She pushed out of his arms, turned to face him.
Her mouth opened.
But nothing came out.
He was standing above her, strong muscled arms braced on the wall, effectively caging her in. His wonderful face serious as those fabulously blue eyes were filled with his love for her as they stared into hers. Annoyance with him simply slipped away. She loved that face. Just loved it. She loved his high cheekbones, the strong and totally masculine jaw, the firm mouth made for kissing. And then her eyes slid down defined pecs, the six pack, the flat belly to an erection that pulsed as it seemed to reach for her.
He'd never been shy of showing her his body. He'd never, ever, hid his need for her. And it was painfully obvious he needed her now. Of its own volition, her hand reached out to whisper a finger down his shaft to his scrotum. The low growl was almost a purr and the sound did amazing things to the liquid heat deep in her belly where arousal bloomed like the petals of a flower opening to the sun.
Her eyes flicked to his, went wide. "Are you using sex to get on my good side?"
His mouth twitched, the dimple flashed.
Those blue eyes went all wicked.
"Is it working?"
Now her arms went around his neck as she stood on her tip-toes to match her mouth with his. Her body pressed against the sleek and slippy hard heat of his.
"Might be."
The sound of an alert from his cell phone made Marcus close his eyes and groan out loud.
Then his mouth was on hers as his hands moved to grip her backside and lift her. Long legs wound around his waist as he entered her with a single thrust of his hips.
Hot.
Tight.
Wet.
He heard another alert from his cell.
Swearing, he lifted her from him and set her feet on the tile.
His forehead dropped to hers.
And he read a deep disappointment that only matched his own.
The sound from his phone was an urgent summons from his father.
No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't ignore it.
"Fuck."
His wife closed her eyes and pressed another hot kiss. This one filled with a promise of good things to come later, to his mouth. Then she stepped away.
"Maybe something's happened. You'd better go."
He nodded, grabbed a towel, wrapped it around his waist and grabbed one to dry his hair.
"I won't be long. Don't you dare fall asleep before I return."
Her dark eyes went wide as if to say, As if.
The look on her face made him grin.
How fucking lucky was he to have such a woman in his life?
She might bust his balls on a regular basis, but he loved her.
With every breath he took, with every move he made, he loved Anais.
"I'll wait for you," she promised.
Chapter Sixteen
Anais never held a grudge.
And instead of having make-up sex with his wife, Marcus had been summoned to see his father. Urgently. He'd showered and dressed in a business suit, shirt and silk tie, just in case it was an emergency virtual business meeting. They'd been having a lot of those since flying between continents was banned. The Ebola flu outbreak was causing chaos and disruption across the globe. Australia had prohibited flights in and out and their navy was taking a hard-line with anyone escaping across the ocean to their shores. They were blasting boats out of the water. A bit extreme, but who could blame them?
The death toll in Africa was already in hundreds of thousands with people fleeing into neighbouring countries and spreading disease. He knew all the world health organizations were on their knees as the CDC and global pharmaceutical companies were desperately testing vaccines on human guinea pigs, but so far no one had had a breakthrough. And now another virus, this time a mutation of swine and bird flu had come together in China and it was spreading like a bush fire. And just to add to the misery, after two undersea earthquakes, scientists based on the Canary Islands were predicting a huge landslide, which would send a tsunami over one hundred feet high racing across the Atlantic. Apparently, the land had become seriously unstable and underwater volcanic activity in the area was growing. The earthquake in Nepal had killed over ten thousand with another one predicted for the area and that had just been the beginning of what appeared to be a chain reaction across multiple fault lines across the world.
Things were bad.
Very bad.
As Marcus entered his father's apartment, he found him conversing with Ian Macpherson, an Ian who was dressed in full Centuri armour of black leather. His torso was covered in a vest of a light-weight Kevlar material. Must be something new the techies who worked deep in the underground research labs had dreamed up.
"We checked the live feed security cameras covering the entrances and exits and they're compromised, too," Ian was saying, his Scottish accent no more than a deep growl of disgust. "The technical team are trying to find the source of the signal that's piggybacked on our wireless loop. No joy yet. Although they're scratching their heads at the data they're receiving. It doesn't make sense."
Duncan looked up, his eyes met his son's. And Marcus read the deep frustration, the worry in his father's eyes.
He knew how he felt.
"What did they find?" Marcus asked Ian.
Ian frowned as he shook his head.
"The signal is electronic and it appears to come from outer space."
At his father's raised brows of disbelief, Marcus nodded in agreement.
"I know. Fucking E.T. What next?"
"Johan's always been good with puzzles," said Duncan, referring to a vampyre geek and technical expert who lived in his own little world in the basement with his team.
"Aye. He's right on it," agreed Ian. "I don't think I've ever seen him so happy. He suspects it’s a stealth satellite that's bouncing the signal. Probably Russian or Chinese."
A theory that sounded a hell of a lot more plausible to Marcus than E.T.
On the wall a vast flat-screen, the sound turned low, was showing a twenty-four-news channel with a constant supply of breaking bad news. The Ebola flu epidemic was gathering pace. The United Kingdom was quarantined. Younger members of the British Royal Family had been evacuated to the Scottish Highlands. The Queen was refusing to leave London. In Rome the Pope was leading tens of thousands in prayer at the Vatican. For once the Middle East had something more important to worry about than ethnic cleansing.
Marcus turned his back on events, over which he had no control. He folded himself into a fat chair in front of his father's desk. "Techies are born, not made," he said.
His father, face hard, jaw tense, got straight to the point.
"We need to make a plan to secure our family's future," Duncan said, blue eyes serious and focused. "What do you think of Scotland?"
"It's cold and it's very far away."
His father's mouth twitched at the droll response. "It's also magical. A centre of supernatural reoccurrence, a seat of ancient power."
All of that, Marcus knew, was nothing less than the truth.
"How do you plan to get there?" he asked his father. "The airspace is closed."
"There are ways," Duncan said in a cryptic tone. It bugged Marcus that his sire was unwilling to discuss certain things, even with him. He must have seen something in his face because now his father sighed and nodded. "The ancient stone circles are notoriously unstable to use as Entrées to travel within this world. We will need Ezekiel's help to manage the transition of our business and our research teams and equipment. We begin tonight. Constantine is implementing the first stage of a disaster recovery plan for all vampyre Precedential Elders, Princes and key people. Should the worst occur, the sites of the emergency hemoglobin banks will be revealed and opened. We must be prepared."
"And so you're saying we'll use magic to travel to Scotland?"
His father nodded. "Indeed."
Marcus felt a tickle of... unease, at the b
ack of his neck and knew he was being kept in the dark. Not being lied to exactly. His father wouldn't do that, but he was an expert in evasion.
He tried another tack. "Using magic is a bit of a turnaround for you, isn't it?"
Duncan flicked him a look. "I cannot say that I personally have ever been against the practice, as long as it used purely for good rather than evil."
Now that was news.
Since when?
But the expression on his father's face told him that was all he was going to get from him tonight. That didn't mean the conversation was over. Anything but.
"What news of a vaccine?" Marcus asked now.
Duncan shook his head, his eyes tight.
"Nothing yet. The disease continues to evolve incredibly fast. We can't get ahead of it. Bear in mind a virus needs hosts to survive. Not everyone will die." His eyes flicked over Marcus's shoulder to the flat screen on the wall. "Italy, Spain, Portugal, Germany and France are burning the dead in an attempt to stop the spread. The United Kingdom has closed its ports. Soccer games and large gatherings have been banned. The Scottish government is implementing the same policy and the health service is on high alert. We can only pray it will be enough." His eyes returned to his son's. "James and Charlotte arrived this evening and are settling into their apartment in the floor below. I feel better having all my chicks in the same henhouse."
"Except for Adam."
"Adam is safe in Scotland and about to take his mate. Soon, we will all be together."
"Why the big rush to leave New York?"
Duncan's eyes turned bleak.
"Constantine has contacts in the scientific community and a tsunami red alert has been released. If the worst happens in the Canary Islands, there won't be a New York. Already there are plans to begin early stage evacuation of the city tonight. The President wants to be seen to be safe rather than sorry in order to keep the populace calm. The American army has been quietly repatriated from the Middle East and Europe as soon as the Ebola outbreak became airborne in Africa. The national guard is being mobilized with the police to deal with looting."
"It will be impossible to evacuate everyone from the city," said Marcus.
"Indeed. Some theorists suggest it might take a month or more."
"But what if the infected are moved, too? Surely the displacement of that amount of people would just spread the virus faster?"
"I didn't say the plan was a wise one, Marcus."
"Better than doing nothing?"
"That is what the authorities believe."
"Christ, it's a fucking mess."
***
Meanwhile, in Daniel's bedroom, Gia was busy making her own plan and acting on it.
Her vampyre was riding her hard.
How dare they dictate to her?
She'd packed a suit carrier with a black dress so slinky it might stop traffic. She tossed black suede pumps into her backpack. Then she changed her top, slipped into a flesh colored strapless bra that did the lift and separate thing, tugged on a black roll neck sweater, pulled on her grey hoodie and thrust her bare feet into her old running shoes. Taking out her cell, she rummaged around her bag to find Jerry's card and quickly keyed-in the number. He answered right away.
"Hi, Jerry," she said in a low voice. "Any chance of a ride to work tonight?"
His gravelly voice rumbled in her ear. "No probs, babe. Be there asap."
After two years of working for Gillespie, Pattullo and Hindmarch, Gia knew her way around the building. Opening the door into the hallway, she listened to the sound of muted voices coming from the sitting room.
It seemed the vampyres were still flapping their gums.
Good.
The thought only entered her head to glide down the corridor to the maintenance entrance, when she found herself floating about half an inch above the floor.
Hot damn.
Excitement skittered through her system and she damped it down fast.
The last thing she needed was Daniel picking up her thoughts and how thrilled she was. She knew the exit code and pressed it into the electronic keypad with fast fingers. As she opened the door half an inch, a sixth sense told her that there was a presence at the top of the stairway. She held her breath and waited. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a large man clad in black leather at the top of the stairs. He reminded her of a special operations soldier. She knew he was a vampyre by the way he moved, smooth as silk as he stopped, cocked his head and listened. For a heartrending moment, she thought he'd heard her, but then he took a running leap off the roof.
Whoa.
It appeared vampyres could leap tall buildings.
A little voice asked her what the hell she thought she was doing to go up against and disobey such powerful creatures?
She ignored the voice and didn't hesitate as she slid out and closed the door very carefully behind her. Avoiding the elevator due to the CCTV installed, she knew there were no cameras inside the service stairwell.
But there was CCTV at all exits.
She raced down the stairs.
Her heart might be in her mouth but her feet flew as they skimmed the steps. She pulled up her hoodie, kept her head down on arrival at the service entrance. There was Jerry's taxi idling at the curb. Fast as a snake, she slid through the side gate. And was in the back of the taxi in seconds.
"Jesus is looking forward to listening to you tonight," said Jerry, his smile splitting his dark face.
Relaxing back against the seat, Gia beamed right back.
"I'm looking forward to it myself."
And she was also looking forward to seeing one Enricho Donatti.
The claws of one hand released and contracted.
Her smile didn't reach her eyes.
Boy, was he in for a surprise tonight.
Gia didn't see Jerry's eyes narrow with concern in the rear view mirror as the taxi moved down the road.
***
"You realize he may have gathered many to his cause? Maybe even the Higher Elves who frequently bemoan what man has done to the Earth. Soul-eaters. The Reapers..." Ezekiel shifted in his chair making his leathers creak as his eyes lifted to meet Duncan's. "You do realize we cannot stop it?"
Duncan nodded, felt the weight of the heavy crystal glass in his hand, took a sip of a twenty-five year malt whisky.
God knew, he needed it.
He let the water of life, uisge beatha, burn his throat and warm his belly before he responded.
"Not yet. No."
"The end of days approaches."
Duncan nodded in agreement. "Nothing we can do about it."
"No. But perhaps we have time to plan. To make ready."
"And yet your power only grows?" Duncan mentioned the one thing that continued to niggle him, his voice deep and filled with ill will.
No matter how hard he tried, in his heart he didn't trust the witch.
Ezekiel met his eye.
"It does," he paused. Then shook his head. "I am not the only witch and vampyre in this world. All who believe in the power of magic are reporting an increase in their ability."
"Are they aware of the portals?"
"No. But some... have felt the presence of a great power, a sly power. It attempts to seduce. It whispers to them in the darkness. It sings a song to the weak, the vulnerable, the disenfranchised."
Daniel was receiving the message loud and clear.
"Do they have a leader?"
Ezekiel inhaled deeply before he exhaled.
"You remember Ator?"
Duncan frowned, remembering a young vampyre from the past.
"A quiet boy. Shy."
"Quite. For many years he has been holed up in a monastery in Tibet, out of the reach of The Order. He now has an army."
Duncan went still, placed his glass on the side table and leaned forward.
"He has built a witch army?"
"Indeed. Right under my nose."
"How many?"
"Five thousand."
&nbs
p; Duncan rose, stalked to the balcony and back. "How is this possible?"
Ezekiel stared into his own whisky glass, took a sip.
"Divide and rule."
"You've lost me."
"The Order have grown powerful while the council ignored their practice of the old religion. A religion that embraces torture in an attempt to destroy magic, even white magic. Practitioners of the craft went underground. Ator's parents entered Dyunik monastery, when he was a child and they never returned. He now seeks retribution. And it looks as if he may get it."
Dismay entered Duncan's heart.
It was true the council had taken their eye off the ball when it came to The Order.
He'd felt it himself.
"Vampyres," drawled Ezekiel, "for too long you and the council have focused on humans. Not once have you kept your eye on magic. Except, of course, on me. And the reason for that is because you believe the rantings of a vengeful man who holds a grudge. A blood grudge."
Ezekiel was referring to Samuel.
Duncan took a breath.
"Lord Hindmarch has every reason to hold a grudge."
"I agree. However, I say again the Legion did not kill his wife and child. What have the vampyre council done about his... issues?"
"Nothing."
"So here we have the truth of it. Where do you think doing nothing might leave a man like Samuel?"
Duncan didn't like where this was going. "He might look for ways to avenge the death of his wife, his stillborn daughter."
"Indeed. Why don't you find out who, or what, he's bargained with?"
No response.
Ezekiel merely nodded once before he continued, "Tell me, prince. Does Samuel look like a man at peace with the choices he has made in his life?"
The answer to that question was no, and Duncan knew it.
Now he wondered why he hadn't seen the psychological deterioration in his friend before now?
Duncan couldn't quite believe he was having this conversation with a person who was still regarded by many as a sworn enemy of the vampyre state.
"You are telling me that one of my closest and dearest friends has committed treason, betrayed us?"
The Vampyre Legal Chronicles - Daniel: Book: 3 Page 11