withdrew a cell phone. “I’ll call the master—”
Before Tremont finished the sentence, the door started shuddering. The wood groaned, and the door rattled in the frame. With a screech of protest, it tore free from its hinges and slammed against the wall of the entryway.
Emily’s feet froze to the spot as Tremont placed himself in front of her. He was trembling badly, and the phone fell from his hand to the floor. She wanted to push him aside, but couldn’t seem to move.
Seconds after the door opened so forcibly, four people stepped through the doorway. There were two men and one woman standing in front of another. He was taller than the others, but by a trick of the light, or his own powers, shadows obscured his face.
The two men in front of him were a study in contrast, except for their nearly identical jeans and dark coats. One had blond hair, with icy gray eyes. He looked to be in his late forties, on the chubby side. The younger man was dark—Hispanic or Mediterranean—with black hair, olive skin and smoldering dark eyes. He was short and slight, but held himself in way that suggested he was more than capable of handling any situation.
The woman’s hair was as dark as the short man’s, but her features were completely different. Her skin had a golden tinge to it, and she had oddly shaped amber eyes. Only a tiny sliver of sclera showed on either side of her large irises. She wore a flowing red dress topped with a black bolero jacket. She looked like she was all dressed up with no place to go, and her planned outing had been more than a hundred years ago.
Emily’s paralysis broke as the man hidden behind them moved to the front of the group. The others stepped aside for him with the same gracefulness inherent in Nicholas’s movements. She guessed they were all vampires, and all older than she. With a muted cry, she turned to run, desperate to avoid meeting Koss face-to-face. She had no doubt it was he approaching her.
“Halt a moment, Emily.” He spoke with a rich baritone, and it held a trace of an accent she didn’t recognize.
As he spoke, her limbs turned to stone. She couldn’t move, no matter how she struggled to lift her feet. She couldn’t even wiggle her fingers. The only part of her still responding to her brain’s commands was her eyes. They darted around the room, searching for escape.
When Koss walked toward her, the light in the hallway revealed him more clearly. He was shorter than Nichola
s, but muscular, giving him a solid presence. He had bronze skin, dark eyes and black hair, shaved close to his skull. His nose was a large beak, and his lips were thin. She searched for the perfect way to describe him, but the only word that came to mind was foreign. There was something alien about him.
As he stopped a few feet from her, she gasped and was surprised when her body cooperated to make the sound. Even her tongue seemed frozen. The cause of her shocked gasp was the scar on his face. It was cross-shaped, but decorative like an ankh. The scar was ragged, with knots of white flesh on faded pink skin. It was obviously old, but it hadn’t disappeared. He must have been marked before his transformation to a vampire.
Tremont threw himself in front of Koss. His desperation was clear in the set of his shoulders.
Koss didn’t even pause. He waved his hand, and the diminutive man went flying against the wall. He hit with a loud cracking sound, followed by a cry of pain. Within seconds, the three who had lingered near the door rushed to him, ripping at him.
Emily watched with horror, unable to move, as they tore at Tremont’s clothes and skin. She couldn’t clearly see what they did to him from her angle, but could guess from the sounds he made. He continued to scream with agony as he tried to defend himself. It didn’t take long for them to subdue him and for the screams to fade to silence.
“No one heard him cry out,” Koss said with mock sympathy. “Nicholas did an excellent job of shielding this residence. It was difficult for me to find. His power has increased. He is to be commended.”
She glared at him, still unable to speak or move. As distressing as was the sound of the three feeding on Tremont’s remains, this man’s gaze was infinitely more disturbing. She tore her eyes from his, pointedly averting them from the eager sounds issuing from the pack of animals consuming their meal.
“Do they sicken you, Emily?” A cold smile flashed across his face. “Surely, you felt no fondness for Tremont after what he did to you?”
She refused to look at him.
He crooked his finger. “Look at me.”
Her frozen muscles loosened, and her neck turned so she was facing him. Emily squeezed her eyes shut, praying for the strength to avoid his gaze.
He chuckled. “You’re strong for a young one.” Koss’s voice dropped to a whisper. “But not strong enough to resist my commands. I could make you scream as loudly as Tremont.”
“I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction,” she bit out, shocked to be able to speak.
He laughed again. “There are more efficient ways, dear, and I want you fresh for the night’s activities.”
She held her breath when he walked up to her, stopping less than an inch from touching her. She swayed as a roaring filled her ears, and her eyes popped open of their own volition when he touched her cheek. She whimpered as she found her gaze locking with his.
“Do you recognize me yet? We’ve met before.” He caressed her cheek. “Remember, dear? Do you have that sense of déjà vu yet, like we’ve done this all before?”
His soothing tone was seductive, and his eyes were like whirlpools, sucking her in. Emily felt her consciousness flowing from her into him, but couldn’t break eye contact. She tried to resist as her body relaxed, but was unable to stand upright. As she crashed into his arms, blackness overwhelmed her, and a dream violently overwhelmed her.
1831, England (Vallsade Manor)
Erin blinked back tears and tried to give her husband a brave smile. “It is only three nights, Nicholas.”
He caressed her cheek, pushing back her blonde hair. “I hate to leave you for three minutes, beloved.” His other hand cupped her distended stomach. “With the birth so close…”
She shook her head. “More than a month, love. You will return in plenty of time.”
Nicholas sighed. “I do not want to leave you. What difference will my vote make?”
She felt a flutter of panic and struggled to suppress it. She knew Nicholas must leave. “As long as the Tories are so vehemently opposed to the Reform Act, even one Whig vote might make all the difference. Your party needs your voice. The people need you.”
He sighed again. “I know you are right, but I have not spent one night away from you in eighteen years.”
She smoothed the full skirt of her loose dress and managed to avoid his eyes. “I will be here when you return.” She nearly broke down sobbing, but somehow found the strength to continue her pretense. She must protect Nicholas. With a tilted chin, she met his gaze. “All will be well.”
Nicholas nodded briskly and took the reins Tremont extended for him. Unmindful of the staff milling about the courtyard of the manor, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply. When he reluctantly pulled away, he said, “I shall think of you every moment.”
She nodded, unable to respond for the lump of moisture in her throat. She touched his cheek. “Travel carefully, my love,” she managed to choke out hoarsely.
He mounted the chestnut stallion as Tremont scrambled into the saddle of a tame gray gelding. Nicholas lifted his arm in a wave before turning the horse toward the lowered drawbridge.
Erin drank in the sight of her handsome husband astride his horse as he galloped out of her sight. When he had reached the end of the path, where it turned a bend, and he was no longer visible, she squeezed shut her eyes. She wanted to savor her last glimpse of him. It would feel like an eternity before they were reunited.
As she had dreamed countless times, a disturbance woke her early in the morning. Erin was surprised to have slept at all, with knowing what was coming. She grasped the ornate brass handle of the dagger tucked under her pillow and slid out of the bed that was too large without Nicholas’s presence.
She briefly wondered if she should have told him what would happen tonight, but quickly shook her head, knowing if he had stayed, he would have died too. When Koss came for her, he wouldn’t let anything stand in his way. His obsession with Nicholas was bound to spill over to her at some point. She was an easy way to hurt her husband.
Would it have made a difference if she accompanied him to the townhouse in London? Would that have stopped Koss from carrying out his plan? Would Nicholas have been able to protect her if he came for her anyway, or would he have died with her and took any chance of them being reunited with him?
A sharp pain shot through her stomach, causing her to gasp and bend over at the waist. It reminded her of why she hadn’t gone with him. The pains had bothered her off and on for the last two days, and she knew their daughter was eager to make her appearance. Tears streamed down her cheeks at the thought. It was no solace to know her baby would have life again in the future. She longed to hold her daughter in this life, even though her visions told her that wasn’t to be.
As she lit two of the candles, she heard footsteps on the stairs, and then someone shouting. A cry of pain and the sound of someone tumbling down the stone steps followed the shouting. It sounded like the butler, Eves. If her vision proved correct—as they always did—he would survive the night’s events.
Before she knew it, someone was pounding on her bedchamber door. Erin backed into the shadows of the room and waited for a man she had never met to enter her room to kill her.
She recognized him instantly. He was the third to enter, following Nina, the perfidious bitch, a blond-haired man in his forties and a dark-haired man who kept his face in shadows. The scar on his face was the same she had seen repeatedly in her dreams during the last eighteen years. She didn’t doubt he was Koss.
Erin tensed as he scanned the room, knowing he saw her when his eyes moved in her direction. She struggled not to move, hoping she was wrong, but still twitched when she saw him turn in her direction. Erin pressed the dagger against her leg, hiding it in the voluminous folds of the linen shift. Every vision she’d had showed her attempts to defend against Koss were futile, but she wouldn’t give in without a fight. Not only did she have a child to protect, but she also wanted to be there when Nicholas returned. She had too much to lose
to yield easily to her fate.
Koss chuckled. “You think you can fight me, Erin?”
She swallowed heavily, but didn’t answer.
“Do you think you can hide from me in the corner?” His eyes bored into hers. “I see you.” He crooked his finger in her direction. “Come to me.”
Her feet moved forward against her will. Erin tried to stop walking forward, but couldn’t control her own body. Her hand on the knife loosened, and she bit down hard on her bottom lip. The flash of pain helped collect her thoughts, allowing her to tighten her grip.
He met her halfway. As they stopped before each other, Nina lit the last candle on the bedside table, providing more illumination. The scar on his cheek caught her eyes, and she shuddered.
He nodded, touching it as if by reflex. “It is hideous, is it not?”
She didn’t answer.
Koss’s mouth twisted. “How I came to get it is a long story. Has your husband revealed it?”
She shook her head. In the early days of their marriage, Nicholas rarely spoke of Koss, and hadn’t at all for some years. He seemed to think the other man had finally decided to leave him alone. Erin had never corrected his assumption. If she had told him about her visions of Koss, it would have meant admitting to him that she could see the future. She had kept her secret all these years, fearing he would pressure her for glimpses of the future, and she hadn’t wanted to tell him what she saw. He would have tried to change it, and in doing so, he would have died too. She was certain of that.
Koss spoke again. “That is just as well. He doesn’t know all of the facts.” He laughed as his eyes swung in Nina’s direction, but it was a cold sound, lacking any humor. “It is not a pleasant tale, and better reserved for another time.” A cruel smile slashed his lips. “Then again, your time is limited, is it not, Erin?”
A frisson of fear darted up Erin’s backbone. He committed violence without a second thought. She knew he wouldn’t have mercy for her or the child she carried.