“She’s besotted with you. I saw it in her face. Let her go; don’t hurt her.”
Saloman smiled and closed her fists. “Don’t worry about Nicola. Dante hired her to spy on me.”
He loved the way her lips parted in shock. He wanted to kiss them, pull her so close against him that he could feel those beautiful breasts pressing into his chest. He wanted to lay her on the bed and undress her with exquisite care before seducing her and fucking her and biting her to pliant, willing insanity.
So when he felt the drifting of the sword, he didn’t move.
The sword had been in a downstairs room when Elizabeth had touched it. A little later, it had been moved, but not very far. Now Saloman could feel the distance between him and it increasing.
“Dante? Why would Dante spy on you?” Elizabeth demanded.
“To find out my next move. Adam’s next move.”
“And Nicola . . . Why don’t you just send her away?”
“Because I might get hungry.”
“Stop it!” She dragged her hands free and tried to push past him, but he wouldn’t let her, just stood immovably in her path until she gave up. “Something’s off about Dante. He knows too much, believes too much of this stuff, and his friends are like some sort of cult. Does he know about you?”
“Not yet.” Saloman considered. “But you’re right. Dante is a most interesting person. He has incredible power, in the human sense of the word. All the power of money and success, of political and social connections. Some people say he’s the most powerful man in the world because he holds sway over the president of the United States. Whichever happens to be in office.”
“Then what’s he doing here? What does he want? Apart from your sword.”
“That’s what I’d like to know.” Saloman’s sensitive ears picked up a car starting in the distance and then the sword began to fade fast from his senses. Instinctively, he stepped past Elizabeth to the door and laid his fingers on the handle. The sword was being stolen, which suited him just fine. He could catch whoever it was on the road and retrieve it and no one would ever connect it with Adam Simon.
“Saloman.” The quick, desperate word was wrung from her, forcing him to turn. She looked so beautiful and so lost that his heart seemed to break all over again. “I thought it would be different,” she whispered. “I used to dream of meeting you again, some chance encounter that would give each of us a moment of happiness. I never thought—”
She broke off and turned away from him. The sword was disappearing into the misty night. He could barely maintain the connection.
He said, “You never thought what?” He closed the distance between them, turning her back to face him. “That things between us would not be exactly as they were when we parted? That life would not have moved on?”
She closed her eyes, as if she could thus hide the tear squeezing out of one corner. Saloman took her face between his hands, brushed the tear with his thumb. “You have to live with the decisions you make. Pain does not invalidate them.”
“I know. I was prepared for pain, just not . . .” Jealousy. The word hovered between them, unspoken. “Indifference,” she finished.
Saloman listened to the beat of his own heart. It was much slower than hers, and yet for several moments, they seemed to beat in perfect time. Because he couldn’t help it, he brushed his lips across her smooth forehead, inhaled the perfume of her skin and her hair. He knew he could take her now, bury himself in her soft, passionate body until dawn, granting release and joy to them both. He ached for it, burned for it with an intensity that drove him nearer, pressing into the sweet contours of her body.
“There was never indifference,” he said low. Her eyes opened wide, staring deep into his with yearning and blind, powerful lust. Oh, yes, he could take her, thrust into her now before their bodies even hit the bed and she’d wrap herself around him and pull him in with rapture.
But it would change nothing.
Her gaze dropped to his lips. He smiled, because he couldn’t trust himself to kiss her and still leave her. But not for the first time, she surprised him. She stood on tiptoe and kissed him, just as she had the instant after trying to kill him, the instant before she confessed to loving him.
But that had been a kiss of desperation, a spontaneous outpouring of emotion. This was one of hot, blatant seduction. Her lips brushed his and fastened fiercely. Her tongue swept into his mouth, as if trying to absorb all of him. She sucked on his tongue until he snapped and took control, bending her backward with the force of his lust, plundering her mouth as his hands possessed her body, roving over her breasts and hips and thighs.
His robe came undone with her writhing and she moaned into his mouth as her hands encountered his naked flesh. She was his, as she’d always been his.
And his fucking her would not make her happy. Not for longer than the fucking lasted.
He straightened, drawing her with him, still kissing her, but more slowly now, until he could part their mouths and give her air.
Gently, he laid his forehead against hers. “Even valid decisions can be changed.”
She stared into his eyes, hope and temptation chasing each other across her expressive face. Slowly, longing gave way to the determination he’d seen all too often before.
She swallowed and stepped out of his arms. “Only for valid reasons.”
Saloman inclined his head. Whatever conclusion she reached, at least she would think again about their parting.
And his sword, damn it to hell, had gone well beyond his tracking range. “You’ll excuse me,” he murmured, walking across the room to the window and pulling back the curtains, “if I use the alternative exit.”
“Why? Are you leaving?” she asked, bewildered.
“I’m hunting,” he said, opening the casement wide and leaping onto the sill.
“Saloman,” she began warningly, then seemed to run out of words. Saloman launched himself through the window into the cool night air. Before his feet touched the ground, he was running in the direction he’d last sensed the sword.
“Can’t I even give you breakfast before you leave?” Dante pleaded.
“No, thank you,” Josh replied, still with that grimness he’d used last night after the sword incident. “Just the sword. We need to get going.”
Josh had roused her so early that she felt she’d never been asleep. She’d lain awake for hours, listening for any sounds that might indicate Saloman had come back to the house. She knew she should be anxious about whatever or whoever he was hunting out there, but in reality she was just pleased he wasn’t going after anyone she knew. Like Josh. Or Nicola. And selfishly, secretly, she wanted to sleep under the same roof as Saloman, wallowing in the heady mixture of excitement and perverse security his presence always brought her.
And now, as Dante led the way upstairs to a study where he said the safe was, she became conscious of even more conflicting emotions. She was both glad and sorry to be leaving here early, before she encountered Saloman again—or worse, Saloman with Nicola, whom he’d accused of spying for Dante.
Just inside the door of the study, Dante stopped dead. Josh actually bumped into him before apologizing with a hint of irritation.
“That’s weird,” Dante said, striding across the room. “The door’s open.”
Following them in, Elizabeth saw that the door of a large safe stood wide-open.
Dante almost fell to his knees, rummaging inside. “My God,” he said in tones of disbelief. “It’s gone! I’ve been robbed. . . .”
“What’s gone?” Josh demanded harshly. “Where’s my sword?”
“Gone.” Dante sat back on his heels. “It’s gone, Josh. Along with my goblet.”
“Impossible!” Josh exclaimed. “Who could possibly have stolen them? This isn’t New York City! There isn’t even a village here! Who the hell would rob you?”
Who the hell, indeed?
Quietly, Elizabeth slipped out of the room and hastened along the passage to
the stairs. Her heart drummed like a rabbit’s as she ran up and along the hallway to Saloman’s room. This time, uncaring whether Nicola was there, she entered without knocking.
“Come in,” said Saloman’s deep voice in some amusement.
Although the curtains still shut out the bright, early morning sunshine, there was more than enough light for her to appreciate the sight of him lying on top of his bed like some large, predatory cat, watching her with one hand tucked behind his head. At least he wore more than last night’s black silk robe. In fact, apart from socks, he appeared to be fully dressed in black trousers and a loose-sleeved shirt.
Elizabeth, ignoring the leap of lust in her stomach, swung the door closed behind her. “You took it, didn’t you?” she said without preamble.
“Took what?”
“Josh’s sword!”
“You mean my sword.” He crossed his legs, acknowledging her irritation only by a faint twitch of his lips. “Actually, I didn’t. Someone made off with it while I was talking to you. By the time I, er, gave chase, it was too far away. I couldn’t track it.”
There was no way to be sure he was telling the truth. Except that he generally disdained to lie.
Slowly, she sank down on the bed beside him. “Really?”
“Really.” His black, opaque eyes gazed steadily into hers. Just looking at him made her heart turn over. In the half-light he seemed more beautiful than ever, his dramatic black hair tumbled around his almost-sculpted face with its broad bones and shadowed hollows. Without even raising his head from the pillow, he managed to look sexier than any other man she’d ever seen, on- or offscreen.
Trying to focus, she said, “Then who did take it? Where is it?”
“I haven’t a clue,” he confessed.
She frowned. “Aren’t you angry?”
“I think your Josh is angry enough for all of us.”
“I think he suspects Dante himself.”
“He’s almost certainly right.” Saloman sat up with one of his sudden, graceful movements and swung his legs off the bed. Elizabeth sprang to her feet to avoid being too close to him. She wanted to hold him too much, was afraid to get too near him.
“I’ve got to go,” she muttered, almost running toward the door, where she paused and turned. “Saloman? You won’t hurt Josh, will you?”
His lip curled. “What in the world makes you think that?”
Chapter Seven
On a bleak piece of waste ground in Queens, the vampire Severin faced his rival in the darkness, and laughed.
“You really don’t have a clue, do you?” he said, sweeping his gaze from Travis to the bodyguards and followers lined up behind him. “I’ve spoken to him, and trust me, our differences no longer matter. Saloman has more power in his little finger than you and I will ever muster between us.”
Travis, who’d looked slightly irritated by Severin’s laughter, now pushed his trilby hat farther back on his head and grinned. “So, what, you’ve come to me for protection?”
Travis’s followers hooted. Severin’s vampires growled in response, and Severin realized afresh the risk he’d taken in coming here to New York. Probably it was this obvious risk that had brought Travis to meet him so quickly. Jacob, the unaligned vampire who’d carried his civil message to Travis in the first instance, now sat quite literally on the fence some distance away, picking his teeth while the levels of posturing and aggression increased. As if he were hanging around to watch the inevitable fight.
Well, it wasn’t inevitable, and the stakes were too high for him to be drawn into a senseless battle that could ruin everything.
Severin strove for calm. “You couldn’t protect yourself,” he insisted. “Not from him. I came from LA to suggest we lay our differences aside and welcome him to America.”
Travis stared at him. “Welcome him? Like some bloody messiah?”
“Yes,” Severin said eagerly. “He’s got vision, Travis, and he’s been making changes all across Europe and Asia. Things could be so much better for us—”
“Trouble is,” Travis interrupted, “I like things fine just the way they are. You want to hand your operation over to me, that’s good. But I’m not giving anything to this Saloman.”
Maggie stepped forward from behind Severin, exclaiming, “He’s an Ancient! How exactly do you propose to stop him?”
“I’ll think of something if and when he gets here,” Travis drawled.
He really was a stupid shit. Severin dragged his hand across his forehead, just as Travis, with a more enthusiastic glint in his eye, added, “Unless you actually came to propose an alliance against him?”
“Not against him,” Severin said evenly.
“Too scared, huh?”
The vampires behind them began to mutter aggressively. Again, Severin stilled the rumble with an impatient wave of his hand.
“Of Saloman? Maybe you should be scared, Travis. I didn’t have to come here; I could just have let Saloman wipe you out.”
“So, what, you want to impress the new boss by our cordiality?” Travis said disbelievingly. “Get kudos from him by talking me around? Exactly how much of an idiot do you take me for?” He strode forward and his vampires immediately came after him. “An Ancient isn’t a god. He can be beaten!”
“But he shouldn’t be,” Severin argued. “At least, not this one.”
“So you’re just going to lie down for the guy? Shit, I never liked you, Severin, but I never thought you lacked backbone before!”
He should have known better, Severin thought savagely, than to have come here and expected a sensible discussion with this fool who couldn’t see past the nose on his face, who cared for nothing except his stupid gambling joint. And now there had been too many insults for Severin to overlook in front of his followers. Already, Maggie was gazing at him with a mixture of outrage and worry.
“That’s funny,” Severin said deliberately. “I never thought you lacked quite so much brain before.”
That should do it, he thought resignedly. Maybe they could talk after the fight instead.
Travis smiled and pushed at his hat once more. It was so far back now that Severin couldn’t see how it still clung to his head.
“Then get the hell off my territory,” Travis said softly, taking another step forward. One more and he’d be in Severin’s face. To avoid that, Maggie placed herself squarely in Travis’s path. Travis raked her luscious body with his eyes and he grinned. “Though you can leave your whore, if you like.”
Maggie hit him. Or at least she tried to. Travis was too fast and managed to duck, laughing. Severin yanked her away. “Take that back, you piece of shit,” he said between his teeth.
“All right,” Travis said, straightening, a grin just dying on his careless lips. Only a malevolent flash in his blue eyes betrayed his intention. “All of you, including your whore, get off my territory.”
The growl of discontent among the vampires on both sides quieted for an instant as Severin and Travis glared at each other. No one gave the order in the end; no one needed to. In a single motion, Severin and Travis leapt into the air and crashed together. Over Travis’s shoulder as each tried to tear ritually at the other’s neck, Severin watched with a sort of resigned anxiety as the other vampires flew at one another.
Only as he and Travis fell back to earth, already disengaging for the more serious fight below, did he notice Maggie, in the midst of it, swinging her stake with a vicious accuracy that turned one of Travis’s followers to dust.
But Severin’s pride in her was short-lived. She staggered under the blow of a fist, and as she fell, a stake stabbed downward and Maggie exploded into nothing. Severin cried out in grief and fury. Kill the bastards!” he yelled. There could be no talking now. “Let the streets of New York run with blood!” For Maggie, his lover, who’d believed in Saloman.
After the bizarre weekend among the rich, famous, and influential, Elizabeth found that marking a couple of late essays on Monday morning was something of a wel
come relief.
Promising to stay in touch, Josh had dropped her off in St. Andrews with no more than a cousinly kiss on the cheek, and she was aware that only good manners had prevented him from ranting about the stolen sword for the entire journey. Abandoning his proposed holiday in Scotland, he was flying down to London today, no doubt to be nearer Senator Dante, whom, despite all evidence to the contrary, he still suspected of the theft.
Elizabeth had e-mailed Mihaela a request for information on the sword, together with a brief description of recent events and a stark announcement that Saloman was in Scotland in probable pursuit of it and of Josh. By now, the British hunters should be aware of Saloman’s presence in the UK, though she doubted they’d know any more than she did about his precise location.
Apart from that, she was making a determined effort to move on from the weekend. When the knock came at her office door, she expected one of her students and called, “Come in!” at once.
The figure who stepped over the threshold was a complete surprise.
“Senator.” She almost gasped, springing to her feet. Annoyingly, she felt like a schoolgirl whose formidable headmaster had just walked in the door.
Senator Dante smiled as he crossed the room to her, hand held out. “How are you, Elizabeth?” His handshake was as firm and warm as she remembered it. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything. I’m on my way back to London—decided to take a quick detour here for a round of golf. Can I talk you into a game?”
“Oh, no! No, thank you. I’m working.”
“Of course you are,” he said regretfully, looking around her untidy office with its scattering of books and papers and coffee cups on the tables, and the shelves of books that lined the walls. “Quaint,” he observed.
“Messy,” she corrected, and he laughed. “I’ve got time for a coffee, if you’d like one,” she offered.
“Oh, no, thank you. I’ll get one at the clubhouse after my game. I really just called in to say hello again. It was great meeting you at the weekend.”
“And you,” Elizabeth said politely. “Thanks for inviting me.”
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