FrostBite

by Claire Marta

The Porsche sped down the Avenue Anatole, the roar of his engine drawing attention.

  Police cars were everywhere, their flashing lights bright in the darkness. They were holding people back with a cordon a good distance from the tower itself.

  After swinging the car up onto the pavement, Eric was already leaping out as he killed the engine. The snow whirled around him as he moved.

  A group of policemen dashed their way. They were pointing at the car, their voices raised angrily. A few of them had hands resting on the top of their holstered guns. They weren’t happy. That was clear.

  Jasmine slid out of the car but stayed beside it. She did not have to worry, though. A few curt words from the vampire and the men backed off. Their body language changed from aggressive to nervous.

  Looking over his shoulder at her, Eric nudged his chin in the direction of another group of men. Realising he wanted her to follow, she moved around the car. The snow crunched under their feet as they hurried along.

  A few flakes landed on Jasmine’s eyelashes, making her blink. Using her hand she wiped them away. The night was cold, almost chilling to the bone. She couldn’t help the shiver that rippled through her. She pulled the zipper on her jacket up as high as it would go and followed the vampire.

  Eric was soon in a deep conversation with the man in charge. French flowed off his tongue smooth and flawless. A couple of times Jasmine felt the subtle tingle of persuasion leave the vampire's lips. Whatever he was saying, he was making sure he got what he wanted. With a power like Eric had, she doubted anyone ever denied him.

  The man nodded at Eric.

  “Come, Jasmine.”

  The vampire’s deep, familiar baritone washed over her.

  Startled, she raised her eyes. Standing before her, his features were grim and cold. A hand gripped her arm. Before she could even blink, Eric was steering her quickly forwards. Their legs ate up the distance as they crossed the open area. The sounds behind them began to lessen and dim. Jasmine was pretty sure she could feel the eyes of the policemen on her back. They had to be wondering who she was. It had to look strange with just the two of them. What cover story had the vampire used? What velvety lie?

  Jasmine found she was too nervous to ask. Her tongue felt heavy in mouth. Heart thudding wildly in her chest, she tried to breathe through her fear.

  Could they get to the bomb in time? What if they couldn’t disarm it? Did they even have a fucking plan?

  “What the fuck are we going to do with the bomb when we get it?” she said, unable to hide the hint of fear.

  “Are you nervous again, kitten?” Eric asked with a laugh.

  “We’re about to face a bomb on the Eiffel Tower. What the fuck do you think?” Jasmine released a long breath through clenched teeth. “We are fucking insane.”

  A large, warm hand suddenly slid over hers. Eric laced her fingers with his until he was holding her hand.

  “I have had some training with bomb disarming. If all else fails, we shall wing it.”

  That stopped her in her tracks. “Wing it?”

  The vampire continued their progress by tugging her along.

  “Yes, I believe that is the correct term.”

  Jasmine rolled her eyes. Wing it. Their doom sounded like it was already tolling somewhere in her head.

  Eric glanced at his watch. “We have an hour until midnight. Plenty of time.”

  The magnificent wrought iron tower soared above them in its entire splendour.

  “We cannot risk the lift,” Eric muttered. “It shall have to be the stairs.”

  Jasmine's heart lurched in her chest. She knew the monument was almost the same height as an eighty-one storey building. Did he expect them to use the stairs the entire way up?

  Eric seemed to sense her hesitation. He flashed a look of impatience. “We do not have time for second thoughts Jasmine. You are the only one who can sense the device.”

  Swallowing down her trepidation, she trailed him to the stairwell. Eric began a swift ascent, not looking back to see if she followed.

  Closing a hand over the cold metal railing, Jasmine began to take the steps as quickly as she could. It was eerily silent and still. Everything seemed surreal. The snow seemed to mute everything around her.

  Glancing up, she realised the vampire had already disappeared. She hadn’t realised he could move so fast. Trying to hurry she found the stairs zigzagged back and forth. They seemed endless, but she tried to keep up an even pace. Her foot tread sounded ominously loud.

  The tower’s golden illuminations—their dazzling brilliance bright in the inky blackness of the night—that lit her way.

  She stopped to try to catch her breath. Jasmine knew she was not in terrible shape. She ran every day and her boss made sure they were all physically fit. Obviously not as fit as she thought; Eric was no doubt already at the bloody top with his vampiric speed. Swearing under her breath, she began to climb again. She had to reach the top. People were depending on her.

  The snow was falling in a steady, thicker flurry now. A bitter wind was blowing and nipping at her numbing face.

  Something was buzzing against her sixth sense. Like a lazy bee trying to get her attention. It was faintly familiar magic and Jasmine was sure it was Twitch. The little crackle licked the inside of her brain. It had to be the spell he’d attached to the device so she could sense it. The bomb was somewhere here. Taking a breath she focused her senses.

  Remembering Eric’s lesson, she tried to centre herself as she climbed. It only took a second for the mage’s magic to draw her higher. Tilting her chin, Jasmine gazed upwards. The bomb was up. Way up.

  Maybe Eric had already found it? She could see no sign of the vamp.

  Peeking down through the mesh fencing, she could see the darkness below. In the day, it would be filled with eager tourists waiting to make their way up. No sound could be heard apart from her footfall on each metal step. By the time she reached the first platform, her legs were burning. Pausing, she tried to steady her breathing. The stairs rose upwards into the open area. Cautiously Jasmine poked her head up and peered through the yellow railing around it.

  Her eyes scanned the zone, which was bathed in the soft glow of the lights. A larger space than she had imagined. Half was sheltered, the other open. She caught a glimpse of photographs, posters, walkways, and staircases.

  If Marcel had planted the bomb, would he have left it guard? Stealthily as she could, she eased around the wall.

  Nothing moved. The snow fluttered down silently. It had started to cover the open space in a fine, white layer. Eric was nowhere to be seen.

  Jasmine frowned. Where the hell was he? Weren’t they supposed to be working together? Was he already at the top?

  Glancing upwards, she could see the rest of the tower stretching ominously above. Its metal beams and girders eerily reminded her of a giant spider web. She knew she did not have time to search the whole expansive area. All her senses were calling her higher. Jasmine was thankful for that at least. The bomb was somewhere above.

  A faint noise teased her ears. Everything was muffled, though, because of the snow. Cocking her head, she recognised the sound of footsteps. They were from somewhere behind.

  Scurrying forwards, trying not to fall, she slid quickly behind a thick metal support beam.

  Moments later three men made their way lightly up from the stairwell, from the way she had come. They must have been waiting hidden down below, she realised. Had they been waiting for them?

  Jasmine instantly recognized Pierre, the arms dealer bodyguard. The other two were probably also his goons. Eyes dropping to their hands, she could see the guns they held.

  She swore inwardly. Eric had disappeared and left her. All she had was the knife on her belt. Against guns, this was not an even match. How was she supposed to defend herself now?

  The men were speaking in low hushed voices. Jasmine could not make out what they were saying as her French sucked. Still, she was pretty certain it was probably to kill
them on sight if they were spotted.

  The goons moved closer. Jasmine realised she had nowhere to go. If she moved now she was going to be seen. When that happened she was screwed. Flattening herself against the frigid metal, she prayed they would just move on. If she kept quiet enough, maybe they wouldn’t do a search.

  The temperature abruptly dropped a few more degrees. It was like the air suddenly became arctic. A shiver rolled through her.

  *

  Eric watched the dangerous males hasten nearer to where Jasmine was hiding. Snowflakes brushed against his face. They settled on his eyelashes and in his hair. He didn't mind the cold, and in fact, it was his very essence, his power. It lived deep within his immortal body as if it were a living breathing part of him.

  He had the perfect vantage point from where he sat up high. Any moment now she would be spotted. He could never allow that. His protective instincts kicked into high gear.

  Letting his powers rise, he let the coldness free. When the little female shivered, he knew she had felt it. A sea of translucent ice spread rapidly across the expansive floor, coating the surface like a frozen, glittering lake.

  As the bitter wind whipped his coat around him, Eric drew upon it. The falling snow lashed sideways as it became a gale. He breathed it in, held it deep. The elements swayed, bending to the very force of his will.

  Swearing, the men took its brunt. Temporarily blinded, they did not see the danger before them. Like newborn foals, their legs went in different directions when their feet hit the sheet of ice. It was almost amusing to watch them panic. Their arms flailed as they tried to regain balance. And still Eric kept the snow and the wind slicing into them. He let them taste its frigid power, its icy wrath.

  He knew he could not keep it up forever. They would need to be dealt with. They still held guns tightly in their hands. One stray bullet was all it would take to hurt the girl.

  *

  Wide-eyed, Jasmine stared at the men as they slipped and slid across the floor. Pressing her lips together she tried not to laugh. It was comical. Their confusion was written across their faces. Pierre’s eyes were practically bulging from his head. They didn’t seem to know what was going on.

  Eric was close. She could feel his power in the snarling arctic wind and driven snow as it beat down upon the men. The kiss of its icy touch caressed her numb cheeks and the tip of her nose. It was so distracting she found herself leaning into it, as if it were a physical stroke.

  Pierre managed to find his feet. Eyes narrowed, he spotted her at the same moment.

  “Come here, you little bitch,” he roared, launching himself towards her. The sound snapped Jasmine's attention back.

  He was already off the icy floor. Murder burned in his hard eyes. Pierre was going to kill her.

  Racing away from the metal support beam, she bolted towards some stairs.

  The loud crack of a gunshot rang out behind.

  As Jasmine's heart nearly stopped in her chest, it took her a second to realised he had missed. Adrenaline was already pumping erratically through her veins. Breathing hard, she did not stop moving.

  As she reached the stairs, something large and heavy smashed into her back. A shriek of surprise left her lips. The blow sent her tumbling forwards. Knees hitting the metal steps painfully hard, she grunted from the impact.

  Without warning a hand grabbed the back of her head. Fingers sank cruelly into her short, red hair and a yank forced her back. She winced. The action brought tears of pain to her eyes.

  “Did you really think you could get away, you little whore?” Pierre muttered harshly against her ear. His hot stinking breath burned against her cheek.

  Her hand moved jerkily to the knife at her hip. Its hilt was a reassuring pressure against her palm. As Jasmine tensed to move, she felt the barrel of his gun press between her shoulder blades. She froze.

  Pierre released his grip on her hair, and his hand moved down her shoulder. It slid over her leather jacket until he was cupping her breast, protected by the layers of her clothes. He squeezed hard, fingers digging as deep as they could.

  Panic threatened to swallow her whole. A shudder of revulsion rocked through her. Her fingers curled around the knife hilt. She wasn’t going to let Pierre have his way with her. She would rather chance a bullet.

  A second later, she was free.

  Swallowing hard, Jasmine crumpled forwards. Hands and knees resting on the coldness of the metal steps, she turned her head.

  Eric had the bodyguard. One hand wrapped around his throat, he held Pierre dangling, his feet inches above the ground. The gun was nowhere to be seen. Eyes blazing with an unholy look, Eric was shaking him like a dog with a chew toy. The vampire looked lethal.

  She was barely aware of planting her bottom on one of the steps. Her focus was on the two males.

  Tongue snaking out to lick his lips, Eric’s fangs extended.

  Jasmine had felt their sting once but had never seen them. She was taken aback by how long they were – razor sharp canines that peeked out onto his bottom lip.

  Pierre was clawing at the vampire's arm. He was struggling to breathe, choking on his own breath, which was still trapped in his lungs. The man was no match for the vampiric strength he withered against.

  In one swift motion Eric forced the man’s head to the side as he lowered him to his feet. With ease he subdued every frantic struggle.

  Before she could blink, he had struck. Eric’s fangs sank deep into Pierre’s exposed neck. His icy blue eyes were fierce, savage as he fed.

  Entranced, Jasmine could not look away. No hint of fear lay inside her. No repulsion. In fact, watching him feed was dangerously enticing.

  Chest rising and falling quickly, her breathing quickened with a strange sense of dark excitement. She couldn’t explain it. And she couldn't look away either. Her vision was trapped on the whole scene.

  Almost as if he had sensed her excitement, Eric’s eyes locked on to hers. A look of pleasured blood-thirstiness was etched on his face. A tinge of red lurked in their depths, diluting the cold brightness of the blue. He bit down harder into the supple flesh. His eyes looked almost glazed with bliss.

  The entire time his gaze on hers, as if he were daring her to look away.

  Jasmine felt a thrill rush through her. The whole time she remained in place on the cold, hard step.

  Colour drained from Pierre’s face.

  His struggles had weakened, becoming slow and sluggish. The fight for survival was flowing out of him as his blood continued to fill the vampire’s mouth. Lips blue and skin pale, the life began to ebb from his eyes.

  Eric pulled back. With his lips pulled back in a snarl, his fangs glistened in the lights of the tower around them.

  She had known he was a vampire, but it really hadn’t hit home until this very moment seeing him feed.

  Desire spiralled inside her.

  He was so beautiful, in a dark and compelling kind of way. Maybe it was the danger that was a turn-on. Knowing that fangs and a cold, winters power lay beneath the layer of smooth sophistication.

  He licked the traces of blood from his lips. The fangs retracted back into his mouth with a seamless quickness.

  Jasmine shivered, biting the edge of her lower lip.

  All the traces of the darker side of Eric had vanished again. It was now hidden beneath the veneer of an English gentleman.

  “Did you kill him?”

  Eric released the man from his hold. She watched as Pierre’s body crumpled lifelessly to the floor.

  “I did indeed.” His brooding gaze searched her face for a moment, as if he were watching for her reaction. “He was in no way innocent, Jasmine. Never forget that.”

  She had no doubt. In fact, she didn’t feel very much at all seeing the man dead at his feet.

  Her cheeks felt frozen. A few stray snowflakes were clinging to her eyelashes and hair.

  Eric offered her his hand. Jasmine took it without a second thought. His fingers were sure and warm as
they closed around her own. With a gentle tug he pulled her to her feet.

  Glancing around, she suddenly recalled the other two assailants and noticed them—motionless on the ice covered floor. Eric must have taken them out first, before coming after Pierre.

  His eyes followed hers to the still forms. Snow had begun to settle over them.

  At her questioning glance, he said, “They are merely unconscious. I told you I would protect you, Jasmine. You should know by now that I always keep my word.”

  Chapter 23

  “Do you sense anything?”

  They had secured the men with plastic hand ties that Eric had produced from the pocket of his jacket. The vampire had come prepared for everything.

  “Yes, but it’s not on this floor. It’s higher.” She glanced towards the stairs that led up to the top and grimaced. They were not something she was looking forward to.

  Eric smiled. “It is merely three hundred more steps up to the second level, kitten.”

  Jasmine groaned, not sure she had really wanted to know. Just the thought of them had her legs aching.

  Together they approached the stairs. The snow was swirling down harder now. It had thickened, whiting out anything else.

  “Do you not find all this exhilarating?” His breath tickled her ear.

  Biting at the plumpness of her lower lip, she shivered with awareness. “I wouldn’t say that, no.” She couldn’t hide the huskiness in her voice.

  A grin spread across his face and he moved forwards. “Come on, my lovely.”

  With boundless energy Eric, vanished up the rising stairwell, and with a sigh she followed.

  Why the heck couldn’t he carry her? It would have been a hell of a lot quicker. Maybe he was worried they would run into more trouble. It didn’t make sense that Pierre had been here if there was a bomb. Would they really chance staying so close before it exploded? According to what Twitch said, it was supposed to be well hidden.

  A sense of foreboding had crept up into the back of her skull. She could feel it thumping—slow and insistent like the ticking hands of a clock. Breath puffing against the crisp air, she swallowed down her dread. As she trudged onwards, her legs began throbbing with intensity. Her calves and thighs had begun a slow burn of exertion. Focusing on her breathing, she tried to move through the growing discomfort.