Night's Cold Kiss

by Tracey O'Hara

  Christian looked at her more closely, but said nothing.

  “Then I would sleep better if I knew you were here.” Sergei turned to Christian.

  She did need somewhere to stay—so why not? It was a big house and she did want to hear more about her father from Viktor. She sighed. “Okay, Uncle, I’ll stay.”

  Sergei beamed and nodded to Christian. “Thank you, Christian. She is such a hothead and her brother isn’t here to keep her out of trouble.”

  At the mention of Nici she realized she hadn’t thought of him once during this whole mess. A pang of guilt squeezed her heart.

  “So you didn’t find out anything more from your sources in the Guild?” Christian asked.

  Sergei shook his head. “Now I remember why I distanced myself from them. There are fractures appearing that worry me, and Sir Roger’s murder has caused great upheaval. People are accusing each other of involvement in his death. Factions are jockeying their candidates as his replacement, and I fear it may get worse than it did during The Troubles. Our best hope would be if Lucian accepts the position. But who knows with his injury.”

  Guilt slid cold tendrils into her heart. She’d been so worried over her predicament; she’d forgotten how much worse off Lucian was. “Any change in his condition?”

  Christian slid his hands into his pockets. “He’s in stable condition and under guard at the hospital for the moment.”

  “Well, I’d better go or I’ll miss my flight,” Sergei said.

  “Don’t worry.” Christian stepped forward and shook her uncle’s hand. “We’ll make sure she stays safe.”

  Antoinette hugged her uncle close. She may be pissed with him, but he was still the man who’d been the closest thing to a father she had. As the limo pulled away from the curb, she continued to wave until the car turned the corner and disappeared.

  Christian turned and walked toward the house. Viktor met her at the door and leaned close. “You don’t have to be brave all the time, you know.”

  Christian scowled in their direction before he disappeared into the drawing room.

  “Come on, let’s go for a walk and get a cup of coffee,” Viktor said and wrapped her arm through his and then looked at her, his face breaking into a grin. “Or maybe something a little stronger? And I know the perfect place. Come on.”

  Antoinette thought a cowboy bar was a strange choice, but Viktor seemed to fit right in with blue jeans, black western style shirt, cowboy hat, and snakeskin boots. He even had his hair pulled into a ponytail, giving him more country-boy appeal. A honky-tonk band played in the far corner and a few people were either line dancing or doing the two-step on the open floor. It could have been worse; he’d originally threatened to take her to a karaoke bar.

  “Come on, little lady, I’ll buy ya a drink,” he said in a rather sexy southern drawl, as he took her hand and dragged her to a nearby table.

  Despite herself, she smiled and almost giggled, especially at the hot young thang in a miniskirt and cowboy boots shaking ass past their table. Viktor pushed up his hat, leaned back in his chair, and winked at the universal come-on smile she gave him, then watched her wiggle all the way to the bar.

  The waitress stopped by, chewing gum and pulling a pen from her hair. “What can I git ya, hon.”

  Antoinette didn’t even think. “Lemonade,” she ordered.

  “Scrap that,” Viktor said, still in full southern mode. “We’re celebratin’. Can ya bring her one of them fancy drinks with a little umbrella in it? We just decided to get ourselves hitched. Ain’t that right, darlin’?”

  Antoinette nearly fell off her chair and looked at him. He gave her a cheeky wink and mouthed, Play along.

  Okay. “Y’ll know it is, sugar pie.” She reached over and squeezed his mouth into a pucker. Antoinette didn’t know if her accent was any good, but Viktor seemed pleased enough.

  “I brung her up here to New York special and everything,” Viktor said. “Popped the question right in top o’ that big ol’ buildin’.”

  “Well, ain’t that sweet.” The waitress’s acting wasn’t nearly as good as Viktor’s. “I’ll get the bartender to mix up something real special, like. And for you, hon?”

  Viktor tossed the waitress another award-winning grin. “I think I’ll have me a Kentucky bourbon straight up, sugar. Hell—make it a double.”

  “Sure thang, hon, comin’ right up.”

  “Okay, what the hell are you doing?” Antoinette hissed at the grinning Aeternus.

  He pushed back the brim of the hat with a finger and almost split his face in half with his self-satisfied grin. “Sometimes it’s just fun to pretend to be someone else for a while and this is the perfect place for it.”

  Was he insane?

  “Don’t look at me like that. The guy who owns this place is a canian friend of mine from Alabama, and it’s just for the tourists and city folk—no self-respecting southern boy would come to a place this tacky. Look around, it’s cliché heaven.” He grabbed her head in both hands and gave her a big smacking kiss right on the lips. “So enjoy yourself—you just became aff-fee-onsed to the handsomest devil alive.”

  It was true. A souvenir stand sold hats, boots, and all things cowboy; a mechanical bull whirled and twirled, sending some poor Japanese girl flying, much to the mouth-covering amusement of her friends; and a woman gave line dancing tips to a group of middle-aged people at the edge of the dance floor. People came here to be something else.

  Why not? It might be fun. Antoinette sat back and relaxed. She didn’t feel so strange in the cotton summer dress she borrowed from the maid.

  The waitress made her way back with the drinks. As she passed the table behind, a jerk smacked the server hard on the ass. The poor woman jumped and the drinks sloshed onto the tray. She turned to give the guy a dirty look, but the idiot just laughed right along with his three friends.

  Antoinette fumed and started to rise. How dare they treat that her like that? Viktor put his hand over hers and shook his head slightly.

  The waitress put down some sort of fruity drink with a slice of pineapple on the side and an umbrella in it, just like Viktor ordered.

  “There you go,” the waitress said, her southern accent forgotten and her face flushed. “Sorry about the spillage.”

  “Are you okay?” Antoinette asked.

  The poor thing smiled weakly. “Part of the job.”

  Viktor put a couple of one-hundred-dollar bills on a dry part of her tray. “Keep the change for your trouble.”

  “Thank you, sir,” she said, a giant smile replacing the frown. “And if you need anything else—” She pointed to SHERRY on her name tag. “Just holla.”

  While Viktor’s outward appearance remained calm, his eyes glowed in amber anger. He picked up his drink and was about to take a sip when a big beefy hand descended on his shoulder.

  “You got a problem, mate?” he said with some sort of British accent.

  “No.” Viktor leaned back in his chair and hooked his thumbs into his belt, looking up at the man. “I just think that wasn’t very nice.”

  “It’s what you’re supposed to do in a place like this,” the guy said.

  Viktor frowned. “There is no place for rudeness. You owe that poor girl an apology.”

  “You think so, cowboy?” the big man blustered. “How about I beat the living shit out of you instead?”

  “Now, buddy, why would you want to go and spoil a great night on the town for you and your buds? There’d be broken bones, missing teeth, and lots of blood.”

  “Yeah, mate, and it’ll be all yours.”

  Antoinette readied for a fight, but Viktor just stood—eye to eye, placing his hands on the man’s shoulders, and smiling—a full teeth-gleaming smile. The man’s eyes dropped to Viktor’s fangs and grew a little nervous.

  “How ’bout we forget all about it and have this next round on me,” Viktor said, patting the guy’s shoulder.

  “Um…sure, that’d be real nice.” The man’s smile
wobbled around the edges. He turned around to join the hushed collective at his table.

  Viktor signaled the waitress. “Sherry—a round on me for these good, ol’ boys.” He patted the man’s back. “Y’all have fun now, ya hear.”

  Antoinette relaxed back into her seat. She hadn’t even realized she’d been sitting on the edge until then.

  “Darlin’, will you honor me with a dance?” Viktor held out his hand.

  When they reached the dance floor, Viktor twirled her around into a fast-paced two-step. He was good, very good. Dancing required similar skills to martial arts, it was all about timing and footwork. She watched the other couples on the floor and soon fell into the rhythm. She couldn’t help but smile.

  Then the music changed. Viktor pulled her into a slower-paced waltz. She looked over to the table behind theirs and saw the men sharing a joke with the waitress.

  “You handled that situation rather well,” she said. “It would’ve gone much differently if it’d been me.”

  “Let me guess—you would’ve punched the guy out then had his friends to contend with, they would’ve ended up hurt because I would’ve had to step in to keep you safe, and then you would’ve been pissed because I saved you. That about right?”

  She nodded. “Pretty fair summation, with one minor point of difference.” She smiled. “I would not have needed you to step in.”

  “My point exactly.” Viktor chuckled and pulled her closer and spun her around the floor. “You know, Antoinette, you don’t always have to attack first.”

  “It’s the only way I know,” she whispered. Nothing could hurt her if she hurt it first. She put her head against his chest. It felt nice to lean on someone for a change. She felt so safe with Viktor.

  She raised her head and looked up at him. “You are so much nicer than your friend.”

  Viktor’s eyes darkened. “No, I’m not.”

  “I’m sorry, Viktor, I didn’t mean—”

  “You don’t know anything about Christian.”

  It was the first time she’d seen him angry. She dropped her eyes to her feet and stopped dancing.

  Viktor sighed and closed his eyes, pulled her back against him and started moving again. “Look, he’s saved my life so many times and I his. But that isn’t the reason I love him. He is like my brother and my best friend. Be careful what you do to him.”

  Heat rose in Antoinette’s cheeks. “I have no intentions of doing anything to him.”

  “I see the naked hunger in both of you when you look at each other.”

  “You are kidding. The only thing I feel for Christian is—”

  “Turn against him and you turn against me. And I warn you—I make a powerful enemy.”

  Antoinette took a step away from the truth in his eyes. Viktor didn’t seem like an Aeternus that would give his loyalty lightly.

  “I’ll be careful,” she said.

  “Good” He smiled again and his eyes returned to their normal color. “Now, let’s dance.”

  The band had started another faster paced song. Viktor led her back into the dance pack and they were soon two-stepping around the floor at a giddy speed.

  After three more tunes and lots of laughing, she and Viktor returned to their table. Her untouched drink sat there looking all fruity and cheerful and she was now thirsty enough to drink it.

  “Hey—it’s the happy couple,” called the guy who had almost flattened Viktor. “Sherry tells us you two are celebrating.”

  Celebrating? Antoinette was just about to shake her head when Viktor stopped her with a squeeze of her hand.

  “We sure are,” Viktor said. “We got ourselves engaged this very afternoon.”

  The table of men cheered and the waitress laughed. “This here is some real southern boys—all the way from Australia.”

  “Why don’t you and your lady come and join us? And no hard feelin’s, hey.” The big man put out his hand. “Name’s Davo.”

  Viktor took his hand and shook it. “Well, how do, Davo. I’m Sammy-Dean and this is my fiancée, Mandy-Sue.”

  Antoinette just stood there. Mandy-Sue? Twenty minutes ago they were looking to bust heads, and now Viktor and the big Australian were becoming fast friends. She shook her head. She picked up her cocktail and took a sip through the straw. Whoa, Nellie. Juice it wasn’t—it tasted about four parts rum and one part fruit. Well—maybe it was time for Mandy-Sue to have some fun. She sat down on Sammy-Dean’s knee and smacked a big ol’ kiss on his cheek.

  A heavy pounding dragged her from sleep. Who was making that racket? And why weren’t they in the training room? She rolled over on her stomach and dragged the pillow over her head. But the banging continued.

  She flipped on her back again and opened her eyes to a moment of dizzy confusion. This wasn’t her room at the school. Then the events of the past few days flooded back with vivid clarity and she remembered she was in New York. Someone knocked at her door again.

  “Come in,” she said, putting a hand to her pounding head.

  Susan, the maid, entered and placed a tray on the nearby table. “Evening, miss.”

  Antoinette sat up and stretched, the bedding falling to her waist. “What time is it?”

  “Past sunset, around seven-thirty,” the maid said as she laid out enough to feed half a dozen people. “Here’s something that may help settle your stomach.” She handed Antoinette a glass of fizzing liquid.

  “Thank you.” Antoinette gratefully downed it, in a couple of swallows, screwing her nose at the foul taste. “My head feels like it’s going to explode.”

  The maid smiled as she took the empty glass back. “I’m not surprised.”

  Antoinette wasn’t a drinker at the best of times and the rum-laced fruit cocktails had hit her pretty hard. Viktor and the Australians had a great time—those boys could sure put it away.

  She vaguely remembered Christian’s thunderous expression when Viktor dragged her back to the house a short time before dawn. When Christian stalked away, Viktor burst out laughing and helped her to her room where, being the perfect gentleman, he dumped her on the bed and left.

  The smell of hot-buttered toast and fresh coffee made her mouth water and her stomach rumble. While her head pounded—she didn’t seem affected by the usual hangover nausea. Only her brain appeared a little muddled—like trying to think through a fog.

  “I think I’ll have a shower first.” Antoinette crawled out of bed.

  The maid stared, then dropped her eyes to the serving tray again.

  Antoinette realized she was naked and slipped into the robe slung over the back of a chair. “Sorry.”

  “That’s okay—I see naked people here all the time. But those scars on your hip…” Susan said. “They looked nasty.”

  Antoinette shrugged. “A close encounter with a dreniac, that’s all.”

  Susan straightened. “It must be exciting to be a Venator.”

  Antoinette shrugged. “I’ve been one so long it’s hard to remember anything else. It’s been my life since I was a child. I guess it can be exciting.”

  “You must be very brave,” Susan said.

  “My brother calls it reckless,” Antoinette said before entering the bathroom.

  The shower was good, just what she’d need. She turned off the faucet and slipped back into fluffy robe. Steam fogged the mirror; she ran her palm across it to see her reflection. The hot water had colored her cheeks and refreshed her head.

  She wrapped her wet hair in a towel and piled it on her head. With one last look at the dark circles under her eyes, she left the bathroom.

  “Susan, tell me—” The rest of the question died on her lips as her gaze settled upon Christian sitting at the table sipping coffee.

  At least she hoped it was coffee and not blood. Her hands went to the front of the bathrobe she’d hastily wrapped around herself and secured it tighter. “Where’s Susan?”

  “She has other duties,” he said.

  Her eyes fell on the waiting meal and h
er stomach growled.

  “Sit down and eat while we talk,” Christian said. The look of hunger in his eyes had nothing to do with food.

  She pulled out the chair opposite him. “There’s enough here to feed a small army,” she said, popping a grape into her mouth.

  His gaze fell to her lips. “Kavindish wasn’t sure what you’d like.”

  “Good—cause I’m ravenous.” She picked another grape and this time brought it to her lips and sucked slowly, watching him through her lashes. He seemed transfixed by her mouth, his eyes darkened.

  She reached for a piece of toast and her robe fell open slightly. His eyes dropped. She could have closed the robe—yet she didn’t. What was she doing?

  What happened on the plane came back with solid clarity, sucking the breath from her body. She couldn’t let that happen again. No matter how much she wanted it.

  16

  Home Alone

  Christian suddenly and inexplicably missed food. He’d long forgotten the taste but not the pleasure food could give. He caught a glimpse of roundness as she reached across the table.

  Antoinette straightened, pulled the robe shut and bit into the toast again. To take his mind off her nakedness, he poured a cup of coffee and handed it to her.

  It cut him to see her and Viktor returning from a night on the town together even though Viktor had assured him it’d been innocent enough. They never lied to one another about women, not after Carolina. He’d also warned Christian to rein in his feeling for the lovely Ms. Petrescu. He was right. What had happened had been nothing more than an itch that needed scratching.

  “Thanks,” she said around a mouthful and reached for the cup, avoiding looking directly at him. Their fingers brushed and electricity shot up his arm even at such brief contact. She stopped mid-chew, shock registering on her face. After a heartbeat she swallowed and pulled the coffee to her lips.

  Christian found it so hard to concentrate and he was growing hard just watching her eat. She wrapped soft lips around a luscious red strawberry, her eyelids dropping as she bit into the fruit. He imagined it was his tongue she sucked instead and the thought sent a heat wave through him, stronger than anything he’d felt in centuries. It was almost like the grip of a blood-thrall and his body reacted before his mind could catch. Juice ran down her chin as she bit into a piece of mango and her tongue darted out to catch it.