“What else would you call a raven?”
“Right. Good point.” Kara nearly smiled. He must have read Poe in high school, too. “No offence, but have you ever considered getting another kind of pet? A dachshund or something?”
“Lenore is not a pet.”
“Familiar?” Kara guessed.
“No. She just lives with me.”
“Why?”
His brow furrowed. “I… don’t know.”
Tanya again.
Kara cleared her throat. “At least, the bird’s companionship for you. Kind of.” It got lonely living alone. She knew that, all too well. This time with Damien was the longest she’d spent with anyone outside of work in ages. “I have goldfish, myself.” Which, hopefully, Gemma would feed for her, if she was stuck here much longer.
“The raven and I are not companions. She would much prefer to be free. And actually I…” He opened his mouth, then closed it again and shook his head.
“What?” She prompted when he remained quiet.
Damien lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I don’t actually like birds.” He murmured, almost to himself. “I never have.” He looked confused by that revelation.
Kara’s jaw dropped. Tanya wouldn’t have written that opinion for him. No way. Damien somehow slipped outside the lines of his paper character and thought it up himself. He’d said things before that didn’t sound very Eternal Passion at Sunset-y, but this was the first time he’d really thought independently without her prompting him or without him quickly frowning it away. Damien could feel things that weren’t on the page. Evolve his own personality. How was that possible?
The carriage rolled to a stop and Damien opened the door to climb out.
“We’re here.” He announced when Kara just sat there. “You’re the one who wanted to come to this Wild West Show, remember?”
She gave her head a quick shake. “Right. Sorry.” This seemed like the most likely place to start her Melessa search. The girl had run off and joined the cowboy circus. What a stupid plot twist.
The abundant skirts got in Kara’s way as she tried to move. She exhaled in frustration. Tanya’s version of 1892 couture wasn’t like the normal John Singer Sargent paintings of society ladies in white, lacy dresses. It looked a lot more like a Deborah Kerr dancing in the King and I. The skirt was huge and totally wrong for the decade of this story.
When she got back to reality, Kara was going to track Tanya St. Clair down and punch her. Did the woman even own a computer? Was she allergic to Google image search?
At least the dress was a soft, silk fabric and the vibrant pink color suited her. Sitting perfectly motionless, Kara probably would have looked like sensational… in a costume party sort of way. When she was trapped in this carriage forever and wound up buried in this monstrosity, she’d have that going for her at the funeral. Her corpse would look fabulous.
“I’m stuck.” She pulled on the edge of her skirt, wishing it would just rip. “Remind me why I couldn’t wear my own clothes, again?”
“Your other clothes were inappropriate for public.”
“Well, I liked them better.”
“As did I.” Ebony eyes went to the gold anklet Kara wore as she hoisted up the dress and tried to yank herself free. “Showing so much of your body could have caused a riot, though, so I thought this was more inconspicuous.”
“Yeah, I’m blending right in.” She blew out an aggravated breath. “Well, are you going to help me or what?”
His gaze stayed fixed on her legs.
She glowered over at him.
“Of course.” Damien stepped forward, his palm going to her calf and sliding down, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Kara jolted at the brief contact, her skin tingling. Tanya St. Clair hadn’t wasted a lot of time researching historical undergarments, either. Probably, she thought they’d get in the way of the sex scenes. Under the dress, Kara just wore some scraps of black lace. It made her feel incredibly exposed as Damien’s fingers worked to free her. She swallowed at the warm, rough touch of his hand.
He made a soothing sound, sensing her tension. “You’re caught on the door. Just wait.” His thumb ran along the thin, sparkly chain at her ankle, like it fascinated him. Even though that had absolutely nothing to do with her trapped dress. “What does this signify?”
“It signifies me liking jewelry. Hurry up.” Kara watched as he untangled the voluminous fabric of her ball gown and tried to distract herself from the feel of him. “So, where did you find this getup, anyway? Hell?”
“No, I made it for you.”
“You made this?” Kara was surprised. “You can sew?”
Damien regarded her blankly for a beat. Then his cruel, beautiful mouth curved in something like amusement. “No.” He finally got her free and caught her around the waist, to help her descend. “I made it with magicks.” He lifted her from the carriage, so her body slid against his, holding her so her feet just barely touched the ground.
“Oh.” Kara tried not to be overcome by his sinister hotness. He was another character losing out on a fortune in Hollywood. Damien exuded a lethal combination of seduction and menace that would have sold like buttered popcorn. “Ya know, it worries me that I was more impressed with the idea of you using a sewing machine than of casting mystical spells.”
“That worries me, too.” He still hadn’t released her waist. She was almost even with his mouth. “So much about you worries me, though.” She could barely hear the words. His eyes drifted down to her lips.
Kara’s heartbeat sped up. He was so friggin’ gorgeous… And fictional. She had to remember that. Damien wasn’t real. No matter how three-dimensional and really, really touchable he seemed. “You don’t want to kiss me.” She blurted out, more for her benefit than his.
“I don’t?” The words whispered across her skin.
She swallowed. “It’s not in the book.”
One black eyebrow arched in challenge. “Then, isn’t it lucky that I write my own scripts?” His lips slammed against hers, plundering.
Whoa!
Fireworks went off in Kara’s head as the blackguard of the novel ravaged her. Why the hell would anybody want Slade and team Cub Scout when they could be with the bad guy? Holy God, could Damien kiss. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced. Kara’s arms went around his neck, her mouth opening under his. Accepting. Kissing him back. Drowning in him. It was like kissing was always supposed to be, but never was. Passion and light and magic.
Damien was magic.
He hadn’t been expecting her enthusiastic response. Damien faltered for a split second as he felt her kiss him back, like he couldn’t quite believe it. Like he’d been anticipating rejection or a punch in the jaw. When her tongue touched his, she felt his triumphant groan all through her body. His mouth grew more insistent, his natural aggression taking over. Kara’s toes hit the ground more firmly as he loosened his grip, his lips never leaving hers.
He was shocked by the flash-ignition, too. She could tell by the slam of his heart and the way he roughly pressed her against the side of the carriage. Trapping her. Kara whimpered, so turned on it was amazing her knees could even support her.
The submissive sound just inflamed him more. “Cari.” He breathed jaggedly. “Mine.”
No one really called her ‘Carrie,’ but the warm accent and gallons of want he put on the nickname made it sound just fine. Her body arched closer to him. Rocking. Needing.
Damien’s hand came up to hold her hair, angling her head just the way he wanted it. All she felt was heat and sensation and want. He kissed her like he might never stop.
Kara had never been so out-of-control. In that moment, Damien could have done anything and she would have allowed it. His free hand came up nearly touching her breast…
“You gonna pay me, mister?” The carriage driver yelled. “I don’t have time for you two to conoodle, ya know.”
The words jolted through Kara like cold water. She jerke
d away from Damien, her breath came in short pants. What was she doing? Jesus, she hadn’t even had a date in eight months and she was about to let Damien just tear her clothes off?! She was conoodling with a strange man on a public street. It was a fake public street and she wasn’t real clear on what conoodling was exactly, but still it was insane.
“Wait.” Kara’s palm went flat on his chest. A small gesture of resistance as she tried to think. “We have to stop.” Her body howled at that decision, wanting Damien. She shook her head and eased away from him. “We have to stop.”
He obviously didn’t love that plan. She could feel the sexual frustration coming off him in waves. Damien reluctantly released her, his thumb touching her mouth before falling away. Ebony eyes stayed locked on Kara for a timeless moment, then he very slowly swiveled his head to look at the driver. It was an animalistic, predatory movement that had Kara’s throat going dry.
The smaller man shrank back at the savagery in Damien’s glare. It was pretty clear who Damien blamed for Kara ending the kiss. The impatient comments were about to get shoved right down the driver’s throat. Like all up-to-no-good Black Hats, Damien did not like interference from the townsfolk. He actually started towards the human, intent on reestablishing why he was the novel’s biggest hard ass.
It occurred to Kara that she was about to witness a grisly murder. Literally. Walk-on character or not, she didn’t want the driver to die. Didn’t want Damien to kill him. “No.” She caught hold of his arm. “Don’t, Damien.”
He glanced down at her and she could see the primitive frustration on his tight face. She remembered Slade’s prattle from the night before. How Wizard Warlocks were less civilized than the Vampires. Closer to their elemental instincts. Damien was written to be a brutal, amoral creature in elegant clothing.
But, he was so much more than that.
Kara shifted so she was between Damien and the carriage driver. “No.” Reaching up to touch his face, she forced him to look right at her. “Leave him be, Vlad. For me.”
Damien stood perfectly still for a long moment.
She gently brushed the lightning bolt scar, which was on his cheek today. “Decapitating a guy will not be a good way to get me conoodling with you again, any time soon.”
The lighter tone finally registered with him. Damien blinked, rapidly, like he was coming out of a trance. His gaze focused on her, something hungry in its depths. Something shocked and resigned. Something almost desperately yearning. His cheek pressed against her palm, just the tiniest bit, and his eyes closed. “Cari.” He whispered it like a surrender.
Kara’s heart melted. “Good sorcerer.” She winked and headed for the entrance of the Wild West Show, tugging him along by the sleeve. He could have overpowered her in a heartbeat, but he didn’t. Damien just slanted the driver another vicious look as the carriage drove away. Apparently, the human wasn’t going to risk decapitation for two cents, or whatever cabs cost in this century.
Kara couldn’t blame him.
She shone a smile at Damien, feeling pretty damn good. “Well, that’s one way to beat the fare.” She should have just agreed to let him teleport them to their destination, but she didn’t feel like being fall-down seasick, again.
The streets were packed with people, most of whom took one look at Damien and scooted right out of the way. Once again, he dressed like someone out for a day of Victorian era ax-murdering. The long black coat and hat didn’t exactly scream summertime fun. At least he didn’t have the walking stick today. He seemed fine with his police sketch, ‘Have You Seen This Man?” style clothes, but the tourists were giving him a wide berth.
And, to be fair, it wasn’t all Tanya’s lousy fashion sense making him so damn scary looking. Damien’s dark aura was more pronounced than ever as he prowled along. If this was a werewolf novel, Kara would have sworn he was about to turn lupine on her.
She cleared her throat, unnerved by the feral intensity in his eyes. “Okay, seriously, do we want to talk about what just happened? Not the ‘you almost going to jail for homicide’ thing. The other kissing-ish part.”
“I’m going to mate with you.” His voice was more rusty than ever. “What else is there to discuss?”
He’d apparently missed the fine points of this being a romance novel. The blunt finality of this statement should not have had her insides dipping. “Well, as lovely a sentiment as that is, it’s not without complications, because of who we are.”
“I know who you are.” The words were flat. “I think I must’ve known from the beginning.”
He wasn’t listening to her. “Damien, the point is you can’t really know what you want.”
“Because, I’m just a figment of some exercising woman’s imagination? A character in a book?”
“You don’t want to hear it, but it’s true.”
“Well, if it is, than that’s the least of my problems.” He headed into the Wild West Show, greatcoat swirling, like he wanted to put some distance between them.
Kara blinked.
He had problems?
Chapter Seven
The supernatural world was overwhelming to an innocent, gently-bred girl like Melessa. So many species. So many powers and surprises. How could she ever get through it without Slade’s guidance? Luckily, he was ever at her side. Slade was so kind and gentle and understanding, without of course, ever being the least bit unmanly or unsure. Always aware of her feelings, strong without losing his compassion for the little people, and innately good to all. He was perfect. Her mate was a true hero.
He’d told her so himself.
Eternal Passion at Sunset- Chapter Seven
“You know, you don’t have to be such a stubborn jackass. If you’d open your mind just a tiny bit, you’d see that I’m right about this being a novel.” Kara hurried along beside Damien, taking another stab at convincing him that she was right and he was wrong. “This fake 1892 Chicago doesn’t even make sense.”
“Very little has made sense since I met you, Kara Lynn.” Kiss or not, he was grouchier than ever. “You confuse everything.”
Tourists ebbed and flowed around them, all preparing for the start of the Wild West Show. The more time she spent here, the harder it was to remember that the people were fake. They each looked different and distinct. All of them laughed and moved and breathed. Everything seemed real. No one would ever be able to blindly accept that it was all just make-believe.
But, she wanted Damien to believe her, anyway.
She needed it.
Kara didn’t blame Damien for not seeing the truth of it, but she felt compelled to try and convince him. “I confuse things? Oh, no, no, no. Things were confused when I got here, pal. I mean, look at the way you talk. Why do you talk the way you do if it’s 1892? With the modern slang and swearing?”
“Because, it is modern.” It was difficult to keep up with the long, gliding pace of his walk. “This is the way everyone talks here in the present.”
“No, it’s not, because 1892 is not the present.” Kara tried a different track. “And what about the clothes, huh? We have like fifty different time periods going on around here.” She waved a hand at the crowd’s eccentric mix of everything from Tudor dresses to ‘30s gangster movie chic. “And what about the fact that I don’t even think the Wild West Show looked like this. I’ve seen pictures of it.”
“Except it does look like this. I can tell because I’m looking at it.”
Kara wanted to rip her hair out and, for once, the impulse had nothing to do with her frustration at the wild curls themselves. “Inventions, then. You have to see that’s wrong. I don’t even think half this stuff’s been invented, yet.”
“Except it has.” Damien headed towards the ticket vendor, who was presently selling admission to two guys in spats. “Shall we keep going with this logic?”
Kara made an aggravated sound at his unflappable answers. What was even the point in trying to get Damien to see how wonky this all was? He didn’t know any other reality. Eve
rything that seemed so weird to her, he accepted as normal. He just wanted to be an obstinate…
Her annoyed thoughts trailed off with an incredulous gasp as Damien nonchalantly stole the admission tickets from the other men. Without breaking his stride, he just yanked the vouchers right out of their hands and he continued on his way.
He didn’t even register their astonishment at being blatantly mugged for Wild West Show admission. Damien slapped the blue tickets against his palm and headed onward without even a flicker of remorse. Neither of his frightened victims looked willing to follow him and fight about it, either. Having a dark aura came in handy for crime-sprees.
Kara was a lot harder to terrorize. “Give those back!” She hurried around him, cutting off his strolling getaway, so either he had to stop or run right into her. “Right now, Damien. I mean it.”
He had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. She could read the confusion on his face as he frowned down at her. “Do what?”
“The tickets. You stole them. Give them back and buy your own.”
He squinted a bit, like he wasn’t sure she was really serious. “Give them… back?”
“Yes! Lord.” She snatched them away from him and shot him a glower. “You shouldn’t be robbing people.” Didn’t he get that? Probably not. Casual evilness was just second nature to him. She headed back over to the men, shoving the tickets to into their hands, again. “Sorry about that he’s just…” The villain.
The innocent victims didn’t seem thrilled to be helped. One look at Damien sweeping back in their direction had them scampering off in terror.
He sighed, clearly frustrated with her and the world. “Why must you make things so complicated for me?” The way he said it, Kara had the feeling he was talking about more than simply the cost of admission.
“Just buy the tickets, Damien.” She gave him a prompting shove towards the vendor and shook her head in exasperation.
Hopefully, he could get through the performance without killing anyone, because a part of Kara was looking forward to this. Pretend reality or not, she actually felt excited. She stared up at a banner announcing a ten o’clock show.
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