by Jackie Ivie
And then somebody in the complex clicked on a stove burner.
~ ~ ~
Adelaide awakened with a gasp of anticipation. But then it turned into a sigh of resignation. And then such depression she barely avoided tears. She was atop her red sofa. The bag that had once swelled with ill-gotten gains was clutched in her arms. She sat. Pushed her hair out of her face. Looked around. She told herself not to return to Mitchell again. She would look beyond desperate. But her entire form felt like it was being pulled in his direction.
Mating was such sweetness! But it also had a vicious edge. Nobody had told her that part.
She should dress. She had entire rooms devoted to fashion. All kinds of ensembles. Most were figure-enhancing corsets designed to be worn above skirts fashioned from luxurious fabrics. She didn’t want to wear one of those. She might never wear them again. She started pushing hanger after hanger to one side, discarding outfit after outfit. Surely, somewhere in here she had to have a spinster dress. Something in a dark shade. Black. Or navy. Or even a mauve tone. She wanted one that had a high-neck. Didn’t skim her figure. One that would match how depressed and alone she felt.
She failed. She hadn’t purchased anything like that. A pick-pocket knew what their assets were. She had an eye-catching figure. She’d used it to divert attention more than once. She finally settled on a corset in a dove gray shade. It had rose-colored straps and laces. The skirt that went with it was the same shade of gray with stripes of rose color running through it.
She told herself she wasn’t dressing for Mitch. She wasn’t willing to go to him again. But knew it was a lie. She couldn’t stay away. She loved him. He was her mate. The attraction was too magnetic.
She pulled a pair of woven silk stockings from a drawer. Sat on a stool in order to pull them on. Tied the ribbons above her knees to keep them up. Adjusted the bows.
“Where the hell are we?”
A vague masculine whisper echoed from somewhere in the tunnels about her home. It caught her ear. It had sounded like Mitchell. But that wasn’t far-fetched. She had his voice memorized. She saw him every time she closed her eyes, and heard him anytime she let her guard down.
But there was just a chance...
She caught her breath and tilted her head to one side and listened.
“Abandoned mine. Breckenridge.”
Another male answered. It could be Akron, but she’d never heard him at a whisper. Muted. She was being imaginative. Akron couldn’t be here. Nigel wouldn’t have betrayed her. Addie looked down at her skirt and fought tears. Watched the stripes in the material warp into a wash of rose color. And then she heard the male voices again. They sounded far away.
“So. Which way do we go?”
“You don’t expect me to do everything, do you?”
“You just changed me into a vampire. The least you can do is point me in the right direction.”
“Oh. I think you can find her.”
“There’s a mile of tunnel down here!”
“More.”
“More?”
“You are still a detective, Mitchell Hartnett.”
“So?”
“So...go. Detect.”
She’d never heard Akron laugh before, either. It was a light-hearted sound. And then she heard Mitchell say something under his breath.
“Jerk.”
And that convinced her.
“Mitchell!”
Her shout reverberated about the dressing room. She sped through her parlor. Past the rows of doily-covered tables, displaying bric-a-brac she’d gathered over the years. Shouted his name again. And he answered.
“Addie!”
Mitchell’s voice sent her down a tunnel. Darkness met her at every juncture. The smell of dank disuse. She cried his name again.
“Mitchell!”
“Addie!”
He sounded farther away. She spun and retraced her path. “Mitchell!”
“Addie!”
“Mitchell!”
“Addie!” He laughed aloud. His voice came clearly this time. And it sounded so sweet. Joy-filled. Happy.
“Mitchell!”
She couldn’t hide the emotion. She didn’t even try. They were playing a skewed version of Marco Polo. With a prize of heaven at the end.
“Keep yelling, babe. I think I can find you!”
“Mitchell!” she screamed.
He didn’t answer. Addie’s heart stuck in her throat. He’d been right in his comment to Akron. There were miles of tunnel down here.
“Mitchell!”
“Right with you, babe!”
His voice echoed from everywhere. Addie jerked to a stop and swiveled. She was at another juncture of the mine. Wooden beams were assembled into a ‘X’ partially down one tunnel, the old timbers holding up tons of earth above them. Another tunnel was blocked by an old cave-in. Adelaide’s hands went to her breast. She turned toward the next tunnel, and then gasped as Mitch emerged from the depths, moving at a speed that blurred him. And then he stopped. Faced her.
It really was him. Right here! He opened his arms. And she was in them. Lifted and held close. She didn’t know who’d moved. She didn’t care. His lips touched hers. Their hearts reacted in tandem. And wonder turned the dark tunnels into light-filled portals.
And that was perfectly all right with her.
About the Author
Jackie Ivie lives in the enormous state of Alaska with her husband and three very spoiled pets. She started her writing career writing hot highland historical romances for Kensington Publishing. There are now ten “Clans series” books, available in seven languages. Keeping her head in the clouds most of the time, Jackie now spends her time researching, developing, and writing her paranormal series – the Vampire Assassin League, as well as her other historical line – the Brocade Collection.
Jackie loves hearing from fans, who can contact her at
www.jackieivie.com or www.VampireAssassinLeague.com
Want to keep up with the assassins of the Vampire Assassin League? Consider joining the Assassin Street Team at
http://www.facebook.com/groups/379151425455048/
WHEN IT COMES is the 31st installment of the Vampire Assassin League. Check out all the assassins in the VAL, available singly, in 4-book bundles, and in print as 2-packs.
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Copyright 2016, Jackie Ivie
All Rights Reserved
978-1-939820-80-8
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portion thereof, in any form. This book may not be resold or uploaded for distribution to others.
This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design and Interior Format by The Killion Group, Inc.
www.thekilliongroupinc.com
