Ivan removed the card and laid the two halves side by side on his desk.
He and his coven were cordially invited to the Gala Opening Ball of the 2005 Spring Conference to be held at Romatech Industries in two nights. Oh, it was that time again. Draganesti hosted this big event every year, with vampires from around the world in attendance, and their coven masters met in secret conferences to discuss relevant issues of modern-day vampire life. Whiny little bastards.
Didn't they know vampirism was a superior way of life? Problems were caused by mortals, and there was only one way to handle them. Feed and destroy. No discussion necessary. There were billions of mortals crammed onto the planet, and they kept breeding more. It wasn't like the vampires were in danger of running out of food.
Ivan threw the invitation in the trash. He had not attended their inane conference in eighteen years.
Not since that traitor Draganesti had introduced his new, synthetic blood to the vampire world. Ivan had walked out in disgust and never gone back.
It surprised him that Draganesti continued to send him an invitation every year. The fool must still be hoping that Ivan and his followers would change their minds and embrace his new, exalted philosophy of the gentle vampire life. Gag.
Frustration and stress gravitated toward Ivan's neck. He massaged the muscles below each ear and closed his eyes. A vision slipped into his mind—Draganesti and his followers at the Gala Opening Ball, dancing in their elegant evening wear, sipping that slimy, fake blood from their crystal flutes, while they patted one another on the back for their heightened, evolved sensibilities. It was enough to make him puke.
Never would he give up fresh human blood, or the thrill of the hunt, or the ecstasy of the bite. Draganesti and his followers were traitors to the very definition of vampirism. An abomination. A disgrace. And just when Ivan thought it couldn't get any worse, they managed to sink even lower, plummeting from betrayal into the absurd. Two years ago, Draganesti had introduced his latest invention—Vampire Fusion Cuisine. Ivan groaned. Pain throbbed in his neck. To relieve the pressure,he snapped the vertebrae like a mortal would crack his knuckle.
Fusion Cuisine. It was laughable. Shameful. It was insidious and seductive. It was constantly being hawked in commercials on the Digital Vampire Network. He had even discovered two of his own harem girls sneaking in bottles of Chocolood—Draganesti's perverted fusion drink of blood and chocolate. Ivan had ordered the girls whipped. Still, he suspected his harem was managing to drink the nasty stuff when he wasn't there. For the first time in centuries, his lovely, nubile girls were gaining weight.
That damn Draganesti! He was destroying the vampire way of life, turning the men into cowardly weaklings and the women into fat cows. And if that wasn't bad enough, he was getting filthy rich. He and his coven enjoyed the good life while Ivan and his followers were crammed into a duplex in Brooklyn.
Not for long, though. Soon he'd deliver Shanna Whelan's dead body and earn a quarter-million dollars. After a few more well-paid assassinations, he could be as rich as those other snooty coven masters—Roman Draganesti, Angus MacKay, and Jean-Luc Echarpe. They could take their fancy Fusion Cuisine and stick it where the sun did shine.
A knock sounded on Ivan's door, drawing his attention away from the foul thoughts of Roman
Draganesti. "Come in."
His trusted friend Alek entered. "There is a mortal here to see you. Calls himself Pavel."
A stocky, blond male ventured into the small room, his gaze darting nervously about. Stesha claimed he was the most intelligent of his thugs, which probably meant the guy could read.
Ivan rose to his feet. He could have risen to the ceiling, but that was a trick he'd reserve for later.
"How did Stesha take the news of your abysmal failure?"
Pavel grimaced. "He wasn't very happy. But we do have a solid lead."
"The pizza place? Did she show up there?"
"No. We haven't seen her anywhere."
Ivan perched on the corner of his desk. "Then what is the lead?"
"The car that I saw. The green Honda.I9 traced the license plate."
Ivan waited. "And?" God, he hated how mortals tried to be so dramatic about everything.
"It belongs to Laszlo Veszto."
"So?" A twinge of pain pinched Ivan's neck. This was taking far too long. "I've never heard of him."
Alek narrowed his eyes. "Neither have I."
Pavel's smile was a little too smug. "I'm not surprised. We didn't know who he was, either, but we definitely have heard of his employer. You'll never guess who it is."
Ivan zipped over to Pavel so fast, the mortal stumbled back, his eyes widening. Ivan grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him forward. "Don't be a smart-ass, Pavel. Tell me what you know and be quick about it."
Pavel gulped. "Laszlo Veszto works at Romatech."
Ivan released him and stepped back. Crap. He should have known. Roman Draganesti was behind this. That accursed bastard was always the thorn in his side. A royal pain in the neck. Ivan tilted his head, snapping the vertebrae back into place.
Pavel flinched.
"Does this Laszlo work the day or the night shift?"
"I… I believe the night shift, sir."
A vampire. That would explain how Shanna Whelan had managed to disappear so quickly. "You have this Laszlo's address?"
"Yes." Pavel pulled a slip of paper from his pants pocket.
"Fine." Ivan grabbed the paper and studied it. "I want two more places watched during the day— Laszlo Veszto's apartment and Roman Draganesti's townhouse." Ivan gritted his teeth. "He lives on the Upper East Side."
"Yes, sir." Pavel hesitated. "I… I'm free to go?"
"If you can get out of here before my girls decide you look like a snack."
Pavel muttered a curse, then ran to the front door.
Ivan passed the paper to Alek. "Take a few men to this address. Bring Mr. Veszto back in one piece before dawn."
"Yes, sir." Alek stuffed the paper in a pocket. "It looks like Draganesti has the girl. What would he want with her?"
"I don't know." Ivan meandered back to his desk. "I can't imagine him killing a mortal for money. He's too big a wimp."
"Da. And he doesn't need the money, either."
So what was that stinking Draganesti up to? Did he think he could interfere with Ivan's plans to get rich? The bloody svoloch. Ivan's gaze wandered to the torn invitation in the trash. "Tell Vladimir to watch Draganesti's house. The girl is probably there. Go."
"Yes, sir." Alek closed the door as he left.
Ivan leaned over to retrieve the invitation from the trash bin. This would be the easiest way to confront Draganesti. The bastard was impossible to reach otherwise, surrounded constantly by a small army of Scottish vampires.
Roman Draganesti was right to keep so much security. He'd survived a few thwarted assassination attempts in the last few years. And his security team had discovered a few bombs at Romatech Industries—courtesy of a secret society called the True Ones. Unfortunately, the bombs had been discovered before they could detonate.
Ivan rummaged through desk drawers till he found a roll of tape. Carefully, he restored the invitation to its original form. These conferences were by invitation only, and for the first time in eighteen years, Ivan and a few of his trusted friends were going. It was about time Draganesti learned that he couldn't mess with Ivan Petrovsky and live to gloat about it.
Ivan was more than the master of the Russian coven. He was leader of the True Ones, and he would make the Gala Opening Ball a night to remember.
CHAPTER 9
It was a shame mortals needed so much blasted light to see. Roman closed his eyes against the glare of the overhead lamp. He was stretched out flat on his back in the dental office with an infantile bib around his neck. At least, so far, the mind control was working. He could hear Shanna moving about with robotlike efficiency. As long as he kept everything calm and controlled, the procedure should be a success. Nothin
g could be allowed to jolt Shanna out of what she thought was a dream.
"Open." Her voice was quiet and monotone.
He felt a sharp prick in his gums. He opened his eyes. She was removing a syringe from his mouth.
"What was that?"
"A local anesthetic, so you won't feel any pain."
Too late. The shot itself had caused pain. But Roman had to admit that dentistry had come a long way since his last encounter with the profession. As a young child, he'd seen the village barber wrenching out people's rotten teeth with his rusty pliers. Roman had done his best to keep his teeth healthy, even though his toothbrush had consisted of a frayed twig. But he'd made it to the age of thirty with a full set of teeth.
That was when his new life, or death, began. After the transformation, his body remained unchanged for the next five hundred and fourteen years. Not that his life as a vampire had been peaceful, quite the contrary. He'd suffered cuts, slashes, broken bones, even an occasional gunshot, but nothing that he couldn't heal himself with a good day's sleep. Until now.
Now he was at the mercy of a female dentist, and the extent of his control over her was unknown.
Shanna snapped latex gloves onto her hands. "It will be a few minutes before the anesthetic takes effect."
Laszlo cleared his throat to get Roman's attention, then pointed at his watch. He was worried they'd run out of time.
"It's already dead." Roman pointed at his mouth. Hell, technically his whole body was dead. He'd certainly felt dead for a long time. But tonight it had hurt like the devil when she'd kneed him in the groin. And he'd almost blown a fuse in the car. Now that Shanna was in his life, he appeared to be coming back to life. Particularly below the belt. "Can we get started now?"
"Yes." She perched on a little chair with wheels and rolled over to him. As she leaned over him, her breasts pressed against his arm. He stifled a groan.
"Open." She stuck a finger in his mouth and probed along his upper gum line. "Do you feel anything?"
God, yes. He fought an urge to clamp his mouth around her and suck the damned latex off her finger. Take that glove off, sweetness, and I'll show you what I feel.
Frowning, she removed her finger from his mouth. She looked at her hand, then started to pull the glove off.
"No!" He touched her arm. Damn. She was more connected to him than he had thought. "I didn't feel anything. Let's continue with the procedure."
"All right." She tugged the glove back on.
God's blood, he couldn't believe it. Mind control with mortals was always a one-way street. He planted his instructions into their heads and read their minds. They couldn't read his. A mortal couldn't possibly read a vampire's mind. Roman watched Shanna warily. How much could she actually pick up from him?
He would have to be very careful with his thoughts. Only think about safe subjects. No more thoughts about his mouth and which of her body parts would fit inside. No. None of that. He'd think about something completely different. Like her mouth and which of his body parts would fit inside.
His groin stiffened. No! No sex. Not now. He needed his damned tooth fixed.
"Do you want me to implant your tooth now?" She tilted her head, frowning a bit. "Or shall we have oral sex?"
Roman stared at Shanna. Good God. Not only had she read him like a book, but she was apparently willing to have sex with him. Amazing.
Laszlo was gasping for air. "My God, how did she come up with such a—an outrageous—" He narrowed his eyes, switching his gaze to Roman. "Mr. Draganesti! How could you?"
How could he not, if Shanna was willing. Oral sex with a mortal? Interesting. Mortal sex in an examining chair. Very interesting.
"Sir!" Laszlo's voice rose an octave. He twirled a button with his fingers. "There isn't enough time for—for two treatments. You must decide between your—your tooth or your…" With a grimace, he glanced at Roman's swollen jeans.
My fang or my yang? The latter strained against his zipper, as if it wanted to leap out and shoot its mouth off. Pick me, pick me!
"Sir?" Laszlo's eyes were wide with panic.
"I'm thinking," Roman growled. Damn. He looked at Shanna. She was standing nearby, her eyes dull, her face deadpan, her body exuding all the vitality of a mannequin. Shit. This wasn't even real to her. It would be like having sex with VANNA. But even worse, for Shanna would hate him afterward. He couldn't do this. As much as he wanted Shanna, he would have to wait. And make certain that she came to him of her own free will.
He took a deep breath. "I want my tooth fixed. Will you do that for me, Shanna?"
She gazed at him, her eyes unfocused. "I am to implant a tooth. An ordinary tooth," she repeated his directions from earlier.
"Yes. Exactly."
"A good decision, sir, if I might say so, myself." Laszlo kept his eyes downcast, apparently embarrassed by the recently proposed change of plans. He inched toward Shanna and handed her ajar. "The tooth is inside."
She unscrewed the top and removed an inner sieve. In the sieve lay his fang. Roman held his breath as she removed the tooth. Would the sight of his fang snap her out of his control?
"It is in excellent condition," she announced.
Good. In her mind, it was an ordinary tooth.
Laszlo glanced at his watch. "Five-fifteen, sir." With a final tug, the button came off in his hand.
"Oh dear. We'll never make it."
"Call Gregori and find out the exact time of sunrise."
"All right." The chemist dropped the loose button in his coat pocket and removed a cell phone. He paced across the office as he dialed.
At least it gave Laszlo something to do. The man was out of coat buttons, and that left only his shirt or his pants. Roman shuddered at the thought.
Shanna leaned over him. Once again her breasts pressed against his arm. His pants grew tighter.
Don't think about it.
"Open."
If only she meant his fly. He opened his mouth. Her breasts were firm, but soft. What size bra? He wondered. Not too big, but not too small, either.
"Thirty-six B," she murmured as she selected an instrument off her tray.
God's blood, could she hear everything he thought? How much could he hear from her? Testing, testing. What size clothes do we need to buy for you?
"Ten. No." She grimaced. "Twelve." Too much pizza. And cheesecake. God, I hate gaining weight. I wish I had a brownie.
Roman felt like smiling, but his mouth was already stretched to the max. At least she was being painfully honest. So, what do you think of me?
Handsome… mysterious… strange. She went about her work. Intelligent… arrogant… strange. Her thoughts were distant and fuzzy, though she still managed to stay focused on her hands and what she was doing. Horny… hung like a horse…
That's enough, thank you. Hung like a horse? Did that mean she was disgusted or she approved?
Damn, he shouldn't have asked. Why should he care what a mortal thought of him, anyway? Just fix my damned tooth. And why did she think he was strange?
She sat back suddenly. "This is very strange."
Yeah, strange. That was him.
She peered closer at one of her instruments. It was a long chrome stick with a circular mirror on the end.
Oh no. "It must be broken," he suggested.
"But I can see myself." Frowning, she shook her head. 'This doesn't make sense. Why couldn't I see your mouth?"
"The mirror is broken. Proceed without it."
She continued to stare at the mirror. "It's not broken. I can see myself." She lifted a hand to her brow.
Dammit, she was about to snap out of the dream.
Laszlo returned with the cell phone pressed to his ear. He took in the scene. "Oh dear. Is there a problem?"
"Put the mirror down, Shanna," Roman ordered quietly.
"Why doesn't it show your mouth?" She gave Roman a worried look. "I couldn't see you at all."
Laszlo winced. "Oh dear." He whispered into the phone, "Grego
ri, we have a problem."
That was putting it mildly. If Shanna broke free of his control, Roman knew his fang would never get fixed. She would see the tooth as it really appeared and refuse to implant it. And that was only the beginning.
She might figure out why he had no reflection.
Roman focused on Shanna. "Look at me."
She turned toward him.
He trapped her in his gaze and tightened his grip on her mind. "You are to implant my tooth, remember? You wanted to do this. You wanted to conquer your fear of blood."
"My fear," she whispered. "Yes. I don't want to be afraid anymore. I want to save my career. I want a normal life." She set the mirrored instrument down on the tray and picked up his fang. "I will implant your tooth now."
Roman exhaled with relief. "Good."
"Oh God, that was close," Laszlo whispered into the phone. 'Too close."
Roman opened his mouth so Shanna could get back to work.
Laszlo cupped a hand around the phone, but he could still be heard. "I'll explain later, but for a while there, it looked like our dentist was going to turn into Dr. No" He moved closer so he could watch. "Now it's quiet again. Too quiet."
Not quiet enough. Roman groaned inwardly.
"Turn your head a little." Shanna nudged his chin to the left.
'The train is back on track, now," Laszlo whispered. "Full speed ahead."
Roman felt the fang being slipped back into the socket.
"The dentist has the item in her hand," Laszlo continued his play-by-play commentary over the phone. "She's returning the bird to the nest. I repeat, bird is in the nest." There was a pause. "I have to talk like this, Gregori. We have to keep the… the fox in the house, but the lights turned off. She came awfully close to flipping a switch a while back."
"Aaargh." Roman glared at Laszlo.
"Mr. Draganesti is unable to speak," Laszlo continued, "which is probably for the best. He was too tempted to abandon the plan when the dentist made an outrageous offer."
"Grrr!" Roman glared at the chemist.
"Oh." Laszlo winced. "I–I better not talk about it." He paused to listen.
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