by Connie Hall
She glanced around and saw that he’d caught the eye of almost every woman in the restaurant—including herself, if she dared admit it.
Then he spoke and broke the moment. “Back in those days—” his smile disappeared “—we had to take extreme precautions when feeding. It wasn’t like now. We didn’t have supernatural organizations cleaning up our messes.” Striker’s eyes glazed over, and he wasn’t looking at her any longer but lost in the past.
“That must have put a damper on things. I guess Bathory was one of the ones who got caught.”
“She grew careless, greedy, took more than her quota.”
“Quota?”
“Less humans to feed on, thus less vampires. Strict lines were drawn among hunting grounds. Of course, wealthy vampires like Raithe had larger areas.”
“I see. That whole prey-versus-population thing.” Takala ate a bite of bread, though she was no longer hungry and it sat in her mouth like a soggy mushroom.
“Anyway, Morgan was one of Raithe’s many concubines. He exploited her dark magic for his own purposes, and when he grew bored with her, he just dropped her. She took a fancy to me, though, and began using me to make Raithe jealous.”
“So you stayed in Raithe’s family from Roman times to the sixteen hundreds?”
“Not all of that time. My visits were sporadic. I’d get bored with being ruled by him and leave the family for a couple hundred years at a stretch, but I always returned.”
“The prodigal son.”
“Something like that,” he said, his voice distant, still stuck in the dark annals of his life.
“Until Morgan interfered.” Just saying the woman’s name set free the green-eyed monster inside her. She knew jealousy had no business taking up residence in her, but she had let it move in.
“Yes, she made Raithe so full of envy he and I almost came to blows. That night, Raithe told me the truth.”
“The truth?”
“About my sister and parents. He killed them, drained them dry. Raithe had just turned me weeks before he murdered them, so I couldn’t go back to my house and check on my family for fear of feeding on them.” He fought to keep his face neutral, but a brief flash of unspoken pain broke through.
Emotion tugged at her heart. She empathized with his plight. Loving his family, but knowing it was too dangerous to get near them, later learning of their murder and feeling responsible for their deaths. She had always felt to blame for her mother’s abandonment. She’d been too bad, or eaten too much, or cried more than she should. Guilt was no stranger. She knew it all too well. She wanted to touch him, comfort him, but his grim expression stopped her. Yet she couldn’t help but feel the intimate disclosure bonded them together somehow.
After a moment, he said, “You know what really stabs me? Back then I believed anything Raithe told me, and he said they had died in a fire. I was so gullible.”
“You couldn’t help it. He was your maker. You were under his spell.”
His brows snapped into an annoyed line, as if not wanting to hear justification for his behavior. Then he said, “That was no excuse. All lies. I should have known that he had killed them then set fire to their home. When he later blurted the truth in a fit of jealous rage, he mocked me for my ignorance. I wanted to kill him then.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No, I had to choose the right moment. He was older than me and stronger, and he had a host of loyal subjects who would defend him to the death.” Frustration smoldered in his eyes as he paused then said, “Waiting to end his life was another mistake I made. He found out where I slept and sent his henchmen to kill me.”
“But you managed to escape?”
“Yes, I had a human mate who kept watch for me while I slept. She saved my life.”
“Who was she?”
“A gentle lady.”
“And you didn’t harm her?”
He looked offended. “I never killed my mates.”
“Did you make her a vampire?”
“Only because she wanted it,” he said, his voice more open, relaxed.
“Is she still alive?”
“Raithe eventually lured her to her death during the Inquisition. She was burned at the stake. I could not save her.”
“Did you love her?” Takala sucked in her breath and waited for his response.
His eyes turned the deep color of wood violets. “I wish I could say I did, but I was a selfish creature. I hate to think what I was back then….” His words trailed off, and he seemed to fight a war with his emotions.
For some reason his response pleased her. “So, what happened with Raithe?” she asked, tossing him back to the original story.
“Morgan had heard what transpired between us and of Raithe’s treachery. She spread the word about why I left and what Raithe had done, and his subjects revolted. But not soon enough.”
“Soon enough?” Takala hated to ask.
“I heard Raithe killed them all and put their heads on pikes around the castle wall.”
“And you?”
“I vowed never to share his depravity or degradation again.”
“But you can’t let go of the need for revenge. So he still has left his mark on you.”
His expression looked completely bared, open in a way she had never seen. She had a feeling she was glimpsing a side of him that he rarely let the world see.
“I cannot argue with you there.” His lips strained in a taut smile.
Takala couldn’t pass judgment on him for wanting revenge. If someone had killed her sisters, she wouldn’t stop until she found justice. But Striker had gone one step further and made pursuing Raithe his whole existence. His need for revenge could destroy him and anyone else who happened to be unfortunate enough to step in his way, including herself and Lilly.
They lapsed into silence. The low hum of conversation and the soft melody of a piano floated between them.
He looked lost in thought, absently stroking the dimple in his chin.
What would it feel like to run her fingers down the dip in his chin? She found her hand moving toward his face, and she grabbed her glass instead. She chugged the last of the Merlot and said, “Have you considered that if you stop looking for Raithe, he’s perverse enough to come looking for you?”
“I have tried that in the past. He’s always one step ahead of me. Once I heard nothing of him for a whole century. I thought he’d been killed, but then I walked into a concentration camp in Germany after the war and found a vampire there who said Raithe had been getting his supply of blood from the victims, but he had moved on when they were shut down.”
Was Raithe one of the assistants to Dr. Mengele? The thought repulsed her. The more she learned about Raithe, the more convinced she was that he had to be destroyed.
An idea struck her and she said, “You know what the problem was? You didn’t have the right lure.”
“Lure?”
“Me.” She beamed a million dollar grin at him.
His expression turned to pale marble. “It’s too dangerous.”
“It’s worth a try, isn’t it? Maybe it’s the one edge you need to finally get him.”
He mulled that one over for a moment and said, “You might have something there.”
“Okay, so my blood is extra yummy—you said so yourself. If we put a taste of it out on the street, it might entice him to find me.”
“Culler will be all the temptation we need.”
“Don’t use Lilly as bait when you have me. He’ll just keep sending assassins to find her and kill her and never show up himself. My way is better. We’ll be more in control. I’ll be nothing but cooperative, where Lilly will not.”
Indecision and vexation moved along his brow. “It will take more than just your blood alone.”
“What do you mean?”
“You will be more of a temptation to him if he believes you are my mate.” The shimmer in his eyes turned darker and calculating, the gaze of a predator.
T
he danger in them frightened her and thrilled her as she said, “So, how do we make him believe that?”
“We’ll find a way.” His gaze roved seductively down to her breasts, then up again and swept her lips, then her eyes.
The open, hungry look turned her insides to jelly. A shiver of wanting swelled inside her. Had she’d just sold her soul to the devil? Maybe she had.
Chapter 18
“How long will this take?” Takala glanced over at the agent Striker had called Doc. He was thin and reedy and had a pencil head with a mop of carrot-red hair. He wore jeans and a long-sleeved black T-shirt and carried a large briefcase. And he was definitely no doctor.
“Just about done.” Doc tapped the swollen sides of the leeches.
Striker had left her in what he called the command center, which was just a suite at the end of the hall from her own room. It was decorated in generic red and blue paisleys and stripes and had a living area and small bar. Several doors led to, she guessed, bedrooms. Striker had made Brawn exit the room with him and left Takala alone with Katalinga and Doc for the bloodletting. Takala guessed Striker thought she’d be more comfortable with a woman present. But it hadn’t worked. Something about being in a room with Doc was distressing no matter who was with her.
She would have preferred that Striker stayed, but she knew he couldn’t handle the sights and smells of her blood. In fact, he’d just left her here and exited without saying a word. Katalinga had done all the explaining of what would happen to Takala under Doc’s aid.
Takala noticed that Katalinga seemed fully recovered from her wound at the airport. The cleaners must have done the trick. She wore a double-knit blue pantsuit, striped red shirt, and blue suede boots, an outfit right out of the original Avengers set. She paced impatiently near the door, her catlike movements graceful, sleek and inaudible. Takala couldn’t get Katalinga’s shifter image out of her mind, and she could almost see her tail swaying as she walked.
Takala’s gaze shifted back to Doc. “Using the leeches seems like we’ve stepped back in history four hundred years.”
“Actually, leeches are used in medicine today to drain excess blood. You just don’t hear about it.”
“So this is the only accepted way to take my blood.”
“The only way a vampire likes it. Needles give off a plastic metallic taste, and my little babies here—” he gazed down at the squirming worms on her arm as if mesmerized “—leave no aftertaste. It’s definitely the preferred method for a true sampling.”
“Oh.” Takala refused to look at her arm.
Instead she watched Doc’s T-shirt ripple as the leeches on his chest writhed against his skin. Not a much more pleasant sight. She was thankful he hadn’t lifted his shirt when he’d pulled off the leeches. He’d just slid a hand underneath and come out with a handful of wriggling slimy black parasites. She couldn’t figure out what type of creature Doc was, and at the moment she wasn’t in the mood to ask him, but bloodsuckers seemed to play a major role in his existence. He gave new meaning to the term leech.
“Well, it looks as if we’re almost done here.” Doc bent and examined the leeches, probing the ones hooked to her arm one last time. “Did you know they have light-sensitive cells called eyes right here?” He pointed to the head of one. “And they have male and female reproductive organs.”
“Hmm, how interesting!” Takala nodded, acting fascinated, but learning way more than she wanted or ever needed to know about leeches.
“My little darlings have done their part. They didn’t hurt you, did they?” He smiled and wore the expression of a dog owner whose dog just bit you, his yellowish teeth glistening with thick saliva.
“They didn’t,” she said. They were just way up there on the gross-factor scale.
“It’s the hirudin they secrete.”
“What’s that?” She wondered how much hirudin Doc drooled on his pillow at night.
“Chemical they secrete that keeps the blood from thickening so they can drink it easier. And it deadens the pain of the extraction. That’s why they’re so much better than needles. No waste, no pain, nothing to throw away later. Au naturel.”
Takala wanted to tell him she didn’t see anything natural about having parasites attached to your body, but she kept that to herself.
Doc began pulling off his darlings and carefully putting them back under his shirt. He extracted the last of the engorged creatures from her forearm.
Katalinga paused near them, lifted her nose and inhaled deeply, a serene look on her face as if she couldn’t get a large enough whiff of Takala’s blood to satisfy her.
Takala noticed her blood must have hit Doc’s bloodstream, for the whites of his eyes turned artery red. Then he tilted his head back and got this dreamy look on his face. “My, my, your blood is special. I feel as if I can do anything.” There was that slimy smile again.
“Lucky you. How about just finishing up here,” Katalinga said, motioning with her head toward the door from where they all knew Striker was impatiently waiting to enter.
Doc gave Takala an understanding look, sobered quickly and regained his composure. He blew on the eight red spots on her arm, his breath hot on her skin and smelling a lot like a swamp in the middle of summer. The wounds disappeared right before her eyes.
“Perfect,” he said.
“So, how will my blood get on the street?” Takala asked.
“The leeches will distribute it.”
“And you’ll dispense them?”
Katalinga said, “Doc will get your blood to the right places. He’s in big demand in the vampire community.”
“Abso-freakin’-lutely. Command my own price.” He made a sour face at Katalinga and added, “When I’m not doing jobs for B.O.S.P.”
What did Striker hold over Doc’s head to force him to work for B.O.S.P? He spoke with a definite American accent, not French. Did he patronize only vampires and go wherever he was needed or forced to work?
“You’re paid well enough.” Katalinga cut her cat eyes at him.
“I will be this time. One taste and her blood will be some of the most expensive I’ve ever sold. Definitely a bidding war.”
“Just get the right bidders,” Katalinga said.
Takala asked, “What if Raithe isn’t among the bidders?”
“He has spies everywhere,” Doc said. “Trust me, when the buzz about the quality of your blood gets around, he’ll send an emissary.”
“How will they know who to contact?” Takala asked.
“Don’t worry, this isn’t the first bidding war I’ve had.” Something ugly blazed in Doc’s eyes. “It’ll all be set up properly. I’ll sell you to the highest bidder in no time flat.”
“Wow, I’ve never been a commodity before.”
“Consider it a mark of distinction,” Doc said with a greasy grin.
Takala didn’t feel very distinguished as she watched the head of a leech emerge above Doc’s collar, then slither back down. She hoped she would never have to work with him again. She gulped and averted her gaze; then there was a loud, succinct knock.
Katalinga opened the door and said, “We’re done.”
Brawn eyed Katalinga and looked at her as if the twenty minutes they had been apart made him nervous.
Takala wondered if Katalinga knew Brawn was in love with her. How come she could read other guys’ feelings, just not in her own boyfriends? Something was definitely wrong with her.
“Where’s Dark?” Katalinga asked, a slight, barely perceptible purr in her voice that hadn’t been there a moment ago. It sounded huskier, a tad sexier. Maybe she wasn’t as oblivious to Brawn’s fondness for her as she seemed.
So, there might be romance ahead for these two. She hoped it ended better than her own relationships.
“Said he had to leave the building,” Brawn said. “He’ll be back here any minute. Left orders for me to take Doc wherever he needed to go.”
“Who’s watching Lilly Smith?” Takala asked.
Brawn said, “Don’t worry, she can’t move a muscle without us knowing. Want a peek?”
“Sure.”
Brawn pulled out his phone and leaned over toward Takala.
In the screen, Takala viewed Lilly watching television. The screen flicked shadows over her face. She had that zombie, dead-eyed look of someone who had overdosed on the tube.
“She hasn’t budged,” Brawn said.
Hiding out didn’t seem to bother her. Takala guessed she was used to it in her line of work. She hoped Lilly stayed there. At least she was safe. “Thanks,” she said.
Brawn snapped his phone shut.
Doc gathered up his black bag and took Takala’s hand. “Been a pleasure.”
She stared at his squirming chest and hoped they never met again. What she said was, “Same here.”
Doc grinned and watched her as Brawn escorted him out the door, asking him where he needed to go.
Katalinga was about to walk Takala back to her room, but Striker materialized. His lean, handsome face grim, his purple eyes ominously focused on her. She felt the tension emanating from him, an intense impatience.
What did he have in mind? His voice kept repeating in her head. “We’ll find a way.” To make Raithe believe they were mates. She tried very hard not to give away her nervousness and excitement, but her heart fluttered like it had wings and her palms grew clammy.
His eyes raked over her body as if he’d like to be the first bidder for her blood. “I’ll walk you back to your room,” he said, his mesmerizing voice filled with that self-assured, confident timbre that could charm and allure but also strike terror into anyone he chose, a silver-tongued devil. Still, truth be known, she’d missed him the half an hour they’d been apart.
Katalinga nodded, an amused twinkle in her eyes. Then she turned on her heels and walked back into the command center.
“Did Doc treat you well?” Striker asked with genuine concern in his voice…and something warmer, something much more than casual interest.