by Nana Malone
As a rule he wasn’t given to introspection. But found himself brooding if these thoughts and feelings were the beginning of The Fade. Even Vampyres didn’t live forever.
All three raised their glasses of claret, a Château Latour, to salute the fat moon which hung in a sky as black as jet. All three turned their faces to the celestial body and drank in the precious light as if inhaling vitamin D from the sun.
However, Duncan’s intuition for trouble was twitching.
Ezekiel’s persistent demands for a meet on neutral ground were becoming tiresome and bloody. The time for talking had passed too many years ago.
But a rumour, a whisper, had reached his ears of heavy losses incurred by Ezekiel’s Legionaires in a battle in a distant land.
He gave a mental shrug. Who cared?
Anything that put a hitch in Ezekiel’s relentless ambition for world domination must be a good thing.
Duncan’s eyes, cold and dark, were those of a predator. Eyes that had seen too much for too long now scanned the heavens searching for the tell tale blur, the loss of focus in the night sky, which would alert them to the presence of unwelcome ears and eyes.
‘We are running out of time,’ he murmured the words in a thick Scottish burr.
How the hell had it come to this?
Don Cristophe Pattullo’s vast shoulders shrugged in the way of the Latin. He’d been likened by one of his daughters to a taller, better looking, version of Al Pacino in The Godfather. Fair comment, since it was very true Cristophe had given the Borgias a run for their money.
His deep rumbling voice vibrated through the air.
‘We have fine sons, Duncan. They will not let us down.’
The third Vampyre, Samuel, Lord Hindmarch of Devon and Cornwall, shook his head. His ash blonde hair was streaked with silver, which along with pale skin pulled tight across high cheekbones gave him an appearance of being carved from ice.
‘Their yearning will begin soon. I still say change the law that permits them to take the vein of one female. They need to spread their pure seed far and wide.’
Duncan turned his head. His eyes met those of his old friend and he read quite clearly the guilt and anxiety.
No matter how long each lived, they could never escape their destiny of needing to atone, to right a wrong.
‘We are Vampyre, Samuel. Our seed placed in the womb of the wrong female will kill her. Our foetus are parasites.’
Duncan knew the term offended his friend, but the truth was the truth even if some found it unpalatable.
Samuel rose in a smooth move.
Even for a Vampyre Prince he was tall, wide shouldered with long muscled thighs.
Those cold eyes glared now.
‘Our scientists and medics report great success with a diet of pure Vampyre haemoglobin for a pregnant human.’
Duncan kept his voice low but the tone was implacable and diamond hard. His word was law and they all knew it.
‘Fifteen percent fatality is too high a price to pay.’
‘Duncan is right, Samuel,’ Cristophe said with an Olympian disdain. ‘We would be no better than The Legion. Not one pregnancy they’ve imposed upon a woman has come to term. And how many humans have died because of it? Too many females have been taken, forced, into slavery. It is an abomination.’
Samuel spun around, his pale eyes flashing with grief and fury.
‘An abomination I caused.’
Since he’d heard it all before, Duncan gripped the shoulder of his old friend in a gesture of support and solidarity.
‘We learned the hard way never to keep all our eggs in the one basket. Our treasures, our children, are spread far and wide. Samuel, we need to trust in our Maker and trust in our sons. Between us we will prevail. Our laws are there for a reason.’
Cristophe heaved his bulk out of the chair and cast a probing eye towards the heavens.
His gaze narrowed on the soldiers of their Centuri changing their protective positions on the top of the highest buildings in the vast City for as far as the eye could see.
‘You have three fine sons, Englishman. Duncan has five and I have been blessed with three sons, and The Maker help me, two daughters,’ he growled in a hard put upon voice.
Duncan’s lips twitched.
The Italian accent was thicker whenever Cristophe mentioned his headstrong daughters, but the love he had for them could not be hidden.
Even Samuel’s icy demeanour thawed.
‘They honour you by the work they do.’ He turned to Duncan. ‘James has taken a bride.’
Duncan nodded. ‘One down, twelve to go.’
Although he didn’t want to dash his friend’s hopes by telling him that James had not, as yet, taken Charlotte’s vein.
That was the trouble with equal opportunities and women’s rights these days. James was determined that the ultimate step must not be forced upon his bride and the love of his life.
It baffled him the way their children, except for Marcus, strove to be human.
They were born Vampyre, why the hell didn’t they embrace their race?
‘He is the eldest, why does Marcus tarry?’ Samuel wanted to know.
Good question.
Duncan shrugged. ‘He is busy in China with the acquisition. I gave him a gentle reminder. He told me to mind my own fucking business.’
Samuel gave what passed for a grin as Cristophe roared with laughter and slapped Duncan on the back.
‘A chip off the old block, eh? Whoever he has his eye on will need courage.’
Duncan sincerely pitied the woman Marcus chose as his bonded mate.
Her needs would not be an issue.
As far as his eldest son was concerned he took what he wanted and damn the consequences.
* * * * *
Chapter One
According to the travel brochure, Shanghai was an exotic, bustling metropolis.
The seven stars Mandarin Orient was, apparently, one of the best hotels in the world. After ten days and nights, all Anais Walker had seen of the City was dark streets from the back of a limousine. All she’d seen of the hotel was her bedroom, the shared sitting room in their suite, the corridor and the elevator.
Thank goodness the seven-hour meeting was over. And it hadn’t gone well.
The Chinese delegation bowed to the man standing to her right and shook his hand.
Even the bespoke suit by Ozwald Boetang couldn’t disguise the fact he was built like a linebacker.
Taking a deep breath she chanced a look at the cement set of slashing cheekbones, the narrowing of those amazing eyes behind his bespoke glasses and the tight set of that wide mouth.
He was angry. The jumpy nerves in her gut wound it even tighter.
She’d messed up.
Big time.
Today was supposed to be their last day in Shanghai and the contracts were still not signed, which meant they wouldn’t be returning to New York anytime soon.
Why had she slipped up today of all days?
In less than three hours confirmation she’d made junior partner in Gillespie, Pattullo and Hindmarch, one of the biggest corporate law firms in the world, would be announced.
She’d known going in that the six months probation period was excessive but Anais wanted to work for the best. For too many years she’d sacrificed family life, friendships and even love to get to the top to fail now.
On a good day Marcus Gillespie had an old world charm. He always opened the door for her, let her precede him into a room or a vehicle.
But now he led the way out of the hotel conference room and stalked to the elevator.
In four-inch heels, her feet matched the beat of her frantic heart in an attempt to keep up with his ground-eating stride.
They entered the elevator and the glass doors closed to whisk them to their penthouse suite.
The atmosphere was so thick with tension she found it hard to breathe.
Close proximity to Marcus was something she did her best to avoid
since he both attracted and repelled her in a way that tied her every logical thought in knots.
Anais regarded herself as an intelligent woman who understood the laws of chemistry, pheromones, and what they could do to the human body.
The trouble was, around him, her body appeared to have a mind of its own.
Her nipples hardened even now.
When her womb clenched she chanted the periodic table in her mind but it was no use and the insistent liquid throb between her legs made her tighten the muscles in her thighs.
Right from the moment she’d stepped into his office to be told he’d be her mentor she’d been too aware of him.
Those obsidian eyes had caught at her lungs in a way that no man had affected her before or since.
At the time Anais reckoned she’d drawn the short straw by being appointed to the charismatic Marcus Gillespie, the eldest of five sons of one of the founders of the great legal dynasty. His arrogance and domineering nature were legendary.
But she’d learned so much in the six months she’d worked with him.
Through sixteen hour days, seven days a week, she’d come to realise she was in fact very lucky.
He’d tested her mind and her resolve and her beliefs.
If she found him uncomfortable to be around and too intense then that was her problem because Marcus had been nothing but one hundred per cent professional. He was deeply interested in her work and guided her with a firm hand through the minefield of corporate strategy and politics.
Except he made her too edgy when she’d caught him staring at her with those darkly brooding eyes. If her dreams were filled with all the wicked things he’d do to her body then that again was her problem and not his.
But the trouble was those dreams had become darker, more erotic, in ways she couldn’t explain or understand.
Two nights ago she’d woken up in a cold sweat with her heart trying to burst through her ribs.
She’d slapped on the light, raced to the bathroom to check that her neck was truly in one piece and that he hadn’t bitten her and drank her blood. Even more shocking had been the brutal orgasm soaking her panties.
The aftermath of the nightmare had lasted through a shower and yet another sleepless night of a deep ache in her womb; a need, a hunger that she couldn’t comprehend.
The temperature in the elevator had dropped by ten degrees.
Even though they didn’t speak, the strain between them was a living, breathing entity
A cold sweat broke out above her top lip as the doors opened and he stalked out ahead of her.
* * * * *
Chapter Two
Marcus swiped the key card and swept through the double doors of their suite.
Pacing to the floor to ceiling windows, he tugged off a silk tie and undid the top three buttons of his pristine shirt, then shrugged off his bespoke suit jacket.
She’d never seen him like this.
If there was one thing Marcus was famous for it was his self-control and granite features that never showed emotion.
But now he turned to her.
Those amazing eyes narrowed as they met hers.
When she’d first seen his face Anais had been awestruck by a raw masculine beauty rarely seen outside of magazines. She couldn’t decide if he had the face of a Celtic warrior, all angles and plains with a determined jaw, or a dark fallen angel. Over the months she’d worked with him she’d come to realise he had a bit of both within him.
He was an enormous, powerful man with wide shoulders who worked out daily in the company gym to cope with the stress of his chosen career.
He might be toned and built but he was also long and lean with narrow hips and a taut stomach.
Hair the colour of glossy jet was swept back from a high forehead.
That strong jaw was clenched now.
Anais placed the boxes of files she was carrying on a side table and wiped her damp hand down the side of her Armani suit in black silk.
‘Place the do not disturb sign outside. Double lock the door,’ he ordered.
His voice was deep, a powerful bass. The Scottish accent stronger as it vibrated, shimmering through her system in a way that made her mouth go dry. The girls in the administration group of Gillespie, Pattullo and Hindmarch always said his voice alone made their knees go weak and she knew exactly what they meant.
He removed his glasses and placed them on the wide desk.
On trembling legs, Anais did as she was told and walked back to stand before him.
Those amazing dark eyes found hers and her palms went slick again.
‘What in the name of God were you thinking, woman?’ The lilt of the Highlands of Scotland was even more pronounced and told her his temper was up.
Her normally sharp brain screeched to a halt as she desperately tried to work out where she’d gone wrong.
Had she lost her focus for a split second?
He’d been speaking to the Chinese minister of commerce at the time.
What the hell had she done? She’d only handed him a file. And then reality smacked her hard.
He hadn’t given her the signal, the little flick of the wrist, which would have warned her the time was right to take the next step. By acting prematurely she’d alerted the Chinese to their corporate strategy.
She’d handed him the file too soon because she’d been helplessly fascinated on his beautiful hands with their slim fingers and trimmed nails and just what those hands could do to her body.
Marcus stepped into her and grabbed her shoulders and it was all she could do not to swoon to the scent of his signature cologne and a furious healthy male in his prime.
She’d never been this close to him before and she shivered in reaction.
His fingers dug into her shoulders.
Anais tipped her head back and her eyes clashed with his.
Those eyes were not black after all she realised with something like shock, but the colour of deep sapphire.
Then her eyes dropped to his wide mouth with that sensual bottom lip and she nearly whimpered out loud.
She cleared her throat and took a breath. ‘I messed up.’
His wide chest heaved as he gave her a little shake.
‘Darlin, you fucked up. Do you realise how much a delay will cost our clients?’
Her heart did a crazy little dance in her chest as she tried to assimilate the great Marcus Gillespie calling her ‘darlin’ and cursing her in the same sentence.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered and knew it was all over.
Her heart almost broke for the disappointment she was going to inflict on her elderly parents.
They’d adopted her, a child of mixed race when she was days old. Each working two jobs to put her through her Law degree and celebrating every single step of her achievements. They’d virtually built a shrine to her in the sitting room of their small three bed roomed house.
Her eyes filled.
She’d let them down.
Her shoulders slumped. She was finished.
All those years, all that work and it had been for nothing.
‘You know the rules?’
Biting so hard on her bottom lip it bled, Anais simply nodded.
‘I understand.’
‘One strike and you’re out.’
The words Marcus had spoken the day she’d first stepped into his office reverberated around her brain, which was why Gillespie, Pattullo & Hindmarch were the best in the business, every partner had to be at the top of their game.
Then his hands slid down her shoulders and gripped her elbows.
Those dark eyes changed.
‘I asked you a question. What was going through your mind?’
No way could she tell him the truth.
But she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his.
The ridiculous sensation swept over her that he could read her mind.
But how could she possibly tell him she’d lost focus during a vision of his long fingertips stroking her s
kin, her breasts, the slick hot flesh between her legs.
She shuddered.
That voice went deep and low, ‘I can smell your arousal, darlin. It’s driving me fucking crazy.’
Oh my god.
Humiliation burned a path up her neck as her cold fingers pressed into white-hot cheeks.
Then reality smacked her. He was attracted to her?
She blinked up into that amazing face.
His breath was coming faster and so was hers as his gaze settled, frozen, on her trembling mouth.
Her nipples went even harder under her jacket as the constant arousal she’d nursed for six endless months burst into liquid flame.
Was there a way to fix this?
No. Shame she could even think such a thing scorched her cheeks.
The trembling in her muscles only got worse, and she forced herself to get a grip.
Surely she must be imagining the look in his eye for her.
Anais tugged for him to release her but his grip tightened and his voice went low and soft, ‘Were you thinking of me?’
And she couldn’t help it, she nodded.
‘Was I touching you?’
Again she nodded.
Marcus licked his lips as his eyes went black with what she realised was arousal, a dark possession, and a sliver of fear slid up her spine.
Then she went stiff with tension as those long fingers moved to the top button of her jacket.
She couldn’t take her eyes from his as he slipped open one, two, three buttons.
The hectic pulse beating in her throat caught his eye and she shivered.
‘Marcus?’ Her voice wobbled in a way she knew would alert him to the fact he was intimidating her.
Again those dark eyes captured hers.
‘If you want me stop, Anais, just say so.’
Her system was so overheated she didn’t know what she wanted.
‘Why are you doing this?’
He slid her jacket down arms now held rigid at her sides and threw it in the direction of a chair.
