I got off his lap and went to visit the bathroom, my body burning for him while my mind yelled at me for wanting something that he couldn’t give.
“Pia?”
Magda’s voice interrupted my trip down memory lane.
“Yes?”
“You haven’t heard a word I said, have you? You looked like you were a million miles away.”
“Sorry. Just wondering if this little jaunt to Germany is going to give the vampires the slip.”
The look she gave me was part exasperation, part affection. “That’s exactly what I was asking you about.”
“You didn’t have to come-” I started to say, feeling guilty once again that their vacation was turning into an endurance bout of globe-hopping.
“Oh, hush, we had that out last night. Since Mattias is now evidently your love puppy, with the emphasis on the ‘puppy,’ then I figured we’d be going to Iceland next.”
“Yes. Except I think Kristoff might want you guys to act as a decoy.”
“Decoy? Oh, to lead the vamps off your trail?”
“Exactly. Although they have to know we’d go to Iceland. Maybe we should talk to Kristoff. I don’t really remember all he said. I was kind of busy flashing light at Mattias.”
“We’ll let Ray have his beauty sleep,” Magda said, getting to her feet. “Let’s confab with the man.”
“Sounds good. It’ll give me a chance to try out the new pet name I have for him.”
“You found one?”
“Yes. It’s Italian,” I said rather smugly. “I haven’t used it yet, but this would be a good opportunity to see how it feels.”
“Italian! How exotic. I should have something like that for Ray.”
I nudged her with my elbow. “You’re Hispanic, silly! Surely there are oodles of Spanish love names.”
“Bah. Spanish isn’t nearly as exotic as Italian is. OK, you’re up. Let’s hear this great endearment.”
“We’ve come to talk game plan . . . er . . . Kristoff.” My sentence trailed away lamely as he lowered the magazine he was reading so I could crawl over his legs to my seat.
Magda sat on the arm of the seat opposite him, shaking her head. “Chicken.”
My shoulders slumped.
Kristoff gave me an odd look. “What is it you are accused of being afraid of?”
“It’s the pet name you gave me. Well, not gave me, but gave me to use for you. I can’t do it. It just doesn’t feel right.”
“Ah,” he said, clearly not bothered in the least.
“Maybe you should forgo exotic and stick to something you’re more comfortable with,” Magda suggested. “Did you try plain old ‘honey’?”
We both looked at Kristoff. He rolled his eyes. “No,” I said at the same time Magda shook her head.
“Agreed. He’s not the ‘honey’ type. How about . . .” She tapped a finger to her chin. “ ‘Angel’?”
“Definitely not,” Kristoff said, going back to his magazine.
“He’s not really an ‘angel’ type, either,” I admitted.
“You may have something. Let’s see . . . ‘sweet pea’?”
“Christ, no,” Kristoff said.
“Hush, you,” I said, concentrating. “ ‘Sugar pie’?”
He shuddered.
“I suppose ‘snuggle bunny’ is out,” Magda said thoughtfully. “ ‘Sugar lips’?”
“Ohh, now that’s not bad-”
Kristoff leveled a glare at me. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Party pooper,” I muttered, flicking his magazine in an annoyed manner. He just grunted and buried himself in it again.
“ ‘Pooh bear’? I had a boyfriend I used to call my cuddly little Pooh bear. He was a dream,” Magda said, sighing happily at the memory. “Then he met a masseuse, and last I heard they have five kids and are really happy. Oh! I know! ‘Poochikins’!”
I looked at Kristoff and giggled. He glared at the magazine. “I don’t think so, Magda, but thanks for the suggestion. I’ll just have to find something else.”
“ ‘Sugarplum’?”
“Nooo,” I said slowly, regretfully setting the name aside.
“ ‘Sweet cheeks’?”
You do, and you’ll live to regret it.
I laughed out loud. “Pass. But I think I thought of something.”
“You did? What?” she asked.
Do I want to know? Kristoff asked at the same time.
“I think I’ll hold off on saying it out loud for a bit,” I told Magda with a smile.
You’ll find out soon enough, Boo .
He looked at me, the oddest expression on his face. Boo?
Magda grinned back at me. “I totally understand. Now, about Iceland.”
I thought it was appropriate. You scared me silly the first time I saw you. Well, not the first time, but right after that. You know, when you tried to strangle me.
Pia, if I wanted to strangle you, you would have been dead, he answered, looking slightly disconcerted.
What’s wrong? You don’t like ‘Boo’? I think it has kind of a nice ring to it. It’s short and snappy, but not overly syrupy or otherwise embarrassing.
No, it’s not too embarrassing, he said hesitantly. I could feel him shielding something from me.
What is it, then? If you don’t want me to use it, I’ll just have to find something else-
I shudder to think what else you will come up with. If you feel the need to use a nickname for me, and you refuse to use Kris, then I suppose I can live with Boo.
“Pia said you might want Ray and me to go somewhere else.”
But you don’t like it?
“Yes. Andreas and Rowan will expect us to try to shake them, but they will also expect us to head to Italy as soon as possible.”
“Why’s that?” she asked.
“There is a group of reapers in Rome.”
“Gotcha.”
Kristoff?
Reluctance filled my mind. I suppose I’ll have to tell you. Before I was changed, my mother called me Bärchen . It’s German for “little bear.” Your name reminded me of that.
I laughed. I’ll never wrap my tongue around German words, so I’ll go with Boo. Besides, it really is appropriate. You can be very scary when you want to be.
“We go to Rome while you guys go to Iceland to pick up the other reaper and Ulfur the friendly ghost,” Magda said. “I’ll tell Ray when he wakes up. He’s always wanted to go to Rome.”
I smiled, the memory of a laughing young man, handsome and rugged, clad in clothing of more than a hundred years ago, rising to my mind.
“If his damned horse tries to eat my jacket again, there will be hell to pay,” Kristoff said, turning the page of his magazine.
“I kind of liked his horse. . . . Oh, Ray’s awake. I’ll go tell him the good news.”
She toddled off as Kristoff heaved a mental sigh. Only you two would consider having to create false trails in order to throw off Dark Ones, all the while rescuing a hundred-year-old ghost and a murderous reaper, as “good news.”
CHAPTER 8
“Remind me . . .” I hit the floor with a whump , dazed for a moment despite the soft padding Kristoff had assured me would break my fall. Even with that, it took me a moment before I felt my wits returning. “Remind me next time to take a plane instead of a portal.”
Hands grabbed my arms, hauling me to my feet. I leaned against the warm, hard body attached to the hands, breathing in his delicious scent.
“You wanted to use a portal.” Kristoff’s voice rumbled deep in his chest. I let out a sigh of sheer happiness and managed to take a step back from him, just in time to see a body suddenly appear in midair, twisting like a cat as it, too, hit the floor.
“Yeah, I know. I thought it would be quicker and easier to get out of Germany that way, but I’ve changed my mind. Ow.” I rubbed my butt as I eyed the body on the floor next to us.
“Have your light ready,” Kristoff warned as he released me in order to
grab Mattias by the back of his collar.
I nodded, gathering up another small handful of light. Kristoff had warned me that traveling through a portal could well remove the effect of the light-binding on Mattias. “Just one more reason to take a plane.”
Mattias shook his head for a moment, squinting until his eyes focused on me. “Wife!” he said.
That was all I needed to hear. I tossed the light at his head, watching with some amazement as it wrapped itself around him, slowly dissipating into nothing.
The frown that Mattias had donned upon seeing me melted away into a happy grin. “Pia-pooh!”
“Ugh. I had hoped he had forgotten that. Mattias, we’re in Iceland. I want you to do exactly as Kristoff says.”
“I love Iceland!” he cried, delighted. “I love Pia! I love Kristoff!”
“If he tries to hug me again, I’m going to-”
Kristoff didn’t get to finish his threat before Mattias, who was as big as Kristoff, shouted, “Hug time!” and enveloped both of us in a bear hug.
“You just had to say the word, didn’t you?” I said, extricating myself from Mattias’s grip. “Mattias, remember what I said before about inappropriate shows of affection?”
Mattias released Kristoff, a pensive look on his face. “I’m not to kiss you anymore because Kristoff doesn’t like it.”
“That’s right. And?” I prompted.
“And I can’t lick you when he’s looking because it makes you squirm.”
Kristoff eyed me.
“No,” I said hastily. “You can’t lick me at any time because it’s wrong.”
He sighed. “I can’t lick sweet, adorable Pia because it’s wrong. How about him?” He pointed at Kristoff.
“He can lick me if he wants. But that’s neither here nor there.”
“Can I lick her?”
I looked over to my shoulder to where an employee of the portal company we’d used to transport ourselves from Berlin to Reykjavik stood waiting for us. “Judging by the expression on her face, I don’t think she’d enjoy that, no.”
“I want to lick someone,” he said forlornly.
“I know you do,” I said, taking his arm and propelling him toward the door. “I’ll get you an ice-cream cone or a puppy or something lickable later. Right now we have to get going before certain vampires figure out we’re not with Magda and Raymond.”
“They should follow them to Rome before they realize we aren’t with them,” Kristoff said as a form of reassurance as we exited the tiny office that was the portal service in Reykjavik. “You can stop worrying, Pia. I know my brother’s mind.”
“I just hope so. I’m not going to underestimate him again, though. Not after he was waiting for us in Frankfurt. We barely made that train to Berlin. You’re sure he didn’t read your mind to know what we were doing?”
“I’m sure. We do not have a sympathetic connection like that.”
“Hmm. How’s your nose?”
Kristoff’s shoulder twitched. I took his hand, enjoying once again the feeling of his fingers twining through mine. “I told you it wasn’t broken. Andreas wasn’t trying to hurt me, just stop us.”
Mattias, walking behind us on the narrow sidewalk, nudged the back of my shoulder. I ignored him. “I don’t care. I think that was pretty underhanded of him to sock you on the nose just because I roasted his toes a bit.”
Mattias nudged me again, making an unhappy, lost-puppy noise. Exasperated, I stopped.
He held out his hand.
“Oh, for God’s . . . Fine.” I took his hand as well. He beamed at me. “Just so you know, I feel like I’m three years old and being escorted across the road.”
Kristoff, who had been glaring across me to Mattias, donned a familiar martyred expression. “I can’t decide if I would rather have him as he normally is, or this human version of a puppy demanding constant petting.”
“Hugs?” Mattias asked.
“No!” I said quickly, ignoring the looks we were getting as we strolled through town to a nearby car rental agency. “Behave yourself, or you’ll have to take another long nap like you did on the plane.”
“I will behave,” he promised solemnly.
Are you absolutely certain the reapers want him back? Kristoff asked as we entered the car rental place. We could just drop him off somewhere and make our escape.
Kristoff! We can’t do that! He’s like a child in this state, very suggestible and clueless. Anyone could take advantage of him and make him do the most heinous acts without him being aware of it. They could even make him throw himself off the top of one of the fjords.
Only if we’re very lucky.
I gave him a mental glare. He actually smiled into my mind, a warm, tickling sensation that left me silently bemused, watching him as he arranged for a car.
“Ulfur first,” I told him once he had possession of the keys.
“Reaper first, then your spirit.”
“Ulfur has been left alone, and is probably bored out of his mind-”
“And the Dark Ones guarding the reaper could be alerted at any moment that we are in the vicinity.”
I made a little face. He had a point. “All right, but if Ulfur yells at me because we got Kristjana first, I’m totally blaming you.”
Fifteen minutes later we were beetling out of Reykjavik to a town about half an hour away, where the Brotherhood folk had said Kristjana was being held. I looked up from the GPS unit and over to the man who sat beside me, and decided the time had come to get to know him better.
How come you know terms like “blow job”? “Turn left at the next cross street, then a right onto the highway.”
Kristoff shot me a quick glance before returning his gaze to the road. Why shouldn’t I know what a blow job is?
“Pia, Pia, Pia,” Mattias said happily from the backseat.
I sighed. “Nap time, Mattias! You’re tired. Very tired. Go to sleep until I wake you up.”
“All right. I will sleep. You will wake me up. Smoochie?”
Because you were born during the Renaissance, weren’t you? “I’m going to give Magda hell for ever using that word in front of you. No, you do not need a good-night smooch. Go to sleep.”
Yes. Kristoff smiled . That doesn’t mean I hadn’t had a blow job before I met you.
No, of course not, I answered, pushing down a nasty sting of jealousy at the thought of him being so pleasured by any other woman.
The smile deepened.
But it’s an awfully modern term for you to be bandying about. I mean, didn’t you have some other name for it back then? Something euphemistic and romantic?
A soft “Pia, Pia, Pia,” drifted up from the backseat, where Mattias, still firmly in the grip of the mind-altering light-binding, lay with his eyes closed. I felt a momentary pang of guilt at keeping the spell on him, but a memory of his antagonistic tendencies had me brushing away the concern.
Well, there was one phrase I recall being used.
Oh, good. What was it?
The whore’s kiss.
I shot him a glare.
His lips curled a smidgen more. Why did you want to know?
If we’re going to spend the rest of our lives together, I thought it would be nice if we got to know each other better. I’m boring, but you’ve lived centuries. I can only imagine the sorts of things you must have seen.
All I remember is death, disease, and lots of fleas.
I sat back in my seat, disgruntled.
Oh, and one exceptionally talented prostitute in Rome. She had the most amazing muscle control. You would not believe what she could do with a hard-boiled egg.
You know, I’m willing to bet I can guess.
Silence filled the car as we drove through the night. It was starting to get dark now in Iceland during the nights, the endless sun of summer beginning its journey into early fall. I looked out into the darkness, wondering at how much my life had changed since I had first been here.
What is the mortal expression
-“penny for your thoughts”?
Oh, come, now-you may be immortal, but you’ve been around us lesser folk long enough to pick up phrases like “blow job.” I couldn’t help but smile a little at his attempt at mental coyness.
I guarantee you that every male, no matter what form he takes, knows every colloquial phrase for oral sex. Some of us, however, have little to do with the mortal world.
I slid him a glance. “That must make it a bit difficult. Surely you had to interact with humans in order to eat.”
“I seldom fed from mortals. They complicated things too much.”
My heart, as usual, contracted at the oblique reference to his deceased love.
“When I did, I tried to keep the contact at a minimum. It was better for everyone’s sake.”
“Did you . . . er . . . did you . . . you know . . . have sex with everyone you drank from?” I asked, driven by a horrible spurt of jealousy I badly wanted to pretend wasn’t there.
His lips softened into a slight curve. “I told you once before that feeding, to a Dark One, is an intimate act that sometimes involves other aspects of intimacy. It is seldom planned, but sometimes happens.”
Damn him. I ground my teeth a little as we approached the town, trying to cope with my unreasonable need to demand to know just how many times he’d given in to that particular impulse.
You’re jealous, he said with a hint of surprise.
Shut up, I muttered, glaring out of the window at the blackness . I’ve had boyfriends, too, you know.
I know.
Startled, I looked at him.
Alec would have mentioned it if you’d been a virgin.
My mouth dropped open in horror. “You talked to Alec about me? About . . . sex with me?”
“He brought it up,” he answered, negotiating an exit into the town, consulting the GPS unit briefly before taking the appropriate turn.
“You talked about me?” Heat washed upward from my chest. I felt perilously close to tears or a nervous breakdown. I just couldn’t decide which.
“He told me about spending the night with you.” He glanced at me, frowning slightly as we came into a street filled with people streaming into a nightclub. “I didn’t ask for specifics, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
I caught the echo in his mind. “You didn’t have to, did you? He told you everything. Everything! Oh, my God, he told you about me insisting on the light being off?”
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