by Morgan Hawke
He whispered. “Did I scare you?”
Her eyes dropped to his lips. They were barely inches away from hers. His lips bowed into a smile. She felt her breath hitch in reaction and the tender itch of her nipples tightening. Her rebellious body pulsed with damp warmth. She found herself frozen in place, focusing on the curve of his full lips. He’s way too cute when he smiles, and way, way too close…
“Uh…” Rowan leaned away and struggled to focus her thoughts. How the Hell am I going to survive staying this excited around him? She wiped her damp palms on her jeans. “Do you mind?” she bit out. “You’re a little close.”
Rick took an obliging step back and Rowan let out a relieved breath. Wait a minute. Did he ask me a question? Oh, right. The garage. “I parked out here because I can’t open the garage myself.”
His tilted his head slightly, the smile still on his lips. His eyes reflected the floodlights cast on the house and glowed like green-gold coins. “I can open it for you.”
She raised her eyes to his in challenge. “And if you are somehow, incapacitated?” She tilted her head toward the house.
He glanced at the house and the eerie glow in his eyes disappeared. “Good point.” Rick’s face tightened into taut lines. “Speaking of incapacitated, if you need to get out, there’s a box on the post of the property gates. Punch in thirteen-thirteen to open the gates.”
Rowan blinked at him in surprise. “Thanks.”
“Sure.” He smiled wryly. “So, what do you think of the house I built?”
“You built it?”
He nodded. “Back in the forties when I first came to the ‘States. I’m an architect.”
Rowan looked at the sharp angles the defined his home. It’s ugly. She bit her lip. “It’s very modern,” she offered.
He crossed his arms over his chest then snorted. “You hate it.” He raised a brow, daring her to deny it.
Rowan looked at him helplessly, he was right, she did hate it. “Well, it’s very different.” She raised a brow. He looked doubtful, so she tried again. “It’s um, very—angular.”
He swiped a hand across his temple then shook his head. “Don’t worry, I have yet to meet a single female that liked it on sight.” He grinned broadly. “The interior is another whole story.”
Rowan’s mouth fell open. “You bring girls here? Isn’t that kinda dangerous? What if your dinner dates remember where you um, took them?”
Rick laughed out loud. “I’m a well-known architect, a house designer; I have to throw the occasional house party for the clients. My dinner dates, as you put it, happen out of town.” He shook his head and grinned. “I’ll ask again once I get you inside.”
Rowan found herself focusing on his mouth again. Damn it—get a grip on yourself! She took a deep, calming breath. Oops, mistake to breathe in…The scent of clean and potent male laced with an undertone of warm earth washed across her senses. Her belly clenched hungrily.
“By the way, how much time do you need to be ready to do your, um…” He wiggled his fingers. “What ever?”
Rowan jerked her eyes from his mouth back up to his eyes with a stab of shame. “Um, give me a minute to get a few things.” She turned abruptly to rummage in her bag, looking for what she needed. Me and my runaway libido, she thought in chagrin. Get your mind out of the gutter girl. I don’t care if he’s a great kisser; he’s also a vampire.
Taking a steadying breath, Rowan began pulling things from her satchel and making a small pile. There was a small, cloth bag of salt, a small box of colored chalks, a bottle of blessed water, a handful of incense, her ritual dagger, a fresh sprig of holly wrapped in thick cotton and a pair of white candles wrapped in silk...
“How long will it take?” He watched curiously while she pulled item after item from the satchel.
“The casting? About an hour.” She turned her head to glance at him. “Do you have a working fireplace?”
He nodded. “Yeah, there’s one in just about every room.”
“Is there one somewhere near the center of the house?” Her fingers busily sorted through the myriad cloth packets.
“There’s one in the living room that opens onto the main dining room, too.”
“Good. A fire in the center hearth will cut down on the time it takes me to, um, complete this.” Rowan turned back to her items and stuffed small bags of her spell ingredients into her oversized red velvet bag. “How fast can you build a fire?”
“Damn fast.”
“Excellent.” She smiled grimly and tucked the last item in her bag. “Once we get inside, I’ll need you to get a fire lit as fast as you can.” She closed the trunk decisively then went over her bag’s inventory. I’m pretty sure that this is everything I need, she thought. Either I have it all or I can make do with what I have. Taking a deep breath, she turned to face Rick. “Okay, lets go.”
“All right.” He nodded and Rowan could see the muscle in his cheek tense. He turned and strode across the grass, headed for the door on the back porch.
Rowan gripped her bag and trudged through the damp grass after him.
His long strides carried him to the top of the porch steps where he turned and waited for her. The top half of the whitewashed back door was windowed and showed nothing but darkness.
She climbed the steps to the door and he grabbed her wrist. She jumped and looked up at him. He’s so damn fast… Tension threaded with sharp fear vibrated across her senses from his hold. Rowan stared up at the vampire. Goddess, he’s terrified. What the Hell is he putting me up against?
“Rowan.” His voice was soft and deadly serious. “I want you to promise me that you will take no chances. If things go bad, I want you to swear that you’ll do whatever you need to, to get the Hell out and gone.”
“What about you?” she asked softly.
He smiled grimly. “Thanks for the concern, but I’ll survive.” He jerked his head toward the house. “He wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t after something. I doubt he’ll kill me until he gets whatever it is.” His eyes narrowed and his grip tightened. “I mean it, promise me that if something happens, you’ll get out, by whatever means necessary.”
She nodded solemnly. “I promise.”
He nodded grimly and pushed open the porch door. Light from the outside striped a heavy oak door that led into the house. He took two steps and she heard a door being unlocked then opened. Rick disappeared into the shadows.
Rowan stood in the doorway, blinded by the deep blackness. There was the click of a switch and light flooded a broad kitchen gleaming with chrome. She gained the impression of white walls with smoked glass cabinets, and a large glass and chrome kitchen table. She stepped across the threshold into the house proper.
An oppressive breeze of ominous power suddenly slithered across her skin and she gasped in alarm. Her body ignited and radiated with intense blue light. Her bound hair floated up around her shoulders on the wave of brightness. Rowan squinted against the blazing glare that filled the room. She turned to see Rick standing by the sink and well within her pool of light. He looked at her in astonishment, completely bathed in her light. He looked at his hands, rubbed his arm, grinned, then shrugged. Oh, shit, the radiance isn’t working on him.
“What have you brought to this house?” someone whispered in a voice that echoed with age.
Rowan gained the impression of deep black forests and endless killing snow but saw no one.
“Just a friend,” Rick said in a conversational tone of voice. He waved her to come in.
She bit her lip and took a step deeper into the house. I hope I’m not about to get killed.
Rick walked across the kitchen toward a doorway leading to a darkened hall. He turned and silently waved at her to follow.
She shouldered her bag and walked carefully across the black and white tiled kitchen floor. She stopped cold on the threshold. The hallway was black with menacing shadows.
The shimmer of dark power retreated sharply. “Make it leave,” the voice whisp
ered from further away. “Make it leave now.” The voice was fading fast.
Rowan smiled grimly. Hot damn, the radiance seems to be working just fine on the other vampire…
“But she’s my friend.” Rick switched on a line of electric lamps in chrome sconces with amber globes, mounted on the wall very close to the ceiling. The warm amber glow illuminated a narrow hallway papered in vanilla white. The floor was a deep black, highly polished wood.
Rick beckoned her to follow him then turned down the hallway. “Why should I make her leave?”
Rowan walked cautiously through the heart of the house and her boot heels thumped on the wood floor. She followed him past a broad staircase with an elegantly curved marble banister.
Rick took a sudden left turn past the stairs into a bookshelf-lined and windowless study. There was a huge ultra-modern glass and chrome desk on an ornate carpet in the center.
Rowan stepped into the room and her heels clicked oddly. She looked down. This floor looks like ...marble?
Rick took a right and went up two steps into an enormous room. The walls were papered in bone white, with an ornate, deep-piled oriental rug in vivid jewel tones spread across the polished black floor. A brass and deep red velvet couch and a pair of matching squashy velvet chairs occupied corners of the room with small, fragile glass tables set with tiny, bubble-shaped lamps.
She found Rick kneeling before a round, almost egg-like white marble fireplace big enough to stand in. He held his hands out to the fireplace. There was a soft whomp and the wood laid in the iron grate burst into flame.
Rowan blinked. Whoa, he wasn’t kidding when he said he could light a fire fast. She raised a brow at him. “Tell me again that you’re not magical,” she whispered.
He made a wry face and backed away from the hearth. “Gas fire with an electric starter.”
“Sure, right...” Rowan yanked off her jacket then dropped it and her bag in a chair sitting by the fire. She dug in her bag and pulled out her black-handled dagger and some small packets of herbs. The runes carved deeply into the hilt felt reassuringly rough against her palm. She narrowed her eyes and concentrated. The blade began to glow with blue-white light. With a flourish of the blade, she began her incantation.
“A ved’ma,” said the echoing invisible presence.
Rowan glanced at Rick. “A what?”
Rick looked over at Rowan with a grim smile. “It’s Russian for Witch,” he said softly. “Yes.” Rick said louder. “She is a witch.”
Rowan felt rather than heard a scream of fury that abruptly dissipated. The oppressive power shredded and unraveled around her. The glow of her skin died down to barely a glimmer.
“I don’t know how much time we have, but I think he’s gone.” Rick turned to Rowan. “It’s now or never.”
“Have a seat, I’m driving,” Rowan said with a tight smile. She yanked the band from her bound hair and flung it on the floor. Her red-gold mane fell in thick waves to her hips. She toed off her shoes and stood barefoot in front of the round fireplace.
Rick dropped into one of the chairs by the fireplace. Rowan turned to face the huge fire. Carelessly, she tossed three small packets of herbs on the fire, bag and all. Thick, richly scented white smoke drifted from the hearth, then swelled and flowed across the high ceiling. She pointed her glowing dagger at the fire. In a strong, clear voice, she began chanting.
* * *
Rick sat very still while Rowan continued to work her magic. Covertly he glanced at his wristwatch. Twenty agonizingly long minutes had passed.
Abruptly the fire’s flames turned a bright green. A bell sounded, but Rowan’s hands held only her dagger. She turned away from the fire and flung her arms outward. Her eyes went solid, glowing green and her hair floated up on a wave of power. Her chanting voice suddenly swelled, echoing and vibrating as though she spoke in a vast, empty hall.
Rick sat up in his chair. Okay, now I’m impressed...
A wave of green light rippled from the fire in a broad ring and spread across the floor at knee level. The wave slid through Rowan’s body as though it was made of mist, then shimmered through him. He shuddered, the hair on his body rising in reaction. The ring continued on and passed through the walls behind him as though they weren’t there.
The fire suddenly went out as though smothered, leaving the room in deep shadow.
* * *
“It is done,” Rowan said and lowered her dagger. Exhaustion and nerves shivered through her. She took a harsh breath. “How about turning on some lights.”
Rick stood up from the chair and flicked on a lamp. “I hope this works ‘cause I can feel Klaus coming in fast.”
“What?” Rowan turned to look at the vampire in shock. Her senses fanned out and she felt the approach of malevolence sliding past the border of her spell. “Something’s wrong,” she said through gritted teeth. “He shouldn’t be able to cross the property line.”
“I guess it didn’t work,” Rick said sourly.
“Damn it!” Rowan felt a gathering of force collect in the furthest corner of the room. There was a chittering vibration of laughter that was more of a feeling than a sound. Darkness pooled and stretched upward. She gasped softly and pointed her dagger at the menacing darkness. A shimmer of power slid across her skin and she erupted with dim light. I must be tired. This isn’t much of a glow. The dagger began to glow with concentrated and brilliant blue fire. On second thought…
The chittering laughter intensified and the mass of darkness seemed to gather in on itself as though hunching over. She felt the sound suddenly die away as though to take a breath. Abruptly the darkness unfolded upward in the darkest corner of the room. It coalesced, then solidified. Suddenly, Rowan was staring at an over-tall and excruciatingly slender man. He was dressed in long, tattered robes that appeared to be made of semi-solid darkness rather than fabric. Long, dark hair began in a deep point on a high brow, parted over sharply elongated and pointed ears, then slid past broad, bony shoulders like dripping smoke.
The face turned into the light cast from Rowan’s skin. Over-large eyes of solid crimson under crooked brows regarded her with menace over a bladed nose. The jaw was clean-shaven and slightly out of proportion. The man smiled impossibly wide, showing far too many teeth and all of them filed to sharp points.
“Ved’ma,” it whispered.
“Dear Lady,” Rowan whispered in shock. A buzz, like an electrical charge, shivered through her arm then raced down into her dagger. The glow of her ceremonial dagger abruptly brightened, intensified and lengthened. What the Hell?
Rowan found herself pointing a blade of concentrated blue light that extended at least three feet from the dagger’s tip, then stopped as though it had been cut off. Her brows rose in surprise. “Use the force, Luke,” she quoted with grim humor.
Rick shifted closer to Rowan. “Rowan, this is Klaus. Klaus, this is my friend Rowan.”
“Her light…” Klaus winced at her glare and turned his head. He raised a slender, clawed hand to shade his eyes. He stepped back into deeper shadow and stared at Rick. “She does not burn you?”
Rick shook his head. “It’s a little bright, but no, I don’t feel a thing.”
“I smell…” Klaus raised his chin and took a deep breath. His nostrils flared, like a dog scenting the air. His white-less ruby eyes shifted to Rowan. “I smell spellwork.” He shifted his gaze to Rick and his lips curled back, showing far too many serrated teeth. “Youngling…” Klaus’s brows swooped down over his burning eyes. “What have you done?”
Rick opened his eyes very wide. “Who, me?”
Rowan’s temper got the better of her. “It’s a barrier to keep out intruders.” Rick’s hand dropped on her shoulder and squeezed in warning.
Klaus’s brows winged upward. “I see.” He nodded gravely then smiled sharply and fleetingly at Rick. “Perhaps there is wisdom in you after all.”
Rick glanced at Rowan. She shrugged in reply.
Klaus regarded Rowan curio
usly. “So, this ved’ma is your woman?”
With lightning fast reflexes, Rick covered Rowan’s mouth. “Yes, she’s mine.”
Rowan grabbed his wrist. She tugged at his arm but his hand was immovable. What the Hell does he mean, I’m his woman?
“I see.” Klaus tilted his head to one side with another fleeting smile. “Very well then, I will leave you to your pleasures.” He nodded, then stepped back and faded into shadow.
Rowan felt Klaus’s presence dissipate completely from the room. Abruptly the glowing sword of light went out along with the shimmer under her skin. Rick released her mouth. She shot him a glare then exhaustion hammered her between the eyes. She pressed her fingers to her throbbing temples and barely reached the chair before she collapsed. She heard the dagger hit the rug.
“Hey, are you all right?”
Rowan opened her eyes and blinked. Rick was leaning over her, and she was propped up in the chair with her red velvet bag jammed uncomfortably in her back. “I’m okay.” She struggled to dig her bag from her back and sit up. “Too much magic, I guess.” Shimmering on the edge of her senses, she felt Klaus somewhere at the top of the house. “He’s in the attic, I think,” she said softly.
Rick looked up at the ceiling and choked out a harsh laugh. “There’s a TV up in the loft at the highest point in the house, That’s where he usually stays.”
Rowan blinked. “He watches TV?” She leaned over, picked up her fallen dagger then tucked it into the bag jammed in next to her.
Rick bit his lip and shrugged. “I don’t think he’s ever seen cable before.”
She frowned at him furiously. “I’m your woman? Just what the Hell are you trying to prove?”
“Sorry, about that.” Rick stared at her grimly. “I wanted him to know that you were off limits.” He rolled his eyes ruefully. “It was the easiest way to get my point across.” He stood up and offered her his hand. “Come on.”
Rowan took his hand and used it to lever herself from the chair. “Where are we going?” She wavered on wobbly legs.