The Thorndyke Trilogy 2: Dancing at Midnight

by Lynne Connolly

  Nathan shrugged. “It’s not really to my taste, but I have to congratulate you in securing the premises.” Because if he’d had the slightest inkling of the PHR setting up shop here, he’d have bought the place and razed it to the ground.

  “Thank you.”

  If he killed this man now, what would happen? Kristen would get caught in the crossfire. He wanted Kristen out of here and somewhere safe. There was only one place he considered safe enough for her. In his arms. Fuck separate apartments. She belonged with him.

  * * * *

  Kristen felt dreamlike, floating, but she had enough sense to recognize Nathan. Although instinct told her to go to him, Trent had given her the power and knowledge to resist.

  Nathan appeared more sinister than usual, his smooth, sophisticated front a cover for something more savage and primal. While it scared Kristen, it also intrigued her, even after what Trent De’Ath had told her about him, that he was a vampire. She couldn’t trust him. He was an enemy of her kind, an anathema. He’s an enemy to normal people. Although she recited the mantra in her head by rote, deep inside, rebellion stirred. She felt slightly sick, as if wanting to vomit the lies out.

  He disturbed something inside her, disrupting her quiet certainty that he was evil.

  He was. He’d seduced her, taken her away from her family and the things she really wanted, perverted her so she was happy to appear naked at his club. He was evil. Trent said so.

  Except that memories surfaced of the way Nathan had held her in the dance, of his tenderness to her right before he left her, of his generosity to his employees.

  And his passion. He opened himself fearlessly in bed, and more than once she’d glimpsed a core of integrity underneath the cynicism.

  Unless that was a trick. But it didn’t appear that way to her. Trent didn’t have it all right.

  Yes he did. Nausea rose, this time stronger, and she fought back the doubts crowding into her mind. He was right. This man, this beautiful man calling himself Nathan Beaumont, was a perversion. He was something that should never exist, something wrong, and she had to be brave and do what Trent told her.

  Her head swam. She stood and held out her hand to Nathan. Her fingers shook, but when he enclosed it in his warmth, she stopped trembling. “You can come back here if that’s what you want,” he said steadily, as if explaining something to a child.

  She was no child. A flash of anger zipped through her, but she quelled it when she glanced at Trent. She smiled, a bland, normal expression, one she might bestow on a future employer, someone she wanted to please. “You have a great little place here. I think I’ll fit in better here than at Maskerade. And you’re not asking me to take my clothes off.”

  “No I’m not, nor would I ever do that. Whatever you do must be up to you. You have to make those decisions.” Trent had helped her to understand that she was being exploited and used. After all, she’d never intended to sleep with Nathan, but he’d appeared in her room stark naked and taken the decision away from her. It was almost rape. The way Trent explained it made her situation so much clearer.

  When Trent had kissed her, he’d cupped her chin and given her a reverential, quiet kiss, much more the kind of caress she was used to. They might have taken it further, but Trent had received a call on his cell and grimly told her that a pissed-off Nathan was talking to her brother at the bar. “Don’t worry,” he’d told her before she could express her anxiety. “I’ll make sure Stuart comes to no harm. One of the doormen is close and protecting him.”

  “Do you think Nathan will hurt him?” Her tension rose several notches, and she fought to keep her breath even. Stuart was one of the dearest people in the world to her. If anyone hurt him, she couldn’t bear it.

  “We won’t let him. Your brother is safe.” Because of course Trent had guessed Stuart was her brother.

  That was another reason to leave Maskerade and come to Vampire Heaven. She could be done with the lie and let the legend of the ballerina turned stripper die. Because for all the fancy ballroom dancing, that was all it was. A strip, with men leering at her, watching the parts of her that she should only display to a few people in her life. Not every man in the audience would be a gynecologist, and her future husband wasn’t here. Yet. At that, Trent had smiled warmly at her.

  Did he want her in that way? She wasn’t averse. He’d gently taken her in his arms and kissed her again before releasing her and sitting on his side of the desk, as if they were discussing the job rather than their personal affairs.

  Nathan had broken into all that, and she hated him for it. Now she had to go with him and find out what she could for Trent.

  So she took Nathan’s outstretched hand and let him draw her to his side, but although she told herself she hated every second of it, something inside her warmed and burned.

  She couldn’t understand it, but it made it easier to say good night to Trent and let Nathan lead her outside. The man introduced to her as Terry gave her a friendly nod as Nathan pulled her away. Nathan seemed to take his time, but they crossed the small room rapidly and then the larger one, not even pausing to say good night to her brother. When she tugged, trying to lead him to the bar, Nathan ignored her, his superior strength easily subduing her.

  Outside the club, a sleek black limo waited. Nathan didn’t hesitate but ushered her into the vehicle, one proprietorial hand against her back.

  Trent had suggested that if she was nice to him, she could discover more about Nathan. But the notion made her uncomfortable. She tried to move along the seat, mildly surprised when Nathan didn’t stop her. He sat on the opposite corner of the long, leather-upholstered seat, his legs crossed, the free one swinging gently. She stared out the window, watching the nightlife of Chicago stretch out before her. The lights, the drunks, the elegantly dressed clientele of the more upmarket places, and the tourists pausing at every club that said Blues or some variation on it to peer inside and study the menu.

  Looking at them was better than facing the menace inside the big car. When Trent had explained what she’d gotten herself into and asked her to help, the task sounded easy. Now, with Nathan’s presence, her nerves threatened to choke her.

  They drove past Maskerade, the lights illuminating her—Isadora’s picture. “I don’t like that.”

  “What?” He spoke softly, but she didn’t turn to face him. “The poster?”

  “Yes. I’m not sure it’s not violating our contract.”

  “We took great care to remove any distinguishing marks. You’re in the typical ballet pose in a typical ballet costume. We could impose several pictures over this one, and they would be so similar it would be hard to tell the difference. All the poster says is that a ballet dancer is changing genres. Someone who has worked in Europe.” He paused. “We’ve already had a few challenges.”

  Her heart pounded, so loud she was afraid he’d hear it.

  “We told anyone who objected to sue. Nobody has, and as far as we know, nobody has given any serious attention to it. They were bound to protest, but the fact that the calls named different dancers is something we can use in our defense, if we have to. Don’t worry. We’re covered. Besides, after your debut, I plan to replace it with one of you. Indisputably you.”

  “With you?” She turned to face him. His eyes glittered in the gloom, making him otherworldly. Was it true? Was he really a vampire? Right now, he looked superhuman, something more than… Though more than what, she wasn’t sure. People possessed charisma. They didn’t have to be anything paranormal to do that. But he seemed bigger somehow, more menacing.

  “With Steve,” she reminded him.

  “Yes, of course. But I’ve changed my mind. I’ll be there on opening night. Even if I’m in the office.”

  How she wished she could go back a couple of weeks before she got into this mess! She’d take back everything but the sex, and she wouldn’t have missed that for the world. Vampire or no, Nathan was the best fuck she’d ever had. Until tonight, she’d wanted more, but now
that was impossible.

  The rest of the drive to the apartment building passed in silence. When the car pulled up, he opened his door and leaped out. He came around to her side before she could exit on her own. Courteously he helped her out, then gave the driver a word of thanks. The car pulled away from the curb as he guided her into the building.

  They didn’t stop at her floor. When she tried to get to the bank of buttons, he stood before them and shook his head. “You’re coming up to my place tonight. We have a few things to discuss.”

  Yes they did, although she’d wanted to start in the morning, after she’d had time to sleep.

  His penthouse never failed to evoke awe, especially at night when the lights of Chicago stretched before them like their own private entertainment. She paused when she stepped through the door, and he came up behind her, slipping his arms around her waist and linking his fingers over her stomach. Kristen fought her impulse to lean back into his warmth. Fear sent chills up her spine as the push-pull of deep sexual attraction versus what Trent had told her struck her with full force.

  He kissed the rim of her ear, very gently. “Did you think I couldn’t read what he’d done to you?”

  The soft words made the hairs on her body stand on end. “I— He didn’t do anything. One kiss. Two.”

  “Not that, although I owe him something for that. Did he tell you what he thought I was?”

  Right to the point. So she’d get right to the point too. “He said you’re a vampire.”

  He chuckled. “I thought you didn’t believe in those?”

  “I don’t,” she said, too fast. Her breath was quickening, her breasts heaving with the effort to keep control of herself. The closer he got, the more she became convinced Trent was telling the truth.

  Nathan would bite her now. He’d probably done it before. Trent said they put the victims in a trance before they bit and removed all evidence of what they’d done after. Tension tightened her muscles.

  His teeth grazed her neck in what might have been a lover’s caress, except she knew better. Then his lips touched her, sealed, and he sucked very gently. But he released her after one more soft kiss. “I don’t want to mark you before your debut. Did you really believe him? I’m no more a vampire than you.”

  “He talked to me about Stu. Said what a good man he’d employed. That’s all.” Desperation made her voice rise in pitch. She had to get it down again, behave normally. Or as normally as she could manage.

  “Uh-huh.” He lifted his head, and she tried not to breathe out in relief. He paused before he said, “Sweetheart, I might have to hurt you a little.”

  “You’ve bitten me before?” This time she tried to make her words comical, but the light tone failed when she trembled.

  Gently he turned her in his arms so she was facing him. “I’m not a vampire.” He gazed at her, his eyes sincere. “You can enter my thoughts. Do it. I can lie to your face, I can lie with my body, but I can’t do it when you’re deep in my head. I’ll open everything to you if you do the same.”

  “W-what?”

  He clicked his tongue. “Never mind. I was trying— I’d better show you.”

  Warmth suffused her head, but not the heat of a headache. Instead it was a comforting, sweet heat, so seductive she swayed toward him.

  He held her firmly so he could look her in the eyes. “Do you feel that?”

  She licked her lips. “Yes.”

  “Go into it.”

  She glanced down. Trent said Nathan would try to hypnotize her. That was how vampires prevented their victims from remembering. Eye contact could be dangerous. “I don’t know.”

  “Do you fear me? You should, sweetheart. I need to read you, and to do that I need to get right into your head. I’m not as skillful as some, but I’ve been around a while, and I’ve learned a trick or two.” The heat increased but not uncomfortably.

  Then a sharp needle-like pain agonizingly pierced her brain. She cried out. He held her firmly, but the pain stopped like a flash of lightning, gone as soon as it appeared. Then another. “You’re stabbing me!”

  “I’m not as well prepared as I might be. Hurting you is killing me.” He sounded breathless, as if he’d just completed a sprint. “Once more, sweetness.”

  The pain flared again, and this time lasted a little longer. At least, she thought so, but it was hard to judge since she would be writhing in agony if he wasn’t holding her steady. Jagged shards of emotions cut her from the inside, the little cuts slicing into the barriers she’d built so painstakingly. She cried out, voicing the pain. His face contorted, but he didn’t relent. She felt him inside her head, skimming past her secrets, searching for something, and then he was gone. She felt it, knew it was him. Open and vulnerable, she could do nothing but let him do what he wanted. Tears rolled down her cheeks, scalding her skin, but she didn’t try to wipe them away.

  Sweeping her up into his arms, he took her into the bedroom. She was too limp to resist, too numbed by what had just happened to her.

  He laid her on the bed, as if she’d break. Perhaps she’d shatter into a million fragments. Then he sat next to her and took her hand, a development that startled her enough to make her stir.

  This was Nathan. The man who’d made love to her with tender passion and savage force, all with her eager compliance. The man who was doing everything to help her, who had shown her nothing but generosity. How could she ever have doubted him? What had gotten into her? Something had broken, or released, and she felt herself again.

  “What did you do?”

  “I broke the thrall. De’Ath hypnotized you. He’d laid a small trap, which I defused. That’s why it hurt so much. It’s hard to describe it, except that it’s a bit like a mental bomb.” His mouth flattened. “I’ve defused too many of those in my time. Would you like anything? Painkillers or water?”

  When she shook her head in response, she discovered the pain had completely gone. In its stead a lightness prevailed, as if something heavy had left her, like the aftermath of a thunderstorm.

  He was stroking his thumb over her palm in an absent gesture but watching her closely. “Do you feel any different?”

  Yes, she did feel different, but she couldn’t describe how. She gazed at this man she’d suspected of God knew what a few moments ago and felt none of that deep suspicion. “Have you hypnotized me instead?” She cleared her throat, choking back the tears that clogged it.

  “No. He did. Trent De’Ath did. Can you remember what happened when you went into the club?”

  Clearly. “I went in and talked to Stu, and then Trent came up to me and we sat down to have a drink.”

  “What did you drink?” he asked sharply.

  “Beer. From the bottle.” She paused, thinking back. “Trent bought me another, a different brand.”

  “Fuck.” Nathan ran his hand through his hair, pushing it into spikes. “He gave you something to make you more susceptible.”

  She had no concrete reason to believe Nathan, but it made sense. Complete, sickening sense. Yes, the second beer was a different brand. Why would Trent do that, except to ensure that whatever he gave her tasted different so she wouldn’t know if he slipped something in there? He’d handed her the drink himself.

  “Why did he want to do that?”

  Nathan closed his eyes. “Because of what I am and what he is.”

  She sat up, ignoring the way the world swam around her. The dizziness was much less this time. “What did he give me?”

  Nathan shrugged. “How do I know? I’m not a pharmacist, though if you’re worried, we can find out. Something to make you susceptible, maybe a tranquillizer. He sat close to you and maintained eye contact?”

  Gloomily, she nodded.

  “Do you remember what he asked you to do?”

  Trent had repeated one request a number of times. “To watch you and come back and tell him what you were doing. And to humor you.” She shuddered.

  “Does humoring me mean this?” Gently, he stroke
d her cheek, then cupped it and leaned forward. His kiss was soft and reverential.

  “Something like that.” How could he make her smile at a time like this? Yes, Trent had meant sex. Would anyone who cared about her ask her to do that for him?

  At last her brain started working again. Everything Trent had done was wrong. He’d instructed her to do unethical things that made her uncomfortable, using the war against vampires as an excuse. Surely if vampires were real and the enemies of humankind, they’d have heard more than legends before this? “He told me to sleep with you, to lie to you, and to report to him. He wanted me to do anything I could to get to you.”

  “What did he want to know?” Up to then Nathan had remained silent, watching her carefully, waiting for her to work things out for herself.

  “He wants to know what you do, how you behave. When you bite me and how much blood you take. Do you?”

  “Take blood? No. I told you, I’m not a vampire. Do you believe me?”

  “Yes.” If he wanted to bite her, surely he’d keep her around longer after they fucked. Or try to seduce her, to get her to become his blood slave. No, that was Trent talking again.

  His face relaxed into a smile. “Good. I’m glad.” He watched her, speculation in his eyes. “I think you should sleep now. And if you were wondering, on your own. Rest, and we’ll talk in the morning.”

  Too much had happened for her to resist him. He left her alone then. After a quick shower, she put on T-shirt and fresh panties and climbed into bed. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

  * * * *

  Kristen awoke to the scent of fresh coffee and the simple happiness of a new day. She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, then threw back the covers and went to the bathroom to freshen up, returning to the bed when she had finished.

  It felt odd to be alone in this big bed. Just as she had decided to go and find Nathan, a soft tap came on the door. Smiling, she bade him come in, and he did, bearing the blessed beverage. He put the white mug on the bedside table and sat on the bed. When he reached for her hands, she gave them to him gladly.