by Michele Hauf
Kyler’s heart softened. Perhaps his manner wasn’t all manufactured merely to get a woman into his bed. The man did have a heart and genuine care for women.
A bright red scarf with gold chains printed along the edges caught her eye. Kyler had never spent so much money on clothes. And a silly little scarf priced at five hundred euros?
“I’ll take it,” she said and handed over Dante’s credit card.
* * *
After the old woman left on her granddaughter’s arm, Dante made another phone call. He intimated to the water taxi driver that he required discretion, and he tossed in a subtle vampiric thrall for good measure. A generous sum secured a boat ride at midnight at a dock beneath a private residence.
Kyler exited the shop with a bright orange bag dangling from her wrist and a sweep of her hair over a shoulder. A pleased woman. He would go down on his knees right now if she asked it of him.
But she did not. Stopping before him, she shoved a hand to her hip. “What was the phone call about?”
“I called my tribe leader. Wanted info about contacting the Council. I think they should be told about King being vampire.”
“Who or what is the Council?”
“They are an overseeing, governing body for all paranormals in the mortal realm. They keep a close eye on what’s up and have been known to act swiftly in the event of heinous goings-on.”
“Hmm...well, we’re still not sure that the King I am friends with is the one you know about.”
“Really?” He dared her to protest, but instead she started walking down the sidewalk.
He jumped up to follow, and she handed back the credit card, which he tucked in his back pocket.
“I believe King presents a threat to you,” he offered as they strode beneath the shady tree canopy. He gestured they turn right toward his palazzo.
“And since when have you designated yourself my protector? Maybe I don’t need protecting? Maybe King and I are lovers, as you’ve guessed. I could be running home to my lover to place the egg in his hands, and then we’ll turn around and stab a stake in your heart.”
Dante clutched a hand over his heart. “You wound me with your nervous lies.”
Because she was lying, putting up a front, a good face. She wasn’t headed to a lover’s arms. In fact, Dante found it hard to believe that Kyler had had an affair with the vicious, vampire-killing bastard he knew about. But she had been transformed by him, so they had shared some measure of intimacy.
“You fear him,” he countered and then picked up his steps to match her sudden increased pace. “You can be honest with me, Kyler. Don’t you want my help?”
“I...” She paused after they’d crossed the street before his palazzo. Her sigh was enough of an answer.
He wouldn’t press. “Come on. We can save the maudlin emotional stuff for when we’re safely on French ground. I’ve secured passage to the Veneto at midnight. You ready to do this?”
She nodded. “Lead the way.”
* * *
Once safely on the Veneto, Dante helped Kyler up from the boat and paid the driver. By the time he turned around to clasp her hand, he saw her dashing across the parking lot, backpack swinging over one shoulder.
Tugging at his snugly knotted tie, he muttered, “Does she really think she can make off with it so easily as that?”
Taking off after the headstrong not-a-thief, who may have stolen more from him than he was willing to admit, Dante quickly gained on her. He grabbed her arm, swinging her around. “Really?”
She kicked his shin. A move so surprising, he took the full brunt of the pain, hissing and stumbling backward. Again, she took off in a sprint away from him.
Much as he could simply allow her to run off with the prize, he was dedicated to keeping it out of the wrong hands.
“Sorry, Kyler, but you are forcing my hand. Things are going to get rough.”
He sped into a run, bypassing Kyler, then stopping abruptly right in her path. This time he watched for a sneaky kick, and when she again lifted her foot to deliver a blow, he swung upward, clocking her under the jaw.
“Had to be done,” he said as he caught her falling body and swung it over his shoulder. He patted her ass, which wobbled about ear level. “You’ll forgive me.”
Chapter 12
Kyler woke with a start. She shook her head. The world sort of fuzzed back into motion. She didn’t hear any noise, save for the soft squidge of her rubber-soled shoes moving on what must be a leather sofa. Muted daylight beamed through a window, and she winced. She spied Dante sitting in a chair by that window, fingers steepled before his chest, casually observing her.
This wasn’t—they’d left Venice via a private water taxi. How had she...was that the top of the Eiffel Tower that she saw out the window in the distance? Why did the view look familiar?
“You kidnapped me!”
Dante shrugged. “Had to be done. You wouldn’t have made it this far if I’d left you on your own in the Veneto. Wolves, you know.”
“Wolves, my—” With a swear word on her tongue, she looked around and blinked. “Wait. This is my place!” No wonder the scenery looked familiar. “What the heck? How did you—”
“I have my ways.”
“Your ways? You looked me up? I don’t have my address listed anywhere. How did you...”
He nodded toward the coffee table, on which sat her cell phone. Of course her address was in the contacts. She used that to tell Siri how to get her home when she got lost in Paris. Which was often. It was a miracle the tech noob had accomplished such a search.
“Why did you bring me here?”
“Simple. You have a place in Paris. I do not.” He shrugged. “Made sense. Nice digs. If a bit...sparse.”
So she wasn’t much for decorating. She had all the furniture a person needed; couch, table, chair, a bed. A fake ficus even stood in the corner by the window. It needed dusting, though.
“You bastard.” She sat up and gave her head a good shake. “You drugged me?”
“Had to be done. The trip took a few hours and I couldn’t have you waking up and attacking me before we got to Paris.”
She pulled the tight blue shirt away from her chest and looked down at her bra and breasts.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Checking to make sure you didn’t molest me.”
“Please, Kyler, if I wanted to molest you, I could do that with your permission. And you’d certainly remember whether or not it happened.”
She dropped her shirt. “You have an inflated sense of your mastery over women.”
“Do I?”
She sighed. No, he did not. He was actually a skilled and charming master with women. With touching them, and seducing them, and licking them, and—she hated him.
Again.
“Get out.” She stood and wandered into the kitchen, where she filled a glass of water under the faucet. Her mouth felt dry and tasted metallic as if she’d been sucking on a horseshoe. What kind of drug had he used on her? What could knock a vampire out for the journey from the Veneto to Paris?
“Not going anywhere, I’m afraid. I’m your guest now. No place to live, remember?”
“I hear there are plenty of hotels in Paris. I know you and your black credit card can probably find a nice, cozy bed.”
“I’m here to stay, like it or not. Now, let’s figure out what we’re going to do about you and King.”
She choked on a swallow of water. Gripping the glass tightly, she asked through a tight jaw, “Where’s the egg?”
He gestured toward the coffee table. She’d not noticed the sparkling Fabergé egg sitting there when she’d gotten up in a huff and stomped in the other direction to the kitchen.
“I’m bringing it to King.” She
set down the glass with determination. Then she could wash her hands of this mess. “No.” On second thought. “I can’t. I...” She shivered as her heart stuttered. “I don’t know what to do anymore. What if he really is a hunter?”
“He is,” Dante said as he strolled into the kitchen and stood before her.
Arms crossed, peering down at her, he looked stunning in what must be a new gray suit with a subtle violet tie. Smoldering was a word that popped into her brain. The man was too damn sexy for her own good.
“And I’m glad you’ve switched to indecision about him,” he continued. “Means you’re starting to think for yourself.”
“I always think for myself. It’s not like he’s got some kind of magical control over me because I’m his blood child.” She pushed by the fully armored Casanova, marched out into the living room and picked up the egg. She toyed with the bottom part of the shell, wondering how it opened, but was mostly looking for a way to occupy her hands. “And I don’t need your help with King.”
“You do, and I won’t take no for an answer. So set your bullish independence aside and allow me to play the rescuing hero, will you?”
She scoffed. “I don’t see any shining armor or a sword.”
“Is that what denotes a hero in your mind? I thought swords and armor went out with the medieval ages. Aren’t pistols and magic more in vogue nowadays?”
“Have you either?” she asked, challenging his snark.
“Not on me, no. Just a sense of cleverness and a will to survive. But, as well, I am compelled to protect the damsel.”
Again she made a scoffing noise. “Your suits are your armor.”
He tugged at the lapels of the single-breasted concoction. She bet it had cost him thousands. In her opinion? Worth every sigh-inducing euro.
“But the whole hero thing doesn’t suit you as well as that fabric does,” she said. “I don’t think it aligns with your love-’em-and-leave-’em act. I mean, really. If you actually cared about a woman, it would throw your entire lifestyle out of whack. I’ll be fine, Dante. I’m a big girl.”
“A big girl who allowed herself to be kidnapped and flown to another country. And, I might note, could have had a valuable objet d’art stolen from her in the process.”
“Tell me how the egg opens,” she said, avoiding his obvious assessment of her less-than-skillful actions. The fact he was still here, with the egg, was remarkable. It proved he wasn’t willing to simply walk away from her. Not just yet.
So she wasn’t the strongest or the bravest or even the smartest. But taking help from Dante D’Arcangelo? She didn’t want to be the one to ask for help. She wanted to be the one who earned it because he couldn’t resist.
“I will not give you instructions on how to open the egg,” he said. “I and one other person are the only vampires who know how to open it. I’m not inclined to share that responsibility.”
“But if I hand it over to King, how will he open it?”
“You’re not going to do that, are you? Kyler, do you really think he’ll kiss you on the forehead and send you on your way with eternity in your arsenal?”
No, she now suspected King would kill her. With a stake. Because if he was as Dante said—a vampire hunter—that changed their relationship status from friends to enemies. And that freaked her out.
She plopped onto the sofa, clutching the egg like a doll to her chest. Her cell phone rang, and she picked it up. “It’s him,” she said. She answered with a nervous warble to her tone, “Yes?”
Of course, King would know she was in Paris. Because he was her creator, he could sense when she was near. He also knew where she lived.
She leaned forward, hoping to give Dante a clue this was a private conversation but knowing he wouldn’t get the hint.
“You’re back in Paris. I’m pleased.” King’s voice was deep and measured. It had always given her good chills. So much so, she’d wanted to have sex more than the one time, yet he’d never offered or given her a clue he was interested in anything but their initial hookup. Not even on the night he had transformed her.
Now his voice made her heart thump and her fingers curl. And not in a good way. “Have you the egg?”
Dante walked around and stood before her.
“Yes?” She couldn’t lie, but it came out as a confused mix of truth and fiction anyway.
“I’ll come to you.”
“No, I—”
The phone clicked off.
Kyler met Dante’s inquiring gaze. “He’s on his way here.”
“Shit.” He bracketed her face with his hands. “Are you with me or against me, Kyler? Do you want me to protect you from King?”
She nodded. “Yes, I think—”
“Don’t think. You either do or you don’t.”
In his eyes she found a glint of something he probably never shared with women. Hope. Urgency. Promise. And, bone-deep, she truly felt like the damsel who needed saving.
“I do. Please. I’m feeling less and less friendly towards King. But he’ll be here soon. He doesn’t live far away. How can we not give him the egg? And with you here—won’t he try to stake you?”
“Most likely. We’ve met once before. He knows me on sight, I’m sure. Though I have recently cut off what was once very long hair.”
Dante with long hair? Kyler’s heart skipped a beat.
He smirked at what must have been her swooning look of desire. “Do you have any weapons?”
She shook her head. Never had any reason for a weapon. The idea of owning a gun creeped her out. She wasn’t the sort who thought she’d ever need to protect herself. And since she’d become vampire, her strength and quick reaction skills allowed her to extricate herself from most iffy encounters.
“King.” Dante stood in the middle of the room, glancing about, but she sensed his brain was working on overdrive. “What can you tell me about him? Who is he?” he insisted.
She shook her head. “I didn’t even know he was a vampire slayer.”
“Right. Uh, is he baptized?”
“Yes! He told me about the whole baptism thing, that vamps who were born mortal and have been baptized have to avoid religious artifacts.”
“Good. You have any religious items in this place? A cross?”
She shook her head.
“No Bible, or a catechism?”
“There’s a Bible in my bedside table.” It used to be her mother’s. “I haven’t been able to remove it since being transformed.”
“Excellent.” He dashed into her bedroom and returned with the small, black leather-bound Bible. She’d carried it with her everywhere following her mother’s death. Now she couldn’t touch it because religious objects burned baptized vampires. Apparently Dante had not received that sacrament.
“It’s not much. But it’ll have to serve.” He glanced at the egg. “Hide that in the kitchen. But make access easy, in case we have to run.”
She grabbed the egg. In the kitchen she placed it in the cupboard under the sink beneath a tangle of chrome pipes. When Kyler stood, a knock on the front door prickled up the hairs on her arms.
“I’ll get it.” Dante tucked the Bible into his waistband. Arms crooked at his sides as if he were a gunslinger waiting for the drop of the hat, he announced, “This is going to get interesting.”
* * *
Dante opened the door, and the man ready to step across the threshold paused. Of course, King had been in Kyler’s home before; he didn’t need an invite to again cross the private threshold.
At the sight of Dante, King’s jaw dropped open momentarily, then closed. He tilted his head, cracking his neck, and assumed a calm yet imposing stature as he matched Dante’s height and build. “Dante D’Arcangelo. This is interesting.”
“As is the information I’ve gleane
d about the founder of the Order of the Stake.”
“Is that so?” King sneered. “It’s not a secret. The Council has all the information on me.”
“Oh, I doubt that very much.”
“Believe what you wish.” He walked in, roughly brushing shoulders with Dante. “Kyler, what is this man doing here?”
“I, uh, met him in Italy. He helped me to get out of Venice when the docks were being surveilled.”
King drew a long look over Dante. He was dressed in dark suede pants and dress shirt, with a long gray canvas coat. Something a hunter would wear. “And yet he’s still with you. Explain that to me.”
“I sensed Kyler needs protection,” Dante said. “From you.”
When King took a step forward, Dante moved in front him, blocking him from getting closer to Kyler. “I understand you’ve asked Kyler to obtain a rare, long-missing Fabergé egg for you?”
King took a step back and slid a hand onto his hip, pushing back his coat to reveal a holster strapped to his thigh. In the holster shone a titanium stake that Dante knew the knights of the Order used to slay vampires.
Kyler sucked in a gasp at the sight. Good then. She now had proof the man she claimed was a friend—her blood master—was a lying bastard.
“Where is it?” King asked, his eyes fixed on Kyler. Dante sensed the old vampire would not miss a flinch from him.
“You lied to me,” Kyler said. “You never told me you slay vampires. How could you do that? Why? Do you really kill your own kind?”
“My profession has nothing to do with obtaining the egg. I’ll ask you to hand it over immediately, or your dog on a leash here will take a stake to the heart.”
“No,” Kyler said. “I won’t do it. I thought we were friends.”
“You did?” King smirked. “I’ve never claimed friendship. Master of your creation, certainly, but never friends. You will hand over the egg. I thought you wanted to pay me back for the great gift I bestowed upon you? What about eternity?”
“Dante says the egg doesn’t promise eternity.”
