by Bonnie Vanak
A cool breeze whispered through the palm trees lining Miami’s Ocean Drive. South Beach in late October pulled crowds of people to outdoor cafés, cheerful bars and the warm sands.
Among them was the man who’d tried to kill her five days ago, Mara thought as she straddled a low wall dividing the sidewalk from the white sandy beach In her peach scoop-neck shirt and jeans, she looked like everyone else. Except she had an arsenal; two daggers sheathed at her ankles and a switchblade in her back pocket. The real weaponry was her demonic side.
Mara felt the darkness inside her growing stronger. She’d dropped out of school, quit her part-time job and gone on the hunt for the head of one Dennis Jones.
Catching the scent of venom, she turned. Cold joy filled her. Dennis Jones. The same black wool suit, white shirt and gray hair sticking up in little spikes. Her nails began to lengthen and Mara’s upper lip lifted as she felt her bottom teeth sharpen to tiny points. Jones ducked into a sidewalk café.
As she stood to follow, she felt a pair of hands curl around her shoulders, forcing her down. She was strong, but this person’s strength was astonishing. Mara twisted, struggling to free herself.
“Sit,” a deep velvet voice commanded.
Shock filled her. It was the same sensual voice she’d heard in her dream.
Mara sat.
“Stay.”
The husky timbre held a compelling note. Screw that. No one was telling her what to do again.
“If you tell me to roll over, buddy, I’ll bite.”
“My bite is much worse.”
She felt his warm hands start kneading her tensed shoulders. His touch chased away the dark light, forcing the demon back. Her heart began thumping a steady, reassuring beat instead of pounding like a jackhammer. More confusion filled her. What kind of magic was this?
The grip eased. She turned.
He was tall, leanly muscled and wore a blue and white striped shirt with navy pleated trousers. The crease of his pants fell elegantly to polished leather shoes. The stylish clothing contrasted to the inky black curls spilling down to his broad shoulders. But it was his face that stunned her. The full lips, hollowed cheeks and straight nose boasted an aristocratic heritage. Eyes the color of midnight pierced hers.
Confusion and arousal twined together like snakes. The same man from her dream! She yearned to touch him, run her hands over his skin, taste him. The hunger for revenge eased, replaced by stark sexual warmth.
Damnit, she didn’t want this. She shoved at his torso and met solid muscle. The man didn’t budge. Mara stared. The last time she’d tried that move, when Jones had pushed her into the furnace, she’d sent him flying across the room.
“What the hell are you?”
“A vampire.”
Mara glanced upward at the sun.
“I take pills to help me tolerate sunshine.”
“So you’re an addict.”
“An addicting habit, a creature of the dark desiring to walk in the sun.”
“I suppose next you’ll tell me you have a tan,” she taunted.
He unfastened the first two buttons of his shirt, revealing an intriguing triangle of dark hair. The sexual craving sharpened. Mara studied his skin, the same golden color as his face.
“I do tan easily in the sun. I am Italian.” Those dark eyes twinkled with good humor as he fastened his shirt.
“I thought vampires sparkled in the sunshine,” she shot back.
“We haven’t sparkled since the era of disco lights and mirrored balls.”
The joke nearly coaxed a smile to her face. His good looks made her body hum like an electrical wire. The chemistry between them felt magical. Mara thought of how Jones had hummed while preparing her funeral pyre. She didn’t need a sexy vampire. She needed her weapons and her wits.
“Nice meeting you, vampire, but I have to run.”
He caught her arm in an iron grip. “No more running, Mara.”
Panic squeezed her throat. “How do you know my name?”
“I know everything about you. What you are, where you were born, your parents. Your powers as a Darklighter.” His gaze darkened. “What Dennis Jones tried to do to you.”
Mara fisted her hands. “What did I ever do to you? Or are you like Jones, you enjoy torturing others?”
“I’m here to save your life,” he said softly. He sat down. “I’m Lucien Marcello, sent from the Society to keep you from killing Jones.”
Every paranormal being knew of the secret Society. They used the most powerful Ancients to restore order when someone went bonkers or threatened to expose their kind to humans. If the lesser Ancients were machine guns, Lucien Marcello was their nuclear bomb. He’d once dispatched an entire pack of werewolf bounty hunters with his bare hands. The hunters never even scratched him.
Yet as he took her hand, his touch was gentle. The white light inside her hummed, recognized compassion and reached out for it.
Her dark side bristled. It was only when she exposed her warm, sappy side that people took advantage. Kidnapped her. Her bad side was too smart to let her get hurt.
Always go with the stronger side, she thought. Mara wrenched away.
“Jones deserves to die. I don’t need saving. Go bite a surfer. Leave me alone.”
“I cannot, Mara. Our destinies have collided.” His gaze burned with intent. “You saw the vision. We will be lovers.”
Cold sweat trickled down her back. “It was just a dream!”
“You know it was not,” he said gently. “Come with me. I don’t wish to see you die, and you will die if you kill Jones.”
The threat hung between them. But she had yet to fully explore her own powers. And to leave Jones unpunished, free to hurt more innocents?
Jones left the restaurant. He glanced across the street, saw her and smiled. Fear threaded through her, then curdled into cold rage.
“Bring it on,” she whispered.
Snarling, she felt her teeth sharpen. Fingers unfurled as talons sprouted. Mara itched to shred and rip and hurt. Just as he’d hurt her.
People glanced at her. Their eyes widened and then they scurried past. Some made remarks about Halloween photo shoots.
Jones gazed at the traffic as if to cross the street. Mara shot to her feet, only to have Lucien seize her wrist.
“Hurt him and what pain you inflict will be visited on you double.”
“Worth it.” She reached for the switchblade.
Lucien muttered an oath in a language Mara recognized as Latin. Her mother had spoken Latin fluently. Her sweet, angelic mother.
Her father had the real power, Mara thought.
“Look to your right,” he told her. “Two Society bounty hunters are waiting for you to attack Jones. When you do, they’ll be free to draw your blood. Not destroy you. Just hurt—and they can hurt very badly. Sometimes they don’t wait if they’ve seen your powers manifest.”
He gave a pointed look at her long gray talons. Terror snaked in her heart as the hunters started forward. Hunters never gave up. They liked to play, torment prey before they brought them in dead or alive.
With her parents, they had settled on dead.
Lucien held out a hand. “Come with me.”
The darkness screamed and raged. The calming light pulsed with common sense. She couldn’t take Jones here, out in the open.
The vampire offered safety away from the bounty hunters. He might be more dangerous, but for now, she’d take her chances.
Sheathing her talons, Mara took Lucien’s hand.
As she stood, the two hunters walked closer, their expressions savage and intent.
“Damnit,” Lucien muttered.
Shock filled her as he pulled her into his arms and covered her mouth with his.
Chapter 4
Warmth sang through Mara’s veins as Lucien’s lips coaxed and teased. His arms were two solid bands around her, holding her fast. She stopped trying to push him away. The snarling darkness faded, replaced by intrigue and desire.
Her arms slid up to wind around his neck. Drew him even closer as he deepened the kiss.
She’d never known kissing could be so wonderful. Parting her lips, she took his tongue inside the wet cavern of her mouth. Teasing, licking, tasting. Her tongue flicked at the tip of a fang, feeling it descend in response.
He tasted of darkness and sin, temptation and delicious need. And yet, beneath the wicked wanting was the bitter tang of sorrow, as if Lucien had danced with a devil much more powerful than the one inside her. Passion wound both of them together.
His scent wound around her in tendrils of spice and pure maleness. Mara whimpered as he fisted his hands in her hair. His erection rubbed against her lower belly.
We will be lovers.
Claiming her body, as he claimed her soul, dominating her and never allowing her the heady freedom she’d called life. The vision burned in her mind as his tongue tangled with hers.
And then he pulled away, his dark eyes calm while hers were wide with desire, his breathing even as hers was ragged. The kiss meant nothing.
Nothing at all. Trembling, she wiped her mouth clean of his taste, his touch. Anger burned with a cool flame. “What the hell was that about?”
“Give me a moment,” Lucien told her.
Jones had vanished. But the hunters hadn’t left.
His gaze locked on them like a laser beam. “Leave us. She’s violated no rules.”
A deep growl rumbled from one werewolf. They did not budge. Lucien squeezed his fist.
Blood streamed from the nostrils of the growling hunter. Holding his head, the shifter cursed as his partner paled. They turned and stalked off.
“Come.” Lucien took her hand. “My hotel is near.”
He escorted her to a sleek Mercedes. When they reached the beachside resort, she finally spoke. “You kissed me as a distraction.”
Lucien got out and then opened her car door with a courtly, Old World manner as a valet rushed to aid them. “I kissed you to mark you as mine. As a warning for them to keep their distance. And when that didn’t work, I applied a little more pressure.”
“I’m not yours.”
Desire smoldered in his gaze. “You will be—soon. It is our future, Mara.”
Shock left her speechless. As they entered the hotel, the doorman gave her a friendly smile and a wink. As if he knew Lucien’s intentions.
Mara growled and sent a thought stabbing into the doorman’s head. Wincing, the man pressed two fingers against his temple.
Lucien frowned and hustled her toward a bank of elevators. “No more of that, Mara. He did nothing to you.”
“What’s the big deal? You did the same to the hunter. I only gave him a splitting headache so he’d think twice about winking at me. Not that he has a brain, seeing what he does for a living.”
As they stepped into the elevator, Lucien shook his head. “Don’t judge so quickly. That doorman is named Mark, and he was a professor of economics. Mark developed a gambling problem, his wife divorced him and he took to drinking. This is only temporary.”
“Who are you, Saint Lucien? Who gives a damn about a doorman?”
The bell dinged and Lucien stepped aside to let her pass. “You did, Mara. You met Mark when he was homeless, dirty and panhandling on the street and you gave him money for a hot meal. No one else would look at him, but you. Your kindness gave him confidence to seek out help and get this job.”
Too stunned to respond, she waited as he unlocked the door to his suite. Mara followed Lucien into a living room with an L-shaped white leather sofa, a wet bar and sleek wood furnishings. Behind the living room was a bedroom with sliding glass doors looking out to a frothy turquoise ocean.
Closing the door behind him, Lucien leaned against it. “You’ll stay here, with me and out of sight.”
“Like hell I will. I’m here only until those hunters stop following me. Or I can harness enough power to break their kneecaps.”
“You will not touch them and you will not disobey me in this.”
Bristling, she told him to do something anatomically impossible. His sculpted lips twitched.
“Such a filthy mouth. You should be spanked,” he murmured.
“I dare you to try it,” she taunted.
Breath hitched in her lungs as he unbuckled his elegant black leather belt. Gucci, she noted dimly as she backed away. Light glinted off the silver buckle.
It split the air with a crackling sound as he whipped it. Lucien’s eyes gleamed with challenge.
Mara turned to run, but he caught her by the waist. “Never dare me to try anything, Mara. Now pull your pants down.”
“No way,” she squealed.
Yes. Way.
The deep voice spoke inside her mind, compelling her obedience. Horrified, she found her hands fumbling with the zipper on her jeans. They slid over her hips, down to her ankles. Lucien gave a small smile.
“White panties with little blue flowers. Quite feminine.”
Pull those down as well.
Mara struggled against the overwhelming command but hooked her fingers into the underwear and tugged them past her hips.
His jaw went taut as he studied the thatch of dark curls, the slight splay of her thighs.
Lucien hooked an arm around her waist. Captive in his powerful grip, she cursed as he sat and drew her over his knees.
The belt cracked the air again. Tensing, she waited for the bite of pain. But instead of hitting her, his long fingers stroked her bare bottom. Lucien squeezed and gently kneaded until she shivered with pleasure.
“I should spank you,” he murmured. “But I hate leaving a mark on such a beautiful ass. There are more pleasurable activities I have in mind for it.”
Cupping her ass, he gave a playful squeeze. “Such as cushioning me when I mount you from behind.”
A moan escaped her as a warm, wet tongue stroked over one rounded cheek. “Or taste your sweet flesh all over. Mmm.”
When he slid a finger into her crevice and down across the wet cleft of her core, she did cry out. “So many pleasures. I shall not spank you. I’ll savor your sweet skin later. All over.”
Oh please. Please.
Burning with embarrassment, she turned her face away. This time she knew it wasn’t his silky voice speaking inside her mind, but her own desire.
Lucien released her and she tumbled to the floor, her panties and jeans around her ankles. Mara glared at him as he rebuckled his belt.
“I’d get up if I were you,” Lucien advised. “You look quite tempting lying on the floor with your pants down.”
As she wriggled back into her clothing, he chuckled. Glaring at him, she buttoned her pants. “Mind control. Big deal. You think that sets you above my demon?”
A twinkle lit his dark eyes. “Perhaps.”
Mara’s jaw dropped as Lucien began floating toward the ceiling like a balloon. He rose until his head nearly hit the ceiling.
“I’m quite above your demon now.”
“Oh…wow,” she said weakly.
“Though perhaps not your angel, if she has wings,” he joked, slowly descending.
As his shoes hit the floor, Lucien gave a cocky grin. “Make yourself comfortable. I must make a phone call.”
Mara fled into the bedroom to escape his amused gaze. The vampire had enormous powers the likes of which she had never seen.
The elegant furnishings did little to soothe her turbulent emotions. She paced, and then her gaze fell on a single spray of white orchids. In a glass vase on a small table by the sliders, the orchids shimmered with beauty.
So delicate and frail. The raging emotions quieted.
Mara touched the orchid, remembering the flowers her father used to surprise her mother with. Her mother’s soft cry of delight, her father’s shy grin. Then she remembered the day she came home to find her younger sister sobbing with fear, her parents’ bodies lying on the floor.
Blood pooling at their feet.
The orchid shriveled, the delic
ate leaves curling and turning brown as it died.
Nothing survives around me. Tears burned the back of her throat.
She opened the sliders and stepped outside.
Hands gripping the railing, Mara gazed at the delicate lace of the waves, the churning blue ocean. Her stomach felt like glass grinding in a blender.
“The orchid died because of your pain, not because you willed it.”
Lucien. Stiffening her shoulders, she stared at the ocean. The vampire had the power to see inside her mind. She felt more exposed than when he’d forced her to yank her pants down. Mara gave an indifferent shrug.
“I wanted it to die.”
“Untrue. I can feel your grief. It’s like a hot wind, biting and sharp.”
“You don’t know anything about me.”
“You’re the oldest of triplet sisters whose mother and father paired in an illegal mating. Your parents were killed by a Society bounty hunter six years ago. To escape attention, you and your sisters went into hiding, living on the trust fund your parents left for you. You were the main caretaker for your sisters, but when you turned twenty-one, all three of you parted ways because your goals diverged. Samantha wants to use her growing dark powers to avenge your parents’ deaths, Ariana is determined to never use her dark powers and you want to fit into the human world. Or try. You recently began college courses and were abducted by Jones the second day of classes.”
Tensing she curled her fingers on the concrete railing. “I knew the Society had a file on me. All because my father was a demon, they’ve written me off as one, too.”
“You are not your father, Mara. You must temper the darkness inside you or it will kill you instead.”
“Who are you, my judge, jury and executioner?” she snapped.
“I do not wish to be. I want to help you.”
The gentleness of his voice nearly undid her. She must remain strong. The only person she could trust was herself. “I don’t need help.”
“Don’t be so certain. The hunters avoided you until your twenty-first birthday. They will never stop stalking you until the Society is satisfied you aren’t a threat.”
She turned to face him. “What do they want?”
Hope fluttered inside her. If she could find a way to stop this, she could live a normal life. Please, she thought desperately. A normal life.