by L. A. Banks
"Whoa, wait a sec, love. You don't think it's that easy, do you?"
"How do you mean?"
That devilish gleam returned to his midnight eyes. "There can be no faith without doubt. No strength without temptation. In order for this bargain to stand, you have to be here so that I can oversee your behavior myself."
She stiffened at his implication. "My word is gold."
"And usually mine is pyrite. At the moment, though, to see this through, I want you here to serve me. It's only fair anyway, since you're the reason I'm being deprived of Jeff's service, such as it is."
"Who will look after Ephani?"
"Call in a substitute. That's what you would've had to do to find him anyway, right?"
Celena was beginning to hate this man. "You can't be serious."
"Quite. Now is it a deal, or not? Think quickly before I change the terms again."
And he probably would, too, just to annoy her. "Fine, it's a deal." And yet even as she said those words, she had the sneaking suspicion that she'd just signed her soul away to the devil.
As soon as Rafael had Celena out of his house, he rushed to the basement only to find Jeff lying back on his black leather sofa, feet up on the coffee table, playing his PSP as if he didn't have a care in the world. It was so unbelievable that Rafael stood in the doorway for a full minute, staring with a slackened jaw.
Jeff was the kind of man that as pirates they'd have buried alive in the sand and left to rot. Why? Because people like him really were too stupid to live. It was a public service to speed them to their graves.
Honestly, the temptation to kill him was there and it was strong. Damn strong.
Yet again, Jeff was lucky Rafael had mellowed tremendously over the centuries. Not to mention the small fact that Rafael wanted an opportunity to break at least one more major rule before one of them died.
Jeff had no idea that he owed his life right now to the fact that Celena had the most tempting lips this side of paradise and if Rafael wanted a taste of them, he had to get Jeff out of here before she returned.
Rafael grabbed the tiny remote from the table to his left and turned the PSP off.
"Hey!" Jeff snapped, looking up. "I was on level four and I didn't save it."
"Screw level four. I need you to get out of here, pronto."
"And go where?"
"My boat in the marina."
Jeff curled his lip in distaste. "And do what?"
"Live through the night, which is more than you're going to get to do if you don't stop lipping off. Now get up and get started. I've bought you some time, kid, but it's finite. You have to go lie low for a week."
While Jeff made juvenile noises of discontent, Rafael's attention fell to his laptop, which was on the table at Jeff's feet—that should do to keep him occupied and out of trouble.
At least until the poor bastard published something again.
Picking the laptop up, Rafael handed it off to Jeff. "Go write your great American novel, but for God's sake, do what everyone else does and make the whole story up."
Jeff grimaced at him. "You know I get seasick."
"You'll survive seasickness. Lead poisoning's another matter. There's enough staples and such on board that you should be fine. Keep your ass below deck and if you so much as look at the helm, I'll cut your head off myself. You're not to go joyriding or anything else on my boat—it really is worth more to me than your life. Do not leave the lower deck under any circumstances barring fire, and whatever you do, keep a bucket nearby and don't puke on anything."
Jeff screwed his face up as if that were the most sickening thought he'd ever had. "But I want to stay here."
"And people in hell want ice water and if you don't go to the boat, you'll probably be able to take it to them in person in about twenty minutes. Get out, Jeff. Now."
Jeff started to grumble as he got up, then caught himself. "Can I take the PSP?"
"If it will speed you on your way."
"You got any more games for it?"
Raphael growled low in his throat as he picked the small black game case off the coffee table and chucked it at him. "Anything else?"
"A hooker would be nice."
"Jeff. . ."
"I'm going; I'm going."
The pain in Rafael's skull returned as Jeff made his way back upstairs at a pace that would make a slug proud. Oh yeah, they'd have sacrificed him on the main deck ten seconds after boarding.
"Could you pick up the pace, Jeff? We only have another eight or nine hours until daybreak."
He cast a grimace at Rafael over his shoulder. "You're such a bossy asshole."
"Comes with being a pirate captain . . . which my father was, too, by the way. He wasn't a merchant like you have in your story. He ate those for breakfast."
Jeff actually stopped on the stairs. "Really?"
"Jeff!" he snapped. "Up. The. Stairs."
Mocking his words, Jeff finally managed to make it up to the door. It took about fifteen minutes to get him packed and out of the house, along with more warnings about what Rafael would do if Jeff so much as scuffed a board on his boat.
Jeff had only been gone at most five minutes before Celena returned. Rafael had to force himself not to glance down the street after Jeff since it was obvious the two of them must have passed each other on the road. But unlike Jeff, Celena was quick on the uptake and would realize why Rafael was looking north.
No doubt she'd catch the snail and salt him well.
"Welcome back, my lady," Rafael said as Celena adjusted the black backpack on her shoulder as she neared his door.
She only grumbled in response as she stepped past him and entered his house. "I can't believe I have to do this," she said under her breath.
He was a bit stung by her words until he realized she still wasn't looking at him. In fact, she avoided it with such determination that it made him smile. No woman did that unless she was interested and was trying to fight it.
"Let me show you where to bunk."
Celena stepped back so that Raphael could lead her toward the mahogany stairs in the middle of the house. She really did hate being here. How could she serve a man who distracted her so much? And as he headed up the stairs and she had an unobstructed view of that tight, perfectly formed butt, it was all she could do not to reach out and grope it.
This was wrong on so many levels. How had she allowed him to talk her into this?
It's the only way to get Jeff. Or was that just an excuse so that she could be here with him? Not wanting to even consider that thought, she forced herself back to business. She'd have to keep her thoughts on her work and not on how good Rafael looked while dressed all in black. . . .
Or more to the point, wonder what he'd look like without those clothes on.
He took her to the first room on the left. "This is the guest room, not that I ever have guests, except for . . ." He glanced at her and winked. "We won't go into that, but it's clean and well kept."
"Thanks," she said, stepping inside to find a room that was decorated in Victorian antiques. It was actually quite lovely, with heavy burgundy drapes and gold brocade Chippendale chairs. The Victorian tester bed held a matching burgundy and gold bedspread that looked lush and inviting.
Not half as inviting as it would be with a naked Rafael in it, but what could she do?
Ask him to join you?
Yeah. Shaking her head at her errant thoughts, she set her backpack on the mattress, then turned to look at Rafael, who cut a tempting pose in the doorway. With him dressed in black pleated pants and a black sweater that clung to his body, it was hard to think straight. Which meant she needed to get him out of here before she lost all sense of her duties and succumbed to the idea of stripping him bare.
"Shouldn't you be out patrolling?" she asked.
"Still too early. Besides, there hasn't been much Daimon activity lately." He crossed himself. "Since Danger died, it's been unnaturally quiet."
"Yeah, that's
what Ephani says, too. It's like they've moved on, which is weird. You'd think killing a Dark-Hunter would have invigorated them."
Without commenting, he moved closer to her ... so close that the scent of him invaded her senses. More than that, it warmed her completely. There was something calming about that scent of Brut and man. Something tempting and sinful.
It kept her spellbound as he paused right beside her and lifted his hand to brush a stray braid from her shoulder. Her heart racing, she couldn't move. All she wanted was to feel him touching her.
A small smile hovered on the edges of his lips as he dipped his head toward hers. She knew he was going to kiss her and still she couldn't move.
Not until his lips parted and she glimpsed his fangs.
He's a Dark-Hunter.
That jolted her enough that she could take three steps back. "We should reorganize your house while I'm here so that it's more efficient."
Rafael bit back a foul curse. One more second and he would have had her. "House is fine."
"No. No, it's not. Do you even have an evacuation plan for what to do if it were to catch fire during the daylight? You know you could roast and die quite easily, then you'd be a soulless Shade and screwed for eternity."
That went over him like a cold shower. Now there was something he'd never thought about before, and he was pretty good at putting together disaster plans.
"It happens a lot with these older homes," she continued. "What with their faulty wiring and all. I heard of one Dark-Hunter who died like that just last year."
"Who?"
"I can't remember the name, but it was one of the Dark-Hunters in England. Total barbecue. You can check it on the Web site."
He'd really rather not. No Dark-Hunter liked to read about the death of another one. It brought home that even though they were technically immortal, there were still things out there that could kill them. And having died already, it wasn't something Rafael wanted to experience again.
Still, she didn't relent. "You should contact a friend of mine. He specializes in fireproofing underground bunkers for Dark-Hunters. He can put in a sprinkler system and—"
"You're rambling."
"No, I'm not. Dark-Hunter safety is a Squire's number one priority. In fact, I'll call Leonard first thing in the morning and see when he can come out for an estimate. We should also make sure that you have a roll bar in your car in case you flip over in a wreck. Oh, and a steel bar shield on the driver's side in the event you run up under something, so that you can't be decapitated."
Without conscious thought, Rafael's hand went to his throat. Damn, the woman gave paranoia a whole new meaning.
"We should also look into the history of this house and make sure that it was never used as a bed-and-breakfast."
"Why?"
"If property has ever been used as a community place such as a boardinghouse, restaurant, or anything open to the public, then the Daimons can enter without an invitation. You don't want them barging in on you and killing you, now do you?"
"Not really."
"Then we need to do a property search. Unless your last Squire did that."
"No."
She tsked. "I need a piece of paper. This is going to take a while."
And by the time she fished that paper out of her backpack and started making a list, Rafael felt ill. The woman should work as a Codes Inspector. Jeez. She thought of dangers that had never occurred to him.
She even went outside and inspected the grade of his basement, which wasn't high enough, in her estimation. After all, according to her, a foundation shift could cause a crack that could theoretically expose him to daylight.
Not bloody likely, but she seemed determined to ferret out any possible—heavy emphasis on the "possible"—threat.
By the time ten o'clock rolled around, he was more than ready to begin his patrol. He came up from the basement to find an arsenal on the table.
Two daggers, three stakes because two could break in a fight, a Daimon tracker that he'd always profaned using, a Kevlar jacket, his cell phone, and a watch were all laid out for him.
When she lifted the Kevlar to help him into it, he merely stared at her. "Bullets can't kill me."
"No, but they do hurt. The Daimons could, in theory, shoot you until you're too weakened to fight them and then behead you."
He shook his head at her as he again declined to put on the jacket. She was perturbed as she set it aside while he hid the daggers in his boots.
"Want to put a cone around my head like a dog to make sure that they can't decapitate me while we're at it?" he asked sarcastically.
"I would," she said to his instant incredulous dismay, "but Ephani got really angry when I tried that with her, so I learned that it's more important for you to blend in than protect the neck. But I do have this." She pulled a thick black steel collar from her pocket. "If you wear it under a turtleneck, it's not so obvious. Kind of medievally looking."
He had no response to that. It was the most ludicrous thing he'd ever heard. In fact, as he tucked the stakes away, he had to force himself not to use them on his latest menace. . . .
Her.
She handed him the watch. "I double-checked the sunrise on weather.com and cross-checked it with the meteorological society and my friend who's an astronomer to be sure it was accurate. It's at six fifty-nine A.M. sharp. I've already set the alarm to give you a twenty-minute warning." Next, she held out a piece of paper. "Here's a list of how long it will take you from various parts of the tri-city area to get back here. I'll keep an eye on your tracers to make sure that you have adequate time to make it back home without threat or harm."
Then she handed him a folded-up black body bag. "And in the event you can't make it back, zip yourself up in this and press the panic alarm I added to your key chain. Then I can come get you home before the daylight makes you burst into flames."
Again, he was speechless.
She picked up his cell phone. "I preprogrammed my number in on the speed dial under one and Acheron under two. Did you know you didn't have any numbers listed as 'ICE'? You should always have an In Case of Emergency contact number. So I put mine in for that, too."
"What about Jeff?"
"Since he won't be with us much longer, I didn't bother."
This was madness. No wonder Ephani hadn't fought him on having Celena replaced for a week. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, the woman was insane.
"Anything else, Mom?" he asked.
"Yes. Play nice with the other kids and don't let the Daimons get the drop on you. Use the tracer so that you know where they are at all times."
Raphael couldn't get out of his house fast enough. So much for his thoughts about trying to seduce her. He'd rather face the Daimon horde blindfolded and with both hands tied behind his back.
More than that, he'd rather go babysit Jeff. If anyone had ever told him that he'd prefer the lazy, lackadaisical boy to the hot Caribbean sex goddess, he'd have laughed in their face.
Now he could appreciate Jeff's laid-back nature.
Maybe it's just a ploy of hers. . . .
He paused at that thought. Maybe she was just doing this to drive him away. It was possible.
Very possible.
Oh yeah, he was on to her now. It made total sense.
Fine then. Two could play this game.
Getting into his car, he smiled. "En garde, ma petite." They were about to go to war, and at the end of this, he was going to win.
Rafael wasn't winning his war. He was losing it miserably and not even with style. No matter what he tried, Celena circumvented his best efforts. The woman was a machine, and after forty-eight hours of having her in his house, he'd had enough.
Sitting on his couch in the basement an hour after sunset— because, quite frankly, if he went upstairs, he might kill her—he called Ephani, who answered on the third ring.
"Come get your Squire," he said without preamble.
Her tone was dry and snide. "Hi to you, too,
Rafael. Nice to hear from you."
"Cut the crap, Eph, and come get her before I kill her."
"She making you crazy?" He could hear the humor in her voice.
"You think? How do you stand it night in and night out and not lose your mind?"
"She's a little obsessive, but—"
"A little?" he asked incredulously. "The woman makes a serial stalker look like a Boy Scout."
Ephani snorted. "She's not that bad."
"Oh yes, she is. Trust me. I almost lost my head to a Daimon the first night she was here."
"How so?"
He clenched his teeth at the memory. "Picture this. There I am in the alleyway, sneaking up on a group of Daimons who have this college kid trapped between them. Just as I go to make my move to save the kid, the phone rings with Ms. I-have-no-purpose-save-to-make-you-crazy calling to tell me that according to the tracer she has on me it's time for me to head home so that I won't get caught out in daylight."
Ephani was laughing so hard that he wanted to reach through the phone and choke her.
"It's not funny."
She kept laughing.
Rafael let out a disgusted sigh. "Did she reorganize your kitchen and fill it up with wheat germ and shit? I tried to explain the whole I'm-immortal-I-live-forever to her, but she doesn't get it. She said that even immortals need to eat healthy foods."
Still Ephani was laughing.
And still Rafael wanted to kill the Amazon as well as Celena. "This really isn't funny, Eph."
"Oh yeah, it is. Gah, Rafe. You're such a man."
"And I'm going to take that as a compliment."
Clearing her throat, Ephani finally sobered. "There's a few things you need to understand about Celena."
"You mean something other than she's nuts?"
Ephani tsked at him over the phone. "She's not nuts."
He glanced up to the ceiling. No doubt Celena was up there right now doing something extremely odd in order to protect him, the immortal warrior. "I think I'll reserve my opinion."
"Trust me, Blackbeard. She's not nuts."
"Then what is she?"
"Scared." The word surprised him, Celena certainly didn't act that way. "Have you tried to ask her anything about her family?"
