by Connie Hall
He strode beside her, looking straight ahead. “It won’t help matters. You are not receptive to constructive criticism.”
“I take it as well as the next guy.” She leaped in front of him, blocking his way. “So tell me.”
His eyes bored into hers with that soul-stealing look of his, as if he could reach down inside her. “He is not right for you.”
“No man is.” She hugged her carry-on tightly to her chest.
“Love will find you when you are not looking for it.”
“Can you get any more cryptic?” She rolled her eyes.
He blinked, a sure sign he was annoyed and struggling for patience. “Did you set your sights on this Akando, or did he court you?”
Takala wanted to say Akando hit on her first, but she had gone after him with her feminine guns loaded. She had loved him—or so she’d thought. But there was no use lying to a guy who could read her mind, so she said, “No, I went after him.”
“Have you asked yourself why you feel so insecure that you need to be in a relationship, even if it is only one-sided?”
“You heard what he said. He said he loved me.”
“He says that now, because he lost you. He doesn’t love you. He only wants you as a possession. Once he gets you, he’ll pursue his passions elsewhere.”
“Thank you for your insight.” Takala heard the material of her carry-on stretching and popping, and she had to stop squeezing it.
“You want honesty, I offer it. Has it been this way with all your relationships?”
“They end badly. I push them all away or something,” she said, forcing out the truth. “I think it’s going okay, then wham-o, they break up with me, and I’m standing there hitting my head against a wall.”
He touched her chin, running his hands along her jawline. Takala felt tingles shoot down her neck, and she gazed down at his tie, no longer able to make eye contact. She felt suddenly light-headed, her legs and arms prickling like they had gone numb and the feeling was just returning. The jet lag was really taking over.
He stared at his hand as if realizing he was touching her, and he stepped back and said, “You are looking for love and acceptance. You have abandonment issues. Until you accept that you are worthy of love and you do not need to force men to love you, you’ll not find happiness in a relationship. You will only drive men from you.”
Had Takala wanted love so much that she pushed all men away? Was he right? She didn’t want to admit it, but he could be. He wasn’t being smug about it. He looked pensive and sincere, and he spoke with the authority of two thousand years of living experience. It was hard facing her own character flaws, hearing it from a stranger, a heartless vampire. He could be wrong about Akando. He had said he loved her. But hadn’t he cheated on her?
She swallowed hard and said, “I’ll think it over.” She fell back in at his side and they walked to Room 723.
He pointed at the door and handed her the pass card. “This is your room.”
She felt a tinge of disappointment that they weren’t sharing a room, but she didn’t say that. Logically she knew that was a horrible idea, but her body was disagreeing with her. “Where is your room?” she asked, hoping it was in a different hotel, a safe distance away.
“Across the hall.”
Takala gulped and looked at the door to 724. It was about four steps away. Great!
“Now rest. I’ll wake you before sunset.”
She turned to say thank you, but he’d already disappeared, the door behind her shutting with a final click.
Takala used the card key and stepped inside. Why did she feel as if she had somehow connected with Striker? That advice. She would have resented anyone else telling her that, but she felt bared to the bone when she was talking to him, raked over the coals. He could be right about her. A scary thought, indeed.
She walked into the bathroom, found her toothbrush and paste and brushed for a good ten minutes. Then she turned on the shower and disrobed. She needed to bathe, crawl into bed, and hope that he was wrong about her. But she had a gut feeling he was right. And it was her mother’s fault. All of it. This woman of whom she couldn’t let go. What if Lilly was her mother? All signs pointed to it. Striker had warned her about Lilly. Takala had all but decided to let it go, not tell Lilly a thing.
Still, she couldn’t go home without making sure Lilly was safe. She wasn’t about to let her mother get caught in the crossfire between Striker and Raithe. No, she couldn’t allow that. She’d have to find a way to warn Lilly and get her to safety. But after seeing the handiwork of Laeyar, she was torn between stopping him, possibly finding a lead to Raithe and helping Lilly. Raithe needed stopping; she was on that wagon, but not at Lilly’s expense. She just had to pick the right moments and make them both happen. Somehow.
Takala stepped into the hot shower, and as she soaped up her body, the memory of Striker kissing her came back full force. She groaned, trying to force it away, but it was impossible. He had kissed her twice. The first time on the plane seemed like a dream, but bits of it came to her, the shiver of excitement, his will forcing her to succumb to him. The second time in the bar she had given in to her passion and she had wanted more. No denying it. She craved a taste of the danger she felt, that overpowering sense that he would devour her whole. She’d never experienced that with a guy. Never. It was always her passion that consumed the guy she was with. What would it feel like to make love to a vampire who felt more desire than she could even dream about? Thoughts of it sent chill bumps through her, and she turned the water to a hotter setting.
Across the hall, Striker listened to Brawn and Katalinga updating him on Culler’s movements. Thanks to the cleaners, Katalinga was her normal, healthy, efficient, accommodating self.
“She ordered room service twice and hasn’t moved,” Katalinga said, staring down at her phone with her cat eyes.
“Called anyone?” Striker asked.
“No,” Brawn added.
“Very well. Keep up the good work, and no slip-ups.”
“Right, sir.” Brawn couldn’t draw his gaze from Katalinga’s butt as they left his room.
Striker made a mental note to switch the partners. Sexual attraction among agents was dangerous, not to mention it ruined their efficiency. If he was going to track down Raithe, he needed all his agents working at one hundred percent.
He found himself drawn to the door, mesmerized by what was going on in Takala’s room. He could hear her taking a shower, her uneven breaths, the pounding of her heart, sense the temperature rise of her body. He imagined standing in the shower with her, touching her, the sweet scent of her damp clean skin. This was torture. He had told his staff to put him across the hall from her so he could keep an eye on her. But he could have left that to his agents and stayed in the B.O.S.P. safe house in the Châtelet area of Paris.
He kept a casket there with his homeland soil in it. He could have slept very soundly miles away. He should have been prudent, but he wanted to stay close to Takala. He couldn’t trust her not to get in his way or do something stupid like let Culler know that he was watching her. He had to keep her under control, and he couldn’t trust anyone else to do it.
Takala’s strange resemblance to his sister plagued him. He had tossed that painful image of his sister away long ago, but Takala had dredged it up. And he was feeling again, experiencing the painful twitches of having loved his family, like needles being sewn through his heart. Takala, with her beautiful proud face, was a constant reminder of that bittersweet time in his life. He wanted no reminders of love. None. He just wanted Raithe.
He ground his jaws together and walked to his overnight bag. He pulled out a plastic pouch. The freeze-dried blood looked like the color of liver. He made a face at it, then poured cold water from a pitcher into the bag. He kneaded it with his hands, thinking of the sweet scent of Takala’s blood.
This desire for her was becoming an obsession. He had to end it. Here and now. Perhaps that was another reason he’d taken this room: to pro
ve he was above wanting her. He put the bag in the microwave, hit forty-five seconds. It beeped, and he took the bag out.
He raised the pouch to his lips, bit the bag, sucked it down in gulps. The metallic stale taste didn’t come close to fresh blood, but it kept him alive. He retracted his fangs and tossed the empty container into the recycle bucket, then loosened his tie and fell back on the bed.
He could hear the shower stop. He envisioned her naked body wet, the pulsing of veins, the sweet taste of her mouth. He rolled on his side and stuffed the pillow over his head.
Chapter 13
Takala ran for her life. She held Lilly’s hand as they dashed toward the Eiffel Tower, sprinting for the steps. The tower’s lights gleamed out into the darkness like thousands of beckoning eyes, guiding their way.
“This way.” Takala pulled Lilly toward the stairs, hearing pursuing footfalls getting closer and closer.
“No, this way.” Lilly jerked her forward to an elevator.
“No, Mom.”
“You never listen. We’ll die! He’ll catch us. I don’t want you to die because of me.”
“I won’t.” Takala felt the determination to keep her mother alive like an iron anvil expanding in her chest. “Come on, faster.”
Takala forced her mother to the stairs, past signs for the restaurants inside the tower. Up, up they ran, so many flights. She couldn’t breathe fast enough, couldn’t catch her breath.
The footsteps behind them pounded louder still.
“Oh my God, he’s going to get us,” Lilly said.
“No, he’s not.” Takala reached a landing and pulled up short.
Striker blocked their way. He had the most evil leer she’d ever seen on any face, fangs exposed, eyes solid black. “You’re here. Let me help.” He extended his hand.
“Don’t take it!” Lilly pulled Takala back.
Footsteps stopped on the stairwell behind them.
Takala wheeled and saw Striker. Two Strikers. This one had his fangs bared, blood dripping from the corners of his mouth. He said, “He’s evil. Take my hand. I’ll help you.”
Lilly screamed, “Never!”
The Striker in front of her commanded, “Takala, come with me.”
She felt a kind of tractor beam taking over her body, and she knew it was Striker’s will. He forced her toward him. Her hand wasn’t connected to her body; she couldn’t vary the path. Any second she’d touch his fingers, and she knew something dreadful would happen. She trembled and shook as she tried to fight his power.
“Trust me,” he demanded.
Lilly seized Takala’s hand. “No, you can’t have my daughter!”
“She’s mine already.” The Striker behind them grabbed Lilly and tossed her over the railing.
Takala still had a death lock on Lilly’s hand; the weight of Lilly’s body jerked her to the railing.
“Don’t let go!” Lilly yelled up at Takala, thrashing against the metal tower railings.
Takala couldn’t use her strength to pull Lilly up. What was wrong? All she could do was hold on. She felt Lilly’s fingers slipping from her own. No, no, no!
Then Lilly was flying, screaming, her face contorted and bloated by the force of gravity sucking her down.
Takala screamed…
She felt someone shaking her, and Takala thrashed at them.
Suddenly her arms were trapped in a vise. She opened her eyes and stared into Striker’s face.
Takala realized she was still screaming, and she closed her mouth, her heart hammering its way out of her chest, her body covered in perspiration. Striker held her so tightly she found it hard to breathe.
When she could speak, she said, “Let me go. Now.”
He backed off and dropped his arms. He looked wounded by the glare she was shooting him. “I heard you scream,” he said.
“I thought you needed permission to enter a room.”
“That’s Hollywood. I go wherever I want.”
“Where’s Lilly?” Takala scrambled out the opposite side of the bed from where Striker sat.
She realized she was wearing only her bra and panties when the cold air hit her skin. And to judge by the sudden fascinated expression on his face, he was enjoying the view. “Stop looking at me like that. Where’s Lilly? I want to see her.”
“What is the matter with you? Are you going to let a nightmare turn you into a raving lunatic?”
“I just need to see Lilly.”
“I cannot let you do that.”
“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do.” Takala was flinging clothes out of her carry-on. She found a pair of jeans and a sweater and slid into them; then she was pulling on her boots. His grin had vanished, but he was still devouring the sight of her as she said, “I need to know that she’s okay.”
“I give you my word she’s all right.”
“I have to see for myself.” Takala picked up a brush and quickly ran it through her hair, feeling his gaze following her every move.
“Who are you? You are not the same woman I left at the door three hours ago.”
“Who are you, underneath all that charm and the starched suits?” She paused, aware she might be going a little mad. But that dream. “I must see Lilly.” Takala headed for the door.
Striker was there in seconds, blocking her way. “I won’t have my one lead to Raithe compromised because of you.”
She realized his irresistibly handsome face had more color in it; his lips were red instead of pink. He must have fed. Who did he have for dinner?
The thought irritated her as she said, “I won’t tell her about you. I’ll say I searched for her hotel and found her. I just need to make sure she’s okay.”
“She is fine. I have agents watching her every move.”
“That’s what you keep saying.”
“I will not argue with you about this, but I will let you see her.” He pulled out his cell phone.
One day he would see that she didn’t need his permission. “How do I know this isn’t a trick?”
“I could have made you believe it.” He shot her a superior look.
That’s what he thought. She wasn’t about to tell him that his hypnotic suggestions had no sway over her. She only stared hard at him and said, “All the more reason not to trust you.”
The purple of his eyes turned the color of coal. “Unfortunately, I am the only person you can trust.”
She searched his eyes and saw a depthless dark void that could pull her down into it in seconds if she let it. She heard herself saying, “All right. Let me see her.”
His eyes narrowed slightly in thought, then Lilly’s likeness materialized on the one-inch screen. She was lying on her bed, watching television. Prevalent dark circles had formed under her eyes, and she looked weary.
“How does this work?” She motioned toward the phone.
“Crystal energy. All I have to do is think about her, and the image displays here.” He pointed to the small screen. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Takala.”
“You would if I got in your way of getting Raithe. I think you’d lie to the devil to get Raithe.”
“How can I gain your trust?” he said, that confident glibness gone from his voice.
“You have to earn it.”
“I thought I had.”
“It’ll take more than a few confidences and that charming vampire charisma you have.” Takala gulped, remembering how she’d opened up to him. He’d been kind and patient the way he had listened and offered her advice. Up until now, he’d only been nice, aside from glamouring her and the arrogant way he bossed her around. It might be his suave way of manipulating her, too.
She stared long and hard at the image on the screen. Lilly had sneezed, and she was wiping her nose with a tissue. “Is another agent’s phone image the same?”
He nodded.
“I’d like to see one.”
He flung open his phone and barked an order. Immediately a knock sounded at the door.
Takala answered
it. Brawn paused at the door, eying them both as if unsure why he’d been summoned.
Takala said, “I need to see your image of Lilly.”
Brawn quickly pulled out his phone and showed her. Lilly balling up the tissue she had used and tossing it into a trash can. Two points. She smiled to herself.
Takala stared at the image for a moment. Then she felt satisfied. She said, “Thanks.”
“Sure.” Brawn nodded and left.
Striker said, “The sun sets in twenty minutes. Laeyar will be stirring.”
“We better hurry.” Takala grabbed her coat, then remembered something. “Hey, I want my gun back.”
“Look in your carry-on.”
Takala scrounged through the few rolled-up shirts and jeans she’d packed at the bottom of the bag and found the Glock. She checked the clip. Empty.
“Is this some kind of joke?”
“I do not call keeping you safe a joke.”
“Hey, I have a permit to carry a concealed weapon. I know how to use one.” She shook the gun and empty clip at him.
“Unless you have silver bullets, a gun is useless against the evil we are fighting. Your silver bracelets will keep you safer than that weapon.”
Takala knew arguing with a know-it-all, arrogant vampire was useless. She’d find bullets somewhere. She popped the clip back in and stuffed the gun in the holster she’d made for her left boot. The many silver bracelets on her wrist rattled and caused him to glower at her.
“You’re still carrying it?” he asked.
“Feel naked without it.” She saw his gaze languidly comb her body as if he were trying envision her with no clothes. A tingling frizzed through her belly. She tried to ignore it while she stuffed her arms in her coat and flicked her hair out from beneath the collar. “You got a problem with it?”
“Not if you keep it concealed.”
“Don’t worry, I only flash it around in a crowd.” She pursed her lips at him and stepped out the door, leaving him to glower at her.
“You are aware we’re being followed?” Takala swiped lipstick across her bottom lip, then gazed to the right of her reflection in the passenger-side mirror. Yep, the two headlights were still there. The car had been following them since they left the hotel.
