Night's Cold Kiss

by Tracey O'Hara

  “Don’t hold back on my account,” he said.

  “I don’t plan to.” She brought her sword up again.

  Next time he attacked, she brought her elbow up and took him in the chin, rocking his head back.

  While he rubbed his jaw, she dropped and spun with her leg outstretched, sweeping him off his feet. He fell on his back and before he could react, she straddled him and claimed his mouth with her own, hunger consuming her. Their swords fell to the side.

  His smile said he’d allowed her to pull that move and he was only toying with her. Abdomen muscles bunched under her thighs, setting off the butterflies in her stomach. He dropped his sword and took her face in his hands, kissing her with a fierceness to match her own. When he sat up, she wrapped her legs around him, hooking her feet behind his back.

  With their lips still locked he stood, taking her with him. She kept her arms encircled around his neck, tightened the grip of her thighs and pressed her breasts to him, the taut nipples rubbing against his naked chest. He groaned against her neck and squeezed her closer, trembling. He was close to losing it. She had him. Just a little more…

  With tenderness, he unwrapped her legs from his waist and set her on her feet, gently prying her arms away. Antoinette felt empty, her body screaming for contact, but he moved away to pick up his sword.

  “We’re sparring, remember.” He shifted to cover the bulge in his pants.

  As she turned to pick up her own weapon, she felt him cut the tie binding her hair and with the flat side of the sword, helped the braid to unravel. Now he really was playing with her.

  She spun on him, her hair flying across her face. She dragged it out of her eyes with one hand and brought her blade up with the other.

  “Now,” he said, his white teeth showing through his self-satisfied smirk, “we’re even.”

  “Oh—you think so, do you?” She fought to keep the smile from her lips.

  The game was just beginning and she intended to win. Again they began to circle each other, the tips of their swords almost kissing. His gaze sizzled her insides. Liquid fire pooled in her stomach then spread down the inside of her legs, making her toes curl in the heat. She clenched and relaxed her grip on the sword handle, waiting for the perfect moment.

  Before she could blink he moved behind, pinning her back to his chest with his arm under her heaving breasts and just as quickly, released her and moved away again. She felt her sweatpants drop away where he’d sliced them open. The ruined material gathered around her ankles and she kicked them off. Now she stood holding her sword at her side, wearing nothing but a thong and her cropped sports top. Her breasts were heavy, her nipples screaming for his touch. Her breathing became short and the pulsing between her legs demanded to be filled.

  Enough. Antoinette knew exactly how to get what she wanted. She brought her blade up under the band of her top and sliced. The material parted neatly under the razor-sharp edge, freeing her aching breasts. She was going to have him and on her own terms. With a wicked grin, she dropped her head and looked at him from under her lashes, holding his gaze, while she made a shallow cut above her left breast. She blinked slowly and sucked back her breath at the sharp, exquisite pain. Crimson beads formed as she leveled her gaze at him—daring him. Confident he wouldn’t be able to resist her now.

  Christian’s pupils contracted, zoning in on the growing red line. His face changed, full of raw hunger and all the animalistic power to take it. Lips peeled back to reveal his fangs, fully extended and he stretched his jaw wider.

  “You’re playing with fire, Antoinette,” he growled.

  “Then burn me,” she breathed.

  She’d barely finished the last word when he threw his sword aside. Before it hit the ground he’d crossed the room, gathering her as he went and slamming her back against the wall. The air was forced from her lungs but she hardly felt it. He pushed her up the wall, bringing her chest level with his mouth and covered the cut, sealing it. He snarled—not an entirely unhappy sound. She moaned and buried her hands in his hair while wrapping her legs around his chest.

  He hovered close to her nipple. Not touching nor tasting, staying less than an inch from the surface. He looked up at her with a wicked gleam in his eye. Antoinette arched her back trying to bring her taut flesh closer to his waiting mouth. But he moved with her—his breath stirring the air between his lips and her flesh—torturing her with the promise of pleasure yet denied.

  Finally, he opened his mouth and scraped the hardened nub with the tip of one of his fangs. Without warning she rushed over the edge, the orgasm taking her completely unaware and unprepared. She flung her arms out along the cool wall behind her and threw back her head. Her back arched, her legs quivering as she cried out again and again with the waves of release thundering through her.

  But it wasn’t enough. She needed more, she needed him deep inside her. As he let her slide down, she took fierce possession of his mouth, his hardness pressing against her as she let her legs drop to the floor. Antoinette tugged and pulled at his sweatpants. Finally, she had them far enough down to take his length in her trembling hand. Using the wall at her back for balance, she lifted her legs again around his hips and maneuvered her thong aside so she could slide him into her.

  Her private flesh stretched around him and she clenched, trying to let him in as far as she could take him. With one hard thrust he filled her completely; she arched her back and cried out against the painful exquisiteness. Her arms gripped his shoulders, her thighs clenched slick with sweat. He drew back and thrust into her again.

  He held her by the hips and dropped his gaze to watch himself moving in and out of her. The sight of him filling her took her breath away, heightened the sensations with each thrust.

  “Bite me,” she moaned.

  “No…it’s too soon…you haven’t recovered enough,” he gasped as he plunged into her again and again, each time harder than the last.

  “Please, oh please. I need you.”

  His gaze burned her soul. For a moment he stopped moving, his eyes dropped to her lips. She licked them. He groaned and leaned forward. Then he nipped her.

  A metallic taste filled her mouth as he held her close, sucking on her bottom lip, and he began driving into her faster and harder. The pressure built and built until she rushed headlong toward orgasm—rising higher and higher until she was there—crashing blissfully over the edge.

  Christian grunted against her mouth and gave one last shuddering thrust as he joined her.

  Antoinette’s ragged breathing roared in her ears, sweat bathed her skin, her chest heaved, and all the bones disappeared from her limbs leaving them loose and trembling. He was still inside her and when he withdrew she felt a fleeting moment of loss.

  He smoothed the hair away from her face as he kept intense eye contact. “Did I hurt you?”

  She sighed at his unexpected tenderness. “Only in the best possible way and nothing a long soak in the tub won’t fix.”

  “Your wish is my command,” he said, kicking the sweatpants from around his ankles as he tightened his grip around her waist.

  Antoinette wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head against his shoulder as he carried her naked through the house, seemingly unembarrassed by their state of undress or their intimate embrace. He carried her to an enormous room with a sunken tub like a small bathing pool dominating the center. He sat her gently on the edge and turned on the faucets before lighting the candles semi-hidden in niches around the room.

  How many women had he seduced in this room? And why should she care?

  Christian poured scented bubble bath into the tub. The aroma of sandalwood and lavender filled the room. She worked the thong over her hips and lowered herself into the hot, soothing water, then looked up to find him watching her.

  It was a side of him she hadn’t seen or expected. Such thought, such consideration. The bath filled fast, almost deep enough to swim in. She submerged, letting the water-dampened silence soothe her
troubled thoughts. Usually she’d forgotten the guy she’d just had sex with as soon as she’d pulled her panties back on. But not this time. Christian was still very much in her head. When she resurfaced he’d joined her.

  Sluicing the water off her face, she smiled.

  “Come here,” he said, reaching for the shampoo.

  She settled between his legs and he massaged the scented lather through her hair. Antoinette lay back as his heavenly fingers kneaded the knots from her scalp and soothed away her reservations. After all, it had just been sex…right?

  Hot hands, soapy bubbles, and warm water eased away her aches and pains, loosening tension and turning her to mush.

  Christian gently washed the suds. He’d never experienced this kind of intensity before. Ever. Not even with Dominique, his wife, and especially not that conniving bitch, Carolina. His hand stilled above Antoinette’s perfect forehead.

  Carolina. His chest squeezed at the memory but not with the crippling, searing pain he’d come to expect. She’d done such a number on him, playing him from the start. Viktor knew it and had warned him, but he didn’t want to believe she could’ve used him so callously.

  Embraced humans were prone to becoming dreniacs because they lacked control over their feeding urges. He’d been so sure that he could help Carolina overcome the bloodlust and control her hunger. But he failed, and she turned on him, trying to frame him for her kills.

  If only he’d looked beyond her captivating beauty to see the self-centered, spoiled princess she really was. But he hadn’t. And he’d paid the price. A price he wasn’t willing to pay again. The memory of her scornful expression turning to terror just before he beheaded her still haunted him.

  Antoinette stirred, bringing him back to the warm body between his knees. Her head lolled against his chest and he stirred in response to her warm breath caressing his skin. Her breathing was slow and even. She’d fallen asleep.

  Antoinette was nothing like Carolina—the complete opposite in fact. But it didn’t guarantee she’d be any different in the long run. She was still human.

  “Hey,” he said gently in her ear. “Why don’t you go get some more sleep?”

  She opened her eyes and smiled. Not the usual half-guarded semi-smile that never quite reached her eyes. This one went right down into her soul and reflected back through her whole body; the first truly honest smile he’d seen. And it made her so achingly beautiful, it nearly broke his heart.

  “That sounds like a good idea.” She turned and kissed him lightly on the lips, and then giving the end of his nose a quick flick with the tip of her tongue, she climbed from the bathing pool.

  His gaze wandered over lithe limbs and firm perfection honed by years of training. A bruise had started to appear on her left buttock and a hand shaped mark darkened her upper right arm. He’d been rough, but she had taken it all and given as good as she got. He rubbed his chin, remembering how she’d elbowed him there. He’d enjoyed more than the physical act, she challenged his mind as well as his body. But was it something more? Carolina sprang to mind again and he shook the destructive thoughts from his head. He was reading too much into this. After all it was just sex…right?

  Antoinette pulled on one of the fluffy bathrobes hanging on a hook and wrapped it around herself. Her hand rested above the doorknob and she turned to him. “Thank you—that was nice.”

  And then she was gone.

  After dressing, Christian came downstairs he find Lilijana’s suitcase and several retail bags from expensive stores sitting by the front door. His mother was in the library reading a magazine. As he approached, she quickly shut the glossy fashion rag, but not before he caught sight of The Economist hidden inside.

  “How is she?” she asked, flicking the pages absently.

  “Asleep again.” He crossed to the bar and poured himself a whiskey.

  She motioned for him to pour her a drink as well and he handed her his glass before preparing another.

  “She’s getting to you, isn’t she?” Lilijana crossed her long, artificially tanned legs.

  Christian worked at the lump in his throat and waved her comment aside. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Yes, you do.” She took a sip from her glass. “You have that look.”

  Christian placed his untouched drink back on the bar. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “You’ve felt an extra spark, something different. It’s written all over your face.” She stood and moved toward him. “You know your father felt the same when he first fed from me?”

  “Yes, but you had Latent blood.”

  She quirked a knowing eyebrow then took a sip from her drink.

  The dots finally connected. “How? When? Obviously Antoinette doesn’t know.”

  “None of Nicolae’s descendants know. How do you think your father was able to engage him in the first place? Ignatius knew the truth, knew that Nicolae’s mother was a Latent—like mine.”

  “A Petrescu would never marry a Latent,” Christian said.

  “Not knowingly, of course, but Nicolae’s father never knew and neither did his brother, the assassin…Emil.” Lilijana still had trouble saying that name. “Their mother only told Nicolae on her deathbed, and he revealed it to no one.”

  “Out of shame, no doubt,” he said.

  Lilijana shook her head. “Christian, you know better. Nicolae loved his children and family was always important to him—especially his mother.” Lilijana’s face grew sad.

  Christian knew she remembered her own mother who’d been forced into prostitution to provide for Lilijana in a harsh and uncaring world—wanted by neither humans nor Aeternus and finally murdered by one of her clients.

  “It does explain Antoinette’s skills and apparent empathy with animals,” Christian said.

  Lilijana placed her empty glass on the bar. “Yes. Sometimes the genes come out more strongly in later generations, as seems to be the case with Antoinette. However, I don’t think she should be told. With her past history…it may just send her over the edge.”

  The heavy throbbing of helicopter rotors grew louder in the darkness from beyond the huge bay window. A single shaft of light appeared above the trees.

  “Oh good, here comes my escape back to civilization. This has all been such a trial.” Lilijana reverted to her usual rich-bitch demeanor—almost. She gathered up her handbag and winked before slipping on diamond-studded designer shades.

  He caught her hand before she turned away. “Thank you, Mother.”

  She reached out and cupped his cheek, her mask briefly slipping again. “Just don’t ever do that to me again.”

  He pulled her closer and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Take care of yourself.”

  She patted his cheek and then dropped her hand. “Kavindish…Kavindish where are you?”

  The butler appeared a few seconds later carrying her bags.

  “It’s about time. I don’t know how Christian puts up with your incompetence,” she huffed.

  Kavindish’s eyes darted between Christian and his mother. “Neither do I, Miss Lilijana. I’m very fortunate to have such an understanding employer.”

  Lilijana stomped toward the door but when she reached Kavindish she leaned in closer and whispered, “Take care of my baby.”

  “I always do, Miss Lilijana.”

  After a fleeting smile she straightened her shoulders, tossed back her hair, and continued through the door. “Well, come on, stop dawdling, I don’t have all night.”

  24

  Back to the Real World

  As a lover, Christian was as insatiable as Antoinette turned out to be. She enjoyed taking him as often as he took her. Sometimes their lovemaking was rough, almost violent and yet at other times it was slow and tender. But no matter how good it was, Antoinette couldn’t bring herself to spend the day sleeping beside him. That would be far too intimate.

  She enjoyed what they had now, with no thoughts of a future. But still, when Christian suggested it was
time to return to New York City a few days after his near slip into the Dark Sleep, she almost didn’t want to leave. Once back in the real world she knew it would all change.

  They’d been back at the town house barely an hour when a heavy banging rattled the front door. Antoinette put down the newspaper she had been leafing through.

  As she came into the foyer Susan answered the front door. Oberon pushed past the maid and stopped in front of her.

  “You’re back!” Those intense black eyes filled with a thousand questions bore into her.

  And she knew why he was here, given the expression on his face. “You’ve seen him.”

  “Yes.” Oberon straightened to tower over her. “He came here looking for you.”

  Fear spiked, but was quickly replaced by anger at Dante’s nerve. “Did you get him?”

  “No—he got away, again.” Oberon dropped his gaze to his feet. “I wasn’t ready for him because I didn’t expect him to be back so soon after you pumped him so full of silver slugs.”

  “Who are you talking about?” Christian asked from the top of the stairs.

  “You didn’t tell him?” Oberon asked, tilting his head.

  She tried to tell herself there hadn’t been time, but truth was she knew that he’d never believe her without proof and she hadn’t been ready to leave the temporary haven of his estate.

  “Tell me what?” Christian asked, as he reached the bottom of the staircase.

  “We had a run-in with Dante Rubins—he’s the Fang-Whore Slasher.”

  Christian looked like he’d been slapped. Hurt eyes turned on her. “You’re sure it wasn’t just some shifter of something?”

  “It was definitely Dante. I recognized his scent from years ago,” Oberon said. “But we’ve had another sighting since.”

  “Where?” Christian asked, coming closer.

  “In the park across the road from this house.”

  Antoinette shuddered.

  Christian wrapped an arm around her. “Are you sure the source is reliable?”