Charleston Past Midnight (6 page)

I scan wildly for the most direct path back to that elevator, knowing that it will take a miracle to get past these guys. I’ve already witnessed their inhuman speed. A Jamaican Sprinter wouldn’t stand a chance dodging them.

“No, Kiana, there’s about to be trouble—”

Before I can finish my sentence, a long arm falls across my shoulders and begins moving me swiftly through the crowd. As we wind through the sea of bodies, I look up into Severin’s eyes, which are narrowed and laser-focused.

I hear Kiana’s voice behind me purr loudly, “It’s a good thing you’re super hot. Otherwise we’d have a big issue with each other.”

Who is she talking to?

I try to look back to see that she’s all right and also to determine if the scary dudes are giving chase, but Severin is pulling me so fast that I’m nearly jogging in my stilettos to keep up the pace. Finally we stop at a flight of emergency stairs in the back that I never knew existed. I watch him press on the metal bar of the door and it flies open into a narrow, brightly lit stairwell.

As we start the descent, an impossibly deep male voice calls out from behind us, “Take the girls down with you. I’ll stall them here and trace down to the alley beside the hotel. They wouldn’t be dumb enough to bust the door in with the bouncers watching. Pick me up down there.”

“Done.” Severin answers the huge man with the shaved head.

He’s incredibly intimidating, but I’ve yet to cross paths with one of them who
isn’t
. In comparison to Severin’s deadly assassin appearance, this one is more like a grizzly bear on a short chain, a
very
unhappy one.

I decide to hold off on the questions on the tip of my tongue until we make it to the safety of his SUV. I shudder to think what would have went down had they not shown up to save us. The malice in that vampire’s gaze made my blood turn to icy slush in my veins.

Kiana is smart. She has a built-in radar for trouble and knows to roll with it and not balk when things are going down. She’s quiet as we stop at the steel door that leads out into the lobby.

Still not looking at me, Severin instructs us, “Wait here a moment.”

Before I can answer, he steps out into the posh lobby and scans the premises. Then he steps back and grabs each of us by the hand and pulls us out alongside him. I hear him say just under his breath, “They can’t trace down here without the risk of being seen.”

We hustle across the marble black and white checkerboard floor. The uniformed doorman barely has a chance to wish us a nice evening before we are outside, and Severin is demanding the keys for his vehicle from the clearly intimidated valet. He hands the teenager a fistful of cash and swiftly ushers us into the darkness of the backseat. I watch through the tinted windows as he rounds the back of the gleaming silver SUV before jumping in.

The engine roars to life. He whips out into the heavy traffic that’s lining East Bay Street. We haven’t gone five car lengths before he makes a sharp right turn down a narrow alley that runs alongside the hotel. I lean forward, looking for his friend. I see him step out from the shadows of a brick wall. The Mercedes’ headlights illuminate the man, making him appear impossibly
more
frightening.

“How did he beat us down here?” Kiana’s question goes unanswered and she seems like she couldn’t care less, obviously now distracted and in visual wonderland, “Mmmm … mmmm.” The sexy, appreciative purr comes from deep in her throat as he crosses to open the passenger door. As he hauls his big frame into the SUV I stare at the thick, swirling tattoos that are prominent around the collarless, skintight Under Armour shirt he’s wearing. I look over at my normally cool, unaffected roommate and watch a blatant mask of lust transform her sexy features. He has
exactly
what she wants, pure and simple. I know that aching feeling all too well.

Oh God, what have I gotten us into?

* * *

We take off into the night and it doesn’t take long before I figure out where we’re headed. The sleek SUV pulls up in front of our house, and I see the exact same look of disapproval cross his buddy’s face as he looks over to Severin and says in a low, gravelly tone, “Bad part of town. They shouldn’t be living way up here.”

With the subtle interior lights playing off his perfect features, I observe how Severin’s lips turn downward, but he says nothing in response to his comment. He opens his door and seconds later is ushering us quickly out of the back, all the while scanning the seedy street.

“Guess the party is
way
over,” Kiana grumbles as they escort us up the narrow, rickety set of stairs to the entrance off of the porch. Kiana uses her key to unlock the deadbolt. The door opens and we step inside. I turn, expecting them to follow us in. I’m surprised that they’re still standing stone-still out on our slanted porch.

His smooth voice cuts through the silence, and it’s clear he’s annoyed. “I need to speak with you. We can’t come in unless you invite us.”

My eyes flick between both of theirs, waiting for the punch line. I mean, he
can’t
be serious, can he?

Several seconds pass and the stern set of their features remains the same, completely unwavering
. Oh man.

Kiana laughs, oblivious to what they really are. “You guys are messing with us, right?”

I step to the side and swiftly offer, “Please come inside.”

They have to duck under the small doorframe as they enter. Kiana and I both back up and stare in wonder at the massive males who are now making our already teeny apartment appear positively miniscule.

Kiana picks up her iPod and the sounds of Tinie Tempah’s “Written in the Stars” start to flow through the coffee-colored living room. The South Londoner’s sexy rap tune is the perfect distraction from the nearly volcanic tension. I can tell that he wants to talk in private so without saying a word I head down the narrow hallway toward my room.

He follows behind me and closes the door as he steps inside. I turn on a small lamp next to my bed. He takes a quick assessment of my simplistic white and teal Pier One inspired bedroom before leveling me with his magnetic eyes.

“Tell me how you know the vampire from Mixture.”

No messing around there.

“I don’t.” I answer his question as evenly as possible. I sense that he’s been on edge since we left the club and I don’t want to add gasoline to the already smoldering fire that is his dark mood tonight.

“You’ve never crossed paths with him before tonight?”

“Never.”

He plants his hands on his hips and stares down at the weathered floor before looking back up at me through impossibly long, jet-black lashes.

In a low, measured, very scary voice he says, “Calla, there is something you’re not telling me and your welfare is at stake. Five-hundred-year-old vampires
never
show interest in a human like he did with you. I was on the street level, leaving the SUV with the valet when I sensed your mounting fear. I traced up to the stairwell and risked being spotted doing so. Now I’m going to ask you one last time.
How
do you know each other?”

“Fine,” I snap, more than a tad uncomfortable to tell him what I’ve never told anyone aside from my brother. “Sometimes I have these … visions.” His eyes flare slightly but he remains silent as I continue. “That’s what I call them. Anyhow, when I saw him, he looked directly at me and then I had a vision of him ….” I trail off, frightened to recount the horrific memory aloud.

“Continue.”

He’s tense but giving nothing away as I go on, “I saw him holding me high in the air … by the throat.” I swallow hard as the rest spills from my lips. “Once I had the vision he stared at me, looking surprised, like he saw it too, but that’s not possible … is it?”

“With him it is. What happens after you have these visions, Calla?”

Trying to calm the shaking in my legs that is quickly working its way up my body, I whisper to him, “It happens in real life.”

His dark brows snap together. He looks like he’s trying to solve an impossible algorithm when he asks me slowly, “Always?”

“Yes, always.” I can only manage a strangled whisper.

I can tell that he is trying hard to wipe any trace of emotion from his features, but I can see from his silence and tense demeanor that he’s despondent about what I just told him, and he’s hiding something from me. His normal intensity is dialed down and smoothly controlled.
Why?

Slowly he asks, “How did you know they were vampires, Calla? For humans, we blend right in. In fact, humans are enthralled by us, finding us terribly attractive. We are only feared when we choose to be, when we take action. How did you see him as he is?”

I shake my head slowly and tell him the truth. “I-I’m not sure. At first I thought they were dealers or just scary guys dressed in designer clothing. But right before the vision began, I stared into his eyes and just …
knew
.”

He crosses the few feet over to me and lightly takes hold of my shoulders. His large hands feel so nice against my bare skin. I tilt my chin up to meet his eyes as he says solemnly, “I need to look into this tonight. In the meanwhile, I need you to promise me two things, Calla.”

“And they would be?”

“I need you to only go out when it’s daylight, and I need you to not let anyone, with the exception of your roommate, into this apartment. I’m not flexible on this. You’re in danger. Am I clear?”

“Tell me what he wants.”

His head shakes slowly back and forth. “I don’t know yet, but I’m going to find out. Whatever it is, it’s not good.”

“Who is he?’

“His name is Valdon, and we have been enemies for a very long time, Calla. That’s all you need to know tonight. Say that you’ll do as I instructed.”

Like I have a choice? That creepy-ass vampire scared the shit out of me!

“Yes, I’ll follow your advice.”

“If you want to stay alive, you should, Calla.” His stare is unwavering, expressing exactly how serious he is about the topic at hand.

What the hell?

He releases my shoulders and turns to reopen the door. Just before he does, he turns back to me, “One last thing, Calla. Don’t
ever
wear that dress again unless we’re together.”

My jaw drops, and before I can even begin to question his ridiculously possessive statement, he strides back out the way we came. I glance down at my slinky, midnight-blue backless halter dress and huff out a sigh. I follow behind him and once we reach the top of the hallway I stare in disbelief because the lights are dimmed and Kiana is straddling the sexy guy who’s seated in the center of our sofa with his legs spread wide. They’re making out with such fierce hunger that an earthquake could rock the building and they’d take
zero
notice.

Severin clears his throat several times before Mr. Serious peers around a still-writhing Kiana.

“Let’s move, Case.”

His eyes tighten in annoyance, but without hesitation he
lifts
Kiana up and sets her aside as he stands up to leave.

“Later ….” Kiana whispers seductively to him. He simply lifts his chin to acknowledge that he heard her. Severin follows him out the door without so much as a backward glance or a goodbye.

Arrogant!

Before I can dwell on what’s gone down tonight, Kiana falls onto her back against the cushions and says in a dramatic voice, kicking her legs high in the air, “Now that was the
ultimate
kiss! Damn Calla, he’s got some brother in him! I knew it. Shit girl, he is so fine! God, I need a cold shower, ’cause in five minutes flat he set my body on fire … for real. I’ve
got
to see him again. Now that was
definitely
worth ending tonight early.”

She pushes up onto her elbows and brushes a long strand of hair away from her flushed face. “Hey, how did you meet those guys anyhow?”

I shake my head slowly, “Trust me Kiana, you
really
don’t want to know.”

Chapter Seven

Just Before Sunrise. April 4, 1756

Beauvais Plantation

T
he pre-dawn mist is a dense mass hovering low against the damp grass. It surrounds us, making anything from our knees down difficult to make out. Several men hold lanterns around us so we can see to fight. The yellow lights cast an eerie glow, but I hardly notice—I’m so intently focused on my mission. I have been since I demanded the challenge from him just over nine hours ago.

My father wanted to discuss strategy with me. I flatly refused. As a gentleman, I’ve been skilled with the use of a rapier since I was a boy of around seven years of age. I curl and uncurl my fingers around the hilt of my weapon, which is covered with a sweeping steel guard. My eyes never leave my opponent’s in the thick moments before our duel is set to begin.

I’ve mentally reviewed my plan several times, absolutely certain of the strikes I will take against the man. And now, a peaceful calm washes over me as I await the word from the impartial announcer that we are to begin. Many of the duels that occur in the South are fought until one man is too wounded to be able to continue. As the one who called the offense against my enemy, I vehemently insisted that this duel be fought
à loutrance,
or to the death, to be absolutely certain that only one of us walks away this morning.

The person chosen to start the duel is unknown to either of us. I surmise that he was brought here especially for the grim task of giving us leave to attack. I glance down at my white sleeves one last time to ascertain that they are cuffed properly so as not to cause obstruction. I flick my right wrist and my sleek Spanish rapier cuts through the dense air with the crisp sound of a whip. I plant my booted feet into position and wait.

The stranger’s voice is strong but laced with nervous energy as he calls out, “Gentleman, are you both ready to engage?”

After we both respond, the man’s voice again rings out clearly across the vast, shadowed lawn, “Very well. Begin the duel!”