I stared at her, frowning, silent for a few seconds. “Is Hallow controlling me now? I don’t feel anything different. I’ve been aware of everything since I woke up a little while ago. Is he just taking a break from making me do inappropriate things?”
She shrugged. “Devereux and the others worked all night to remove as much of Hallow’s influence as possible. Your protection necklace has been strengthened and enhanced. As before, you won’t be able to remove it. It should be harder for Hallow to enter your mind while you’re awake. Unfortunately, I doubt if anyone could restrict him from your dreams. He seems to be a force unlike any other. But, for now, you’re mostly back to being the Kismet you’re familiar with.”
Suddenly anxious, I chewed on my bottom lip. “But why would I want to drink Devereux’s blood? In my right mind, I’d never do such a thing. Maybe that’s the problem. Perhaps Hallow is driving me mad. What if I reach a point where there’s no going back?”
Since neither of us had an answer to that question, we just stared at each other.
A commotion near the entrance drew my attention. Ankh, the cadaverous door vamp, held a struggling Tom aloft by the back of his shirt. “He was trying to crawl out the storage room window. I thought I’d check with you before I disposed of him.”
“Thank you, Ankh.” I laughed. “You can just leave him here.”
“Yes, indeed.” A velvet voice floated through the air a second before a golden-robe-clad Devereux manifested at the foot of my bed. “He wanted my attention. He now has it.”
Chapter Fourteen
Ankh lowered Tom slowly to his feet, then bowed to Devereux. “Will there be anything else, Master?”
Devereux smiled at the tall vampire. “No thank you, Ankh. You may return to your post.”
With a tiny pop sound, Ankh vanished.
Ignoring Tom, Devereux nodded at Victoria, gliding over to sit beside me on the bed. He gazed into my eyes a few seconds before speaking. “I am glad you are awake. How are you feeling?”
I blinked a couple of times, waiting for his gaze to trigger the familiar fuzzy sensation in my brain, but it didn’t come. I still felt normal—whatever that was. “I feel fine.”
He smiled. “I am not attempting to alter your consciousness. I was merely scanning to see if your thoughts are still encumbered.” He nodded and reached out to stroke his hand along my cheek. “Your mind remains obstructed, but I am certain I will find a way to clear away the impediments.”
His calm confidence had returned. I wondered how he’d take the news that Hallow had, indeed, gotten through his spells and enchantments. I wasn’t looking forward to that inevitable conversation, so I kept the topic out of my mind as much as possible.
My gaze fell to his ornate golden robe and I grinned.
Devereux usually dressed in high-fashion contemporary clothes. Or his bare skin. I hadn’t ever seen him decked out in such wizardry or Grand Poobah-type raiment. There were no moons or stars on the fabric, but the neckline boasted enough gemstones to finance a small country. He was as gorgeous as ever, but it was certainly a different look for him.
Did he really sleep in such a fussy getup?
He matched my grin. “My robe amuses you?”
I opened my mouth to answer and was distracted by an intrusive, repetitive sound. We all turned toward the noise. Tom had crossed his arms over his chest and was impatiently tapping his foot against the marble tile floor. “I thought you said I had your attention. It would be common courtesy for you to speak with me for a few moments. I have a serious issue to discuss.”
Devereux lifted my hand and kissed the palm. “Excuse me, my love. I must attend to an annoying detail.”
So fast my eyes registered only a blur, Devereux grabbed Tom by the front of his shirt, hefted the shocked man into the air, and locked eyes with him. Tom collapsed into a Dr. Sex rag doll. Devereux growled, his voice low. “You forget yourself, Dr. Radcliffe. You are in my world now and you have no power here. You have been allowed to remain only because you are Kismet’s friend.”
Devereux closed his eyes for a few seconds and Zoë appeared next to him. He acknowledged her arrival and refocused on Tom, speaking very slowly, anger dripping from his words. “Doctor, I have a low tolerance for nonsense, and you are fast becoming a nuisance. My staff tells me you have been frequenting my club every night, asking questions and causing difficulties. Zoë has been ordered to inform you that I no longer transform humans and, even if I did, your ridiculous reason for wanting to join the ranks of the undead would not sway me to your cause. I have also forbidden her from attempting to bring you over herself.”
I was stunned by the rage in Devereux’s voice. I’d completely missed his animosity toward Tom. I wondered what else I’d been oblivious to over the past couple of days. What the hell had happened?
Not sure what I intended to do, but compelled to do something, I leapt out of bed and hurried over to Devereux. I pressed my body against him and slid my arms around his waist, hugging him from behind. I caught Zoë’s frightened eyes. “Devereux, please. Let him go. Don’t hurt him. He’s behaving badly because he’s afraid for his future. He’s not thinking clearly. Please. I’m sure he’ll apologize for whatever he did to upset you.”
We all stood, frozen in our weird tableau for what seemed like eons, but it was really only seconds, then Devereux patted my arm. Releasing the breath I’d been holding, I felt my contracted muscles relax. I surrendered my grip on his midsection and stepped sideways. He lowered the boneless Tom to the floor. His enticing voice whispered, “Sleep,” and Tom closed his eyes, pulled his knees up to his chest like a baby, and followed the instruction.
Devereux turned to Zoë, a sharp edge to his voice. “Take him to Kismet’s townhouse and do not let him out of your sight. I am willing to be tolerant this time, but do not try my patience. He is not to visit my club or show himself in any way. Is that clear?” Zoë nodded, her lips pressed tightly together, her pale skin even whiter than usual. “Do you understand the danger to Dr. Radcliffe if you continue your attempt to transform him? You will not succeed. He will simply die.” She stared at the floor, her shoulders slumped. “Go now.”
Zoë slanted a quick and grateful glance at me, gave a slight nod, then bent to lift Tom into her arms. She mouthed “thank you” before they vanished.
I stepped in front of Devereux. “Are you going to tell me what that was about? And why you told Zoë to take Tom to my house?” I’d never seen him behave so aggressively. Maybe I wasn’t the only one splintering under the heightened stress.
Devereux shifted his gaze to Victoria, who’d waited silently during the impromptu drama. “Victoria, please make sure everything Kismet requires is brought to my penthouse. I will leave all the details in your capable hands.”
Victoria rose, smiled at me, then exited the room.
I poked Devereux in the chest with one finger. “Have I suddenly become invisible, or are you just ignoring me?”
“Come.” He grabbed my hand and tugged me over to the bed, where we both sat. “I am happy to tell you anything you wish to know.” He paused before speaking again. “Your friend has overstepped his bounds and I had to take action—for his sake as much as anyone else’s. I regret that you were distressed by our … disagreement. I had Zoë take Tom to your townhouse because it is a safe haven for him. He will sleep for hours. And, regarding my penthouse, I hope you now see the benefit of living there temporarily. Even though I can cast protective spells at your townhouse again, it is easier for me to take you to a fortified space. You will be even safer there.”
I wasn’t going to argue with him about stashing me away in his building. I didn’t remember large portions of my recent past, and accepting his plan just seemed prudent for everyone. After my discussion with Victoria, it was probable that Devereux was the only one who thought I’d be safe anywhere.
“It is good to have you back. I have missed you.” He lifted me onto his lap, smiling. I felt his warm breath on my
face as he enveloped me in his arms and kissed my cheek with his soft lips.
I knew what he meant, but being curious about my other personality, I decided to fish for more information. “What do you mean? I never left. I was here all the time.”
He raised an eyebrow, apparently aware of my tactic. “Why not simply ask what you wish to know?”
I enjoyed studying his face for a few seconds, then brushed aside a few long, blond strands of his silky hair, tucking them behind one of his perfectly shaped ears. “Just tell me if I did anything to embarrass myself or anyone else in any way. Victoria said I was uninhibited. I suspect that’s an understatement. How bad was I?”
“You were not bad at all. Merely not yourself. Or, at least, not the self you normally show the world. You were very influenced by the one who tainted you. He has little regard for others. He is often crude and sadistic—a sexual predator—and you exhibited mild aspects of his tendencies. But, according to my staff, you behaved as if you were youthfully intoxicated. Nothing more.”
“That’s what Victoria said, too.” I blew out the breath I’d been holding, ridiculously relieved. “It’s very upsetting to lose chunks of memory. I feel as if I’ve crashed, and my personal black box is still missing.”
“I do not understand.” He tilted his head, and frowned. “Your personal black box? Did you misplace a black box?”
“I’m sorry.” I chuckled. “That’s an airplane reference. Since you have no need for conventional transport, you’ve probably never heard about the recording devices used on aircraft. Nevermind. It’s not important. Just a metaphor.” I kissed his chin. “So, what’s the plan? We’re going to your penthouse, right? I have clients tomorrow morning.”
He grinned, his beautiful eyes twinkling. “What is the rush?” He lifted me off his lap and tossed me onto the center of the bed. In a heartbeat, I was pinned under his body. I opened my mouth to complain about his weight, and got a mouthful of hair. I sputtered, pushing at the strands with my tongue, all the while listening to him laugh. As quickly as the sweet-smelling mane had covered my face, it was gone again. He executed a masterful flick of his head, which managed to fling his platinum veil behind him.
“Hey, are you trying to suffocate me?”
He braced his arms and feet to lift his body, lessening the pressure on my chest. “I am sorry, my love.” His velvet voice still held traces of his laughter. “That was not very romantic, was it? In the future, I will remember to tie my hair back before jumping on you.”
I inhaled the delicious scent of his skin and sighed in satisfaction. “I guess I’ll forgive you this time.” I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulled his body against mine, and tenderly kissed his warm lips.
He deepened the kiss and moaned softly.
We explored each other’s mouths, tongues joyfully caressing, as we reignited the romantic flame between us. As much as I craved Devereux sexually, I was blissfully content to press my lips to his and revel in the feel of him. For the moment, all I needed was the closeness. The touching.
Finally coming up for air, he rolled onto his side, and balanced his head on his palm, watching me, his face serious. “Kissing you is always as amazing as the first time. You cannot know how incredible it feels for me to share your life force. To lose myself in you. It is as if you were created especially for me. I am very grateful that the ritual restored you to me.”
“Well, I don’t know where I was, but I’m glad to be back, too.” I trailed a finger along his lower lip. “You certainly know how to raise my heart rate.” I laughed. “I never could resist a guy in a sparkly dress.”
He smiled. “That is the second time you have mentioned my robe. Why does it make you laugh? I wear it merely for convenience.”
Visions of a rhinestone-studded Liberace swept into my mind. My parents had taken me through the museum in Las Vegas dedicated to the flashy pianist when I was a child. I never forgot the outrageous capes and robes displayed there. I wondered if he and Devereux had the same tailor.
I toyed with the gemstones circling Devereux’s neckline, still smiling. “I guess it’s because I’m used to your tight leather, and the robe makes you look like a monk in drag.”
“Is that a bad thing?” He frowned. “What is a monkin-drag? What language is that? I am fluent in many of them, but I am not familiar with that word.”
I hooted out a laugh. Sometimes his lack of knowledge about contemporary slang created comical situations. “It’s English. Three words, not one. Monk. In. Drag.”
He appeared completely confused. “Drag? What is drag?”
“It’s just a joke. Being in drag means dressing flamboyantly like the opposite sex.”
His lips pressed into a tight line, and he raised his chin. “Are you saying my very expensive, custom-designed robe makes me look like a woman?” One eyebrow arched. He lifted the hem of the robe, gathering the fabric in his hand until it exposed his lower body. He nodded at the thick erection straining upward. “Is this the body of a woman?”
I could have soothed his indignation and doused the fire with some calming words, but the expression on his face was so perfectly outraged. So theatrically appalled. The lord and master had been insulted. I couldn’t stop smiling. I shook my head. “No. That is definitely not the body of a woman. But the fancy robe makes you look like you’re acting out the drag queen role in the vampire version of The Birdcage.”
I really didn’t want to upset him, but he had asked me why I kept smiling at his robe. If we couldn’t be honest with each other, what did that say about the longevity of our relationship? A sense of humor was crucial. Although, apparently, I could’ve been more tactful.
“What? Drag queen? Birdcage? I do not understand. No one has ever expressed such an opinion about my attire.”
I didn’t think his chin could lift any higher and still be attached to his neck. He flung the bottom of the robe down, covering himself. His eyebrows shot up. He was obviously waiting for me to apologize. Or grovel. Instead, I opted for logic.
Reaching out, I stroked my hand down his arm. “Devereux. We have to be truthful with each other. You said you want a twenty-first-century relationship with me. That means we communicate. We have differences of opinion. We can tease each other in a loving way.” He lowered his chin just enough to acknowledge he was considering what I said. “My comments about your robe were not meant to be insulting. I was being playful. You have to admit all that sparkly gold with the gemstones is rather … unusual. It just took me by surprise.” I thought a little flattery wouldn’t hurt. “I love your body in all that sophisticated leather. It’s so … you.”
He stared at me, his eyes narrowing. “Are you attempting to sweetly manipulate me, my love?”
“Maybe.” I leaned in and kissed his lips. “Is it working?”
He flashed a brilliant smile. “It would appear so. I understand what you mean about communication. So, in the spirit of compromise, I am willing to overlook your amusement about my wardrobe—in fact, I will wear other robes that are even more majestic—and you can acclimate. And, to be fair, I promise to be nude as often as possible. I would not want my gender to be in question for you in any way.”
I slid my hand over the bulge under the gold fabric and batted my eyelashes. “You know you’re all male. You’ve definitely got the alpha thing down. After all, you’re the big cheese vampire.”
“That is true.” He nodded, smiling. “And I can assure you that you have only just begun to understand how my alpha thing can benefit you.” He peeled one of the spaghetti straps of my red satin nightgown down my shoulder with the tip of a finger.
The touch sent a pleasant shiver down my arm. “Oh, yes. I like the way your mind works.” I was glad his good humor had returned.
Effortlessly, he stood, pulled the robe over his head, and tossed it on the floor next to the bed. He caught my eyes, noticed I was enjoying a slow scan of the lean muscles of his pale frame, and waited for a few seconds to allow me to complete the
review. His platinum hair tumbled over his shoulders and down his chest, creating a shining veil of silk. Some men looked silly with long hair, but Devereux’s suited him perfectly. He always managed to look like the “after” photo in a shampoo commercial. He did have a vast array of soaps, shampoos, and gels in his bathroom—and they were clearly responsible for a portion of his excellent hygiene—but I’d become convinced the perfect state of his body and his wonderful aroma were by-products of his mystical transformation from mortal to undead. He’d told me once that his aroma was another vampire enticement—that humans were attracted to his fragrance and unable to keep themselves from responding. I could personally vouch for that.
He went down on his knees next to me, flicked a couple of fingers at the levitating candles, and extinguished a few, creating even softer light and deeper shadows. My attention was drawn to a drop of moisture glistening on the head of his erection.
As if drawn by a magnet, my finger slid over that pearl-drop and massaged the liquid into the surrounding skin, as I gazed up into his eyes. He groaned.
I rose to my knees facing him, lifted the gown over my head, and tossed it next to the Liberace costume on the floor. The protective pentagram necklace lay between my breasts.
We leaned toward each other, our lips meeting. The kiss started out sweet, then became more intense with every passing second, as our mouths moved together, our tongues caressing and thrusting. We embraced, pressing our bodies tightly against one another, both of us moaning. The feeling of his thickness pulsing against me was making me crazy with need, so I pulled Devereux to me as I let myself fall backward into the fluffy duvet. Still feasting at his mouth, I immediately wrapped my legs around his hips and ground myself into him.
He broke the kiss, licked my lower lip with his warm tongue, and gazed into my eyes. “The last time we were in bed together, we had sex. It was wonderful, if enthusiastic. But this time I wish to make love. Slowly. Deeply.” He’d whispered the last two words, the timbre of his voice caressing my ears.
Dark Harvest Page 18
