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Forbidden Publications
www.forbiddenpublications.com
Copyright ©2007 by Denyse Bridger
First published in 2007, 2007
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NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
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A WHISPER OF HUMANITY
DENYSE BRIDGER
Copyright © 2007
Cover Art by RENE WILSON © 2007
Edited by RENE WILSON—No copyright assigned.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system-except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web without permission in writing from the publisher. For information, please contact the publisher via regular mail.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
ISBN: Not Assigned.
Published by Forbidden Publications, SEPTEMBER 2007
Forbidden Publications
PO Box 153
East Prairie, MO 63845
www.forbiddenpublications.com
A Whisper of Humanity
by
Denysé Bridger
The atmosphere of The Tomb was closed and thick when Faith Prentice finally made her way into the heart of the nightclub. She couldn't suppress the whisper of ice that persisted near the base of her spine, a wordless warning that she'd been unable to find a reason for throughout the long evening. Maybe she was just tired, nothing more mysterious than that. It had been an exceedingly long day; one that had quickly led into an evening that had been longer still. When she'd asked Adrian's partner to suggest a place where she could enjoy a drink before heading back to her hotel, Donald Shiller had told her about this club.
It wasn't exactly The Loft, she thought, and smiled as she envisioned her favorite nightclub near Los Angeles. She shook off the opposing imagery and directed her attention to her immediate surroundings. The smile lingered as her look wandered openly over the chandeliers, the waterfalls of chains, and the gleaming columns that decorated the club. There was something darkly exotic about this place. And the people in it, she added mentally as her gaze strayed without conscious direction.
She glanced at the myriad of bizarrely dressed people mingling within the spacious room, and felt another shudder when one of the young men at the bar smiled at her. If the expression was meant as an invitation of any kind, Faith wasn't eager to accept the company. She pulled her lightweight cotton jacket closer, cursing her own stupidity for wearing the sleeveless wool top that was completely inadequate to combat Montreal's late autumn chill. The jacket was black; the full, flowing skirt was a deep shade of teal. The billowing material draped her legs to only a few inches above floor length. Her high-heeled boots matched the creamy color of her sweater and the small shoulder bag she carried.
At thirty, Faith quite often looked barely twenty without her make-up, and that vanity was more a necessity to keep her age from being obscured than a ritual she enjoyed. She had dark brown hair that fell in soft waves around her shoulders, and equally dark eyes. She was tall and athletically built, not beautiful, but attractive in an aloof fashion. She tended toward solitude, and it seemed to communicate itself to other people since she was reputed to be cold and unapproachable. Her co-workers usually gave her plenty of space once they'd been politely kept at arm's length a few times.
"Can I help you?"
Faith turned at the softly accented enquiry, her smile automatic when she found herself eye to eye with a stunning, slender brunette. French, her mind noted as soon as the woman spoke again.
"We have a very strict age policy,” she informed the newcomer. “You don't appear old enough for a place such as this."
Faith was stunned into momentary silence. It had been a very long time since anyone had mistaken her age completely. Firmly convinced the brunette couldn't possibly be serious, Faith started to pass her. A firm hand on her velvet covered arm halted her before she was able to take a single step.
"You haven't answered me."
"I thought you were joking.” When there was no visible change in the lovely woman's expression, Faith sighed. She dug into her purse and produced the police shield that would not only prove her age, but her ability to take care of whatever she might encounter in a nightclub. Faith opened the leather case and held it out for inspection. The brunette took the case and read the information imprinted on the card. “You wouldn't require a birth certificate, as well, would you?” Faith wondered, a hint of ironic smile curving her full lips into a soft, faintly amused expression.
This time it was the French woman who smiled. She nodded a small apology, handed back the police shield, and linked her arm loosely through Faith's.
"My name is Julianna. I own The Tomb."
"Faith Prentice,” she supplied. “But you know that already, don't you, Mademoiselle?” Faith added with a laugh.
"What brings you to my club, Faith?” Julianna enquired, her dark head tilted to one side as she measured the other woman. Faith Prentice bore no resemblance to Julianna's mental image of police officers, and something about the woman intrigued the beautiful vampire. Perhaps it was the unmistakable aura of detachment that enveloped the woman.
Faith slid onto a stool as two were vacated the moment Julianna approached the bar. The beautiful Frenchwoman ordered drinks, and Faith took the momentary reprieve as a chance to indulge in a leisurely look at the room and its occupants. “You have a most interesting nightclub, Julianna."
Julianna laughed quietly. “That is one way of putting it,” she agreed and slid a glittering crystal glass across the gleaming bar-top. Faith accepted the wine and lifted her glass in a cheerful toast.
* * * *
Across the room, another figure watched the interaction with growing interest.
* * * *
Several drinks later, Faith was definitely starting to loosen up and laugh a little. She no longer shuddered every time one of The Tomb's patrons passed her, and Julianna's lively conversation was like the wine, intoxicating and diverting. Faith found she was enjoying herself tremendously, despite the headache that had begun to pound behind her eyes.
"How long are you planning to be in Montreal?” Julianna wondered, and leaned closer to murmur the words into her companion's ear.
"I'll probably be heading back home in a couple of days.” Faith refused another refill of the wine and stared into Julianna's dark blue eyes. “I was here to coordinate a special investigation with a friend of yours,” she told the other woman.
"A friend of mine?” Julianna asked, genuinely startled by the disclosure.
"Adrian Blackthorne."
Julianna considered that revelation and frowned unconsciously. If this woman was a friend of Adrian's, there might be a great deal of trouble visited upon The Tomb before the night was over. She could feel his interest from the other side of the room, and now it bothered her.
"Adrian is one of my oldest friends,” Julianna said with a forced smile. “You should have told me sooner, I would have treated you to the best vintage in the cell
ar."
"I think I've had too much as it is,” Faith admitted around a yawn. “Wine always makes me sleepy."
"There is a cozy room in the back,” Julianna told her. She slid off her bar stool then led Faith toward the door. “You can lie down for a few minutes and catch your breath.” She held the door open and smiled again when Faith slipped past her. “Stay as long as you wish,” she invited. “I have to see to some minor business."
* * * *
The room itself was shadowed and rich, velvet trappings kept the atmosphere subdued and hushed. There was a table, for private dining she assumed, a low couch, and in the corner two overstuffed armchairs. Between the chairs, adorning a low marble table was an ornate ebony and ivory chess set.
Faith went to look at the ancient set, and her breath escaped her in a low whistle of appreciation when she examined the intricate workmanship that had gone into the pieces. The king, in particular, was a work of art. After a close, near reverent look at the piece, she carefully placed the king back on his square. She lifted another figure and fingered the knight that resided, incorrectly, next to the king. She was both surprised and intrigued to see that the face of the white knight bore a striking resemblance to the handsome detective with whom she'd recently been working.
"The board is just over three hundred years old."
Faith whirled at the sound of the words, and an involuntary shiver caressed her spine. The richly textured voice was soft and beguiling, with a hint of mocking indulgence tainting the resonance. It was a spell of enchantment, and she loved the alluring sound already.
Faith put the chess piece back on the board and waited.
"Julianna told me you had left. But, I thought I noticed her showing you into this little hideaway,” the stranger commented, his voice like a velvet growl. He came further into the room and moved to the chessboard. Absently, he repositioned the knight that Faith had moved to the correct tile then sat in one of the chairs that were on either side of the table that supported the game board.
Faith felt another jolt of recognition when she realized this man was the King who ruled the meticulously arranged chessboard. The ice in the newcomer's blue eyes chilled the young woman even as it drew her to him. She instinctively put some distance between herself and the man who watched every movement she made. This tall, elegant stranger was overwhelming in his personal presence. Her look wandered, mentally cataloging everything about him. He was regal in manner and rich attire. She estimated his age to be roughly forty. His hair was thick, and white-blond in color, his features were strikingly contoured, and accentuated by the most piercing sapphire colored eyes that Faith had ever seen. He was tall and very slender, long legs crossed casually as he enjoyed her appraising look. When she looked directly at him again, his smile was complaisant, and faintly curious.
Faith continued to stare at him, despite her certainty that she was being laughed at for her gawking interest. She was behaving like a smitten teenager, but even that self-condemning observation couldn't tear her eyes from him. The sense of barely contained power within him was a near tangible cloak that surrounded him and whispered danger to anyone within his seductive orbit. Her heart began to pound as she contemplated exactly where his unexpected presence might lead her to this night.
"I am Devon Cartier,” the vampire said with a tilt of his head. “And you are?” Cartier prompted when she seemed disinclined to return his introduction.
"Faith, Faith Prentice.” To her relief, there was no betraying tremor in the words. She had half-expected her voice to be little more than a squeak of nerves.
"What do you want, Cartier?” Julianna demanded as she entered the room and saw Faith's enraptured gaze settled on the vampire's smiling face. A single glance at the aristocratic features gave her the real answer, and she resisted the urge to snarl at him.
"Another drink would be lovely, my dear,” Cartier answered with a smile. “The house specialty is particularly good tonight,” he added with a nod. For a moment, he thought she was going to openly defy him, then she whirled away, her stare icy with scorn.
"As you wish,” she whispered through tightly clenched teeth.
Faith was startled by the fury she felt in Julianna as she watched The Tomb's owner leave. Her confusion escalated when Cartier's laughter drifted across the short space between them.
"I think I'd better be going,” Faith decided, suddenly uncomfortably aware of the quiet in the room. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was cut off from the rest of the world in this place, and the instinct to run grew. Cartier had risen, silently, and had crossed the room to her side. His hand on her arm held her despite her assertions about leaving.
She started to withdraw when Cartier's eyes pinned her again, and she felt herself drowning in a growing wash of ocean blue. It took every ounce of will she possessed, but she managed to break the hypnotic hold moments later, and stumbled back a few awkward steps.
Cartier let her go then caught her wrist in a painful grip when she tried a second time to walk away. He was intrigued by this lovely, temperamental young woman; the combination of intelligence, innocence and lethal capabilities was a paradox the vampire found fascinating. Another name hovered on the fringe of his memory, and Cartier pushed it aside without acknowledgement. He loosened his grip on Faith's wrist, long fingers smoothed over the faint bruise showing there. He continued the caressing motion as he forced her eyes to again meet his. The shadow of pain was fading already, quickly being replaced by what he knew was unexpected, perhaps unwelcome, pleasure.
Without releasing his grip on her wrist, Cartier walked behind the couch as he pressed her into a seat on the cushions. He let go of Faith's hand, but before she could move away, his fingers found the sensitive area around her temples and started to massage gently. Silken hair brushed teasingly at Cartier's fingertips, and equally soft skin woke a throb of desire deep within him. It had been a very long time since he'd taken someone like this woman.
Faith sank deeper into the cushions of the couch, some inner instinct perfectly content to bask in the sensation of warmth and comfort Cartier's touch was creating. Another voice, louder but less powerful somehow, warned her that she was running out of time to escape. A soft sigh shuddered from her when the stroking fingers at her temples brushed across her cheekbones and continued the caress along her jaw. She shivered when she felt the awakening of her body growing from pleasant comfort to longing of another kind.
When Faith felt Cartier's cool lips touch her cheek, reason flooded in and she tried to pull away with a jolt. The vampire stopped the move with an effortlessness that was unnerving. Irrational panic made Faith repeat the attempt, this time with greater strength; strength that would have easily dislodged any other person. Cartier's hands closed on her shoulders, and she shuddered when strong fingers began kneading tense muscles into a state of contented relaxation.
"Don't resist me,” Cartier purred, his voice like rough silk. “Enjoy what you're feeling. You have no idea how much pleasure we can share."
"No...” It took several tries, but Faith was finally able to voice the rejection, emphasizing it with a jerky shake of her head. A tiny moan spilled from her lips when Cartier ignored her. Faith felt his searching, seductive fingers smoothing over the curve of her shoulders before gliding lower. Cartier's lips moved with his searching hands. Faith shuddered in a spasm of pure sensual pleasure when she felt his tongue caress the corner of her jaw, then trek downward to the sensitive curve at the base of her neck. When the stimulation was withdrawn seconds later, she couldn't suppress the gasp of disappointment that accompanied the loss.
Cartier's laughter was taunting as he again changed his position and returned to face the woman who was now his willing captive. He dropped to his knees and spread her thighs as he leaned into Faith's neck. This time, his lips sought, and found the pulse of life near the hollow of her throat. The erratic throb was like an invitation to Cartier's aroused senses, but he deliberately denied himself, unexpectedly eage
r to prolong this exchange. His hands began a stroking discovery of well muscled thighs, and he eased away enough to look into Faith's eyes, wanting to read the responses he could feel in the young body. Faith's lips were parted with the effort to breathe through the erotic exhilaration she was experiencing. There was only a ghost of lingering resistance in her dark eyes, a spark of denial that was a natural part of Faith, and just beyond her control. Just beyond them both—for the moment.
Cartier continued to be acutely aware of the enticing lure of her mouth and the slightly trembling lips that invited his kiss. With an inward smile, he granted himself the luxury of losing his eye contact with Faith. He leaned forward until his lips covered the fullness of hers. When he met no real protest, he deepened the kiss, allowing his tongue to search the warm depths. His desire became a pang of intense hunger that shuddered through him when he felt the unexpected, answering thrust of Faith's tongue delving into his mouth with surprising urgency.
* * * *
Julianna was seated at the bar again, her rage telegraphing itself to everyone within her orbit. She could feel the wide circles made to avoid her, and felt perverse satisfaction at the awareness that many of those present were decidedly afraid of her just now. She was almost spitting with indignation, and the ‘wine’ in her hand no longer appeased her mood in any fashion.
"Damn you!” she hissed in an undertone.
"I hope you don't mean me,” a new voice observed with mild amusement.
Startled much more than she should have been, Julianna swiveled the bar stool and smiled.
"Of course not, Adrian."
Adrian surveyed her with a critical eye and perched on the stool next to her. “Then who is in danger of damnation?” he asked with more curiosity than genuine interest. He had other concerns at the moment. But, winning Julianna's help usually meant having to ease into the need for it, so, he played the friendly game of banter.
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