“Got it.” She gave him a grateful smile, then tried to stand. Mistake. Her legs buckled and she cringed as the floor flew up to meet her face.
Before impact, Ric caught her and laid her back on the bed. “Better not try to walk tonight.”
“Why? What’s wrong with my legs? And my head? And the rest of me? I really don’t like this. Should I go see a doctor, maybe?”
“It’s nothing to worry about. Promise. I’ll explain it in the morning. For now you need to rest. Do you need to take a trip to the bathroom before I go?”
“No!” There were some things she was simply too proud to do. Peeing in front of a man was one of them.
“Very well. If you feel the urge later—”
“I’ll be sure to call you,” she finished for him, even though she’d almost rather go in her pants than call him for help. “Thanks.”
He leaned down and she prepared for another toe-curling smooch. What she received—a stiff, cold, Hollywood air kiss—was far from what she’d expected.
Puzzled by Ric’s lukewarm farewell, Sophie watched him leave the room. Of course, by the time she had herself dressed for bed, which was a challenge, her bladder had decided it did indeed need to be emptied. Plus, she needed to brush her teeth. Figuring her legs had to be stronger by now, she tried standing again.
Her forehead slammed into the side rail of the bed on her way down to the carpeted floor, making her see stars.
“Ow, ow, ow!” she yelled, sitting on the floor, rubbing her swelling forehead. “That hurt, dammit.”
“You’re stubborn,” a familiar voice, a voice that rumbled through her body like earthquake aftershocks, said from the general vicinity of the bathroom.
“Tell me something I don’t already know.” She blinked several times to clear the stars from her vision and tipped her head to look up at the man standing over her. Even with the world swooping up and down like a carnival ride, she could see his expression was a mixture of amusement and worry.
Crossing his arms over his chest, he said, “I told you to call me.”
“I don’t like to pee in front of people.”
“I promise I won’t watch.”
When her bladder contracted again, threatening to spill its contents on the floor, she mumbled, “Okay.” Humiliated beyond belief, she snatched up her dropped toothbrush and toothpaste and let him scoop her into his very capable arms. He carried her with such ease it amazed her. She was not a slight woman, not by anyone’s standards.
He stopped directly in front of the pot, then slowly lowered her to her feet, supporting her weight by holding her under the arms. “Okay. I’m going to close my eyes now. Go ahead. Take down your shorts.”
“This is weird.” She set her toothbrush and toothpaste on the sink, then tugged down her panties.
“No, being ashamed of a natural process that all humans do is weird,” he said to the tile wall.
“I’m not going to comment on that at the moment.” Her pants adequately out of range, she said, “Okay. Let go.” Grabbing the towel rack, she held her weight up with her arms until she was completely seated on the toilet. Trying hard to forget about the six-foot-something man standing mere inches away, she stared up at the ceiling and tried to relax.
It didn’t work.
“Are you done yet?” he asked.
“No.”
“Okay,” he said on a sigh, giving her a closed-eyed martyred look.
She tried staring at the floor. That didn’t work either. Finally, she said, “You’re going to have to leave for a couple of minutes. I can’t go.”
“Okay. Knock on the wall when you’re ready for me.” He exited and closed the door. No sooner did the latch click than the flow started.
“Chicken,” she scolded her bladder. A couple of seconds later, she yanked up her shorts while still sitting on the seat, then rapped on the wall. True to his word, Ric reappeared, his eyes closed. “You can open them. I’m dressed.”
He smiled. “Good. Ready to head back to bed?”
“I need to brush first.” She motioned toward the items sitting next to the sink.
Like a true gentleman, he silently held her erect while she washed her hands and brushed her teeth, then carted her back to the comfort of the big bed. “Rest well. I’ll wake you at seven. Will an hour be enough time to do whatever it is you do in the morning?”
“Depends. If I’m able to stand on my own two feet by then—”
“You should be able to.”
“I hope I can. If I don’t need you to hold me up in the shower, an hour should be plenty of time. Thanks.”
He nodded, then left. Again, with nothing but an air kiss to send her off to dreamland.
Was he regretting what they’d done earlier in the field?
Until now she hadn’t. She closed her eyes and tried to push aside the memories of a grassy field, the stars, and one naked Ric.
“What have you done?” a deep voice rumbled through Sophie’s dreams. It was familiar but strange at the same time. It both called to her and repulsed her.
Somewhere between being awake and asleep, Sophie rolled over, fluffed the pillow, and settled into a comfy position again.
“You have betrayed me with another,” the voice said again. Even asleep, the venom making his words sharp and bitter caused her to shudder. “Where is he? He’s close. I won’t let him have you. You’re mine.”
A sharp pain burned up her leg, waking her. Her eyes blinking and bleary, she reached down to see if something sharp had scratched her. She felt warm wetness and lifted her hand to her face.
As expected, the near pitch blackness kept her from seeing more than the slight outline of her hand. She reached up to flip on the reading light mounted to the wall above her head. Also, as expected the light left her momentarily blind, well, nearly blind. She had enough optical abilities to see a couple of vital things—the red blood coating her hand and the dark man standing next to her bed.
What does one do when one’s leg is bleeding and there’s an angry man standing over one? One screams. Unfortunately, said dark, brooding man seemed to have anticipated her reaction. He clamped a cool hand over her mouth before the sound made it past her vocal cords.
That left her with no option but one—fight like hell. Sophie swung her arms wildly; grabbed his cold, clammy arm and dug her fingernails into the flesh; rolled and thrashed; kicked and jabbed—but none of her quasi–kung fu motions seemed to do a bit of good. He held her with effortless ease, one hand still covering her mouth, the other pressing down on her shoulder, pinning her to the mattress. She briefly thought of biting him but quickly changed her mind. He was a vampire. Who knew what the results of biting him would be? It could make her his drone for all eternity.
Instead, she ceased all fighting and struggled to catch her breath through her narrowed nasal passages.
His gaze pierced hers, drilling into her head and giving her a headache. “You will not scream. You will answer me now. Where is he?” The man lifted his hand from her mouth, and although she had every intention of screaming her lungs out, not a peep came out when she opened her mouth. It was a strange sensation. She could feel the vibrations in her throat yet nothing but a soft whooshing sound actually made it out of her mouth.
Furious, she clamped it closed and swung her fists at his midsection. No man stole her thunder!
His gaze became even sharper. “Tell me.”
She tried to force her eyes away from his but they wouldn’t move. Her mouth opened. Words sat on her tongue and no matter how hard she tried to wrestle them down, they found their way through her lips. “Next door.”
Why had she told him that? What was going on? She lunged from the bed, took a single step toward the door, then fell like a moldy old sack of potatoes to the floor. The impact sent all the air from her lungs in a loud “oof.” The result: she lay there struggling to inflate them for at least twenty seconds, which felt more like twenty hours.
“He has poisoned you,�
�� the dark man said, pointing at her legs.
“No, he hasn’t. They’re just…asleep. That’s all. I was…sleeping wrong.” She rubbed her numb appendages briskly, trying to get some blood to them. “You’re the one who poisoned me.”
“Why are you so willing to doubt me and believe him?” The dark man stooped down at her side and stared into her eyes again. His gaze had softened a smidge. It wasn’t so scary anymore. In fact, it was somewhat reassuring and warm.
“I…I…don’t know. Because you’re so rough, I guess.”
“I am sorry for that, cherie.” He gathered her into his arms and she had to admit it didn’t feel too awful being there. The shivers making her teeth chatter stopped. He set her on the bed, then climbed on top of her. His lips, which she had to admit were okay—not as nice as Ric’s but attractive nonetheless—curled into a wry smile. “It’s easy to trust him because he looks so normal, isn’t it?”
“I…suppose.”
The man drew in a deep breath. “Let me guess. He is blond?”
“Yes.”
“And some sort of scientist?”
“A science professor. How did you know?”
“He is a Wissenschaft,” he practically spat. “They are nothing to me. They deny their nature, hiding behind scientific theories and logical explanations. You would never wish to be bound to one of them. If you have not taken the second step, there is still time.”
“Second step?”
“He did not tell you?”
“No…. Tell me what?”
The dark man scowled. “That should not surprise me.”
Still not sure if she could believe this man or the one next door, since they both seemed to be calling the other the enemy, Sophie studied the man’s admittedly semihandsome face for any sign of deceit. She found none in his very dark but also very expressive eyes. Or in the sharp but strong line of his jaw. Or the powerful forehead. Or the firm but alluring set of his mouth.
“Will you trust me?” the man asked, leaning closer. He set those deep, dark eyes on hers, which made her already muddy mind get even muddier.
“I…I don’t know. You haven’t even told me your name. You haven’t told me why you’re here. You haven’t told me anything.”
“Unlike the Wissenschaft I have never denied my nature. I am what you see. I am an Ancient One. Our bloodline is the oldest, our people the most respected of all the Immortals. We have no reason to hide who or what we are. Our people wield great political power. We have members in political seats all over Europe and Asia.”
“That’s very…impressive. But what would you want with someone like me? I’m nobody. I’m not a European monarch or even a regular voter. I spent the last presidential election at home watching reruns of Sex and the City. And I’m not an Immortal…I don’t think.”
He sat next to her and plucked a strand of hair off her shoulder. His nearness didn’t stir the kind of reaction Ric’s did. Instead of shudders of pleasure, shivers of unease danced up her spine.
“I admit, I first came to you as a favor for a friend,” he said in a forlorn voice.
“For whom? What friend? Why? Was it that icky snake? Were you trying to make me kill Dao?” she asked as she watched his thumb stroke her hair. Again, she couldn’t help noticing how cold his touches made her feel inside. Frigid. Lifeless.
“That is not important. What’s important is that now that I’ve seen you, tasted you, I know you must be mine.” He released the tendril he’d been stroking and sighed. “My body burns for your essence. My very soul cries for you. But as much as it pains me, I must let the choice be yours. I will not deceive you, or call upon my powers to force you.” He stood and for the first time in who knew how long, she breathed easy again. “You need time to make your decision. I will return to you tomorrow night.”
That sentence put a sudden stop to the free movement of air in her lungs.
“Oh,” she said once she’d been able to inhale again. “I was hoping I could give you my answer now.”
“Have no fear, my sweeting. As I said, the choice will be yours. I will not do as the Wissenschaft did and inject my poison into your veins, forcing you to do my bidding. My first bite was clean, nearly. I only injected a tiny bit, just enough to make my mark.”
“Poison? Ric? But how? He didn’t bite me.”
“He did. You just have no memory of it. His poison erases all memory.” The man traced a line from her earlobe down to her collarbone, then down the side of her torso. “He bit you here.” He stopped at the swell of her hip.
Her hand dropped to the place he indicated. Her fingers brushed against his as she gently prodded the area, feeling for tenderness.
“For a Wissenschaft his poison is strong. It is the reason why you cannot walk. He wishes to keep you weak, under his control, though he will deny it. He will no doubt deny your inability to walk has anything to do with him.”
Sophie nodded and watched as the man turned toward the window. He glanced out and grimaced. “Sunrise approaches. I must go. Remember, my sweeting, to take care with the Wissenschaft. He will deceive you. He has proven that already.” His long legs carried him to the door in a mere three strides. “When you know whom you can trust, you will come to me for help. And I will happily give it.”
Before he left, she called to him, “Wait.”
His hand on the doorknob, he twisted his neck to look at her. An empty smile spread over his face. “Yes, sweeting?”
“You haven’t told me. What’s your name?”
“Until I know your blood is clean of the Wissenschaft’s poison, I cannot tell you that. Perhaps tomorrow night.” With a gust of cool wind, he left.
Suddenly freezing cold, Sophie wrapped herself in the blankets. Shivers racked her, shaking her worse than the time she’d had pneumonia. When the blankets failed to warm her, even a little, she tested her legs again. They were still weak but seemed capable of carrying her weight a short distance. She wobbled to the bathroom, cranked on the hot water, and took a long, scalding-hot shower.
With a couple of hours before Ric was supposed to come and wake her, she dressed and left the room in search of a computer. She needed to do some reading. About the Wissenschaft and the Ancient Ones. Somehow, this little secretary had just found herself at the center of a love triangle, pursued by not one but two vampires.
She was quite sure—though she had no impulse to check for herself—that hell had just seen its first winter.
Chapter 9
“Oh yes. I am quite certain the Magen David and Romakh Yehowshu’a do exist,” Margaret Mandel, the very attractive woman seated behind the huge mahogany desk, said. Her gaze, as Sophie had noticed from the moment they had entered the room, clung to Ric’s face a whole lot longer than it did to Sophie’s. The woman stood to adjust the blinds for the third time, seemingly intent upon shutting out every sliver of sunlight from the room. “Did you tell me, Mr. Vogel, that you’re doing research for a book? Are you an author?” she asked in a smooth, cultured voice as she returned to her chair.
“Actually, it’s Dr. Vogel. I’m a professor of natural sciences at Midwestern Michigan.”
“How interesting,” the woman said. “You may call me Maggy. I have no need for formalities, though I hold a PhD as well, in European history.”
Ric nodded. “Very well, Maggy. In answer to your question, yes, I am writing a book.”
Her eyes lit up like firecrackers. “Oh, I do adore authors. My husband is an author too. Perhaps you’ve heard of him? Maxwell Mandel. He writes erotic thrillers.”
Sophie recognized the name immediately and finally saw an opportunity to join the conversation. Thanks to the looks Margaret was giving Ric, and the subject matter of the conversation, she was feeling more and more like a third wheel. “I loved Blood Reign.”
“Then you’ll love the sequel, Spirit Reign. It’s releasing next month.” Margaret didn’t bother to slide even a swift glance Sophie’s way.
It wasn’t easy to tamp d
own the unexpected and unwelcome jealousy burning up her insides, especially after reading what she had about Ric’s clan, but she did her best. Dangerous vampire or not, she needed him right now. She needed his help. She needed his expertise. She didn’t need another dose of his potent poison, however, and would make sure to avoid another injection at all costs.
“Wow! That makes what? Six books in one year? How does he do it?” Sophie said, trying to carry on the conversation when all she really wanted to do was turn around and leave both smooth-talking Margaret and sexy, adorable Ric to their love fest. Dao needed her, pronto. She had no time to worry about love triangles and flirtatious historical specialists. She’d called Dao earlier. He wasn’t sounding as energetic as the day before, though he still claimed to be feeling okay.
“He writes morning, noon, and night. I swear he plots his books while he’s sleeping.” Margaret gave Ric a “cat who’s eaten a mouse” kind of smile. “But darned if I can distract him, even for a half hour. Even getting him to take a break to eat a decent meal is a chore. And we’re newlyweds. Only been married two months. I hate to think what it’ll be like after we’ve been married for years. I’ll be forced to take a lover.”
Ric, who seemed to have caught the somewhat obvious suggestion in that last bit, if his red ears were any indication, cleared his throat. “I wish him lots of success. But could we please get back to the spear and shield?”
“Yes, of course. As I was saying, I’m fairly certain the Magen does exist.” She leaned forward and in a low voice said, “I shouldn’t be telling you this because if you put this in your book before my husband’s book releases, years of research will be in vain.”
“I promise the information won’t be released anytime soon,” Ric said in a flat voice that didn’t inspire a bit of faith to Sophie. “My research is not directly tied to the existence of the artifacts but more to their history and application.”
“Is that so?” One overly tweezed eyebrow rose slightly. “I’m intrigued. Would you care to tell me more?”
“Perhaps another time. I’m afraid our time here is short. I have to get back to teach a class tonight.”
A Vampire Bundle: The Real Werewives of Vampire County, When Darkness Comes, Real Vamps Don't Drink O-Neg, & Hunted by the Others Page 72