Night's Cold Kiss (19 page)

He pulled back to stare into her eyes. “Are you certain?”

Antoinette couldn’t trust her voice to answer. She returned his intense gaze and nodded. Barely touching her, he caressed her throat before he unbuttoned the light cotton top she wore.

“What are you doing?” Her voice quivered. Even though she wanted him to continue, she wasn’t sure she was ready.

“I need to remove your shirt—it’s in the way.” His husky voice sent shivers through her.

“Oh…right.” She felt her face flush as he continued.

“Shouldn’t you hurry? You’ve got to reach him before—”

Whatever she was about to say flew out of her mind as he bent forward and gently nipped the lobe of her ear. His lips were so cold against her warm flesh, so intense, pleasure and pain burned simultaneously, scorching her with a desire she’d never felt before.

“It will take a few minutes for the chopper to get ready—we’ve plenty of time,” he whispered in her ear. Running his fingertips along her collarbone, he pushed open her shirt and she gasped when his arm brushed her breast. He paused, his eyes burning with a deep hunger. Antoinette had to look away to conceal her own longing.

“Do you want me to stop?” he whispered.

“No—” Her voice sounded breathless in her ears. Swallowing hard, she said, “No, don’t stop.”

“Good.” He slipped the shirt from her shoulders, dropping it to the floor, leaving her dressed only in a filmy lace bra and a pair of jeans. The frigid air surrounding him raised goose bumps on her bare flesh, causing her nipples to tighten further.

He placed a gentle, chilly hand on the small of her back and pressed her against him. She instinctively stepped back when she saw his elongated teeth, until she noticed some
thing else—he was excited in more ways than one. Against all possibility in his weakened state, the evidence lay hard against her stomach.

For some strange reason this calmed her, and she relaxed into his embrace. At the touch of his lips at the base of her throat, Antoinette’s breath froze. With a momentary flash of pain, his fangs pierced the skin then a jolt of pure ecstasy shot down her spine—straight to her loins—pooling there to lap in delicious waves of delight. Her legs buckled, but he lifted her tightly against him.

Electric currents surged through her body—as if she was being struck time and again with lightning bolts of pure pleasure. Someone was moaning. She realized it was her. Clinging to him, she no longer cared about her desire or his. She no longer cared about anything accept the satisfaction that lay just beyond her reach.

Vaguely aware his lips had grown warm against her flesh and his hand was no longer icy where it touched her back, she trembled. Just when she thought she could take no more without exploding in rapturous glory, her vision swam.

No! Stop.

She sank into blackness.

Christian scooped her up and lay her down on the unmade bed. He’d deliberately not told her she’d be incapacitated by his feeding, but she wouldn’t have gone through with it if he had.

She’d been right—they didn’t have time for anything else, and with all the staff having “no donation” clauses in their employment contracts, she was the only one available. So it was her or risk losing Williams.

So pale and so fragile.

He gently pushed the hair away from her face and planted a tender kiss on her forehead. With relief he listened to the strong, steady beat of her heart.

Blood, her blood, sang through his veins, charging him with intense energy. Never before had he tasted anything like her. Foremost was her passion, hot and sweet, dancing on his palate above the tang of fear. The subtle earthiness of her sorrow lingered on his lips along with the slight bitterness of her ever-present hatred. But there was something else, something he had never tasted before. It was like liquid lightning surging through his body—white-hot and powerful.

The rhythmic rise and fall of her chest held him mesmer
ized. His throat constricted as he traced his fingertip across her breast along the edge of the sexy red lace of her bra before he bent forward and inhaled her fragrance. Her sweet breath brushed his lips as he lowered them to hers and savored the silky texture of her mouth.

The sound of the approaching helicopter broke the spell. Christian sighed and pulled up the covers. He changed quickly then picked up his cell and a yellow envelope containing five thousand dollars. As he reached the door, he glanced back at her sleeping form and cursed that time had not allowed him to experience her as fully as he would’ve liked. Would she have let him? Maybe—maybe not. Reluctantly, he unbarred the door and opened it to find his mother standing there.

“About bloody time. I’ve been standing here for the last twenty minutes thinking you were dead.” Lilijana burst into tears and hugged him. “Thank goodness we weren’t too late. Are you okay?” she asked, her expression full of concern and so different from her usual haughty countenance.

“Yes, Mother, I’m fine.” He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her cheek. “It was close, but Antoinette saved me.” Again, he looked to where she lay. “She’s weak and may need a transfusion.”

“Of course,” she said and frowned. “But where are you going?”

“I have to stop someone from leaving the country—someone who may be able to lead us to Viktor’s murderer.”

Grief flashed before Lilijana’s gaze steeled. “Go—I’ll take care of the girl.”

A few minutes later Christian climbed into the helicopter and donned a headset before giving the pilot the thumbs-up. The whining pitch of the engine grew higher as the rotors built up speed for takeoff. Within a few minutes Christian was on his way to the airport.

The flight seemed to take forever, but finally they reached the glittering sea of jewels that was New York, nearing John
F. Kennedy International Airport. Christian ripped off his headset and jumped out before the chopper even touched down, then ran toward Terminal 7 and British Airways. It was quicker this way than any other transport available.

He entered the terminal and slowed down. Searching for the contact he’d called from the chopper or for Williams. A uniformed security guard approached him and smiled.

“I got your call, sir.” Christian’s man, posing as the security guard, nodded. “I’ve located the suspect and he’s this way.”

Christian used his badge to get past the customs people, following his man through to the bar beyond customs. The guard stopped inside the doorway and turned his back to the patrons, blocking their view of Christian. “He’s over there in the far corner.”

Christian glanced over the guard’s shoulder. Williams sipped a glass of spirits, his nervous eyes continually darting around the room.

The guard held open his uniform jacket. Christian slipped the yellow envelope into an internal pocket as he slid by and headed for his target.

Williams looked up and his eyes widened as Christian came to a stop by his table. Christian growled, hauling the man to his feet by the front of his jacket.

“You’ve got no right to touch me,” Williams said, trying to cover his unease with a confident façade.

“You had no right getting my friend killed,” Christian hissed, his lips pulling into a snarl.

The former ambassadorial aide’s eyes gravitated toward Christian’s extended fangs and his face dropped. “Please, please don’t hurt me,” Williams whimpered. Terror seeped from every pore, the spicy scent filling Christian’s nose.

“Why didn’t you turn up to the meeting?” Christian asked.

“I was ordered not to.”

“By whom?”

“I don’t know.” Andrew’s eyes darted left and right again, his pupils dilating. A lie.

“Volunteer the information on your own—or don’t. Actually…” Christian widened his smile and let the man see his fangs. “I’d prefer it if you don’t.”

Williams’s eyes almost rolled back in his head. Christian thought he was going to have an epileptic fit.

“Okay, okay—but not here. Get me somewhere safe—protect me and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

“Protect you from whom?” Christian asked.

“From the Old One, and that’s all I’ll tell you until I’m safe.”

Christian considered this for a second. “Why should I trust you?”

“Because I need protection and you need answers.” Williams’s mock confidence returned, but only for a second. “Look, if you can find me, so can he. And I’m definitely a dead man if I’m seen talking to you.”

“All right.”

Williams scooped up his briefcase and jogged to keep pace as Christian dragged the former ambassadorial aide by his upper arm toward the bar’s exit.

Halfway across the terminal Christian relaxed his grip slightly and Williams took advantage, yanking his arm free. He ran toward airport police, pointing at Christian and yelling that he was trying to kill him. With supernatural speed, Christian caught him within a few paces and spun him around. “Listen here, you little sh—”

A nanosecond after the distinctive popping of a rifle being fired through a silencer, the bullet smashed into Williams’s skull, hitting him just above the right eye with a sickening crunch. His eyes went wide and then dulled as his life seeped from the bullet hole in his forehead. He was dead before he hit the floor.

“Place your hands above your head and step away,” a quivery voice demanded.

Christian sunk to a crouch, his vision clouded by rage.

“Stand and put your hands up.” A clearly nervous young policeman stood with his pistol trained on him.

Christian snarled and twisted toward the direction of the shot.

“This is your last warning,” the policeman said, his voice cracking.

Christian heard the words, but they weren’t important—catching Williams’s killer was. People murmured, someone screamed, running footsteps neared, but Christian zoned in on a man crouched behind a potted plant on the inner balcony two stories above wearing a hat and dark glasses. As he lowered the high-powered rifle, a puckered scar running down his left cheek to his jaw showed up from behind his glasses.

Human.

Another snarl rumbled in his chest and bubbled up his throat, building to a full-blown roar. The metal click of guns surrounded him but Christian ignored them. Coming to his feet, he started to run, sweeping aside a policeman who tried to block his path, sending the unfortunate man sliding across the floor into a trash can.

“Stop!” voices yelled from behind, but he didn’t have time to stop or explain.

The man saw Christian coming and slung the rifle over his shoulder before running. Leaping, Christian made the third-floor railing with ease, then pain seared through his shoulder. He fell two stories to land on his back. A half dozen police surrounded him, all pointing their pistols at his head.

When the helicopter touched down in the grounds of his estate, Christian climbed out and looked at his house. Nothing had been gained by rushing off to stop Williams. Their only lead was dead and his killer had escaped. Christian had spent an entire day in a holding cell while the police checked his credentials.

After Intel had vouched for him, they finally let him go with an apology. He’d then returned to headquarters to make a report on Williams’s murder and have the slugs removed.
The wounds had healed over and trapped the bullets inside his flesh, which had to be opened again. Anesthetic was ineffective on an Aeternus, so the operation was more painful than the actual shooting.

Christian’s steps slowed as he neared the house. He’d failed. He looked to the dark window of his room where he’d left Antoinette sleeping.

Would she be there? The memory of her blood still sang in his body but he didn’t have time to dwell on such things. There were other matters that needed his attention now and he’d already wasted enough time wallowing in his own self-pity. If he hadn’t, maybe Williams would still be alive.

He entered through the conservatory and headed straight for his room, finding Antoinette still asleep and Lilijana curled up on the sofa chair in the corner.

His mother stirred as he neared the bed. “Christian?”

“Mother,” he said, surprised she’d stayed.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Not here,” he whispered, not wanting to disturb Antoinette just yet.

Lilijana rose and followed him into the next room. “Something big is going on here. Viktor’s death, that girl in there, you rushing off last night; they’re all connected. Tell me what’s going on.”

Christian sucked in the air through his teeth. Time to come clean. “It appears that The Troubles may have returned to haunt us.”

His mother cocked her head to the side and frowned. “But wasn’t Dante Rubins behind it?”

Christian paced the carpet. “Viktor never believed Dante was the sole instigator and it was never technically proven that he was involved at all.” He stopped and looked at his mother. “How did you know about Dante? CHaPR and the Department had ordered the files sealed.”

“You weren’t the only one Viktor confided in. He didn’t tell me everything, but enough for me to join some dots.” She sat in a large leather armchair, the simpering heiress
persona completely gone. At that moment she looked every bit the 752-year-old Aeternus she was. The aura of power rolled off her. Christian shook his head…only a few got to see her as she was now and those times were rare, even for him.

As if reading his thoughts, she smiled. “The world never gives up secrets in front of a confident, intelligent woman, but a shallow, petulant girl can learn many things if she keeps her eyes and ears open.” She leaned forward in the chair. “Does she know about her father?”

“Yes, Viktor told her. Not long before he died.”

“Good, she deserves that much at least. Now fill me in. Viktor only told me about Grigore’s disappearance but not why.” She pierced him with a disapproving glare. “He said you didn’t want me involved.”

He dragged a palm across his face. “I’m sorry, as always I underestimated you.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” she said with a flick of her wrist. “Who were you after last night and what went wrong?”

Christian told her everything, the full story of Grigore’s disappearance, Williams’s involvement, and Viktor’s investigation, which eventually led to his murder.

She sat in silence, listening until he’d finished and frowned. Resting her elbow on the arm of the chair, she cupped her chin thoughtfully. “Andrew Williams—he’s that little worm who worked for Sir Roger, yes?”

“Yes, that’s him. Why?”

“Valerica knows him. They were lovers.”

“Since when? I thought Williams preferred men.”

“More like enjoyed both, like Viktor. She’d been seeing him for at least six months or so—way before Grigore disappeared. He’s not her usual type and when I asked her why, she just said he had his uses.” Her frown deepened. “I wonder if it has anything to do with that group she’s involved with?”

“What group?” Christian asked.

“I overheard her on the phone one night talking to some
one about a gathering. I thought it must’ve been some new dance club or erotica group and asked if I could go along, but she fobbed me off with some lame excuse. She wrote it down—” She looked at her hands for a moment and then beamed. “The AR club or something like that.”

Ice twisted in his gut and he sat heavily on the sofa. “Are you sure?”

Lilijana leaned forward in her chair. “What is it?”

“AR—the Aeternus Re-Awakening cult Dante started a century ago. And it was under that banner he carried out the assassinations more than sixteen years ago. If Valerica was involved, Viktor would’ve told me.”

“If he’d known.” Lilijana sank back into the chair with a sigh. “Valerica was pretty angry with him for not contacting her for all those years.”

“Then I may not be able to keep my promise to Viktor after all. If the AR are involved—nothing will be able to save Valerica.”

Antoinette opened her eyes and a smile stole across her mouth as she stretched, feeling unusually delicious.

“So you’re finally awake,” Lilijana said from the chair by the bed.

“What time is it?” Antoinette croaked, her throat parched.

Lilijana passed her some water and Antoinette gulped it down. It tasted sweeter than the finest wine.

“It’s just gone midnight,” Lilijana said, taking the empty glass from her and placing it back on the nightstand.

Christian’s nightstand. It all came flooding back. “What happened? Where’s Christian?”

“You’ve been asleep for over twenty-six hours. You’ll feel weak for a little while, though we gave you a small transfusion to help you regain your strength.” Lilijana helped Antoinette to sit forward and plumped the pillows behind her. “Kavindish will bring up some broth shortly.”

He’d left her behind.
Bastard
.

Lilijana tucked the covers around Antoinette, avoiding her gaze. “Don’t be angry with Christian, he did what he thought was best.”

“He could have told me,” she hissed.

“Would you have been so generous if you’d known?”