Alba placed a hand over her stomach to subdue its fluttering. It wouldn’t do for Dimitri to see her lose control. Grabbing hold of her nerves, she exited the coach and made her way to the front door. As she raised her fist to knock, Dimitri opened the door wearing a smile as warm as a summer’s day.
“You must be psychic!” she said.
He put a finger to his temple and laughed. “I told you. I have visions.” After studying her in her best dress he said, “You look lovely.”
“Thank you.” She blushed.
“Where are my manners? Please come in.” He swept his arm gallantly across the threshold.
Alba stepped inside the opulent house and her jaw dropped. It wasn’t as though she was unaccustomed to luxury. After all, her father had been a wealthy Romanian ambassador for many years. Rather, she was in awe of Dimitri’s accomplishment. Considering his humble beginnings, he gave new meaning to the phrase “pulling oneself up by one’s bootstraps.”
“May I take your coat?” Dimitri offered with a hint of the boyish awkwardness he’d shown in Romania.
“Yes. Thank you.”
As he peeled the garment from Alba’s shoulders, his touch on her dress made her wish her shoulders were bare. Clearing her throat, she watched Dimitri drape her coat over his arm in a confident flourish. And when he pivoted to hang it inside the hall closet, Alba admired the width of his shoulders beneath his crisp white shirt and expensively cut waistcoat. Her eyes traveled from the corded muscles of his thighs to his firm backside, and her cheeks heated.
It would be so pleasurable to rekindle the attraction they’d once shared, but she forced away her giddy reaction to him.
Dimitri turned with a smile and steered her into the drawing room. “I’ve taken the liberty of arranging an indoor picnic for us—to celebrate times long past.”
Alba sucked in a breath at the grand display. In the center of the room was a white tablecloth spread over a plush Oriental rug. Mounds of chicken, red grapes, decadent pastries, and shimmering wineglasses covered the tablecloth, and in its center stood a single candle.
Dimitri placed his hands on Alba’s shoulders. She could feel his breath on her neck—and a jolt of lust shot through her. Her eyes fluttered shut in the heat of the moment until she snapped them open in alarm. If she let her defenses melt like the candle dwindling before them, she might throw herself at him.
“The food looks wonderful,” she commented as steadily as she could.
“There’s a Romanian delicatessen off Parker Street. I bought all the placinte, mamaliga, and tuica Mr. Livadaria had in stock. Please.” Dimitri directed Alba to sit with a wave of his hand.
She gathered her skirts and settled at the edge of the cloth. Dimitri planted himself at her side. When their shoulders touched, an ember of attraction kindled. She turned her head and met Dimitri’s stunning topaz stare. Alba’s eyes remained locked on his—until the intenseness between them prompted him to smile. He inclined his head to the side, as if he were about to kiss her, but then somebody entered the room.
“Good evening, Miss Zpda.”
Alba turned to look at the man poised at the edge of the parlor. She recognized the thick-set figure after a moment. “Jochen?” Wide-eyed, she made a move to get up. Jochen Rhessa. She remembered playing with him when they were children. In fact, he had been her only playmate more often than not.
“It’s good to see you, Miss Zpda.” He smiled, showing badly cared-for teeth.
“It’s good to see you too, Jochen. I had no idea you were in London.”
“It’s odd that we are all here, isn’t it?”
“How do you know Dimitri?” she asked in confusion.
Dimitri stood as well. “After Jochen’s father tended to my shoulder wound, he arranged for me and Jochen to room together during medical school.”
“Now Dimitri has been generous enough to offer me a post.”
“I’ve employed Jochen as my butler,” Dimitri explained.
“I can tell by your fine livery.” She smiled. “And how is your father?”
The pleasant expression on Jochen’s face vanished. “I’m afraid he’s dead.”
Alba’s heart stuttered. “I’m sorry. He was such a kind man.”
“Yes, he was.” He turned his attention to Dimitri. “Is there anything you need before I leave for a few hours, Doctor?”
Dimitri shook his head. “No, thank you.”
“Then I will take my leave. Please enjoy your evening.”
Alba’s face flushed as she watched Jochen depart. “I’m sorry I mentioned his father.”
“It’s sad that Dr. Rhessa has passed on,” Dimitri said softly. “He was the first person to give me an encouraging word.”
Dimitri remained solemn. They sat again and Alba tried to lighten the mood. “How did you and Jochen meet up here in London?”
“I came home the other night and he was sitting on my doorstep. Apparently, he had nowhere else to go. So I gave him a job.”
She suppressed the urge to place her hand over his. “That was very generous of you. I suppose you need a lot of help in this place.”
“I do need help, but I much prefer to be alone. With you.” His eyes darkened as he reached for her hand.
Flustered, Alba removed it from his grasp. She picked up a glass filled with tuica and smelled its rich, plum scent. “I thought we were having dinner as old friends.”
“That is what I said.” Frowning, he poured himself some of the potent liquid and took a long sip.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m afraid that living on my own has given me a bold sense of self.” Alba dared look at him again. Her heartbeat surged as he licked the gloss of the drink from his lips.
“Your straightforwardness is something I admire about you,” he said. “In fact, it’s what struck me most when we first met.”
“I remember that day,” she replied as sentiment enveloped her. “I was sitting on a bench outside Stelian Hall. And you were spying on me.”
Dimitri laughed. “You were beautiful enough to force my eyes away from that half-baked groundskeeper of yours.”
Alba clamped a hand over her mouth to suppress a hearty giggle. “You mean Cruvinksy?”
“If he’s the fellow who never wore a belt and always lost his trousers, then yes.”
They shared a laugh at the old man’s expense. When their chuckling subsided, Dimitri sighed. “Do you remember what we carved in the oak tree by the pond?”
She blushed furiously and looked down at her plate. “Yes. ‘Dimitri loves Alba. And she loves him back.’” She could almost feel the deep indentations in the rough tree bark. After all, she had traced the letters a thousand times when Dimitri disappeared from her life.
“That summer was magical, wasn’t it?” he asked.
She raised her stare to meet his. “Yes.”
The twinkle in his topaz eyes enchanted Alba as it had in her youth. Suddenly she missed the way he had wrapped her in his arms when she was fourteen—and the way he had whispered his undying devotion. Dispelling the notion, she bit into a drumstick.
Dimitri drank more tuica. “We got into a great deal of trouble the last time we were together in Romania.”
“I hate to think of it,” Alba said darkly.
“We shouldn’t have gone to Bran Castle in the first place. I regret dragging you into that horror.”
“As much as I try to put the dare out of my mind, I still dream of it.”
In the dancing candlelight, his golden brown eyes shimmered and his hair glistened with every shade of brown and black imaginable. She put a hand to her heart to slow its hasty thrumming.
“I dream of that night too,” he whispered.
A spine-tingling silence filled the air. Dimitri reached up and traced the line of her jaw.
Buzzing with inner excitement, Alba watched him lean in for a kiss. His mouth claimed hers gently at first, but when eagerness prompted her to whisper his name, every lustful emotion they�
��d shared came surging forward. Inflamed, Dimitri gathered her to him. The feel of his body crumbled her every defense and awakened her every desire. Head reeling, Alba let him squeeze her in his arms.
Dimitri’s tongue plundered its way past her lips. He dropped his hand from her face to her waist, and her heartbeat accelerated again. Can he hear its beating? Alba wondered. Can he feel the heat rippling through me?
A thrill danced along her spine. Her muscles tightened and a warm quiver vibrated between her legs.
With his mouth still clamped to hers, Dimitri bore her back. He inched his knee between her thighs, cradling her head with the kind of gentleness one uses with a baby. Then, as his fingers got lost in her hair, he spread his weight on top of her. He murmured ear-blushing compliments along the column of her neck, and happiness overcame her—a feeling she hadn’t experienced in a very long time.
Dimitri used his confident hands to find her breast through the fabric of her dress. And as he fondled it with abandon, Alba felt dizzy, as if she were caught in a whirlpool. Her pulse spiked as he unbuttoned the front of her dress and exposed her breast. In a sensual motion, he licked his fingertips and then stroked her darkened nub erotically. A surge of moisture flooded the space between her legs.
Dimitri seared her lips with another hot kiss. Tears sprang to Alba’s eyes because she had finally released the sense of loneliness that had gripped her ever since she came to London.
My God. It had only been six days since he’d appeared with his beguiling smile and dark allure and he was already bringing out her vulnerabilities. Suddenly their intimacy felt wrong.
I must be careful. For all I know, Ileana sent Dimitri.
“I can’t,” Alba cried. Breaking free, she sat upright. “I’m sorry—”
Dimitri bolted to a sitting position as well. Face flushed, he raked a hand through his precisely layered hair. “No, no. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
She felt the color drain from her face. As her tears threatened to spill, she spun her head away.
Dimitri covered her quaking fingers with his steady ones. “I’m still so attracted to you. But I will settle for being your friend.”
Alba allowed him to see her tears. He reached up and swept them off her face. His touch was as hot as a fully charged fire.
“I cannot be your friend because I must protect my emotions,” she said. “To be honest with you, I’m frightened to see what you might bring back to my life. Your being here reminds me of all the terrible things I left behind. My stepmother—”
“—knows you’re here in London,” he interrupted.
Alba jerked back. Her hand flew to her mouth. “How does Ileana know where I am?”
Dimitri’s expression dimmed, taking with it the desire she had seen in his eyes a moment ago. “I wasn’t going to tell you, but I think you deserve to know. Simona paid me a visit.”
“Simona? I heard she’d drowned herself in the Olt River.”
“She did.”
“Then I don’t understand. If she’s dead, how could she have told you about my stepmother?”
Dimitri shifted in an uncomfortable manner. “Simona committed suicide. And according to Romanian folklore, you know what happens to someone who takes their own life, don’t you?”
The words sent a blow to Alba’s abdomen. “They become a vampire.” The prediction from the graveyard . . .
“Simona has remained connected to the Dark Arts,” Dimitri said. “It was she who stole the amulet and convinced me to give it to you. She claims that your stepmother contacted her with the idea.”
“What?”
“Once you wore it, you became cursed. That was her intention.”
Panic seized Alba as it always did when she thought of Ileana. She bit her lip until it throbbed with pain.
Dimitri went on. “Simona told me that your stepmother knows you are in London. If that’s the case, I haven’t arrived here a moment too soon.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“I didn’t want to worry you.”
She made no attempt to hide her anger. “What else are you keeping from me?”
His face went red.
“Tell me this,” she said. “How did Simona know where to find me?”
“During her search for me, she found you too,” Dimitri replied. “Then she sent word to Ileana.”
A gust of hot fury filled Alba’s lungs. That snake of a girl. From the moment they met, Simona’s attraction to Dimitri was apparent—as was Simona’s disapproval of her. Even in death, the Gypsy girl continued to manipulate things. Together she and Ileana were a very dangerous team.
Will I become a vampire? Or will I fall victim to my destructive stepmother? Or maybe I’ll go down the morbid path laid down by the Egyptian amulet . . .
Alba’s fate seemed doomed any way she looked at it, and it was all Dimitri’s fault. He had introduced her to all these curses, and if he hadn’t come to London, Simona would never have found her. Damn him.
Dimitri reached for her hand while a sympathetic expression spread across his face. “I’m sorry I exposed you to any of this, Alba. I was young—”
“No!” She snatched her hand away. “We can’t blame bad judgment on our youth anymore. We are adults now and Simona has succumbed to the vampire’s prophecy. Who will be next, Dimitri? You or me?”
Dimitri scowled. “You don’t understand. I’m here to prevent anything from happening to you.”
“I can’t be around you. I can’t trust the man who drove me toward this evil in the first place.”
He clutched a hand to his heart, as if she had pierced it with an unrelenting blade. “I never meant to hurt you.”
Her lip trembled. “But you did.”
“Why won’t you let me protect you?” he asked. “You speak of evil but you have no idea the depth of that wickedness.”
“I don’t want to know. I just want to forget all of it happened.”
“Do you think these curses will just go away?” Dimitri growled. “Do you think they’ll disappear if you simply ignore them?”
Her voice shook with emotion. “All I know is that you brought these hexes into my life.”
She stared straight ahead, clasping her hands together in her lap.
Prompted by the sight of Alba closing herself off, Dimitri’s lips formed a hard, straight line. “Well, I see no reason to take up any more of your night.”
He rose, helped her to her feet, and gathered her wrap. A moment later, they stood outside in wait of a hansom—the tension between them so thick the sharpest axe could not have severed it.
Chapter Eleven
As they waited for a hansom, Alba’s harsh words rolled over Dimitri like a crushing boulder. He broke the heavy silence by offering to accompany her home. She refused. When he argued that he needed her to be open to his guidance, she ignored the plea and continued to retreat into her blasted, defensive shell.
I shouldn’t have kissed you, he thought as he watched her cross her arms. He’d known it would lead to arousal—and eventually danger.
Once Alba disappeared into the hansom, Dimitri glanced up and down the street. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. He knew in his heart that Simona had been watching them.
I shouldn’t have brought Alba here. Will Simona follow her home?
Cursing his bad judgment, he marched back into the house and slammed the door. During the indoor picnic, he’d eaten nothing. In fact, he hadn’t consumed food since he became a vampire. The smell and texture nauseated him. Liquor and blood were the only things he put to his lips, and at the moment, he could think of nothing else but the latter. When Dimitri had leaned into Alba’s sweet scent and firm curves, his fangs had descended. It meant that every minute she spent with him she was in peril of being consumed. If he was smart, he’d leave this city and never return. But he couldn’t. Not only did he feel responsible for Alba’s fate, he needed her like a drug.
She was his soul
. . . his everything.
After settling for the last drop of tuica, Dimitri retrieved his cloak and tall hat and rushed into the night. Although it was late, he managed to hail a carriage. Settling on its back bench, he yanked the velvet drapes together for privacy. His thoughts were wild now, jump-started by his lust for Alba. As her image filled his mind, his cock hardened.
He’d blurted out the truth about Simona being in London because he wanted Alba to be prepared for a visit from her. But the reaction Alba gave him struck his heart like a speeding arrow. She wanted nothing to do with him, but he had to get her the hell out of this mess.
Will she ever trust me again?
Dimitri arched a brow as the carriage rambled toward Bloomsbury Street. I’ve made mistakes in the past, but I will not leave Alba as bait for the hounds.
It was Saturday morning and Alba was still reeling over Dimitri withholding information from her. Ileana knew where she was—which meant that this was the calm before the storm. She would have to sleep with one eye open from now on and trust no one.
To steady herself, Alba grabbed the newspaper Edith left on the bedside table. As she held up the paper with quivering hands, her eye was drawn to the front headline.
IS THERE ANOTHER MURDERER IN TOWN?
The article went on to report that a vagabond had been killed several nights ago. The police were linking this murder to an attack on a homeless man several nights previous. While the first vagrant had survived thanks to an interruption in his assault, both victims had been drained of their blood by two puncture holes to the neck.
A vampire at work.
The suggestion that a creature of the night was on the loose cut off the air in Alba’s lungs. Some would say the idea was nonsense— insisting that a delusional person was simulating the way a vampire sucks a victim’s blood. But Alba didn’t think so.
Had Simona killed this vagabond?
She flung the newspaper down. A knock at the door gave her another start. The girls had just gone off to their morning ballet class.
“Who’s there?” she called.
“It’s me. Teddy.”
Snow White and the Vampire (The Cursed Princes) Page 8
