Night's Cold Kiss

by Tracey O'Hara

  She slung the bag diagonally over her shoulder and leaned in for a look. The shaft stretched into darkness above. It would be a tight squeeze, but doable. Antoinette sat on the edge and tested the cables then clenched the small flashlight Kavindish handed her between her teeth.

  “The cables should hold you—it’s the motor that’s not very powerful,” Kavindish reassured her. “Good luck, miss.”

  She pulled her legs into the shaft. It wasn’t a difficult climb, just cramped. Luckily she wasn’t claustrophobic. Antoinette soon reached the floor above and slid open the dumbwaiter door. The room beyond was gloomy and musty. A lamp sat on the table near the dumbwaiter and she switched it on then took off the carry-bag and dropped it on the table.

  It was a mess. Furniture, floor, and walls were covered with maps and papers. The phone had been knocked to the floor and the busy tone rang out loud and constant. She placed the handset back in the cradle and put the phone on a small end table. A half dozen computer screens all showed different locations and flashing icons.

  Steel covered the windows, and in the bedroom the sheets were disheveled, but no sign of Christian.

  She walked to the door. “I’m in, but I haven’t found him yet. I need to find the keys for these locks before I can open the door.”

  “Find Christian first.” Lilijana’s reply was muffled by the thick metal. “He’ll have the keys on him. Check the bathroom.”

  “Okay,” she yelled back.

  She opened the bathroom door and found the light switch. Her breath caught in her throat as the light filled the room. Christian lay on the cold pale blue tiles curled in a fetal position, his pale skin tinged with gray.

  Afraid it was already too late, she reached out a shaking hand to touch his face. It was icy beneath her fingertips.

  Suddenly his eyes flung open and she felt more than heard the low rumbling growl. Instinctively she drew back, her heart clenching as she looked into his eyes. They were dull, almost colorless, and showed no sign of recognition. His lips drew back into a snarl, displaying fully extended fangs.

  “Christian,” she said, fear cracking her voice.

  He pulled himself up onto his elbows, his eyes focusing on her. His lips curled with his snarl, his eyes fixing on her with a feral hunger. He leapt and pinned her against the wall before she had time to react.

  “So warm,” he growled against her throat, goose bumps prickled across her skin. “So hungry.”

  His bloodless lips peeled back fangs sharp and gleaming in the bathroom light. He blinked and punched the switch, plunging them into darkness. His grip on her loosened and she felt his hands tremble.

  Antoinette pushed him away with ease and heard him grunt as he hit the floor. He was as weak as a kitten.

  “Antoinette?” he croaked.

  She turned on the lights again and found him on his side.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “It’s been two weeks…”

  “So?” he cut her off. “Just leave me alone.”

  “You’ve been left alone and your mother and others are worried. It’s time to get up.” Angry at his apathy, she walked over and slapped him across the face. She wanted, no—needed—to shock him out of it. “While you lie here wallowing in self-pity, the trail of Viktor’s killer grows colder by the second.”

  Christian winced more at the mention of Viktor’s name than he had when she hit him, then his face clouded in again. “Get out. You don’t know—”

  “How dare you?” Her rising voice boomed in the small room. “What don’t I know? Let me see.” She tapped her chin with her forefinger. “Is it the feeling of powerlessness at watching someone you love die at the hands of another? Or is it the anger and frustration you feel for not being able to prevent it?” She squatted down to his level, eye to eye. “Don’t you dare tell me I don’t know. I know very well—because I live with it every day.”

  His shoulders sagged, he dropped his head for a moment before looking back at her. “You’re right—” He let out his breath in a long sigh.

  “So what are you going to do about it?”

  “Well—first, I have to get off this floor.”

  He struggled into a sitting position. Antoinette took a deep breath and reached out to help him stand. As he leaned against her, the iciness of his body seeped through her clothing, chilling her to the bone. Christian looked at her and his nostrils flared. He leaned in a little more, his tortured eyes fixed on her throat as he licked his dry gray lips before gently pushing her away.

  Antoinette smiled to cover the nervous flutter his hungry glance caused her stomach. “I’ve brought you some blood—it’s in the bedroom.”

  “It’s no use,” he croaked.

  She took a step away from him. “You’re a stubborn son of a bitch—”

  “No, that’s not what I meant.” He turned to look at her. “You feel the chill of my body.” He placed his icy fingertips against her cheek. “The blood must be warm…it must be fresh.”

  “Oh, so you must feed from—” She couldn’t bring herself to finish.

  He stiffened slightly against her. “I’ll call the donor service.”

  His hand hovered over the phone when an alarm from one of the computers began clanging—startling them both.

  “Shit,” he said. “Finally!” Christian stumbled over and leaned against the desk.

  Antoinette managed to shove an office chair behind him just as his trembling legs gave out altogether and he landed on the seat instead of the floor.

  “What is it?” Antoinette watched the screens flash.

  “I set some monitoring software in all the airports in and around the New York area. It uses the CCT network already in place.”

  “CCT network?” she asked. Nici was the technology geek in the family.

  “Closed circuit television. This software we have is able to plug into any network already in existence, and because we have footage of Andrew Williams, I programmed it to warn me if he entered an airport. I knew he would sooner or later.” Christian leaned closer to one of the screens. “And there he is.”

  “Where—I can’t see him,” she said, leaning closer.

  “The blond man there.” He pointed to a man, however it looked nothing like Williams. “The software takes height and the gait of a person. No matter what disguise they are wearing, it is difficult to hide those elements.”

  The screen flicked to another camera as the man approached the ticket counter. This time she got a good look at his face. He’d lost the beard and bleached his hair, but those beady nervous eyes were the same as at the conference ball. It was definitely Andrew Williams.

  Christian started typing, accessing the airline booking page. “Shit, Paris in two hours. I have to stop him…”

  He looked about to pass out, Antoinette took a step closer.

  He stood quickly and swayed on his feet as he braced himself against the desk, his breathing labored. “Got to get to the airport.”

  Antoinette took one look at the sickly gray pallor of his skin. “You can’t go anywhere in your condition. You don’t have enough strength to even stand on your own.”

  “I’ve got to stop Williams, he’s our best lead.” Again his eyes fixated on her throat before he dragged them back to her face.

  Christian steadied himself. “Pass me that blood you brought, it might sustain me enough…” His legs buckled but she caught him before he fell.

  He pushed her away and held up a restraining hand, then hung his head, unable to speak.

  There’s no way a donor will get here in time, which means…Before she could change her mind she said, “Feed on me.”

  Christian looked at her sharply. She saw a momentary flicker in his expression before he shook his head.

  “No.”

  Antoinette put her hands on her hips and braced herself for a fight. “Why not? You need blood…I have plenty. Take what you need and we can go stop that bastard.”

  He looked away. “
You don’t know what you’re doing.”

  “Christian, we are wasting valuable time.” Her hand shook, and with her heart thumping loudly in her ears, she pulled back her hair. “Just do it.”

  He stared at her for a moment longer, something shifted in his face.

  Finally she said, “I need to find out what happened to my father and you’re the best chance I have of stopping the only lead we have.”

  He picked up the phone and dialed. “It’s Christian. Get the chopper to my estate. I need to get to the international airport ASAP.”

  Antoinette moved closer. With hands on either side of her face, Christian pulled her toward him until his cold lips touched hers. Warmth radiated from the pit of her stomach counteracting the chill of his body.

  Slowly—painfully slow—he trailed kisses toward her throat, leaving fire wherever his icy lips brushed her skin. Then he captured her mouth with his and kissed her with fierce hunger that had more than the need for blood behind it.

  He pulled back to stare into her eyes. “Are you certain?”

  Antoinette couldn’t trust her voice to answer. She returned his intense gaze and nodded. Barely touching her, he caressed her throat before he unbuttoned the light cotton top she wore.

  “What are you doing?” Her voice quivered. Even though she wanted him to continue, she wasn’t sure she was ready.

  “I need to remove your shirt—it’s in the way.” His husky voice sent shivers through her.

  “Oh…right.” She felt her face flush as he continued.

  “Shouldn’t you hurry? You’ve got to reach him before—”

  Whatever she was about to say flew out of her mind as he bent forward and gently nipped the lobe of her ear. His lips were so cold against her warm flesh, so intense, pleasure and pain burned simultaneously, scorching her with a desire she’d never felt before.

  “It will take a few minutes for the chopper to get ready—we’ve plenty of time,” he whispered in her ear. Running his fingertips along her collarbone, he pushed open her shirt and she gasped when his arm brushed her breast. He paused, his eyes burning with a deep hunger. Antoinette had to look away to conceal her own longing.

  “Do you want me to stop?” he whispered.

  “No—” Her voice sounded breathless in her ears. Swallowing hard, she said, “No, don’t stop.”

  “Good.” He slipped the shirt from her shoulders, dropping it to the floor, leaving her dressed only in a filmy lace bra and a pair of jeans. The frigid air surrounding him raised goose bumps on her bare flesh, causing her nipples to tighten further.

  He placed a gentle, chilly hand on the small of her back and pressed her against him. She instinctively stepped back when she saw his elongated teeth, until she noticed something else—he was excited in more ways than one. Against all possibility in his weakened state, the evidence lay hard against her stomach.

  For some strange reason this calmed her, and she relaxed into his embrace. At the touch of his lips at the base of her throat, Antoinette’s breath froze. With a momentary flash of pain, his fangs pierced the skin then a jolt of pure ecstasy shot down her spine—straight to her loins—pooling there to lap in delicious waves of delight. Her legs buckled, but he lifted her tightly against him.

  Electric currents surged through her body—as if she was being struck time and again with lightning bolts of pure pleasure. Someone was moaning. She realized it was her. Clinging to him, she no longer cared about her desire or his. She no longer cared about anything accept the satisfaction that lay just beyond her reach.

  Vaguely aware his lips had grown warm against her flesh and his hand was no longer icy where it touched her back, she trembled. Just when she thought she could take no more without exploding in rapturous glory, her vision swam.

  No! Stop.

  She sank into blackness.

  22

  Leaving on a Jet Plane

  Christian scooped her up and lay her down on the unmade bed. He’d deliberately not told her she’d be incapacitated by his feeding, but she wouldn’t have gone through with it if he had.

  She’d been right—they didn’t have time for anything else, and with all the staff having “no donation” clauses in their employment contracts, she was the only one available. So it was her or risk losing Williams.

  So pale and so fragile.

  He gently pushed the hair away from her face and planted a tender kiss on her forehead. With relief he listened to the strong, steady beat of her heart.

  Blood, her blood, sang through his veins, charging him with intense energy. Never before had he tasted anything like her. Foremost was her passion, hot and sweet, dancing on his palate above the tang of fear. The subtle earthiness of her sorrow lingered on his lips along with the slight bitterness of her ever-present hatred. But there was something else, something he had never tasted before. It was like liquid lightning surging through his body—white-hot and powerful.

  The rhythmic rise and fall of her chest held him mesmerized. His throat constricted as he traced his fingertip across her breast along the edge of the sexy red lace of her bra before he bent forward and inhaled her fragrance. Her sweet breath brushed his lips as he lowered them to hers and savored the silky texture of her mouth.

  The sound of the approaching helicopter broke the spell. Christian sighed and pulled up the covers. He changed quickly then picked up his cell and a yellow envelope containing five thousand dollars. As he reached the door, he glanced back at her sleeping form and cursed that time had not allowed him to experience her as fully as he would’ve liked. Would she have let him? Maybe—maybe not. Reluctantly, he unbarred the door and opened it to find his mother standing there.

  “About bloody time. I’ve been standing here for the last twenty minutes thinking you were dead.” Lilijana burst into tears and hugged him. “Thank goodness we weren’t too late. Are you okay?” she asked, her expression full of concern and so different from her usual haughty countenance.

  “Yes, Mother, I’m fine.” He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her cheek. “It was close, but Antoinette saved me.” Again, he looked to where she lay. “She’s weak and may need a transfusion.”

  “Of course,” she said and frowned. “But where are you going?”

  “I have to stop someone from leaving the country—someone who may be able to lead us to Viktor’s murderer.”

  Grief flashed before Lilijana’s gaze steeled. “Go—I’ll take care of the girl.”

  A few minutes later Christian climbed into the helicopter and donned a headset before giving the pilot the thumbs-up. The whining pitch of the engine grew higher as the rotors built up speed for takeoff. Within a few minutes Christian was on his way to the airport.

  The flight seemed to take forever, but finally they reached the glittering sea of jewels that was New York, nearing John F. Kennedy International Airport. Christian ripped off his headset and jumped out before the chopper even touched down, then ran toward Terminal 7 and British Airways. It was quicker this way than any other transport available.

  He entered the terminal and slowed down. Searching for the contact he’d called from the chopper or for Williams. A uniformed security guard approached him and smiled.

  “I got your call, sir.” Christian’s man, posing as the security guard, nodded. “I’ve located the suspect and he’s this way.”

  Christian used his badge to get past the customs people, following his man through to the bar beyond customs. The guard stopped inside the doorway and turned his back to the patrons, blocking their view of Christian. “He’s over there in the far corner.”

  Christian glanced over the guard’s shoulder. Williams sipped a glass of spirits, his nervous eyes continually darting around the room.

  The guard held open his uniform jacket. Christian slipped the yellow envelope into an internal pocket as he slid by and headed for his target.

  Williams looked up and his eyes widened as Christian came to a stop by his table. Christian growled, hauling the man to
his feet by the front of his jacket.

  “You’ve got no right to touch me,” Williams said, trying to cover his unease with a confident façade.

  “You had no right getting my friend killed,” Christian hissed, his lips pulling into a snarl.

  The former ambassadorial aide’s eyes gravitated toward Christian’s extended fangs and his face dropped. “Please, please don’t hurt me,” Williams whimpered. Terror seeped from every pore, the spicy scent filling Christian’s nose.

  “Why didn’t you turn up to the meeting?” Christian asked.

  “I was ordered not to.”

  “By whom?”

  “I don’t know.” Andrew’s eyes darted left and right again, his pupils dilating. A lie.

  “Volunteer the information on your own—or don’t. Actually…” Christian widened his smile and let the man see his fangs. “I’d prefer it if you don’t.”

  Williams’s eyes almost rolled back in his head. Christian thought he was going to have an epileptic fit.

  “Okay, okay—but not here. Get me somewhere safe—protect me and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

  “Protect you from whom?” Christian asked.

  “From the Old One, and that’s all I’ll tell you until I’m safe.”

  Christian considered this for a second. “Why should I trust you?”

  “Because I need protection and you need answers.” Williams’s mock confidence returned, but only for a second. “Look, if you can find me, so can he. And I’m definitely a dead man if I’m seen talking to you.”

  “All right.”

  Williams scooped up his briefcase and jogged to keep pace as Christian dragged the former ambassadorial aide by his upper arm toward the bar’s exit.

  Halfway across the terminal Christian relaxed his grip slightly and Williams took advantage, yanking his arm free. He ran toward airport police, pointing at Christian and yelling that he was trying to kill him. With supernatural speed, Christian caught him within a few paces and spun him around. “Listen here, you little sh—”

  A nanosecond after the distinctive popping of a rifle being fired through a silencer, the bullet smashed into Williams’s skull, hitting him just above the right eye with a sickening crunch. His eyes went wide and then dulled as his life seeped from the bullet hole in his forehead. He was dead before he hit the floor.