His face was the picture of cold sensuality. The desire was there, but the feeling was lacking. He stared down at her and his dark gaze traveled not to the lips he'd kiss or the breasts he'd fondle but to the spot where her neck met her shoulder, the very spot he'd sink his fangs into, piercing her vein and taking her blood.
Desired for that precious liquid, she was also forced to give him whatever else he desired if she expected to keep up her charade. By the look in his eyes, Solenne saw that he wouldn't be satisfied with just her blood tonight.
"Go to the anteroom. Be undressed when I join you."
Solenne made her way through his office to a smaller room and began to undress as ordered. As she lay her clothes over a rack near the door, careful to make sure they didn't wrinkle and show signs of what she was about to do, she thought of questions she could ask about the order of death against Declan, Rochelle's boring trivia of Avignon, anything to keep her mind off what would happen in just minutes.
Naked, she stood beside the sofa and waited for him to come. He kept the room hotter than the rest of his chambers, but she still stood shaking, her ears trained on the sound of his footsteps across the marble floor.
How long she waited she couldn't tell. It seemed like forever and mere minutes at the same time. When he finally arrived, she had convinced herself once again that no matter what he required, she'd acquiesce knowing this was what she had to do.
He stood in front of her, and she began her part in their terrible play by loosening the tie from his neck. Carefully, she unknotted the silk and slid it from under his collar. He took it from her hand and draped it over the back of the sofa.
"You look lovely, Lena."
His compliment fell on deaf ears, meaningless to her. Solenne's fingers shook as she unbuttoned his shirt, her knuckles vibrating against his Adam's apple as he moaned his pleasure at her touch. Each button undone revealed more of his well-defined chest and stomach, and even as Solenne wished to look away she couldn't avoid the power his body exuded.
Shame flooded over her at the mere thought that the Archon or any part of him could appeal to her. Never once before had she felt anything but revulsion at his presence. Even now, his touch made her cringe and she clung to that sensation as he kissed her, his lips pressing hard against hers demanding her submission.
His hands slid down her sides, and came to rest on her ass, making her shiver as goose bumps erupted on her skin. Squeezing, his hands pulled her toward his body, and she felt his erection press against her near her hip.
"Tonight, we have cause for celebration, dear Lena," he whispered near her ear. His breath hit her skin, and the vicious click of his fangs snapping into place filled her ears.
"Sir?" she asked, struggling to control the trembling in her voice as the fear of him was replaced by a feeling of dread at the thought that as she'd passively sat out at her desk, he'd succeeded in killing Declan.
"I move up in the ranks of the Archons. My time here in France nears its completion once the end of Declan Collins is complete."
Verrater's fangs grazed her skin as he prepared to feed from her, but she pressed for more information, knowing she risked his wrath but not caring. This is what she'd sacrificed so much for, and she would see this through to the end.
"He's been eliminated then?"
His lips moved left and right against her neck as he shook his head. "Not yet, but I have all assurances of success. Now, no more talk, Lena."
The Archon plunged his fangs into her neck as he pressed his fingertips painfully into her shoulders. The combination of his bite and his hold on her should have been too much to bear, but Solenne's mind raced with thoughts. Had Maria told him where Declan was, or had she acted before informing him? Did he believe she'd already succeeded tonight? Or did he know what had happened and was sending another to kill Declan as she stood there forced to let him feed from her? Emily had obviously never met Declan and hadn't been intended as the assassin, so had he simply used her to feel out her own loyalty to him? And what did he mean he was moving up in the ranks and his time in France was near completion? Where was he going?
Solenne felt him pull away from her neck, and she readied herself for what was to come next. He lifted his head and facing her, licked his lips to catch the remaining few drops of blood that had trickled out to the corner of his mouth.
"You are a rare gift, dear Lena," he said as he motioned toward the sofa. She sat and he stood looking down at her as he stepped out of his pants to stand naked in front of her. "A rare gift indeed."
From the other room a voice yelled, "Archon? Are you here?"
Solenne saw the anger cross Verrater's face and leaned back instinctively, expecting his rage to explode around her. Instead, his look changed to one of interest and he quickly dressed.
As he turned to join the stranger in the next room, he smiled. "Next time, dear, we'll pick up where we left off."
Happy for the reprieve, Solenne began to dress and wondered who the man was who held such sway over the Archon. His voice was unfamiliar, and it didn't sound like that of anyone of any real importance like many of the vampires she'd encountered in Verrater's office.
Hoping to see who it was, she finished dressing and hurried out into the other room, but there was no sign of either man.
***
Vasilije relaxed as Terek and Dante talked quietly on the other side of the room. Out of all the Sons, they appeared least affected by the utter lack of progress the group had achieved since gathering in Romania. Terek had taken to the task of guiding the young vampire who was so gifted yet so reckless, but as of yet if he'd had any success in making him more than a clyten, Vasilije hadn't seen it.
"You look a million miles away."
Next to him, Sasa stood with that warm smile that had the power to melt his heart every time he saw it. "No, just a lot on my mind, love."
Taking a seat next to him, she sat quietly for a long time. Vasilije felt calm with her and appreciated just having Sasa near, even in silence.
"Vasilije, have we heard anything from Solenne? I'm worried you all expect too much from her to deal with Saint. He doesn't even like vampire females."
"She's tough, Sasa. She came to us offering her help. Solenne knows how to handle herself and Saint."
To be honest, he wasn't at all sure any woman could handle Saint, least of all Solenne. She was tough, no doubt. But Saint's reaction to her when he'd first realized she was the one vampire willing to help him wasn't promising. And the fact that he still refused her blood was another problem. Without vampire blood, he'd weaken and be vulnerable to attack, which could come at any time.
Sasa squeezed his hand. "I sensed her fear when she first arrived the other night. It was as clear as day. Why would she be afraid of someone you claim was an old friend of hers?"
"Are you sure it was fear you felt?"
Nodding, she said, "I'm sure of it. I know I've had to get used to having my empath ability with being a vampire, but her emotions were so strong when she arrived here, I couldn't help but be affected by them. She was afraid, Vasilije, and now she's stuck in that house with him."
Vasilije questioned why she'd have volunteered to hide Saint in her own house if she feared him. Saint was no doubt difficult, but that had never manifested itself in harming women. He didn't doubt Sasa's empath power, but was there something he and the other Sons were missing about Solenne—something that could be deadly to one of their own?
As he tried to piece together the puzzle of Saint and Solenne, Arnie arrived for a meeting he'd requested. A valuable spy for the group, he was odd, to say the least. By all accounts, he was quite old for a vampire, but he seemed stuck in the 1970s, of all decades.
"Vasilije, what's shakin'?"
Turning to Sasa, Vasilije whispered, "Make sure everyone is out of sight until he leaves."
As Sasa closed the door to his office, leaving the two men alone, Vasilije smiled and offered him a seat.
"Thanks, man. My dogs a
re barkin' tonight."
Arnie sat down across from where Vasilije sat and began tapping his knuckles on the arm of the chair. He made Vasilije somewhat uncomfortable—more edgy than anything else—when he was near. Vasilije had never asked Sasa about her sense of him, but he'd noticed how she seemed to pay very close attention whenever he met with them.
Sasa returned and Arnie began his report. "I have something very interesting. Seems those fuckers are using vampires familiar with the targets instead of hunters. That bitch Tatiana wasn't just some angry woman from your past."
Turning toward Sasa, Arnie raised his hand and apologized. "Sorry about my language."
"No need. Consider me no different than Vasilije."
"Thanks. Using friends and former lovers seems like a nice personal touch to killing someone, don't you think?"
"Do we have any idea who got the nod with Saint?" Vasilije asked as he thought about the Archons' choice of Tatiana as his assassin.
Arnie shook his head. "Not yet, but he's a tough one."
"Why?"
"Because he's had so little contact with his vampires for so long, the Archons are having a hard time locating possible assassins."
"Solenne found out they're portraying him as a sexual deviant who mistreated his vampires," Vasilije said, still not believing this entirely.
"I don't doubt it. They'll do whatever they can to make him Public Enemy Number One."
"It just seems odd that they'd not use who he really is to do that."
Arnie began tapping his knuckles on the arm of the chair again. "Well, I don't know what those bastards are thinking, but I'd put money on Solenne. She's in this body and soul."
Vasilije felt instantly uneasy about his description of Solenne and thought his choice of words odd. Body and soul?
Arnie stood up and straightened his long shirt that hung far below his waist. "I'm out, but I'm keeping my finger on the pulse of the bad guys. I'll let you know when I find something out."
"Thanks for everything, Arnie," Vasilije said as he escorted him to the door.
Ten minutes later, the rest of the Sons sat around Vasilije's office. Turning to Sion, Vasilije saw concern in his expression. "Your face says you have something on your mind."
"How much do we know about who we have spying for us?"
"Solenne was one of Teagan's. I've known her since he turned her. And Arnie, I've known for years. Damian, I don't know at all, but he comes from the Order."
"Let's assume for the moment that Damian is okay since he came recommended from the Order. What about this Arnie guy?"
Vasilije turned to Sasa. "Did you have any sense of him, now or at any other time?"
"He's anxious whenever he's here. That's all I ever get from him."
"He says the Archons are having a hard time choosing someone to do the job with Saint."
"Because there are so many who would agree to do it?" Dante asked.
Vasilije and Terek both shot Dante a look telling him now was not the time for his bullshit with Saint. Silently chastised, he put up his hands as if to say he was sorry and sat back in his chair.
"No. Because he's not close enough to any of them. They don't know where to find him, thankfully. But remember, Solenne said they were going with the sex fiend angle."
Sion folded his arms across his chest. "That hasn't sat right with me since Solenne told us. It makes no sense. Saint's already an outcast to many vampires because he sleeps with human women exclusively. Why make him seem something else when there's already a good enough reason some would like to see him gone? Something's not right."
"Are you saying you have doubts about Solenne?" Terek asked.
"I don't think Sion was saying that. I think he was just expressing what some of us have been thinking," Vasilije said quickly.
"I think we need to be careful. This Arnie guy gives me a bad feeling. And I'm not sure about Solenne either," Sion answered.
"They're all we have at the moment, Sion," Terek said. "And so far, I get nothing odd from Solenne, but I admit I haven't intentionally tried to listen to her thoughts. And as for Arnie, I'll heed Sasa's impression that he simply seems to be a nervous creature."
"Vampires, people, whatever are nervous for a reason, Terek. From now on, I think you should see if you can somehow spend some time in his head to give us an idea what's really on Arnie's mind," Sion warned. "And as for Solenne, the jury's still out for me on her."
Chapter Thirteen
Two hours in Solenne's gym couldn't push the thought of her from Saint's mind. Tonight she was at the Archon's, putting herself in danger to keep him safe as he spent his time in the French countryside. She never spoke of what she was forced to endure there, but he'd noticed her wincing in pain more than once after her visits to that fucking place.
The thought of her hurt at the hands of one of them made him blind with rage. Again and again, he pummeled the bag until every muscle in his body ached, but still his rage remained unabated.
Saint fixed his eyes on the clock. 4:12. She should be back by now.
He'd give her ten minutes more and then do what he should have done the first time he watched her go to that place.
Solenne sat with her head in her hands at the kitchen table, her bruised arms the evidence of her sacrifice. Saint lightly ran his finger over the purple mark where he suspected the Archon had brutally misused her and cringed in anger at the look of pain he saw in her eyes when she looked up at him.
A growl escaped from his lips and his fangs slammed down into his mouth. "Who did this?"
Pushing past him, she shook her head. "Don't. If this is what I have to endure to keep you safe and help the Sons defeat those bastards, then I do it willingly."
"Tell me who did this, Solenne. I owe him."
She spun around to face him, and the pained sound in her voice made him hate himself. "Why? So you can make everything I've done meaningless? So you can get yourself killed?"
Before he could answer, she was gone, but he'd seen the tears in her eyes. Anger mixed with the need to protect her, churning his gut into knots until he had to see her.
He had to let her know what she'd done wasn't meaningless.
Her door was open, and she stood with her back to him. Already out of her clothes, she wore only a tank top and boy shorts that clung to every perfect curve on her body. His cock stiffened as his eyes took in the sight of her gorgeous legs. Long and lean, they were the kind of legs a man loved wrapped around him as he slid in and out of her wet cunt.
"Solenne," he said almost in a whisper to not startle her, but it didn't work. She spun around with her arms covering her full breasts that strained against the thin fabric of her tank top, but she couldn't cover the bruises along her collarbone and across her shoulders.
Obviously inflicted that night, their redness had begun to fade to a deep purple where fingers had pressed roughly into her tender skin. Solenne saw the look of shock he didn't try to hide from his eyes and scrambled to grab a shirt from the back of a nearby chair.
"What is this?"
"Nothing. Just leave it be."
Saint took the shirt from her hand and threw it on the bed. "No." Dipping his head, he softly pressed his lips to the darkest bruise on her left shoulder. Fucking Archon!
Gingerly, he ran his fingers over her skin, gently touching each bruise before raising his head to look at her. "Solenne, I promise you here and now I'm going to kill the one who did this. I'll drain him drop by drop until he begs for the release a stake will bring."
Eyes wide with tears looked up at him, their blue color pale and watery. "Saint, don't touch me like this if you don't mean it."
He meant it. He'd meant it in every dream he'd had of finally returning to her. Taking her face in his hands, he kissed her long and deep, drinking in the delicious taste of the lips he'd missed for so long.
God, he'd yearned to once again feel the touch of her skin next to his! Year upon year of lonely nights interrupted only by pale replacements
ebbed from his memory now as his hands once again learned of the woman he'd always loved.
Solenne molded to him, setting his senses ablaze. His body craved to join with her, to finally reclaim that piece of his heart lost so painfully nearly a century ago. He slid his hands under her shirt to her breasts and worshipped them—their fullness in his palms, their deep pink tips pebbled from desire that begged for his mouth's attention.
"Come."
Taking her hand, he led her to the shower. "Don't move." A quick twist of the faucet handle and warm water streamed down from the showerhead.
"Do I look like I need a shower?" she asked in a teasing tone as he slipped the tank top over her head.
Saint looked down at her sexy mouth as he slid his thumbs under the waist of her shorts. "Always fighting me."
Crouching in front of her, he slid the shorts down her legs and off her feet. Eye level with her pussy, he looked up and licked his lips. "I hope you don't plan on fighting me now."
He didn't wait for a reply before he drew his finger up her wet slit. Solenne's eyebrows knitted and she bit her lip. Her eyes slowly closed and tiny moans filled his ears.
"Don't close your eyes. Watch me."
Solenne obeyed and her eyes grew wide as he slid his thumbs through her delicate folds to open her up, unveiling to his eager eyes her excited clit. Saint inched closer to her soft skin and whispered against her, "I've waited so long for this."
Softly musky, her taste danced on his tongue, thrilling him. He ran his tongue over her clit, eliciting a groan that traveled straight to his cock pushing against his pants. So responsive, she showed her pleasure at every lap against her skin.
"Yes...there. Right there," she cooed.
Her moans grew louder as her climax edged closer. Saint slid inside her slick channel and massaged that spot deep inside her with a fingertip. Her body reacted just as he knew it would, greedily closing around his finger. So close, she tilted her hips to bring him deeper into her.
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