by Michele Hauf
“I wish you hadn’t had such a hard life.”
“Made me the man I am today. Dancing machine that I am.”
She smiled at his light tone and laid her head on his shoulder. He’d volunteer information about him and his dad if he wanted to, so she wouldn’t ask. Besides, she wanted this night to stay magical and not dip into the dark side.
“So you took dance lessons from Madame du Monde?”
“Yes and no. I was sort of forced into it with the lure of cookies and coffee. I knew Madame du Monde was aware I snuck about her building, but I never gave her any trouble, so she never gave me any. One night, though, she came out looking for me. Said she needed an extra man to dance with her students. I thought she’d slipped on some ice and cracked her noggin. But when I smelled the cookies, well... Wasn’t often I got a hot meal, and the coffee was the perfect lure in the winter.
“So this stupid fifteen-year-old kid stumbled about the dance floor, forcing himself to hold the hands of the old ladies who smiled at me with their bright, painted lips and crooked wigs. I thought it was dumb. But my focus was aimed on the refreshments table. I was allowed to eat all the leftover cookies, and my stomach kept me coming back. Whenever Madame du Monde called, I was there. Eventually, I started paying attention, and—though I would never admit it to myself at the time—I enjoyed dancing. I was learning something new. Hell, I was warm and on a sugar high.”
“I would have loved to have been one of those ladies,” Zoë said.
“You just were.” He kissed the top of her head.
“Can we dance again sometime?”
The next train pulled up with a squeal.
“I’m already plotting ways to get you onto the dance floor again,” he said.
* * *
The subway train was quiet, and Kaz and Zoë were alone, save for an elderly woman who sat on one of the hard, red plastic seats, a tapestry tote clutched to her chest. She smiled at the twosome but didn’t look interested in conversation.
Kaz grabbed a steel pole and pulled Zoë next to him. The pole between them, they stood face-to-face. She smiled up at him and he gave her a goofy wink. She was glad she’d seen his fun side tonight. There was more to this man than bladed collars and deadly stakes.
He was unsure of starting a relationship. She gave him points for being honest. Much as she would have loved to hear him profess his undying love for her, she realized she didn’t want the end to come as quickly as she initially had. They needed more time to learn one another. A dozen more chapters, at the very least.
Tilting up on her toes, she kissed him, lingering on the softness of his mouth that gave so much. He always relaxed into her, as if she gave him permission to let go and not be the tough hunter all the time.
One arm wrapped about the pole, she slid the other around and under his shirt at the small of his back. The woman sat behind her, so that little move went unnoticed. She’d love to dash her tongue over his hot skin. Taste his danger and lose herself in the mystery of his licorice-and-leather essence.
The train stopped to let on three men at the opposite end of the car. Zoë gave them little notice, but Kaz’s body suddenly stiffened against hers. The hand he rested at her hip jerked away and slapped to his chest. Then it slid down to his thigh where he unbuttoned the cargo pocket.
“What is it?” she asked. Turning a look over her shoulder she saw the men approach, menace in their eyes. Narrowing her vision, she spied the glint of white at the corner of the leader’s mouth. “Oh, goddess.”
Kaz twisted her around to stand behind him. “Vampires.”
Chapter 10
They marked him immediately. But how? He wasn’t wearing Order gear. The threesome looked like a gang of street hoodlums on the trail of trouble. All were slender and wore loose clothing, and had long hair. But Kaz did not miss the exposed fangs on the one in the front.
Vampires looking for a bite, or worse, mindless menace.
The old woman sitting before Kaz was unaware of the danger stalking down the narrow aisle between rows of red, plastic seats. Best to leave her oblivious and take care of the danger before it got too close.
He rushed the vamps, stake in hand. The first one swung a fist at him, missing. Kaz punched him in the gut. The vampire groaned and wobbled to his knees. Just because they were immortal didn’t make them unbreakable. The guy behind the leader used Kaz’s distraction to slash a blade across his biceps. That hurt, but it hadn’t cut deep. Had he been wearing his coat, the Kevlar would have protected him.
The one at the rear of their trio jumped over the plastic chairs, his focus on the old woman. Kaz swung up his fist, catching the vampire midair; the stake entered his heart with little resistance. Ash formed in the shape of a man soaring through the air, burning clothing to embers, then dropped onto the seats in a dusty, smoking scatter.
The old woman didn’t acknowledge anything unusual. With hope, she was hard of hearing.
A hand grabbed Kaz’s ankle and he lost his balance, landing on the hard, rubber floor between two seats. He met eyes with the old woman, who leaned over, assessed him, then nodded reassuringly before looking up toward the front of the car.
As he pushed up onto his feet, Kaz craned his neck and spied Zoë looking like a fantasy princess in her long, airy dress and clinging to the steel pole—but vulnerable.
A vampire growled and grabbed him by the sweater, pulling him upright to face him. “Slayer, that was my best friend. Why did you do that?”
“He was going for the old lady.”
“Don’t you know the best vintages are the older ones? Franck!”
The vampire named Franck lunged over the seats toward Zoë. Kaz head-butted the vampire who held him. His brain jounced against the insides of his cranium and his eyeballs jittered, but the damned thing didn’t even flinch, merely cracked a bloody grin and flicked out a switchblade.
Zoë screamed.
The sound of her fear heated the back of Kaz’s neck and tightened his muscles like no witchy healing spell ever could. As the vampire’s blade slashed toward his face, he gripped the attacker’s wrist and twisted it toward him, breaking the fragile carpal bones. The vampire’s scream didn’t upset the old woman sitting to his right.
“Zoë, I’ll be right there!”
Kaz heard Franck curse and knew Zoë must be fighting for all she was worth. If she could repel him with magic, he hoped she would do so. First, he needed to ash this annoying vamp that would not die. There was always one in every bunch. A knee to the man’s jewels resulted in a creepy smile that dripped with blood.
“Want sparklies!” the vampire behind him growled.
Franck was on Magic Dust. And Kaz recalled the glint of the diamond pendant nestled at the base of Zoë’s throat when they’d danced earlier.
He stabbed his attacker, but the stake landed at his throat. It wouldn’t serve a death punch, but he compressed the paddles, anyway. The vamp croaked around the throat kabob. With blood dribbling out around the titanium stake, he shuffled his neck off the weapon, and jumped backward, clutching the gushing, yet not fatal, wound.
Kaz spun and kicked high, landing a boot to Franck’s head. Zoë had sunk to the floor, curving herself inward into a ball. Why hadn’t she used some magic and zapped the longtooth?
“Stay down,” he directed as he turned to catch the other in a lunge.
Blood from the vampire’s opened throat spattered Kaz’s face. The stake was slippery with blood, and when he landed it against the vampire’s chest, he gave it the death punch. The vampire gasped, swore and ashed.
The train car stopped, the doors sliding open. The old woman stood to disembark and stepped carefully over the pile of ash.
“Sorry,” Kaz offered, feeling as if he’d made a mess all over granny’s floor.
“I’ve see
n worse,” the old woman offered. And she scuttled off, tapestry bag in hand. Without a look back, as the doors closed, she called, “Watch out behind you!”
Gripping a pole with both hands, the stake clanging against the steel, Kaz swung up both legs and booted the vampire standing over Zoë. He saw blood on her neck.
“He’s after the necklace!” he yelled. “Take it off and toss it.”
“No!”
The vampire lunged for Zoë, and Kaz managed to jump onto his back. Trying to pull the manic fang-face off the witch was like trying to peel an octopus away from the side of a glass aquarium. He kept latching on, then detaching, then going back.
Zoë’s arms were pinned. She couldn’t reach the necklace.
Kaz reached over the vampire’s shoulder, gripped the necklace at Zoë’s throat and tore it away. He dangled the diamond before the vampire.
The dust freak followed, bloodied fingers clutching the air and eyes peeled on the sparkling bit. Behind them, Zoë scrambled upright, clutching her throat.
“Come on,” Kaz beckoned. “You want it? Tell me where you go to get the Magic Dust.”
“Want more sparklies.”
The Magic Dust had reduced the idiot to lower than idiotic. It sickened Kaz. He should stake him to put him out of his misery. But he could use this one. He seemed to possess more self-control than the previous kill he’d made with Rook.
“You can have the sparkly. Just tell me who your dealer is.”
“Don’t know.” He swung for the necklace, but Kaz jerked it away from his reach. “Sexy chick,” the vampire added. “Pink hair.”
Switch.
“Good boy.”
“Gimmee!” The vampire swiped at the necklace.
Kaz swung his arm back, putting the prize out of reach, while seesawing around with his other arm. The stake entered the vampire’s side, smoothly piercing between ribs and tearing through the thundering heart muscle. The vampire gasped, cast Kaz a how-could-you look, then ashed.
He didn’t say it out loud—with Zoë watching—but another “Happy birthday” was due him.
The train squealed to a smooth stop. Kaz jumped over the piles of ash, grabbed Zoë about the waist and swept her into his arms. He leaped out onto the platform, and without another word, ran through the long concrete tunnel that angled upward. When they surfaced in the city, moonlight teased the sky with a silvery sheen
Zoë clung to his biceps. Her body shook against his chest. He sensed she’d been—or still was—crying. “Take me home.”
* * *
Zoë didn’t live far from the Clignancourt Metro stop, yet she didn’t think to ask Kaz to let her down to walk. It felt too good cradled in his big, strong arms. She’d never thought a man capable of carrying a woman so far and for so long.
Her knight had rescued her.
He avoided the street before her home because she didn’t want neighbors wondering what was up. It was well after midnight, but there were always lights on in the nearby houses.
For some reason she hadn’t been upset over seeing the vampires staked, or even being attacked by one. It had been the old woman’s nonchalant reaction that stung Zoë to the soul. As if she had seen so much in her lifetime that watching three creatures, who shouldn’t exist, getting staked was nothing to her.
When had the world become so jaded?
Kaz stopped before the gate to her backyard. Night scents of primrose, heliotrope and moonflower greeted her. Only last night he had collapsed here in agony. They were both engaging in a lot of rescuing lately. Par for the course when manic vampires were involved.
Exhaustion toyed with her muscles in a way that reduced her to a melted bit of bones against her big, strong warrior. When finally he set her down on the cobbled path inside the wrought-iron gate, she didn’t want to let him go. A vine of frothy honeysuckle dusted her shoulder with pollen. A cricket chirped along with a choir of frogs somewhere near the lilypad-dotted pond.
In the darkness, she felt his fingers move over her throat where earlier the vampire’s fingernails had scratched her.
“How does it look?” she asked.
“Just a scratch.”
“He didn’t get his fangs anywhere near me. But why was he after my necklace?”
Kaz pulled out her diamond pendant from his coat pocket.
“I thought I had lost that. It was my mother’s. I’m so thankful.”
He placed it in her palm, then wrapped her fingers over it and kissed her knuckles. “It’s a new kind of faery dust that’s been circulating lately.”
“A new kind...”
Like hers? Zoë’s heartbeats thundered so suddenly she had to swallow to catch her heart from rising to her throat.
No, the blend she produced was designed to help the vampire kick the dust habit. It would never make them rage as the one in the Metro had.
“They’re calling it Magic Dust,” Kaz said. “It’s regular faery dust times ten. Really amps up the vampire. Once in their system, it builds up and never dissipates. They’ll grab for anything that sparkles. They just want more dust.”
“That’s why he wanted my diamond.” Zoë suddenly felt lightheaded. Her knees bent and she wobbled.
Kaz caught her with an arm around her shoulder and walked her toward the back door. When they got to the step, she sat down and patted the step beside her for him to sit. He did so, taking a moment to sweep the hair from her cheek and kiss her.
“How do you know about this Magic Dust?” she asked. “Is it something the Order is investigating?”
“It’s personal to me.”
She studied his gaze, seeing the pain glinting in the freckled irises. “Personal?”
“I lost two friends recently,” he offered. “Husband and wife. A vampire went after the wife’s neck because she was wearing a rhinestone necklace. Ripped out her throat, then tore up the husband when he tried to protect her. I only managed to get to the husband in the hospital a few minutes before he died. He had a chance to tell me about the vamp who did it, though.”
She heard Kaz swallow and clasped his hand in hers. She felt his pain and wished she could heal that, too. But mental scars were not something witches could ever heal.
“I’m so sorry, Kaz. Magic Dust sounds awful. I’m glad you’re trying to stop it. I’ve many vampire friends, but I cannot tolerate senseless killing. A vampire doesn’t need to kill for survival. Most need only drink blood once every week or two.”
“Exactly. And they don’t need to drink a lot. Just enough to take the edge off. This Magic Dust is creating real monsters. Someone has to stop them before another human dies. I wish you hadn’t seen that on the train. I’m sorry.” He drew her head onto his shoulder and kissed her hair. “That old lady was one tough cookie, eh?”
“It disturbs me that she wasn’t horrified. Society has lost its repulsion toward violence. I hate violence.”
“It’s necessary sometimes.” He stroked the scar on her cheek.
She melted against him, slipping an arm about his and clasping his biceps. Dire thoughts segued to more intimate feelings when she was close to him. Her focus zoned in on Kaz’s calm, steady breathing and the heat of his hard, lean body. She felt safe with him.
“I want you to stay, but I’m so tired,” she whispered. “You must be exhausted after fighting those vamps. Seems as if you can’t set foot around the city without attracting either vamps or the Sidhe Cortège. Faeries and vampires hunting the hunter?”
“All in a day’s work. Though faeries are a new challenge. You want me to come in and sit with you until you fall asleep? I’ll lock the door and leave when you’re snoozing.”
“I’d like that.”
* * *
Kaz sat listening to Zoë’s soft breaths. She’d cuddled up in his lap like a kitt
en. He was tired, but not from fighting vamps. Lately, the world was piling all kinds of challenging situations upon him and he was having a hard time juggling them all. But he wouldn’t change things for all the diamonds in the world.
They’d had a good time dancing, entwined together beneath the twinkling lights. It had felt like something he’d never had before. An intimacy he’d not thought possible. To stand and hold a woman and not think about having sex with her right then and there? What Zoë gave him was new and more erotic than a quick shag in the hallway. Because the wondering and waiting hummed in his bones and promised a satisfactory progression.
As well, she’d given him kindness and a certain trust he wasn’t afraid to accept. He’d opened up to her about Madame du Monde. It had felt right to share his past with her. She respected his secrets as he respected hers.
He’d intended to take her out dancing to soften her up for when he asked her to analyze a sample of Magic Dust. Life had intervened. His life. Which was about as dangerous as it got.
He had blood crusted in his hair and behind his ear. He should go shower, but...
He brushed the hair from her face and wondered over the scar. It didn’t bother him, nor did it make her ugly to him. But he wanted to know how she had been hurt, and maybe, somehow, erase the pain of that memory.
Not an easy thing to do, he knew. Some memories pained for a lifetime. Perhaps it was best he let her have that secret.
He decided to stay, to relax and think things through, while at the same time enjoy the woman cuddled in his arms. He stroked the black-and-white strands that spilled across his chest. That white streak had definitely gotten wider. Parting her hair differently? He didn’t think so. She wore her hair long and loose with a part slightly off-center. The style hadn’t changed.
“Thank you,” he whispered as he stroked the white strands. “For everything you do.”
His eyelids were heavy, so he closed them and focused on the softness of Zoë’s hair under his fingertips. Something had begun between them. He’d felt it while holding her on the dance floor, his heart thundering not from dancing but from the feel of her body melded against his. In that moment, she had been his. And he would have surrendered willingly to anything she asked of him.
