FrostBite

by Claire Marta

  “Be careful, Jazzy. Marcel is dangerous.” Twitch purred softly in her ear.

  He was the second person to tell her that today.

  Dragging her eyes away from the vampire, she stared at a point on his chest. She didn’t want to get mesmerised by those cold eyes again. They made her feel like he could unearth all her secrets.

  “I am. I promise.” The words came out a little shaky. “What’s he got you working on?”

  “He won’t let me see all the specifications, but it’s some kind of dispersal system. Jazzy, I’m not the only one Marcel’s got working for him.” Her friend’s mutter was hushed and urgent. “His other inventor is building some kind of device.”

  Jasmine narrowed her eyes. She could sense Eric’s growing interest in what was being said. He was probably good at reading facial expressions. All he needed to know was probably written all over her face. Damn nosy vampire.

  “Do you know what it is?” she asked softly.

  Twitch sighed. “No.”

  Was it something to do with a toxin? Having a dispersal system would certainly make sense. But why have Twitch work on it? Something like that didn't need spells.

  “At least we know what he’s got you doing.”

  The mage was silent for a moment. “Someone planted a bug on Marcel. I’m guessing it’s the vampire.” He whispered the words as if fearful of being overheard. “I have hacked into its frequency, so you can listen in if you’re close enough. Don’t tell the vamp.”

  Jasmine glanced up at Eric. He was still watching her carefully. She suddenly wasn’t sure if he could hear the conversation going on in her ear or not. His cold, handsome face, blank of emotions, gave nothing away.

  Twitch was being paranoid like normal, but that was fine by her. The vampires probably still had plenty of secrets of their own. Maybe it was better to keep some of theirs, too.

  “Sure.”

  “As long as you stay within distance, I can listen in and let you know if I can hear anything through the bug,” the mage assured her. “I better stop chatting before my guard checks in.”

  “OK, Twitch. Be careful.”

  “I’ll keep the line open,” he whispered.

  She knew this meant he would be listening in. He probably found it reassuring. Twitch was good at eavesdropping. Maybe it should feel strange having some guy hearing everything she was saying, but Jasmine found it calming. She was also comforted to know he wasn’t going to vanish completely. Thankfully he wasn’t a heavy breather. That would have just been gross.

  “Your friend is well?” Eric murmured softly.

  Trying not to look nervous, she met his gaze. “Yes. Marcel’s got him working on some kind of dispersal system, but he doesn’t know what it’s for.”

  One of his dark eyebrows rose slightly, but his expression remained impassive. “That is most intriguing.”

  Jasmine had the strangest feeling he knew what she was talking about.

  “Any ideas what it might be used for?” She didn't really expect him to spill it if he did, but she had to try.

  “No. None.” His poker face gave nothing away, yet she somehow knew he was lying. Why wasn’t he sharing with her? They had told her a lot already or maybe it wasn’t really much at all. He definitely had secrets. Suddenly she did not feel guilty for having her own.

  A cold breeze brushed her face. “I guess we better get to the party.”

  He glanced over his shoulder at the boat and then offered her his arm. “Yes, indeed. We do not want to draw to much attention to ourselves loitering outside.”

  Walking side by side, they strolled back towards the boarding area. More guests had arrived and they had to join a queue.

  It looked like Marcel had invited every well-to-do person in Paris. The men were dressed in dashing tuxedos and the women wore elegant, fashionable dresses. The expensive jewellery they wore glittered and sparkled in the Christmas lights. They looked like small fortunes in gems.

  “I should have adorned you with pretty baubles, too. Forgive me for the oversight,” Eric said in apology.

  She wasn’t wearing any jewellery at all in fact. Not that she minded. Jasmine did not really do jewellery. The few cheap pieces she owned, she always forgot to wear.

  She slid the vampire a sideways glance. “I’m not into expensive jewellery.”

  An amused smile touched Eric’s lips. “Why I am not surprised?”

  “Besides,” she murmured softly, “I would have spent the whole evening worrying about losing the damn things.”

  Eric’s deep chuckle rolled over her.

  The guard was eyeing them suspiciously as they found themselves at the head of the queue once more. He had not forgotten them.

  Jasmine smiled. “I forgot to even put it on after all that. Silly me,” she said, holding up her bare wrist.

  His expression didn’t alter as he handed back the invitation. He looked almost bored. With a wave of his hand, he sent them on their way.

  Jasmine felt herself relax a fraction. This wasn’t so bad.

  As they stepped aboard the boat, members of the crew showed them where to go. The staff who took their coats gave them a ticket so they could retrieve them again later. The main inside part of the boat was decked out with red and blue Christmas decorations glittering beautifully in the light. Guests mingled. The murmur of voices blended with the dulcet, sultry tones of a female singer and band. The music was slow and romantic—something people seemed happy to slow dance to around the makeshift dance floor.

  As a waiter passed them by, Eric took two flutes of champagne. Jasmine accepted the offered glass. She was happy to have something to do with her free hand. She knew if she kept playing with her purse, the vampire might become suspicious. He did not need to know about her potential weapons. No one did but her.

  They stood to one side near the windows where it was less crowded. She had yet to spot Marcel and Pierre. Dread and nervousness were churning inside her. What would they say when they saw her with Eric? What would they think? Could she really pull this off and pretend to be his new lover? His mistress?

  She was too nervous to try any of the canapés the waiters were offering on their trays. Her stomach was in knots. Skipping dinner had probably been a good idea after all. Jasmine was certain that if she had food in her stomach, she would puke.

  The vampire’s breath suddenly warmed her cheek.

  “Relax, Jasmine,” he murmured in a deep low voice. “Enjoy the party. That is all you need do. I shall take care of the rest.”

  A confident firm hand, settled on the small of her back. Eric’s palm on her bare skin scorched her. Jasmine tried not to gasp. A little thrill of pleasure tightened inside her. Her nipples hardened inside the confines of her dress. Nervousness evaporated as desire took its place. Could he feel her trembling slightly? He was so close that the smell of snow and pine enveloped her. She licked her suddenly dry lips. How the hell did he keep doing that to her? Was it some kind of vampire trick?

  She raised her glass and took a gulp of the alcohol. The bubbles fizzed on her tongue before sliding down her parched throat. They left a warm glow in her stomach.

  Just then, Jasmine spotted the arms dealer through the crowd. He seemed to be holding court over a group of men. They all stood avidly listening to his every word. She watched them covertly over the rim of her glass.

  Who were they? Other buyers for the weapons? People who worked for him maybe?

  “It is time to go to work,” Eric said into her ear. He nodded at the fat man when he looked their way.

  Marcel raised his hand in greeting. Excusing himself from the crowd, he moved in their direction.

  Jasmine tried not to bite her lip. Acting cool and collected was what she needed to do. She noted the young blond guy at his side. He was cute and looked like he was in his twenties. His head was slightly lowered and he looked uneasy. She vaguely remembered him from her first meeting with Marcel. He had been sitting next to him on the sofa. He looked like a
kid. What was he doing with an arms dealer?

  The fat man’s arm coiled around the young guy’s waist. He tugged him in until they were walking hip to hip. Jasmine suddenly understood the blonde’s role. He had to be Marcel’s lover. Somehow she wasn’t surprised that the fat man liked them young. He had to be in his mid-forties himself. Was he hoping to cling to his youth by taking younger boyfriends?

  The mismatched couple weaved their way towards them. It took them a few minutes to arrive as guests kept stopping Marcel to say hello. He seemed to be very popular. All the while Jasmine could feel Eric beside her watching. A detached remoteness seemed to have settled over him. She could sense his icy façade slipping into place.

  “Mon ami! I am happy you accepted my invitation.” Marcel exclaimed as he reached them. Taking Eric’s shoulders in his chunky hands, he pulled him close to kiss both his cheeks.

  Jasmine stood quietly watching. The Frenchman did not even look her way.

  “You have a charming boat, my friend,” the vampire’s deep baritone replied smoothly. “And I did not want to give up the opportunity to show off my latest acquisition.”

  The hand that was still branding her bare back nudged her forwards. Jasmine suddenly found herself the centre of attention.

  Marcel’s eyes widened with surprise when he saw her. “Mon Dieu! I did not recognize her for a moment. It is Twitch’s girl?”

  Eric’s grin was smug and self-assured. “Do not look so shocked, my friend. As you said yourself, I have an interest in her. It was easy enough to find her and convince her it was in her best interests to warm my bed.”

  His tone was the right mix of arrogance and superiority. It made Jasmine want to hit him.

  “I am surprised she agreed.” Marcel dabbed at his sweaty forehead. He seemed to have a never-ending supply of handkerchiefs.

  “It did not take long to persuade her of the benefits.” Eric’s hand caressed over her bottom. A possessively intimate touch. “Or show her.”

  Jasmine lowered her head. Heat warmed her cheeks and spread up into her hairline. She knew what Eric was implying—that they had been having sex. Even though it wasn’t true, it still made her feel uncomfortable.

  The hand on her bottom moved to cup her hip.

  Marcel chuckled.

  The urge to punch him in the face was hard to ignore. Instead she tightened her grip around her glass.

  “The young lady is shy, I see. It is always the way at the beginning before it loses its sparkle.” His eyes slid sideways to his companion. “This is Claude. I do not believe you were introduced last time we met.”

  Claude looked a little nervous. He paled at Marcel’s words. Was he worried the Frenchman had tired of him? Had that been a veiled threat to his lover?

  “You have quite a turnout here,” Eric said, pulling Jasmine from her speculations and the group's attention from Claude.

  Raising the glass flute in her hand, Jasmine took a sip of the contents.

  “Oui. It always is when I throw a party.” Marcel looked around with a proud smile curving his lips. “Come, I have some people I wish to introduce you to.”

  He gestured back across the room. They followed through the packed, jubilant crowd. Eric moved with a confident poise. The hand on her naked back remained in place. It was sensual, arousing. Little sparks of pleasure danced from his touch down past her belly. They left her feeling strangely needy.

  Three men were waiting for them as they drew closer.

  Marcel greeted them with a friendly smile. “This is Monsieur Jeger.” He turned back towards Eric, as Jasmine realized this had to be the vamps alias. “Let me introduce you to Sir John, Herr Randall, and Mr. Smith.”

  “Good to meet you.” Sir John was English. He was darker haired with a severe-looking expression. His gaze seemed to dismiss them as of no consequence.

  “You have an interest in Marcel’s merchandise?” Randall sounded German. He was the tallest of the males. Hair cropped and sun-bleached blond, his eyes gauged them shrewdly.

  “I am keen to see what he has to offer me,” Eric responded. Glancing up at him, Jasmine could tell he was sizing up each man. Did he know if they were wanted? If they were interested in weaponry, they had to be buyers. That could easily make them mercenaries or international criminals. Suddenly she felt like she might be out of her depth. This was not the kind of thing she dealt with at work. Hell, she had barely done anything in her first two months.

  “Who’s the lovely little lady on your arm, Monsieur Jeger?” Mr. Smith had an American twang.

  An easy-going smile was spread across his lips. He looked like the oldest of the bunch. Grey was sprinkled in amongst his short, tawny-brown hair. His face was lined with age, but there was sharpness to his eyes.

  The hand on her back pushed her gently forwards. “This is Jasmine.”

  Jasmine wished Eric would stop doing that. She hated being the centre of attention. Right now, all the men’s eyes were on her.

  A nervous smile fluttered across her lips. “Hello.”

  Mr. Smith’s eyes twinkled in amusement. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

  The other two men did not even bother to acknowledge her. Their eyes were happy to ogle her breasts and legs, though. She tried not to stiffen in response. Now Jasmine realized why Eric had picked the dress. She came in handy as a distraction. A little bit of eye candy to hang on his arm.

  “We have some business to discuss, gentleman,” Marcel interrupted.

  At the Frenchman’s words she was instantly forgotten. The eyes on her body moved swiftly away. She gave an internal sigh of relief. She wasn’t sure if she should be annoyed with the vampire or not. This had to have been his plan all along.

  Eric’s breath whispered against her cheek. “Stay here, Jasmine, and enjoy the party. I shall not be long.” His tone was warm and pleasant, but the flash of his eyes told her to stay put.

  Jasmine nodded.

  The hand on her back dropped away. With it went the amorous sensations she had been experiencing. Strangely, she had a moment of feeling bereft without it. She brought the glass of champagne to her lips and took a long sip. Whatever game the vampire was playing, he seemed to want to play it alone.

  Jasmine watched Eric and the men retreat to the back of the boat. Shamelessly, she kept her eyes on the vampire's perfect, tight arse. The kind of backside you could bounce a dime off. In black trousers it looked amazingly good.

  Claude shifted nervously beside her. Jasmine pulled herself back from ogling her temporary boss. Never in her life had she checked out a man’s butt before. She rather enjoyed it.

  She turned her attention to the blond man. It looked like both of the lovers had been abandoned. At least they had that in common.

  Turning, she decided to take pity on the guy. “Claude, is it?”

  “Actually my name’s Kevin,” he mumbled back, his eyes focused on his champagne. “Marcel just calls me Claude, so everyone else does, too.”

  A frowned marred her brow. Weird. Why would anyone rename their partner? He wasn’t a pet.

  “How long have you been in France?”

  He sounded American. Now she was getting curious. Maybe if she asked him enough questions, she could learn something new. Eric had said nothing about that.

  Claude sighed. “A couple of months, I was visiting with friend and met Marcel.”

  He did not seem happy. Was he now regretting that he stayed? Being close to the Frenchman, he had to know what was going on.

  “Where are your friends now?” Jasmine asked.

  He glanced away awkwardly. “They went home. Marcel insisted that I say awhile.”

  Raising his glass flute, he sipped quickly at the alcohol.

  She was sure what he really meant was Marcel had made him stay. Had he threatened him? Was he a prisoner? He definitely seemed frightened. Maybe he needed help.

  Jasmine lowered her voice to a murmur. “Do you want to go home?”

  Claude’s gaze jerked back to
hers. The desperation in his eyes was unmistakable. This young American did need help. He was begging for it.

  “Yes. I miss my family.” The words barely disguised his plea.

  Taking his arm, she gave it a reassuring squeeze. Jasmine knew she had to tell Eric. If there was a way they could help him, then they had to try.

  She caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Pierre was making his way towards them through the crowd. His hard, brown eyes were fixed on them with intent. A grim expression tensed his features.

  Claude visibly paled in front of her. She knew then he had seen the bulky guard, too.

  Staying relaxed as possible, she smiled up at Claude. She dropped her hand from his arm.

  “So you think I should definitely try macarons?” Jasmine asked casually.

  Pierre’s presence suddenly loomed over them. “What are you two doing?”

  Faking a gasp, she gave him a startled look, hand rising to her chest. “You startled me! We were just discussing French food. Weren’t we, Claude?”

  He nodded, taking a gulp of his champagne. Head turned, he refused to look anywhere but her. The guy obviously didn’t do subtle.

  The bodyguard didn’t seem to notice.

  Pierre’s eyes ran insolently over her. “Tell me, was it easy to give up your boyfriend to become the plaything of another man?”

  Jasmine knew he was baiting her. Twitch wasn’t really her boyfriend. He also didn’t know who Eric really was. As far as they knew she had agreed to be his mistress, most likely for money. She knew she had to play the part. The problem was her inner bitch wanted its say.

  “It wasn’t that hard. Eric has a lot more to offer me.” A coy smile touched her lips. “How could I refuse?”

  Pierre’s eyes rested greedily on the swell of her breasts for a moment. Then they dropped lower to her legs. Suddenly the dress felt too exposing and not so sexy. Jasmine resisted the urge to cross her arms over her chest.

  “I see he’s already paying for that sweet little arse of yours.” Jealousy laced his every word. She could tell he had wanted his chance with her. Jasmine was grateful he never had. Never would.