by Michele Hauf
But one thing remained that he really wanted to fix.
Zoë kissed his chest, and then playfully licked his lips before kissing him long and hard. Her slick, wet breasts slid across his chest and he held her tight, yet stopped the kiss.
Stroking his thumb across the scar on her cheek, he said, “If you can’t heal yourself, maybe I can help some way? Like give some of my life to you to make it heal like you did for me?”
“Is it so important to you that I look a certain way, Kaz?”
“No. You’re gorgeous just the way you are. I just, well hell, doesn’t the scar make you think of violence?”
She nodded and dipped her head to press her forehead against his shoulder. “A warlock might be able to fix it, but I’ve refused Ian Grim’s offer to try. I guess...I’ve always felt I needed to wear this as a reminder.”
“A reminder of what? Nothing good. And you and Luc have put your bygones in the past. Don’t you think it kills him to look at the scar, too? Come on, Zoë. Let’s talk to the warlock. I want to help make you whole.”
“I’d do anything to make you happy.”
“No.” He caught her hand and kissed her palm. “It’s got to be because it will make you happy. If you are fine as you are then—”
“I would like to make it go away. I am a bit self-conscious about it....”
“Didn’t you say something about your dad being a warlock? Maybe he can help?”
“I...don’t know where he is. I wouldn’t want him to see me like this, anyway. Let’s stick with Grim.”
“Are you and your father not on good terms?”
“As good as they can be when I haven’t talked to him for a decade. Probably much better than you and your father— Oh, I’m sorry. That was horrible.”
“It’s cool. You and all your forgiveness kind of makes me want to look up the old man.”
“Really?”
He shrugged, and flipped off the shower. “Maybe. Don’t rush me.”
He wrapped a towel about the two of them, and they didn’t make it to the bedroom without having sex against the bathroom door, the hallway wall and finally, the bed.
* * *
As Kaz walked Zoë through the clutter of dried maple leaves littering the dark street, Zoë explained the love affair between her friends, Ian Grim, who was a warlock, and Dasha, who was—well, she hadn’t a term for her beyond revenant. Which meant one who rises from the dead. Dasha didn’t like the term, so she cautioned Kaz not to bring it up.
Zoë also explained exactly how she’d died. So when the beautiful woman with long, black hair and bright green eyes answered the door, and Kaz’s eyes went immediately to the red ribbon tied around her neck, he held back a wince. Dasha had been beheaded during the French Revolution for thievery. Seems the witch, Ian Grim—who hadn’t been warlock at the time—had found her head attached to a new body, and well, from there it got even weirder. Grim had ransomed his status with the witches of the Light and had been ousted a warlock because it was against the Light’s rules to keep dead things alive.
“This is Kaspar Rothstein,” Zoë introduced.
When Dasha took his hand to shake, he was glad it felt warm. Mostly warm, anyway. He had a hard time getting his mind around who—what—she was. She was dead? But the warlock kept her alive with blood transfusions?
“Come in,” Dasha said, leading them into a dark home that looked like something from Victorian times, replete with the silver-and-black-flocked wallpaper. “I’ll tell Ian you’re here, and with your new man. Oh, and Zoë, we’ve a surprise for you.”
The dead woman disappeared down the hallway, her long Victorian skirts sweeping the dark cherrywood floors.
“So she’s...”
“Save any questions for later, okay?” Zoë said. “Remember, be nice.”
“I can do that. Nice is my middle name.”
And he could, because despite having lived amongst the paranormal breeds for a decade, he was only now beginning to feel a part of it all. And he liked that. This hunter was changing, and for the better.
“I do like surprises,” Zoë said, flashing him an eager grin.
“As long as it doesn’t have fangs.” He hugged her to his side and kissed the crown of her head.
* * *
“Daddy!”
Zoë rushed into her father’s arms and the long-awaited bear hug took her from her feet. Didn’t matter that she could barely breathe. He was here in Paris!
“What are you doing here? And why Ian Grim’s home when you should be at my—”
Her father lifted a thick black brow in question.
“Doesn’t matter. What does is that you’re here.” Zoë gave him another quick hug and they held hands, facing one another.
“You don’t have a house, daughter dearest,” Pierre Guillebeaux said. “Much to my horror upon arriving at what should have been your bright blue doorstep. What happened?”
“It’s a long and strange story. I’m safe, and so is Sid.”
“Sid? Is that...?” Pierre looked beyond Zoë at Kaz.
“Sid is my cat.”
“Then who is this man whom I witnessed entering Grim’s spell room with your hand in his?”
Kaz wrapped an arm about her waist, claiming her. She could even laugh at the discerning perusal her father gave Kaz. He’d left her only a few years after she’d reached dating age, and hadn’t much chance to play the protective father.
“Kaz is my boyfriend,” she said proudly.
Kaz offered his hand to shake.
Pierre held Kaz’s hand a bit longer than usual, then dropped it. “Human. Bit of a disappointment, truth be told. You are in love with my daughter?”
“I am,” Kaz said, hugging her closely. “It’s nice to meet you, Monsieur Guillebeaux. Sorry to disappoint.”
“Yes, well, you may yet grow on me.”
“He’s a hunter for the Order of the Stake,” Zoë explained.
Both Ian and Pierre groaned at the same time.
“Really? Didn’t realize how unpopular we knights were with the paranormal breeds.” Kaz lowered his gaze.
“A human who hunts vampires,” Zoë’s father said. “I will give him points for that, but—no, only half a point. Kaz, eh? What sort of name is that?”
“It’s Kaspar Rothstein,” Zoë provided eagerly. There was no way she would allow her father to belittle Kaz when he had been out of her life for so long. “He’s German.”
“Oh.” Pierre shrugged his shoulders and appeared to give that some merit. “I’ve just come from Berlin. Nice area. As are the fräuleins.”
“Daddy, really? I haven’t seen you in a decade and the first things you do are put down my boyfriend and extol the virtues of German women?”
“I’m sorry, Zoë.” Her father kissed her on the cheek, then pulled back, touching the scar. “What’s this from?”
“It’s a long story, which I will tell you later, but it is also the reason I’ve come here today. It’s an old wound, but I’ve decided perhaps I could attempt healing it.”
“That’ll take some powerful magic.” Pierre glanced to Grim. “Ah. Well now, you’ve two warlocks. You want to give this a go, Grim?”
“Already working on it, Pierre.”
After much thought and perusing his grimoires, Ian Grim finally invited Zoë to sit upon his spell table, and told Kaz to stand beside her. Zoë trusted Ian. Kaz, however, cast her a wary eye, but she gave him a look that reminded him to play nice.
Her father stood on the other side of her, acting more as an advisor to Grim, and agreeing when he’d pointed out various spells, or explaining how it could be done with more finesse. She was thrilled to see him again, but wouldn’t hold out hopes that he was in town for long.
“This requires
soul work,” Grim announced. “I’ll need a part of Zoë that is unselfish and strong and loving.”
“Well, that’s all of her,” Kaz said.
Zoë caught his admiring look, and she felt the warm snugglies spill from the top of her head to her toes. Happily ever after felt so close, she could taste it.
“Right, but it needs to be an independent source,” Pierre explained. “A part of her not within.”
“I don’t understand,” Zoë said.
Dasha popped in with a tray of freshly baked cinnamon cookies.
“Not now, Dasha. We’re working,” Ian said, but in a kind way, not dismissive.
“Before you go...” Kaz grabbed a cookie from the plate, then two more.
Dasha beamed at him. Her father made that disapproving throat-clearing sound.
“I love cinnamon cookies.” Kaz munched on the spoils and leaned nearer to Zoë. “Strength from not within,” he said. “I don’t get it, either.”
“I am very strong on my own. I’ve healed Kaz many times,” Zoë said. “He’s been near death quite a lot lately.”
“I expect so,” Ian said. “That might explain your new hairstyle.”
“Zoë, really, you’ve gotten that far with the molecular magic?” her father asked proudly.
She nodded.
“So you imbued molecular magic into the hunter?” Grim asked.
She nodded and then bowed her head. “Sorry, Kaz. I know I promised I wouldn’t use warlock magic, but—”
“I love you,” he said. “You can use whatever kind of magic on me you like.”
She tilted her head against his. No one else existed when she was in Kaz’s presence. He smelled like cinnamon and licorice, and he was her hunter. All hers.
“Ahem,” her father said.
“That should do it, then.” Ian and Pierre exchanged looks. “You thinking what I’m thinking, Guillebeaux?”
“Yes. Unfortunately.” Pierre tapped a finger to his bottom lip. “He does appear to give her strength.”
Ian turned and sorted through some metal instruments on the table behind him, then spun around to display a gleaming steel knife, the blade as long and wide as his forearm. “I’ve always wanted to cut a hunter.”
“Wait. What?” Kaz stopped midbite of the third cookie.
“He’ll need some of your blood,” Pierre explained. “Because, thanks to the molecular healing, it’s got Zoë’s life energy coursing through it.”
Ian held up the blade. “You willing to bleed for this woman, Kaz?”
Kaz shrugged off his coat and flexed a biceps. “Tap me. But uh, does the knife have to be that big?”
With a smirk, the warlock gripped Kaz’s wrist.
“Oh, let me do it, please?” Pierre reached for the blade, and Ian graciously handed it over to him.
“Now, Daddy, remember I love Kaz.”
Pierre met eyes with the hunter, and even as the sun’s reflection glinted on the blade and dashed across her father’s face, he lost the teasing jest and nodded. “She’s very special.”
“You don’t have to tell me that,” Kaz said. “She’s taught me a thing or two. Forgiveness being the most important.”
“Fancy that,” Ian said over Pierre’s shoulder. “A hunter who knows the meaning of forgiveness.”
They were both giving Kaz a hard time, but Zoë sensed Kaz took it with the same jocular intent in which it was given.
“Hold that goblet for me, Zoë,” her father announced.
Pierre dragged the blade over Kaz’s vein. Blood purled over the side of his arm and into the goblet. The hunter nibbled the remaining cookie, his eyes fixed to the macabre sight.
And Zoë leaned in to kiss him at the corner of his eye. “Love you,” she whispered.
Chapter 25
Kaz stroked Zoë’s cheek as they stood waiting for the Metro train to arrive. Her scar was gone. Her father had been the first to kiss her and pronounce her his petite mignon, a nickname she hadn’t heard in a decade. It had been difficult to walk away from Grim’s home while her father had strode away in the opposite direction. He was only in Paris for the week and had mysterious liaisons to engage, but tomorrow was all Zoë’s, he promised.
Kaz kissed her on the cheek, then her mouth. They stood there, amidst the rumble of the approaching train, lips still against one another, yet heartbeats fluttering in sync. Her knight had rescued her, as she had him.
“Do I look better now?” she asked.
Kaz shook his head. “You’ve always been a stunner. I actually think it might take a few days to get used to the new you.”
“You’re not upset we performed the healing spell?”
“Are you?”
“No. This is good. It’s erased a wrong—”
“That you don’t need to atone for anymore. You got that? You and Luc are good. No one owes anyone for the pain they gave the other. You’re even.”
She nodded. “I’m cool with that.”
The train squealed to a halt and Kaz tugged her on board and into the crowd.
“Where to now?” she asked.
“There’s someplace I need to go. It’s important. And...I need you to hold my hand.”
She squeezed his hand. “I’d go anywhere with you, lover.”
* * *
Kaz rang the doorbell, then stepped back to wait. Slipping his hand into his pants pocket, he curled his fingers about the old brass key. He could just walk in...
Not your home anymore.
At his side, Zoë gave his other hand a squeeze and cast her gorgeous gaze up at him. A soft confidence glowed in her expression, and it settled his nerves.
She’d taught him that forgiveness was essential to move ahead in life. To shed old scars that carry memories that were best buried. And though he knew she and her father had not parted on bad terms, watching them today had stirred up the longing in his core that he’d suppressed for years.
A longing for family that had been shattered due to circumstances no one had been prepared to accept or control.
Stepping back, he turned to look out at the street. It wouldn’t take long to clear the block and be out of sight of the doorway.
“Forgiveness doesn’t mean you have to forget,” Zoë said softly, bringing his attention back around. “It means you’re allowing yourself to move on, to shed the pain. I’m here for you.”
He smirked and gave her hand a squeeze just as the door opened. Inside, a man who looked ten years older than he should stood tall and narrowed his eyes at the visitors.
Kaz swallowed and released Zoë’s hand. He stretched out his hand in an offering to shake.
“Kaspar?” the man said finally. “My son. My prayers have been answered.”
The men slapped their palms together in a firm grasp, and Kaz and Zoë didn’t leave until three hours had passed.
* * *
“Thanks for that,” Kaz said as he and Zoë strode through the Bois de Boulogne near the Jardin d’Acclimatation.
It was around eight in the evening and the sun had set, yet the neon lights from the nearby amusement park cast a golden glow across the fallen leaves and flower heads that had gone to seed. Neither had wanted to go home after leaving Kaz’s father’s home. The old man had begged Kaz’s forgiveness and shown him his sobriety pin. Two years, thirty-six days and counting. He knew he’d messed up with his son, and had never forgiven himself for putting the blame for his wife’s death on him.
Zoë had sat quietly, allowing the men to slowly gauge one another, and finally, when it was time to leave, father and son had hugged. Kaz hadn’t told his father that he was a hunter, nor was it necessary. The relationship was yet fragile, but she sensed over the years, it would grow strong.
“There’s no
need to thank me,” she offered, and paused beneath a streetlamp. Kaz wrapped his arms about her waist and pulled her in for a kiss.
“Let’s do something crazy,” he said.
“What did you have in mind?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Slay a few vampires?”
“That’s not crazy. That’s just work.”
She agreed with a nod. “Go on a trip?”
“I have to stay in Paris. I’m the only knight on call for another few weeks.”
“We could...hmm...go dancing again?”
He slid his hands into hers and spun her beneath the glow. “I want to dance with you forever, witch.”
“I like the sound of that. You know you’ve bewitched me.”
“Right back atcha. How about this for crazy?” he said. “Let’s get married.”
The suggestion did not take her by surprise. In fact, it felt the perfect way to begin the next chapter.
“I do,” she answered.
Kaz swept her up into his arms and spun her around. “I love you!”
* * * * *
I hope you enjoyed Kaz and Zoë’s story.
If you’re interested in learning more about
the vampire Vaillant, check out his story,
FOREVER VAMPIRE, available at your
favorite online retailer.
And watch for Rook’s story,
GHOST WOLF, in October 2014.
Keep reading for an excerpt from MOON RISING by Lori Devoti.
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Nocturne story.
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