by Morgan Hawke
Rafael lifted his other arm while keeping hold of Yaroslav. A jagged wound marked his wrist. “My true age is not something I share with many.” He turned his head and licked the wound. The mark disappeared almost instantly. “Nor my blood.” He smiled.
Yaroslav turned his head to the side, wincing. “So much power….” He sighed and opened his eyes to look up at the vampire prince before him. “A single drop would have been sufficient.”
“And you had a full swallow.” Rafael tilted his head slightly, and his smile faded only a hair. “Can you forgive me, Prince of Kiev?”
Yaroslav raised his brow, and a sour smile curved his mouth. “It was not completely unexpected, Prince of Troy.”
Rafael winced. “Was I so obvious?”
Thorn started. Troy? Wasn’t that a place from an old fairy tale?
“You sent Master Antonius to my mountain to collect me.” Yaroslav chuckled softly. “If you were trying for subtlety, a battalion was not the way to do it.” He groaned and leaned forward, sliding off the…whatever it was Thorn rested on.
Rafael stepped back. “I was…concerned for you.”
Yaroslav stood before the vampire prince and folded his arms across his chest. “I am not quite so helpless as to need a battalion to come to my rescue.”
“So?” Rafael’s chin rose, and his smile disappeared utterly. “You were a shopkeeper, a clock maker in a small town on an isolated mountain, not the master of a defensible castle. You did not possess an army. You did not even possess stone walls about your home.”
Thorn could not believe what she was hearing. Yaroslav was a clock maker? Being a shopkeeper didn’t go with how she saw him at all. She simply couldn’t imagine him living anywhere but in a castle with servants.
Yaroslav bared his teeth. “I am an aged vampire and a sorcerer! Not a mere defenseless human! How could you have so little faith?”
“How could I not be concerned?” Rafael’s eyes narrowed, and a liquid growl rumbled. “Your mountain was the only one within a hundred-mile radius to be attacked by a plague that is magical in nature. Clearly someone wanted your life to end!”
What? Thorn would have gasped if she could have. Someone was trying to kill Yaroslav?
Rafael bared his teeth. “I would know who!”
Yaroslav jerked his head to the side, looking away.
Rafael snarled. “Do not look away from me!”
Yaroslav jerked as if struck. He turned his gaze back toward his prince, but his chin was down, and a growl rumbled. “Is this why you bound me by blood?”
Thorn had no clue what the hell “bound by blood” meant, but it didn’t sound good.
Rafael sighed, and all the anger drained from him. “You know something this heretic fears, or he would not attempt your assassination. I bound you to protect you.”
Yaroslav shook his head. “I know no more about this heretic than you, my prince.”
“Ah!” Rafael smiled and held up one long-nailed finger. “But you have more knowledge and experience with spell craft than anyone living.” He folded his arms across his bare chest. “If anyone can stop this plague, it is you.”
Yaroslav rubbed his jaw with a palm. “Then it is not this heretic we should fear.” He set his hands on his hips and stared straight at his prince. “But the one who told the heretic to fear me.”
“Agreed.” Rafael lifted his chin. “And who knows of your existence?”
Yaroslav frowned and then scowled. “You suspect someone on the senate?”
Rafael shrugged. “Does anyone else know you exist?”
Yaroslav shook his head. “None still among the living.”
“So….” Rafael turned and paced back and forth before Yaroslav. He frowned deeply. “It would be so convenient if it was Senator Belus, but he would never cooperate with a user of magic, certainly not a heretic. His hatred for magi would not allow for it.”
“Still?” Yaroslav smiled. “One would think he would have accepted his curse by now.”
“Certainly.” Rafael snorted and continued his pacing. “If he had not earned his curse so richly.”
Yaroslav shook his head. “He should not have meddled in the affairs of wizards.”
Rafael snorted. “That did not stop him from using the Dominicans’ Inquisition to hunt as many of them as he could.”
“Such a childish temper.” Yaroslav leaned back against Thorn’s resting place. “So now I am bound and bait in your trap?”
Rafael stopped still. “You are bound to preserve your life. It is I who am bait. To get to you, they must first go through me.”
“Conspiracy and intrigue…” Yaroslav straightened and combed his fingers through his long black hair. “And you wonder why I choose to make clocks?”
Rafael smiled tiredly. “I am beginning to suspect that the making of clocks might be a wiser occupation for myself as well.”
Yaroslav wiped his hands down his trousers. “So….”
Rafael nodded. “So.”
Yaroslav shook his head. “I had best work, my prince.”
Rafael nodded toward Thorn. “Perhaps you should begin by deepening the slumber of your little she-wolf?”
“Ah?” Yaroslav turned sharply to look at Thorn. The hearts of his eyes blazed gold as a flame. “So stubborn.” He raised his palm and held it over her eyes. “Sleep, Thorn.”
Weighted darkness pressed down on Thorn. No! She wanted to know what had just happened and what was really going on. She wanted to know who Rafael really was…!
“All in due time, Thorn; sleep deeply until my call.”
She fought against it. No, damnit!
“Yes.”
Black waves edged with scarlet lightning crashed down on Thorn’s mind and washed her away.
“Thorn.”
Thorn jolted hard, and her eyes snapped open. She gasped a deep breath, with her heart slamming in her chest. She was awake. Completely awake and lying on a carpeted floor. She stared at the arching white ceiling, painted to look like a sky with clouds. What the…?
Somewhere close by, a clock ticked. Fabric whispered. Someone was there.
Startled, Thorn rolled forward in a swift, smooth movement that carried her from lying on her back to a sitting position and then all the way up to stand on her…four paws in the center of a rich Indian carpet. Thorn’s fanged wolf jaw opened in complete surprise. She’d transformed into her wolf state so smoothly she’d barely felt it. She held perfectly still, almost afraid to move. She should not have been able to change that quickly.
Shimmering color caught her attention, and she looked about sharply. She was in an oval bedroom fit for a prince. The curving walls were covered in shimmering gold cream silk. At the far end of the room was a huge bed canopied in cut velvet of gold and midnight blue. On the left, matching drapes masked a row of floor-to-ceiling windows. To the right was a pair of doors, and between them a small French Baroque table holding a small pendulum clock.
Her gaze was caught by the brilliant hues of the blue and gold floral carpet under her paws. She reached out and watched her paw extend into a human hand. A slight shiver raced through her, and her entire body returned to human form with uncanny swiftness.
She sat back on her heels and stared at her hands and then stroked her bare thighs. She was completely human. She’d never changed so fast or so easily in her life. She was also completely naked.
“Thorn?”
Startled, she twisted about so fast she fell back on her butt. She winced. That was graceful….
Yaroslav was dressed casually in a long black velvet dressing robe with his long black hair pulled back into a snug tail. He sat before a plain, unfinished table pushed up against the wall and scattered with hand tools and small mechanical bits. The scent of fine-grade machine oil was in the air. His brows lifted. “How do you feel?”
“I, ah…” She frowned. How did she feel? “I feel fine.” Her frown deepened. She felt unusually fine, considering she’d just changed twice in a matter
of minutes. Normally, changing that fast, and that close together, would have had her flat on her back with her head spinning from exhaustion. She hadn’t even broken a sweat.
Yaroslav nodded and smiled. “That is good.”
“But…” Thorn bit down on her bottom lip, puzzled, “I shouldn’t feel like this. Not after changing like that.”
Yaroslav turned back to his table. “You will become accustomed in time.”
“Accustomed to what?” Thorn rose to her bare feet and padded toward him. “Did you do something?”
“I did.” A miniature gold pocket watch lay in pieces on the table before Yaroslav. He lifted a delicate gear and peered at it. “I remade you.”
“Remade…?” The things Thorn had heard, and overheard, ticked into place. She scowled. “That sneaky bastard fed me that water so I couldn’t resist, and then you knocked me out and went and did…whatever it was you said you were going to do to me.”
“Yes.” Yaroslav lifted a delicate instrument and set the gear within the open pocket watch. “I redesigned your aspect, erasing all trace of your Doctor.”
Thorn blinked. He hadn’t even tried to dodge the issue. “What happened to discussing it after breakfast?” She leaned close to watch him work.
Yaroslav lifted yet another tiny gear. “Prince Rafael felt confident that you would eventually agree. However, time was of the essence.” He set the gear within and lifted a tiny screwdriver. “He was correct. If we had spent even one hour in discussion, I would not have finished in time.” He applied the tiny tool with incredible delicacy.
Thorn watched with interest. He really was a clock maker. “In time for what?”
Yaroslav set the screwdriver to one side and lifted a delicately painted watch face. “The dressers will be here with our attire in one hour.” He set the face over the open gears.
“Attire?” She frowned. “But I already have clothes.”
“You cannot appear before the senate in…” he curled his lip, “dungarees.”
Thorn stilled. “The senate?”
Yaroslav turned on his stool and waved his hand at the door farthest away. “The bath is in there.” He turned back to the table. “Use care, as the furnace keeps the water quite hot.”
“Indoor plumbing?” Thorn clutched Yaroslav’s sleeve. “For real?”
Yaroslav smiled. “Prince Rafael is very fond of his…comforts.”
“Hot damn!” Thorn strode for the other door with determination. “I’m taking a bath!”
Behind her, Yaroslav chuckled.
20
Thorn settled into the huge paw-footed oval tub and leaned back against the smooth white porcelain. The steaming water with its generous froth of bubbles covered her to the chin. Sunbeams poured through the frosted glass windows high on the wall to her immediate right, giving the bubbles rainbow hues.
Thorn frowned at the late afternoon light. They had arrived first thing in the morning. Apparently whatever it was that Yaroslav had done had taken nearly all day to do. Not that she’d had much choice in the matter. She sighed and sank deeper into the hot water. Okay, so she would have agreed, but still, it would have been nice to actually give her consent, rather than have it assumed by the prince. The sneaky bastard….
But he sure did live well.
It had been ages since she’d had a hot bath, and never so quickly. Her last decent bath had been in a copper hip tub in her cramped cabin on the ship. This claw-footed tub had two spigots, one for hot water and one for cold, and had filled at an unheard-of speed with water so hot it actually steamed. The pedestal sink occupying the far wall directly in front of the tub also had spigots for both hot and cold. A pull-chain flushing toilet stood beside it. Pure luxury.
Thorn moved to the center of the tub and then leaned back to submerge her head. She came up wiping suds from her cheeks with water spilling down her long hair.
She looked to her right at the low, narrow shelf attached the wall and then leaned to reach beyond the fluffy towels. She grabbed the square, dark amber glass bottle and pulled out the fat cork. Earlier investigation while the tub filled had proved that the bottle held a thick, creamy liquid soap surprisingly light in scent. It made wonderful bubbles, too.
She poured a generous amount into her hand and set the bottle back on the shelf. She closed her eyes and proceeded to work the soap into her long hair. She couldn’t imagine being able to bathe like this anytime she wanted to. It was…paradise.
The door opened and then closed.
Unwilling to open her eyes with soap dripping down her cheeks, Thorn sniffed to see if she could smell who was there. She couldn’t smell a thing beyond the soap.
“Ah, a lovely water nymph.” Yaroslav’s distinctive voice held humor.
Thorn released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and went back to scrubbing soap into her hair. “I’m not done yet.”
“Oh, I know.” The sound of Yaroslav’s bare feet padded close. “I have come to assist you.” Fabric rustled.
Thorn frowned. “I know how to bathe myself.”
“Of course you do.” A double splash and the sudden rise of the water in the tub announced that Yaroslav had stepped in right behind her.
Thorn started. “What are you doing?”
“I should think that would be obvious.” There was a larger splash, and then his long legs slid along the outside of hers. “Mmm…you run a good bath.” He settled behind her. “Very nice.” His fingers slid into her soapy hair to massage her scalp. “Allow me.” Delicious shivers followed the path of his fingers.
Thorn rocked under the pressure of his working fingers. The sides of the tub were too far away to grab for stability, so she was forced to hold on to his knees underwater. “I can wash my own hair, damnit.” She wanted to lean away, but his fingers felt so good. Her groan of pleasure escaped quite by accident.
“Of course you can.” Yaroslav chuckled. “However, I will need assistance with mine.”
“Oh?” Well, if he needed help, that was different. Thorn relaxed into his fingers. It was only fair that he did hers, too. “Okay.”
Yaroslav removed his fingers and leaned to the right, clearly reaching for something on the shelf. “Tilt your head back so I may rinse out the soap.”
She did so, and a cascade of bathwater spilled down her head.
“Hold still.” Another deluge, and then a nubby cloth was pressed over her eyes. “Very good.”
Thorn reached up to take the cloth and patted the water from her eyes. “Okay….” She leaned forward to get up.
He cupped her breasts under the foamy water. “And where are you going?” His finger closed on her nipples in a light pinch.
Thorn’s belly clenched with awakening interest. She sucked in a small breath. “I thought I was going to wash your hair?”
Yaroslav pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. “Not quite yet.” His hot, wet tongue stroked the side of her throat.
Shivers spilled through Thorn. She didn’t even try to hold back her breathy moan.
He released her breasts and set his palms under her thighs. His breath brushed against her throat. “Lift for me.”
Thorn lifted her knees, allowing Yaroslav to slide his legs under hers. “Yaroslav?”
Yaroslav caught her under the thighs and lifted her up to straddle his lap. “Yes?” He pulled her back into the cradle of his hips. The hard length of his very erect cock pressed against her spine. He leaned to the side and selected a small green glass bottle from the shelf. He pulled the cork, set it on the shelf, then turned back with the bottle in his hand.
Thorn swallowed. “You want to have sex in the tub?”
Yaroslav shoved her hair over her shoulder with his free hand. “No, I want to…make love, I believe is the saying, in the tub.” He tipped the bottle, and a thick liquid with the distinctive scent of olive oil spilled onto his palm.
Sex; make love… Thorn rolled her eyes. “Same thing….”
“No.” He set the bott
le on the shelf and then kissed the back of her neck, sending shivers up the back of her skull. “It is not.” He rubbed his palms together. “Sex is of the body; love is of the heart.” He dunked his hands underwater. He pulled one hand back and slid it between them to caress his shaft. His other hand cupped and then delved into her feminine flesh.
Thorn jolted with the unexpected contact. His fingers moved on her, caressing and exploring her lightly. Too lightly. She groaned and leaned forward, pressing against his palm. The sudsy water sloshed slightly. She could barely think past the pleasure coiling hungrily in her belly. “Anything you say.”
“Excellent.” He thrust a long, oiled finger into her core and caressed her deep within. “Then you will accept my love?”
Thorn shifted her hips, grinding on his hand while rubbing against his rigid cock at the same time. God, he was good. She groaned. “Anytime you feel like giving it.”
He sighed, and his thumb pressed between her plump lips to brush lightly against the nub of her clit. “So?”
A bolt of raw lust speared through Thorn to throb low and hard in her belly. She moaned and tilted forward, balancing with her hands on his knees while arching back in an unashamed invitation for him to take her.
His breath quickened against her neck, and his hand slid up to her belly, his fingers spreading wide to hold her. He pressed forward, deliberately sliding his cock between the cheeks of her butt. His lips brushed her ear. “Then, will you give me your love?”
Thorn trembled, and a chill slid through her. Her heart thumped. “My love?”
“You have mine; I would have yours.” His long teeth grazed the side of her throat. “It is only fair, is it not?”
Thorn shivered, and her heart sped up, thumping hard and fast in her chest. He wanted her to love him?
“Yes….” He nipped at her throat. “That is exactly what I want.”
Thorn shook her head and pulled away. She wasn’t ready to think about love.
