Hunting Karoly

by Marie Treanor

  I knew from the smell that it was much too late. I knew too that the smoke alarm was about to blare. If it hadn’t been placed dangerously high up above the drafty window, it would have gone off already.

  Seizing the burning onions off the gas, I reached for the stepstool and climbed up to grab the alarm off the wall. Then, holding it high into the draft and away from the smoke, I picked off its back and spanged out the battery, which flew out of my hand to land with a clunk in the frying pan.

  “Bugger!” I said with feeling, pausing to follow the battery with my eyes. That was when I saw him sitting on the worktop, one leg idly swinging under his kilt.

  In his hand he held the spatula with which he’d obviously been poking my burned onions, but his eyes were on my legs, slowly rising up over my hips and waist to my breast. Stunned as I was, I could still feel my body burning under his gaze as if he was touching me.

  When he finally came to my dropped jaw, he smiled and I remembered to shut my mouth with a snap. His eyes met mine.

  “Hello.”

  Still clutching the smoke alarm, I let my arms fall to my sides and almost overbalanced.

  He did the blur thing to drop the spatula and catch me, but since I didn’t actually fall, I was able to fend him off with both hands held out warningly in front of me.

  “How the hell did you get in here?” I demanded.

  “Come down and I’ll tell you,” he invited, holding up his arms.

  He was still beautiful with his deep-set, green, gleaming eyes and his fine, strong-boned face, his full, sensual lips that could kiss like…

  “Get away from me,” I said coldly.

  His hands fell back to his sides. A wary look came over his face, but he did step back and let me clamber down unmolested. As I turned to face him, I was shaking again, which I hoped he didn’t notice.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “I came to see you, of course.”

  “Why?”

  His eyebrow lifted. “I had this idea you might be pleased. Especially after our recent—talks.”

  I spun away from him and began to fish the smoke alarm battery out of the frying pan with the spatula. “I can’t imagine where you got such a profoundly stupid notion.”

  “From you, of course. We had fun together in Glasgow.”

  “No. You had fun.” I threw the battery and the spatula into the bin together. “And then you betrayed me.”

  He frowned. “I gave you the chance to be a hero to your friends. And you took it. Twice.”

  “You drank from me!”

  For the space of several heartbeats, neither of us moved or spoke. The only sound was my own quickened breathing. My shields were down, but I didn’t care. I wanted him to feel all my fury, all my hurt. The gold flecks in his eyes narrowed, almost vanished as his gaze moved around my face, searching for answers. A faint frown lingered on his brow.

  At last, his tempting lips parted. “So? You liked it.”

  A moment longer, I stared at him. Rage such as I’d never known flooded my being with heat, as if the blood in my veins boiled with fury, because he couldn’t see what he’d done, what it meant it me.

  And because he was right. That too.

  My voice tight and unsteady, I uttered, “Are you completely amoral?”

  “Of course I am. I’m a vampire.”

  Well, it was a stupid question, but that didn’t stop my fist clenching or my arm drawing back purposefully. I meant to hit him full in his handsome, impossible face. Then, just as I was about to let fly, I saw in his eyes that he would let me, as he had let me stab him, and abruptly the anger drained away. My fist unclenched and he smiled, understanding this if nothing else.

  He took a step nearer me. “Jenny…”

  The kitchen door burst open.

  “Jenny, where do you keep your glasses, because Ellie just broke one and… Hello!” It was Zack, bounding in to be brought up short by the splendid vision of Karoly. He grinned. “You’ve just got to be a relative of Jenny’s! Fresh doon from bonnie Scotland! Ock aye!”

  In spite of everything, I cringed, though it was automatic now and I had long ago learned to annoy him just as much by imitating him.

  “The noo,” I said dryly. “You forgot ‘the noo’. The glasses are in that cupboard under the window.”

  “Thanks. Zack Conway,” he added, sticking out his hand to the vampire. “And any relative of Jenny’s is welcome!” Which, considering it was my room and my kitchen was extremely generous of him.

  Then, to my horror, I realized that Karoly was going to take his hand. A strangled protest choked in my throat. Their hands clasped briefly.

  Zack said, “Cold night?” and, annoyingly, I wanted to laugh.

  It was hysteria, of course, and it wasn’t helped by the thought that it was not above the vampire to reply, “No, It’s just I’ve been dead for five hundred years.”

  As their hands parted again, I realized with fresh horror that Zack was waiting to learn my relative’s identity. And that Karoly’s mouth was opening to speak.

  “Oh shit,” I said before I could prevent it, and when they both glanced at me in surprise, I added hastily, “This is Charlie, my cousin. He doesn’t speak or hear. But he lip reads.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” said Zack, a little more clearly than necessary. “Staying for dinner, Charlie?”

  “No!” I said in horror as the vampire nodded.

  I glared at him and Zack laughed. “Never piss off a woman in the kitchen. Come on back and meet the others, get a glass of wine.”

  At this, I opened my mouth to forbid it absolutely. But before I could speak, a sudden heavy weight pressed on my foot and I looked down to see Karoly’s tatty trainer firmly standing on it. Before I could express my outrage or even push him off, it lifted again. I felt his hand on my shoulder, igniting the spark of awareness as his cool touch always did.

  The shock of it kept me quiet for long enough to see him do the same to Zack, then firmly push us both toward the door. When we looked back at him in surprise—open-mouthed in my case—he let me go to grab the frying pan, making stirring motions over my charred onions, now clustered unhappily around the empty space once occupied by the smoke alarm battery.

  “Burned them, Jen?” Zack grinned.

  “Caramelized,” I corrected with dignity. My mind was not on Zack or the onions. It was on Karoly, who undoubtedly meant us to leave the kitchen with the understanding that he would do the cooking.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said feebly. He met my eyes, smiling into them with devastating effect while he shook his head. I was flooded with the memory of sex with him on that balcony, the unique feel of his cold shaft pumping its extraordinary pleasures of fire and ice inside me. I wanted it again, very badly. It didn’t matter that he’d betrayed me, that he was, moreover, evil and undead. I wanted him now with a need so sharp my legs nearly buckled. Between them, I was soaked, hot and tingly, with an ache that spread like fire through my entire body.

  Something in his eyes changed. Something about the curve of his lips grew more sensual, more—hungry. I realized that he could feel my desire, that it was feeding his.

  Abruptly, I tugged my eyes free.

  “You can make spaghetti Bolognese?” I demanded, coughing to disguise the unsteadiness of my voice. For answer, he simply placed his hand in the small of my back and pushed.

  Zack laughed, grabbing my hand and leading me through the door. “Don’t turn down an offer like that,” he advised, grinning over my head at Karoly.

  I refused to look at him again, but as we walked out I let my hand remain in Zack’s, in the rather useless hope that it would annoy the vampire.

  Vaguely, I was aware of Zack’s questions about my “cousin”, but I answered them on autopilot with no clear recollection afterward of what I’d said. It was almost a relief to push open the door of my room. The place was still full of his presence despite the number of people now diluting it with their
noise and laughter. The wine had clearly been flowing.

  “How’s dinner, Jen?” Ellie asked. “Want a hand?”

  “She doesn’t need any more hands,” Zack answered for me. I was beginning to be irritated by that. “She’s brought her cousin down from the frozen north to do her dirty work and now she’s off the hook!”

  “Cousin, eh?” said Ellie, handing me a glass and splashing wine into it. “Male or female?”

  “Male,” said Zack. “And the most gorgeous of that gender you’re ever likely to see in a skirt. Or trousers, come to that. Makes me wish I were gay.”

  “Bring him on!” Ellie commanded with enthusiasm.

  “Also he’s mute,” Zack informed her, “so he’s unlikely to answer you back.”

  That was when the unlikely thought crossed my mind that Zack was trying to sic her on to my “cousin” out of jealousy, because he sensed something between us. Zack was an empath, after all. It was the jealousy that surprised me, so much so that a moment later, I was sure I’d imagined it.

  I sank on to the floor, my back against the bed, trying to pull my brain out of its debilitating numbness. Was he really going to walk in here, to a room full of trained psychics, any one of whom might possibly recognize him and all of whom knew precisely how to kill him? Did he plan to amuse himself by drinking from some or all of them? Killing them? Killing me?

  Of course, I should give him up to them, right now. I knew that. He was just too unpredictable, too dangerous.

  But I had chosen my path in Glasgow and I could not change it. Despite everything I held against him, there was something…

  And he had helped me immeasurably with the poltergeist.

  To my horror, the bedroom door was opening. I knew who it was before I saw him. And when I did see him…well, he was a gorgeous creature, Zack was right. Somehow too his outlandish costume didn’t make anyone laugh, just admire. He was a strong, handsome man in a kilt, the plaid pinned across his chest only emphasizing his magnificence. As for his face, he looked like a corrupt angel, a beautiful, sensual being…bearing a tray of hors d’oeuvres which he had, presumably, flung together from my haphazard food cupboard.

  After the initial stunned silence, he was welcomed with noisy enthusiasm. Smiling slightly, he moved forward, picking his way through those sprawling on the floor, to lay his tray down in the middle of them. I scanned their faces anxiously for signs of disquiet, of any kind of recognition, but all I saw was Ellie, leaning back to get a better view up his kilt as he bent down. Sniggering, Jess jerked her upright.

  A sharp bolt of jealousy hit me squarely in the chest. Ellie would take him. Ellie could take anyone away from me any day of the week and even though I refused to have him I couldn’t prevent the flood of misery at her getting him instead… Oh God, what was I thinking of? He was a vampire, whose prime interest was blood. He could kill Ellie!

  Karoly straightened, spreading his hands to indicate we should eat. Thank God he was sticking to my inspired lie and keeping his aristocratic Magyar mouth shut.

  “Join us for a bit,” Ellie invited, making space for him on the side away from Jess. No point in unnecessary competition. I had often arranged matters that way myself in pursuit of some unsatisfactory man.

  The vampire only smiled, shrugging, indicating he had to return to the kitchen. As he turned, his eyes met mine for one gleaming instant and I knew how amused he was at serving his elegantly presented food to a room full of young psychic operatives who had sworn to eliminate him and all his kind.

  Abruptly, I managed to force my inert body to move, staggering to my feet and realizing as I did so that I hadn’t actually breathed for some time. Muttering some incoherent explanation to my guests, I leapt after the vampire and hastily closed the door behind us. I had to warn him—and warn him off.

  I meant to confront him in the relative safety of the kitchen, from where tantalizing, herby smells already emanated, but he was waiting for me in the hall. Without a word, he reached for me, pulling me ’til my back was against the wall next to the door. Panicked, I tried to speak, tried to force myself to push him away, but he just took my face between his hands and bent his head, capturing my lips.

  I was lost. The vampire could still kiss and I was only human. My arms lifted of their own volition. My hands slid around his hard waist ’til they lay flat against his back. Then, as he deepened the kiss, ravishing my mouth with his tongue and teeth, my fingers clenched, grasping at his shirt for support.

  I had dreamed of this, secretly, most of my waking hours for more than a month. How could I not kiss him back, wind my tongue around his, draw his silken mouth deeper into mine?

  He tasted of sweet earth and subtle spice and something purely, powerfully Karoly. Something already familiar and yet thrillingly, wickedly new. It overwhelmed me, left me helpless in the grip of my own desires and his. His mouth turned mine over and over, plundered it ruthlessly. When he began to thrust rhythmically with his tongue in deliberate simulation of fucking, my knees buckled. Only his hands on my face and his body pinning me to the wall held me upright.

  I came up for air, gasping. I glimpsed his smile, those dangerous, sexy fangs and then he took my mouth back. It felt as if I’d come home. I welcomed his conquering, sensual lips, sank farther into the heat.

  I don’t know how long that kiss went on, long enough, certainly, for me to be crying out for his touch on other parts of my hot, trembling body. But he only held my face, kissing my mouth as if he’d never leave it and in the end it was my mews of frustrated desire that made him break off.

  His eyes had darkened to black and gold, almost opaque with his own need. For some reason, that gave me back some semblance of sense. And grief, because we were back where we’d started.

  “You have to stop kissing me,” I whispered in anguish.

  “But I love kissing you.”

  I pulled away from him, striding along the hall to the kitchen with his provocative voice following me like an accusation. “You are so passionate and you enjoy it so much.”

  “Shut up!” I hissed, though whether to prevent the others hearing him or just myself, I was far from sure. Slamming into the kitchen, I turned on him as soon as he closed the door behind us.

  “Look, you have to go! This entire building is stuffed with psychics, every one of whom is a threat to you! You’re lucky to have got this…”

  “No I’m not,” he interrupted, making me blink and lose my thread.

  “What?”

  “It’s not luck. None of these psychics threaten me. You are the only vampire hunter in the building. Don’t you think I would feel it?” I must have been staring at him with dumb incomprehension, because he stepped forward and, with one finger under my chin, pushed my lower jaw up ’til it connected with its partner. “It’s a rare gift,” he explained.

  I jerked away from him. “Why are you really here, Karoly? What is it you want? Why did you contact me, help me?”

  Desperate for distraction, I looked at what he’d put in a large pan on the stove. Delicious aromas wafted up into my nostrils, making my mouth water despite everything else going on.

  He said, “I came to see how you were, if those who made you unhappy were treating you better.”

  “You made me unhappy!” I burst out, twirling round from the pot to hit him in the chest with both fists. “You!”

  He took the opportunity to kiss me again, so thoroughly that I couldn’t help wishing the kitchen was big enough to hold a table we could have fallen on to. Especially when he folded me into his muscular arms and held me close against him. Through his kilt and my skirt, the hardness of his cock pressed into my abdomen, promising wicked delight and all the sensual pleasures I’d been craving for so long.

  Against my lips, he said, “You were unhappy—lost—before you met me. It was I who helped you find your way back.”

  At that I pushed him violently and he stepped away. “Oh yes? How exactly did you do that?”

  He smiled. “By lo
ving you.”

  Heat flooded me. Moisture soaked my knickers. Part of me gave up on the table fantasy and seriously considered the crumb strewn floor. Fighting it, I said, “Contrary to general masculine belief, sex is not the cure for all women’s ills.”

  “Love,” he corrected me and when I stared at him, he explained. “I said ‘loving you’, not ‘having sex with you’. Or ‘fucking you’, as you so bluntly call it.”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to remind him that he had used the word plenty himself at our last encounter, but since I really couldn’t afford to go there, I swallowed it back down.

  “And you do love me,” he added softly. “In your heart you do. You don’t want anyone else now, even that good-looking boy in there who’s so hot for you.”

  “That’s just sex,” I said tightly. “I’ll get over it. So will Zack.”

  “No you won’t.”

  Warily, I watched his hand come up again, but it only touched my hair, which was a little longer and less spiky now, running it between his slender fingers.

  “Give me one night,” he whispered.

  “What?” I had to stop saying that every time he surprised me. He surprised me lots, after all.

  “Give me a night to convince you.”

  “That I love you?” I yelled. “How conceited is that?”

  He smiled. His hand left my hair, reaching behind me to stir the stew. “To show you the fun we could have.”

  “If I leave my life behind and live with you in a dark cellar?” Secretly, you see, I had thought about it.

  He shook his head, still watching the stew. “No. If you share your life with me.”

  For some reason, my breath caught. Deliberately now, he lifted his eyes to mine. My voice shook. “How do you imagine I could do that?”

  “Just live your life as you want to. There are times when we will have to be apart and times when we can be together. It’s not so unusual. And I can even help you in your work, as I already have. I can get rid of the most troublesome vampires too.”