by Bella Klaus
I shook off those thoughts and focused my gaze on Valentine’s beauty mark. The mage was dead. I saw the blood and the disembodied fingers.
“Morata,” Valentine drawled.
“Don’t call me that,” I snapped.
If Valentine hadn’t lied about something as huge as his love for me, I wouldn’t be standing here in a grubby t-shirt with a patch of blood three floors below me and a gigantic leopard on my bed.
He exhaled a weary breath like I was the one with the problem. “That man you encountered was an assassin sent to kill you. This apartment is no longer safe.”
“Why?” I met his gaze.
His brows furrowed. “Did you miss what I said about the assassin?”
I narrowed my eyes. “You know exactly what I’m asking.” I flung my arm to the side. “Why did Macavity turn into a leopard? Why is he suddenly tame when he’s just killed a man, and why were you lurking outside my building?”
Valentine drew back, letting his gaze skim me once more, starting from my messy hair, down my shapeless t-shirt, bare thighs and to my bare feet, which were now probably encrusted with dirt and dried blood. His gaze swept up on my body, lingering on my erect nipples.
I curled my shoulders, wrapped an arm around my waist and fought back a flush. “You still haven’t answered my question.”
“Did you not agree to a vampire guard?” He raised a dark brow.
“Yes, but I thought you were talking about one of your security vampires,” I said.
The corner of Valentine’s mouth lifted into an amused smile.
Alright, maybe I was getting the terminology wrong, and the males were vassals or footmen or some other word to indicate they were working for a king, but that wasn’t the bloody point.
“Are you complaining that I came to save you tonight?” he asked.
“No—”
“Then I don't know why you’re making a fuss.”
“You didn’t answer my question.” I pointed at the leopard, who now lay on his front, taking up the entire bed. “What about Macavity?”
Valentine’s smile faded. “Your aunt thought he should watch over you in case someone hostile came to your apartment.”
My eyes widened, and I met Valentine’s gaze. When I was growing up, Aunt Arianna never let me have a cat because she was allergic to the creatures. Macavity had been with me since I’d moved into Grosvenor Square.
“She sent him?” I asked.
Valentine’s hand on my cheek slid down my neck and onto my shoulder, leaving a trail of delicious warmth. “Pack your things before they send another assassin.”
“Who?” I asked. “But I haven’t—”
“Mera,” he growled. “Get changed or I will transport you as-is to the safe house."
I stared down at my too-short t-shirt, bare legs, and filthy feet. “You wouldn’t dare—”
Before I could complete that sentence, I was over his shoulder, traveling at the speed of sound through the hallways, and deposited in the warm leather seat of a limousine. Moments later, the limousine door opened, and Macavity stalked inside.
I ground my teeth. Was Valentine really going to leave me alone with a fully transformed and ravenous werecat?
Chapter Nine
Valentine didn’t join me in the back of the limo. I thought Macavity would set upon me during the car ride through the London streets, but the leopard stared at me through a green eye and went to sleep. Perhaps he’d been tired out by a night of shifting and murder.
I stared out of the window, trying to work out where we were going. We passed the edge of Grosvenor Square and entered Upper Grosvenor Street, which ran parallel to the crystal shop’s stretch of road. At Park Lane, the limo turned right and continued along the east side of Hyde Park.
By now, my heart rate had returned to normal, and I rubbed a patch of cold on my arm where the shadow mage had grabbed me. A line of residual power pulsed around my throat.
Back then, I’d been pumped full of adrenaline and was too terrified of what Macavity might become to notice what the man was doing. Now that I was calm and no longer in danger, I could focus on the sensation clinging to my skin.
The only way to describe it was the feeling you got when the sun disappeared behind a cloud on an autumn day. In the middle of summer, clouds were a respite from the sun, but autumn had a tendency to make a person miss the warmth. The shadow mage’s touch wasn’t just an absence of heat. It was an absence of love.
And what was the light that had caused him to release his grip? I glanced down at the firestone tattoos, wondering if they had attacked the man.
I turned my gaze down to the lounging leopard taking up the entire length of the limousine’s L-shaped seat. “Macavity?”
The leopard’s right ear twitched to say he was listening but not interested enough to raise his head.
“Were you sent to protect me?” I asked in a small voice.
Macavity nodded.
I swallowed hard and stared at his golden fur. I longed to feel if it was as soft and rich and luxurious as it looked. My hand twitched toward his shoulder, but I curled my fingers into fists and forced it back.
This was the same creature who had reduced a man to a puddle of blood. He probably didn’t want my grubby hands over his majestic fur.
“Are you a werecat?” I asked.
He shook his head and snarled.
I sucked in a shocked breath through my teeth. “Right. Because a werecat would be human throughout the month and a cat on the full moon.”
Macavity let out a soft snort, and his breathing deepened, indicating that he was asleep and not to be disturbed.
I glanced out of the window, watching the north side of Hyde Park race by on the left and Lancaster Gate station on the right.
In the Supernatural World, there were werewolves, humans who transformed only on the full moon, wolf-shifters, who could transform any time they wished, and then variations of beings with similar transformational abilities.
So, that meant were-tigers were only tigers once a month, while tiger-shifters could choose whenever they wanted to revert to their animal forms.
None of this explained Macavity, a cat who transformed into a huge leopard. As far as I knew, there was no such thing as a supernatural animal.
Perhaps Aunt Arianna had granted him a one-time transformation to help me when I was in need. It would explain why the cat seemed to eat more than was appropriate for his size and was always on the prowl for more food.
Hyde Park Place turned into Bayswater Road, and I wondered how far this safe house would take me away from the crystal shop. We passed Queensway Station and reached the end of the park, and continued into Notting Hill.
A breath caught in the back of my throat. Notting Hill was just a bus ride away and was a great place to live and socialize, but I thought the safe house would be outside London. The limousine cruised down a street of restaurants and bars and boutiques, which then turned residential, where we slowed to a stop.
I stared into the open doorway of a detached three-story villa that looked like something Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts would have occupied in the Notting Hill movie.
A short fence of wrought iron spanned its exterior, creating a small paved garden. Two tall windows stood beside the house’s portico entrance of slimline pillars holding up an ornate stone plinth. A white balcony spanned the entire floor above, making me wonder what this place would be like during the carnival.
What on earth was I thinking? I shook off thoughts of exterior decor and focused on the leopard twitching himself awake. Macavity raised his head and stared through the villa’s open door. This had to be the safe house.
I pressed my thighs together and smoothed down my t-shirt, expecting Valentine to open the door with a smirk, but the leopard raised his head in a let-me-out glower.
“Fine.” I opened the door, letting in a gust of cool air.
Macavity stepped out first and stalked down the villa’s short path with his
head up and his tail curling like a satisfied snake. He paused at the door, pushed it open with his head, and disappeared into the house.
I glanced from side to side down the residential street, checking that nobody was around before dashing down the path and into the warm house.
A bright entrance hall of marble floors and painted walls stretched out the length of the villa. It was large enough to fit my apartment, the crystal shop, and all its treatment rooms.
I followed after Macavity, passing two doors on my left and right that I assumed led to large rooms of some sort, but my gaze was fixed on a wide, circular staircase that curved along the back wall.
The cool stones felt smooth underfoot as I followed Macavity up the stairs. He appeared to know where he was going, and while I didn’t trust him around my meat and fish, he seemed to want to keep me safe.
Who knew what the cat did during the day when I was at work. I’d always thought he went back to his owner for cuddles and gourmet treats, but he might have come here.
“Valentine?” My voice echoed across the walls.
Macavity made a high-pitched purr in the back of his throat that almost sounded like pity.
I gulped, wondering if this safe house would be my prison. Someone was definitely out to get me but I didn’t know if it was some mystery assassin, Mr. Masood, or Valentine working with my supposed cat.
The staircase took us past a huge drawing room that looked like it spanned the entire house. A fire crackled in a white marble hearth, illuminating a room of ivory sofas, mahogany floorboards, and a sumptuous white rug.
Tall floor lamps shone their dim light over the low tables dotted about the room, also highlighting the floor-to-ceiling windows and balcony that overlooked the street.
Gulping at the splendor, I continued up the winding staircase. This was nothing like Aunt Arianna’s little cottage in Logris. That place was small and cozy and felt like home. This house was like a miniature version of Valentine’s palace.
At the next floor up, Macavity left the stairs, padded across a marble floor, and pushed open a door with his head. We stepped into a bedroom nearly twice the size of my studio in Grosvenor square, with a king-sized bed covered in a quilt of ivory and white silk.
Another fireplace warmed the room, providing gentle light over silver picture frames of myself, Aunt Arianna, people around the coven, and my long-dead mother.
Before I could react to seeing items from my old house, a pulse of power caught my attention. My heart skipped several beats, and I rushed to the bedside, where a dagger the size of my palm lay on the dresser. The note attached to it said:
This metal is forged of solid flame and will kill any supernatural being except those who wield fire.
Keep it with you at all times. It may save your life.
Valentine.
I placed a hand over my mouth and gasped. Its handle looked and felt like ivory but its blade was of a metal so fine that it appeared transparent. I held it up to the fireplace, watching the flames drift toward it like sunflowers following the sun.
“Why would any assassin want to target me?” I muttered under my breath.
Macavity padded toward the bed, gently knocking me aside with his warm, furry body.
“Hey,” I snapped. “Don’t get on that—”
It was too late. The oversized leopard had already taken up the center of the king-sized bed and curled into a ball as though he was still a Bengal cat.
“Aren’t you supposed to sleep in the trees?” I muttered.
A knock sounded on the door, and a sensation of smoke curled around my senses. Valentine stepped inside with a mug of something steaming and smelling of chocolate and vanilla.
“I came to tuck you in,” he said.
I folded my arms across my chest. “Will you explain what’s happening now?”
“Is that the thanks I get for saving your hide?” he asked with a raised brow.
“Macavity saved me from that man,” I said. “And you just saved Macavity from getting noticed by everyone on Grosvenor Square.”
Valentine set down the mug on the bedside table and walked toward me with the sinuous gait of a predator. When he wanted to, he could move swiftly and silently, pouncing out of nowhere and pinning a girl down for pleasure that could make her heart explode with lust.
His gaze lingered on my lips. “The Inamorata I used to know wasn’t so abrasive.”
“She learned one of life’s greatest lessons and grew up,” I said.
“Enlighten me,” he drawled.
“Never trust a vampire bearing safe houses.”
His face split into a grin that made my pulse quicken. This was just a game to him. An attempt to wear me down until I gave in to his advances and let him break me for a second time.
Aunt Arianna had warned me about getting involved with a vampire, and I hadn’t taken her words to heart. Not because I’d been foolish but because Valentine hadn’t come at me with a silver tongue and seductive eyes.
When I was sixteen, Valentine’s assistant had plucked me out of a classroom of twenty others to become an intern at his property holding company, and Valentine had barely noticed me for the first two years of my employment.
It was only when I attended a few work-related events in the human world that we had even spoken, but I had stuttered so badly I thought he would fire me on the spot. He didn’t.
When I turned eighteen, he talked to me a little more, but he’d kept our conversation on neutral subjects like human books and art. Little did I know that those innocent conversations had been part of a long-term strategy of seduction.
I tore my gaze away from his twinkling violet eyes and away from those full lips. Lips that had kissed me everywhere and had me begging for more. Lips that had featured in my most erotic dreams.
Turning away from the man in my bedroom, I picked up the mug of hot chocolate he’d left on the bedside and held it in front of me like a shield.
Valentine was a mystery wrapped up in a dark and sexy and enigmatic package. I never understood the point of his pursuit of me.
All that effort for one afternoon of sex with a virgin and a few mouthfuls of my blood? What was the point when there were so many willing blood cows?
Some Neutrals survived by selling their blood for a living. Most bottled their blood and delivered it to their vampire patrons and others preferred to sell through a broker for maximum discretion.
The most dangerous way to supply a vampire was letting them feed from the vein because their saliva contained thrall, which heightened arousal, but it was even worse to let them bite.
A vampire’s bite created the most intense high and left a part of the vampire within their victim. The more bites the victim experienced, the deeper the bond they’d create with the vampire.
There were people so addicted to the bite of a vampire that they spent their lives chasing that high until the vampires bored of their company. Then they’d turn to the black-market faeries who could synthesize thrall in exchange for six months of a person’s youth. Prematurely aged and shunned, those people would live on the fringes of society as outcasts.
I took a step back, trying to slow my breaths. “What do you want from me?”
“To keep you safe.” He loomed over me, filling my nostrils with his smoky, masculine scent.
My pulse fluttered in my throat like a trapped bird. “You still haven’t explained why.”
Valentine took my right hand and skimmed his fingers over the firestone tattoo, sending a line of sensation across my flesh. “A clever young woman should have worked it out by now.”
“Apparently, I have a blind spot when it comes to deception.”
His soft chuckle caressed my skin. “What makes you think I’m not being honest?”
Nature, or rather supernatural magic, had honed everything about the man for maximum seduction. His scent, his voice, the very way it teased my eardrums set a rush of dopamine to my brain, urging me to demand more and more until I was
willing to offer him anything in exchange for a few more caresses, a few more moments in his presence.
I squeezed my eyes shut and focused. Focused on the hurt and heartbreak and humiliation of opening my heart and body to him, of being rejected in front of his vampires. The first time had been devastating, but I couldn’t blame myself for being an inexperienced girl wanting love.
These three years, I’d come to terms with what he had done and I wasn’t about to allow myself to experience the heights and depths of emotion associated with Valentine Sargon.
Valentine made a questioning hum in the back of his throat, indicating that I hadn’t elaborated on why I thought he was being deceitful.
Opening my eyes, I focused on the bridge of his perfect nose. “You abducted me into this safe house against my will, and now you’ve brought all my favorite things as a distraction.”
His grin widened. “I only brought you a cup of hot chocolate… And myself.”
My cheeks burned with mortification. Valentine was my least favorite thing, ranking somewhere below those disembodied fingers floating in a pool of blood.
“I was referring to Macavity.”
The cat in question raised his head and made a curious sound. Perhaps I hadn’t been so charitable toward him before his transformation, but now that I knew he’d protected me from that shadow mage, I loved him more than ever.
“Morata,” Valentine drawled.
“Please don’t call me that.”
“It’s what you are to me.”
A lump formed in the back of my throat, but it wasn’t out of nostalgia or a rush of positive sentiment. This feeling reminded me of my younger days at the academy, when I hadn’t developed enough magic to qualify for Logris University. Each time someone made a barbed comment that I wouldn’t amount to anything, my throat would thicken with a lump of sorrow.
“My darling, precious inamorata,” he said.
He probably wanted me to melt at the words, the way I usually did when he used to say them, but they hit with a sting hard enough to make me flinch. I didn’t want him to know how much his taunting had affected me, but my indifferent act only encouraged him to push and flirt and mock.
