“That’s quite impressive,” she purred.
His eyes snapped open, burning her in their intensity.
She blinked and suddenly felt the warm water falling over her skin. He had transported them into the black-tiled Vichy shower in his bathroom. Five separate showerheads cascaded water over them from all directions like a waterfall, encasing them in warm decadent wetness. It was glorious. It felt divine. And the best part was—he was right beside her. She shivered, not from cold, but from the absolute rightness of feeling him so close.
“I believe you requested a bath.” He stared intently at her, his mouth begging to be kissed. He pressed a gentle kiss to her mouth, his fingers threading through her wet hair as he massaged the shampoo into a fragrant lather that trailed over her shoulders and down her back in a ticklish counterpoint to the blazing heat in his gaze.
“Mmm, that feels fantastic,” she murmured.
He chuckled, the sound of a man thoroughly enjoying himself. She was perfection beneath his fingers, all soft skin and sensual curves. He followed the lather with his hands, slippery and smooth as they caressed her uptilted breasts and slid down over her dainty ribs, coming to rest over the flair of her hips. She was fragile and powerful all at once, making everything within him twist and turn in a desire to suit her every whim. He pulled her toward him, her breasts sliding against his bare chest, her hips cradling his hard length. Saints, she’d be just as slick inside.
He bent low, kissing, tasting her, his fangs scraping slightly against her lips. Gliding on her wet skin, his hands slid around the curve of her derriere to cup her searing hot flesh in his hands. She parted, opening for him. Her arousal saturated the steam around them, surrounding him so thoroughly that all he could think of was her, the center of his known universe. She filled his mind, drew every sense to balance on a razor’s edge.
“Without a doubt you are a force to be reckoned with.”
She panted. “That’s romantic?”
“No, it means you’re sexy as hell.” With deliberate slowness he edged his fingers into the wetness of her, teasing her, reveling in every small pant and groan he elicited from her. Hot and fierce need pounded at him, demanding he take her. He held it back, waiting for her.
Beneath her lashes, a shot of white-hot lightning lit her eyes and a devilish smile curved her lips. Her hands grasped him, slid him down across her wet belly, between her slick thighs. It was the ultimate torture, the ultimate bliss. She drew him into her like a breath, consuming, needy, vital to her next heartbeat, and shuddered.
“Oh, God, you feel good. Don’t stop, Dmitri.”
The silken glove tightened as she bucked against him. Unable to hold back any longer he drove home, lifting her up into his arms, pressing her against the cool tiles as her legs wound around his waist. She shattered in his arms, her body undone by a series of small tremors that rocked him to the very center of his empty soul, calling him to join her. And he willingly followed her over the edge, growling her name.
Trejan. Why are you not here? Roman’s voice scraped like a scalpel, deep and unwelcome.
No, dammit. Not now. Not ever.
I will be there as soon as I am able. He glanced down at her as she lay her head against his chest, her breathing still faster than normal, but slowing gradually. Her heartbeat echoed loud and enticing, shushing just below her skin in a cinnamon-scented confection that made his mouth water and fangs ache. But more than he craved a drink, he craved more time with her. At this moment he didn’t give a damn what Roman wanted. All Dmitri wanted, all he needed, was the woman in his arms.
She sat at Dmitri’s kitchen table, head in her hands, staring at the hand-written notes she’d made. Looking at the computer screen still hurt too much, even though she’d lowered the brightness and contrast. And who could focus anyway after the man giving you the most amazing sex of your life suddenly vaporized with nothing more than a kiss and a whispered promise that he’d be back soon?
What was far worse than feeling like a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am was the deep-down sensation that this wasn’t just lust roaring through her system at warp speed. Dmitri touched her deeper than that. He’d somehow wormed his way into her very heart.
Dad had been right. She’d gone and screwed up all her fine objective reporting by falling in love with Dmitri.
Her cell rang and Beck’s number came up on the caller ID.
“Hey, Beck.”
“I tried calling you at home and didn’t get an answer.”
“Yeah, I haven’t been there much.”
“I’ve got your results. You want the good news or the bad news?”
“Which is worse?”
“Probably the good news.”
Kristin winced. “Ouch.”
“Yeah. Good news is you’re right. The stuff is some kind of blood by-product that’s been mutated somehow by a virus that’s prevalent in the sample.”
Kristin tensed. What if she now had the virus swimming around inside her after her stint under Zarah’s care at the vampire clinic? She shoved the thought aside, forcing herself to focus on what Beck was saying. “So you think the virus causes the change in blood?”
She grimaced as Beck flipped through papers as she talked. “Bingo. At least that’s what the results are showing me. It seems to have regenerative abilities when combined with human blood, but in the proper ratio can overtake it and mutate it all into the viral form.”
The shushing sound in her ears grew louder as her heart pounded against her ribs. “Wait. Are you telling me vampirism is caused by a virus?” A virus that was even now circulating inside her?
“I’m just giving you my preliminary test results. That assumption is inconclusive until it’s tested thoroughly on some subjects, but theoretically speaking, yes. It’s a virus that causes the mutation.”
Kristin choked on her own saliva and launched into a coughing fit. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” she gasped. “Just swallowed down the wrong pipe.” She took in a deep gulp of air.
“What about the DNA?”
“That’s the bad news.”
Kristin’s vision started to shimmer with black sparkles around the edges.
“I cross-matched the DNA from the ichor with another sample I was working on. It also has the same viral signature.”
An unnatural skittering sensation crept up her neck, telling Kristin this was bad. Not just bad, but the worst-case scenario. But her reporter gut told her to find out what it was, regardless. “Where did you get that sample?”
“Police forensics. Seems whoever tapped off this little black bottle also had a hand in at least one of the Bloodless Murders, possibly more. The saliva sample they scraped out of one of the bodies turns out to be some kind of venom that can liquefy human flesh, just like a flesh-eating bacteria or spider bite. This is some seriously nasty stuff you’re wading around in.”
Dear God. Whoever had given that vial to Dmitri was involved in the Bloodless Murders, which meant that whoever he was, he was close to Dmitri, and Dmitri didn’t even know it. Either that, or Dmitri had known all along and he’d been lying to her about the reivers being the murderers to protect someone close to him, perhaps even himself.
Her heart, which moments ago had been so full and near bursting, now shriveled at the thought that he may have betrayed her. Used his supernatural sexy amazingness to keep her off the track of the real killers. Why did she keep putting her trust in the man? God knows, he bent her inside out. “Anything else?”
“Yeah. You need to be careful.”
Considering that she’d just been blown to hell and back by a car bomb, the advice was well founded. “I will.”
“I’m serious, Kris. If this virus gets out into the blood supply, there’s no telling how many people are going to turn into those bloodsuckers and not even realize it’s happening. The consequences could be disastrous.”
For a moment she had second thoughts about telling Beck about the ichor treatment she’d received.
What would happen if Beck freaked out?
“You know, it’s not as bad as all that.”
“What? Are you hearing yourself? It’s a virus. Who knows what it can do.”
“Actually …”
Beck sucked in a startled breath. “Oh, no, oh, hell no. Please tell me you haven’t used any of it.”
Kristin sighed heavily. “It wasn’t like I had a choice. I was in a pretty bad accident.”
In the background a chair crashed to the floor, probably as Beck stood up too fast. “What! Why didn’t you say anything? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. That’s the amazing part. That vamp doctor wasn’t kidding, Beck. The stuff this ichor can heal is pretty amazing.”
“How bad was it? Are you suffering from any side effects?”
“You mean like a craving for an extra-rare steak?” “Exactly.”
She laughed at Beck’s serious demeanor. “Beck, I’m fine. I had broken bones, a punctured lung—”
“Oh my God. That’s not fine, that’s critical!” “Yeah, but that was less than forty-eight hours ago. Now it looks like nothing even happened to me.”
A heavy silence stretched between them.
“Beck, you still here?”
“Wow,” Beck said, clearly stunned.
“Know how there’s a black and white to everything? I think this is the bright side to this ichor.”
“But how do you know you won’t become a vampire from it?”
Kristin shrugged. “I don’t. Not really. Dmitri and the doctor both said there’s more to it than just a treatment and that my immune system will break it down and get rid of it eventually.”
“But you’ve got it in you at the moment?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you think you could come in and give me some blood?”
Kristin snorted. “Now you sound like a vampire, Beck.”
Beck groaned at her attempt at humor. “This is for science, so please don’t compare the two.”
Deep down, Kristin realized that Beck’s quest for knowledge would override any squeamishness she had about vampires.
“Let me see what I can do.”
Chapter 13
With plans set to meet Beck later at Sangria, Kristin called Hollander. She could practically feel his hot breath on the back of her neck. He was going to swallow his freaking tongue when she told him this latest development.
“Are you putting me on?” Hollander asked, his tone wary, but underscored with excitement.
“No shit?”
Kristin grinned. “You heard it here first. Vampirism is caused not by a vampire bite as everyone has been led to believe by Hollywood, but by a virus. Not only that, but I have lab evidence of a DNA connection directly to the Bloodless Murders.” Damn, she was good. Better than good. Pulitzer good.
“Great job, Reed.” He sounded as pumped as Kristin felt. “Get me your article ASAP. I’ll stop the presses and have this run in the morning edi—”
Her elation had the lifespan of a mayfly. “No can do. We can’t run it until I can get more concrete details on who’s behind the DNA connection to the Bloodless Murders.”
“What? You can’t seriously expect me to sit on something this big.” She heard a pencil snap between his meaty fingers, then another. Hollander broke a hell of a lot of pencils when he was pissed.
“No. I repeat, hell no, Reed. What if someone else snatches it from under us?” She could picture his face turning that particular shade of purplish-red that happened right before she thought he might pass out from hypertension.
She felt for him, she really did. This wasn’t the way she wanted to play it either. “Trust me, there’s no chance of that happening. I don’t want anyone challenging my sources or doubting my facts. Not until I’m one hundred percent positive I have all my ducks in a row.”
“Settle for ninety percent, and your ducks in the same city block. I want this story, Reed, and I want it now.”
That made two of them. “Let me get solid leads on who’s behind it first. If we run the piece now, there’s every chance the person will disappear and I’ll never learn what’s really going on. I can write up the part I know about the virus, but not the Bloodless Murder connection just yet.”
“We’ve run stories on less.” Another pencil snapped, and he was talking through clenched teeth.
“Nothing of this magnitude.” Nothing that would earn the reporter a Pulitzer. “Be patient,” Kristin told him soothingly. Like that would ever happen. “A day or two more at the most. Then you can put it to bed.”
“Twenty-four hours.”
“Forty-eight.”
“Twenty-four and not a second longer.”
Which was what she’d hoped he’d say. Hollander hung up on her and the dial tone drilled all the way through her brain.
Twenty-four hours. That wasn’t a lot of time to find out exactly what was up with the ichor at Sangria, who it had come from and what was being done with it. What made the waiting worse was that she was still sitting in Dmitri’s apartment, envisioning the inevitable confrontation between them. It made her jittery as hell.
She didn’t bother to turn on the lights. The computer lit up the room enough for her heightened sense of sight. Just how long were the side effects of the ichor treatment supposed to last? She wished she knew. She hadn’t wanted to get too into it with Beck. Visions of becoming Beck’s guinea pig, poked and prodded with needles in a test-tube hell, flitted across her mind.
When Dmitri finally came home in the wee hours of the morning he didn’t bother coming through the door. Instead, an instant before he transported into the living room, the small hairs on her body all rose to attention as though she’d raised a supercharge of static electricity and was just waiting for something to set it off with a snap. In this case that wasn’t too far from the truth as Dmitri was a trigger for just about everything for her. And that was before the ichor. The aftereffects of the treatment only made everything more acute.
The smoky appearance knitted into solid matter and a moment later he was standing there staring at her with those dark eyes that made everything within her sit up and take notice.
“I thought you’d still be sleeping,” he said as he phased away his tailored jacket, leaving his white shirt, which was not as crisp or neat as it normally was. He undid the top three buttons, revealing the dark V of his throat and making Kristin ache to touch him. Her gaze drifted down. Just thinking about his killer abs and the dark hair that trailed down beneath the edge of his waistband made a tingle spread like wildfire through her, heating up all her erogenous zones and putting them on high alert.
Down, girl. Focus on the story. Focus on getting the facts.
She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Busy day at the office?” she gibed. She tried to keep things light, but she didn’t know where he’d been or what he’d been doing since he’d left her.
His half-tilted smile slid straight to her heart, making it double bump thump. God, he was gorgeous. Kristin clenched her hand, her fingernails pressing small crescents deep into her palm. He was also holding out on her, she sternly reminded her libido.
“We need to talk,” she said with no preamble.
His eyes narrowed. “Why does that sound like something dangerous?”
“I want to know the truth about the ichor I found in your cabinet at Sangria. Whose is it?”
His brows bent into a deep V. “I suspected you’d stolen it.” Dmitri unbuttoned his cuffs and began rolling them upward, exposing thickly muscled forearms. Kristin’s attention wavered and her temperature rose. Actually having seen Dmitri in the buff made just looking at him fully clothed an erotic experience.
She worried her bottom lip with her teeth. Her ramped-up response to him was tempered with the knowledge that she’d abused his trust by taking the ichor without his consent and having it tested behind his back. But she’d been desperate to understand how it worked, especially now that it was circulating in her system. She was ho
ping against hope that he’d be understanding instead of insanely pissed. Of course, he had every right to be, but she crossed her fingers behind her back all the same.
He caught her staring at him. “So, are you going to explain why you stole it?”
His even tone agitated the guilt already churning in her chest. Her stomach shriveled into a tight, hard knot. Apologies were in order. “I’m sorry for taking it without asking, but I had to know what was actually in it so I could understand it for the article. How big an infraction was taking it? Was that ichor designated for someone in particular? Oh, God, Dmitri, tell me you didn’t need it for medical reasons!”
He pinned her with a serious look. “Luckily for you that isn’t the case. You could have asked me. I would have let you take a vial for testing or you could have asked Zarah. Either way, I expect you not to go behind my back again for your investigations. The situation is too dangerous. Are we clear?”
She nodded, but couldn’t stop herself from blurting, “Where do you get it from? Why do you even have it?”
His eyes turned smoky and he moved away from her toward the wet bar. “Zarah provided me with a small amount of recreational ichor for our customers. I’m not certain whom she procured it from and I don’t approve. But I’ve been overridden by the council who say the quantity is not enough to cause a spontaneous conversion process.” He poured himself a glass of brandy and swirled the deep amber liquid. The sharp sweetness of the liquor blended with the dark chocolate and citrus scent that seem to fill the room whenever he was around.
Kristin swallowed hard. Everything about him shouted sex, but he was cool and reserved and standing across the room as if she somehow smelled bad. It completely confused the hell out of her, especially when she was fighting her own desire to touch him. All if it combined to tie her tongue in knots. “Well, you shouldn’t be. Overridden, that is. There’s a virus in it, Dmitri. Were you aware of that? It causes people to become vampires.”
He twirled the liquid in his glass, his gaze unreadable. “Sometimes.”
She rubbed her arms, trying to stave off the chill that seemed to be growing in the room and the strange sensation that her skin was getting tighter. “Look, I’ve got this vampire blood circulating through my system and I’ve just found out that there’s a virus in it that could potentially cause me to turn into a vampire. Define sometimes.”
The Truth about Vampires Page 15