by Jackie Ivie
He didn’t help much. He floated along as she swam. Watched the moon as it peeked through the buildings. This was a disaster. No. It was a spectacularly emasculating disaster. The canal wasn’t even moving that rapidly. But he had his answer. Running water really was debilitating to a vampire, or maybe it was due to his age. He must need more time to his immortality to gain immunity. Running water probably had the same impact as sunlight.
She rotated him and his chest smacked into a chunk of something. And that frickin’ hurt. He groaned. He’d forgotten that life included pain. She was breathing hard.
“Can you...grab something?”
Nigel tried. He hoped she’d give him that. But his arms had the strength of noodles. He felt her maneuver behind him, put hands on his ass, and shove at him. The move slid him up and onto solid surface, but it also scraped his belly, opening skin. And that hurt, too. He closed his eyes and tried to disappear. And then she spoke, her words sending light right through his heart.
“I can’t...believe...I found you! That was...my third dive!”
She was out of the water next, on her feet, grabbing at his hands, and with several heaves, she got him farther from the water. Each lunge scraped more skin from his chest and belly. That wasn’t going to be pretty if he turned over. But he was free. Nigel could swear he heard suction as the canal gave him up. And then he felt the first flicker of returning strength.
“Are you...all right?”
Nigel rolled his head in her direction. She’d plopped down beside him. Even bedraggled and soaking wet, she was gorgeous. He wrinkled his nose. The leather mask moved with it as though glued into place. He was still wearing that? That was another bit of providence.
And he was still using big words?
“Did you swallow a lot of water? Can you breathe? Do you need mouth-to-mouth resuscitation?”
She rolled him onto his back. Air touched the ripped wounds, sending shards of agony with it. That hurt like hell. Nigel’s cry carried it. But it ended with a mournful note. What the hell was he doing? He’d been about to receive what amounted to a kiss and he’d blown that, too?
“Oh! Thank heaven! You’re alive! You’re breathing!”
“Yeah.” Well. He didn’t have to worry over tone of voice and accent. He sounded like he was chewing on marbles.
“Oh no! Look at your chest. And belly! I am so sorry. Here.”
“No. It’ll be fine. It’s—”
She pulled off her sweater and put it against his wounds. That hurt, too, but the view cancelled out pain before it had a chance to start. She had a perfectly sized bosom. It was being uplifted and held by a lace-bedecked bra. That foundation piece was beneath a linen shirt that was plastered to her with wetness. She had the sweetest nipples poking through all of it.
...and leather felt like absolute cardboard when it was wet. It totally killed an erection. Nigel groaned and tried to sit up. He was forced to slump back. He regarded the dark trails of water leaving his pants to rejoin the canal before looking back up at her. And he couldn’t even control the pulse his body made when their eyes connected.
“I need to get you help,” she told him.
“No.”
“You were underwater for at least five minutes. I think. I guess...maybe I’m wrong. I wasn’t checking. But you’ve got a massive injury to your...”
Her glance dropped to his belly area, before snapping back to his. And then she blushed. And damn! That just made his body do another lurch-thing that shifted his position on the street.
“I’m fine. I will be fine.”
She turned her head to look across the canal. Her profile was stunning. Her lower lip drooped just slightly. Her nose was perfect. Straight. Patrician.
He was thinking in big words and using historical references? He was sounding more like Akron with every moment. He groaned. She glanced back at him. Stole his thoughts.
“We’re on the opposite bank. I don’t know where my bodyguards went to. Or the ones Paul Henry sent. They were a complete failure tonight, though. I don’t know what to do now. I should get you to a doctor.”
“Wait. Here.”
Nigel got his hand to connect with a front pocket. His eased out his slim pack of phones. Slid one out. The effort cost him, though. His hand was shaking as he held it to her.
“Nice phone.”
“Uh. Special order,” Nigel replied.
“You look...familiar,” she told him. “Have we met...before?”
She was getting her wind back. The hesitation in her words came from something else. He could guess what it was. Everything he’d rehearsed to say to her went right out of his head.
“I’m Nigel,” he said.
“Mandy.”
“Hmm. Mandy,” he replied.
“Who...um. Do you want me to call?”
The stammer gave him a glimmer of hope. It came with a really nice shiver that raced along his skin. Nigel’s canines started tingling. He sucked on them. Willed them to retract. She was still waiting expectantly. Holding the phone out. And he was acting like this? He waited another moment. Tried not to slur the numbers around his fangs. “Press 8-4-6,” he finally responded.
“That’s it?”
“Yes.”
Nigel turned his head to look up and silently rehearsed what he was going to tell the boss. Mandy watched him. He didn’t have to verify it. He felt her gaze. The call went through. Lizbeth answered. And thanks to vampiric senses, he could hear everything.
“You’ve reached VAL Headquarters. How may I help you, please?”
“Ask for Akron,” Nigel said.
“I need to speak with Akron, please,” Mandy parroted into the cell phone.
“May I ask who is calling?”
“No need, Lizbeth. I’ve got this one. Hello!”
Akron’s voice was large. Loud. And cheerful. Nigel groaned.
“Um. Hi. I just pulled this gentleman from a canal here in Venice. And he asked me to call.”
“A canal in Venice, you say?”
Great. Just great. Akron wasn’t laughing but he might as well be.
“Yes.”
“I see. Well. Is he all right?”
“I don’t know. He’s weak. And he’s got some really bad wounds. On his chest.”
“May I speak with him?”
She handed him the phone. His arms were still noodles. She held it to his ear.
“Hello Sir.”
“Greetings, Nigel! I see your efforts are progressing nicely.”
“I am wet and disoriented.”
“Well. The effects of your water bath will fade. And I do have to say, I am impressed, my boy. Truly.”
“What?”
“There isn’t a woman alive that doesn’t love to play nursemaid. Let me talk to Mandy again. I’ll take it from here. Oh. You’d better say her name first.”
“Why?”
Akron sighed. The phone vibrated against his ear. “So I can pretend I don’t know who she is, and just asked you for her name. And you told me.”
“Oh. Yes, Sir. Mandy.”
“Very good.”
Nigel moved his ear away and turned his head toward her again. “He wants to talk to you again,” he told her. And almost sighed at how angelic she looked. Moonlight created a halo around her blonde hair as it dried. It wasn’t in the sleek bob anymore. She had a lot of waves.
“Yes?” she asked the phone.
“Please don’t move him. And stay with him. I’ll have a gondola there within minutes.”
“I don’t know...”
“I’m counting on you, Mandy. He told me your name is Mandy?”
“Uh...yes.”
“He means a lot to me, my dear. I’m asking—no. I’ll pay you to see him safely home and...perhaps you’ll stay with him until he recuperates?”
“I don’t need your money.”
“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to offend. I’m just—. I’m in New York. I can get my private jet ready in minutes, but it will t
ake me hours to get to him.”
“Oh. Well. I guess I could stay with him. Until you get here.”
“Thank you, Mandy. Thank you! You are the salve to a father’s worry.”
“I’ll watch him for you.”
“Excellent. Thank you and good-bye.”
She shut the phone. Looked down at him, and then slid the phone back into the pack. Nigel didn’t care. He could always figure out which one was defunct later.
“Was that your father?”
Nigel worked at hiding the smile. It was probably a grimace.
“Oh. Don’t answer. It’s...none of my business.”
“It’s not that. He’s—”
“He’s very concerned about you. It comes across in his voice.”
“I know. Trust me.”
“You’re...rather lucky.”
“Lucky?”
“To have...someone.”
He’d been wrong earlier. Her lower lip was definitely turning down. Her pout sent a surge of fire-tipped emotion through him. If Paul Henry had caused that look...? She blinked several times, and looked up for a few seconds before returning his gaze.
“He said he’d have a gondola here in minutes. That’s kind-a weird. How would he know where we are?”
“Oh. Um. The phone is equipped with satellite tracking.”
“Really? Nice. You know...Nigel? You really do remind me of someone.”
“I hope that’s not a bad thing.”
He tried to sit again. Failed. But not just because she put a hand on one of his shoulders and gave him a gentle push back down, although the contact sent all kinds of sensations through him. It failed because her touch cooled the anger of a moment before and sparked a different heat.
“No! No. Please! Don’t move. We need to...stop your wound from bleeding.”
She licked her lips. He jerked in place. Then she blushed again. And he got a dose of how drying leather pants felt against a hard-on. He almost shoved her sweater down to hide it. This was impossible. And exciting. Almost too much so.
He looked away. Just in time to see the dark shape of a gondola gliding up to their location. And he really should have been surprised to see Akron guiding it, wearing the official gondolier attire of striped shirt and ribbon-wrapped straw hat.
CHAPTER FOUR
Nigel’s family must be very rich.
Very.
Mandy was renting a suite in one of most expensive hotels along the Grand Canal. It billed itself as the crème of Venetian Republic-era luxury. Claimed to be the epitome of sumptuousness. Extravagance. Magnificence. Now she knew that for an exaggeration, if not an outright lie.
Their gondola had gone out into the Grand Canal. Lights and laughter and voices and music from other structures reached them as the boatman worked them along. Mandy recognized the one that was now a hotel. Where she was booked. Good. It was nice to know where she was. And that it wasn’t far. They turned a corner, and then another before the boatman turned them toward solid ground. The palazzo they approached was situated between two darkened edifices that looked forlorn and tired. Nigel’s palazzo looked to be three times the width and at least a story higher than those about it. The outside was pink-hued in the moonlight. Carved white balconies jutted out over the water on three stories, while another walkway wrapped the roof, encircled with an ornamental balustrade. Mandy craned her neck as they approached, and somehow kept the awe from being vocalized.
The gondolier guided his boat through an ornamental archway and right into the building. The bottom floor didn’t appear habitable. The walls looked to be lined with white marble, the same water-resistant stone that supported the entire city. She couldn’t tell for certain. There wasn’t much light, and it came from carved sconces near the ceiling. Holding torches. If she didn’t know better, she’d say they were actually lit, sending golden glints of light off the water and the walls.
The wealth all about her was reassuring. It helped calm any nervousness. She’d rarely been this impulsive. Nor was she this naïve. She was making classic mistakes here. The same ones her uncle had counseled her about when she’d been orphaned and became his ward. A person with her wealth and social connections did not put themselves in compromising positions. They steered away from scandal. Avoided dangerous situations and hazardous complications. They’d never allow themselves to be victimized. And just look. She didn’t know where she was in the city. She didn’t know anything about the man she’d rescued. And she really shouldn’t have mentioned bodyguards! Talk about a mistake. She might as well beg to be kidnapped.
Her situation got worse. She couldn’t call out. She’d lost her phone in the canal. She’d even given Nigel back his little pack of cell phones! The gondolier maneuvered them toward a bit of planking that must work as a pier. The water may have overtaken some of the ground floor here, but it didn’t look to have progressed much. It wasn’t very deep, if sound was any indicator. Mandy moved a little closer to the edge of the seat. Nigel was behind her. He might still be slumped along the seat width where the gondolier had placed him. She’d only checked once. His eyes had glittered strangely from his black mask. She’d gasped and turned back around. There was something about him that disquieted and unsettled. At the same time, it intrigued and excited. She was very aware of him.
And that was dangerous.
The last thing she was looking for was a man in her life.
The gondolier jumped to the pier, skimmed its length with graceful, almost fluid steps, and disappeared through a darkened doorway. She heard him hailing someone from well inside the house. The sound echoed.
“I wish to thank you, Mandy.”
Nigel spoke. She jumped. His voice was a lot deeper than she’d realized. It affected her even more than his presence. She shivered, tipped her head slightly and replied. She didn’t look toward him. It felt safer. And she should have waited. Her question was stammered.
“T-T-Thank me?”
“For rescuing me.”
She smiled slightly. “Then I must thank you for rescuing me first. Although it was...short-sighted of you, since you can’t swim.”
He grunted something. Said something beneath his breath. Mandy smiled.
“It was also extremely brave.”
She looked over her shoulder then. Oh. My. She hadn’t gotten a good look at him earlier. And now? Goose bumps rippled over her skin again. They contained a warning this time. And a message of illicit things. Desire. Interest. Torchlight illuminated him, putting a golden-hued light on lots of skin. He had her sweater held to his belly, but that wasn’t doing much to disguise a very lean, fit, and nicely muscled frame. Too bad he still wore a mask. He was probably very handsome. He had the slightest hint of a mustache atop kissable-looking lips. But it was his gaze that drew, snagged, and then captured. Such eyes! She’d never seen such a shade. His eyes resembled blue gemstones. They were almost neon blue. Sparkling. Multi-faceted. And easily as deep.
He licked his lips, drawing a glance there again. Nigel was actually extremely handsome. And something else. He exuded...something. He might be a complete stranger, but that didn’t seem to stop how her body turned toward him, swiveling on the velvet-covered seat. Going closer. Putting her mouth near his perfectly shaped lips. Kissable. Moist...
“Everything is prepared, young master.”
Mandy jerked back at the feeble and weak-sounding words. She instantly dropped her gaze, and turned back around. She even managed to hold back a gasp, but didn’t know how. The depth of her blush was another matter, entirely. She’d never been this forward! She’d acted practically brazen. She didn’t know what had gotten into her.
There was a manservant wearing a long black coat and a wide-brim hat shuffling along the pier. “I was told to assist you...to your room.”
“Oh. No. No. You have got to be kidding me.”
Nigel answered. His voice was even lower. Rough. And had an edge to it that she instantly recognized and responded to. He sounded almost frustrated.
“Come along now, Master Nigel.”
“No way. Please. I can walk.”
“Nonsense. Not in your weakened condition.”
The manservant reached the boat. He stepped into the craft, rocking it wildly with each step as he neared. That was foolhardy.
“My...what?” Nigel asked.
Mandy scooted to one side, making room for the man, so he wouldn’t tip them over.
“You know the doctors specifically warned against this type of activity.”
“Excuse me?” Nigel replied.
“Perhaps...I should get a ride back to my hotel?” Mandy offered.
“Oh, no, Miss. Please. I am up well past the normal. I do hope you’ll forgive my familiarity. I’ve been with the family for years. I sometimes overstep my bounds. And the young master? Well. He has...a condition. It’s congenital.”
Nigel groaned. Mandy’s glance flew to him. Was he an invalid? That would explain so much! And that made his attempt to save her even more amazing.
“Master Nigel? Allow me to assist. There.”
The servant helped Nigel to his feet and put an arm about his shoulders. Nigel seemed all right with it. This might be a normal state of affairs. That reassured her even more about her decision to accompany him. Mandy held onto the gondola and waited for the boat to settle before following. The pier was more stable than it looked, and there was a row of stonework along the wall to walk on. And then they went through the same doorway the gondolier had taken. There wasn’t a sign of him. The servant was talking again.
“Please, young sir. You don’t want to waste your strength.”
“Oh. Come on already,” Nigel replied.
“His strength?” Mandy questioned.
“You listening, Miss? Excellent. Master Nigel suffers from a condition called anaphylaxis. He’s allergic to many things. Intensely so. Life-threatening at times.”
“Does that include water?”
“It could. But sunlight is the main issue. He has extreme photosensitivity. The entire palazzo was retrofitted to protect the family from it. Come along, please. We’ll just see him settled. See to bandaging the wound I’ve been told he has. And then I’ll be leaving him to your care. Now. Don’t fuss so, Master Nigel. I know what I am doing. Trust me.”