by Nina Bangs
Donna glanced at her notes. She was ready for Brynn. She’d finished her opening comments about the castle and was waiting for the station break to be over. Ken and Franco had everything running smoothly. They’d set her up in front of the castle bookstore. A small crowd had gathered, but they were all friendly and human. No glowing eyes that she could see.
A quick scan told her Eric wasn’t in the crowd. He’d promised to talk to her before the show, but he’d probably forgotten. Hey, that was fine with her. She’d not only done Lola’s homework but had thrown in a little extra credit as well. She didn’t know if she could face him without cringing.
Okay, show time. Someone sat down in the seat next to her, and assuming it was Brynn, she didn’t glance over before launching into her intro. “I’m really excited about our first guest. He’s one of the three brothers who run the Castle of Dark Dreams. He plays . . .”
Uh-oh. Her senses were signaling that the person beside her was hot, hot, hot, and was not Brynn. They were pretty sure it was Eric. She recognized his scent of dark excitement and sinful purposes. A quick peek verified that the yummy heat spreading from where his bare arm touched hers was indeed Eric’s. She could hear the ocean in her head, a sure sign of impending panic.
Rats. Donna turned to meet his intense stare. She mouthed, “Where’s Brynn?”
Instead of mouthing his answer back, he leaned close to her ear. “He couldn’t come. I’m it, talk-show lady.” His warm breath fanned the side of her neck, refreshing memories of last night and her duty to Sweetie Pie and Jessica. She wondered if banging her head on the table a few times would jog her brain back into place.
Talk. She had to say something before her listeners got suspicious. “He plays Eric the Evil, the castle’s resident bad guy. Eric McNair has agreed to give us an inside look at the Castle of Dark Dreams. How about telling us something about the characters you play, Eric?” Please don’t destroy my show.
“I play a vampire most of the time.” His tight smile said she wouldn’t get anything else out of him without a few instruments of torture.
Twenty minutes later Donna was growing desperate, and the instruments of torture were looking like viable options. Eric the Jerk refused to elaborate on anything. One-word answers did not a talk show make. Throwing caution to the wind, she abandoned the questions on her notes. “I’ve never met a vampire, but if I did, what do you think he’d have to say to all the listeners out there?” Let him answer that in one word.
For just a moment emotion flooded his gaze. Well, that was a first. He’d spent the whole interview up till now staring at her with those cold beautiful eyes.
“What do I think he’d say?” Eric looked like he was actually thinking about a meaningful answer.
Be still my heart. If she was lucky, she might even get a whole paragraph out of him.
“I’m not a vampire, so I really don’t have a clue what the real deal would say. But common sense says the vampire life, or maybe death, wouldn’t be all midnight orgies and blood cocktails.” His smile was tight and mirthless. “Everyone thinks vampires have it all—sex, power, and infinity to build a lights-out stock portfolio. Nothing much would matter, though, if someone took your head. And hunters are using technology to help them now. Progress isn’t vampire-friendly. So you’d keep everyone at a distance because who’re you going to trust?” He shrugged. “What good would the power or the stock portfolio be when you’d had, done, and seen it all, but didn’t have anyone to share it with?”
She blinked at him. “Wow. That was really insightful.” Where had that come from? Sounded pretty personal to her.
Eric looked as though he was thinking the same thing. She watched the coldness return to his eyes. Maybe she should get to the calls before he bolted. She was just about to take her first caller when someone in the audience spoke.
“What do you think a vampire should do if a member of another clan destroys his brother?” The man’s voice was low, compelling, and completely scary.
Eric stilled. A stillness so complete Donna could almost believe he wasn’t breathing. He looked into the audience and Donna followed his gaze.
All this stillness translated to dead air. She needed to fill the silence, but she couldn’t get her lips to work. The audience shifted away from the speaker, and Donna got her first look at him. Lethal was the first word that came to mind. She didn’t have time for a leisurely analysis, but he was tall, strong-looking, and not smiling. Come to think of it, no one was smiling. Ken and Franco were definitely not smiling. Ken was making frantic motions for her to start talking.
“Sorry. I have to leave.” Without another word, Eric rose and moved away from the table. His gaze never wavered from the man who’d asked the question.
Fine, so her night was shot. She’d had bad nights before, but she’d kept on talking. She’d always been able to talk. Donna refused to watch where Eric went, and when she glanced up, the other man had disappeared.
As she swept her gaze across the audience, a hand waving madly in the back caught her attention. She paused to acknowledge the question, and then heaved a huge mental sigh as Sparkle Stardust stood. Donna’s gut told her that whatever Sparkle had to say would not improve her night.
“Legend says that vampires are incredibly sensual and make awesome lovers. That’s because their sexual equipment is, well, so there, and they’ve had centuries to practice. What do you think, sister?” Looking smugly satisfied with the uneasy stir around her, Sparkle sat down.
Okay, now would be a good time for a station break. She glanced over at Ken. Guess it wasn’t going to happen, because Ken was busy staring open-mouthed at Sparkle. As well he should. If vampire equipment was so there, then Sparkle’s little black dress was so not there. If she bent over, anyone in front or back of her could go home knowing they’d experienced a Sparkle happening. Adult entertainment at its best.
She’d better say something. This was why the station paid her the big bucks. “I think that, just like humans, vampire sexual performance would be an individual thing.” She’d dated some guys who’d need a thousand years to rate an awesome.
The rest of the night passed in a blur. Like most of her guests, Phil spoke with her by phone. A reliable if uninspired guest, he was just as delightfully close-minded as ever, spouting scientific speculation about what apparitions were, and rejecting the idea that they could possibly be interacting with humans.
She told him about Lola with unashamed glee and then opened the lines so her listeners could heap their ghost stories on his pompous head. And throughout it all, she refused to think about Eric. It was only as she wearily left the table that she realized no one had called about the pod. Strange.
She’d already decided to hit the restaurant for something to eat before heading up to her room when she changed her mind. Luckily, the restaurant stayed open until five. So if she moved fast, she could find Eric, vent about what he’d done tonight, and still have time to grab a sandwich. By tomorrow she would’ve calmed down, and she wanted to hit him with the full force of her anger. She also wanted to know why Brynn hadn’t showed.
Glancing around, the only person she saw was the bookstore owner. She’d kept her bookstore open during Donna’s show and it’d paid off. A lot of people had drifted in to browse and had come out with a bag of books.
“Hi. Do you know where Eric’s room is?”
The woman paused from her locking up and smiled at Donna. “Take the elevator or stairs down to the dungeon. His room is right next to it.”
“Thanks.” What a weird place to live. She didn’t remember seeing any windows from the outside. But at least it wasn’t underground. Ken had told her that the main part of the castle was built above ground level because of hurricanes. So the dungeon actually was at ground level.
Busy thinking about how she’d verbally slice and dice him, Donna stepped into the elevator, punched the button for the dungeon, and watched the doors slide shut. It took exactly three heartbeats for her to r
ealize she wasn’t alone. She looked down to meet the stare of a Siamese cat. A blue point if she remembered her Siamese colors. Elegant and aloof, it sat watching her from unblinking almond-shaped blue eyes.
“Well, hello, kitty.” Donna bent down to slide her fingers over its chiseled aristocratic head and sleek back. She liked cats. “Where did you come from?”
“London, actually. It was a terribly rough flight, and I do so hate that queasy feeling. I don’t think I’d live through the humiliation of having to use a barf bag. Where did you come from?” The cat’s gaze never wavered from Donna’s face.
“New York.” Donna’s automatic response came even as her brain registered an it-ain’t-happening moment. She absolutely had not heard a woman’s voice in her head. Glancing up at the numbers showing the floors, she noticed they hadn’t reached the dungeon yet. Why not? They’d been moving long enough to drop one floor, for crying out loud. She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. Nope, no fever. Could she hallucinate without drugs or a fever?
“Of course you’re hearing me. I chose to speak to you because I could tell you were a woman of taste and refinement. Like me. And finding out that you came from New York, one of the world’s cultural centers, makes it even better. Have you been to the opera or ballet lately?” The cat rose and rubbed its head against her leg. “I feel myself bonding with you already.”
Ack! She was trapped with a telepathic cat that wanted to go to the opera, in an elevator that had passed dungeon in favor of a lower floor—hell. Maybe the elevator was a portal to an alternate universe. Maybe—
The cat sat down again and yawned. “Americans are endearingly emotional. When you’ve finished being hysterical, I’ll pass on some need-to-know info.”
Donna focused on ignoring her urge to pound on the elevator doors and scream like a banshee. “Okay, I’m listening. But this better be good.”
“I’m Asima. You don’t need to know my real purpose here, just that you intrigued me.” Asima managed to convey sly without moving a muscle. “You had a visit from this Lola person last night. I just happened to have my ear pressed to your door while she was there. Her sexual advice was, how should I say this, tasteless. Lola is the type who’ll suggest a glow-in-the-dark condom, while I would offer a bottle of champagne in front of a roaring fire. Eric is unique and an incredibly sensual male animal. Only someone who has my talent and sensitivity can guide you to a glorious sexual experience with him.”
“Umm. Wow. Thanks.” She had to get out of here. A ghost and a cat wanted to mess with her sex life, and maybe she should check herself into the nearest mental health facility.
The cat laughed at Donna. In her head, of course. The laughter was low, seductive, and female. “Such an innocent mind. I’ll enjoy filling it with wonderful sexual possibilities. And I’ll do a much better job than Lola. Now when you get off the elevator, go directly to Eric’s room. Make sure you get inside. Pay particular attention to his bed. It’s a wonderful bed to have sex on. Lola would tell you it’s only about the action, but a sensational setting adds so much satisfaction to the total experience. Oh, and ignore the dragon.”
Dragon? Huh? Donna backed against the elevator door in an attempt to put as much space as possible between them, and almost fell on her behind when the door unexpectedly opened. Once she caught her balance, she glanced around. Asima was gone.
It must’ve been the Mexican food she’d eaten for dinner. Great Mexican food. Very hot. It must’ve boiled her brain. Because she would not believe she’d just had a conversation with a cat. The whole thing had freaked her out, and Donna didn’t even think she wanted to talk with Eric anymore. She’d walk up the stairs to her room. Her legs would be rubber by the time she reached the top floor. But nothing, absolutely nothing, would get her into the elevator again tonight. She had her foot on the first step when she heard the shouting.
Donna identified one of the shouters as Eric. Hey, it was his room and he could shout if it made him happy. It wasn’t her business. She hesitated. Fine, so she was nosy. She wanted to know what he was so ticked off about.
Without her complete consent, her feet took her past the dungeon to the room where the three male voices were trying to outshout each other. The door was slightly ajar, and she stood far enough back so she could escape if someone came out.
“Who the hell gave you the right to put a shield over your door so I couldn’t get out? I spent the whole night locked in your freakin’ room. I should knock you on your ass.” Sounds of furniture being kicked.
Hmm. Brynn. Well, at least she knew why he hadn’t shown up for her show. But what was a shield?
“I couldn’t trust you not to blurt out the truth. Five centuries and you’re still impulsive. And you couldn’t kick my butt on your best day.” Sounds of derisive laughter.
Eric. Five centuries? She must’ve heard that wrong. What was he so afraid Brynn might say? Donna assumed the owner did a background check before hiring the brothers, so they couldn’t be hiding something criminal. Still . . .
“Cut the crap, both of you. Eric, what’s so important that you dragged me out of bed to tell me?”
Conall. Donna held her breath waiting for Eric’s answer.
“Taurin’s here. He was in the crowd watching Donna’s show tonight.” His voice was a mixture of weariness and anger.
There was a long silence, then a single word. “Hell.” That would be Brynn.
Okay, she’d heard enough. Didn’t want to know any more about this Taurin. He must’ve been the guy who asked Eric the question. So Eric had a problem. She had a problem, too. Ghosts and cats talked to her. Time for beddy-bye.
She’d started to turn away when Eric’s voice reached her.
“Don’t run away without saying hello, Donna.” His hard voice intimated bad things would happen if she turned down his invite.
How had he known she was in the hall? Didn’t matter, she’d deal with it. She had a few things to say to him, so she may as well get it over with. Shoring up her courage with the memory of how he’d tried to sabotage her program, she strode into his lair. Refusing to look at anything except his face, she scowled and let him have it.
“I don’t know who died and made you king of the castle. Last time I looked the owner had the final say on what did and didn’t happen here.” She gained momentum with every word. “Don’t you dare try to ruin my show again. Because maybe Brynn and Conall won’t kick your butt, but I’m mad enough to get the job done.” Had she been a little too aggressive? Perhaps somewhat belligerent? From his narrowed eyes and thinned lips, she’d guess now might be a good time to start running.
Brynn and Conall’s barks of laughter deepened Eric’s glare to murderous. “You two, out.” He hooked his thumb to indicate the door. Still laughing, they left, closing the door behind them. “You, stay.”
Donna glanced around. Yep, she was the only one in the room. Guess he meant her. Holy cow! For the first time she got a look at Asima’s dragon. “Wow, where’d you get that? It’s incredible.”
Eric tried to hold on to his righteous anger at her spying, but he couldn’t. He knew his scowl was easing into a smile. He couldn’t stay mad at anyone who admired his longboat’s figurehead. It was his past, the one memory of his Viking days that he could reach out and touch, the only “thing” that he treasured. His brother, Var, had carved the figurehead when he was twenty-five and still human. He hadn’t lived long enough to become vampire. He’d died somewhere along the Scottish coast during a raid. Eric had kept the dragon, dragging it along with him when the clan settled in the Scottish Highlands, and later to all the places in the world he’d lived during his eight hundred years of existence.
She tipped her head back to take in the whole of it, exposing her smooth beautiful throat. “It’s huge. You’re lucky to have such high ceilings. I can’t imagine how you got it into this room. Look at the detail. Whoever carved it is really gifted. Tell me the story.”
She’d forgotten her anger for the m
oment, and he wanted to keep it that way. Eric tore his thoughts away from what it would feel like to place his lips on her neck and taste all that was essential warm female in her. “My brother was really into Viking history. Most of the Viking longboats had a carved dragon’s head on the prow to protect them from the perils of the sea and to warn the villagers they were raiding that their visit wasn’t friendly.” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had the joy of talking about the dragon to someone who showed interest. But then, the only ones who’d ever seen it were Brynn, Conall, and a few of the women he’d had sex with through the centuries. Brynn and Conall didn’t care about his dragon, and the women were more interested in his bed than his figurehead.
She wandered over to where the dragon rested in the corner nearest his door—forever frozen in the act of scaring the crap out of all Viking enemies—and slid her fingers over the long sinuous neck. The instant impact on his body, the sensation that she’d smoothed her fingers over his cock, widened his eyes. This wasn’t good. Arousal took his mind off important things, like surviving.
“Your brother did a great job of making him look authentically ancient.” She abandoned the dragon to take a look at his bed. “Now this is a for-real alpha male’s bed. Made from roughhewn logs. It has a primitive splendor. I like it.”
She liked his bed. That opened up all kinds of possibilities. And then he noticed her frown had returned.
“Now, about what you did to my show tonight.”
Uh-oh. He’d let his excitement over her interest in his dragon distract him. He had to find out what she’d heard and keep her from asking any questions. Eric resorted to his favorite diversion.
He moved behind her and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “I did my homework last night.” And then he touched his tongue to the sensitive skin beneath her ear.
“What?” She spun to face him, her eyes wide and startled. But something moved in her gaze that had nothing to do with surprise.
