Lucien frowned. “The town was wiped out?”
Natalie shook her head, frowning. “No, that’s the problem. There was an attempt at coal mining in the mountains, but after constant cave-ins and loss of life, that was abandoned. There was also a tourism element, with the Grand Trail Junction, but this is more than just a bunch of tourists getting lost or falling into abandoned mine shafts. There was a high transient rate, I just can’t figure out why.”
Lucien peered at the map. “If it’s such an inhospitable area, I can’t see why people would flock there...” He leaned closer, as did Natalie, and her perfume tugged at him, distracted him. As she leaned forward her shirt gaped a little bit and he caught a glimpse of white lace.
“Here,” she said, pointing to a spot on the map. He tried to shift his focus to her gloved finger. Visions of her hands on his body, without gloves, and what they could do to him, had his body tightening—Wait.
“What?” He shook his head then leaned closer to the map. Concentrate. Vivianne’s life was at stake, for crying out loud. His brow drew tighter. His sister was dying and he was behaving like a hormone-driven teenager. Sheesh. He peered at the map. All he could see was terrain. “There’s nothing except forest and hills.”
“Exactly.” She strode back to the computer and tapped in some commands. “We have a bank of satellite imagery through the ages, some are just general, some are for sites of cultural significance, like potential Roman cities...”
“And you have the Aerion Mountains? What’s so culturally significant about that area? Apart from the mystical ‘lost souls’ perspective?” Notorious, maybe. Culturally significant, not so much.
“Nothing, really, but it’s dense forest. They used to monitor the area for bushfires back then. Here.” She leaned to the side so that he could peer over her shoulder. So he did. And, yes, he was a juvenile for doing it, but it gave him a fantastic view down her shirt. So he looked.
Desire unfurled inside him and he breathed in her fragrance. He shook his head slightly. No, he didn’t want it to fog his brain. He forced himself to concentrate on the screen she indicated.
“There doesn’t seem to be much...” she murmured as she scrolled through the images.
Something caught his eye and he placed his hand on her shoulder. “Wait, go back.”
She flicked back an image and then another at his nod. “There. Can you zoom into that?”
She nodded. “A little.” She started to tighten the focus. The image started to pixelate.
“Wait. There, on top of that peak.”
They both leaned forward, squinting at the blurry image. “Is that—?” Natalie blinked, then squinted again. “Is that—?”
“Solar panels.” Lucien frowned, scanning the rest of the image. The top of the peak had been cleared of trees and the dark frames of the panels blended into the craggy bluffs. It was the highest peak in the range, and the panels were only visible from an aerial view.
“What is this place?”
She checked the map. “That is Mount Solitude. The highest peak in the Aerion Mountain range and one of the most rugged.”
Natalie toggled the screen and opened up another database. She entered coordinates, then sat back in frustration when the search results yielded nothing.
“There are no wires, no services to this area,” she said. “No amenities.”
“Off-grid and completely self-sufficient.” Lucien sighed. “There are some compounds like this in the deserts, where breeds go underground.”
“You think there was a compound there?”
“It makes sense. It’s remote. Whoever was there would be able to live in relative peace.”
“But there is no record of any breed established in this area,” she pointed out after doing a search in the RTDB—Reform Territory Database. The database, used by all breeds and authorities, was kept current and had been established so that those wanting to pass through certain areas could gain permission to transit—to avoid claims of trespass and resulting punishment. No breed was listed as owning the territory, or being in charge of the main town, Devil’s Leap. It was a rare human stronghold. “No breeds. Ever.” Her mouth pursed in frustration. “Not even a transitional. Darn. I thought for a moment...” she sighed.
A cleared area on one of the plateaus of the bluff caught Lucien’s eye and his blood chilled. “Can you pan down to that?”
Natalie did as instructed and it took him a moment to process what he saw.
Natalie gasped. “Good grief. That’s a crop,” she said in disbelief. “But—there’s no history of cultivation in this area. This isn’t supposed to exist.”
Lucien’s lips tightened. “Verbena.” He could easily recognize the toxic herb. All vampires were trained to identify all of its variations. Their lives depended on it.
“And wolfsbane,” she said, indicating a separate area to the right. She turned her head to look at him just as he twisted his head to face her. They were so close he could feel her breath on him, dancing along his skin.
“When was this taken? Is it still there?” His voice came out a little rough.
It took Natalie a moment to turn back to the computer. She pulled up the latest collection of forestry satellite imagery. The peak looked to have been overrun with trees and shrubs, the forest reclaiming both the top of the peak and the plateaus.
“Those original images were taken before The Troubles. Whatever was there looks long gone,” Natalie said.
“But, at one time, there was something there that was off-grid, off the record and with the supplies to kill vampires and werewolves.”
“With a high transient-population mortality rate,” she said quietly.
Lucien frowned. “What are we talking about here? What does this mean? That a potentially large number of vampires and werewolves traveling through the area were killed?”
Natalie shrugged. “Possibly. I can only assume that if some of the breeds died, more would come looking for answers, then more would die, more questions raised, and so on.”
“But...you’re talking about the systematic murder of hundreds of shadow breeds,” Lucien said, shaking his head. “How could that go unnoticed and unreported?”
“Well, it’s just a theory, for starters. We don’t have any proof that’s what happened,” Natalie said, and her teeth worried her lip.
Lucien’s gaze was drawn to her mouth, to that full bottom lip, and memories of that kiss once again flashed through his mind. He was a vampire, for Pete’s sake. An immortal. So why, after hundreds of years of finding intimacy and release in any number of willing women, did that one kiss with Natalie plague him? Tempt him? Fascinate him?
“This may have nothing to do with your search for your sister’s cure,” Natalie pointed out, turning to him. Her gaze dropped to his mouth and he saw in her eyes the instant when she stopped focusing on the forest mystery and started focusing on him.
“It’s better than nothing,” he murmured, dipping his head. Her scent, her warmth—everything about her consumed his attention. His heart thudded in his chest and arousal flared. He was beginning to accept that was a natural state when he was around Natalie.
“It could be a...a wild-goose chase,” Natalie said, her voice low and husky with a trace of uncertainty. And then she lifted her head up toward his. Her lips were so close, he could feel her breath whisper across his mouth.
Lucien smiled, his stare shifting between her beautiful hazel-gray eyes and that full bottom lip. “You should know by now, Natalie,” he whispered, “I do love a good chase.” He lowered his lips to hers.
Chapter 6
Natalie’s breath hitched as she felt the pressure of his mouth against hers. Heat, intense and perfect, flashed through her as he kissed her slowly, as though giving her time to back away.
She should. She sho
uld run, frankly.
He was being so gentle—not tentative, though. There was confidence, there was tenderness, but there was no shyness. It was as though he was giving her time to adjust, to decide. No force, just seduction.
She reached for him, her gloved hand sliding through his jet-black hair, and it was as though she’d given him some form of permission. His hand rose to cup her face, his thumb pressing gently on her jaw, and she opened her mouth to him.
His tongue slid in to rub against hers and she sighed, instinctively licking him back. Her breasts swelled and heat curled between her legs. His arm slid around her waist, pulling her closer to him, and she slid off the chair and into his arms. He dragged her up against him, and she shuddered in his arms—her nipples tightening into firm peaks as he shifted, turning slightly to brace her against the table behind them.
She heard the rustle of paper as Lucien swept the map off the table, and her breath hitched as the muscles in his arms tightened. He lifted her effortlessly up onto the furniture. She sighed as she trailed her hands across his shoulders. He was so tall, so lean, with an innate strength that should have frightened her but instead had her panting as he leaned forward to kiss her again. He angled his head, deepening their kiss, and she moaned when his hands found her breasts, cupping them through the cotton fabric of her shirt. Her breasts swelled even further at the attention and the heat dampened between her thighs. He sighed as he fitted his groin to hers. She clutched at his collar, sliding her hands down to undo his buttons. Her pulse thudded in her ears.
Her gloves worked against her and he growled softly in frustration before lifting his head.
His pale blue eyes on hers, he took hold of one of her hands and lifted it to his lips. His teeth lengthened, his eyes heating with desire as he gently bit on the leather and drew it off her finger, just a little. He repeated the process on all her glove-tipped fingers, the move so damn seductive she would have melted on the table, if she could have.
He bit down on the leather and drew it completely off her hand. “I want to feel your skin on mine,” he whispered before placing her now bare hand on his chest. She could feel the delineation of his pectoral muscle beneath her touch, and she luxuriated in the smooth glide of her hand across his shirt until she could fidget with that annoying little button. He tugged off her other glove, tossing it aside, then leaned forward, scooping her butt and pulling her even closer.
She tugged at another button and he dipped his head to kiss her thoroughly, languidly. Her heart was hammering in her chest now, and when she parted his shirt enough to slide her hands inside, just a little, she discovered Lucien’s heart was also pounding. She smiled in satisfaction, heat spreading with the knowledge she had the same effect on him.
She heard a harsh thud and Lucien’s head bumped into hers before he reared back, growling. He whirled around, and cool air twisted between them, bringing with it some rationality, some awareness. Natalie’s cheeks bloomed with mortification at reality’s intrusion. God, not again.
Lucien had managed to get past her defenses. Again.
* * *
A leather-bound book lay at his feet, and Lucien rubbed the back of his head, frowning as he glanced around the library that appeared empty save for him and the stunningly beautiful, smoking-hot woman he’d just been kissing. He glared at the empty aisles, listening intently, his senses on high alert, tension gripping him with an uncomfortable tightness.
Again, he smelled that faint trace of pungent smoke. He stepped away from the table, noting when Natalie jumped down to the floor, her breathy little pants slowly coming under control, just like his.
He scooped the book up from the floor and turned to face her. “What the hell?”
She shrugged, but there was something in her eyes, as her glance shifted to just behind him, that had him whirling again. “Who’s there?”
“Nobody, Lucien. We’re the only ones here.”
Why the hell didn’t he believe her? He glanced over his shoulder at her. Maybe because she was having a hard time meeting his eyes. “Then why did this book hit me?” He tossed it casually to her and she caught it, then stared at it in horror before lifting her gaze.
“It looks like a journal.” She blanched, dropped the book and backed away. She shook her head as she focused on a spot to her right. “No,” she said, her expression agonized.
“Natalie?”
She continued to shake her head. “No, no, please. No.” She slid along the length of the table, closing her eyes and clapping her hands over her ears. “I’m not listening.”
Lucien frowned, concerned by her abrupt change in behavior. “Natalie, what’s wrong?”
“Nope. Not now.” She stalked toward the door of the library, muttering to herself, until she removed one hand long enough to shake a finger at a shelf. “And you’re a dick.”
She slammed out of the library, leaving Lucien to stare after her in stunned confusion.
What the hell just happened? His gaze drifted down to the journal on the floor. And where the hell had that come from? It was as though the damn thing had just materialized to hit him on the back of the head. He glanced warily around the library. It was full of books and all of them were beginning to look like weapons. He picked up the journal and then scooped up Natalie’s gloves and went in search of her.
He didn’t understand what had happened. One minute they were kissing and the next...? She was running away from a book? He couldn’t ignore the agonized expression on her face. He was beginning to suspect there was way more to Natalie than just an unnatural ability to dodge death.
What was she hiding?
* * *
Natalie hugged herself as she leaned against the atrium wall and glanced up at the night sky. Stars. Just count the stars. She began to silently count the twinkling beacons of light, until gradually her racing heart slowed to a more regular rate.
“I’m sorry,” Rupert said quietly as he materialized by her side. “I was trying to help.”
She looked down at the toes of her sneakers. “Do you mean the journal or...?” Or did he mean using a book as a cold water substitute to separate the horny folk? She couldn’t quite formulate the words; she was so mortified.
“Both.”
“Oh.” Okay, that just pushed her embarrassment to a whole new level.
“He’s more than just a friend, isn’t he?”
“No,” she denied instantly then frowned. Was he? How could he be? No, he wasn’t a friend. A friend didn’t abandon you in your hour of need. A friend looked out for you, had your back, and would...come find you.
But he did find you, a small voice whispered.
Shut up. Forty years later was forty years too late. He wasn’t there when she’d really needed him. Because of that, her mom and dad were murdered. She was murdered.
“Well, you’ve never kissed me like that, and we’re friends,” Rupert pointed out mildly.
“He’s not my friend.” She didn’t know what the hell he was, just that he wasn’t that.
“No, I can certainly see he’s something more.”
She shook her head. No. She wouldn’t allow that to happen. “He’s a vampire. You know how I feel about vampires. And he’s threatened to kill my friends here, my students, if I don’t help him.”
“Oh, I think you’re both really enjoying your unique brand of help.”
She frowned, ready to argue the point, but Rupert’s arched eyebrow stopped her. Damn it, he was right. If she was being honest, she’d thoroughly enjoyed her time in Lucien’s arms. What the hell was she doing, kissing Lucien Marchetta? Especially after everything he’d done to her?
“What was I thinking?” she sighed roughly, shaking her head.
Rupert pulled his pipe out of his pocket and lit it, puffing a couple of times, drawing on the tobacco. He finally met he
r gaze. “Then you have to do this,” he told her quietly. “Just—be careful. Don’t trust him. Don’t trust anyone.”
She nodded. “I won’t.”
The door to the library opened and Lucien made his way toward her, carrying that damned tatted book with him.
“Are you—are you okay?” he asked her. His expression showed concern, bafflement, and a keen wariness he had every right to feel. She’d just behaved like an idiot with him. A dark shadow moved behind him, and Natalie steeled herself once more. A woman, wearing green cargo pants, a shirt whose color she couldn’t identify—somewhere between baby-poo brown and gastro-vomit green—and a badge on her breast stepped toward her, her expression angry.
“What is he doing with my journal?” she snapped, staring directly at Natalie.
“I’m fine,” Natalie said in answer to Lucien. She eyed the woman. A law enforcer of some kind. But the uniform? That was old. Pre-Troubles, pre-Reform. She’d been viciously murdered. Natalie wanted to avert her eyes, but held firm. She wanted to apologize to her. When she’d first seen the woman, back in the library, she’d been shocked, and had reacted instinctively by trying to shut the ghost out.
The woman bore a neck wound, gaping and torn. Blood stained her shirt, her badge, and still glistened in the moonlight. Which meant her killer hadn’t been brought to justice.
“Then do you mind telling me what the hell is going on?”
“I don’t like him touching my journal,” the woman said, stomping over to stand beside Lucien. “Take it off him. Now.”
Natalie shrugged at Lucien. “Nothing’s going on.”
The look he shot her told her he wasn’t buying it.
Rupert stepped toward the woman, a sympathetic smile on his face. “Hi. I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Rupert.”
The injured woman looked at him briefly, curiosity flaring in her eyes before she frowned and turned back to Lucien.
“He’s a damn vamp. I don’t want him touching my stuff,” the woman snapped again, glaring at Natalie.
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