“I know why you’re so strong,” Angyalka’s captive taunted. “You’re a vampire, aren’t you?”
She had his arms and his legs under control. But what he did next took her completely by surprise. His head plunged suddenly for her neck and bit. Hard enough to hurt; hard enough to pierce her skin, even with blunt, human teeth.
There was no thought, just instinct and acute disgust. She plucked him up in the air and hurled him across the room with enough force for him to have hurtled to the bottom of the stairs, breaking the door on his way out.
Except that the door suddenly opened, and the last man in the world she expected to see walked in and caught her troublemaker, much as he’d once caught her.
The crash sent him stumbling back against the now-closed door, but he didn’t let go. Which was when the knife she hadn’t even seen fell from the troublemaker’s suddenly limp hand.
She stood perfectly still, staring at the newcomer, as did the others of that little group in front of the door, as if frozen in a photograph.
He was tall, lean almost to the point of lanky, and yet she knew well the hardness of the muscle beneath his casual clothes, the strength in his steel-like arms. He had straight, unstyled brown hair that tended to flop forward over his high, intelligent forehead. Calm, steady dark eyes met hers without fear or anger.
He was supposed to be crippled, paralyzed by the insane Luk during the fight in the hunters’ library. Clearly reports had been somewhat exaggerated, for this was undoubtedly the hunter called István, the one who’d held her humiliatingly immobile on their last encounter when the hunters had tried fruitlessly to capture Saloman. The one who’d reacted with gratifying spontaneity to her teasing. It had been some balm for her humiliation.
Once, she’d thought his own more permanent immobility was enough revenge for such a slight. Now, seeing him so hale and hearty, in perfect control of her vulgar attacker, she wasn’t so sure.
His eyes, gazing at her across the frozen carnage, were veiled for a human’s. Overanxious to give nothing away. Intriguing.
One of the troublemakers threw a punch at Béla, her right-hand helper, who dodged the blow with ease and grabbed his assailant. The hunter, István, obligingly slid along the door to the wall, where he lounged, as if at his ease, still gripping his wriggling, swearing captive, watching as the group of troublemakers was efficiently ejected.
Béla, with his own assailant in his right arm, took István’s captive from him with his left and dragged them both outside.
Angyalka’s human staff began to right the fallen tables and sweep up the broken glass. Most of them, if they worried at all about such occurrences, only did so the first time they saw it. Thanks to the speed of her security, none of them was ever hurt. And as for her human customers, they came to this place for its edge, its atmosphere of danger bubbling just below the respectable surface. Already their attention was returning to their drinks and to the dance floor.
All this Angyalka absorbed without releasing her gaze from István. He didn’t move, just continued to lounge against the wall as if quite at ease. Only he wasn’t. He was tense as a coiled spring.
“Well,” she drawled at last, gliding toward him. She let her gaze slide over him, took in the dragged-down pockets of his smart jacket—clearly he’d been to Maximilian’s party—and his right hand thrust casually into one of them.
“Is that a stake in your pocket, hunter?” She smiled. “Or are you…? Don’t make me say it.” Her eyes lifted to his and found a hint of amusement there.
He said, “I’m pleased to see you too.”
Chapter Two
“Good hunter,” she purred. “Flattery is always polite.” She came to a halt in front of him, and István straightened. “You didn’t stand up for the humans,” she observed.
“I heard they were giving you a little trouble.” He had a nice voice, she realized, now that he’d finally spoken to her. Deep, quiet, peaceful. The whole humiliating incident over Saloman had occurred without him uttering a word.
“Trouble?” she repeated. Of course the hunters would know about that. Saloman wanted her to involve them, although so far she’d resisted and he’d let her. “From time to time,” she admitted. “Can you believe that one tried to bite me?”
“What a bastard,” the hunter said gravely.
She smiled, acknowledging the joke. “I guess he watches too much Twilight. Or thinks the girls do.” She regarded him, tilting her head slightly to one side. There were lines of strain around his eyes, thinning his rather handsome lips. No wonder he was tense. He’d walked alone into the vampires’ den. Very intriguing.
“Well,” she said with decision, “if you haven’t come to use your stake, please do take a seat.”
“I’ll try and keep it under control,” he promised. “Will you join me?”
So he’d come to see her, was even prepared for banter and innuendo. Why?
She didn’t take her eyes off his as she inclined her head and spread one hand in invitation for him to precede her.
He strolled across to the nearest booth. He had good, lean hips and a fine, neat rear, but he walked too stiffly. She didn’t remember that before. Why was he so wound up now when no one was offering him a fight? What had he come here for?
Hastily she concentrated her senses on the building and the area immediately outside. No powerful humans, no hunters. So she let her senses surround István instead.
Since he wasn’t telepathic, she couldn’t pick up his thoughts. But, being deeply empathic, she caught his mood: edgy, wary, excited. And he was definitely hiding something. When he sat, she felt his relief like a flood. Relief and pain.
Now that was most intriguing of all.
It was noisier in the booth than at the door and bar areas, yet it had been designed to give the illusion of more privacy. Since the live band had played earlier in the evening, now there was just her DJ playing an eclectic selection of rock. The music was one of the reasons her nightclub stood out for certain humans. She couldn’t bear the current dance music of most human nightclubs.
As she slid onto the high-backed velvet sofa beside him, she felt every nerve, every tiny hair on his body, stand up in awareness of her nearness. It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation for her. Far from it.
“So,” she said, “what brings you back here after all this time?”
His eyes flickered, as if surprised she’d actually remembered him. She almost laughed. Apart from the fact that vampires always remembered hunters, she had fantasized about killing this particular one for some months after their first meeting. Most of those fantasies had involved a certain amount of sexual gratification as she drained him of his powerful hunter blood. The memory made her smile. He was undoubtedly a sexy human, and she’d have no objections to fitting her body around the hard angles and planes of his. She could smell his blood, hear it pumping through his veins just a little too fast. He was definitely restless, his body curiously unquiet, whether or not that was anything to do with her and sexual attraction.
And that had certainly been present on their first encounter. She’d felt his erection pressing against her hips as he’d held her, heard the galloping of his pulse as she’d deliberately, teasingly wriggled against him. It had felt good, too good considering her humiliating position at the time. And yet if that was really why he was back, why would it have taken him eighteen months?
“I was passing,” he said evasively.
She raised her brows. “Was Mihaela’s party so dull?”
“On the contrary. Bizarre, perhaps, but never dull.” He leaned back on the sofa slowly, almost gingerly. “I was surprised not to see you there.”
She leaned her elbow on the table to turn and see him better. “I’m surprised you noticed.”
This time she thought his smile was spontaneous. “Oh, come, Angyalka, you’re nothing if not noticeable. And besides, you’re known to be a friend of Maximilian’s.”
“Has Mihaela taken it as a slight?”
she asked. “Or a sign that I’m really after her lover?”
“Are you?”
“If I were, it wouldn’t do me any good,” she observed. “Maximilian has chosen his companion.”
“Not just a human, but a hunter.”
“I know who she is,” Angyalka said dryly. As a lover, Maximilian was well back in her past. What interested her was that István appeared to be fishing. Perhaps he was looking out for Mihaela.
She sat back at last, regarding him. Time to step up the interrogation. “I know who you are too. István.”
Again, the flicker of his eyes, the surge of excitement in his blood. “I’m flattered that you know my name.”
“Oh, come, István,” she mocked him. “You’re pretty noticeable too. You don’t say much, but you get the job done. And you’re the one who’s taken the trouble to study us rather than simply kill us. What’s the matter?” she added, since even his face gave away his surprise now. In fact, just for an instant, he looked confused. “Do you imagine we don’t study you too?”
“Know thine enemy,” he remarked, as the waitress, Maria, laid a tray on the table. She was human and had a smile for István as well as for her boss.
“Champagne,” István observed as Angyalka nodded dismissal to Maria.
“Don’t worry, it’s on the house.”
“Really?”
“No. I’ll stick it on Saloman’s bill.”
“Shit,” István said. “I’ll pay.”
When she laughed, his breath caught. Something warm and deeply arousing flashed in his eyes before his lashes swept down and hid them. Angyalka stuck to the safer discovery.
“You’re not afraid of him either,” she observed, expertly removing the cork from the champagne bottle without it shooting round the room.
“Either?” István pursued, watching her pour the bubbling liquid. “You mean you’re not afraid of him?”
“I meant your hunter friend, Mihaela.”
He said nothing. But not, she suspected, because he had nothing to say. He was protecting Mihaela, preserving her privacy. On some level, of course, they were all afraid of Saloman. You’d have to be an idiot not to be. But Angyalka knew Mihaela had seen beyond that fear to Saloman’s vision, perhaps through Maximilian, perhaps through her own intelligence. And Angyalka rather thought István had too. So why the hell was he here?
She pushed one of the sparkling glasses toward him and lifted her own in a toast. “To Mihaela,” she said. “And Maximilian.”
István inclined his head and sipped the champagne, watching her with open fascination now as she lifted her glass to her lips. As if he’d never seen a vampire drink anything but blood. In fact, Angyalka rarely did, but the advent of a hunter, this hunter, in her bar seemed to call for some special mark.
She made sure he couldn’t see her fangs, though.
“So why,” she asked, lowering the glass after a sizeable sip, “are we sitting here to toast them rather than doing it in their own house at their own party?”
“Because you weren’t there.” Deliberate flattery colored his voice, and yet she picked up no sense of an actual lie.
Why had he wanted her to be there? She had absolutely no intention of telling him or anyone else why she wasn’t, although, just for a moment, she remembered her temptation, her fantasy that she would go. She’d known he, István, would be there…although she’d imagined it would be in a wheelchair. He’d have been dead without Elizabeth’s extraordinary healing powers, which were obviously even more powerful than Angyalka had known.
Exactly what was he up to? Under her steady regard, his lip curled in self-deprecation. She let her gaze hover between his mouth and his eyes but didn’t quibble with his answer. There was no point. Instead, she said, “I have a business to run.”
“A slightly more dangerous business these days, from what I hear.”
“Nothing we can’t handle,” she said, keeping her tone bored. Was that his mission? Checking out her security for the hunters?
“What started it off?” he asked, casually enough.
She shrugged. “Tonight? As usual, young men looking for excitement, something new on which to vent their aggression. They’d obviously heard rumors about this place and had come for a fight. They began by touching up my female patrons—humans as it happened—and trying to nibble their necks. I don’t let my own kind bite here, so I’m damned if I’ll allow it in humans. They objected to being asked to leave, tried to rouse the rest of my patrons into a full-scale brawl. So we ejected them. The fool you intercepted finally caught on to the fact that I’m a vampire and thought it would be fun to bite me.”
His gaze dropped to her neck, and she realized she was rubbing the already healed spot in an involuntary gesture of self-protection. Something flashed in his eyes and was gone. It might have been compassion or understanding or even anger. It was gone too quickly to tell, but in any case, she didn’t like it. If István imagined she couldn’t have ripped the throat out of her attacker in less time than it took him to open his stupid mouth, he was dangerously mistaken.
The hunter dragged his gaze back up to her eyes. “And so you threw him across the room.”
“I did, didn’t I?” she agreed cordially. “It’s as well you caught him. He’d have gone right through the door. And then I’d have had the police and Saloman and probably a whole lot more hunters cluttering up my bar. Closing down my bar.”
He smiled faintly. “You’d have a promising career in shot-putting.”
“I have the wrong build.”
“Oh no,” István said, just spontaneously enough and fervently enough to take her by surprise. She felt an annoying blush begin to rise through her neck to her face and raised her glass to hide it.
He didn’t look away, so she set down her glass with a definite bump.
“And so,” she mocked, “you’re asking me to believe that you left your friend’s party to come here for the sake of my—beaux yeux?”
“Why not?” he countered. “Why else would I come? Alone?”
She leaned her head back against the sofa to regard him. “Because you’re bored,” she guessed and saw immediately that she’d struck home. At least to some extent. His eyelids drooped, but she kept going. “Because you like to break rules occasionally. Because you’re researching how my enchantments work.”
She might not have seen István, the scientific hunter, in eighteen months, but she’d heard about him. There was talk among the vampires that he was developing some instrument to store enchantments.
His eyebrows lifted. His gaze remained steady. “Why would I do that when I have an enchantress closer to home?”
“Elizabeth?” she guessed before answering his question. “Because mine harness the energies of those in the club to mask the whole building.”
She had the impression that now it was István’s turn to hide, or at least to buy himself some time, by drinking champagne.
He said, “You’re surprisingly open about it.”
“Why not? You know that already. It’s why you’re here.”
“What makes you think that?”
“I run a bar,” she said dryly. “I hear things. And the latest thing I hear is the hunters’ project to harness psychic energy in a physical tool, as the late and unlamented Gavril did with the child Robbie to cause earthquakes.”
István tried not to stare. “Vampires talk about that?”
“It’s of great interest to vampires. Most of them haven’t even worked out how this place is protected, so trust me, yes, they’re interested.”
“In what way?”
“Every way you can think of,” Angyalka said. “Isn’t it as well we’re no longer enemies?”
“As I understand it, we still have enemies. Just not necessarily the same ones.”
“As evidenced by your presence? And the fact that in tonight’s brawl you grabbed the human and not me? Of course,” she added as he inclined his head, not quite seriously, “the night is young.�
�
A smile began to play around his lips and eyes, as if he were happy to banter with her some more. Unexpectedly, something fluttered and tingled in the region of her stomach and slid lower. Oh yes, she could banter with him and a lot more. It was curiously fun, with an edge that, because he was a hunter, awoke every nerve in her body.
Memories of their previous encounter bombarded her: clamped against his body by his steely arms, his palm just touching both breasts as he held the stake over her heart; the ridge of his erection growing and hardening to the teasing of her hips…
“Young by vampire standards at least,” she continued, filling the silence. “Although the humans are beginning to leave.”
“It’s midweek,” he managed, as though annoyed with himself for missing some vital opportunity. He picked up his glass and downed the contents. “They work for their living.”
She raised her eyebrows. “You think I don’t?”
“On the contrary. You have at least three businesses that I know of.”
She reached for the bottle. The jet bracelet on her right wrist jangled against the glass. A matching ring adorned her middle finger. She liked the set.
“So what do you think of my latest venture?” she inquired, refilling his glass and topping up her own half-full one.
“The art gallery downstairs? I don’t know. I couldn’t see in the window.”
“You should come in the daytime when it’s open,” she advised, lifting the glass. She drank a little. “Or I can give you a private viewing on your way out.”
István paused, the glass halfway to his lips. “Are you trying to mug me or just get me to fuck off?”
Laughter bubbled up. “No, I’m still trying to guess why you’re here now. You can research enchantments any time. And unless I’m very much mistaken, Saloman, the master of all enchanters, is at Maximilian’s.”
His smile broadened. His gaze dropped to her lips; his breath seemed to catch, and, suddenly off balance, she took a sizeable gulp of champagne. The bubbles soothed and excited her at the same time. Much like the hunter himself. Every inch of her was suddenly aware of him sitting so still by her side, not even touching.
Blood of Angels (Book 2 of the Blood Hunters Series) Page 3
