by Claire Marta
What the hell was going on? He didn't seem to be physically hurt. She had not heard an explosion. Maybe there was another reason he was out cold. What had happened while she was using the bathroom? Scanning the room, her eyes fell on the tray. One tea cup was still sitting untouched.
She then glanced suspiciously at the broken cup on the floor. Had he been drugged?
Suddenly she was grateful she had not drunk her own tea. Only one explanation could she come up with.
Someone must know they were here. Had one of Twitch’s friends betrayed them? It was the only thing that made sense. Suddenly not sure what to do, she looked around the room. He was too heavy to carry. Maybe she should contact Mark again or the French police?
Jasmine stilled. Why hadn’t the police turned up yet? Mark had told her he would get in contact with them, yet they had been here for hours. Surely someone should have turned up by now. What the fuck was going on?
The sudden sound of voices downstairs made her panic. She darted to the door and stood out in the corridor. Like a deer ready to take flight, she stood poised. Maybe she was being paranoid, but her sixth sense for danger had gone into overdrive. It was jingling away inside her skull, so loud it was almost painful. Like a hundred little tinkling bells all set off at once.
Standing by the stairs, she tried to listen to the male voices. They were talking in French. She recognized Jeremy’s voice. He was obviously the little bastard who had sold them out. Did his brother know, too?
The other man speaking sounded strangely familiar. When she heard footsteps coming up the stairs, she leapt into action.
She scampered into the open door and found herself in the other bedroom again. Panic beat through her. A hiding place is what she needed. She could not let herself be found. Without a second thought, she dropped to the floor and rolled beneath the bed. Luckily there was nothing much under it—just a few boxes at the end facing the door, which she used to shield herself. She knew if she stayed completely still, no one would be able to see her. That was her plan.
Her knee poked something hard when she wiggled to get comfortable. With one hand she reached down. Smooth wood met her fingers. As carefully and quietly as she could, Jasmine pulled it upwards. Tilting her head, she discovered she had hold of a baseball bat. A pleased smile curved her lips. Her fingers curled around it. At least she had a potential weapon now.
Peeking through a crack in the boxes, she saw four pairs of legs pass by. They were heading for the spare bedroom. She stilled. Ears straining, she listened for any sound.
Jasmine recognized Pierre’s voice. Now she realised who Jeremy had been talking to downstairs. He did not sound happy. Was he pissed off because she was missing? Seemed so.
“Jasmine?” she heard Jeremy’s voice call. He did not sound frightened. In fact he sounded slightly annoyed. “Jasmine, where are you?”
A short silence followed. She knew they were waiting for a reply. If she was lucky they would think she had gone out. If not, she was certain they would search for her.
An angry voice was suddenly shouting. Pierre sounded like he was having a full-on rant.
A loud bang like a balloon popping filled the air and then a thud.
She froze. With a sick feeling, she realised it had been a gun shot. Had they killed Twitch?
Jasmine bit her bottom lip until she tasted blood.
No, they wanted Twitch alive. It didn’t make sense for them to hurt him. In the back of her mind, she knew they wouldn’t do that. Marcel had risked too much to kidnap them. He wanted the mage for weapons. Killing him now would not make sense.
That could only mean it had been Jeremy. Obviously he had not come through with his part of their bargain or maybe they had planned to kill him all along.
She could hear low voices talking. It left at least three men. That was still too many to take on alone. Not while they had guns.
Jasmine clutched the baseball bat to her chest. Would they look for her now? She knew she was just a bargaining chip to make sure Twitch obeyed Marcel. If they couldn’t find her, they would find another way to get what they wanted. She was pretty sure of that.
Jasmine stilled when she heard movement.
She watched with dread as Twitch, head slumped forwards onto his chest, was dragged past the door by two men. She couldn't see his face thanks to his damn long, messy hair. Each man had one of his arms. He still seemed to be completely knocked out.
Pierre was walking impatiently behind them. His hard, brown eyes glanced inside the room.
Every muscle in Jasmine’s body tensed. Holding her breath, she dared not release it.
His eyes danced over everything. Then after a moment he moved on.
Jasmine waited until she heard them descend the stairs. Then she waited another ten minutes.
She badly wanted to go after her friend. The only thing that stopped her was the fact that they had guns and her baseball bat was no match. Also if she let herself get captured they were back at square one. They would be stuck in a cell with Marcel using her as Twitch’s weakness. She couldn’t let that happen. Not again.
Crawling like a lizard on her belly, she moved from beneath the bed. Stilling, she listened to the sounds of the building. Silent. Eerily so.
She rose to her feet and crept to the door. She raised the bat, ready to strike if anyone surprised her. The warning bells were still going off in her head, making her jumpy.
Biting at her raw lip, she looked at the stairs. Maybe she was being paranoid, but she wanted to be certain they were gone. Knowing her luck this was all a trap. When she was sure she still heard nothing, she moved. The door to the spare room was open.
Jeremy’s body lay on the bed. His face was slack with death, his eyes glassy and empty. A growing stain of crimson was spreading on the duvet beneath him. Jasmine knew there was no point looking for a pulse. He was dead. Nothing could be done for him now.
The tablets and phones Twitch had been playing with were scattered over the floor. Some of the screens were broken. Had someone done it deliberately? She knew she had to contact Mark. He needed to know Twitch had been kidnapped again. They had to find a way to save him.
She sprinted back towards the bathroom and the cordless phone. If her boss could contact the French police like he had promised, maybe they could coordinate a rescue. Marcel could not be untouchable.
BOOM.
The world suddenly exploded around her in noise and fire. A roaring rumble deafened her ears. Heat rushed upwards searing her flesh as an explosion rocked through the building. Jasmine barely had time to scream as she was thrown backwards. Then everything went black.
Chapter 9
Eric stood in the doorway staring at the large luxurious bed. Jasmine lay unconscious in the middle of it, covered by blankets. The little female was lucky to be alive.
Raoul had seen the building explode. He had managed to get inside and carry her out before it was too late. Eric himself had tended to her. She had superficial burns on one forearm and shoulder. That she was not seriously hurt was a miracle.
Eric’s chest tightened painfully. For some reason, the thought of her mortal life being snuffed out left a bitter taste in his mouth. This was odd, as he barely even knew the girl. Eric also knew he should not care.
He was more than certain Marcel had been behind the bomb. Even now, the techno mage was back under the arms dealer's lock and key. The Frenchman was no doubt celebrating yet again.
Did the mage even know, Eric wondered, that he had been deceived by one of his friends for money? By one of the males he so trusted? Greed was a powerful motive for betrayal.
Eric sensed Raoul’s familiar and grounding presence in the other room.
I have all the information you requested, the other vampire whispered into his head.
Moving with silent ease, Eric left the girl to sleep. She would no doubt be sore and shaken when she awoke. Allowing her to rest now would do her good.
He found the other vampire in the livi
ng room of the hotel suite.
Raoul smiled as he sank down onto one of the black couches. With a sigh, he made himself comfortable.
“Her name is Jasmine Hunter. She was adopted at two years of age. Birth parents are unknown. The couple who took her in died in a traffic accident three years ago.” Raoul paused for a moment, making sure he had his companion’s full attention. “She works for a branch of Scotland Yard that deals with supernatural crimes called SNC. She started the job only two months ago. The unit itself has been running for the better part of sixty years. It is made up of six teams and they do not just deal with cases in England.”
Eric sat at the opposite end of the sofa. “You mean to say she is a co-worker of the techno mage?”
“Yes.”
Eric was not sure why this pleased him. The thought of her as the mage’s girlfriend had not sat well with him. They had not acted like a couple. The fact he also suspected she was a virgin had baffled him about their relationship. She was a desirable woman. Why would you wait to have her in your bed?
Raoul was watching him carefully. “My sources say they were together in the car when Marcel’s people grabbed them. They did not confirm her identity.”
“That was indeed sloppy.” Eric had not thought the arm’s dealer would be so foolish. His lust for having the techno mage seemed to have blinded him to all else. Very careless.
“More than fortunate for the girl. Marcel would have had her killed already.”
Eric made a hum of agreement. She was a loose thread, which even now the fat man would want cleaned up.
The other vampire glanced at him sideways. “I have never known you to act so impulsively, Eric.”
Eric knew his friend was referring to his interference with the girl. When they were deep undercover, he never let anything meddle with their missions. He was cold, calculating, and meticulous—even ruthless at times. It was a necessity in his line of work. So why now was he jeopardizing it all for this human girl?
“It was only logical to pluck her from danger,” he replied. “I am sure Scotland Yard will thank us.”
It was the only rational answer. Perhaps he had even felt sympathy for her—an emotion that should have been tightly leashed like all the others he possessed. He was not known as Frostbite for nothing.
Turning his head, he fixed his eyes on the door where the young woman slept. He was still trying to understand the unsettling rush of warmth he had felt when her name had so easily left his lips.
She was also, as Raoul had pointed out, making him act impulsively. This was all so out of character for him. He liked to be in control; it was much safer and tended to ensure one lived longer. This woman, though, brought out emotions he rarely experienced so intensely. Protectiveness, lust, worry, and compassion—they were all tumbling around inside him like a raging storm.
“I think your little female might be a sensitive,” Raoul said, breaking into his thoughts. “A run of the mill human would not have been able to sense what you are, even though she was mistaken.”
Sensitives—humans who could sense and see supernaturals when others could not—were rare. If trained properly, their gifts could be extremely useful and unique.
Still, Jasmine had been slightly wrong though with her guess. He and Raoul were vampiria, born vampires who had never been mortal. The world did not know that two breeds of vampire existed and they liked it that way. It was a secret they intended to keep.
They were the original vampiric race—far stronger and superior. They had no problem with sunlight and were much tougher to kill. Humans-turned-vampires were weaker. They were not pure bloods. The vampiria knew they would be considered more dangerous if others knew the truth.
They didn't number as greatly as they once had as not many of the clans or nests survived. Many failed to find a compatible mate even in the ranks of the human vampires. No immortal was truly indestructible. The right strike or blow could easily end even them.
Eric rested his head back on the padding of the leather sofa.
“I believe you may be right,” he murmured softly. “We cannot allow this to change our plans. She will have to be kept in the dark regarding our true purpose for now.”
Raoul nodded. “So we are to continue our charade in front of her?”
Eric considered his friend's words for a moment. Keeping up their pretence seemed the most logical route. If she could be kept quiet and docile, then she would never need to know the truth. A perfect solution.
His cold gaze met the eyes of the other vampire. “I believe it is for the best for now.”
Chapter 10
Jasmine awoke slowly. She felt like she had been hit by a truck. Everything was aching. The skin on her left shoulder and forearm hurt. She rolled over on the comfy mattress and groaned. A moment later she realised she was naked. Her eyes snapped open. She found herself in a strange room. Confused, she frowned. Where the hell was she?
She hauled the blankets up to keep her breasts covered and sat up. Muscles aching in protest, she groaned again.
Soft lamp light illuminated her surroundings. The bedroom was huge with cream walls and burgundy furniture. A plasma television hung on the wall directly opposite the bed. She could see no personal items lying around. Two smart, comfy armchairs sat against one wall by the door. An antique writing desk and matching chair stood beside the floor to ceiling window, which led out onto a balcony.
The curtains had not been drawn and Jasmine could see the outline of the Eiffel Tower in the darkness. The city lights glittered and glimmered around it. The suite gave off a hotel vibe. A very expensive hotel at that, but what was she doing here? How she had gotten there was the most pressing question in her mind.
“Jasmine, you have finally awakened.”
Deep and smooth, the voice was like thick, dark chocolate—and startlingly familiar. That crisp upper class English accent was unforgettable. Jasmine glanced its way.
The handsome, dark-haired vampire she had met at Marcel’s now stood in the open doorway. Jasmine’s mouth suddenly went dry.
His black hair was slightly tousled and he wore an impassive expression. Black jeans encased his long legs and a white shirt buttoned up over his broad chest. He looked sexy as hell and dangerous.
Her name falling from his lips had come out in a deep, rumbling caress—like he was savouring every syllable. An addictive sound that seemed to stir her senses, although she did not know why.
He exuded a formidable sort of energy. It seemed to swirl unseen around the room, subdued. She could feel it, potent and ready to be unleashed, brushing against her heightened senses.
What the fuck was he doing here? And where was here?
A slight thrill zinged through her and she shivered. Tugging the thick burgundy duvet up more, she kept herself completely covered. Jasmine had not forgotten what he had done to her. God knows she had tried. Experiencing your first ever orgasm was hard to forget.
Her nipples beaded in excitement. The rosy, taut peaks brushed against the material that covered them. She inhaled deeply to stop herself from moaning.
The intensity of the vampire’s cerulean eyes swept slowly over her. Heat scorched through her just from that look. She felt vulnerable but strangely not as much as she thought she would.
By the glint in his eyes, he knew the effect he was having on her. How could he turn her on by just standing there?
Jasmine tried to remember how to breathe. Tearing her eyes away from him, she glanced around the room. She needed to focus. Her body might feel horny, but she needed to keep a clear mind. She suddenly realised she had let a silence stretch between them.
“Where am I?” Her voice sounded a little hoarse and she tried to clear it.
“My hotel suite.” He glided closer. “You were caught in an explosion. Do you not remember?”
Frowning, she tried to recall what had happened. Twitch had been taken by Pierre. She had gone to use the phone and then there had been an explosion. Jasmine remembered the
noise, the pressure, the searing heat, and momentary pain. Dropping her eyes, she found a small burn on her forearm. She had expected it to be red, angry, and blistered. Instead it looked pink and shiny, as if it had been healing for days. How long had she been here? It had to be more than a few hours.
Panic seized her. “Oh my god! Twitch! I have to find him.”
“Your friend is safe.” The vampire’s deep voice assured her. “You know he was not in the blast, but already out of the building when it occurred.”
She turned narrowed eyes on him. He would only know that if he had had something to do with it. Being in league with Marcel, they probably had planned it together. Maybe he even set the bomb. That did not explain, though, why he had gotten her out. Surely letting her die would have been better for them. So what was she doing here?
“Who are you?” she asked softly.
A ghost of a smile touched his sensual lips. “Forgive me for forgetting my manners. My name is Eric.”
*
She had been the first thing on his mind when he had woken. The urge to set eyes on her again and soak in her presence had been overwhelming. Disconcerting, too. Eric had always been cool-headed, logical, and detached. He had never felt this way before—never this pressing need. This human girl had stirred up emotions long buried in him. Still, business came first. Then pleasure.
Moving to a chair beside the door, he picked up white fluffy robe. He could sense she was uncomfortable with her nakedness. Normally this would not bother him. She was under his protection now; it should not matter what she felt. Strangely, though, he felt the need to put her at ease.
Prowling slowly towards the bed, he held it out to her. “Here.”
He could hear the swift beat of her heart. Those lovely green eyes of hers were dilated. Eric could tell she found him arousing, desirable. The scent of her arousal was an enticing aroma. One he had not forgotten. Jasmine smelled of sunshine and flowers. A natural fragrance, he had never come across before on any other being. No odour of artificialness. This smell was unique and all her own. Eric found that it stirred his blood.
