by Nikki Sex
He pauses, turns to me. His red rimmed, rheumy eyes flash with what? Amusement? Teasing certainty? Some kind of magic?
“One more thing before I go. Don’t waste your time looking for a ghost.”
“No? If she’s not a ghost, what am I looking for?”
He sends me another mischievous, unfathomable look—his ancient, well-used body unable to mask the psychic powerhouse underneath. At least, not from me.
“Lilly’s still human,” Noah says, “and she isn’t dead.” Softly, carefully, he closes the door behind him.
His “human” comment throws me. Is he aware of the paranormal world? I stare blankly at the closed door for several heartbeats, wondering if I should follow him. Wondering if Noah would be willing to part with that little book of his, or at least provide me a copy.
Just as I make up my mind to go after him, the door opens. Expecting Noah Greenfield’s return, my lips curve into a smile—but it’s not my ninety-six-year-old human psychic that stands before me.
It’s his direct opposite!
Fuck!
Paradox—the scary local Vampire King—full of power, magic, and menace, steps into my office.
Fuckity! Fuck! Fuuuuck!
Chapter 43.
Leeeooonidass! My frantic mental call comes out as a brain-blasting scream.
The Master of Vancouver is a good foot taller than I am, at least 250lbs of pure muscle—I broadcast an image of the giant along with my scream. Dark caramel skin, a full beard, his dreads hang past his wide, beefy shoulders. The vampire’s chest is massive, his abs ripped.
My inner wolf snarls, eager to attack, while my demon thrums, fascinated by the vamp’s high-voltage power.
A stream of information flies through my mind: Paradox, the Master of Vancouver’s Vortex, is an influential vamp who’s overseen his Kiss for centuries. An ancient vampire, he can wake during the day, and walk in daylight for short periods. The Vampire King is used to getting his way.
Unfortunately, my last run-in with him entailed Leonidas and me escaping with his prisoner, Stafford’s second, out from under his nose. We went against Paradox’s direct orders, kicking a few vamp asses on the way.
Leonidas assured me he’d mended all bridges I feared we’d burned down by rescuing Kalev. If not, is Paradox here to add me as an exhibit in his gallery?
Leonidas’s blood no longer runs through my veins, so I can’t open a door to the void and flash out of here. Further, my aura registers as normal human—not even psychic. That’s why my Jugulo led Paradox to believe I’m a super-powerful witch.
At least he hasn’t attacked me.
Yet.
No point contacting my mate. The Beast Lord would go mental trying to reach me, to protect me. Behind the Magic Lands barrier, miles away, Stafford can’t help me right now.
Paradox could rip out my throat in the blink of an eye. Instead, he stands before me with a deceptively appealing smile on his face, doing absolutely nothing.
Look calm! Act cool and collected. I got this.
My loyal Jugulo arrives before my next breath. Fangs flashing, he materializes between us. Facing Paradox, he’s ready to strike. I stare at his broad back, my stomach pitching despite my rescuer’s presence.
My vampire’s placed me safely behind him, bless his cotton sox!
Thank you, Leonidas! I think, but I don’t mentally send to him. This is not a good time to distract my protector.
“Paradox, why are you here?” he demands, his faint accent much stronger than usual, evidence of his heightened emotional state. I’d felt his stark fear upon hearing my scream, now it’s replaced with a mist of relief.
“I’m here to see Miss St. John, Jugulo,” Paradox says in his deep booming voice. Taller, broader—hell, bigger everywhere.
The Master of Vancouver looks at me from over my vampire’s shoulder. His dark eyes glitter as he meets my gaze. “I am your four o’clock appointment.”
Stunned, I open my mouth. Close it again, swallow, processing his words. “Oh, ah, OK. I see,” I manage to utter, falling back on mindless common courtesy. “Um, please, have a seat. Can I get you anything? Spirits? Wine?”
“No. That will not be necessary.”
I regard the closed door to my office. “My human friends?” I ask tentatively.
The look he gives me is all arrogance, yet I sense an undercurrent of amusement. “There is no need to compel or feed from ordinary humans,” he says with virtuous distain. “I prefer psychics. Furthermore, I’m here on legitimate business.”
“Yes, of course.” I nod, relieved. “Thank you.”
Like civilized people, in most any nation of the world, we sit down. Leonidas and I take a seat on one couch, Paradox on the other. An invisible miasma of magic, energy, and testosterone fill the room. Arms across the back of the sofa, Paradox settles back like a lion at rest.
My vampire also appears relaxed, but isn’t. Savage preternatural warriors—both at the top of the food chain. Who would win in a battle between them? I still put my money on the demon hunter.
“Jugulo, your blood-bonded carries the scent of wolf. Why is that? Has she befriended a shapeshifting mutt?”
Leonidas bares his teeth in a predatory smile, full of open menace. “My blood-bond is unique in countless ways. If any dared touch her, I would hunt them down, and cause them endless suffering.” His brilliant blue eyes are Arctic cold, hard as diamonds, and ruthless as hell. “Their slow, torturous death would make the Spanish Inquisition seem tame.”
Paradox’s booming laugh echoes through the room. “As it should be.” He sits forward, his eyes bright and sharp. “I have three blood-bonded humans, all cherished and most beloved.” His jaw tightens. “If a vampire dared speak to any of them without my permission, they would risk becoming a feature in my gallery.”
“As it should be,” Leonidas agrees.
“This marches close to the matter I have come to discuss with your blood-bonded. My Taboo has vanished, my tie to her severed.”
Culturally, throughout the centuries, a blood-bond denotes possession. Valued, treasured, even loved—yes, but still considered the vampire’s sole property.
Leonidas’s brow furrows. “You fear a threat to your reign?”
“Possibly. Such insults are not uncommon as the first shot in the start of war. The taking of a blood-bond is similar to the sacrificing of a pawn.”
“Do you require the assistance of a Jugulo to test the loyalty of your subjects?”
“Perhaps.”
Listening, I’m lost. I’ve no idea what they’re talking about, but I recall Taboo, a gorgeous, human woman with a perfect smile, generous breasts and skin like silk. Tall and thin as a sapling, she had burnished bronze tresses, full red lips, pale skin, and ice blue eyes. Maybe forty years old, I’d sensed magic in her energy signature.
I’d found myself instantly liking her. Then I wondered if my attraction was the result of magical compulsion, either intentionally, or unintentionally caused by a psychic gift she had from birth.
Leonidas gives Paradox a gracious nod. “You have my sympathy for your loss, and my permission to speak to Jan.”
Paradox turns to me. “Have you ever spoken to the soul of a dead vampire?”
“Many times,” I reply, remembering the ghosts haunting his art gallery.
Wonder and pleasure shine from his eyes. “As I thought—as I hoped,” he murmurs softly, as if to himself, “vampires do have souls.”
Whatever religious indoctrination he received has much to answer for, in my opinion. I allow myself a small smile, appropriate to his superior station. “Yes, my Lord. Vampires, like humans, can act on their darker natures—but they aren’t soulless. I believe the soul is eternal, impossible to kill.”
“If my Taboo is dead, would you know?”
“I believe so. Can you tell me what happened? When did you lose your bond with Taboo?”
“I fell asleep eight hours ago, that was when I last saw her. Taboo inte
nded to go shopping with her guard. When I woke, I could no longer sense her. In questioning her human bodyguard, I discovered he’d suffered amnesia. He wasn’t compelled by a vampire, I was unable to recognize the energy. It may have been the result of a sorcerer’s spell.”
“I see.” Frowning, I consider possibilities. Vamps, unconscious from “sun-sleep,” are dead to the world, impossible to rouse. That’s when they’re most vulnerable.
My Jugulo remains blank and straight faced, but I know him well enough to see he’s upset. “Whoever took her, was aware of her connection to Paradox,” he observes. “They knew exactly when to strike.”
“Yes,” I agree. “Most likely, they’ve had her for eight hours. Taboo was fond of you, I sensed tremendous loyalty toward her King the moment I met her. If she were dead, I believe she’d be here with you, unless she’s already passed on.”
His eyes light, he shifts toward me. “Do you sense her? Can you speak to her?”
“Give me a moment to search more thoroughly.” I hold up a hand, a gesture to wait. Opening my senses, I extend psychic tendrils, combing the area.
One look upward and Prince Ali Ben Abad, the Spanish Moor killed by Leonidas, gives me a flirty wink. Thanks to my Jugulo’s years as a dedicated demon assassin, truckloads of ghosts haunt him. Consequently, due to our connection, they also hang around me. I must invest time to send more to the other side. Leonidas’s eight-year-old brother’s spirit stares at me from above, still refusing to speak to me. The siblings are a mystery I must find the time to solve.
“Taboo? Taboo, blood-bound to Paradox, come to me,” I mentally call. Yet other than my Jugulo’s large entourage of restless dead, I don’t see or sense Taboo.
I shake my head, meet Paradox’s eyes. “I’m sorry, she’s not here.”
Paradox is suddenly on his feet, his movements liquid, graceful, and supernaturally fast.
Alert and protective, Leonidas comes to attention, watches him closely.
The King stares down at me, a proprietary look in his dark eyes. “For a vast sum of money, I have placed your services on immediate retainer.”
I inhale, a short, sharp, unwanted display of apprehension.
His blinding smile at my shock and surprise, is bold and self-assured. “Currently, I am your only client. I made this arrangement with the owner of this establishment.”
“I see.”
His smile vanishes, his eyes darken with passion. “Right now! Today! Living or dead, you must locate my blood-bonded, Taboo.”
Chapter 44.
Millicent
Hearing voices outside, Millicent immediately lies down on the bed in the rustic log cabin. She doesn’t want anyone to know she’s awake. When the friendly dog trots in, tail wagging, she silently pets the engaging animal.
Two humans stand within throwing distance in the meadow outside of Leonidas’s fortress home. In low voices, she hears them quietly discuss her.
One at a time, Leonidas brought them. Then he left. Why are they here?
“Jan told me Leonidas cleaned out that cabin and put a bed in it, so Millicent can be with her animals during the night,” a soft female voice says. “Her chain leads inside—she must be sleeping there, right now.”
“Yes.”
“Oh, look! The door’s open, Toby’s gone inside. Should I call him back?”
“No, don’t worry about it, Hope. Toby won’t disturb her. New vampires are dead to the world during daylight. You can talk to Millicent after dark. Please, come inside. You’ll like Leonidas’s home.”
The woman named Hope laughs, a joyful sound. “I love it already.”
Relieved they’re leaving, Millicent smiles. People are dangerous and she has secrets. No one knows sunlight doesn’t bother her. Further, from the moment of her transition, she pretended to be asleep. A reaction to her kidnapping, it fooled Leonidas. He thinks she requires a certain amount of rest. In truth, she needs even less.
Eventually, she’ll escape the vampire’s constant supervision.
One day, I’ll use that free time to visit my family for a bit of well-deserved payback. They won’t enjoy it, but I will. Immensely.
Toby, the Welsh springer spaniel, noses into her armpit. “What a good dog,” she whispers, hugging and generously petting him. “Look how cute you are, with those big, expressive eyes, and soft, floppy ears.”
The moment she stops stroking him, Toby places a paw on her thigh, making her giggle and resume her petting. Red face, ears, and back, with a thick white stripe down his nose, he’s beautiful. Leonidas promised to get her a dog of her own.
Maybe that’s where he went? To buy her a dog?
The vampire’s gone somewhere. If he was here, she’d sense his powerful aura. One thought of him, and her pulse picks up, her body hums. Remembering the taste of his blood makes every inch of her skin come to life, and her temperature soar.
Millicent closes her eyes, unable to control her ridiculous physical response to him.
He doesn’t give a rat’s ass about me. Why can’t I get him out of my head? I need to stop feeling this way. It’s wrong. Stupid. Weak.
Hearing their footsteps lightly tapping up the steps to the front door of the main house, her heart lifts. The two love-struck humans have left—along with the heavy sexual charge hanging like fog in the air around them.
Millicent only feels safe when she’s alone, or with her animals. For her, there’s nothing to fear from any animal, not even the friendly bear who came to visit her last night.
Toby licks her hand, a loving doggy kiss. “It’s nice to meet you, too, but who’s the woman with the crush on John?” she asks.
The dog sits up, his forehead lifts slightly, expressively, similar to human brows. He stares into her eyes as though trying to communicate. His expression makes Millicent giggle.
“Hope is her name. Is she your mistress?”
Toby places his paw on her thigh again.
Shaking her head, she flawlessly recalls the alluring taste of Janice St. John’s blood. Jan had a rich magical essence. When Millicent fed from her, Jan said the next time she visited, she’d return with Toby, her dog.
Toby’s arrived, but with Hope instead.
The other visitor, Detective John Joseph, is here often. He has a quiet, distinctive voice—when he uses it. John spends time with Millicent in his strange, silent way. Of First Nation’s heritage, he rarely speaks. Mainly he carves wooden animals while sitting near her.
Once, he fashioned a whale from soft wood, leaving it on the table for her. “The whale is my tribal totem,” he’d told her. “Whales have an excellent memory. They are the record keepers of the world.”
The detective seems patient and kind, but like everyone else, Millicent can’t afford to trust him. She’s been fooled before, more than once. Never again.
John had also offered her a vein. His essence smelled primo delicious, but she refused to drink from him.
Vampire or not, a girl’s got to have standards. I’ll never prey on humans.
The woman named Jan had been an exception. She was different—human, but not human. Jan smelled like wolf, and something else. She told Millicent they were related. Truth or lie? If true, it’s another reason not to trust her.
John and Leonidas are blood-bonded, which means they share each other’s blood. Millicent doesn’t know how she feels about that. Conflicted, for sure. Anxious. Uncertain. Unhappy. Maybe even jealous.
What would it feel like if Leonidas fed from me?
Her body tightens. A surge of fresh heat rips through her, hot—carnal, erotic. She fights unwelcome sensations, curbing her physical reactions.
I’ve got to stop this! I must have better self-control.
“Do you like Detective Joseph?” she whispers to Toby. Talking to the dog is natural, she has a feeling he understands. “You know Hope and he have a thing for each other, right? You think it’ll work out?”
Toby snuffs agreeably, lays down on the bed beside her.
Curling into the dog, stroking his fur, she opens a small amount of the awareness she’s ruthlessly muted. Like raw, exposed nerve endings, her senses are stimulated by everything, no matter how insignificant. A passing breeze, an owl on the wing, a look, a smell, a sound, a taste, a thought...
Unused to the sheer amount of information bombarding her, she swiftly learned to dull her perceptions. Vampires endure so much sensory input—that is, if she is truly a vampire.
Millicent still hasn’t decided.
Mind control? Long term magical illusion? Just another tormenting spell.
Despite the shy, lovesick couple being yards away, inside a thick-walled fortress—with her new-found senses, she knows every move they make. It’s vastly entertaining to listen to those two navigate through their stumbling, bumbling romance. Compared to Hope, Millicent feels so much older, more experienced. Certainly, more cynical.
They’re in the kitchen, getting drinks. Millicent might as well be in there with them she hears every word, every movement. That is, when they speak—which isn’t very often. She grins, amused by their awkward silences and timid comments, set within a fog of mutual attraction.
I thought John was reserved with Leonidas and me. The poor guy really keeps his mouth shut with Hope. Each of her faltering verbal starts, followed by his one-word replies is pathetic, yet funny as hell.
Unfortunately, their embarrassment begins to remind Millicent of an anxious public speaker haltingly talking to a packed auditorium. Witnessing an emotional train wreck is contagious. It makes her feel nervous, too.
At least she’s not watching these star-crossed lovers. Hearing them is bad enough, she couldn’t handle the visuals.
It’s already agonizing. If they go on like this much longer, it will be torture.
Chapter 45.
“Are you glad I came today?” Hope hesitantly asks.
