“Start searching for Reynard. He should be recovering by now from his drunken stupor.”
“O.K.,” Claude said sleepily.
Stefan yawned. Ordinarily he’d be sleeping another hour or two, but when he lay back on the couch, sleep wouldn’t come. Finally, he got up, showered, shaved, and dressed -- and looked in on Julie.
He panicked when he didn’t find her in her bedroom. Cursing Claude, he forced himself to be still, reached out and looked for her with his mind. And relaxed when he found her.
He followed her mental trail, and Noodles, to the doorway of her studio, and stopped there, not wanting to disturb the picture she made.
Her expression serious, she stood in her studio, the strap of a silky blue nightshirt slipping down along her slender shoulder, apparently engrossed in the task of restoring the painting of a buxom nude perched on an easel by the window. Noodles waddled across the room and flopped at her feet, but Julie didn’t seem to notice. She wielded a slender brush in one hand, dipping it onto a palette she held easily in the other hand. Though Stefan recognized the value of the old painting, he found the artist far more arousing. Her pale hair gleamed in the morning light, a perfect contrast with her sun-kissed golden skin. He liked the way the tip of her tongue slipped out of her mouth from time to time, dampening her upper lip as she concentrated on her work.
“I see you finally woke up,” she said when she noticed his presence.
He leaned against the door frame, checking out the painting. “Eighteenth century, isn’t it?”
She lifted a brow, as though surprised he knew. “Yes. Not one of the Masters, though. It belongs over the bar at a club on Rush Street. The owner hired me to restore some of the colors that have faded badly.”
“You’re good. Go ahead. Don’t let me disturb you. I have some calls I need to make.”
Stefan wandered around Julie’s house, reminding himself with every bright wall he saw, each piece of evidence a mortal lived here, that his job was to protect her -- as much from his own lust as from Reynard’s vicious intent. Julie’s little dog trailed after him, seeking attention.
“Come on, Noodles, I think I saw a ball outside that we can play with.”
Noodles barked, then trotted to the patio door, her tail beating out a happy rhythm as she waddled along. The fact that the dachshund seemed fond of him puzzled Stefan, because in his experience most animals steered clear of him. Of all vampires.
He’d exerted no particular influence on the dog. Come to think of it, he hadn’t utilized very much of that special vampire skill on Julie, either, since they’d awakened this morning. Once he’d influenced her to invite him into her home, it seemed she’d just accepted his presence there, as though her subconscious knew and accepted that he knew best, had her best interests at heart.
“Come on, girl.” Stefan followed Noodles outside, stopping beneath the roof overhang to avoid the direct sunlight. When the dog barked, as though asking what he was waiting for, he picked up a small soft rubber ball and rolled it across the flagstone patio. Noodles trotted after it, bit into it, and brought it back. Proud of herself, she dropped it at Stefan’s feet and let out an exuberant woof.
The revelation that he hadn’t needed to use his special skill to influence Julie niggled at his mind. What did it mean? Was this a sign that fate somehow had destined that they be together, utilizing powers beyond his or her control? Unlikely.
Still, he could come up with nothing more plausible, no more than he could explain to himself why one short-legged red dog who’d hated Reynard on sight -- a typical reaction to vampires that Stefan himself had experienced on occasion with other canines -- had immediately realized he was friend, not foe.
Noodles jumped up on Stefan’s leg, the ball in her mouth. From her quizzical expression, he guessed she was wondering why he’d invited her outside if he didn’t want to play. He bent and scratched behind her floppy ears. “Sorry, Noodles. Here. Go get it.” Then he tossed the ball again.
While Noodles retrieved it, Stefan shaded his eyes with one hand. His eyes burned, so much he fished out his dark glasses and put them on. Although the sun was sinking in the western sky among majestic buildings that bore marks of well-kept age but not antiquity, its rays were still intense. They reminded him of Julie’s brilliant smile, of the fact she thrived in light, not darkness.
Everything reminded him of Julie. How could he seduce her without himself being seduced?
He had to. And he knew it would hurt, wanting so badly what he must not allow himself to possess. He’d give Julie pleasure, take a pittance for himself. He’d spend untold sleepless days, aching for the complete satisfaction he dared not experience. It would nearly kill him not to claim her.
Turning toward her kitchen door, he faced her, faced the danger he sensed lurked in her willing arms...and in his own emotions.
He’d do what he had to, though he didn’t know how he’d survive.
* * * * *
Julie had thought Stefan handsome when she first saw him, but she couldn’t tear her gaze from his face now as they prepared to go out for the evening and explore her neighborhood. He’d fit so comfortably into her home throughout the day, she’d barely given a thought to him being there. She’d worked through the morning while he slept. After noon, he’d watched her work for a while. Though he’d declined her offer of a late lunch, he’d kept her company while she had a sandwich, and let Noodles entice him out onto the patio for a few minutes’ play. She felt completely at ease with him, as it seemed he did with her, as though they were old friends. Their instant connection was oddly perfect in its intimacy.
His eyes weren’t brown, as she’d thought, but green. Pure, clear green, neither aqua nor flecked with brown. Unique. “You have gorgeous eyes. It’s a crime that you keep them hidden behind those glasses.”
“My eyes are very sensitive to light.” He smiled, as though this wasn’t the first time somebody had commented on his twinkling eyes. He held her gaze, apparently not noticing Noodles until she rubbed against his pants leg and let out a yelp for attention. “Ah. It seems I’ve made another friend. She likes to fetch that ball out on the patio.”
“Yes. She’s apparently decided you’re all right.”
Stefan looked a bit taken aback, but he bent and stroked Noodles, laughing when she began to wiggle with pleasure. “Hmmm.” As though still uncertain of the dog’s approval, he held his palm out so Noodles could sniff him. “It’s unusual for dogs to take to me this way.”
“Maybe it’s because you saved her life last night.” Julie had trouble imagining any female, human or canine, not taking to Stefan d’Argent. He drew her like a magnet, warming her insides better than a roaring fire in the grate, making her nipples pucker as though she were outside naked in a snowstorm. If they didn’t leave now to explore the neighborhood the way she’d promised they would, she didn’t think she could restrain herself from touching his handsome face, learning the contours of his hot, hot body. She already felt like ripping off her clothes and his, and dragging him down onto the plush carpet right here in the foyer.
“Well, Noodles, tell your new friend good night. You can’t go with us.” Julie handed Stefan the vintage hand-painted silk shawl she’d been holding. When he draped it around her shoulders, his hands lingered, strong and capable, surprisingly cool against her upper arms. She couldn’t help it. She reached up, covered those hands with her own as she looked into his mesmerizing emerald eyes.
Sexual awareness -- need -- flowed between them, electric in its intensity. But there was more. An unspoken, mutual connection she sensed had begun in their respective cradles, but had lain dormant until the moment they met. God, but his simplest touch aroused her. “Shall we go?” If they didn’t, she’d embarrass herself.
“Certainly.” His smile revealed those gleaming white teeth she’d noticed the night before. Perfectly straight, with prominent incisors that added a bit of individuality but did nothing to spoil the masculine perfection of his
face. For some reason, she thought about the vampires that were now supposedly accepted in American society. She’d never seen one herself. Though accepted, it was rumored they kept a very low profile, and almost like the gay community some years ago, they chose to reveal themselves only in cautious ways.
Was Stefan a vampire? He was certainly dark enough and sexy enough to fit the mold of the vampire lovers Julie had read about in fantasy romances. What if he swept her into his arms, seduced her, carried her away to his dark, dangerous castle, a prisoner of love for all time?
Oh, Julie. Get a grip. You’re like a star-struck teenager.
He opened the door, his smile morphing into a dangerous, forbidding frown when he opened the door and handed her the vase of white roses someone had left there. “Who sent you those?”
She picked the card off and opened its small envelope, smiled, then looked up into the very forbidding, dangerous eyes of Stefan d’Argent. She almost stepped backward, but he had already reached out, plucked the note from her hand. “It’s from a gentleman I met in the park yesterday. He’s thanking me for my kindness last night. I spoke to him a bit when I was walking Noodles,” she explained, watching Stefan’s expression grow even darker. “I think he was just a lonely businessman, staying at the Marquisa Hotel. That was nice of him, don’t you think?”
“Nice, indeed.” The words came out practically like a growl.
“I didn’t see him today, so I guess he must have finished his business.”
“I wish,” Stefan muttered.
Julie reached up and touched his cheek. “It’s a bit premature to start getting territorial,” she ventured, trying to inject some lightness into the moment, though she knew it wasn’t premature at all. Sensual awareness crackled between them, so strong she couldn’t chalk it up to her artist’s natural admiration of masculine beauty. Apparently Stefan felt that connection, too. “Besides, they’re only flowers.”
He scowled. “Of course. Let’s be on our way.” In a gesture she couldn’t help seeing as a sign of none-too-subtle possession, he planted his hand firmly at the small of her back as they made their way down the sidewalk.
* * * * *
Moonlight caught Julie’s hair, gave its strands a golden glow. The ends curved inward, swayed slightly in the breeze, occasionally brushing her jaw the way he itched to do. Fine tendrils caressed the slender column of her throat, pale against the silky black background of her shawl, holding Stefan’s gaze, taunting him. He tried hard not to salivate, to recall his mission was to protect, not consume and very possibly destroy the woman Louis had marked as his next victim.
He could seduce Julie in order to save her. He could. He could then walk away, leaving her with nothing but a vague memory of him in the deepest reaches of her mind. Leaving her would be hard for him, he knew.
Much more difficult than he’d imagined before meeting her. For the first time in years -- almost two centuries -- he genuinely wished he could crawl inside a lover’s mind and stay there. Become part of her mortal life and take her with him into his own world... Stefan had the feeling that when he left her, he’d leave a large part of himself.
Thinking about the vase of roses Reynard had sent her incensed Stefan. How could the bastard have been so heartless as to send her those beautiful roses, a gesture that bore silent testimony to his murderous intent? The inexplicable pangs of hunger that wracked his own belly filled him with self-loathing, because that hunger wasn’t for sustenance but for the sensual pleasure of tasting Julie. Possessing her. He told himself it was the night and their proximity, the danger from which he’d been charged with protecting her. But he was fairly certain he was indulging in self-deception of the worst, most dangerous sort.
Who but a eunuch could fail to be stirred at the sight of her, bathed in moonlight while the bright neon signs of upscale clubs lent her sun-kissed skin a surrealistic glow? Though Stefan resisted it, his arousal grew painful as the evening wore on. Touching her, warming his hand on the silk-draped curve of her hip...feeling the intimate heat of her fingertips through the thin fabric when she tucked them into the back pocket of his slacks...listening to the lilting sound of her soft voice when she pointed out her city’s landmarks...had him primed and ready. He ached with hunger for what he must not take.
Always sensitive to his surroundings, Stefan tried to tell himself it was the moonlit night, the flashing neon and soulful jazz music that wafted to his ears from one of the clubs along Rush Street, putting him on sensual overload. But he knew that wasn’t entirely true. While his mind registered the signs blinking red and green, blue and purple and gold, flashing names like Mario’s and Dublin Pub and Syn and Pippin’s, his body heated in response not to them but to every stroke of Julie’s fingers on his forearm, searing and arousing him even through the layers of his clothes.
“You know, I haven’t seen you nibble on the snacks or take more than a sip from your drinks anywhere we’ve stopped,” Julie said suddenly. “You must be famished. I know this little retro diner down by the river that serves some of the best omelettes you ever ate. Would you like for me to take you there?”
Stefan tried not to fixate on the throbbing pulse in her throat. “I have somewhat eccentric feeding habits. If you’re hungry, of course we can go there.”
She stopped beneath a street light, turned on her heel to face him. He kept her hand, and she slid her free one onto his chest, curled into the fabric of his shirt. “I’ve enjoyed every moment of our time together tonight, but I need more. Much more. I can’t explain it, but this feeling has been building in me until I can’t bear it any more.”
It seemed natural, right, for him to make himself inhale and exhale, to steady himself as much as to enjoy feeling his flesh rise and fall against the light pressure of her fingers. He released her hand so he could cup her cheek, knowing then that he was lost.
She spoke again, her voice soft yet urgent. “What I’m really hungry for is you.”
“And I for you. I’ve a feeling this -- this need that flows between us -- was destined from the start.” He cupped her cheek, brushed his lips across hers, barely able to restrain himself from deepening the kiss, tasting her more fully. When she moved close enough to warm him with her body heat, his blood surged, leaving him light-headed. Carnal need overcame caution, ballooned, robbed him of rational thought. His fingers tangled in the golden strands of her hair, for he dared not draw her closer, show her graphically how much he wanted her. Not here, underneath a street light at the corner of Rush and Oak Streets, in plain view of any merrymakers who might chance to leave their favorite watering holes at just this moment.
He dared not break the gentle kiss, for if he did, he feared he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from tasting her...putting her at risk in a way she couldn’t possibly understand.
Finally, Julie pulled away, tilting her head back as though offering her throat for his pleasure. Her tongue darted out, apparently eager to taste him on her tempting, swollen lips. “Let’s go back to my house.”
Stefan gazed into her beautiful eyes, and then he knew he’d been right all along. He’d set out to seduce her, only to find himself thoroughly seduced.
* * * * *
Her bedroom reflected who Julie was...who Stefan wasn’t. Walls the color of clotted cream, moldings pristine white, satiny French doors overlooking a floodlighted patio garden through the sheerest of curtains. A huge painting of sunflowers on a dark-blue background -- excellent quality, but he didn’t recognize it as the work of an artist he knew -- hung above a king-size bed. Glancing back at the bank of doors with clear glass panes, he imagined the morning sun bathing the spacious room in light. Light he’d find blinding if he didn’t don the dark glasses he never ventured outside without during the day.
Nothing like his bedroom back home, with its deep burgundy draperies that obscured the view of the English Channel, and matching bed hangings he kept drawn to block stray sunbeams that might have sneaked past the initial barriers. No mirrors to reflec
t and magnify the occasional errant sunbeam, temporarily rendering him totally blind.
She’d hate your home, find it too dark, oppressive.
Not a problem, Stefan told his inner voice. That would never be an issue, no matter how much he might wish it otherwise. He didn’t need his conscience to remind him of Julie’s vulnerabilities. Of the danger within him that she courted so unknowingly, inviting him to take her as she’d done moments earlier.
He’d managed to resist showering with her when she asked, just barely. Now the sound of rushing water filled his ears, flooded his mind with images of droplets sluicing over Julie’s slender throat, her ripe, full breasts. Her belly. He longed to go to her, kneel, spread her legs, and lick away the moisture there. She’d taste so clean, slightly salty, her fragrance of musk and roses light, never overpowering.
With difficulty, Stefan restrained himself. He had to hold his emotions under tight rein, shield Julie not only from Reynard but from the beast that roared within himself. He could do it, must do it. Seduce her, protect her...then walk away once the risk to her was over, leaving her to her mortal pursuits. Save Julie. Save Julie. He repeated those words like a litany, over and over, until it began to sound more like the plea of a desperate man than the determined conviction of a vampire hunter.
He glanced at the painting above the bed, suddenly realizing when he noticed the bold “JQ” at the lower right corner that Julie did more than “work” with art. She’d apparently created this and many of the other striking paintings lining the rooms of her house.
He was about to seduce -- compel--a mortal who fed on sunlight and brilliant colors. Not one who’d adapt well to an eternity of darkness, even if he were selfish enough to turn her. Stefan barely held back an oath. It was so damn unfair to have found a perfect mate...one who wanted him as much as he wanted her...only to have to make love to her, save her from Reynard, then let her go.
Dark Knights 1: Eternity of Darkness Page 7
