The Perfect Kiss (16 page)

A shadow passed across the moon, so swiftly she thought she must have imagined it at first. The breeze picked up, colder now, fraught with some subtle undercurrent that made Anya shiver with dread. There was an evilness in the air that settled over her like a death pall. And it came to her suddenly that Zach was out there in the darkness somewhere. Close. Very close.

And so was Gershom.

No!
It couldn’t be! It was more of his mind games to torment her, to keep her in agony until she wavered, succumbed once again to his lure. He was thousands of miles away, in his homeland, where his strength was the greatest. He would never venture this far, not for her. He would never risk weakening his powers. She would be safe, now that she had left Zach. Zach would be safe. The threat had been removed, and she was back in
her
home, where her resistance was the greatest.

But even as Anya tried to convince herself that what she experienced was only imagination, something changed in the night wind. There was something in the breeze now. A new scent. A sweet, tantalizing fragrance that she knew only too well.

Blood.

Zach’s blood.

She tried to deny it, but the scent came to her again, stronger, more demanding. Zach had followed her to the country, and now he was lying hurt somewhere, bleeding….

And out there in the darkness, Gershom could be watching and waiting and wanting her more than ever as he lured her with cunning precision from the safety of her home.

“Don’t go,” she whispered to herself. “Don’t go out there.” But the warning melted in the breeze. The scent of Zach’s blood washed over her, exciting the hunger inside her until she wasn’t sure which drew her to the darkness—her terrible fear for Zach’s safety…or her desperate need for his warmth.

As silent as the silvery mist, Anya slipped from the house. She embraced the darkness, letting the sounds and smells of the night guide her. There was an urgency to her movements. She ran lightly through the darkness, glancing over her shoulder every few seconds. A shadow seemed to
be pursuing her. A shadow that was ready to swoop down from the moon and grab her. It was coming closer, closer….

The wind whipped at her coat, tangled in her hair. Anya’s heart pumped in terror. The night welcomed her, seduced her with a sly skill she had long since learned to distrust. There was danger here. Danger at every turn.

The mist seemed to clear a bit as she came out of the woods near the road. The first thing she saw was Zach’s car rammed against a tree. But there was no movement around the area, no sign of life. Anya ran toward the car, her heart in her throat.

He was lying on the ground outside the car, and for a moment, Anya’s heart stopped. He lay so still! So silent! Then she heard the unmistakable sound of his heartbeat, as loud as a drum in the silence. He roused slightly as she knelt over him. He opened his eyes and looked around, dazed. Blood trickled from a cut on his forehead, and with trembling fingers, Anya reached to touch it.

“Anya?” He whispered her name in amazement.

“Shush.” She touched his head, and her fingers trembled against his skin as she gently, oh so gently, wiped away the blood. She lifted her fingertips to her lips and fire exploded inside her. Pure white heat…

A shudder ripped through her body as she withdrew her fingers from her lips.

“How did you know where to find me?” Zach asked suddenly, sitting up.

“I was outside,” Anya said, cradling her hand like a wounded bird against her breast. “I…heard the sound of the crash.”

“Then I must have been closer to your house than I thought.” He glanced around at the misty, forbidding woods. “This is some place you’ve got here,” he murmured.

“Can you walk?” she asked, casting an uneasy glance over her shoulder. They had to get out of here. For more reasons than one. “We have to get back to the house.”

“It’s a cinch we can’t drive,” he said, wincing as he took in the smashed front end of the Viper. “Damn,” he muttered. “I can’t believe I did something that stupid. There was something in the road…at least, I thought I saw something….” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I can’t seem to remember. I know I was tired and mad and not paying enough attention to the road. I was thinking about you.”

“You’re angry with me,” she said softly. “Because I left.”

“Damn right. You left me in a very difficult position, Anya. What in the world possessed you to run off like that? In case you’ve forgotten, we have an ironclad contract.”

“I haven’t forgotten anything,” she said, her gaze lingering on the thin trail of blood trickling down his cheek. She began to tremble all over again as she closed her eyes briefly and whispered, “I did what I had to do.”

“Which was?”

She glanced away, casting another furtive look over her shoulder. Zach felt the anger boiling inside him again, but for some reason, when he looked at her, gazed into those extraordinary silver eyes, his rage dissolved. She seemed so vulnerable out here. More fragile somehow. Suddenly, he only wanted to protect her. From himself? From the night? He wasn’t quite sure, but her sense of urgency had rubbed off on him. He struggled to his feet, bracing himself against the car. “Let’s go,” he said, blinking rapidly to try to clear the spots swimming before his eyes. “We’ll talk about this later.”

She had risen, too, and peered at him in the darkness.
Her eyes were like sterling pools of seduction as she gazed up at him. Slowly, very slowly, her hand lifted to his head.

“You’re bleeding again,” she whispered, her voice trembling with an emotion Zach couldn’t quite define.

“It’s just a scratch,” he said, mesmerized by the ragged tone of her voice. “If the sight of blood bothers you so much, I’ll cover it.”

He removed a white handkerchief from his pocket and started to lift it to the wound, but Anya took it from him, her voice desperate-sounding in the misty darkness. “Let me,” she whispered.

Her touch was incredibly gentle, powerfully erotic. Zach wondered if the blow to his head had unhinged him somehow. The uneasiness of the past few moments evaporated. The only urgency he felt now was to take Anya into his arms, to feel her lips beneath his as he devoured her with his passion.

His hand reached up and closed around hers. He could feel her tremble beneath his touch, as though she, too, were deeply moved. Deeply aroused. They were standing face-to-face. Her eyes were beckoning to him, like silver flames in the darkness, and her lips were so close, so beautifully close….

Anya.

Had he whispered her name, or was it merely the wind in the trees? Her own eyes seemed to shadow with confusion. She glanced up, a quick, uneasy movement, as though she, too, had heard something in the breeze.

An icy chill closed in on Zach, and the pain in his head began to throb even harder. Anya wavered before his eyes, like a mystical illusion he knew would shatter at his touch. He reached for her, anyway, wanting to draw her into the protection of his arms, but the blackness was too strong.

Like a steel curtain, it dropped between them, and Zach
was powerless to fight it. It drained every ounce of his energy, and suddenly, without warning, he felt himself pitching, face first, toward the ground.

* * *

He was dreaming.

At least, it seemed to be a dream. He was still lying on the ground, but the leaves beneath him made the softest of cushions. He was comfortable and content, with not the slightest inclination to move.

Especially when he saw Anya.

She was kneeling over him, her smile as misty and provocative as the night surrounding them. She touched his head, and her fingers were cool and soothing at first, then hot and demanding. Zach’s excitement stirred as he gazed into her eyes, as he willed her to come closer, closer….

She lowered her head and her lips grazed his, a whisper of a touch that sent his imagination soaring. Then her mouth moved downward, skimming his jaw, searching for the rapid pulse in his throat. Zach’s skin burned from her touch. She was teasing him, taunting him, tantalizing him with tiny kisses that drove him wild.

He wanted more. He was desperate for more. He wanted a deeper, more binding kiss….

* * *

Anya watched Zach sleep.

He moved restlessly against the mattress, throwing off the covers as the fever fired his skin. He groaned softly, erotically, a shocking sound that sent thrill after thrill streaking through her.

He was dreaming about her. About them. Anya could feel his excitement, his growing passion. She struggled to control her own whirling emotions, but the scent of his blood was still on her hand. She lifted it now and inhaled, letting the sweet perfume fill her being.

Every time Zach looked at her, the pull between them grew stronger. Every time he touched her, the lure deepened. Every time she thought about him, the excitement became irresistible.

A kiss.

Just one perfect kiss would bind them together forever.

Oh, to be in his arms at this moment. To feel his strength beneath her fingertips. To have him gaze into her eyes and know for the first time what it would mean to have him love her, really love her…

He would ravish her with kisses. His hands would worship her body until they were both trembling with passion, lost in a world of spinning desires. And then, when their bodies came together, when their souls began to merge, at the exact moment when Zach took her…

She would take him.

The power of the vision stunned her. Anya’s gasp rang against the silence of the bedroom where she had brought Zach a few hours ago. She put a hand to her breast, and felt the desperate pounding of her heart.

How much longer could she endure this? How much longer could she elude temptation when her yearning grew stronger and more demanding every second she was with him? How much longer would she have to go on denying herself a fulfillment that was like the essence of life itself?

For an eternity,
a dark voice inside her whispered.
Forever and ever and ever…

The knowledge crushed her. Anya bit back the bitter darkness welling inside her as she gazed out the window and waited for the light.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

S
unlight awakened him. Zach sat up in bed and looked around at his unfamiliar surroundings. The bedroom was spacious, but oppressive with its heavy, antique furniture, green velvet drapes, and dark-patterned wallpaper. Gauzy curtains suspended from the ceiling surrounded the elaborate, canopied bed, and a gold satin coverlet had been neatly folded at the foot.

Zach wasn’t used to such finery in sleeping accommodations. He felt like an idiot. Not only did the opulence of the room disturb him, but he had absolutely no idea how he’d gotten there. Lately, he’d been doing that a lot it seemed—having memory lapses. Especially after he’d been with Anya. If he didn’t know better—if the idea weren’t so completely preposterous as to border on lunacy—he might think she’d somehow hypnotized him. Mesmerized him. Made him remember only what she wanted him to.

The relentless pounding in his head drew his fingers to the wound on his forehead, and he winced. There was the reason for the memory lapse, he reminded himself. No big mystery. He’d nearly had his brains bashed out in a car crash. No wonder he couldn’t remember walking back to Anya’s house last night.

He swung his legs off the bed and sat for a moment, getting his equilibrium. He still wore the clothes he’d had on last night, but he noticed his bag had been brought in from the car. A shower, a shave and a change of clothes were definitely in order, but when he explored the adjoining bathroom, he discovered only an antique bathtub.

He made do, emerging from his room a little while later dressed in jeans and boots and a cotton shirt, feeling almost human again, and not nearly as sore as when he’d first awakened. He wandered down the stairs, taking in all the fascinating details of Anya’s home.

Like her place in the city, most of the windows were shuttered against the daylight. The rooms were all airy and spacious, but the lack of sunlight made them seem gloomy and not a little claustrophobic.

And also like her place in the city, a subtle aroma wafted on the air. A scent of something familiar, but Zach couldn’t quite put his finger on it. It wasn’t unpleasant, not at all, but there was something strange about that smell. It seemed…out of place somehow.

At the foot of the stairs, Zach met Freida. The grim-faced woman carried a silver tray laden with a covered bowl, a glass of water and a red silk rose.

“Hello,” Zach said. “It’s Freida, isn’t it?”

The little woman paused with one foot on the bottom step. She looked at him with reproachful blue eyes, obviously none too happy to see him. “Good morning,” she said. “Your breakfast will be served in the dining room.”

“Is Anya already in there?” Zach asked, “or is this tray for her?”

“Anya is…eating in her room.”

“I hope she’s not ill,” Zach remarked quickly.

“She’s working.”

“I see. Well, why don’t you let me take the tray up to her? It looks pretty heavy, and besides, I need to have a word with her this morning.”

Freida’s blue eyes narrowed with displeasure. “She doesn’t like to be disturbed while she’s working. You must go on into the dining room. I’ll bring your breakfast to you shortly.” The more agitated she grew, the thicker her accent
became. She nodded curtly, dismissing him as she turned to carry the tray upstairs. Zach caught her arm, and she stopped, giving him a piercing blue glare.

“Just one more question,” he said. “I don’t seem to remember much about last night. How did I get here?” When the woman merely stared at him, Zach said impatiently, “Did I walk here with Anya? Did someone—your husband perhaps—drive us here? How’d I get upstairs and into bed without ever being roused?”

“You had a bad blow to the head,” Freida said, as though that explained everything. She looked as if she wanted to say more, but stopped herself by pursing her lips. This time, when she turned back to the stairs, Zach didn’t try to stop her.

He watched and waited until she’d disappeared around the landing, then slipped up the stairs behind her, hiding in the shadows at the end of the hallway until he saw her set the tray down outside a closed door.