by Michele Hauf
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “I couldn’t possibly know everything you do. But you’re wrong. I’ve trained knights far longer than you can comprehend.”
Yeah? So, how long was that? Decades? Centuries? She really wanted to know what the guy’s story was and whether or not he was paranormal. But another slap would not appeal to her stinging jaw.
“I’ve gotten inside your head, Lark. I’ve lived there while training you, and I remain in the recesses. I know how you function. And I know what it takes to break you down.”
“Then you must also know that Gunnar is working with pack Levallois.”
“Is that what the vampire has led you to believe? LaRoque has used persuasion on you.”
“No, I—”
This time she blocked his slap, and, standing there, her forearm fending back his hand, the two held a stare-down that would reduce any sane mortal to plead for forgiveness and then run for protection. Rook was a master of martial arts and could kill with but his hands. Quickly.
His skin was cold, always so cold. He couldn’t be completely mortal. But she’d never dared ask what it was that made him something more, so strong, and at times seemingly able to read her thoughts.
“I can see the truth in you, Lark.”
Yes, he’d said that to her many times before. That was the line that always made her wonder if there was something about Rook that allowed him to see a person’s truths, like a supernatural mind reader. Demonic?
So why couldn’t he comprehend the truth she’d confessed about Gunnar and Levallois?
“The vampire has controlled your mind.”
Domingos would never do that. He’d promised he would not. And she hadn’t felt the persuasion as she had from Vincent Lepore.
Lark straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. It was difficult not to wince at the pain in her thigh, but she did not want Rook to learn about that injury. That would mark her as a failure and she might then not leave this office alive. Good thing the other bite was on her breast, safely hidden from his inspection.
“You’re thinking about all the times you’ve been together, wondering how he did it,” he put out there. “Damn it! That vampire has ruined you.”
Never. But she wouldn’t protest. Instead she hoped Domingos was not at the moment thinking something crazy like that she had left him.
The office door opened and in walked a tall man with spiky brown hair and piercing eyes. Lark immediately lowered her head and studied the floor. The man requested that Rook join him out in the hallway.
“Stand right here. Do not move,” Rook instructed her, and left to go talk to King.
Lark would not move. Because he would know if she so much as inhaled incorrectly. Why King was in the building was beyond her. He rarely set foot in Order headquarters, choosing to remain an enigma. Knighting ceremonies were about the only occasion Lark knew he visited.
After two minutes, both men returned. Rook followed King, who approached her. Lark lifted her chin, trying to avoid eye contact with King, but also wanting to look at him because he was so fascinating to her. Who was he? How had he come to organize this group of mortals who stalked vampires? Had a vampire harmed his family? Had that been the catalyst? The Order was centuries old. He couldn’t be human if he was the actual man behind it all.
He gave her the chance she’d been hoping for. King stepped directly before her, and took his time gazing into her eyes. As handsome as Rook, the man had an angular face that held a chiseled beauty, possessed of a calm sternness. She noted the muscle in his jaw pulsed angrily.
Wooziness stirred with her brain. He was powerful. He was her leader. She had betrayed him.
“How are you this afternoon, Lark?”
“I’m...well.” Odd question. As if they knew each other and he was concerned about how she felt. Which she knew was not true. “And you?”
“I’m concerned. Rook has filled me in on your status.”
“If I could just—”
A tilt of the man’s head gave her pause. She had no idea his level of patience and whether or not he wielded the same lightning-swift reflexes as Rook, and had no desire to test him.
“The vampire LaRoque,” he said in a level, deep tone as he laid a palm on her shoulder, “persuaded you, Lark. Do you understand?”
She nodded. Perhaps he had. Persuasion was a vampire’s sneaky way of getting into a mortal’s mind and influencing the person’s thoughts. Had Domingos persuaded her compliance? Her love for him? Because really, a hunter falling in love with a vampire? What kind of crazy had she imbibed? The vampire was insane, and he must do what he could to survive—like tearing open her artery to get to the blood.
King tilted his head, his gaze not veering from hers. She trusted him. He would not steer her wrong. He was old and wise.
“You do understand,” he said decisively. “Good, then.”
With a curt nod, he turned, said something she couldn’t hear to Rook, then strode out of the office.
When the door closed, Rook filled the spot King had just stood in. This time he clutched her upper arms gently, reassuringly, with his cool hands. “You’re our best knight, Lark. I’ve got another assignment for you, but it hasn’t arrived at the warehouse yet. Wait in the chapel for me, will you?”
A private entrance to the chapel stood at the back of Rook’s office. With a nod, Lark dismissed herself and hustled into the chapel. When the door closed behind her, she released her held breath.
Her lover had used persuasion on her?
“That bastard.”
She fell to her knees upon the hard fieldstone floor, clutching for her breaking heart.
* * *
King waited for Rook outside his office door. Rook joined the man he’d known for what seemed like forever and they strolled down the hall toward the elevator. They took it down a floor, not speaking. The tension was thick, but it didn’t make him uncomfortable. Rook felt no need to speak until King prompted his thoughts.
The elevator doors opened to an underground private parking area. Once outside, King glanced toward the security camera and motioned Rook aside to stand in the blind spot near the concrete wall.
King was a thoughtful man and never spoke unless he had something to say. “After all the centuries I have devoted to the Order of the Stake, I will not allow a pack of werewolves to bring us down.”
“I believed her when she said Gunnar was working with Levallois,” Rook said. “She had no reason to lie about it.”
“That is incredible. But yes, I agree with your assessment of the female knight. She is trustworthy, despite her siding with LaRoque.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Gunnar is out.”
“Before midnight, I assure you.”
“And LaRoque gets the stake.” King added quickly, “But make sure it’s done by the right knight.”
“Of course. Also to be completed tonight. What about the pack?”
King’s jaw pulsed and he clasped his hands together before him for a moment’s thought. “You and I will have to dig out the silver bullets. It’s been a while since we’ve shared the hunt, eh?”
Rook slapped his hand into King’s, sealing the agreement. “I look forward to it. Let me deal with the immediate stuff first. I’ll ring you when it’s done.”
With a nod, King strode over to a waiting black BMW. The driver opened the back door. King had never learned to drive, nor had he expressed the desire to do so.
One of these days, Rook decided, he was going to take him out to a pasture and teach him the necessary driving skills every twenty-first-century man should know.
* * *
Lark waited in the chapel three hours before Rook poked his head in and, with a nod, gestured for her to follow him down the hallway to the elevator. They rode that down to the parking garage where a car waited. She was glad he was a man of few words; she didn’t want conversation with him, anyway.
She was conflicted about Domin
gos and hadn’t been able to stop arguing with herself while sitting in the chill calm of the chapel. But really? No, she was no longer conflicted. Clearly the vampire had persuaded her. How dare he?
And yet some inner niggling seemed to want to grasp that idea and rip it to shreds. But why would she believe such a thing if it wasn’t true?
The vampire had good reason to use persuasion on her. It had kept her from killing him, hadn’t it? And he’d gone so far as to have sex with her, many times. That was the part that didn’t jibe with her rationale. It made sense that he’d persuade her not to kill him, to think of him as an ally and try to get away from her. But why lure her into his bed?
Wouldn’t any man do the same if he had the supernatural skills of influencing women into his bed? Hell, that first night without protection. The thought sickened her.
Most men were not sexual predators or physically violent toward women. The vampire was a unique predatory breed that relied upon blood and sex to survive. And he’d bitten her.
Had he also persuaded her to believe he’d sealed the wound to prevent her transformation? Could the vampire taint be coursing through her veins as she sat here?
She eased her hand along her inner thigh, wincing at the pain that did not seem to lessen. It had been a deep bite. She had bled almost to the point of passing out. Of course it would take time to heal. Why hadn’t he persuaded her to forget he’d done that? To perhaps instead make her believe it was an injury she’d taken during a struggle with another vampire while on the hunt?
Domingos had been playing with her mind; she had no doubt about it.
“He bit me,” she blurted out to Rook. “I think you need to know that. I— If he used persuasion on me, then I’m not sure if he was telling the truth about not transforming me. I could change. Oh, God.”
“You’ll be fine,” Rook offered, his attention toward the front of the car, not even glancing at her.
How could he know that? Was it that weird innate truth meter she suspected he possessed that told him she hadn’t received the vampire taint?
Hell, now she was starting to lose it. She didn’t want to become a vampire. She had only wanted to represent the Order and serve them well. Live to serve. Serve until death. Die fighting. A simple motto to follow.
And what had happened to her desire to avenge her husband’s death? Paused at number seventy-two? That wasn’t her style. She never gave up on a challenge.
But somehow she’d decided to stop serving and to cease her quest for vengeance. Instead she had succumbed to the dangerous allure of a vampire.
You’re smarter than that, Lark. You love him.
She twisted her head toward the window and scrunched her eyes closed. No, it couldn’t be possible. She could never love a man who was like those who had killed Todd.
But they didn’t kill him, you did. You were the one to plunge the stake into your husband’s heart.
“We can forgive this transgression,” Rook said in the quiet of the backseat, seeming to sense that she needed reassurance. “You were manipulated. You have to understand that, Lark. You were under the vampire’s persuasion.”
She nodded, silently accepting.
Yet her heart screamed like those screeching violins in Domingos’s head that it was all wrong.
She didn’t know what was right anymore.
* * *
The Order owned a concrete-walled warehouse in the thirteenth arrondissement. No windows, and only one access door that led up strong iron stairs to an upper floor reinforced by double walls. Sounds made inside were never heard outside. No matter how loud the scream.
Lark followed Rook up the stairs, not questioning what this task was he had planned for her. It would be a trial, for sure, something to prove to him and the Order that she was still on their side and unworthy of banishment.
Hell, anything would be better than another day lying prostrate on a cold stone floor.
Her thigh pulled with each step. A reminder that her determination could be contaminated. Stupid mistake, that.
She moved her left shoulder, and the tugging brand seared into her skin reminded of her dedication a year earlier when she’d entered the Order. Focused and ready to learn. Blinded by grief and the desire for vengeance.
Use it now, a tiny voice whispered at her. Don’t make another wrong choice. You know your truths.
She couldn’t understand her conscience until the door opened and inside she heard the struggles of a man against two others. He was held with thick ropes wrapped about his chest and arms, while another man beamed a small UV light at his eyes.
Domingos yowled and fought against the ropes. The skin around his eyes smoked and burned.
Lark’s heart thundered. She took a step toward the knights, wanting to tear them away from the tortured vampire—and then Rook’s hand fell onto her shoulder and he said, “The job.”
Chapter 21
“Release him!” Rook called. “He’s not going anywhere now that you’ve blinded the pitiful creature. Come in, Lark.”
At the sound of her name, Lark noted that Domingos stopped struggling and lifted his head, tracking the thud of their footsteps across the concrete floor as they moved closer to him. The ropes dropped away from around his chest and arms and he stood, unbound, in the center of the room. The three knights stood close, but had assumed a militant pose, on guard, as Rook passed them and they stopped ten paces away from Domingos.
“He give you trouble?” Rook asked one of the knights.
“Wasn’t an easy bag. But we didn’t let him get up on the rooftops, like you warned us. He’ll be a good little leech now. Won’t you?” The knight kicked the back of Domingos’s knee, and he almost went down but managed to stay upright.
Lark assessed that he’d incurred no injuries during the struggle. Not on the outside, anyway. But he couldn’t see. Though his eyes were open, the pupils filled his irises and Lark knew he was blind for at least an hour. He looked pitiful, standing there alone, his shirt hanging on his shoulders and torn at the buttons, obviously during the struggle. Fangs cut over his lower lip and blood spattered his chin, likely his own.
What had she seen in this man that she’d allowed him to touch her, to kiss her, to make love to her?
She shivered, remembering the trace of his hands over her skin. So gentle and reverent. She’d seen into his soul. He’d granted Lisa freedom and she, in turn, had given him back his music. Had it all been a lie?
Apparently. What skills this creature possessed to have gotten into her brain to manipulate it so.
Rook produced a titanium stake, twirled it once and paced before Domingos. “I admire you, LaRoque. You certainly gave us good chase.”
“Did you tell him about the werewolves and Gunnar?” Domingos asked Lark.
“She did,” Rook answered smartly. “We’ll take care of the matter.”
That was the first time Rook had acknowledged that he’d taken Lark’s words to heart. Good. No matter what theatrics went down here in the warehouse, she had confidence Rook would see to Gunnar’s punishment and cease collusion with the werewolves. If she did any good for the Order today, it would be to expose a dirty knight.
“Fine day when the Order of the Stake colludes with werewolves,” Domingos teased.
One of the knights behind the vampire stepped forward, ready to punch Domingos in the kidneys from behind, but with a castigating look, Rook stopped him.
“No, he’s not for us, boys,” he said. Turning, Rook approached Lark. He slapped the stake into her palm. “This one’s your kill.”
* * *
Domingos’s heart stopped when he heard the leader’s chilling announcement. He’d left the Shangri-La the moment the clouds had moved over the sun. Waiting not a block south of the hotel had been the black van filled with knights. A little off already with his thoughts jumbled about Lark, he hadn’t been prepared for their strike, which had come swiftly and with four men and hadn’t given him much chance for escape.
Now he could not see. When he opened his eyes the world was painfully white and it felt as if the UV rays still seared his eyeballs. But he could hear. And the slap of the titanium stake into Lark’s hand cut through his dark and tortured heart and tore it wide-open.
She would not do it. Could not.
And yet she must. She was a knight. Slaying vampires was what she had been trained for. And if she did not wish to lose the respect of her superior and fellow knights, she mustn’t blink to follow orders.
He’d always known it would come to this.
Domingos had been right to guess that she’d left him this morning. For good. Had fled his madness and returned to the life she’d managed to fit herself into this past year. He didn’t think it was a good fit for her, slaying vampires and killing without thought, but he had no say in her life now. She’d escaped while getting out had been possible.
At least he could be thankful for the few days he’d had with her. To hold her and get to know her. To feel the touch of her soul brushing against his. To experience moments away from the madness and pain. It had been beyond exquisite. He could die peacefully now.
But he couldn’t imagine how difficult it must be for her. He wished he could look into her eyes and convey how much he loved her. She must know. He wanted her to know, despite her rejection of him.
Lark’s footsteps tracked the concrete floor until she stood before him. With his sight gone, his sense of smell increased. He smelled the luscious sweetness of her skin, underlaid with a hint of rice pudding and rum, and champagne. Sex tinted that perfume and he decided it was the best smell a man could know before he died.
And now he was thankful he would not be able to see the stake coming toward his heart, or the tortured look in his lover’s eyes. Twice now, she had been forced to stake the men she loved.
Or would she smile as the titanium stake pierced his heart?
“Bastard.” He heard the softly uttered word, and winced. So she did hate him. Unless...? Of course, she had to put on a facade before the Order. “You used me.”
