Cursed Kiss (Paranormal Romance)

by Taylor, Helen Scott

  "What's going on, Mr. Vlad? Why have you brought me here?"

  Luka ignored his meal, leaned back, and studied her. "Taldom is a place, Miss Moray."

  "So that's where my Taldom's blood comes from?"

  He nodded.

  "Great. Where is it?"

  Luka rubbed the handle of his fork thoughtfully. "Taldom is a place where mythology comes to life."

  "You're saying it's a fantasy world?"

  "If you mean an imaginary place, no. It's a fantasy world that is as real as the world you live in."

  "Shoot," Clare whispered under her breath as she realized Luka Vlad might be a few dimes short of a dollar. Had this whole trip to Europe been a massive waste of time? "So the Taldom's blood I want comes from this fantasy world?"

  "Yes."

  Clare's heart sank as what he said was obviously crazy. Although, Taldom's blood must be real. Her grandmother had used it in Moray products. "Where is Taldom?" Even if Vlad was a nutcase, he might still give her the lead she needed to find the herb or whatever Taldom's blood was.

  "That is difficult to explain. The dimensions of Taldom and Earth exist in the same space. Where the veil between the worlds is thin, it's possible to catch glimpses of Taldom."

  Clare's eyebrows shot up. The man had definitely been reading too much speculative fiction. She would be better off heading to Paris and doing some research there. She certainly didn't have time to waste weeks holed up in the French countryside doing whatever Vlad had planned for her. With a hand to her mouth, she pretended to yawn. "Excuse me. I'm suddenly very tired. I think I'll retire."

  She moved to push back her chair and Vlad gripped her hand. "You must believe me, Clare."

  A streak of sensation ran up her arm and seemed to burrow deep into her chest. The room shimmered and blurred. She clutched at the table, suddenly dizzy.

  Luka snatched back his hand and gradually the spinning room settled, and she focused her eyes.

  "I apologize." He raised his palms. "Pablo, please see the lady to her room."

  Pablo quickly circled the table, and steadied her with an arm around her shoulders.

  "What happened? I feel faint," she said.

  "Let me take you upstairs. After a good night's sleep you'll be fine."

  Chills raced across her skin as Pablo helped her up. Her legs were wobbly and weak as a newborn's. Had they drugged her?

  "Clare," Luka said, a note of command in his voice, "it's important you understand how vital it is that you fulfill the task I've planned for you."

  She blinked at him in confusion. Her brain felt as though it was stuffed with cotton wool. "What task?"

  "I need you to help me cross to Taldom. Do you understand?" Luka's eyes reflected the candlelight like little pieces of fire.

  She was so weary. It was impossible to hold up her eyelids. "What've you done to me?"

  "You're the only person who can help me, Clare Moray. You owe me this."

  His words drifted through her mind but made no sense.

  "Look at me, Clare."

  She blinked at Luka as if in a dream.

  "You return me to Taldom, and I'll give you some of my blood."

  Her legs folded and Pablo caught her. With a murmur of reassurance, he pulled her against the solid warmth of his body. Then darkness welled up and swallowed her.

  ***

  Terrified of losing control and draining too much psychic energy, Luka had not touched a woman for years. Clare's skin beneath his fingers had been soft, warm, enticing, and focused his mind on all he was missing in his life. Yet he wished he had not touched her in a moment of distraction. The last thing he wanted to do was cause her harm.

  Pablo carried the unconscious woman upstairs and Luka followed, carrying her shoes. Her long silky hair hung within reach. If he raised his arm, he could run his fingers through the strands. But he would not touch her again—he prided himself on his control and his ability to rise above the need that ate at him.

  At the second floor, Luka opened Clare's bedroom door and threw back the bedcovers. Pablo laid her limp body on the mattress. Her eyelashes formed perfect dark crescents against her flushed cheeks. With her lips slightly parted, she looked vulnerable and desirable.

  Luka sucked in a breath of frustrated longing and tossed the covers over her.

  "Should we undress her?" Pablo said.

  "No." Luka grabbed Pablo's arm as he reached to touch Clare's face. "Leave her alone."

  Pablo pulled out of his grip and defiantly ran a fingertip over her cheek. "She's very beautiful. Perhaps we could use her next time I feed you."

  "Hell, no." Luka turned away. "I said leave her alone and I meant it." If he couldn't touch her, he certainly didn't want to watch her with Pablo.

  Pablo continued to study her. "Are you sure? You need to feed soon."

  "What part of no are you not getting?"

  Pablo sighed. He straightened her covers and lifted the small gold charm, hung on a chain around her neck. "Look, amigo. She's wearing your dragon."

  Luka clenched his fist, feeling the bite of the gold ring that bore the image of his family's bane. He didn't want to be reminded of that either. He'd have to deal with it all soon enough. He led Pablo from the room and closed the door firmly with a reproving glance at his friend. They would not take advantage of the young Moray woman, or at least not any more than was necessary.

  ***

  Edward Gregore waited by the huge fireplace in the disused office at the Moray production facility in Amsterdam. Being careful not to drop Monique's Book of Shadows, he twisted his wrist and checked his watch. Ten thirty-two. Monique was late.

  The old brickwork at the back of the flue shimmered and then disappeared. On the other side of the window between worlds, Monique Moray raised her dagger and sketched the cockroach sigil she'd assigned as Edward's mark. When she dropped the point of the blade, the wall distended and pulled him through the gray mist of nothingness between the worlds into her bedroom in Taldom.

  His sense of smell was poor, but the metallic scent of blood reached him the moment he inhaled the foreign air. He glanced around to see a naked man manacled to metal rings in the wall beside Monique's canopied bed. His skin was chalky with bluish tinges around the mouth and eyes. Purple bruises and seeping slash wounds covered his body. Only wisps of psychic energy remained to show the man had once lived.

  Edward was relieved he was not made of flesh.

  "You have news?" Monique snatched her book from his hand and checked it for damage.

  "Clare met Mr. Vlad and is now at Château Montgatine."

  "Excellent. She took the bait." Monique strolled to the dressing table, wrapped her book in a square of black silk, and tied it with ribbon.

  "Two or three weeks and you should have Vlad here, where you want him," Edward continued, trying to gauge Monique's mood. He could not die like a human but she had ways of causing him pain when she wanted to.

  Monique reapplied her scarlet lipstick and dabbed it with a cloth. "I'll contact his relatives and finalize the trade."

  "How soon will they supply the venom to start production of the new product?"

  Monique examined herself in the mirror, stretched back her lips, and checked her small, white teeth. "Give me a few weeks. Darling Luka and I have unfinished business. I intend to settle that before I hand him over."

  Edward glanced at the man's body adorning Monique's wall and wondered if there would be anything left of Vlad once she'd finished with him. "Will you return to Earth to supervise development of the new product?"

  Monique rounded on him and he stepped back smartly.

  "You saw my skin last time I tried that. I'd rather be dead than old and wrinkly."

  "After Clare has sent Vlad back, you don't need her anymore, do you?" Edward wanted Clare, wanted her badly. She'd made him look stupid and he'd like to teach her a lesson.

  "Clare's proved far more resourceful than I expected. She'll be useful if I can persuade her to join us."


  "She didn't realize we'd set her up."

  "No, but she snatched the president's job out from under your nose. Neither of us saw that coming." Monique laughed nastily. "She has more balls than you do, but that isn't difficult."

  Edward seethed with a pain he had no name for. He yearned to press his hand over Monique's scarlet lips, pinch her delicate nostrils, and watch her flail around until she was dead.

  He might not get to play with Monique, but he would have Clare—eventually—whether Monique agreed or not.

  Edward nodded at the dead man. "Is that something I should know about?"

  "Just a stable boy who caught my eye," Monique said with a casual flip of her hand.

  Something dark seared the edges of Edward's awareness, threatening to swallow him. It was inside his head, something from the past. Try as he might, he couldn't remember what it was.

  Chapter Three

  Clare gradually came to and stretched against the silky sheets. Normally she didn't sleep well in a hotel bed, but last night she'd slept like the dead.

  Through the veil of her lashes she watched the ruby and gold drapes flutter. A gentle breeze moved over her skin, carrying with it the fragrance of moist earth and sun-warmed vines.

  "Oh no." She was in France. She pressed her fingers to her forehead as she pictured Luka's face illuminated by candlelight. What had the men done to her, spiked her drink with a date rape drug?

  Biting her lip, she glanced at the pillow beside hers. The silky cover appeared plump and untouched. If there'd been a man in the bed, he'd tidied up after himself better than any man she'd ever met.

  She lifted the covers to find herself fully clothed and her last hint of concern faded. So they hadn't taken advantage of her, but she had lost consciousness. That had never happened before. It was too much of a coincidence that it should happen now without a good cause.

  Memories of the previous evening drifted through her mind, but holding on to them was like trying to remember a dream. Luka had rambled on about some fantasy world. Taldom?

  That's right. He'd tried to kid her that Taldom's blood came from an alternate dimension. That's when she'd started to feel strange and fainted—definitely too much of a coincidence. Vlad was a businessman, so this whole charade might be driven by money. Perhaps he hoped to leak the news that Moray had production problems, then buy her out at a knockdown price. Although he was definitely ill and he had seemed to believe his far-fetched story.

  Anyway, she'd been suckered. She should never have agreed to come here. But that would soon be put right. A quick shower and she was out of here.

  A glance at her phone showed it was already eleven o'clock. Clare slipped out of bed, packed, and went into the huge, white marble bathroom. Her new Moray smudge-proof, super-lash-enhancing mascara had left her with panda eyes. She grimaced at her reflection. Someone in R&D would get a strongly worded memo. With a cleansing pad, she wiped away the dark rings.

  After a quick shower, she swept her cosmetics into her makeup bag, then yanked the zipper closed as she hurried through to the bedroom. With the overnight bag on her shoulder, she collected her purse and turned to leave.

  At a tap on the door she froze, hoping whoever it was would leave if they thought she was still asleep. No such luck. The door cracked open and Pablo's dark head appeared. "Clare," he said, smiling. "You're awake."

  Pushing the door wide, he sauntered in, a tray laden with coffee, orange juice, and croissants balanced at shoulder height on his fingertips. The smell of freshly baked pastries was heavenly.

  Mouth watering, she licked her lips.

  "I knew you'd be hungry," Pablo said. "Your body's craving food to replenish itself."

  That was a strange way of putting it, but she was hungrier than usual.

  Okay, change of plan. She had time for a quick bite to eat before she left. And maybe she could find out what had caused her to pass out.

  Pablo slid the tray onto a small table near the window. Clare grabbed a pain au chocolat and bit into the flaky pastry as Pablo poured some coffee.

  After a few mouthfuls, she managed a question. "What happened to me last night? I don't remember much about dinner."

  Pablo didn't answer, his attention focused on the door. "Look. I have gifts for you." Two men weighed down with bags and boxes bearing designer names struggled into the room. Pablo directed them to lay their burdens on the bed and leave.

  He'd mentioned ordering clothes for her but this was way over the top, even if she had intended to stay here. "This is very kind of you but not necessary. I've decided to head to Paris today."

  Pablo glanced at the bag hanging over her shoulder, and worry lines appeared on his forehead. "You can't go yet."

  "Look, I might not remember much about last night, but the one thing I do remember clearly is Luka telling me that Taldom's blood comes from a fantasy world." Clare patted her lips with a napkin. "I'm sorry, Pablo. I can see he's not well, and I sympathize with the situation you're in. I've been there. I know it's difficult to deal with people who have delusions. But I haven't time to indulge his wild imaginings right now. I have a business problem to sort out that's time sensitive."

  "You don't understand at all." A note of desperation crept into Pablo's voice. "Luka isn't crazy. He needs your help with something important."

  She'd been polite, but it was time to put her foot down.

  Clare headed for the bedroom door. "Thank you for your hospitality. The house is very beautiful."

  Pablo followed. "The château staff members will stop you leaving if I ask them to."

  Clare narrowed her eyes, trying to gauge if Pablo were really serious. "I don't respond well to threats, Señor. If you're not careful, I'll head straight to the police station."

  "Mr. Vlad owns the town, Ms. Moray."

  Rich man, small town. Of course he had influence. She hadn't intended to follow through with her threat about the police anyway. All she wanted to do was hop on a train and get to Paris.

  Clare strode to the top of the stairs and steadied herself with a hand on the banister. Her legs muscles felt as though all the strength had been drained from them. Whatever had happened to her the previous evening was still affecting her. Even more reason to get the hell out of there.

  Pablo called out in French. A moment later, the two men who'd brought the parcels to her room appeared at the bottom of the steps. There was no mistaking their intent—to block her escape. They must be Vlad's security…hard expressions, dark suits, maybe even armed. She had no chance of getting past them.

  Anger, frustration, and a touch of fear twisted through her. The possibility that Luka was playing her for financial gain seemed more likely by the minute. Clare rounded on Pablo. "If Vlad thinks he can drive down Moray's share price and make a killing, he's forgetting one thing. I hold most of the shares. I'll take the damn things to my grave before I sell to him."

  Pablo blinked at her in surprise. "You think that's what you're here for?"

  "It makes sense. You hold me here so I can't find more Taldom's blood. Production of our best-selling product will have to be suspended and the share value will tumble."

  "You could not be more wrong."

  "Then tell me what's going on. If you don't, I'm going to walk down these stairs and leave, goons or no goons."

  "You had better talk to Luka."

  Clare followed Pablo down to the next floor and along the corridor. He led her to a door at the end, knocked, and entered.

  Luka was sitting at his desk working. His head jerked up as they entered. Anger overcame Clare's fear. She snapped to a halt before his antique desk, her heels clicking on the parquet floor. "I'm giving you one last chance to explain what's going on here, or I'm leaving."

  Luka stiffened, his startled gaze riveted to hers. A flash of something that looked like fear passed over his face. Why would he be frightened of her?

  His expression took the wind out of her sails. She was angry, sure, but her appearance shouldn'
t elicit that sort of reaction from the man. Yet he wasn't well. She'd forgotten for a moment and should have taken that into account.

  The anger seeped away, leaving her weary. "I'm sorry you have problems, Mr. Vlad, but I don't have time for this. Either tell me where I can find some Taldom's blood, and what I have to do to get it, or let me leave."

  "Please give me a moment. You caught me by surprise." Luka topped off his wineglass and swallowed the contents as if it were soda.

  Clare's eyebrows crept up. Maybe alcohol was his problem?

  "Has anyone mentioned how much you resemble your grandmother?"

  "All the time."

  "Yet despite the similarity in your appearance, you do not have her edge."

  Clare knew exactly what he meant. Monique had hidden her ruthless nature behind a smile, but she would do anything to get what she wanted. Yet only her grandmother's most trusted friends and her victims knew that. Which begged the question, which was Luka?

  "I thought you said you'd only met Monique once?"

  Luka clicked the lid on his fountain pen and placed it on his desk. "Did I?"

  If he'd known Monique well, that put a whole different slant on things. Instead of the stranger she'd thought him to be, he might have a personal agenda. "What's really going on here, Luka?"

  "I explained last night about Taldom."

  "Yes, well, last night's a bit of a blur."

  "You don't remember what I said?"

  "Not much." And what she did remember she hoped was a mistake.

  With a sigh, he refilled his wine and walked to the window. The crystal glass glowed like a ruby in the morning sun before he downed the contents.

  If he were an alcoholic, that might explain his strange behavior last night, along with his looking sick and holing himself up here in the French countryside. Why would a man who had so much going for him do that? "You drink too much, you know."

  He laughed without humor. "I have many problems, but wine is not one of them." He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. "I'm not of this world, Ms. Moray. I come from Taldom."

  "You mentioned that place last night, a fantasy world." She tried to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. "I thought you were joking."