Nerves of iron held her from panic. Every instinct told her to run, but she knew she’d garner a personal appointment with death if she attracted its attention. It would be on her before she made it fifty yards. Dying wet and cold in the moonlight, shredded by those teeth, wasn’t really on Gill’s agenda at that moment, making her very determined to win this round.
The creature had scented her, wanted her fear, was projecting it, but she’d be damned and dead before she’d give the thing that satisfaction. Sighting down the barrel, she pinpointed a dark eye and finished the squeeze on the trigger with a release of her breath. The noise was titanic in the small depression as the powerful handgun went off, the bullet going straight into the eye and brain of the Werelynx and nearly deafening her. Gillian erupted out of the falls and put two more rounds in its head, exploding it like a melon before it hit the ground.
Only then did she send out a mental broadcast for help, hoping someone would hear her. Then she noticed how cold she was, standing there, soaked through in the chill air. She needed to make sure the damn thing wouldn’t rejuvenate, though she doubted even a Lycanthrope could survive having its head exploded by .40-caliber silver bullets. She had a curious urge to throw one of those bullets on the ground near the body, a la the Lone Ranger, but thought better of it. Anything with her scent could be used to track her.
She watched the body warily. Having discovered so many “known facts” to be in error recently, she didn’t want to take the chance that it might rise again. The body smelled feral, wild, the scent of blood almost overpowering this close.
Someone heard her all right. Powerful arms encircled her and swept her up. Startled, but feeling that whoever held her wasn’t evil, she turned to gaze into the cerulean blue eyes of a gloriously attractive Vampire. Raven hair swirled around his face in the night wind, contrasting beautifully with the amazing eyes that still held her gaze. He had a single platinum earring in his left ear, she observed as her eyes traveled over his heartbreakingly beautiful face.
Gillian felt his power like an electric current flowing over her. It raised every hair on her body. Said Vampire held her easily in one arm, made a fist, opened it and a fireball shot from his fingers, hitting the Werelynx’s body and incinerating it. Gillian was speechless. Regular Vampires couldn’t do that. Did that make him irregular? Thinking too much again. Aleksei was going to kill her.
“I will return you to Aleksei, deliciae.” He chuckled with an accent that sounded…Greek? “Killing you is not on his mind right now, I assure you.”
Dammit, did they all have to sound like that? Not to mention that Studs “R” Us factor. The only other Vampire that she’d met that rivaled the beauty of the one now carrying her swiftly through the forest had been Osiris. He was almost godlike in his beauty. Greek. God. Uh-oh.
“Dionysus?” she asked tentatively, her teeth chattering from the cold.
The cerulean blue eyes rotated; he never broke stride. “Aleksei will introduce us, I am sure, but you are correct.”
It was a statement. He was reading her easily. Gillian barely felt the brush of his mind on hers. His power was another matter, it was crawling over her and making her skin tingle despite being chilled to the bone. His scent was different from Aleksei’s, sharper, crisper, an undertone of pine and ginger, but very masculine and warm.
“I can walk, you know,” she groused.
“I am faster.”
Touché, Dionysus. Okay, so she’d be carried to her sacrifice. Lines from Plutarch, “With your shield or on it,” came to her mind. He laughed, deep and ebullient at her thought, following the mental path back to its origins.
“A little thing like you should not be wandering around unattended. For a former soldier, you are incredibly undisciplined.” Gill flinched at the reprimand. Gods, she hated it when older Vampires read her so easily.
Any retort she had to that was silenced when he arched a brow at her as they entered the castle yard. Cezar walked up and greeted the Greek god. “It is good to see you, Dionysus. Far too long have you been away and silent.”
Said amiably, but the admonishment was clear. She had to love Cezar. He was absolutely loyal to Aleksei. Speaking of whom, he was striding toward them; she could feel his displeasure from where they were. Dionysus had swung her down, setting her on her feet next to him, looking down at her from a monumental height. Yup, he was tall too.
Aleksei had greeted the Greek lord, then taken Gillian inside for a little heart-to-heart talk and to dry off in front of the massive fireplace. He produced a blanket from somewhere, wrapped it around Gillian’s shivering shoulders and escorted her inside. There, the nobly born, iron-willed, genteel, chauvinistic, Old-World Vampire and the opinionated, liberated, feminist Marine were having issues with the subjective topic of Gillian being able to handle a preternatural threat alone, or Sexism in Survival Situations 101.
He wasn’t pleased with her little nocturnal adventure and said so. Gillian growled right back at him. Aleksei was growing firmer in his resolve to do something about her attitude and told her as much. He paced behind her angrily while she defrosted, his scent more comforting than Dionysus’s, making her feel safe despite his male posturing.
She pointed out that she hadn’t received a scratch and had used Human techniques for staying alive. The look he shot her would have melted metal and he bit back a sharp reprimand. Gillian had the decency to look contrite. Shivery and a little blue, but contrite.
Actually, Aleksei was impressed that she’d taken out a Werelynx and not yelled for help. Lycanthropes were nothing to toy with. Faster than a Human, almost as fast as a Vampire, they could disembowel a careless hunter in the blink of an eye. Realistically, he was horrified by what could have happened. If she had missed on her first shot, she would be dead now. There was very little fear in her when she was directly threatened, and he was awed by her stalwart nature. He hoped it wouldn’t get her killed.
Knowing that she was no worse for wear, Aleksei sank into his chair, rubbing his forehead with long, elegant fingers. He had beautiful, artistic hands, she noticed with a jolt as she watched his almost Human reaction to stress. Clean, trimmed nails, aristocratic hands, but carrying enough power to crush a coin in his fist, bend an I-bar like butter or lift a car like it was a bale of hay. He couldn’t possibly have a headache, but watching him demonstrate what had to be a simple leftover Human habit was intriguing.
“Gillian,” he said tiredly, “promise me that you will not go off without telling one of us again.” She started to protest but he waved her off. “No, I will have your promise. You may wander anywhere you like, in or out of my home, but you must tell someone.” Sitting up, he steepled his fingers and pinned her with his eyes. “I only ask for common courtesy, piccola.”
“Fine.” Gillian was being agreeable. That was a bad sign, he could tell already.
“I rejoice.” His tone was just as flat, eliciting an arched eyebrow from her. His gaze shifted down her small, somewhat damp form and his breath hissed between his teeth. The chill had hardened her nipples, making them clearly defined against her tight sweater. He wanted to drag her against him, strip those wet clothes off and warm her on the bearskin rug with his body.
“Go change, you are still cold,” he ordered her. He had to get her out of there before his desire overcame his good sense. The scent of her damp heat was radiating from the fire’s warmth.
“Fine.” She turned to leave, dropping the blanket behind her, giving Aleksei a view of her curvy bottom in the still damp, tight pants and the fact that there was no pantie line. He looked away quickly.
Heading for the door, she pulled up short at his voice. “I am very proud of you, Gillian. Not many Humans would have had the courage to do what you did. You are extraordinarily capable.”
She paused for a heartbeat. “Thank you, Aleksei. I appreciate you noticing.” His little admission warmed her heart. Maybe he was learning. Smart Vampire.
He watched her leave, the cold grip on his st
omach easing a little but battling it out with the heat pooled in his groin. The intensity of his reaction to her surprised him every time. She pushed him to the edge of his control time and again with her independent nature. Modern women. He wasn’t sure if he should be pleased or annoyed by Gillian’s ability to avoid being an entrée for a rogue Werelynx. Learning to trust her judgment was going to age him centuries. Not locking her up for her own safety was warring with his desire to protect her. Maybe she didn’t need him after all. Worse, maybe she didn’t want him. Nah. He couldn’t be that wrong.
CHAPTER
21
“S HE is a handful, Aleksei. I do not envy you.” Dionysus laughed openly, drawing a groan from Aleksei and a bemused snort from Cezar. The Greek god strode in, seating himself on the couch. Cezar remained near the door, but was fully part of the conference.
Inexplicably feeling the need to defend Gillian, Aleksei’s response was sharper than he intended. “She is remarkable, Dionysus. I know of no other Human that is as capable as she, nor as courageous.”
Cerulean eyes widened. “My apologies, Aleksei. I did not realize you cared for her as well. I will refrain from further commentary except to state that you have the patience of a Christian saint. I would not be so forgiving. Your piccola principessa is spirited and lovely. I wish you well.”
Listening to the exchange, Cezar was amused. Dionysus, if anything, was more opinionated than Aleksei, Tanis, Osiris or Anubis on the role of a young female, particularly piccola principessa Gillian. Aleksei was warring intellectually with every instinct he had.
Vampires mated for life, whether their love remained Human or was reborn, they were loyal and protective to their chosen. The non-Dracula variety, anyway. Predatory and inherently dangerous by nature, the males were overwhelmed with the enhanced emotions and increased physical sensations the change wrought in them. It took them years to assess and integrate their newfound passions. They loved wholly and completely when they loved, protecting their women and cherishing them. The younger males were more “modern” in their thinking but remained hopelessly snarly when it came to the safety of a female that was under their protection.
Their females, whether Human or Vampire, were quite capable of killing if necessary, in particular the reborn ones. There was no difference in being a predator between male or female. By virtue of size and sheer muscle mass alone, most of the males were unparalleled in strength, but were unfailingly gentle with those they cared for, whether family or friend. They were also completely unreasonable and resistant to changes in attitude and learned behavior. A Vampire tended to stubbornly retain the bias and beliefs of the age in which they had been created. Aleksei was no different.
The fact that Gillian had not raised Aleksei’s ire more than she had already was nothing short of a miracle. Cezar had spoken with Aleksei on more than one occasion, listening to his friend as he vented about Gillian’s feminist attitude and her former occupation as a soldier. Aleksei, like Tanis, thought in terms of race, age, gender and size. Gill was Human, she was young (to them), female and she was small. Those traits meant that she needed looking after and protecting.
Neither were above disciplining her if necessary, as Tanis had already proven and Aleksei had come close to enforcing. Cezar didn’t want to be anywhere around if Gillian truly pushed Aleksei over whatever line would force him to take action. She would be in for an immediate and abrupt discourse in Vampire protective genetic traits. Aleksei would view it as necessary to get her attention. Gillian would view it as bullying. If it came to that, Aleksei had better disarm her first if he didn’t want a ventilated ribcage, because she just might shoot him.
Gillian was of the unwavering opinion that while protection is sometimes necessary and comforting, she was capable and adaptive; not needing constant observation or coddling. Cooperating with this entire situation set her teeth on edge but she would do it. She’d given her word after all. Didn’t mean she had to like it.
Keeping busy with a few new local clients served to keep Gillian and Aleksei out of each other’s hair. Dante was ready for discharge, but he made her promise that she would check up on him occasionally. With his history of temper tantrums, Gillian arranged to have “maintenance visits” with him, once a month for the next four months, to make sure he didn’t regress. Not knowing how long she’d be in the country, or how long she’d remain in danger, she decided it was a safe time frame. If all hell stopped breaking loose, she could leave and still return monthly to check on Dante.
She continued to have the strange and erotic dreams whenever she slept. Often waking with the sheets tousled and damp, her body clenching in the aftermath of an incredible orgasm, but feeling empty. She attributed it to missing the regular diet of fabulous sex she’d been getting from Tanis.
The younger Rachlav had not yet been found and hope was growing slim that he was still alive. No one had stopped searching or looking for him. Alive or truly dead, Aleksei was determined to discover the whereabouts or fate of his brother. Gillian wanted to do more investigating during the day, but Aleksei absolutely forbade it. Dracula was definitely a presence and they had no way of knowing who might be a Daywalker servant of his. Gillian would not be doing any investigating or anything else alone. End of discussion.
The IPPA and the Corps backed him up on that in a strongly worded e-mail to Gillian and a phone call from Dr. Gerhardt, her friend and mentor at the organization. Bastards. All of them.
As time and the weeks crawled by, Gillian and Maeti amused themselves by staging sword bouts. Gill had fenced in college, kept it up as a hobby and was damn good with a rapier, epée, side sword and foil. Being a personal guard to the Vampire Goddess Isis, Maeti had some skills of her own. She showed Gillian the finer points of Roman short-sword combat.
Both of them wound up bruised, sweating and laughing amid the clatter of blades and lack of protective equipment. The Vampiress didn’t need a protective vest since there was little the Human could do to permanently damage her—Gill didn’t wear one, trusting Maeti’s skill not to vivisect her during a match, and to control herself should she manage to knick the Human accidentally. Maeti generally won. Vampires had unbelievable dexterity, rivaling Elves’, and a Human really had little chance against one of them in a fight. Still, it honed Gillian’s skill to fence with a Vampire, and she grew more adept as time passed from the nightly bouts.
Getting drawn into mindless routine is one of the fringe benefits of being under paranormal siege. Hating that she was becoming a person who was filling time, Gillian forced herself to change her habitual pattern. She tried drinking decaffeinated coffee and soda for a few days, thinking the stimulant had her nerves on edge. After a week of feeling like she had mono, she gave that up, appreciating the chemical benefits of imported French lattes in the evening and upon arising. Smoking was still part of her regime, though she noticed she was going through fewer cigarettes than she normally would. Probably due to not being able to just sit and relax in the proximity of pending doom.
When she woke late one afternoon, she had a message from Arkady Boganskaya. Dante wanted to speak to her; it was urgent, would she please come? Notifying him she would and leaving word with Pavel, the Werewolf of Cezar’s pack that she was seeing for his psychosomatic fur allergy and post-traumatic stress disorder, she went to greet her ghostly patient.
Dante had news for her. He had learned that a high-ranking Vampire named Tanis Rachlav had been kidnapped by Dracula’s forces, rather than killed outright. He saw recognition of the name in her eyes and jealousy flared in him, bright and hot. So, that was the man who had been instrumental in distracting her. Dante’s eyes narrowed imperceptibly as he felt her aura shift with concern for her lover.
The Ghost had discovered that, as he healed emotionally, he was able to leave his place of haunting for brief periods. He had followed her to both the cabin and castle where she’d been staying, visiting her in her dreams. Haunting her erotically, making love to her as she slept, Dante h
ad satisfied his own centuries of need on her body, pleasuring her as well. She had no idea he was the source of those dreams—she suspected they were of her lover. They were, he thought. Her Italian Ghost lover.
Memory of those visits stirred him, bringing his form into solid, hardened reality as he thought of sliding into creamy heat while she slept. Gillian wasn’t paying much attention. Dante formed and dissolved in front of her frequently. Unobtrusively, he lowered his hands, clasping them in front of his groin. The lace cuffs on his shirt draped down over the front of his tight pants, helping to hide the evidence of his arousal from her, not that she was noticing at the moment.
“Where did they take him, Dante? Can you find out for me? Please?” she added.
Letting none of his own emotion come through in his eyes, Dante readily agreed. “Of course, dolcezza. I will find out what I can and inform you soon.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it and I know his family will as well.” Gillian, for the first time, offered Dante her hand, rather than him simply taking it.
His eyes never left her face as he gently took her hand in both of his. They were firm and warm, but she was used to Dante’s contradictions and it no longer spooked her.
Completely serious for once, he told her, “Dolcezza…Gillian, I will do what I can to find your lover. I appreciate and respect what you have done for me. I have found freedom as I have never known, thanks to you. It is the least I can do for you, cara. Perhaps I may assist in his recovery as well.”
“Thank you, Dante. I will let you know.” Hurrying off, she couldn’t wait until Aleksei rose that night to tell him what she’d learned. It wouldn’t occur to her until later that Dante had used the term lover in reference to Tanis and she hadn’t contradicted him. The Ghost hadn’t missed that point either, and it rankled him deeply.
Dante watched her practically run from the hallway, leaving her fresh fragrance behind her. He was hard, aching, furious and jealous. Let her tell whom she would. Whatever he found out, he would relay, to an extent. She would take on the task herself to find her lover, of that he was certain. It would be dangerous, that was also a certainty. What Gillian did not know and could not appreciate was that Dante wanted her: dead or alive. It didn’t matter to a Ghost if his girlfriend had a pulse or not, or was a noncorporeal being. What mattered was that Dante was a special Ghost.
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