“Later. Let me take care of your friend first.”
He’d even distracted her from Valerie. Chloe felt as if she should smack herself in the head. Yes, what had happened had her rattled, but it hadn’t made her stupid, she hoped. “Yes, of course. Valerie first, then … explanations. Lots of them.”
He gave her a quick, wry look before leaning forward again; he slowly began licking the two puncture wounds in Valerie’s slender throat. The tip of his tongue danced repeatedly over the twin wounds. His long hair fell across his face, obscuring her view, and that gave her the strength to look away, to suck in a long, calming breath.
And it struck her that for the first time in a while, the whispering, tormenting voice had gone silent.
CHAPTER
TWELVE
Valerie briefly regained consciousness, but was agitated and confused until Luca said in a quietly compelling tone, “Valerie, everything is all right. You drank too many margaritas and decided not to drive home. You won’t remember anything about being attacked. You’re very sleepy now, and you’ll sleep until the middle of the afternoon.”
“I’m so sleepy,” Valerie had murmured, the words slurred, then she’d dropped right off to sleep.
“Holy crap,” Chloe blurted, her gaze ping-ponging from Luca to Valerie, then back to Luca. “What did you do, hypnotize her?”
“In a way. It isn’t exactly hypnotism.”
“What is it then, exactly?”
“It’s called glamouring.” He slanted a cool gray look up at her. “Don’t ask me how it’s different from hypnotism, because I can’t give you a textbook answer. For all I know, it’s the same thing, except faster—instantaneous to be exact.”
“Can you do that to me?” she asked suspiciously, because she didn’t like the idea of not being in complete control of herself.
“I have done it to you,” he’d replied, which left her terrified, outraged, and momentarily speechless as he effortlessly lifted Valerie and indicated to Chloe to lead the way to her guest room.
She hastily cleared off the bed, then Luca deposited Valerie on it and stepped back while Chloe eased off Val’s shoes, removed the bloodstained blouse so she could wash it, then pulled the sheet over her friend. Valerie never roused. When a vampire voodooed someone to sleep, they stayed asleep. Even if Valerie had been lying on a concrete slab, she was evidently going to sleep until midafternoon.
Luca stood back, watching. Chloe could feel his presence behind her like a human (maybe) thunderstorm looming in the room. She was all but choking on her sense of ill-usage. He’d done … whatever it was he did … to her! The worst part of it was, she didn’t know what he’d done or when he’d done it, so for all she knew he could be lying to her and making her feel like a fool for no good reason. This could either be some sort of con, or the government was involved. She couldn’t think why the government would be involved, but in this town anything was possible. All she knew for certain was that she was pissed, and she couldn’t even trust her own eyes, much less anything that Luca had said or was about to say.
She thought the wounds on Valerie’s throat were almost completely healed, marked only by red spots, and even the spots seemed to be fading. But if Luca had hypnotized her, or whatever, was she really seeing what she was seeing or did she only think she saw it?
The possibilities made her head hurt. “Aaargh!” she said furiously, and punched him in the stomach before stomping out of the room. Granted, it wasn’t much of a punch because she’d never learned how to really put some power behind it, but it was the thought that counted—and in this case, the thought was that she was completely pissed off at him. He stood frozen for a second, an expression of utter surprise on that chiseled face, then he strode in her wake.
“What was that for?” he demanded, what sounded like indignation in his deep voice. What right did he have to be indignant? She was the one who was being jerked around like a pull-toy.
She stopped in her tracks and whirled on him, planting her hands on her hips as she glared at him. “What do you mean ‘What was that for?’ It was for everything! For telling me you’ve hypnotized me so now I don’t know if anything I’ve seen is real and I’ve just made a fool of myself for even thinking I’ve seen it, and if it is real, then for being here at all! What the hell is going on?” She wanted to shake her hand, because his stomach was as hard as a rock, but she was damned if she’d let him know that she’d hurt herself when he hadn’t even had the courtesy to give a small “oof.” Instead she turned around and resumed her stomping. The kitchen seemed like the best destination, because at least there were knives there, in case she needed to defend herself.
After an impossibly fast detour into the hall bath—she heard the water running and thanked the heavens he was washing the blood from his face and arms—Luca steamed in her wake; she couldn’t hear him—his movements were absolutely silent, which was spooky as all hell—but she could feel him, all but breathing down her neck.
“In case you’ve forgotten,” he growled, “I’ve saved your life—twice, in fact. That should be worth a little respect, rather than a punch in the stomach.” He sounded rather put out by that measly little punch, when she knew she hadn’t hurt him at all.
“That’s what you say, but I don’t know whether you’ve saved my life or not. After all, you’ve hypnotized me, so I don’t know what’s real.”
“Glamoured. Not hypnotized. Glamoured.” Oh, he was definitely steamed. He sounded as if he were grinding his teeth together.
“Glamoured, schmamoured,” she scoffed. She stopped in the middle of her nice, normal kitchen, feeling as if she’d fallen down the rabbit hole. So much had happened since the knock on her door that she felt as if hours had passed, but when she picked up her abandoned cup of coffee she found it was still warm. Incredulous, she looked at the clock. Had fewer than twenty minutes passed? Honestly?
“I’ve glamoured you twice,” Luca said from behind her, ill-temper plain in his tone, as if he wasn’t used to explaining himself. “The first time was last night, because you were so upset and scared after being attacked. I calmed you down, told you to let me heal your leg, then I told you to forget the attack.”
She snorted. “I hate to tell you, but it didn’t work. I remember.” Except … the details were fuzzy, and wouldn’t something that traumatic be a razor-sharp memory? And she hadn’t remembered about him licking her leg until tonight. How could she forget something like that? Even now, after everything that had happened and how out of sorts she was, she felt a curl of warmth through her body at the memory, so shouldn’t she have been remembering it all along?
“I know,” he said curtly, sounding more than a little annoyed that his glamouring hadn’t worked. “You being a conduit may have something to do with that.”
Conduit?
She sighed, suddenly so exhausted she could barely stand. He kept throwing new things at her, not giving her time to get her mind around one incredulous detail before hitting her with another. “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s a conduit?”
Abruptly he was standing in front of her; she hadn’t been aware of him moving, but there he was, his expression grim. Startled, she fell back a step, and the cup of coffee began slipping from her hand. Had she blanked out for a second, just now?
He reached out and took the cup from her, the movement smooth but fast, too fast for her to really follow. “I don’t know if you’re making all these double entendres deliberately, or if you’re oblivious,” he muttered.
“I must be oblivious. I think.” She didn’t really know what she was, other than confused and angry.
“Before I explain what a conduit is, let’s get something nailed down. You said you know what I am.”
“I know what I thought before.” But that was before he’d said he hypnotized her—all right, glamoured—so now she didn’t know anything for certain. Maybe the safest course was to assume he was lying every time his lips moved.
“Then I’ll say it: I’m a vampire. So was the gu
y who attacked you last night, and so is Sorin.” He stood with his arms crossed, his pale eyes intent on her face as if it was somehow imperative that he convince her of something preposterous. Yet now that she’d had time to think about it, her earlier conclusion had to be the result of panic, not logic.
She made a skeptical sound in her throat. “Uh-uh. Right. I know there are vampire clubs around where people pretend to be vampires—”
His eyes narrowed. “I’m not pretending anything.”
“Prove it,” she shot back.
“Fine. Maybe this will convince you.” He put his arms around her and pulled her close, tucking her against his hard, warm body, and convincing her that he had a partial erection, though how that was supposed to relate to him maybe being a vampire, she didn’t know. On the other hand … wow. Her heart gave a thump, and that curl of warmth started low in her mid-section again, so low that she might as well give up the pretense and admit it was between her legs.
She shouldn’t be having this response to him. She should be running for the hills; she did manage to brace her hands against his chest, preparatory to pushing him away, but instead temptation gnawed at her. The beat of his heart thumped under her palms; the heat of his skin burned through his shirt, warming her, luring her closer. She wanted more, more of everything: more touching, more heat, more him.
Marshaling her defenses was an uphill battle, but she managed to say, “Making a pass is supposed to convince me? I don’t think so.”
“Close your eyes,” he whispered, and bent his head.
“Don’t kiss me,” she ordered, gathering her wits just in time, because his mouth was almost on hers.
“I won’t,” he said, and kissed her.
Okay, so he lied. Her eyelids fluttered shut and she lost herself in the experience. He wasn’t the first man to kiss her and she doubted he’d be the last, but good God, she couldn’t imagine anyone being any better at it. His mouth was warm and firm, angling across hers to find the perfect fit. He tasted like coffee, like man, like sex. His tongue moved leisurely, played with hers a moment before moving deeper, taking more. Her hands slid up his chest to curve over his shoulders, clinging when the ground seemed to fall away beneath her feet. His arms tightened around her, lifting her and holding her so close she felt as if he were trying to pull her into him.
Just for a moment, she thought. She’d let this go on just a few seconds more. Then she’d put a stop to it and—
He lifted his mouth. “Open your eyes,” he murmured.
Chloe swallowed, opened her eyes, and stared at him. This close she could see the tiny specks of black and white that made his pale gray eyes so penetrating. She could get lost in those eyes, in the power and intensity burning there—Something wasn’t right. Something flat and white was almost touching their heads, and behind him was … a light fixture?
Bewildered, she looked around, and shrieked. “Holy shit!” Desperately she threw her arms around his neck and hung on for dear life.
They were hovering several feet in the air, their heads almost touching the ten-foot ceiling.
“What the hell are you doing?” She craned her neck from left to right as if looking for a solution to this utterly impossible situation, but the fact was she was still floating in the air, held up only by his arms.
“Convincing you,” he said calmly, and they sort of floated to the floor. As soon as her toes touched the floor tile she shoved away from him, putting as much distance between them as she could in the small room. Too late she saw the block of knives sitting on the counter next to the oven; she should have grabbed one while the grabbing was good.
“You don’t just … just float someone in the air like that!” she shouted, so beside herself she was almost frenzied.
“Why? Is there some human law against it?”
“No, but—” But what? It was rude? It was pushy? She bit her tongue to hold back everything she wanted to yell at him, because most of it was ridiculous.
He began to rise into the air again. Furiously Chloe rushed forward, grabbed his belt, and pulled him down. “Keep your feet on the ground!” she snapped. “I can’t have a serious conversation with someone who’s doing a balloon imitation.”
He began softly laughing. “Are you convinced yet?”
“I’m convinced you can float, but for all I know you’re just full of hot air.”
He smiled, and razor-sharp fangs turned his smile from heart-stopping to nightmare-inducing. It wasn’t that he looked deformed or horrific, simply that he was instantly the most lethal-looking man she’d ever seen.
Chloe fell back, silenced, and for a moment there was no sound in the kitchen except that of her own rapid breath. “Okay,” she finally said, her voice shaky. “You’re a vampire.”
His fangs retracted and he looked up at the ceiling as if to say, Finally.
She remained on the other side of the kitchen, shaking from head to toe. A vampire was in the house with her. She’d invited him in. Jumbled bits of vampire lore raced through her mind: Would garlic powder repel him the same as a clove of garlic? Could she hold up her fingers in the sign of a cross, or did she have to have a real cross? Didn’t it have to be silver, or something, or was she thinking of werewolves?
“Now that that’s settled,” he said, “let’s have some coffee and talk about what’s happening.”
In short order she found herself sitting on the sofa with Luca beside her, the television dark, their cups of coffee sitting on the table in front of them. She didn’t know why they’d bothered to get them, because she didn’t know if she’d ever be able to swallow again.
Evidently there were Immortal Warriors on another plane of existence; they were the greatest warriors who had ever lived, and they all died in battle fighting for good against bad, or something like that. From this other plane, they watched over human kind, and whenever there was a great need they’d come back to Earth, or the present, or reality—whatever you wanted to call it—to go back into battle again.
Then there were the vampires. Rebel vampires were organizing to destroy the status quo and resume what they thought of as their rightful place in life, which was a position of power. The man, vampire, who had attacked Valerie was part of the insurrection. Luca had protected her because … okay, she wasn’t real clear on that part. Something about following whoever attacked her back to headquarters and finding out who was behind the murder of his friend, only he hadn’t done that; instead he’d stayed with her, which defeated the purpose. She didn’t know if he was a good vampire or a bad vampire, or if he simply had a different agenda right now and would turn on her when he’d accomplished what he wanted.
Not that he came out and actually said that, of course. Instead he told her about the Warriors and the vampire rebels, speaking as calmly as if he wasn’t talking about something so far beyond her experience that he might as well be talking about flying to Jupiter. “They can’t just come through, though; they have to be called, by one of their descendants here in the present. You are one of those descendants, a conduit for the Warrior. The dreams you’ve been having, the voice you’ve been hearing—that’s your Warrior, trying to contact you. The connection will gradually become stronger and clearer, until you can call the Warrior home.” He gave her an assessing glance. “Your Warrior probably has other descendants, of course, if your parents are still alive, or you have siblings or cousins, but you must be the most clairaudient.”
Lucky her. She was clairaudient. Of all the things she’d ever wanted to be, that had never even blipped on her radar.
She sat in silence for a while, trying to absorb what he’d said. Light blazed all around her; the television might be dark, but every other light in the house was on. Before she’d let him lead her into the living room, she’d raced around the house flipping switches and turning on lamps, banishing every shadow. Even then, she felt safer with Luca sitting beside her on the sofa rather than in a chair, which was sort of like a bird feeling safer under the cat’s pa
w. But every nerve in her body felt raw and exposed, and a part of her expected some new boogeyman to jump out of a closet or a dark corner; she couldn’t do anything about the closets, but a boogeyman would have a hard time finding a dark corner in her house.
It would soon be dawn, but Chloe didn’t think she could sleep. She might never sleep again. On the other hand, she was utterly exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to lie down. Failing that, she leaned her head back on the couch and closed her eyes. “Let me see if I have all of this straight. I’m a conduit, Sorin is a vampire rebel, the guy that jumped me last night is also a rebel …”
“Was,” Luca interrupted.
“Was what?” she asked, opening her eyes to look at him.
“The man who attacked you last night. His name was Enoch, and I killed him.”
She shouldn’t be surprised to hear that, but a chill ran down her spine. Luca said the words so calmly, so matter of factly, as if killing someone was everyday business for him. She shook off the chill and continued. “Anyway, Valerie had the misfortune to be my friend, and to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. But what about you? You didn’t follow Sorin when you had the chance. Why not just let him kill me, then you could do what you intended to do. Why save me?” Twice.
He gave her a hooded look. “There are several reasons I won’t go into right now.”
Chloe sighed. “You’re kidding, right? What could possibly be worse than what I already know? Vampires, warriors, rebels … what else could there be?” She almost hoped he didn’t answer that question, as her mind took her to places she didn’t want it to go. If this was all true, what else might be waiting around the next corner? What other monsters must exist?
“All you have to know about me right now is that I’m on your side, and I’ll keep you safe.”
That was honestly reassuring, though she knew it shouldn’t be. Luca had a strength about him that gave her confidence, even now. There was an aura of power she was drawn to—if she believed in auras, which she didn’t. Well, hadn’t. Tonight she didn’t know what to believe.
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