She rubbed her arms as she marched toward the door. “I will not give him another thought.”
She was halfway down the stairs when she recalled his reaction to the camper full of pretty mortal girls. His eyes hadn’t turned red for them. Like her, he had wanted to take them home, and he’d handled them gently to assuage their fears. He’d been surprisingly kind . . . for a barbarian.
“Thank the Lord you are alive and well!” Princess Joanna announced when Pamela entered the parlor.
“Santa Maria be praised,” Maria Consuela added, and kissed her rosary.
“I’m quite all right,” Pamela assured the ladies.
Joanna’s title of princess was honorary since she was an old vampire, having been changed in Venice while en route to the Holy Land during one of the Crusades. Maria Consuela de Montemayor had been captured during the Spanish Inquisition when the authorities had feared that her fiancé was Jewish. Fortunately for her, he was also a vampire, and he’d teleported into the prison to rescue her. Both had been widowed centuries ago and had then transferred to a harem, where they could live in comfort and safety.
After appearing on a reality show for the Digital Vampire Network, Lady Pamela and her old harem friends had become modern enough to eschew the concept of needing a master. Still, in many ways, they held fast to their historic roots.
Princess Joanna settled in an easy chair by the fireplace. “Prithee, tell us all that has transpired.”
“Oh, yes.” Cora Lee walked in with a tray and set it down on the table. “We want to know everything.” She poured four cups of steaming hot Chocolood, a mixture of synthetic blood and chocolate. “I do declare we were worried sick.”
Maria Consuela shuddered. “It reminded me of being tortured.”
“Please do not suffer on my account.” Pamela sat, then accepted a cup from Cora Lee. “Thank you, dear.”
The Southern belle perched on the settee next to Maria Consuela. “Were you able to find Lara’s husband?”
“Yes. Everything went precisely as I had planned.” Not precisely, Pamela thought with a silent groan. Never in her wildest imaginings would she have foreseen herself in that man’s arms.
“And who was there?” Princess Joanna sipped from her cup. “Giacomo di Venezia, of course. And Zoltan Czakvar?”
Pamela nodded. “They were quite shocked to see me when I arrived.”
“I bet!” Cora Lee snickered. “Who else was there?”
“Two others. We hardly know them.” Pamela took a sip from her cup. “One was that new chap, J.L. Wang.”
“From Cathay?” Princess Joanna asked.
“I believe it’s called China now, dear.” Pamela set her cup down. “But he’s actually American.”
Princess Joanna waved a dismissive hand. “Those Americans are such a . . . boiling cauldron.”
“I think it’s melting pot,” Cora Lee said. “Who was the other fellow?”
Pamela shrugged nonchalantly even though heat was invading her cheeks. “That . . . man from Russia.”
“Russia?” Princess Joanna’s eyes widened.
Cora Lee gasped. “You mean the huge giant with the icy blue eyes and the blond braid down his back? Land sakes, his hair is longer than mine!”
“Wicked,” Maria Consuela whispered as she clicked through her rosary. “I know of whom you speak. He has eyes as cold as sin.”
More like red-hot and glowing, Pamela thought with an inward wince. But the sinful part was probably accurate.
“Heaven forbid!” Princess Joanna pressed a hand to her chest. “You cannot mean that barbarian!”
Pamela started to lift her cup, but changed her mind for fear her hand would noticeably tremble. “He seemed to be a valuable member of their team. No doubt he’s a fierce warrior.”
Princess Joanna snorted. “Fierce, indeed. The man is one of those horrid Vikings.”
“Evil,” Maria Consuela whispered.
Joanna shuddered. “For centuries, they were a scourge on our countryside, always pillaging and plundering.”
And she’d come close to being plundered. If Pamela had waited but a second longer, his lips would have touched hers. And being a barbarian, he wouldn’t have stopped. He would have ravished her mouth entirely. Thoroughly.
Her skin pebbled with gooseflesh, and in a shocking burst of clarity, she realized it wasn’t fear that was making her heart pound and her body tremble.
It was excitement.
Good heavens! Was she losing her senses? Such feelings could not be tolerated. The man was not her type at all.
“His name is Mikhail, right?” Cora Lee asked. She sipped from her cup. “I do declare he’s always frightened me a bit. He seems so . . . cold and forbidding.”
“Evil,” Maria Consuela muttered.
“He is absolutely wrong in every possible way,” Pamela said in a rushed voice. “Incredibly huge and muscular, with a chest like a rock. Not at all like my late husband. Maximilian was a gentleman. Sophisticated and refined. He would have never said . . .” She paused when she realized that the three women were watching her curiously.
Cora Lee leaned forward. “What did he say?”
Pamela’s face blazed with heat. “Nothing.” Prepare to be plundered.
“You are comparing him to your late husband?” Princess Joanna asked.
Pamela shook her head. “Only to emphasize what a huge brute he is.”
Cora Lee gave her a pointed look. “Maybe he’s huge all over.”
Pamela gasped. “I daresay that is . . .”
“Wicked.” Maria Consuela zipped through her rosary at vampire speed.
Cora Lee shrugged. “I’m just saying it’s been a long time since any of us indulged in a little romance.”
“That is quite out of the question,” Pamela snapped. “I have no intention of going anywhere near that brute—”
“Huge brute,” Cora Lee interrupted with a smirk.
Was he really huge? Pamela shoved that disturbing thought aside. “We all know a man’s size is totally irrelevant. What matters is his mind-control ability.”
Princess Joanna nodded. “Indeed. We need to make the acquaintance of a gentleman who is skilled at vampire sex.”
“Like Roman.” Cora Lee sighed. “I do declare he could satisfy us all in ten minutes.”
“Exactly,” Pamela agreed. “It was very time-efficient. And wonderfully private. The entire experience is so much more refined when it’s conducted purely as a mental exercise.”
Cora Lee nodded. “We could stay in our own rooms. And we didn’t even have to take off our clothes.”
“And it was never messy, like physical sex.” Pamela grimaced. “No grasping, sweaty hands pawing you all over.”
Maria Consuela shuddered. “Evil.”
“There was a time when I think I actually enjoyed real sex.” Princess Joanna waved a hand in the air. “But that was centuries ago, and I have long forgotten.”
“It is best left forgotten,” Pamela said. The thought of having a man physically invade her body—it was far too shocking. Too raw and frightening.
But wasn’t she trying to get over her cowardice?
“So what happens now?” Cora Lee asked. “Are you going to meet them tomorrow night?”
“Surely, one night of wild behavior will suffice,” Princess Joanna said. “It is far too dangerous for you to continue with this folly.”
Pamela swallowed hard. She had to be brave. She couldn’t wallow in cowardice for another century. Or even another night. “VampWoman will return.”
Chapter Four
“YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE come,” Zoltan announced the next evening after Lady Pamela teleported into his parlor in Budapest.
With a silent squeal of triumph, Pamela congratulated herself on finding the men. Back home, while donning her costume, she’d worried about being able to locate them. But since Zoltan was the Coven Master of Eastern Europe, she’d decided his home was a good place to start. She’d been here bef
ore to attend a party, so the location was embedded in her psychic memory.
“Good evening.” She smiled at Zoltan, who stood next to the fireplace. “Gentlemen.” She nodded at Jack and J.L., who lounged in nearby chairs, frowning at her. A pile of sheathed swords and knives rested on a coffee table.
Where was . . . the back of her neck prickled as if touched by an icy breeze. Or was it the frigid glare of pale blue eyes? She spun about, her black silk cape rippling through the air.
Mikhail was leaning against the doorjamb, his arms crossed over his massive chest, his eyes glittering like broken shards of icicles. Heat spread like flames throughout her body, causing her face to flush. How could such a cold brute make her feel like she was melting?
A corner of his mouth curled up.
Arrogant oaf. How dare he assume he was the cause of her blush? Even though he was. But as annoyed as she was, she couldn’t help but notice the dimple caused by his half smile. And what a wide, sensuous mouth he had. Finely sculpted lips, too. Lips that had come so close to kissing her. Don’t think about it! With a blink, she forced her gaze back to his eyes.
Dear God, no. He was ogling her again, lingering over every dip and curve of her body. Her skin tingled beneath the black spandex, and the costume felt suddenly tighter, constricting her to the point she could scarcely breathe. His eyes met hers, and he slowly smiled.
With a flourish of her cape, she turned her back to him. Blast him! He enjoyed unnerving her.
He said something in a foreign language that made Zoltan chuckle. It must be Hungarian. She hadn’t thought about it till now, but the oaf’s English was quite good. And he’d spoken in Albanian to a Malcontent the night before. He was surprisingly well educated for a barbarian, and that unnerved her even more.
She squared her shoulders and adjusted her utility belt. “Pray tell, where will our mission take us tonight?”
“We’re waiting for a report to come in from Dubrovnik,” Zoltan replied. “We believe the Malcontents are hiding a group of human captives in a warehouse near the docks. We need to rescue them before they’re loaded onto a ship.”
A lump of alarm rose in her throat, and she swallowed hard. This mission could easily turn violent. But wasn’t this what she had trained for? She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Tonight, she would prove she was no coward. When her companions needed her, she would not turn tail and run.
“As soon as we get the call, we’re leaving,” Zoltan continued, then gave her a pointed look. “And you will not be coming with us.”
“Of course I will. I’m part of the team.”
“No, milady, you are not,” Jack said softly.
“You don’t work for MacKay S and I,” J.L. added.
“I’m a free agent,” she insisted. “I’m here to help you, and I will not be dismissed!”
“Lady Pamela.” Zoltan gave her an exasperated look. “We only wish to keep you safe.”
“Your presence could endanger us all.” Jack stood and selected a sword from the coffee table. “If we’re forced to protect you—”
“I can take care of myself.” She planted her fists on her hips. “I am up to the challenge.”
“Are you?” a deep voice spoke behind her, and she pivoted to face him.
Mikhail walked toward her, watching her with a predatory gleam in his eyes. “If I remember correctly, you frighten very easily.”
Her heart sped up, pounding in her chest.
His gaze dropped to her mouth. “Are you certain you won’t . . . disappoint?”
Was he alluding to their almost kiss? How dare he! She lifted her chin. “I will not abandon my teammates.”
He focused on her breasts, which made her even more breathless and tingly. “You’re afraid. I can hear your heart racing.”
“That’s not fear! It’s—” Good heavens! She stopped herself in the nick of time.
His eyes met hers in a flash, and the intensity of his look took her breath away. He tilted his head, searching her face.
She jumped when a phone rang.
“That should be my informant.” Zoltan pulled a cell phone from his jacket pocket, while Jack and J.L. quickly armed themselves. “I’ll turn on the speakerphone, so we can teleport to his voice.”
Excellent! Pamela faced him, mentally steeling her nerves for battle.
The phone rang again, and Zoltan frowned at her. “Mikhail, get her out of here. I’ll call you in sixty seconds, so you can join us.”
“What?” Pamela gasped when Mikhail grabbed her from behind. Before she could react, everything went black.
As soon as she materialized, she jumped into action. A sharp jab in his ribs with her right elbow as she spun to face him, then a left punch in the—“Ouch!”
The man’s stomach was like a slab of concrete.
“Are you all right?” He grabbed her hand.
Before he could remove her glove, she yanked her hand away. Balling her fists, she bounced back on the balls of her feet, then aimed a quick roundhouse kick at his chest. He nabbed her ankle and tugged, making her lose her balance. As she started to fall, he grabbed her and pulled her hard against him.
“Oof.” She caught her breath, her nose pressed against his chest. He smelled surprisingly clean for a barbarian. As she splayed her hands against his stomach, preparing to shove him away, she realized he wasn’t as smooth and cold as a concrete slab. He was warm and rippled. With muscles.
He held her tight, his arms banded around her shoulders. She resisted an urge to snuggle against him. It was tempting, so tempting. What if he wasn’t a barbarian after all?
She glanced up at him. “What did you say to Zoltan that he found so amusing?”
A corner of Mikhail’s mouth lifted, causing the dimple to reappear. “It was a compliment.”
“About me?”
“Of course.” His left hand slid beneath her cape and down her spine to her utility belt. “I was admiring you from . . . behind.” His hand curved around her rump.
“Stop that!” When she attempted to push away, his hand flexed on her buttock, pulling her closer. How could she have ever doubted he was a barbarian? “How dare you!”
He gave her another squeeze.
If only she could slap that amused look off his face, but both her arms were pinned against his chest. She stomped her boot on his foot.
He merely looked annoyed. “Do I need to tie you to the bedpost?”
“You wouldn’t dare—bedpost?” She glanced over her shoulder and flinched. A massive, canopy bed dominated a room filled with bookcases and tables and large leather chairs. “You—you brought me to your bedroom?”
“This is the cellar of my hunting lodge.”
She glanced at the huge bed again. Of course it was huge. The man was huge. “This is highly inappropriate.”
“I had to take you somewhere.”
“You should have taken me to my bedroom.”
His mouth twitched. “Is that an invitation?”
“No! I meant my home. In London.” She scanned the room once more. This was a hunting lodge? It was as well furnished as her townhouse. And he certainly owned a great number of books . . . for a barbarian.
He released her and stepped back. “If I knew the way to your home, I would have taken you there. You should go there now.”
And give up on her dream? “No, I’m coming with you.”
“No. You’re going home, where you’ll be safe.”
“I refuse.” She lifted her chin. “I will not take the coward’s way out.”
His eyes hardened like ice as he stepped toward her. “Then you’d better be brave because if you’re still here when I return, I will tie you to the bedpost. After I strip you—” His phone rang.
Her heart thundered in her ears so loud, she couldn’t hear him answer the phone. He would strip her? And tie her to the bedpost?
“Pam!”
She jumped when she realized he was talking to her.
“The guys need me. Go
! Quickly!”
The guys were in need? She vanished and materialized silently behind Mikhail.
“Okay, she’s gone,” he said into the phone. “I’m coming.”
She leaped on his back just before he disappeared.
DAMN IT TO hell! As soon as Mikhail materialized, he pried away the hands that were gripped around his neck. She was the most stubborn, disobedient woman he’d ever met. He should have tied her. And stripped her. She wouldn’t have pulled this stunt if she were naked. But then he wouldn’t have answered the phone . . .
“Merda,” Jack whispered. “Why did you bring her?”
He gritted his teeth as he turned to glare at Pam, who stood behind him with a defiant look on her face. “You little—” His anger froze when he spotted several dozen armed Malcontents streaming through the double doors of the warehouse, headed straight toward him and his companions.
A quick scan of their surroundings confirmed the gravity of the situation. They were blocked on three sides by heavy metal containers. They could fight or flee. Zoltan, Jack, and J.L. had their swords drawn, ready to fight, but Pamela’s sudden appearance was making them hesitate.
She drew her sword. “Let’s do it.”
Mikhail noticed a second-floor balcony to the right. He grabbed Pam and teleported her onto the balcony.
As soon as they materialized, she hit him on the chest and opened her mouth to berate him.
He clapped a hand over her mouth and turned her so she could see the men below. “I didn’t take you away,” he whispered. “Stay here, stay hidden, and keep out of trouble.”
He unsheathed his broadsword and teleported quietly behind the group of Malcontents. With a war cry, he attacked from the rear. Zoltan, Jack, and J.L. charged from the other end. The warehouse echoed with the clanging of swords and screams of the wounded.
Wounded? Mikhail tended to kill the enemy so quickly, there was no time for a scream. And he’d learned from experience never to leave wounded in his wake, for they could rally and attack from the rear. The screams appeared to be coming from the middle of the Malcontent pack.
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