Kiss of Temptation: The Kavanaugh Foundation, Book 3 (5 page)

“Ah, Daniela, you’re more beautiful than the angels when you come.” A few thrusts later, all the restraint melted from his face as he reached his own climax. His arm buckled under him and the weight of his body soothed the lingering spasms of her orgasm.

Both of them struggled for air while their hearts pounded in sync, separated only by the flesh and bone of their chests. She curled his hair around her fingers and held him close until he grew still in her arms. Luc began leaving a trail of nibbles up the side of her neck, continuing to tease her and make her crave the taste of his mouth on hers again. Instead, she settled for the saltiness that hung on her lips after she kissed the beads of sweat away from his forehead.

“Don’t,” he grunted. He closed his eyes and turned his head to the side.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t be so gentle with me. I don’t deserve your affection.” He began to pull away, but she tightened her legs around his waist and kept him in her arms.

She lifted his chin and searched his face. What had happened in his past that made him say that? Her gaze traveled down to the simple wooden cross that dangled from his neck. She brushed her fingers against it, making it sway above her breasts. “Someday you’ll have to tell me your story, Padre Luc.”

The anger swirling inside the dark pupils when he opened his eyes made her regret calling him by that name. He pried her legs open and rolled off the narrow bed. Every movement was forced and purposeful, as if he was on the verge of striking her and trying to direct his rage into something else. “I told you not to call me that.”

“I’m sorry, Luc.”

He opened his mouth to say something else, but a brisk knock interrupted him. “
Bigllieti
,” a man said from the other side.

The only perceptible movements were the flare of his nostrils and the ripple of a muscle along his jaw. Daniela knew that look. It was the, “we’re not finished with this conversation”, look, and a little trickle of fear ran down her spine. Whatever tongue-lashing he had in store for her, she hoped it would simmer down before he unleashed it.

Luc flung the remnants of her shirt at her before pulling his pants on. She covered her nakedness while he exchanged a few words with the conductor and presented their tickets. Shame burned her cheeks. What had been a mind-blowing orgasm followed by a few moments of tenderness now made her feel cheap and unwanted. That should teach her to let lust get the better of her. Maybe she’d misjudged him.

When he closed the door, his features had softened. “Get dressed and meet me in the dining car. You need something to eat.” He tugged his shirt over his head and left her alone and more confused than ever.

And I thought only women suffered from PMS.

Chapter Four

Luc pressed his forehead against the cool pane of the window just outside the berth, hoping to ease the ache of his head. Daniela was becoming far more complicated than he could have possibly imagined. The steady thump in his chest testified to that. What the hell was going on?

I should not have given in to temptation.

But instead of being repentant, he still craved her. His lips had sat poised on her neck, his fangs ready to pierce the succulent vein that throbbed under his tongue. Thank God he’d caught himself in time. A monster like him didn’t deserve her tenderness. He deserved her hatred, and based on the look of shock on her face when he left the berth, he was well on his way to earning it.

But one question still plagued his mind. Why was his heart beating? Was it a warning of some sort? Or something far more ominous?

As he made his way to the dining car, he dug out a rumpled business card from the back of his wallet.
The Kavanaugh Foundation for the Arts.
He snorted. Who did Morwen think she was fooling with this false front to her organization of vampire hunters and witches? He flipped it over and studied the faded numbers on the back. He’d received it decades ago. Was the number still active?

He slowly dialed it, wondering if he was asking for more trouble with each button he pressed. Three rings later, her musical voice answered. “Hello, Luc. I wondered when I’d hear from you.”

He jerked to a stop in the middle of the corridor. “How did you know it was me?”

“Besides the fact that very few people have this number and even fewer would call from a French city code?”

A chuckle eased some of the tension from his muscles, and he sank into a chair at an empty table. “Caller ID takes away some of the surprise, I guess.”

“Partly, but there’s also the fact that I spent the greater part of an hour last night convincing Daniela she could trust you without revealing what you are.”

“You can’t reveal my secrets without revealing your own.”

Her voice lost some of its Welsh charm and turned cold and businesslike. “I suppose you’ve called to tell me where you hid the Staff of Octavius.”

“Wrong.” He shifted in his seat and glanced around the mostly empty car. He would’ve preferred having this conversation in private, but hopefully no one would overhear him and think he was a raving lunatic. “I want to discuss something of a more personal nature, and I was hoping you might be able to help me.”

“Are you going to tell me where the staff is?”

“Always looking out for what you want, huh, Morwen?”

“Perhaps you don’t understand what’s at risk, Luc.” Even from the other side of the world, her anger seemed to sizzle through the phone, but he doubted her magic could reach him from that distance.

“On the contrary, I understand all too well what’s at risk. That’s why I took the trouble to find it and hide it from the likes of Hitler and Mussolini. I’m the only one who knows its location, and I can’t use it, unlike a couple of witches I know. It’s safe.”

“It would be safer in my possession.”

“I’m not so certain about that.” He flagged down a waiter and ordered two glasses of wine. “But back to my concerns. You’re the only person I know of who can answer my question. Can someone like me have a beating heart?”

Silence filled the airwaves for nearly half a minute, followed by a string of words in a language spoken centuries before he was born. “You’re not mocking me, are you?”

He placed his hand on his chest and still felt the dull thump on the left side, although now it seemed slower and less powerful than it had when he’d left Daniela. “I swear upon the cross that it’s true.”

More words in ancient Gaelic, some of which had to be curse words based on the tone. “Who caused it?”

“So I have to blame a person for my newest malady?”

Another pause. “Shit! It’s Daniela, isn’t it?”

“Is this due to some spell she might have cast on me?”

“No, no, no.” A heavy sigh came from the other end of the phone. “Part of me wants to tell you to stay the hell away from her, but you’re right. Only I can understand what you’re going through.”

“Please tell me it will go away as soon as she leaves.”

“Maybe, but you’ll always crave her. And if you taste her blood—”

“That won’t even be an issue. I’m above such things. I’ve trained myself not to give in to that temptation.”

“Are you certain you’ll be able to resist her?”

Luc rubbed his forehead. How close did he get less than an hour ago when his fangs dented the skin over her jugular? “I have resisted her so far.”

“You think you’re unbreakable?” More laughter. “I remember when I used to feel that way. Then I met Jack.”

“And you went on living without him. This is nothing for me to worry about, then?”

“On the contrary, it is something to worry about. She’s the reincarnation of your soul mate.”

He snorted. “I don’t believe in any of that nonsense. Besides, I’ve never loved any woman, not in all my 647 years.”

“Maybe not in this life, but in the one prior—”

“I’m not even going to indulge this ridiculous conversation further.” He straightened up in his chair. His pulse pounded in his forehead, heating his skin and causing sweat to bead up around his hairline. “I’m still undecided on whether or not I’ll take Daniela to where the staff is hidden. Until then, my dear Morwen,
au revoir
.”

He clicked the phone closed just before the waiter placed the glass of wine in front of him. Soul mate? What nonsense! It was all drivel that gypsies tried to fool idiots into believing. He was a man of God. When people died, their souls went to their final judgment. They weren’t reborn again into new bodies.

Another lurch in his chest reminded him that perhaps everything he’d been taught by the Church could be wrong. After all, he was technically dead, yet his soul remained trapped in an ageless body, eternally damned on this earth. He rubbed his chest, hoping it would ease the ache building inside. This state of undeath was never mentioned in the Bible.

He exchanged his phone for a small tin in his pocket and added a few pinches of the dark, rust-colored powder to his wine. Another trick he’d learned from Morwen. Adding dried blood made any human food seem palatable. It helped him pass for one of them.

“I see you already ordered for me.” Daniela lowered herself into the chair across the table. Her tousled hair and flushed skin reminded him of their recent interlude.

He could still smell the scent of her arousal, and his cock hardened.
Mon Dieu
, he shouldn’t still want her. “You took your time getting dressed.”

“I had to retrieve some new underwear from my bag. Seems someone ripped my last pair in his impatience.” Despite her accusing tone, she winked at him. “Have you had a chance to look at the menu?”

“I’m not hungry for dinner.” He wanted to smack himself as soon as he said that. He hungered for the unthinkable, but she took his comment as mere flirtation.

Her grin broadened. “I’ll eat quickly then.”

Luc gritted his teeth. She seemed all too eager to meet her death. He waited silently while she ordered, focusing on the rhythm of his breathing and the continual beat that reverberated from his chest through his body.
I will not give in to temptation
, he repeated over and over in his mind. Slowly, he gained control of his bloodlust.

“Thank you for ordering the wine.” She took a sip and he mirrored her actions. So far, she showed no indication she knew what he was. Their behavior reminded him of all the young couples he saw sitting at the café tables that lined the Champs-Élysées. “Do you mind if I ask where we’re going?”

“To my house in Paris.”

“And is that where the staff is?”

“No.” He took his time with his next sip of wine and watched her temper rise. Satisfied he’d washed away all her impure thoughts for the time being, he continued, “My notes are there. If I find you trustworthy, perhaps I’ll give you a copy of them so you can figure out where I hid the pieces.”

“The pieces?” Her mouth hung open. “How did you manage to break it?”

He rubbed his arms, remembering the electric shock that ran through him when he separated the headpiece from the rest of the staff. Such a jolt would have killed a normal mortal. It took him nearly a month to heal from the burns it left behind. “It wasn’t easy.”

She cocked her head to the side. “I’m still in awe that you lived to tell about it. The Staff of Octavius is rumored to be indestructible.”

“But there’s the loophole. I didn’t destroy it. I just rendered it useless. You need both parts in order to use it.”

“Why did you feel the need to do such a thing?”

“This isn’t a child’s toy we’re talking about.” He clasped his hands together and leaned forward on the table. “When Octavius conquered Egypt, he stole the staff from Cleopatra’s treasury. Before him, it belonged to Alexander the Great, and Ramses II before him. Notice a trend here?”

The corner of her mouth rose in a wry smile. “You don’t have to repeat the staff’s history to me. I’m more curious about your part in the story. You found it and wouldn’t use it?”

“I could ask you the same thing. Unlike me, you are capable of unlocking its power.”

“So you’re not a warlock, then.” The waiter placed her plate in front of her and she dug into the pasta instead of continuing the conversation.

Luc welcomed the silence. If she continued her line of questioning, she would probably discover what he was. He weighed the pros and cons of telling her the truth. Would she run for her stake, despite his protestations that he wasn’t a bloodthirsty killer? His gaze fell on the thin aqua veins that laced her hands and his mouth grew dry. Who was he kidding? If he saw a fleck of her blood, he’d probably surrender to his bloodlust. What would happen then? Would he be tempted to turn her?

Daniela sopped up the last traces of sauce with a piece of bread. “So what are you? A vampire hunter?”

A river of ice coursed through his veins. “Why does it matter?”

“I’d like to know what resources I have at my disposal. You obviously know Morwen, and yet you claim you can’t use magic.”

“So you automatically assume I’m a hunter. Can’t I just be a man who knows a bit more than the average human?”

“There’s nothing average about you, Luc.” She stared at him over the rim of her wineglass while she drained the contents. “How did you spot the vampires so quickly at the train station?”

What would be a believable lie? Although he hadn’t seen his reflection in over 600 years, he could still feel the two tiny mounds of scar tissue on his neck. He rubbed them with his finger.

She gasped. “You were bitten?” He nodded, and pity darkened her green eyes. “No wonder you hate them. How did you survive?”

He almost growled
I didn’t
, but something held him back. Had his centuries of restraint altered him enough to make him appear almost human to one of the Foundation’s members? Was this how Morwen fooled them all? “Can we change the subject? I don’t want anyone to overhear this conversation and think you’re insane.”

“Of course.” She cleared her throat. “Sophia mentioned you’re in the habit of rescuing lost souls.”

He chuckled. “Jealous already?”

“More like curious.” Daniela tucked her hair behind her ear and jutted her bottom lip out into a pout. “Is this how you rescue all of them?”