by CC MacKenzie
That was the first time in six long months that she'd shown him anything but a steely composure. At last, Marcus thought when he sat back in his chair. Underneath the buttoned up black suits and white silk shirts there was plenty of fire along with the ice. Thank goodness. He'd begun to wonder if he'd misjudged his instincts about her. Since his hearing was outstanding even for a vampyre he'd heard exactly what the Chinese aide had called her. He'd watched her fight to remain calm and contained.
Epic fail, Anais.
Now she believed she'd lost her job.
Marcus wondered how far he could take her and how far she would go to keep her position in his company.
He grinned as he spun his chair around to look out over the vast skyline of Shanghai.
No matter how hard he'd worked and challenged her, Anais had held her nerve. Until today. Just as well, otherwise he'd still be cooling his heels waiting for an opportunity to make his move. She'd put up a brilliant fight against her wild attraction to him. He had to admit it had been fun watching her and waiting. She'd wanted to prove herself and he had to admire that about her. No way would Anais sleep her way to the top. Bless her. The key to the success of his species was the ability for a vampyre to harness an endless patience. And Marcus had been ruthlessly patient with Anais for over six long months.
The first time she'd walked into the interview for the position of a junior partner, in front of the entire board, his attraction had been immediate and absolute. The way she'd answered their questions in that fabulously clear, calm voice, had soothed the beast within and the coolly beautiful features had turned-on the man. The moment that cat-like gaze had held his, reserved and crystal clear, the vampyre living within him had wanted her. Recognising her for what she was. His.
Anais was ambitious but not viciously so. She was sharp, too. Very sharp.
There were certain skills his mate would need to cope with her transition to a new born vampyre. If, she survived it. One of those skills was an open mind. And Anais had a beautiful mind. Logical. Strong. Tenacious.
However, something about her - something that felt like a vibration, a little hum, in her blood - troubled him, just a little.
The side of Marcus that was human listened to an instinct that had served him well for over two hundred years. There was something about Anais Walker that cautioned him to keep her at arm's length and to take it nice and slow and easy until he discovered what it was that bothered him.
A careful and thorough check of her past had revealed nothing sinister. Still, his instinct for self-preservation held him back as Marcus took the time to understand what it was about her that made him... wary. Having spent many decades waiting for a woman to trigger his yearning, Marcus understood patience. And Anais was the woman he yearned for. He had her exactly where he wanted her. Now he eased back in his chair, stretching out long legs. And wondered what surprises the night might bring.
He couldn't wait.
Chapter Three
Sipping a thirty year old malt whisky, a Glenfarclas, out of a heavy glass of Edinburgh crystal, Marcus strolled onto the wrap-around balcony of his suite and studied the moon hanging in the heavens. A rare blue moon. A moon that many believed brought a warning of doom and destruction. Could be worse, it could be a blood moon. And then they'd really be in the shitter. Without moving his head, his eyes did a sweep of the heavens and the rooftops. The Centuri of his personal guard were locked and loaded. Dressed from head to toe in black leather, some carried lasers, some wore swords crossed on their back while others carried good old fashioned guns. In spite of what the movies said, his kind could not out-run a speeding bullet. Although never fatal, slugs did plenty of damage to a vampyre and healing was a bitch.
The sound of a vampyre sniffing the air brought his brows together.
"Nice threads. Going somewhere?" asked James.
"Pepper club."
"Not smelling like that you're not, pal."
Marcus turned to his brother who stepped out to join him.
James was a typical Gillespie. Tall and dark with the build and demeanour of their Celtic warrior clan. He was six foot two, to Marcus's six foot four and twenty vampyre years younger. Although to a human eye they might have been twins.
Except for the hair.
With his black hair tied in a short tail at the base of his neck and his lean good looks, James Gillespie looked more like a rock star than a corporate lawyer. Marcus ignored the little niggle of disapproval and irritation. They were wasted emotions. James did what he wanted. James played by his own rules, always had done and always would do. He'd taken a human female as his mate and still hadn't taken her vein to bring her fully into their world. It really was pitiful behaviour for a vampyre prince.
But after that statement, Marcus slid a finger into the unbuttoned neck of his black silk shirt, bent his head and sniffed. All he could smell was shower gel and a cologne he'd worn for over two hundred years, specially mixed for him in Paris.
"I smell fine," he growled.
His brother's black brows flew into his hairline.
"You reek of yearning. The elevator stank like a vampyre brothel. I could smell Anais, too. You should stop torturing and playing with the girl."
A vampyre's yearning hit him once in his lifetime and only if he was lucky enough to find the woman for him. It was true that Anais was becoming more and more turned on around him. And it was also true that Marcus was having the best time toying with her. He'd waited a long, very long, time to find her. So why not enjoy the journey rather than rushing headlong towards the destination? Patience, as the old saying said, was a virtue. However, his vampyre was being driven crazy with the wildly exotic scent of her arousal and becoming impatient with Marcus's lack of action. Although he was at the right age and maturity to take a mate, for a vampyre, Marcus was physically disciplined in all things. He refused to permit a bone deep desire of a mere woman to undermine his well-honed ability to stay in control of his emotions and, his body. Unlike others of his kind, he'd never indulged himself in the joy of an exquisite release, by taking the vein of a human female while making love. Marcus reserved that honour, the deep bliss of the experience, for his fated mate. Once he had fed from Anais and she from him, his yearning would abate. And life as he knew it would return to normal.
For many years he'd refused to feed from a warm, live human. Instead, like his father and brothers, and other senior members of his race, he'd become accustomed to using specially manufactured hemoglobin to keep his hunger at bay. The results were a win-win for vampyres and humans alike. For his species the enhanced hemoglobin created an increased strength and endurance and, it was hoped, advanced longevity. For humans it meant less disease, less of the infections that had crossed the species, in some cases killing millions of humans. The great plague of 1665 and the Spanish flu of 1918 being two cases in point. If humans ever discovered that vampyres were the cause of the swine flu pandemic and now Ebola they'd be on a mission to hunt and destroy.
Unlike his father, Marcus wasn't particularly concerned about humans finding out the truth. The whole vampyre legend had become an integral part of human myth and popular culture. These days humans were riveted by vampyre novels, film and hit television shows. The crazy thing was that many humans would do a happy dance if they even thought that vampyres existed. Although, unlike fiction, humans could not be turned unless they carried a certain amount of vampyre DNA. Since finding humans with the correct DNA was rarer than hen's teeth, the issue for Marcus and his brothers hadn't arisen.
"I've been talking to Constantine," James said now, his deep voice low. "He's interested in conducting a close medical study of our yearning."
"Is he? Maybe he should concentrate on his own personal life. He's over four hundred years old, isn't it about time he saw to his own yearning?"
James shrugged. "Do you want to be the one to tell a vampyre Precedential Elder to fuck off?"
No. Marcus didn't. Constantine Mabille was one of those rare b
eings, a vampyre warrior turned scientist and physicist who owned one of the largest pharmaceutical companies in the world. He'd done a lot for the advancement in health of the general population for humans and vampyres alike. Plus, Constantine was pretty tight with their father.
"What does he want?" Marcus couldn't keep the irritation from his voice.
"He's sending Saira Pattullo and a team of her Centuri medics to take samples from you and Anais. He suspects that your yearning was triggered by something in Anais. It's only a theory, but he wants bloods, etc. And he's taking samples from me and Charlotte, too."
"What excuse are you going to give your wife, who just happens to be a nurse, to persuade her to give a blood sample?" Marcus wanted to know.
James rubbed the back of his neck and gave him a dark look.
"I'll deal with it," he growled. "I need to take her vein soon. When I'm around her my vampyre is becoming increasingly unstable. I'm terrified to touch her."
"I don't understand why you have not brought her fully into our world."
"You don't understand because you've never been in love," James shot back. His eyes scanned the heavens, and then he sighed deeply. A sound leaden with anxiety. "I want it to be her choice. And it scares the shit out of me to even think about hurting her. I don't want to lose her."
Now Marcus took a seat and leaned back.
He stared up at his brother, understood his concern.
When a human became a new born vampyre the transition was not only unspeakably painful, but, if things went wrong, potentially fatal. Add in the fact that the ancient scrolls documenting the transition process had been stolen by the Legion over two hundred years ago and the Gillespie brothers were, well, working in the dark. However, Marcus was quite prepared to be the first of his brothers to bring his mate into their world. It was a simple exchange of blood. A specific amount of blood. How hard could it be? As far as he was concerned his baby brother needed to man-up.
"Love," Marcus drawled in a voice filled with something like disgust. "Is highly over-rated."
Since James had heard it all before, he didn't rise to the bait.
Instead, he shook his head and eyed his brother.
"I can't wait to see how you handle Anais. And speaking of Anais, what happened during the meeting today?"
"She was called a whore and it upset her." Marcus understood why his brother cursed under his breath. James liked and respected Anais. He continued, "So that's why I'm taking her out tonight for a little bit of rest and relaxation. Then we'll see what we'll see."
His brother's eyes went wide.
"You can't take her out while you both stink of yearning? Christ, the locals will be all over the pair of you like cats high on catnip."
Now Marcus stood, picked up a slim black velvet box from the table. "No, they won't."
He opened the box and James blew out a low whistle.
"Are you certain now is the right time to give her that?"
A vampyre only gave his bloodstone to the woman who held his heart.
Marcus carefully removed the necklace from the box.
"While she wears my bloodstone, no one will touch her."
James moved to put a strong hand on his arm.
"I still think it's too dangerous. I'm coming with you."
Now Marcus sent him a lazy grin. "Playing gooseberry?"
"Nope. I won't cramp your style." James eyes lifted to study the heavens. His brow creased. "I've just got a feeling."
Their eyes met and Marcus read his brother's genuine concern.
Although they bickered, all the Gillespie siblings were close and over the years Marcus had learned to have a healthy respect for his brother's feelings.
His eyes lifted again to the night sky to study the blue moon.
A harbinger of doom.
He didn't really believe all that superstitious nonsense.
What harm would it do if his brother wanted to tag along?
If there was trouble James was a good man to have in a fight.
He'd have his back.
Marcus nodded.
"Fine by me."
Meanwhile, in her room Anais dressed with care.
There was nothing quite like the delicious sensation of pure silk against warm, scented flesh. The delicate fabric was like a salve on oversensitive skin, a balm on emotions that were too raw, too near the surface. Turning in front of a huge wall mirror, she checked out the shocking plunge in the back, which dipped below her narrow waist. The color was perfect. It suited her mood, blood red. Black hair was pinned on the top of her head by two chopsticks made of nine carat gold. They'd been designed specifically for hair decoration, tiny strands of gold beads dangled at the ends.
The rail of designer dresses in silks and chiffons, along with matching accessories Marcus had sent to her room a few hours earlier, had almost made her run and hide. They were universally sexy and absolutely gorgeous. More suited for a date, or a hot romance rather than a business dinner. Tonight, she reminded herself firmly, was not a date. Tonight was about business colleagues having simple dinner at a club. However, earlier she couldn't help chewing on her bottom lip as she'd tried on dress after dress and Anais realised she was deluding herself. Marcus was spookily self-aware. Now she wondered if maybe he'd picked up the vibe that she was attracted to him? The thought no sooner entered her head, when she cast it aside as wishful thinking. No way would Marcus Gillespie mix business with pleasure. Nope. Tonight was simply her last chance to attempt to negotiate the terms for a future with the firm.
Anais knew that losing her temper with anyone, never mind Marcus, was unwise and unprofessional. And she'd totally lost it with him today. But he'd deserved it, talking to her in that tone of voice, looking at her that way, burning holes in her with those amazing eyes. Now she frowned and let the curl of annoyance burn nice and bright to light the fire of battle in her belly. If he thought she was just going to walk away from her career then Marcus Gillespie had another think coming. From the moment she'd met him she'd known Marcus was a dangerous man. Physically and intellectually he was too big, too strong and too charismatic. Exactly the type of man Anais had taken great care throughout her entire life to avoid. It had been tough, very tough, but, no matter how devastatingly attractive the man was, she'd managed to maintain a professional distance. Then today she'd raised her voice to him, totally blowing that distance right out of the water. There had been something in his eye, something that told her he'd enjoyed watching her lose it. She knew he liked to test her, liked to niggle her.
Bastard.
Well, she wouldn't lose her cool with him again.
No way would she let him win.
Tonight she was on a mission to salvage her position.
Grabbing a matching evening purse, she opened the door. Following the sound of deep male voices she found James Gillespie looking as handsome as ever in a pale grey lounge suit with a matching open neck shirt that only emphasised wide shoulders and his dark coloring. He was sipping what looked like a glass of scotch, the Gillespie brother's favourite tipple. Then she turned to find Marcus watching her with a dazed look in his eyes. Eyes of such a violent blue she went absolutely still.
Desire hit him so hard Marcus found it hard to breathe.
No one moved.
"Drink?" James offered into the stunned silence and gave his brother a sharp look.
"Dry white wine, thank you," Anais said without taking unsure eyes from Marcus.
"What the hell is that you're almost wearing?" Marcus growled, ignoring the way his brother's brows shot into his hairline.
Looking absolutely delighted with his reaction, and with herself, the little devil gave him big eyes.
Anais spun in a circle.
"Like it?"
"You're going to drive men wild," he responded, churned up by the way his body had gone too hard, too fast. Her smooth brow creased at the chill in his voice. Marcus hoped she was bringing a coat or a wrap because there was no way in hell she wa
s going to walk through the hotel lobby practically naked.
"Ignore him," said James as he poured her a glass of wine. He smiled as he handed her the glass. "You look lovely."
With a provocative smile for his brother. "Cheers." She took a little sip.
Her dark eyes lingered in what looked like approval on Marcus's charcoal suit of a fine wool and silk mix, with a silk shirt. Then those eyes spent a single beat too long staring at his crotch.
"You two scrub up well," she said in a breathy little voice.
The scent of her yearning filled the room.
For the first time Marcus wondered if James was right.
Maybe going out this evening with Anais in this state was not a good idea?
But he'd made the decision, even booked the table.
Anais was dressed to kill and enjoying herself.
No way was he going to back out of a promise to take her out and disappoint her.
It was about time they had a break from work. And more importantly, it was about time he made his move.
He picked up the black velvet box from the table.
"Wear this, it will go beautifully with your dress."
Moving to stand in front of her he opened the lid.
Those almond shaped eyes went huge when she saw the necklace.
They flew to his and he read a wary surprise.
Her hand rose and her fingertip touched a stone the size of her thumbnail.
"It's beautiful, Marcus. What is it?"
Marcus picked up the gold chain, opened the clasp.
"It's called a bloodstone. Turn around," he ordered.
For a moment she hesitated and then she turned and gave him a bird's eye view of her beautiful naked back. The scent of her, flowers, clean warm woman, along with her desire for him, swum around his already enhanced senses. His whole system went on red alert. This was dangerous.
In his mind his vampyre gave a low growl as his swollen erection pressed hard against his zipper.
As he placed the chain around her slim neck the stone fell just above the V of her breasts and Anais held the unexpected weight of it in her fist.