And To Hold: Vampire Assassin League #20 (2 page)

“You want me to follow you? To the green salon? Okay. I’m on your heels. I’m not straying. I’d get lost.”

Zach kept up a running chatter as he followed the man who’d met him at the foyer. The hall they traversed probably had a long and gloried history. Full of pageantry and knights, and all kinds of splendid sights. Right now, it was just a long corridor with strips of what might be tapestries, but could also be cobwebs, hanging down the walls. There wasn’t any lighting. The servant guy he followed held candelabra aloft, shedding a pool of light wherever he stood, casting eerie shadows everywhere else. Zach was going to call him Candle Man. He wasn’t letting him out of his sight. It was entirely too much like an episode of haunted house hunters. It was easy to imagine ghosts. It was also easier to place this as a midnight visit to a haunted mansion than a thriving house of ill repute, like he’d been told.

“So hey. Buddy. Tell me. Where are all the women?”

“Women?”

“Yeah. No offense, but I was told this place had...you know.
Women.
” Zach emphasized the last word.

Candle Man glanced over his shoulder, his expression easily read. The guy was amused, annoyed, and slightly irritated.
Good
. Zach’s act was working.

“Madame has requested your presence personally,” the fellow replied.

Zach jogged around to the front of Candle Man. “Really? Is that good? Sounds good. Madame, huh? This place really has one? Is she hot?”

He lifted the crucifix in one hand, twisting it so the candlelight hit it perfectly. A flash crossed his guide’s eyes. Nothing on the man flinched much, although he stopped, squinted, and huffed what sounded like a sigh of irritation.

“If you would follow me, sir?”

First test completed, Zach
. Vampires still didn’t exist. And this guy wasn’t in on the act. Zach grinned. “Oh. Yeah. Sorry. It’ll work better if I get behind you. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Your servant.” The guy bowed.

Wow. Candle Man had zero sense of humor. They turned a corner to enter a wide staircase. The entire stairwell had an echo. It followed them for the twenty steps they descended and then some. The stairs took a wide turn and continued down at least one more level, he noted. Candle Man didn’t take the next flight of steps. Instead, they entered another hall, just as forlorn and decrepit looking as the previous one. Only this length of hall had shadowy portals in the walls every so often. Occasionally, Zach caught a hint of movement, a rasp of noise. If this place had rats, he was taking that out on Leroy’s hide, too.

“You know...this place could use a good cleaning, my man. Some maintenance. Uh. Maybe...some paint?”

“So it would appear,” Candle Man replied.

They stopped at one of the shadowed spots. Zach bobbed his head and shuffled about as if impatient. “So. Is this it, then?”

“Yes.” The man reached with his free hand toward a doorknob.

“Okay. Um. Am I supposed to tip you?”

“You would be the first,” Candle Man replied.

“Right. So. Hey. I take it that’s a...no. I’m just to go in, then? And—holy crap.”

The man opened the door and motioned Zach inside. Every impression of dust and decay and desolation was immediately erased. The green salon looked like something from a historic movie epic. Easily as expensive. Twice as luxurious. All manner of lighting illuminated the space, mostly from gas lantern globes. They were spaced all about the room, highlighting fabric covered walls, all sorts of impressively massive, dark wooden furniture, and a lot of sparkle from crystal or silver or gold. Or all of the above.

“The green salon,” his guide remarked from behind him.

Zach whistled.

“Madame will be with you shortly.”

“Okay then. Hey. Wait just a second.”

He was fishing for his wallet as Candle Man left, softly closing the door behind him. Zach shrugged and walked toward an unlit fireplace that consumed most of the back wall. It had been fashioned of large stones, cut and fit into an arch. He could easily stick a chair in there if he wanted, and sit. Well. He’d learned a few things. Candle Man didn’t expect tips. He must be very well-paid. That probably meant bribery was out.

Leroy just got a bit harder to locate.

Zach detoured toward a side table, set with several etched crystal decanters along with matching glasses. He selected a decanter. Pulled the stopper. Sniffed.
Hmm
. Premium grade Cognac. In the middle of nowhere.
Go figure.
Zach turned a glass right-side up and poured a double-shot. He was on his way to tasting it when the door opened again.

This time it was a woman. Small. Red-haired, with a little white lace cap atop her head. Cute. Wearing what looked like a costume for a sexy French maid that showcased a figure deserving of it. The glass stalled at his mouth. Zach blinked.

“Sir?”

She bobbed him a little curtsey that threatened to overwhelm her little bodice. Zach chugged a gulp. Yep. They stocked really smooth cognac.

“Are you the Madame?” he asked.

She smiled. She was really cute.

“Oh. No, Sir. I’ve been sent to make certain you have everything you need.”

They’d tagged his tastes, already? And this is what they’d come up with?

“Uh...thanks. I think.” Zach grabbed for his cross and lifted it toward her. Her eyes went wide. Nothing else happened for several moments.

“That’s a very nice cross, Sir. Would you like to see mine?”

She pulled on an almost-invisible chain, and...
yep
. She had a crucifix at the end of it. A small one. It had been tucked right between her breasts.

Test two results, Zach
. The cutie in the French maid outfit wasn’t in on the act, either. He was starting to look not only young and cocky, but pretty damned idiotic as well. He cleared his throat.

“That’s very nice,” he told her. “And you keep it in a very nice place. And I really don’t need anything at the moment. Thank you, though. Truly. Uh...thanks.”

He watched her tuck her cross back into her cleavage, before she gave him another curtsey. And then she left. He didn’t say another word. She didn’t, either. He felt as foolish as he probably looked. He didn’t know why he bothered testing it. Zach put down his drink. Flexed his arms. Swung them back and forth, shifting the canister hooked on his belt. Nothing felt sore anymore.

Either way, he wasn’t getting any nearer to Leroy and one-point-five million Euros. Zach unfastened his necklace and pulled the cross off, placing it beside the cognac decanter. It looked pretty incongruous on the grog tray.

He needed a plan. Something besides waiting around in a posh room for some bordello Madame to visit. From the stairwell impression, he had a lot of floors and a lot of real estate to check. Mostly belowground. This whorehouse was well-situated. Apparently well-run. And very well-disguised.

The door opened again. This time, his visitor was an older gent. Early fifties, maybe. He wore a three piece suit. Black. The vest was in a brocade print, also black. Dapper. He had dark eyes, and silver-tipped dark hair. He looked like he belonged in a television series on European aristocracy.

“You here to ask if I need anything, too?” Zach asked.

“No.”

“Okay. Hey. Listen. I came to have a good time, you know. And I can pay. So, what say, we get this show moving? Or do all...uh...guests get the same treatment?”

“Only the special ones.”

Hmm. Special
. The guy’s tone didn’t match the word. “You got a name?”

“Malcolm.”

Zach was getting the same uneasy feeling he’d had in the carriage, before the fictitious Reginald had done a disappearing act. Even if he hadn’t spiked his hair, it would be rising. He put his hands to his hips with a nonchalant move, reached up beneath his jacket, and had the canister. A flip of his thumb pulled the pin, and he tossed it. The grenade rolled to a stop at Malcolm’s feet a fraction of time before it discharged. It held about six ounces of fluid. The Holy Water did an excellent job of dousing Malcolm and his suit as well as the space behind him. Other than that, not a damn thing happened.

Great. Test three was a complete bust.
Zach didn’t have to pretend to be young, immature, and unsophisticated. That’s exactly how he felt.

Malcolm fished a handkerchief from somewhere beneath his jacket and used it to mop at his face. He didn’t take his eyes off Zach. He didn’t look amused. He didn’t look angry, either. He looked scary. That expression raised goose bumps all along Zach’s extremities.

“This is an expensive suit,” Malcolm finally told him.

“Go change into another one, Malcolm.”

The voice answered from behind him. Zach spun. And gaped.

A woman stood before the fireplace, framed by the stone. She was chin-height on him. Mid-twenties, maybe. Dark-haired. And drop-dead, smack-him-in-the-middle-of-the-forehead gorgeous. She had luminous light green eyes that snagged, and then caught, and then mesmerized. They were moss green. Mysterious. Surrounded by lengthy dark lashes. Alarm bells went off in his skull. Rockets shot through his blood. The portion he hadn’t come here to offer service started experiencing all kinds of stimuli, and these slacks hadn’t enough give in them.

Shit.

Zach managed to blink. Move his gaze. There wasn’t any portion of her that wasn’t stunning. Large, rose-shaded lips were more than calling to him. They beckoned all kinds of kisses, and damn near made his knees wobble. Or, maybe that came from the view. She was wearing a floor-length gown, but it was molded to curves, clung to every nuance, and highlighted absolute perfection.

Make that holy shit, Zach.

He’d never seen such a package. He wondered how the hell this woman managed to enter any room without someone fainting. Like him. He’d never come across such world-class sex appeal. He’d have denied it existed. He wasn’t sure he could make words. His mouth was dry. His tongue seemed to swell. And his jaw hadn’t shut yet, either.

“You can leave now, Malcolm.”

She addressed the older gent, but she didn’t move her gaze from Zach.

“Reginald Leach failed to arrive this evening, Madame. Only his clothing did.”

“Later, Malcolm.”

“This fellow had a crucifix. This canister.”

“Leave us, Malcolm.”

“He may have more on him.”

“Oh. I can handle this,” she replied.

Zach actually pulled the wooden stake from the back of his belt and held it out toward the gent somewhere to the side of him. Without one qualm, or the slightest hesitation. The impulse was incomprehensible. It still happened. He fished out his knife next. He added the cuffs he’d brought for Leroy’s capture. And he didn’t even feel them taken from him.

The door closed behind Malcolm, sealing them in, adding an aura of silence to the pleasure of the view. Oh. This man was definitely her mate. Absolutely. Unquestionably. Indisputably. Shivers rushed over her skin just from being in his proximity. His eyes were an indecipherable shade, nearly black. His hair wasn’t much lighter. While a hint of whiskers atop his lip seemed tailor-made for sliding her tongue across. Being near him started a wellspring of want, a fountain of desire, and a whirlpool of yearning. Every sense was heightened beyond her usual.

And she was
breathing
.

Erect nipples brushed the lace confines of her brassiere with every inhalation and exhalation. She could hear each breath as it matched his, as well as the slight uptick in her newly awakened heart with their continued locked gaze. She hadn’t wanted to mesmerize him, but he’d given her little choice. Malcolm had standing orders to eliminate Hunters on sight. That was a fickle play of fate. It was also fortuitous. She wouldn’t have to explain much. He’d already be indoctrinated into the world of the undead. And mating. And what it meant.

My. My. My
.

Her mate was handsome...very much so. She’d been accurate on that with her first glimpse of him. He was dark-haired, broad-shouldered, and extremely fit...or the shirt clinging to his torso was lying. Ruxanna dropped her gaze, taking in the bulge of pectorals, the hint of abs, the lean waist...and the distinct swelling below that. She barely stopped a blush before jerking her eyes back to his. That was uncomfortable and unfamiliar. She couldn’t remember blushing, not even when she’d been alive.

Ruxanna approached slowly, finding each step added to an allure that surrounded him. It pulled at her, attracting, even as she tried to slow it. She’d waited centuries for this moment. Dreamt of it. Envisioned it. She wasn’t rushing anything! Anticipation snagged her heart more than once, causing a jagged beat. It was followed by another. And another.

He was a lot taller than she’d calculated. Her head reached his chin. Heels might have brought her nearer his height, but she rarely wore them. Ruxanna stepped closer, within touching distance, tilting her head up so their gazes stayed connected. Her canines reacted, quivering as they stirred. Trying to elongate. Pierce. Suckle.
No. Not yet.
She was trembling. Fever-gripped...and then overly chilled. Almost frightened. Finding her mate, and then being this near him, was exciting. Exhilarating. Worrisome. Electrifying.

Oh!

He had incredible eyes! Now that she was close, she could tell the color...and the depth. They were warm. Sable brown. Akin to looking into liquid dark chocolate. She took another step closer, craning her neck. Her new position gained the sensation of his every breath against her throat, her shoulders, atop her breasts. Sensitizing. Titillating. Causing her nipples to tighten farther. Swell more.
Oh, my
. She’d chosen this corset with care. Now she knew why.

She’d enthralled him almost too much, though. He wasn’t even blinking. He was simply standing there like a marionette, regarding her with an enigmatic expression. Unaffected. Aloof. Ruxanna barely kept from frowning.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Zachariah.”

He had a low range of voice, belying his image. He didn’t sound as young as she’d judged. Now that she was close, he didn’t look all that immature, either. More breath reached her with his answer, raising her skin’s awareness even more. Ruxanna sucked her lower lip into her mouth, giving her canines something to gnaw on as she worked at controlling their growth.

Not yet.

“Zachariah,” she repeated, and took another teeny step closer, as if pulled there. He might as well be exuding a drug, and she was a voracious addict.

“Yeah.”

Ruxanna took another step, near enough to feel the waves of something electric emanating from him. She made fists of her hands, digging nails into her flesh.
Not yet!
She didn’t dare touch him. She wasn’t at all certain what might happen. Or if she could contain it. She already knew she didn’t want to. But they had things to sort out. It wasn’t time. He was a Hunter. And she was very close to being snared.

“What brings you to my castle...Zachariah?”

Her voice trembled on his name. She narrowed her eyes, working to absorb what could actually be ecstasy that came just from saying it.

“A man,” he answered.

Her eyes went wide. Her breath stopped. Her heart was right behind it.

“A...man?”

No. It couldn’t be. He wasn’t. No. She couldn’t be this luckless.

“Yeah,” he answered.

“You came here looking for a man?”

“Yeah.”

Frustration and anger made her snarl, releasing her lip. They were the emotions behind how she whipped back from him as well, snapping the invisible weave that had bound them. She returned to her entrance portal – the fireplace. Stared unseeingly at it for long moments. Her breathing was quick. Furious. Her newly-awakened heart pounded with ruthless efficiency in her breast, threatening to overwhelm her with the power of it.

Oh!
There was no description for how this felt. To find her forever mate was the type who preferred men? She never judged anyone on any grounds, but this was a cruel trick of fate. She’d desired. And dreamed. And planned. Anything to end this cursed loneliness.

And for what? She’d received a mate who desired other men?

Well. Someone was going to pay for this! Ruxanna spun back around, narrowed her eyes, and approached him again. Her mate hadn’t moved. He was still standing exactly as she’d left him, watching her. Making her heart thump with painful beats. And damn that muscle for how it wavered and vacillated as she looked up at him!

“You had Hunter weapons, Zachariah.”

“Yeah,” he replied.

“You are a Hunter.”

“Yeah.”

“I do not understand the handcuffs, however.”

He grunted. It was her fault. When a subject was mesmerized, it was best to keep the questioning simple.

“You had handcuffs,” she repeated.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Why?” he repeated. His forehead wrinkled. He blinked and then shook his head slightly, almost like he was coming out from beneath her thrall. But that wasn’t possible. And it was precipitant. She wasn’t ready. She was too emotional. Too angered. Too ready and willing to inflict the same emotion she felt.

“Yes. Why do you carry handcuffs?”

“Control.”

“Oh. You like bondage, do you?”

“Bondage?”

“Yes. Bondage. That’s what handcuffs are used for. And leg shackles. They are used for domination.”

He was definitely gaining awareness. He looked down at her for a long moment. The world stopped revolving and just waited. With bated breath. Just as she was. And then he grinned. Ruxanna’s heart dove. She’d never dealt with that, either. Her mate wasn’t just very handsome. That grin would easily be her undoing.

“You’ll have to pardon my inattention, uh...miss, but...what did you just ask me?”

“Follow me, Zachariah,” she answered.

“You know my name?”

His air of confusion was edged by a hint of wariness, and a good dose of threat. His voice carried both.

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I know all kinds of things about you, Zachariah.”

“Really? Okay. I’m game. How?”

“Well. The way I see it, you have two choices. You can stay in here and wonder. Or...you can come with me and find out.”

Ruxanna turned and started walking toward the door. She didn’t look to see if he followed. She was almost afraid to. Not because he might not be following. It was due more to what she might do if that was the case.