by Chloe Hart
Luke shook his head. But all he said was, “You should take a bath.”
She blushed, thinking about how long it had been since she was clean and how sensitive his sense of smell was. She wondered how revolting it was to be in the same room with her.
“I’ll go out and get you some clothes,” he continued. “That will give you a little privacy.”
She glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “It’s after nine. Will anything be open?”
“Don’t worry about that. I have my sources. I also asked the bellboy to arrange for dinner to be brought here from a local restaurant. Do you need anything else before I go?”
“Um…no.”
“All right then. I’ll be back within the hour.”
* * *
The bath was glorious.
Kit soaked in the enormous claw foot tub until the steaming water had melted away all her tension, not to mention her aches and pains. And thank goodness there were hotel robes hanging on the back of the door. She kicked her foul-smelling clothes into a corner of the bathroom and hoped she wouldn’t have to wear them ever again.
She was a pleasure to the nose now, Kit thought with satisfaction. The soaps and lotions the hotel provided were rose scented, and the luxury of feeling clean and smelling good made her forget how hungry she was until there was a discreet knock at the door. She answered it and a uniformed bellboy walked in carrying an enormous tray loaded with several delectable looking dishes.
By the time Luke returned she was sitting at the table the bellboy had set for her, eating the best food she’d ever tasted in her life.
“Oh my God,” she said with her mouth full as Luke tossed two large shopping bags onto the bed nearest him. “Where did this dinner come from? Is it legal?”
He smiled as he joined her at the table. “Glad you like it. It’s from L’Ambroisie, one of the finest restaurants in the world.”
“No kidding. Luke, you have to try this one. I don’t even know what it is, but—”
He glanced at the dish. “Feuillete de Truffe.”
“Whatever. You just have to have a bite of—”
He shook his head. “Already eaten, thanks. While I was out I visited a butcher who lives around the corner, one who’s used to serving my kind.”
Her fork stopped halfway to her mouth. “Oh,” she said, trying not to sound revolted.
Luke’s expression hardened. “Do you have a problem with that, sweetheart?”
“Of course not,” she said quickly. “You’re a vampire, and you have to eat, and it’s not human blood, so why should I care?” She paused. “You can eat human food, though, right? If you want to.”
“If I want to. But it’s not what sustains me.”
“I know that. I just…forgot for a second.”
“Well, don’t forget again,” he said.
After a moment or two, during which Kit resumed her meal with slightly less gusto, he changed the subject.
“I got you a full kit,” he said, nodding towards the bed. “Pants, shirts, under things—”
“Points for letting the innuendo opportunity go by.”
He ignored that, although a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“There are pajamas, too. You can go to bed right after you finish your dinner, if you like. I’m going to pay a visit to the man I was talking about, the one who knows about the portal.”
Kit put down her fork. “I want to come with you. We’re working together, remember? And it’s my brother we’re trying to save.”
The vampire hesitated. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
Kit frowned. “Is he dangerous?”
“Well…yes and no. He’s a human, but he practices the dark arts, magic and foretelling and that sort of thing. He casts spells for money, some of which aren’t very pleasant, but I’d consider him a small-time operator, so to speak. He’s helped me out more than once. If he agrees to work with you on something, he’s fairly honorable about it. He won’t directly double cross you.”
“Won’t directly double-cross you? That’s not exactly a ringing endorsement—”
“Listen, sweetheart. If you’re serious about this mission of yours, you’d better get used to the idea that you’re going to have to deal with some questionable types. Hell, I’m a questionable type. If you’re more concerned with keeping your lily white hands from touching anything remotely—”
“Enough, I get it. And I’m done eating. So let’s go.”
Luke hesitated again. “You’ll let me do the talking?”
“Fine.”
“Daro likes to provoke people. Can I count on you to keep your cool?”
“Hey, I’m the Queen of Cool.”
Luke covered his eyes with one hand. “I have a bad feeling about this, but we do need a coin of passage. I think you have to be physically present for the conjuring. That means you’ll have to meet him at some point. If you promise to be on your best behavior, you can come with me.”
Kit grinned at him. “I’m always on my best behavior.”
* * *
Ten minutes later the two of them were making their way down a narrow cobblestoned alley. The night was cold, if not quite as cold as the mountains of Wales had been, and Kit was glad for the warmth and softness of the cashmere sweater Luke had brought her. He’d also provided the black jeans and soft leather boots she was wearing, as well as the lacy scraps of material that were currently passing for her bra and panties.
She’d made a sarcastic comment about his underwear choices, and he’d merely replied innocently that this was the norm in Paris and good luck trying to find whatever “sensible” American brand she preferred.
She’d decided to let it go.
The coat he’d gotten her was a much more unalloyed source of pleasure. It was leather, softly lined, and as comfortable and elegant as it was warm.
The man definitely had good taste. Of course after four hundred years he probably knew a thing or two about what women liked. Not to mention how to eyeball their sizes with more accuracy than seemed decent. The bra, for example, fit perfectly.
Kit found that she didn’t like thinking about the four centuries worth of women Luke had done things like this for.
Had he loved any of them?
Not that she cared, of course.
“Here we are,” Luke said suddenly, and Kit looked up to see a dark, seedy looking building. There was a light fixture beside the door, but the glass was broken and the bulb had burned out. Kit drew a step closer to Luke as he rapped the knocker in a pattern she guessed was a signal or code.
The door was answered almost immediately by a grim looking woman in a black dress. Luke asked a question in French and the woman nodded, stepping back so they could enter.
They passed into a dank hallway, and as they proceeded along it Kit almost reached for Luke’s arm. As soon as she became aware of her impulse she stuffed her hands in her pockets. No way was she going to give Luke a reason to think she couldn’t handle herself.
The woman stopped at a door near the end of the corridor and knocked.
“Entrez,” Kit heard a voice call from the other side, and she was relieved at how pleasant and ordinary it sounded. The woman flung open the door, said something in French, and withdrew. Luke stood back to let Kit go through first, and she stepped over the threshold into what looked like a small study.
“Luke!”
The man hurrying towards them sounded delighted, and Kit had an opportunity to observe him as he kissed Luke ceremoniously on each cheek.
He was small and dark and ordinary looking, with thinning hair and round, wire-rimmed glasses. He wore a yellow silk dressing gown and quilted slippers, and when he’d risen to greet them he’d left a pipe, a sherry glass, and a small leather-bound book on the table beside his chair.
“And who is this radiant creature?” he asked in flawless English, turning towards her so swiftly that Kit took a backwards step.
“This is Catherine Bantr
y, of the Bantry Fae clan,” Luke said formally. “Kit, this is Daro, an old friend and a powerful magician.”
“My dear,” Daro said, taking her hand and raising it to his lips, kissing the air just above her fingertips.
“Um, hello.”
“I see you’re in one of your courtly moods,” Luke said, not sounding very pleased. “May we take a seat and tell you why we’re here?” he asked, pulling Kit away from Daro and steering her towards the chintz sofa in one corner of the room.
“Of course, of course,” Daro said smoothly. “No need to stand on ceremony.”
He followed his guests and sat down on a chair facing the sofa. He crossed his legs, adjusting the folds of his dressing gown over his paisley silk pajamas, and placed his clasped hands carefully on his knee. “Tell me all about it, my dears.”
“It’s the Père-Lachaise portal,” Luke said. “We need to know the next night it will be open, and we need a coin of passage.”
Daro regarded them thoughtfully. “The portal to the underworld? Oh, my.” His black eyes slid over to Kit. “Lost someone down there, have you?”
“My brother.”
“I see. Well, it’s very noble of you to go down after him. Dangerous, of course. I imagine the other Fae disapprove of your quest.”
“They’re not thrilled about it, no.”
“An independent spirit. Still, you’re not entirely alone. You’ve found yourself a powerful ally. Have you fallen madly in love with him yet?”
He asked the question lightly, and Kit knew she should answer in kind. But her temper flared and she snapped “Of course not,” before she could stop herself.
Luke laid a hand on her shoulder as if to calm her, but she pulled sharply away and glared at both men.
“Touchy,” Daro commented, his eyes glinting with amusement. “I imagine you have your hands full with this one,” he added, glancing at Luke.
“You have no idea,” Luke muttered as Daro turned to her again.
“It’s only a matter of time, you know. Women can’t seem to help themselves. You’ll fall into his arms just like the rest of them.”
“I’m not like the rest of them, and I have no intention of falling into his arms.”
Daro looked surprised. “But why ever not? I’m sure the experience would be a pleasurable one. If the rumors I hear are true…”
Kit opened her mouth to speak, her eyes flashing, but Luke beat her to it.
“That’s enough,” the vampire said, his voice low and dangerous. The tone raised the hairs on the back of her neck, and she wasn’t even the one he was using it on.
“Kit and I have a business partnership and nothing more. If you’d care to assist us, I’ll be happy to pay your usual fee.”
Daro didn’t seem in the least intimidated. If anything, he seemed pleasurably surprised.
“Why, Luke! If I didn’t know you’d better I’d think you’d actually fallen for—”
Luke moved faster than Kit’s eye could follow. One moment he was sitting beside her; the next he was standing over Daro’s chair with his hand around the other man’s throat.
“Luke!” she cried out sharply, but the vampire wasn’t paying attention to her.
“I’ll pay you five hundred above your usual price, provided you confine your conversation to work-related matters. Do we have a deal? Yes or no.”
“Yes,” the other man gasped, and Luke released him immediately, taking his seat back on the sofa as if nothing had happened.
“My goodness, you’re grumpy tonight,” Daro muttered, touching his throat gingerly. “Very well, I’ll perform the magic for you. It won’t take long. But I’ll need the girl with me when I conjure the coin of passage, since it’s her quest. You will remain here,” he added, frowning at the vampire. “I am not enjoying your company this evening.”
“Fine with me,” Luke said calmly. “Just remember our deal. Only work-related conversation.”
“And here I was so pleased to have guests,” Daro murmured, as he rose to his feet and motioned for Kit to follow him.
She hesitated a moment, glancing at Luke.
“What are you looking at me for?” he asked coldly. “Daro’s right. It’s your quest. Take responsibility for it. If you’re too scared to go with him, then you’re too scared to face what’s to come.”
Well, at least she wasn’t nervous anymore. She was too mad to be nervous.
Kit turned her back on the vampire and followed Daro out of the room.
* * *
The spell itself was almost anticlimactic.
Daro led her down to an appropriately atmospheric wine cellar, one wall of which had floor-to-ceiling shelves stocked with herbs, bottles of all sizes, weapons, and bizarre objects Kit couldn’t even identify. She had no idea what to expect, but when the magician merely sketched a circle around her on the stone floor and muttered a few words, she was sure there had to be more.
“Well? Come on out of there, child. The spell is done.”
Kit stepped out obediently, almost disappointed. “That’s it?” she asked.
Daro smiled as he reached into the circle, picking up a silver coin that now lay inside it. “I know,” he said sympathetically. “You wanted bubbling cauldrons and lightning flashes, didn’t you? Sometimes I throw those in just to make the client happy.”
He placed the coin on her hand and she looked down at it. She realized with a shock of surprise that her own face, in profile, was etched into the silver.
“Give that to the ferryman when you come to the river.”
Kit nodded, recalling that there was a river to cross before you could enter the underworld.
“The portal will open tomorrow night. If that’s too soon, you’ll have another chance eleven days later. And that’s it,” Daro said, smiling at her. “Unless, perhaps, you’d like something else. A love spell? Come, Miss Bantry, no young lady ever turns down a love spell.”
“I’m all set, thanks,” Kit said dryly. “Believe me, Mr. Daro, I don’t have the slightest interest in a love spell.”
“Very well. But you must let me give you something. I insist on it. A cordial for bravery? You can’t refuse that.”
In spite of herself, Kit was intrigued. She didn’t want Luke to question her courage again.
“How does it work?” she heard herself ask.
“It’s the simplest thing in the world,” Daro began smoothly, and that very smoothness made her change her mind.
“No, I don’t think so,” she said. “Really, I don’t want anything else.”
“You wound me, fair lady. You shouldn’t refuse a gift. At the very least, allow me to give you a kiss for good luck.”
He did resemble a satyr more than anything else, Kit thought. But he seemed harmless enough.
“On the cheek,” she warned him.
“Well, of course,” he said, sounding shocked. “I wouldn’t think of anything else. Besides which, Luke would probably rip my head off, and while that’s usually a figure of speech, in his case…” he let the sentence trail off, and while Kit was wondering why Luke would care if Daro kissed her, the small man murmured something under his breath before pecking her lightly on the cheek.
“Good luck with your quest, my dear.”
Kit closed her fingers around the silver coin. “Thank you.”
She felt woozy for a moment, but the sensation went away almost immediately. Daro bowed, offering her his arm, and the two of them climbed up the cellar stairs and returned to the study.
Chapter Six
A few minutes after they left the magician’s house, Kit had another moment of dizziness. Almost before she was aware of it, it was gone again, and she wondered if it was a side effect of Daro’s spell. Whatever it was, she hoped it wouldn’t keep happening. She would need all her faculties for tomorrow, when the adventures would really begin.
“Are you all right?”
Kit glanced over at Luke, who was frowning down at her as they walked. Had he noticed something
earlier, when she’d felt dizzy?
“Of course I’m all right,” she snapped. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You’re holding my hand,” he said dryly.
Kit looked down. Dear Lord, he was right. She snatched her hand away immediately, her cheeks bright red.
“Sorry,” she muttered, thrusting her hands in her pockets. What in the world had she been thinking?
“You don’t have to pull away,” Luke said, and even without glancing at him Kit knew exactly how he looked: one corner of his mouth tilted up and his eyes glinting with amusement. “I must admit I was a little surprised when I felt your hand slip into mine, but if you’re interested in reevaluating the boundaries of our relationship…”
“Oh, shut up.”
He didn’t, of course, but while he went on needling her Kit was busy making a strange discovery.
She wanted to hold his hand again.
The left side of her body, the one nearest to him, felt warm. They had left the alleyway and were walking along a wider boulevard, rich with the sights and sounds of late night Paris, but Kit was conscious only of the man—no, vampire—walking beside her with easy, loose-limbed strides.
She stopped walking. Luke stopped too, looking down at her with his eyebrows raised. “Yes, sweetheart? What’s your pleasure?”
He was wearing black jeans and a burgundy shirt under his leather jacket. Kit’s lips were dry, and her whole body flushed with warmth. Luke’s chest and shoulders were so broad, so strong, so…masculine.
And his scent…like leather and musk…
Kit’s hands were twitching. She longed to touch him, to press her palms against all that hard muscle—to rip his shirt open and feel his naked skin—
She closed her eyes and fought the urge, fought with all her strength, and after a moment’s fierce struggle was able to open her eyes again.
“What are you doing?” she asked suspiciously.
“Doing? I’m not doing anything. What’s wrong with you?”
He was frowning now, his expression puzzled, and after searching his face for a moment she decided he was sincere.
“Nothing,” she said finally, forcing herself to take a step backwards. What the heck was wrong with her?
