The evening was indeed a fantasy. Between the large meal and the music, she hadn’t been able to engage Drago in a lengthy conversation, but it didn’t matter. Marya noticed several admiring glances from men who were out of Drago’s line of sight. She didn’t acknowledge any of the looks, but they made her feel good. Men had seldom ever paid attention to her, except for the occasional lout in New Orleans who had imbibed in too much alcohol. Marya could also hardly fail to observe the many female glances thrown Drago’s way, which ranged from blatant stares to furtive peeks.
Maybe it was his jet-black hair and pale skin, but unusual as his coloring was, she didn’t think it was that which drew the women’s attention. She didn’t even think it was his blue eyes. She was sure that Drago didn’t care about any of the women in the room, so there were no come-hither looks, provocative body poses, or any other signals that men sent out to attract the opposite sex. No, it was something totally intangible. She hadn’t had a lot of experience with men herself, but on her trips to New Orleans she had spent hours studying the subtle interactions between men and women. She had told herself it was so she could capture expressions for the subjects of her paintings. An observer of life. That’s all she had ever been until now. Now she was a participant.
She smiled, looking at Drago and pretending the pleasure was due to the music. Did he know what he did to women? He had to. The sensuality that clung to him was more than akin to just another garment he could put on or take off. It was a natural part of him, no different from his skin or eyes. It was what had reached out to her the first night she had met him, undeniable even knowing he was the hated Anti-God of the Undead.
The band started playing a slow song.
“Come, cherie. Dance with me.”
She hesitated, but this time he didn’t let her have her way. He stood, as if pulled by strings from above, and reached for her hand. He drew her to him, and in a heartbeat she found herself at the edge of the dance floor, pressed to him. She wound her arms around his neck, burrowing her hands through his thick hair to feel the skin of his neck against her fingers. She gazed past his head at the crowd and saw every female at the bar staring at them. She closed her eyes, hid a smile against his shoulder, and let her feet follow his, all the while breathing in his scent and feeling the hard muscles under his shirt rub against her body. Desire quickly flared low in her body, and by the hardness she felt pressing against her, she knew Drago was dealing with a similar reaction.
When the song was over Drago tilted his head and kissed her, just once, but as unhurried as if he had all night.
His kiss fired the ache she felt, but it was nothing more than pleasurable tension, and part of the evening’s magic. The hours passed too quickly in slow dances and moments spent on the deck, watching the night sky above and the dark water below.
Both of them were quiet during the short drive back to her house. Marya leaned her head back against the headrest. She could only think about one thing—making love to Drago, without either the fear and momentary pain of the first time, or the overwhelming need and frantic pace of the second time. Tonight, this last time, would be, well . . . if not perfect, then as close to perfect as one could get making love to an Undead creature with no soul.
When Drago pulled the car into her long driveway, she lifted her head in anticipation. She saw the strange car caught in the headlights’ beams just as Drago spoke.
“You have company.”
He stopped his car well back of the strange one, shutting off the engine but leaving the headlights on. She pushed her door open, but his hand snaked out and clamped onto her arm.
“Wait, cherie. Stay here.”
He let go of her and exited the car. She stayed in her seat, but continued to hold her door open so she could hear. A stranger stepped out from the driver’s seat, and a too-familiar stink assailed her nostrils before she could hear any words. It’s a vampire. A second later a woman exited the passenger side of the car. She heard Drago’s voice, but he was speaking French. It didn’t matter. Her eyes told her enough.
Drago’s smooth, unhurried steps took him to the woman, and after a quick swap of words he held her in a gentle embrace. Marya sat numbly watching the strange exchange. After a moment she saw Drago look her way, and he motioned for her to come ahead. She did, shifting her gaze back and forth between Drago and the strangers.
“Ah, Marya, this is my assistant, Philippe Chenard, and a . . . good friend of mine, Adelle Duquesne. They’ve just arrived from Paris. Philippe, Delle, this is Marya Jaks.”
Drago smiled as he made the introductions, but the curve of his mouth looked forced, and his words had seemed to snag more than flow like they usually did. These people were friends of Drago’s, yet Marya felt a strange dynamic between the three. Like her, was he disappointed at the prospect of their postponed lovemaking? Despite her disappointment, Marya greeted the visitors politely.
Adelle took both her hands and squeezed. “We apologize for the lateness, and don’t worry, my dear, we won’t be staying over. We have a hotel room in town. It’s just that I’ve been so worried about Drago I couldn’t wait to see him,” she said, her gaze anchored on the subject of her concern. Her English was good, but she had a strong French accent. She was a handsome woman, in her fifties by Marya’s guess.
“It’s fine, really. I’m sorry you had to wait. Come in, please.” She unlocked the door, flipped on the lights, and led the group into the living room. “Make yourselves comfortable.” She turned to Adelle. “Can I get you anything? I’m sure you’ve been sitting in that car a long time.” Philippe was a vampire, but Marya knew Adelle was human.
It was Drago who answered. “Ladies, would you excuse us? Philippe and I are going to have a word.”
The two vampires escaped to the rear patio, and Drago eased the door shut behind them with a definitive snick. Marya watched them until shadows swallowed their faces. Drago hadn’t looked very happy.
“Come to the kitchen with me,” she said to Adelle. “I’ll make us some coffee.”
Adelle smiled. “I’m sure Drago’s going to give Philippe a dose of ‘The Drago Way’ for both bringing me from Paris and to your house. Philippe’s instructions were to check into a hotel and contact Drago from there, but it wasn’t Philippe’s fault. I insisted on coming.”
Marya had no idea what the woman was talking about, but she tried to keep her features neutral. She started water to boil, sparing several glances out the bay window, but the men were out of view. “’The Drago Way?’”
“Drago likes things done his way. Those who disobey can always count on a correction.”
“I’ll try to remember that. With Drago I’m getting used to the unexpected.”
“I’m sure you are. Has he told you who I am?”
Marya sucked in a deep breath. Drago had mentioned Philippe and Nikolena, but no other women. “No.”
“I would have been surprised if he had. He introduced me as his friend, and I am that, but much more. I’m his chatelaine. Do you know what that means?”
It was becoming obvious to Marya that she knew very little about vampires, and about Drago in particular. Marya set two sets of cups and saucers on the counter and turned to face Adelle. “Not really.”
“I’ve been his servant for forty years. I take care of his chateau outside Paris, and I run all his affairs that aren’t directly related to Directorate business. But it’s more than that. I’ve pledged my life to him. I would die for him if he asked it.”
Marya suddenly felt self-conscious standing there in the revealing bustier and sexy skirt. This was the woman in Drago’s life. What must Adelle think of her? She spun back to the counter to hide her embarrassment, and poured water over instant coffee. “He’s an extraordinary man. You must care for him a great deal.” Her voice felt as tight as her clothes. She turned and offered a cup to Adelle.
; Adelle’s voice was soft. “He is. And I do. When I heard the report and the details of the injuries he sustained in Phoenix, I had to see with my own eyes that he was all right. I also know that you saved his life. Thank you. I have the feeling that I’m not the only one who cares for him.”
Marya felt her face flame even more. She blew on her coffee and tried to hide the heat of her emotions in the steam from her cup. This woman seemed to know a whole lot about her, and she, in turn, knew nothing about Adelle. Did Adelle know Marya was Drago’s lover? Dressed in the provocative outfit, a guess on Adelle’s part wouldn’t be very difficult. How many other lovers had Adelle seen come and go in past years? Most likely so many that it didn’t bother her to see one more.
“Am I right, Miss Jaks?”
“Call me Marya, please. And I’m sorry, but right about what?”
Adelle sipped her coffee. “You do care for Drago, don’t you? A great deal, if I’m not mistaken.”
Was it that obvious to someone who had only seen her for five minutes? She nodded. “You must think me pretty foolish. After all, in another day or two I’ll never see him again.”
“You’re only foolish if you abandon your feelings for him.”
Marya was about to reply when Drago and Philippe came in. Neither man looked any happier than before they had gone outside. Had Drago indeed given his assistant a tongue-lashing? Adelle also seemed to notice the lack of joy in the friends’ reunion, because she was quick to squeeze Philippe’s arm and give him a smile of encouragement before she stepped up to her master.
“Leksii, a private word, please?”
Drago didn’t answer right away, but looked first at Marya, then Philippe. A slow burn seemed to fuel his stare, but what did he have to be upset about? Marya understood Adelle wanting a moment alone with Drago, though, even if it meant she would be alone with Philippe. Small talk after midnight with a strange vampire wasn’t something she looked forward to.
Drago’s gaze settled back on Adelle and seemed to soften. “Outside, then, Delle.”
The French door to the patio got another workout, and Marya was left to share the sofa with a vampire whose lingering gaze on the low neckline of her bustier made her feel more exposed than the garment did.
DRAGO’S ANGER still threatened to boil over, but he didn’t want to take it out on Adelle. “Philippe had no business bringing you here. I told him that in no uncertain terms.”
“Please, Leksii, don’t blame him. I insisted. And how can you be angry with him? He’s the only one who supports you. Do you have any idea what he’s been through the past few weeks? He’s got the chiding of every vampire who passes through the Directorate to contend with, along with phone calls and letters of protest from every vampire you look sideways at. And not least of all, he’s got Nikolena breathing over his shoulder and taking all her frustration with you out on him.”
He stared past her through the door. Marya looked decidedly uncomfortable with the vampire in question. “How can I be angry? Easy. Because it’s dangerous, and Philippe’s brought you right into the thick of it. You’ll be just another pawn for my enemy to use against me, and I’ve already got my hands full with Marya.”
He saw Adelle’s gaze flick toward Marya, who sat with her arms folded across her chest.
“Yes, that’s quite obvious, isn’t it?” asked Delle. Her voice took on a sharpness, and Drago wasn’t sure if it was because of his anger at Philippe or his all too evident relationship with Marya. It wasn’t like Adelle to be jealous of other women, but then again, his liaison with Marya was no mere vampire game, and he was sure Delle knew it.
“Delle . . .”
She turned back to him. “No, Leksii, I’m sorry. It’s not for me to question your affairs of the heart. And this girl does love you. I hope you know that.”
“L’ amour?” He didn’t want to be hearing this.
“Yes, love. Don’t pretend you can’t recognize it in others just because you can’t see it in yourself.” Her voice lowered, but kept its edge. “Though it amazes me that any female with a brain strong enough to battle the army of hormones you set to raging can love an exasperating creature like you.”
He smiled and smoothed back a strand of graying, blond hair that the breeze had curled across her face. “You did, ma chere.”
“Yes, I did. And sometimes, after forty years, I’m still astounded that I fell for you. You didn’t bespell this girl, did you?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so.” Her voice softened at last. “What are you going to do with her?”
This was getting far too complicated. He had too many things to worry about right now. “Mon chou, even if I had the capacity for such tender reflection, I don’t have the luxury of time for such things. Evrard Verkist is a very bad apple, but he didn’t forge my order. Neither did Deverick nor any of the other Brotherhood bad boys.”
“How do you think Philippe can help? He brought all the files, as you requested, but the order to have Marya terminated didn’t come from your office. You know that.”
He sighed. “There’s very little I’m sure of, Delle.” He glanced again into the living room. “Come. I think Marya needs rescuing from Philippe’s charms.”
Adelle put a hand on his arm, and the warmth of her touch threatened to bring memories of four decades ago to the present. Of course, forty years was no more than a blink in time for him, but for Adelle it was a lifetime. “A moment more, please, Leksii. It’s the reason I wanted to see you alone in the first place. When I heard what happened with Verkist . . . well, it . . .” She paused, and Drago put a hand on her shoulder. “It was almost more than I could bear. I just want to know you’re all right.”
Dear Adelle. It had amazed him, too, over the years, that such a beautiful, strong woman as she could love a melancholy Russian who had lost his soul so long ago. He slid both arms around her and drew her gently to him. She didn’t resist the move. In fact, he felt her joy in touching him in every part of the soft body that pressed against his. But he also knew that she would tolerate nothing more than an embrace. “Do I not look all right, ma chere?”
“You look magnificent, as you always do, and you know it.” She pushed away from him. “Let me look into your eyes, Leksii. Your eyes cannot hide anything from me, and you know that, as well.”
“Look, then, Delle, and satisfy yourself.”
She gazed at him with an intensity and scrutiny that only Nikolena could best. After a full minute she smiled. “Hmm. I can see that you don’t need my mothering after all.”
He kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Ma chere, I shall always need you.”
She pulled on a strand of his hair. “I won’t be around forever. I think it’s that Gypsy girl in there that you need right now.” She glanced inside the house. “But at the moment I think she needs you. Philippe is not used to being around mortals. Especially beautiful females.”
Drago gave a dramatic sigh and looked through the glass doors, but his sigh quickly turned to laughter. While he had been embracing Adelle, Philippe and Marya had risen from the sofa. Philippe had Marya backed against the wall. He didn’t have her totally boxed in. He’d only braced one arm against the whitewashed drywall, but Phillipe’s smarmy grin told Drago that he would like nothing more than to corral Marya. But Marya had fisted her skirt in each hand and pulled the material up to her thighs. Perhaps Philippe saw only skin, but Drago saw one knee cocked and aimed right at his assistant’s manhood.
“Do you know, Delle, that Marya nearly killed me? And that she did manage to send some other poor bastard to la Belle Mort? I pity Philippe if he makes so much as one more wrong move.”
Delle smiled as well. “Rescue him, then. Philippe has suffered enough tonight under the whip of your tongue. A knee in the crotch from a mortal would be adding salt to the wound.”
�
��Very well, my pet. Only for you, though. Philippe’s actions win him no pity points with me.”
They entered the house, and Philippe immediately stood up straight.
Drago strolled up to Marya and looked his aide in the eye. “It would seem, mon ami, that you forgot to pack your manners when you left Paris.”
Philippe raised both brows and stared back with hazel eyes that glowed with an almost golden fire. Logic may have told Philippe that Marya was an aberration with tainted blood, but that apparently hadn’t mattered to Philippe. A beautiful mortal was a beautiful mortal, and Drago knew bloodlust when he saw it.
“Manners? She’s nothing but an . . .”
“Careful, mon ami. You would be well advised to taste your words before you spew them out. Adelle is done with me. I will see you tomorrow. Call me in the afternoon, and we’ll arrange our meeting—without the women.”
He escorted them out the door, bid them good night, and moved the car so that Philippe could back out the driveway. A moment later he was back inside the house. Marya was opening all the windows and French doors.
“Your friend not only stinks, but his behavior is no better than that of an undisciplined child. I can’t believe that man is your aide.”
Drago smiled. “He’s efficient, but he’s used to dealing only with the Undead. I would venture to guess it’s been a long, long time since he’s been in a room alone with a human female who looks the way you look.”
She sidled up to him and put her hands on his shoulders. “Is that some sort of backhanded vampire compliment?”
He slid his hands around her waist, and his lips pressed his answer against hers. “Philippe is very lucky,” he breathed when he released her.
“Umm. Why do you say that?”
“Because if it hadn’t been for Adelle, Philippe would have received either an excruciating lesson in comportment from you or an even more painful one from me.”
Marya pushed away from him and her expression shifted with the speed of an angry female. “You didn’t tell me about her. Never even mentioned her. Is having a flock of lovers a Russian thing, a vampire thing, or just The Drago Way?”
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