Drawn to the Vampire (Blood and Absinthe, Book 4)

by Chloe Hart

  “Vampire.”

  Chapter Three

  So she knew the truth about him. Well, that in itself wouldn’t make the earth shake. The truth wasn’t really a threat to him, not here—not when he’d been playing nice for so long.

  No, the truth alone wasn’t a threat. But there was something else about this child…

  He supposed that technically she wasn’t a child—at least by human standards—but she couldn’t be much more than twenty or twenty-one. Young. And yet there was something there, something Luke could sense in the air between them, like electricity.

  He frowned.

  “You’re Fae,” he said abruptly. “That’s how you know about me.”

  The girl took her hand from his chest and backed away a few steps.

  “Yes and no,” she answered cautiously. “I’m an eighth-blood Fae, but I’m not a warrior or a spellcaster. I don’t have any special abilities. My brother was the one who was called as a warrior. He’s the reason I’m here. The favor I was talking about.”

  “Your people will have told you I’m no threat to the human race. I haven’t taken a life in over a hundred years. So you’re not here to kill me.”

  “No. Like I said, I came to ask for your help.”

  She was more human than Fae. She’d gotten past the porter and the defenses around the University, so she couldn’t be a direct threat, but still…she had to be the woman behind Merton’s “intimations”. Luke closed his eyes briefly, the better to use his other senses.

  Danger? Yes, there was danger here. He could sense that much, even though he was far from being a psychic adept like Merton. What he couldn’t sense was the scope of it, or for whom it was greatest. It might be that the girl herself was in danger.

  Power? Yes, in spite of the girl’s insistence that she had no special abilities. Perhaps they were buried deep.

  So what else was he picking up? There was some…flavor on the wind, something he’d never sensed before in all his long existence.

  Whatever it was, it sure as hell had the potential to alleviate the boredom that had assailed him lately.

  He opened his eyes. Why not? he thought. It couldn’t hurt to hear what the girl had to say.

  Besides which, she wasn’t exactly an eyesore.

  In fact, once you got past her irritating personality, she bordered on mouthwatering. Silky blond hair, cut in an elfin style that enhanced wide cheekbones and an opinionated little chin. Big gray eyes with a fire behind them. A mobile, sensitive mouth that could express emotion with one twitch of the lips.

  And her body?

  She wasn’t tall, and he thought she was slender, but it was hard to tell under the bulky down jacket she wore.

  “Take off your coat and stay a while,” he said suddenly, flashing a grin. Question his charm, would she? The little chit would pay for that one.

  She looked at him suspiciously, surprised by his abrupt change in manner, but after a moment she nodded and started to remove the jacket.

  “Let me help with that,” he murmured, crossing the space between them before the coat had slipped from her shoulders. He put his hands on her upper arms and slid the jacket down the rest of the way, deliberately pulling the girl close for a brief second as he divested her of the garment.

  He heard her sharp intake of breath and sensed her quickening heart beat, and he permitted himself a smile of satisfaction. Then he stepped back, her coat dangling from one hand, and his eyes widened in appreciation.

  The black turtleneck she wore covered her skin, but it also clung to curves that were deliciously perfect, from her full, round breasts to her tiny waist. The shirt was tucked into a pair of jeans, so worn the denim looked as soft and thin as a handkerchief. They were formfitting enough that he could continue to follow the lines of her body until he’d drunk his fill.

  “Hey! Cut that out!”

  The girl’s voice, crisp and commanding, broke through his sensual reverie.

  He frowned at her. “Cut what out?”

  She waved a hand at him. “That thing you’re doing. The ogling. Like you’re undressing me with your eyes.”

  He raised one eyebrow. “I guess there are better ways to undress you,” he murmured, tossing her jacket so it landed on the back of a chair and putting both hands on her curving hips before she had time to react. In the next instant he’d tugged her turtleneck out of the waistband of her jeans and laid his hands on the bare skin of her waist.

  He was prepared for her reaction: a gasp and an effort to pull away, at which point he tightened his hold instinctively. That was all part of the game.

  What he wasn’t prepared for was his own reaction.

  A bolt of something, like white hot lightning, seared through him and left him shaking. His eyes, which he’d closed to better enjoy the sensation of soft bare skin against his palms, snapped open and met hers.

  Nothing supernatural in their depths that he could see, and the mere fact that she was part Fae shouldn’t cause a reaction like this. The only thing he could see in her wide gray eyes was the furious indignation he’d expected given her obvious orneriness.

  So what the hell was happening? He could still feel it: some kind of connection, like a ripple of power between them.

  He jerked his hands off the girl as if she’d burned him.

  “Did you feel that?” he asked sharply.

  The girl was breathing hard and her expression indicated a strong desire to kill him. “Yes, you idiot, I felt that! I was standing right here. I don’t let guys get that close after a first date, much less after five minutes. This is how you get girls? My God, how desperate are the women around here? If you ever try that again I’ll—”

  “Shut up. Did you feel something strange when we touched skin to skin? And before you make any sarcastic remarks, I mean strange as in supernatural strange.”

  “What, like the earth moving under my feet? No, Arrogant Undead, I didn’t feel anything supernatural. What are you talking about, anyway?”

  He stared at her a moment and then backed off a step or two. “Forget it,” he said, trying to speak coolly. “Come to think of it, let’s both forget it. As in all of this. As in you can go back where you came from, sweetheart. I’m not interested in your problem and I’m definitely not interested in doing you a favor.”

  She was staring at him in exasperation. “Listen to me, you jerk. Just because you felt something supernatural when you groped me doesn’t mean I’m going anywhere. As it happens, I’ve got the perfect solution for your little problem. Don’t touch me again. Ever. Now, are you going to listen to what I have to say, or do I have to get cranky?”

  In spite of himself one corner of his mouth quirked up. “This doesn’t qualify as cranky?”

  “Not even close.”

  The girl was right. He only had to avoid touching her if he didn’t want to experience that odd reaction again.

  Although not touching her might actually be a challenge, given how adorable she looked at the moment with her hands on her hips and her eyes flashing with indignation. It had been a long, long time since any woman had fought him like this. Usually he found it all too easy to get through their defenses to the lonely heart-hunger beneath. Human women were so pathetically desperate for intimacy…

  Somehow, he didn’t think this girl was desperate for anything except the favor she’d come here to ask.

  He sighed. “All right, then. Sit down and tell me whatever you came here to tell me, since that’s obviously the only way I’ll ever get rid of you.”

  He indicated two armchairs by the fire, and, after giving him one quick, suspicious stare, she walked over stiffly and sank down into one of them. Those chairs were deep and comfortable, and Luke saw her relax for just a moment, her shoulders sagging briefly, before she jerked herself upright again.

  Luke smiled grimly as he took the other chair. She was tired, probably exhausted, but damned if she was going to show any weakness in front of him. This girl had some strength in her, al
l right.

  He settled back comfortably in his own chair, putting his hands in his pockets and stretching his legs out in front of him, one booted foot hooked over the other. Then he simply waited, watching the firelight and shadow dance across the girl’s slender form and shining blond head.

  She took a deep breath and began.

  “You know about the Fae, obviously. I don’t have to explain who we are and what we do, those of us who are called as warriors, anyway—”

  “You kill my kind,” Luke said politely. “A noble profession. Definitely predisposes me in your favor.”

  The girl flushed. “I’m not a warrior myself,” she said shortly. “And they only kill you if you take human lives. As long as you’re…” she hesitated a moment and then deliberately continued, “tame, then they’ll leave you alone.”

  That annoyed him, as she’d no doubt intended, so he carefully gave no sign of it.

  “Isn’t that nice. Well, then, you’ve told me you’re not a warrior, although you have Fae blood. Are you going to tell me what you are? You could start with your name.”

  “Oh.” She blinked at him. “Haven’t I mentioned that? Sorry. My name is Catherine Bantry. People usually call me Kit.” She frowned suddenly. “Friends, that is.”

  “I’ll make it a point to call you Miss Bantry, then,” he said drily. “I’ve think I’ve heard of your family. There was a William Bantry a few generations back with quite a reputation.” He bowed slightly. “My compliments to your forbears. I’ve no doubt your brother is a noble addition to the Green Fae clan. I thought that kind of vocation ran in families, though. How is it you never became a warrior?”

  She shrugged. “I was never called, thank God. I never had the least interest in swords and magic and learning to fight creatures like—well, like you,” she finished with a little smile.

  Luke caught himself starting to smile back and spoke quickly to cover it. “What do you do with yourself, then, since you didn’t follow in your brother’s footsteps?”

  “Computers. I fell in love with them when I was eight years old, and I still think they’re better company than most people I know—”

  “That explains a lot,” Luke murmured.

  “—and now I’m a student at MIT.”

  Luke’s eyebrows rose. “Well, well, well. Beauty and brains. Quite a formidable combination, Miss Bantry.”

  She ignored that. “Anyway, Peter and I obviously have very different lives. We keep in touch as much as we can, but our paths don’t cross very often.” Kit swallowed. “Things might have gone on like that forever, I suppose. But now, for the first time, Peter needs my help.”

  “Gotten himself in a little trouble, has he?”

  Kit’s eyes met his. “He’s gotten himself dead.”

  There was a moment of silence, long enough for him to hear Kit’s heart beating in her chest and the flow of blood in her veins. Then Luke cocked an eyebrow. “That’s a pretty permanent kind of trouble, Miss Bantry. What exactly did you think I could do about it? If you had a notion that I could bring him back as a vampire, that process has to begin a bit earlier—”

  “Shut up.” Kit’s voice was trembling and her hands were clenched in her lap. “I’m not here weeping and wailing because I’ve lost my brother. I know dying is part of a warrior’s trade. I can accept that. But that’s not what happened to Peter.”

  Luke frowned. “All right, then, what did happen to him?”

  “He was cast into the underworld. The demon afterlife. The land of the dead. The—”

  “I know what it is.”

  “If Peter had died in battle, I would find a way to let him go. But that’s not what happened. He was fighting demons in the Andes with another warrior when he was cast into some kind of fissure in the mountains. After he fell the fissure closed, and a demon told the other warrior that it was a portal to the land of the dead. He said Peter would be trapped there for eternity.”

  Kit lifted her chin defiantly, and when she spoke Luke heard the steel in her voice. “I’m going to get him out.”

  There was a beat of silence. “I see. And you came to me because…”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You know why. A human being can’t go to the underworld unless they’re cast there by a demon or guided there by someone who’s already dead, like a ghost or—”

  “Or a vampire?”

  “Yes.”

  “You want me to guide you to the land of the dead.”

  “Yes.”

  “Ah,” he said, nodding. “Now we come to it. You want to make a deal with the devil. The only question is, does the devil want to make a deal with you?”

  He leaned forward. “You see, Miss Bantry, I don’t give a damn about you or your sainted brother, and I really doubt—”

  “I’ll pay you.”

  She spoke coldly, her smile gone now.

  Luke sighed. “Oh, this should be good. What exactly are you offering? Gold? Silver? All the jewels in Christendom? That’s always been my personal favorite.”

  She was glaring at him, but there was something else, too: a sudden rush of nervousness he could read in the flush that stained her cheeks and the acceleration in her heart rate. She bit her lip as she hesitated, and for a moment Luke thought she was going to change her mind about whatever she’d been planning to say. Then her chin went up again.

  “I’m offering blood,” she said.

  He frowned at her. “Sorry, I don’t think I quite understand. Are you talking about setting me up with a wholesale supplier or something? Because I’ve already got quite a nice deal worked out with the local butcher shops—”

  She took a deep breath, and her blush deepened. “I’m offering my blood,” she said.

  For a moment Luke just sat there, frozen. He couldn’t have heard her right. Could he?

  As he sat there looking at her, Kit’s gaze faltered and fell. He could sense her racing heartbeat, the rush of blood through her body that heated her cheeks, turning her face bright red. He became acutely aware of her scent, fresh and sweet, overlaid by pheromones of worry and fatigue and nervousness.

  He felt hunger rising in him, the hunger he’d spent lifetimes learning to control. He restrained himself with difficulty.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Bantry. I didn’t quite catch that.”

  “Oh, yes, you did,” she said, her eyes flashing as they met his again. “That’s my offer for your services. Once you’ve taken me to the land of the dead and I have my brother back, you can drink from me.”

  Her words were like a match to a flame, but long discipline kept him from showing it. “I’m not exactly starving for human blood, you know. I do try to exercise restraint, but I’ve definitely…tasted…more than a few women in my time. Why should your blood be worth such a price?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to pretend you don’t know Fae blood is special?” She paused suddenly. “Of course you’ve never tasted it, so maybe you don’t know...”

  She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. “It’s supposed to be the closest thing to heaven a vampire can experience,” she said musingly. “I’ve heard that it gives strength, power, healing…and, apparently, quite a nice little buzz. There’ve been stories of Fae who sell their blood to vampires for fabulous sums.”

  Her eyes were level as they locked with his. “I’m not asking for a fabulous sum. All I want is a guided tour to the land of the dead. I know you’ve been there before, Mr. Cadris. You know how to find at least one of the portals. If you take me there…and if I succeed in rescuing my brother…you can find out for yourself if the stories about Fae blood are true.”

  She cleared her throat. “Of course there will be conditions. You can only have the, um, standard taste. Whatever you usually take. Not enough to kill me or—or hurt me, obviously—”

  She went on talking, but Luke just let her voice fade into the background as he thought about her offer.

  Blood. Of course she was right…her blood would be the sweetest elixir h
e’d ever tasted, and oh, yes, he wanted it. But was he willing to help her out to get it?

  She was saying something now about no extracurricular activities, which he assumed meant no sexual contact. He had to stop himself from smiling at that. She’d feel very differently when the time came.

  He had another moment of doubt when he remembered the skin-to-skin contact between them, but he quickly brushed it aside. He could deal with that, too, when the time came. But to think of him, Luke Cadris, helping a human being…

  Luke’s thoughts took an abrupt turn, and he sat up straight in his chair. He’d be helping a human being. Wasn’t that just the kind of offering Demeter might finally accept? Why in the world hadn’t he thought of this before?

  Luke interrupted the girl in the middle of a sentence.

  “Yes, absolutely, whatever you like,” he said brusquely. “Just write up the contract you’ve obviously constructed in your head, and I’ll sign on the dotted line.”

  She frowned at him. “Are you saying…do you mean you’ll help me?”

  “Good Lord, girl, do you need a form made out in triplicate? Yes, I accept your offer.”

  He felt as close to light-hearted as he’d been in well over a hundred years. This could be it. Soon he’d stand before Demeter again, and this time she would grant his request.

  But before that happened, there would be a little encounter with Kit Bantry that neither of them would ever forget.

  Luke let a predatory gleam come into his eyes as he thought about it, and his eyes roamed over the girl he’d be tasting soon. He was willing to bet he could make her scream, and not with fear.

  Of course the process would undoubtedly ruin her for ordinary men, but that was just too bad. There was always a price to be paid.

  * * *

  Kit stared at Luke Cadris, hardly believing what she’d heard. He’d really accepted? He was really going to help her?

  Apparently so.

  Well, good, Kit thought, feeling oddly let down.

  She’d been so focused on getting to this point, and so nervous about making her offer, that she wasn’t sure what to do next. Plus she was so tired…tired to her very bones.