“He was masking,” Elizabeth said. “Incognito.”
“Then how come the boy and his father can see him?”
“He let them.”
“Why?” István asked.
It was a good question, and one she probably knew the answer to. He meant the hunters to witness this, a perfect contrast to the carnage in the Gypsy camp committed by his enemies. Perhaps he really had come to check on the village’s recovery, to speak to a couple of special friends while he was in the area, but certainly he would use the “fringe benefits,” as he always did.
“The boy loves him,” Mihaela said slowly. “They both do. It’s not just gratitude, is it?”
Oddly enough, she seemed to be asking Elizabeth. Elizabeth cleared her throat. “No,” she said. “Not just gratitude.”
Mihaela turned to face her. “How do you do it?” she said. “How do you keep your head straight while he turns from the death monster of the camp to this?”
Elizabeth closed her eyes. “He isn’t a death monster. He’d never do what Luk and Dante did. Although he could, if he felt it was right. His morality isn’t ours, but it is there, and he isn’t evil.”
When the bombardment of angry protest didn’t hit her, she opened her eyes again. Saloman, having said good-bye to the father and son, was now the center of the little group outside the mosque, like a prince gracious enough to greet his overfamiliar subjects. The hunters were gazing at the scene as if they couldn’t look away.
Elizabeth said, “It’s not the only time he’s done this. Didn’t you hear about Peru?”
They looked at her. István frowned. “The Peruvian earthquake last week? It was a big one, far bigger than this.”
“But nobody died. Admittedly the population of the region wasn’t huge either, but he got them to safety too.”
“Did he tell you that?” Konrad asked cynically.
“No. There’s video footage. It’s probably on YouTube by now. I’ll show you when we go back. But—”
“How?” István interrupted. “How can he do that? How can he possibly know what seismographers can’t even predict?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” Elizabeth admitted. “I haven’t had the chance to talk to him about it. Everything’s been about Luk and Dante. But he said to me once that his people, the Ancients, had ‘an affinity with the earth.’ I think he can feel the tension, knows when and where the crust will crack.”
“Shit, Elizabeth,” Mihaela said.
“Eat your ice cream,” Elizabeth advised, becoming aware for the first time that her own was melting and trickling down her fingers. It felt surreal, dementedly eating ice cream in the dark, in total silence, while the villagers feted the vampire. When they finished their ices, they moved over to the tap outside the mosque, placed conveniently so that worshipers could wash their feet before entering, and rinsed the stickiness from their fingers.
Saloman used their movement to expedite his departure, first introducing them by name to the villagers, who all greeted them politely, and then waving good-bye. As they walked back toward the car, a woman in a dark pashmina ran after them and pressed some warm, paper-wrapped home baking into Elizabeth’s hands. Everyone waved at the tinted windows as they left the village. And when Saloman followed the homeward sign for Fethiye, no one protested.
Chapter Nine
“Where’s he going?” Mihaela asked. As they entered the villa, Saloman strolled away into the village without a word of explanation.
Loath as she was to spoil the somewhat stunned softening of the hunters toward Saloman, Elizabeth said, “I don’t know. And I don’t think you want to.”
Konrad swore, and Mihaela groaned, smacking her head back against the door. “We can’t just sit here and let him feed on these people!”
It wasn’t even worth pointing out that they couldn’t stop him. Elizabeth took the door from her friend’s white-knuckled grip and closed it firmly. “He has to feed or he dies. He won’t kill anyone. He won’t even hurt anyone. They won’t know it’s happened.”
Mihaela glanced at her. “Is that how you live with it, Elizabeth?” Oddly, it wasn’t said with aggression, but with curiosity.
“It’s the truth. That’s why you’ve noticed vampire-related deaths so drastically reduced. Saloman has forbidden it, except in certain circumstances of defense or justice that admittedly might mean little to you or me. Vampires can feed perfectly adequately without killing or torturing.” She walked through the living room toward the kitchen. “Coffee?”
“Coffee.”
It had been a strange journey back. Saloman had driven far too fast, so that the hunters had held on to their seats. In fact, even Elizabeth, who was well aware of Saloman’s lightning reactions, had closed her eyes at several points. Passing police cars had remained curiously unaware of their reckless speed.
There hadn’t even been much conversation beyond the occasional expletive, apart from the time István, apparently unable to restrain himself any longer, had leaned forward to put his head between the two front seats and uttered, “Why? Why did you save these people?”
Saloman had appeared to consider. “Because I could.”
“That’s no answer.”
“Would you prefer ‘earthquakes interrupt my food supply’?”
“If it’s the truth,” István said.
Saloman smiled faintly. “You like black-and-white truths, don’t you?”
“Right now, I’d settle for any kind.”
Saloman pressed harder on the gas, whizzing past an oncoming, hooting lorry. “They have a right to live,” he said at last.
István sat back thoughtfully. An instant later, he was back. Elizabeth had rarely heard him so talkative. “How?” he asked.
“That too is difficult to explain to a human. Let’s just say I can hear the earth moving.” He flashed one raised eyebrow at Elizabeth, which she devoutly hoped István missed. And István sat back to think about that one too.
It was Konrad who, while the kettle boiled, lifted the lid on the laptop. “Show me,” he invited, and no one doubted what he meant.
The Peruvian footage of “Adam Simon” leading the exodus down the mountain was indeed on YouTube, along with the date it was taken. The hunters would know now for certain that Saloman could not have been responsible for awakening Luk. But no one spoke of it. It seemed a trivial matter beside the hugeness of the earthquake.
Elizabeth sat back and let them watch. She longed to discuss it with them, tell them everything, all the conflict and doubt, the new belief and hope that had come to her. And she yearned to be with Saloman himself, in his arms while they talked about the same thing, about the possibilities inherent in his amazing gift.
They watched it in silence, several times, on several different sites, including the BBC’s. Elizabeth fetched the coffee, and they watched it again.
“It changes a lot of things, doesn’t it?” she said.
“Oh, yes,” Mihaela agreed fervently. “I just can’t quite make out how. Or why. Or why he’s here, helping us, showing us. It’s not all to do with you, is it?”
“No,” Elizabeth replied, a little too ruefully. “He believes that humans and vampires can, and should, live together. For this to happen, humans must be aware of vampire existence and realize they’re no threat. A tall order, particularly given the current circumstances. As a first step, he wants you, who know about vampires already, to understand the good he can do for the whole world.”
“It would be incredible,” István burst out. “Predicting earthquakes, tsunamis, volcano eruptions . . . Christ, he can probably do hurricanes and tornadoes better than the meteorological experts.”
“I don’t know,” Elizabeth said cautiously, “but I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Can other vampires do this stuff too?” Mihaela asked eagerly.
“Whoa.” Konrad sprang to his feet. “Slow down, here. Don’t get so carried away. So we’ve seen a demonstration of a very useful gift—if it can be scie
ntifically proven. But you’re forgetting one vital factor.” He glared around at them all, ending with Elizabeth. “We can’t trust him,” he said deliberately. “He’s a vampire.”
It was a killer blow. Elizabeth watched their hopes deflate like beach balls. “I trust him,” she said boldly.
Mihaela’s lips twisted. “No, you don’t,” she said, and Elizabeth stared at her, stricken.
“The other thing you seem to forget in this cozy scenario of togetherness that Elizabeth is relating—who manages this coexistence?” Konrad sat down again, sure now of their attention. “Who rules?” he asked, spreading his hands. “Saloman, of course. Which, if you recall, is what he aimed at from the moment Elizabeth awakened him. He’s had his revenge, he’s had his fun, and he’s building power like there’s no tomorrow. At this rate, you guys are next in his sights. But I for one am not falling for it.”
Elizabeth, leaving them to their arguments and discussion, climbed the stairs to bed. Weariness seemed to have caught up with her, for her bedroom seemed a long way up. With a sense of relief, she pushed open the door and switched on the light.
Saloman sat on her bed, reading. He could, apparently, read in the dark. His black hair fell loose around his shoulders; his long legs stretched out on the bed, elegantly crossed at the ankles. He looked casual and comfortable and sexy as sin.
He glanced up at her and smiled, and butterflies swooped in her stomach. Carefully, she closed the door and stood leaning back against it while her heart drummed like a rabbit’s.
“I see my ‘locks’ weren’t that good after all,” she managed.
“They’re fine, but you left me with the key.”
“Because the spell was yours in the first place?”
“Something like that.”
“I told them about Peru,” she blurted. “I meant to tell you, talk to you first. . . . I was on my way to Peru to find you when Mihaela called about Luk. I nearly didn’t come.” With an effort, she forced herself to stop talking, because Saloman, tossing the book to one side, rose from the bed and walked purposefully toward her.
“You’re agitated,” he said, halting in front of her. Reaching up, he smoothed a lock of hair from her cheek, and her breath caught. “Don’t be. Come.”
He didn’t take her in his arms, just led her by the hand in a familiar gesture that was both courtly and, because of its association for her, incredibly arousing. He held her gaze while they walked toward the bed. But she was being distracted again by her body’s responses to his nearness.
“I had so many things to say to you,” she got out. “Things I was desperate to say, because what you did in Peru was so wonderful, and I didn’t understand before what—”
“Sh-sh.” His hand slipped upward to her shoulder, turning her to face him. Amber flames seemed to leap in his dark, opaque eyes and then vanish, and she knew that this time there would be no interruption. This time he would make love to her. Her insides melted; her nipples, as if trying to reach out to him, began to ache.
“It’s not so wonderful,” he said. “I was in Mexico with Travis when I sensed the quake building. It was an easy thing to do; it barely even put me out.”
“But you can do it, and you did do it.”
Both hands lay heavy on her shoulders now. A faint, almost rueful smile played on his lips. “I wanted to please you.”
She felt her lips part in surprise. “Me? Is that why you did it?”
“No.” He shrugged. “Partly, yes. I did it because I could, but in doing it, I imagined your pleasure.” His fingers stretched out, caressing her chin. “I imagine your pleasure a lot when we’re apart.”
She flushed hotter under his obvious double meaning. “Not when we’re together?” she managed.
“Reality beats imagination,” he murmured, bending his head and causing the butterflies in her stomach to take flight. “At least with you.”
His lips were cool on hers, and yet at their first touch she seemed to combust. Desire surged through her, hurling her body against his as her mouth opened, gasping, to receive his kiss and to give her own. Reaching up, she tangled her hands in his hair, trying to draw him closer as the feel, the taste of Saloman consumed her. His powerful arms closed around her, holding her head steady in one palm as he devoured her mouth. She writhed against his body, irritated by the clothing that prevented her from getting any closer, yet loving the hardness, the contours of the steely bulge that pressed into her abdomen.
You are weary, he said inside her head. We can do this tomorrow.
Tomorrow, oh, yes. Tomorrow as well . . .
His lips stretched, smiling on hers as he broke the kiss. “You need to sleep.”
“I need you,” she whispered, and, reaching up, she took back his mouth. Eyes closed, she seduced it with her own while her hands swept over the hard muscle of his shoulders and arms. She found a way between their almost-fused bodies and began to undo the buttons of his shirt.
He didn’t push her onto the bed. He lifted her in his arms and laid her there, finishing her job on his shirt by shrugging it off so that she could run her hands over his smooth, powerful chest. And then he undressed her with slow care, caressing and kissing each area of skin as he uncovered it. When he came to her breasts, stroking one tight, aching nipple into a peak between his fingers while he kissed and teased all around the other, she arched up into him, pleading, almost demanding his presence inside her.
He gave her his hand, sliding it between her thighs. His eyes above her face darkened impossibly as he felt how wet she was for him. “I want to kiss you there,” he whispered. “And yet I need to see your face as you come.”
She swallowed. “Don’t we have time for both?”
He smiled, moving his fingers among her folds until he found the swollen bud of her pleasure. Her mouth opened in silent bliss and he covered it with his, slipping one finger inside her, then two, while he slowly, tenderly caressed her toward the ultimate ecstasy. Unable to be still, she undulated, squirming on his hand as the waves gathered. Her delight was reflected in his open, blazing eyes, and in his mind, where he let her feel his joy in her pleasure. With his free hand he stroked her breast, cupping, kneading, and pinching until, with a growing, desperate cry of joy that she muffled in his mouth, she fell over the edge.
Somewhere, in the part of her brain that could still think, she had vaguely planned that as soon as she’d or-gasmed, she would roll him over, impale herself on him, and ride him triumphantly to his own climax. But somehow it didn’t work out quite like that.
Perhaps the orgasm was too long, too shattering, intensified as it was by the union of their minds, because before she could even move, he lay over her body, sliding inside her. But not for the quick, frantic fuck that would bring the fastest release. Instead, he moved slowly, almost soothingly, taking time and pleasure in every part of her as he rocked and coaxed her back to ecstasy. At the last moment, he completed her happiness with his own, collapsing on her in that rare, awesome loss of control that moved her so profoundly.
Damp with sweat, sated, exhausted, she turned with him as he eased his body off her, so that he remained inside her. She smiled sleepily into his shoulder, licking a bead of her own salty moisture from his pristine skin. She felt his lips in her hair and snuggled against him to savor the moment. She had no intention of sleeping just yet, but somehow it came to her, soothing, healing, and deep.
She woke to daylight, the brightness of the sun filtered by the room’s curtains. She knew he was there before she even opened her eyes and saw him at the window that looked over the village. Wearing nothing except his dark trousers, which he hadn’t troubled to fasten, he appeared to be observing through a small gap in the curtain.
“Saloman?” She sat up as reality in the shape of the current crisis broke into her happiness. “What’s going on?”
“A market has set up in the street. They’re using your gatepost to support an awning.”
Elizabeth closed her mouth. She narrowed
the question. “Where are the hunters?”
“Downstairs.” Saloman released the curtain and turned to face her. “Discussing me. And you. They’ve just decided not to wake you.”
“Why? Where are they going?” she demanded, electing to leave the discussion about the propriety of eavesdropping until later.
Saloman shrugged, walking toward her. “Nowhere yet. They’ve been debating the comparative merits of Istanbul and Budapest. And of just staying here for a few days to see what happens.”
She eyed him doubtfully. “Can you really hear all that?”
“If I stick my ear to the floor.”
Laughter caught her unaware, and the flickering smile of response in his eyes warmed her as he sat on the bed beside her.
“Are they . . . all right?” she asked with difficulty.
“They are excited, frightened, confused. But whatever you said to them last night has made an impression.”
“I think it was you who made the impression.” She hesitated, then added, “To some, whatever impression you make will never be enough. Mihaela’s family was killed in front of her by a vampire when she was a child. Konrad . . . Well, Konrad will always have difficulty accepting you.”
“Another excellent reason for killing him.”
She peered at him. “You are joking, aren’t you?”
He made a small sound that in a being that breathed would have been a sigh. “Not entirely. Are you hungry?”
She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Maybe,” she said, smiling into his eyes.
“Ah. That sort of hunger I can more easily assuage.” With the pressure of his body, he pushed her back into the pillows and tore the sheet from between them. He drew back, and, under his avid gaze, Elizabeth squirmed. Heat surged through her. On the verge of losing herself once more in sensuality, she realized with a hint of desperation that their time together would pass and she still would not have said what she needed to.
“I missed you,” she whispered, as the smile died on her lips.
“I know.” He laid his palm flat over her heart, and as if he acted as a conduit, she heard its rapid increase in beat. “I thought of you when the mountain shook. I wanted you in my arms to complete the experience.”
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