by Zoe Forward
“You’re a thrill-seeker who likes to walk the edge of danger?”
“No. I have a different sense of right and wrong than others of my species.” Her phone buzzed against her side. A quick check and she mumbled, “I’ll take you to the rendezvous point at the end of the day tomorrow.”
“The longer I delay—”
“You will delay,” she said. “I insist. This isn’t only about your safety, but also mine and the others who live here. I have guests arriving in an hour. That’s not enough time to get you somewhere else.”
“I can walk out the front door and be gone during or after your party.”
“You can’t rescue the baby that way.”
His brows fell low as he scowled. A normal vamp would’ve been terrified, but she’d faced down a hell of a lot more than a grumpy werewolf with a bad reputation.
She slid the sandwich his way. “You don’t know where to look. If she’s where I think she is, then you can’t get inside. I can’t, either, but I may know someone who can help me get access. It’ll be risky.”
“I can get into anywhere.” He eyed the sandwich.
A nudge pushed the plate toward him. “It’s the best I can do with the ingredients in the refrigerator.”
He bit into the sandwich. “Not bad. Where do you think she’s been taken?”
“There’s a secret research facility. Highly fortified.”
“Give me an address, and I’ll deal with it.”
She glanced at the ceiling. “Dear Lord, you’re stubborn. I have a higher probability of getting into the facility and getting her out alive. You go in guns blazing, and she’ll be one of the first they’ll execute to cover their asses. You can disagree with my assessment. I can’t force you to think the right way.”
He finished the sandwich, poured himself another snifter of scotch, and drank it in one swallow. In a flash, he rounded the counter, moving close enough to break her bubble of personal space. All the air seemed to get sucked out of the room, and she could sense his body as if he touched her.
“I’ll find her,” she said. With a pounding heart, she backed up and stumbled. He caught her arm and quickly released when she regained her footing, but he maintained a hand on her lower back, soft and reassuring.
The touch zinged right between her legs. What was wrong with her? She had enough problems without getting turned on by a werewolf, the forbidden species. And this one everyone labeled insane. Although to her he seemed to have both feet firmly planted in rational territory.
“Why are you helping my kind? What’s in it for you?”
“Maybe I like you guys. Maybe I think slaughtering werewolves isn’t right.”
“This isn’t about politics or you as a renegade do-gooder. This is personal, isn’t it?” The way he cocked his head and regarded her made her wonder if he could read her thoughts. Maybe he could. She hoped not because he’d be getting a doozy fantasy of him pinning her against the wall, losing control, and claiming her mouth with his.
“My parents’ wolf slaves showed me more kindness than my parents. I helped them escape during the Emancipation War. You could say it kick-started my career in rescues.” That came out in a rush, since she could barely move air through her lungs. Those blue eyes, abs for days, and a smell like heaven… She picked up his pounding heart. Unable to resist, she rested her hand over his chest to feel it beat against her palm. “There are more of us out there that care to save lives than you might think. Dissidents, you might say. We’re not trying to swing the war one way or another. We want to keep the persecuted alive until the two species can get their heads out of their asses and call a truce.”
He hadn’t removed his hand from her back. The touch sent fire through her veins.
Remember the enthrallment aura.
“Dissidents?” His eyelashes fluttered downward as his gaze deviated from her eyes to her lips. “What the hell have you done to me, Kiera?”
His body crowded her against the dishwasher. His smell, his feel, and the Jell-O sensation in her legs coalesced. She’d never been with anyone as feral as she suspected he’d be when the beast within him peeked through. Oh my, she wanted to meet the beast.
He fisted her hair, tilted back her head.
Oh, hell, this dominance struck a chord in her she hadn’t known needed strumming. A moan slipped out as she pressed herself against him, his head descending. Her mind shut down everything other than sensation.
But his lips didn’t connect. Her eyelids snapped open.
He levered back, his breath coming in pants and heaves. His pupils flared.
She gasped, remembering who he was. What she was. They sat on opposite sides of an unwinnable conflict. They could not do this, combustible chemistry aside.
“My hair.”
His hand, still grasping her wet ponytail, released. A myriad of expressions crossed his face as he backed away from her.
He’s disgusted.
That hurt deep in her chest in a place vulnerable to a need for a particular guy’s admiration. She thought her snake of a forced mate had obliterated that weakness.
She stepped around him and straightened her terrycloth robe. “Whew. You don’t need to seduce your way to freedom. I promised you’d get out of here alive, if you play by the rules.”
Would he take the excuse as a way to explain whatever the hell just happened? Maybe he was insane, and a part of his insanity was seducing his enemy. Seduce first. Kill after.
She noticed his hands shook.
In a hoarse voice, he said, “Kiera…”
A female cleared her throat from the doorway. “Lady Rossard, the first cars are less than twenty minutes away.”
They both whirled to face the entrance. Caught. In flagrante delicto. How much had Megan seen?
“Thank you, Megan. How’s your father faring in the kitchen?” She hoped her face didn’t look as hot as it felt.
“Fine.” Megan’s lips thinned. The barely twenty-two-year-old was judging her. The kid had no right. Kiera was hundreds of years older and had nothing to be ashamed of other than a little almost kiss with Michael Durand.
Michael fucking Durand.
All right, maybe the kid had a small platform upon which to stand and be judgey. She listened to Megan’s heels click away down the hall.
Kiera cleared the roughness from her throat. “Megan can show you the monitoring room where you can watch us on camera until the meeting begins. It’s all I can offer. You’ll stay downstairs and let me do what I do.”
“What just happened?” His voice, so raw and confused. He wasn’t repelled by the almost-kiss?
She felt out of control, unsure what her body was going to demand she do next, what she might say. She felt like she was tumbling down a hill with no end in sight, leaving a constricting feeling in her chest, making it harder and harder to breathe.
On the edge of losing it, she muttered, “Nothing. Has to be nothing. Right?”
Hating every second that ticked by without him replying, breath caught in her throat, she tried to concentrate on leaving and on getting him in motion to go downstairs, but she couldn’t move. Her heart thrashed her rib cage to the point of pain. She needed him to commit to an agreement to forget about whatever happened minutes ago so she could safely move him into the off-limits and not-interested category. Or…no, there couldn’t be any sort of “or” scenario.
He took a deep breath and stepped toward her.
Holy.
Shit.
Her body went haywire. Her limbs felt numb when his fingers brushed against her cheek, the touch gentle.
He whispered hoarsely, “I don’t know what the hell you’ve done to me, but…I hate doing the right thing sometimes.”
He pivoted and left.
Chapter Five
“Are they all vamps?” Michael asked as he star
ed at Kiera’s chest on the monitor. Her black dress couldn’t be categorized as risqué with its long sleeves and form-fitting bodice, but it dipped low above her cleavage to a point that her breasts threatened a peep show. He didn’t think something that provocative was necessary for a meeting of the Nightshade League. But fuck, it was sexy.
He scowled at his “guards,” Adric and Megan, when neither answered his question.
Megan swallowed hard and stole a quick look his way before finally responding. “All of them are vampires.”
He hadn’t recognized most of the vamps who’d arrived, so far seven males and one female. None of the arrivals fit the profile of whom he thought would be Nightshade, but he wasn’t sure he’d recognize the leader.
Kiera charmed all of them with a beaming smile, cheek kisses, and sometimes a hug. Even though sound came through muffled on the monitoring system, he could faintly hear her laugh at a remark. A jolt shot through his veins. She repeated the small, happy noise, bringing on a surge of lust that bloomed hard and fast in his chest.
You are not interested in a vampire. You just…can’t.
This obsession with her was wrong on so many levels.
Maybe the tranquilizer from last night turned his kind into half-baked idiots for a while.
An Irish Wolfhound sat in the corner of the foyer, tall and quiet. “Kiera has a dog?”
Megan and Adric met each other’s gazes with funny looks Michael couldn’t interpret. She said, “He’s her protector.”
“A wolfhound against vampires? Seems foolish.”
“The dog’s a brutal, dictatorial bastard at times,” Adric muttered. “Best to stay on his good side.”
A vampire strode into the foyer and threw off his black coat, which landed on a nearby side table. His skin was pale and eyes silver, but his hair… No other had long, ultra-light blond hair with dark brown streaks. Some nicknamed him Drac Lothario, a cliché label he’d earned by traipsing through the bedrooms of humans and the vampire upper elite for over a century. Sir Andrew Dewhurst had been knighted by Queen Victoria amidst rumors of a liaison with her—total bullshit, in his opinion. Andrew examined Kiera appreciatively and grinned.
“He’s Nightshade, isn’t he?” As Viktor’s nephew, Andrew was a diehard elitist, one Michael never would’ve pegged to be Nightshade. Excellent identity cover.
Adric busied himself on his laptop.
Megan glanced his way, shifty for a moment before her face blanked over.
Michael squinted at the screen. “Guess I’m not supposed to know that. Fine. It’s a secret.”
Andrew offered his arm to Kiera. She tucked her hair behind an ear and granted him a soft smile as she accepted his offer.
A throbbing knot of pure, bloodthirsty rage lodged mid-chest over the notion the two were involved. They disappeared into a closed-door room. “Can we see them in there?”
He needed to see more of Kiera with Andrew. To gauge how involved they were.
“No,” said Megan. “No cameras in there. She does it on purpose. Doesn’t want anyone to record what’s said between them. The meeting usually goes on for an hour or two.”
…
Hours later and long after Kiera’s meeting ended, his “guards” abandoned him for bed, trusting he’d stay downstairs. Either that or they bought his act of sleeping.
Sleep? He’d done enough of that already in this house.
He wandered around the ground floor. Nothing much of interest.
“Join me for a cup of tea?” Kiera asked behind him.
He whipped around. How had he missed her approach? He was definitely losing his edge.
“I’ve got stuff that’s supposed to help you sleep,” she offered.
“You going to drug me to keep me in line?”
“You’re throwing contempt my way, but…” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and cocked her head. “You seem… Do you have trouble sleeping?”
Not discussing weaknesses with her, sleep in particular.
“Come on. Follow me. I won’t bite.” She chuckled at her little joke and waved him to follow. They entered a quaint parlor with well-worn leather furniture.
She said, “I’m never tired and rarely sleep. Doesn’t seem to slow me down, but I figure it’d be healthier if I slept once in a while. So I try this tea.” She poured each of them tea and slid a porcelain cup his way across the end table between them. “You ever heard of insomnia in someone like me?”
He shook his head. No vamp could resist day sleep.
“Should’ve asked if you wanted sugar or milk.” She held up a sugar bowl.
“Plain works.” He took a sip. The minty taste wasn’t foul but not one destined to be a favorite. He forced a fast swallow. “Is it laced with something?”
“You look hopeful.” Her lips shifted upward. “It’s herbal. Doesn’t do shit for me. Yet I drink the disgusting stuff all the time, ever hopeful it’ll work.”
He laughed out loud. “You’re not at all what I expected for a vamp.”
“At least I’ve graduated from ‘leech bitch.’ Kind of like that endearment, though.”
They shared a smile.
“I assume Andrew Dewherst is the leader of Nightshade’s League.” The tea left a dry aftertaste, and even though he dreaded it, he drank more.
“Why? Because he seemed like the most senior guy at the meeting?”
“I think he’s younger than you.” He relaxed into the soft leather and studied her. She’d removed all makeup from earlier and looked twenty-something rather than however many hundreds of years old she was. The answer to his Nightshade’s leader identity question lay in the confidence and humor in her eyes.
Her.
Made sense.
“Andrew, bless his soul, can’t formulate a plan that doesn’t involve unnecessary levels of drama. He drives Finn bonkers. There was one time when he suggested five costume changes in less than an hour. Absolute insanity. In our line of work, there are enough unexpected theatrics.”
“So that’s a no, he’s not in charge.” Now he wanted to mess with her because he liked this. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a lighthearted conversation with a woman. Kiera seemed to have no expectations. “It’s Finn, then, right?”
She shook her head. A little smirk passed over her lips.
She enjoyed this, too.
He said, “Adric is bold but doesn’t have the…hell, I can’t see the boy shooting anyone.”
She shook her head, laughing. “No, Michael, definitely not Adric.”
A thrill of excitement bolted up his spine from the sound of his name softly rolling out of her mouth. It was sultry, but not in an obvious way, more a natural tone that she must use when happy.
Michael tapped his lip and scrunched up his face.
The corners of her mouth lifted. “You’re screwing with me.”
Trying not to look so pleased by her happiness, he said, “Perhaps a bit.”
…
She lifted her tea and took a sip before carefully setting it back down, her eyes never leaving his. “Yes, this leech bitch is a badass.”
He clapped his hands and granted her a stunning grin. “And humility is your middle name.”
Her body heated up at his joy. She bet very little shocked him or made him laugh these days. “I’ve personally rescued one hundred twenty-two wolves in the past six months, counting you. The group as a whole has saved three times as many. Not one vampire or wolf died during the rescues. I think I earned every ounce of conceit over those numbers.”
Everything about his relaxation and temporary ease brought lightness to her heart. For the moment, he didn’t seem as if he carried the weight of centuries and all his people.
She was hopeless. She prayed her attraction for him wasn’t showing, because she was sure girls fell all over him
all the time. Hell, she had—almost—a few hours ago.
“You got any tips for me as leader of an underground resistance?” she asked.
“It’s not like you’re Tal Shiar or Zhat Vash. The Nightshade League is a handful of wildcards at best, which isn’t my area of expertise. I only work with professional soldiers.”
She leaned forward and playfully squeezed his arm, almost dizzy with thrill. “You watched Picard?”
His cheeks flushed. “Production value was high, but the story was slow. It would’ve made a decent two-hour movie instead of one long episode after another.”
Mouth shut. If drool comes out, you’ll never live it down. “There was a lot of quiet time in each episode, true. The show got a little weird on the synthetics planet, but it was nice to see some of the old characters. I don’t think I’ve met another person like us who even knows what Star Trek is.”
“I don’t sleep much. I’ve already read about everything I’m interested in reading. So I stream a lot of TV.” He shrugged.
They smiled together again in mutual understanding about the need to occupy the time while everyone else slept.
“I wish my people were as skilled as the Zhat Vash. In all seriousness, any tips?” She found herself leaning toward him again.
“The masks are awful.”
She held up her hand and pumped her fist. “Thank you. Totally agree. Finn thinks they’re brilliant. He says they’re scary, which fits our parts. I think they’re just creepy.”
“They’re not exactly a friendly way to convince the wolves to trust you.” He put down the tea and tensed. The weight that had disappeared moments earlier returned, surrounding him in air thick with stress. “Thanks for this…for tea. I’ll go back downstairs. Maybe the herbal crap will do something.”
She stood. “Sure. Tomorrow, at dusk, you’re out of here. I’m sorry I couldn’t arrange for it to be sooner.”
The silence between them on the walk to the elevator remained awkward. She couldn’t come up with even one silly thing to bring back the ease of their earlier conversation.
In front of the elevator, he turned abruptly. She was so absorbed in finding a conversation topic, she smacked into his chest. He caught her.
