by Nina Bangs
The thing that bothered her the most? He’d made her hot for him by merely putting his mouth on her neck, while at the same time making her feel more vulnerable than she ever had in her life. For a woman who liked to be in control of herself and the things that touched her, Eric the Evil was a very scary creature.
He leaned forward once again, but Donna didn’t feel threatened this time. Her senses had their doubts, though, and they were taking lots of notes so they could positively ID him in the future. His scent was of wild untamed places, dark steamy nights, and . . . chocolate. Chocolate?
“You may scream now. Holgarth will be sorely fashed that you’ve spent so much time with me and upset his schedule.” He didn’t try to hide the laughter in his voice.
She screamed. Loudly and with lots of enthusiasm.
Then made plans to buy more candy tomorrow. Chocolate.
Dark chocolate.
3
Turning her back to Eric the Evil, Donna riveted her gaze on the darkened steps as the sounds of pounding footsteps grew louder and louder.
“The prince and his faithful warrior rush to your rescue.” His soft voice mocked her. “But mayhap you dinna wish to be rescued.”
Faster, faster. Silently, she urged her rescuers on. They had to get here before . . . Before what? She wasn’t sure.
“Mayhap you wish to lay with me this night while I slide my fingers across your body and learn the many places that give you pleasure.” He was close. Very close.
His nearness touched her with heated awareness, and she couldn’t remember the last time a man had connected with her on such a primal level. Sex with him would be hot and intense, but she could forget about any warm emotional afterglow. Uh-uh, she liked a little more thought to go into her loving. Mindless sex had never been her thing. And sex with a fake vampire? She’d laugh at herself in the morning. Well, maybe not laugh.
Until her champion reached her, she’d have to hold back the night with words. “Wow, what an intro to the Castle of Dark Dreams. Whoever does your makeup should get a raise. Very creepy. And what can I say about your acting? Impressive. You pulled all the right emotional strings. I was scared, confused, and intrigued at the same time. Maybe you could spend a little time with me on the air.” She frowned. “But do you offer to slide your fingers over all the customers? I sort of thought the park was Grated.”
His quiet laughter prickled the back of her neck. “Each person’s experience in the Castle of Dark Dreams differs. I know what crouches in the darkened corners of people’s minds, and I give them what they crave.” He brushed his fingers over her hair. “I know you, Donna Nolan. You believe you must control everything in your life.”
If he moved any closer, his body would be pressed against her back. Amazed, she realized the little frisson she felt wasn’t fear but excitement.
“If we were to mate, you would know what it is to lose all control.” He twirled one strand of her hair around his finger and pulled gently. “And you would gain great pleasure in the discovery.”
Hah, she knew it. A primitive domineering jerk. Probably always had to be on top. Come on, Prince. “Uh-huh. Well, I got a peek at your next customer. I’d rethink your lines. He’s about six five, two eighty, and looks like he wrestles alligators for fun and relaxation. I wouldn’t offer to slide your fingers over any part of him.” Donna breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, goody. Here’s my rescue party.” She edged away from Eric’s sensual circle of influence.
The first man to reach the top of the stairs rattled her almost as much as Eric the Evil. Cripes. He should be rowing a boat across the River Styx. Big, muscular, ferocious. With shaggy dark hair, a hard face, and intense angry eyes, he looked like he’d rather eat her than rescue her. Great, just great. But hey, at least Mr. Congeniality looked kind of medieval: tight-fitting hose encasing strong legs, leather ankle boots, and a knee-length tunic.
Without even glancing her way, he rushed past waving a very big and very real-looking sword. “You’ll not get a chance to sink your wicked fangs into another fair maiden, vampire. I, Sir Conall, will slay you in the name of my prince.”
Donna curled her lips. Eww. Somehow “sink your wicked fangs into” didn’t have the same sensual ring as Eric’s phrasing. She assumed Eric had also produced a sword because she could hear the ring of metal on metal as they fought behind her. She refused to look.
“You dinna think to defeat me with such a puny weapon, do you, warrior?” Eric produced a satisfactorily evil laugh.
“You’ll pay for eating the last piece of candy, Dark One.” Sir Conall’s whisper was fraught with angry promise.
Last piece of candy? Donna blinked. She guessed Sir Conall hadn’t meant her to hear his comment. Kind of took her out of the fantasy.
But she was flung right back into it as the final player joined their little group. He paused at the top of the stairs, and Donna could only gape.
He was simply the most spectacular man she’d ever seen. He’d pulled his hair back from his face and secured it at the nape of his neck. Loose, it would probably fall a little past his broad shoulders. Color? When was blond more than blond? It was old gold shading to warm honey, softened in the candle’s dim glow. Yet the whole effect wasn’t soft, as in weak. It was sensual. There was no other word for that color. But it was his face that drew her unblinking stare—firm jaw, full lower lip, and wide-spaced eyes that even from where she stood promised breathtaking. Can we say perfect?
Then why wasn’t she dissolving into an embarrassing puddle of want? Why was she tempted instead to turn around to get a last glimpse of her dark tormentor? Everything about Eric the Evil was intense light-absorbing black.
Prince Perfect, wearing a white flowing robe edged in gold, would carry her back to the safety of the light. Then why did a part of her she didn’t recognize wonder what it would be like to remain in the shadows with the darkly erotic vampire?
She shook her head to rid it of all random stupid thoughts, and then waited for the prince to stride over to her. “Prince Brynn, I presume?”
He smiled at her, and she resisted the urge to shield her eyes from the glory of that perfect mouth and those perfect teeth. It would take a supremely confident woman to date a guy who looked like the prince. Who wanted to be invisible?
“Ah, the beauteous Maid Donna.” The prince bowed slightly.
Donna narrowed her eyes at the hint of mockery in his deep voice. “Doesn’t roll off the tongue quite like Maid Marian, does it? Wait, that was Robin Hood. Sorry, wrong legend.” Sheesh, couldn’t the powers that be have cut the rest of humanity a break and given him a high reedy voice?
At least his laughter sounded sincere. “While the battle rages between the forces of good and evil, let us be gone.”
She didn’t have time to ponder how they would “be gone.” He leaned over, scooped her up in his arms, and carried her down the steps. Donna squeaked her alarm and then clung to his shoulders.
For the first time she got a good look at his eyes. Whiskey-colored with a dash of gold, his eyes should’ve been a perfect fit for the rest of Prince Brynn. They weren’t. She sensed darkness behind those beautiful eyes. A remembered line drifted through her mind: “Something wicked this way comes.”
Donna hoped he didn’t notice her involuntary shiver as he carried her into the great hall and set her on her feet. She needed a good night’s sleep to get rid of all her weird feelings about this fantasy. Maybe she wouldn’t do any eye-rolling the next time one of the pod women called her show.
She turned away from Prince Brynn in search of Holgarth and a key to her room, but the prince clasped her hand to stop her. “Wait. I must make the announcement so all can celebrate.”
Oh, for heaven’s . . . All she wanted to do was crash and forget about everything for about eight hours. Fine, so the truth was that since Eric had probably been dispatched by Conall the Vampire Slayer by now, the fantasy had lost its zing.
Prince Brynn held up his hand and everyone grew si
lent. The king and queen, assorted lords and ladies, and an army of loyal servants waited expectantly. “Let us raise our glasses in celebration. I have rescued Maid Donna.” Cheers filled the hall.
Yeah, yeah. Donna finally spotted Holgarth. He was staring at his watch. Ken and Franco were still nowhere in sight.
“And I have slain the Dark One who has plagued the kingdom.” Sir Conall strode to the side of the prince. “Let us raise our glasses to the freeing of our kingdom from Eric the Evil.”
She understood the meaning of the “Dark Ages” now. Because with all the drinking to celebrate rescues of fair maidens and slayings of dragons, vampires, and other scary whatevers, the local folk must’ve spent most of their time facedown on the great hall floor.
“Your beauty is only exceeded by your ability to destroy my schedule, Maid Donna.” Holgarth had found her. “Of course, I have too much breeding to ask what could have possibly made you linger with Eric the Evil. The only acceptable explanation would be that you found him so loathsome you fainted.”
“I don’t faint, and actually he was pretty hot.” Who would’ve guessed? She had a mean streak. She felt absolutely gleeful at the thought of irritating Holgarth.
He raised one narrow brow that expressed without words his contempt for her. Very cool. Maybe he’d show her how to do that.
“Admirable.” Translation: Slut. “I’m confident you could have ripped the vampire’s heart out with no help from Sir Conall. You would never need a hero to rescue you.” Translation: Amazon.
Holgarth’s talent awed Donna. He could insult her with a carefully crafted phrase or a meaningful tic of his eyelid. “Why don’t you show me to my room. I’m tired of trading barbs with you.”
After casting a worried glance to where the next fantasy was being set up, he hurried her toward a closed door in the back of the great hall. The door led to a large lobby. A quick glance assured her there were the usual array of gift shops, a restaurant, and a bookstore. All made to look like castle chambers. The hotel’s check-in counter had a few people in line. There was an elevator at each end of the gallery along with two staircases. People still streamed in from the night through the massive authentic-looking doors. Ancient and modern lived in uneasy coexistence in this part of the castle.
“You’ll find a complete list in your room of when things open and close. Our fantasies begin at eight each night and the restaurant opens at noon. The castle has four elevators, one at each corner. They lead to the guests’ rooms on the second and third floors and the towers. If you feel the need for exercise, the stairs are available.” He seemed in a hurry to get rid of her as he pushed the Up button for the nearest elevator.
She didn’t want to talk with him anymore tonight, either, but curiosity was an important aspect of her job. “Where do you end up if you press the down button?”
Holgarth looked at her with what could only be relish. “In the dark, dank dungeon where curious maidens have been known to perish.”
“Why am I not surprised?” What was it with this guy? Question: Could she survive the week without flattening his pointed hat or breaking his wand in half? “I want the answers to two questions. If I don’t get them, I might just tag around after you for the rest of the night interfering with your schedule.”
He pressed his thin lips together before nodding.
“First, who’s the owner’s attorney? My boss said all communication with the park’s owner has to go through his mouthpiece.” Donna hoped she wouldn’t have any problems that Eric, Brynn, or Conall couldn’t solve, but you never knew. If this whole trip hadn’t been so rushed, she would’ve remembered to get the lawyer’s name from her boss. “Second, why don’t you like me?”
Holgarth offered her a wintry smile. “I am the owner’s lawyer, and I assure you I am no one’s mouthpiece, madam. And I don’t dislike you. I find you a bit of a nuisance, like a gnat, but perhaps you’ll provide a few entertaining moments.” He glanced toward the door leading to the great hall as a shout went up.
Talk about being damned by faint praise. “You’re the lawyer? And you moonlight as a wizard? Hey, makes perfect sense to me.” She must’ve fallen through the rabbit hole when she wasn’t looking.
“The owner compensates me well for my efforts, and I have a warm and fuzzy proprietary feeling toward the old place. How better to make sure problems are addressed immediately than by being here when they arrive?” He stared down his long nose at her, assuring her that, yes, he was speaking about her.
Old fart. She exhaled wearily. Okay, that was mean. “Look, give me my key, and I’ll find my room by myself. I bet they need you in the great hall. Maybe one of the extras celebrated the vampire slaying a little too heartily, fell off his chair, and bumped his head. Sounds like a lawsuit waiting to happen to me. Better check into it.”
For a nanosecond Donna almost imagined she saw a gleam of real amusement in Holgarth’s sharp eyes.
“They’re holding your key at the check-in counter. This elevator will take you to the top of the tower. We’ve put you in the Wicked Nights room. You should be very comfortable there. I had someone take your bags up. If you wish anything else, please let the staff know.” He started to turn away, then paused. “I noticed you referred to the owner as he. Since the owner has chosen to remain anonymous, one doesn’t really know, does one?” A chuckle trailed after him as he returned to the great hall.
Donna picked up her key and returned to the elevator. She was trying to judge the exact degree of malevolence in Holgarth’s chuckle as she stepped into the elevator and pushed the button for the top floor of the tower. By the time she got off the elevator, she’d decided she really needed that night’s sleep before passing judgment on the Castle of Dark Dreams. Things wouldn’t seem so weird in the cheery light of day.
She glanced around, but there wasn’t much to see. Only two rooms on the floor. A metal nameplate beside the door identified her room: Wicked Nights. Too bad it wouldn’t live up to its name. The ever-present wall sconces lit the hall area, and opposite the elevator was the stairs. Authentically medieval-looking, of course.
Donna slipped the old-fashioned key into the lock and then paused. Were those footsteps coming up the stairs? She resisted the urge to fling open her door, rush inside, slam the door shut on whatever horror was coming up the steps, and then bury her head under the bedcovers. This damned castle brought out the five-year-old in her.
Instead, she waited. It was probably the person staying in the room across from hers. Notafraidnotafraid. A large silhouette emerged from the stairwell gloom. Afraid. Her fingers felt like they had frozen to the key, and she couldn’t have turned it if her life depended on it. Poor phrasing, Nolan.
The silhouette resolved itself into a flesh-and-blood man as he stepped out of the shadows. “You can relax. I’ve put my fangs away until the next fantasy.”
That voice. That deep, husky, have-sex-with-me-if-you-dare voice. “What happened to your Scottish burr?” She turned the key in the lock and nudged the door open just in case she needed to put a solid barrier between herself and Eric McNair. Relax? Her instincts thought not.
“I only use it when I become vampire. It’s a nod to my Highland roots.” He moved closer. “I hunted you down because Ken and Franco wanted me to tell you they were looking the park over and would see you tomorrow.”
Hunted you down. As she stared up at his shadowed face, she knew the phrase fit him, in human or vampire form. “Predator” was a soft hiss of truth in her mind. She accepted the truth without questioning, when she rarely accepted anything without solid proof.
“Thanks for taking the time to pass on the message. Maybe tomorrow we can get together over lunch. I’d love to hear some inside stories about the castle to share with my listeners.” She was babbling. Men never made her babble, and yet he seemed able to do it at will. And he did it by just being. An interesting phenomenon she’d love to explore if she could get past the babbling stage. Offering him the universally understood h
uge yawn of dismissal, she pushed the door open and stepped into her room.
He stepped in behind her and switched on the nearest light. “I won’t be around for lunch tomorrow. We can talk now. It won’t take long.” He walked past her and turned on the other lamps in the room.
“Gee, and here I thought vampires couldn’t enter a room without an invitation.” Donna’s sarcastic-bitch voice usually did the trick, but she wasn’t sure it would work on him.
“This used to be my room before I decided to move . . . elsewhere. It remembers me.” Instead of choosing one of several chairs, he sat on the massive bed that dominated the room. Or maybe it just seemed to dominate the room because he was sitting on it. He turned his head to meet her gaze directly, and for the first time the lamp’s glow revealed his face. “The same way you’ll remember me, Donna Nolan.”
If Donna could’ve formed the words, she would’ve peppered him with them, and they all would’ve been synonyms for arrogant. But no matter what words she might have thrown at him, they wouldn’t have changed the fact that he was right. No woman would ever forget this man.
In the radio industry, where words painted the picture, she’d describe Eric McNair as ruthless beauty. A strong jaw, well-defined cheekbones, a sensual mouth that promised soft seduction, and deep blue eyes that should warm with passion. A dark slash of brows and long dark lashes to frame those eyes completed a face that would live in every woman’s memory.
But Donna was good at what she did because she sensed what was going on beneath the surface noise. She listened not only to what a caller said, but also to what he didn’t say. The unspoken was often the truth, and she asked her questions accordingly.