To Have: Vampire Assassin League #19 (2 page)

What the hell was going on?

A moment ago, she’d been standing in place. One knee slightly bent. Back straight. A hand resting nonchalantly on her hip. Poised. Assured. Perfectly arrayed. Feeling the brush of her hair on the small of her back. The already-distasteful touch of Goldstein’s fingers on her other arm. And something really...weird. A tingle of something had raced along her spine. She’d been watching too, as something had flashed in the dark corner. And then...

Shit.

She didn’t recall. Her head hurt too much. Her eyes burned so she kept them squeezed shut. Her hearing was all messed up. The only thing she could make out was the slightest hum of high-pitched sound. Someone had yelled, something resembling a wall had hit her, and now an octopus had her; one with tentacles made of iron. Evie opened her mouth to scream and sucked in salt water. What had happened to the air? Her heart slammed against her ribs with painful beats that matched the humming noise.

Oh. This was a nightmare. An instant immersion in psychosis. Everything was wrong. And she was not going down without a fight. Her toes hit something. Her fist something else. But it was her knee thrust that got her released. Sand scrubbed her knees and elbows before she pushed up, gasping for air. And the moment she reached it, she got knocked back down by a wave.

A wave?

She was in the Atlantic Ocean?

Her arm got snagged by another tentacle. She got hauled upward, reaching her shoeless feet and getting held in place despite each wave that tried to knock her back down. Her eyes were running with tears that wouldn’t stop, and what had been a perfection of sun-kissed blond waves down her back was now a hair-spray-filled mass that resembled tangled seaweed and it was plastered just about everywhere.

Oh. If this octopus-thing was trying to kill her, it shouldn’t give her air. Evie would’ve been screaming but she had to choke seawater out first, and then she was bent forward and gagging with it. Great. Just great.

And why couldn’t she hear anything?

She was shaking, too. Not a small shake, either. The tremor that gripped her was debilitating. Frightening. This nightmare had been too instantaneous, too real, and it seemed to be never-ending. The tentacles turned into arms. And they lifted her. Held her against what felt like a man’s chest, in something resembling a hug. And if she started crying, she was really going to be ticked.

It just felt so...right. So secure. So safe.

His chest rumbled as if he said something. Evie shook her head, rubbing her hair-covered forehead along his shoulder. The contact scrubbed at her skin. Wow. Her hair had taken a beating. No. Maybe it was part of her hair extensions. She’d paid for real hair, but the beautician might have given her synthetic. That might explain why it felt like the surface texture of a bristle pad.

She needed to figure this out. She couldn’t just be locked in a stranger’s arms, while he stood in the ocean. Something momentous had happened. Something earth-shattering. His legs flexed, and a moment later, they weren’t in the ocean at all, they were above it, and rising ever higher. Air glided along her exposed skin, pushing the hair off her face. Evie cracked an eye open and blinked around the obstruction of a false eyelash that had come unglued. Surely that wasn’t a man’s chest? A bare one?

She opened her other eye. She could see!

But did she really want to?

Shit
. This just kept getting worse. Something severe had happened to the Rocking Horse. There was a large black hole on the seaward side of the building, and what looked like smoke was belching from it. And there were bodies. No. Wait. Not bodies, people. Some were moving rapidly. Some crawling. The higher she rose, the harder it was to make it all out. All kind of activity was happening down there. She could see spotlights. Red flashing lights. Blue ones. Police. Fire engines. Ambulances.

And that’s when the realization hit her.

There had been an explosion. Right where she’d just been. Why hadn’t she been in it? Had she died? And...was this her escort to the other side? Because, if it was, well. She could really like this. He was very solid. Lean. Muscled. Being held by him was a nice experience. Really nice. She snuggled closer. She shouldn’t have such thoughts right now. What if he was an angel? Having lustful thoughts about an angel was going to be hard to hide.

And then...another sense came back. She heard something! It started as a low rumble and then grew to sound like breathing. Hard. Heavy. Continual. Pushing his chest against hers with a matching rhythm. And before she could think that through, they started spiraling in a counter-clockwise motion. Whoever thought spinning was a good idea didn’t know her very well. Evie was the motion sick type. She didn’t ride carousels or merry-go-rounds. For a reason. And just before she tossed her cookies, the motion halted, slapping her drying mass of hairspray-soaked hair against her arm...and what felt like one of her bare breasts.

She’d have checked, but they started falling. Rapidly. With an increasing speed that should have started her screaming if she wasn’t holding her breath. Her heart went crazy, hitting away in her chest painfully. It filled her ears with heavy thumps of sound, and just before she was sure they’d slam into the shore, the freefall altered, sending them sideways. Her head felt like it might as well just fly off and save her the agony of a headache, while her belly wasn’t happy with the swooping motion, either. She couldn’t think, and the speed they were moving at made it difficult to see. And weren’t angels supposed to have wings, anyway?

Why wasn’t anything making sense?

She glanced out again. Nothing but darkness surrounded them. The feeling of wind. The smell of ocean and city. Evie swallowed to avert another round of queasiness, closed her eyes again, and pressed her forehead to what must be his neck. Wow. If she was dying, this was bad. Really bad.

Looked like she wasn’t bound for heaven.

That was a bummer.

~ ~ ~

He needed to calm down. Cease twirling about. Stop the massive surge of unmitigated emotion that sent him skyrocketing like a whirling dervish, before falling like a stone. It was exuberance on a grand scale. Joy to an astounding degree. Exhilaration beyond scope. It had started the moment the fire got quenched. He hadn’t even felt pain.

He had his mate!

By the great god of constructive energy,
Spenta Manyu,
it was as incredible as it was exciting. Thrilling. Electrifying. She probably thought him mad. She’d be right. He was infused with elation bordering on insanity. He had to calm this jubilation. Gather his wits. See her to the hangar. See her aboard his jet. Get home. He had to place her in her element. The palace he’d had constructed, with sky-high ceilings, gold and silk-lined walls and gold-striped columns.

He had to get her alone.

Oh.
Rostam, the Great!
Was that a breast against him? And he could feel it?

Daron glanced down at where she was smashed against him, showing the tops of her perfect breasts. He shuddered, groaned, and then moved even faster. This was sensory overload on a grand scale. It was happening to his upper abdomen. Right below his chest. She hadn’t worn much clothing before he’d dunked her in the ocean. He hadn’t any to give her. He’d lost his upper clothing, and pulled what was left of his ghotra about his forehead, shadowing his face. She hadn’t looked at him yet, but he wasn’t allowing it until his injuries abated. He didn’t know how badly he’d been mangled. And he’d been known as a handsome man. At least, that’s what every woman he’d ever come across told him. His mate’s first look at him shouldn’t be of pitted and oozing skin and ugliness.

No.

He wouldn’t allow it. And that made him move even faster.

He heard Vaughn before he saw him. The fellow wasn’t being remotely furtive. He was on a cell phone. Pacing. Daron dropped into the spot behind him with a lurch that jolted his mate. He wrapped his arm tighter about her. She didn’t respond. Maybe she wasn’t conscious.

“No. Sorry, Sir. I haven’t seen your boy. I just woke up. That’s what happens when one of you guys keeps me in limbo. Day sleeping. Night prowling. And this place doesn’t even have a decent gym, although I do appreciate the cold beer and stocked pantry. No, I didn’t know he was going to be at the Rocking Horse tonight. He doesn’t tell me his plans. None of them do. Somebody blew a hole in the Rocking Horse? Bastards! That’s my favorite club down at the shore. Is it bad?”

Vaughn turned about, stopped, and cocked his head up in greeting as he saw Daron. His diatribe into the phone didn’t falter.

“Oh. Wait a sec. Looks like your man just dropped in. Yep. Got him right here. He’s a bit worse for wear...but intact. Looks like he brought company, too. A lady. Yeah. One with killer legs. Well. I can’t tell much because of all the hair, but if the legs are any indicator, your man has snagged himself a hot one, and I do mean H. O. T.”

Daron snarled.

“Um. I’m going to let you talk to him, Sir, before I get my head snapped off. Like...literally. Yeah. I’ll give him another cell.” Vaughn pitched another phone at Daron. He caught it before it vibrated. “About time you showed, Your Highness. It’s the big guy. Reassure him, okay? He’s worse than a mama grizzly with a day old cub. Look. I think I’ll just go and get the plane started. Deal?”

Daron nodded and slid the front of the credit-card sized phone open. Akron was speaking the moment he touched the button.

“Daron?”

“Sir?”

“It is you. Good. I understand there was a fairly large explosion down at the shore tonight.”

“Yes.”

“Well. Nobody approved 4-D techniques.”

“Wasn’t me, Sir. Suicide. Personal carry. C4.”

“And you didn’t stop him?”

“Why? Poetic justice. And he
was
after my hit.”

“Got him, too. Well. They have his lower torso, anyway.”

Daron grunted.

“Scanners report two confirmed dead, a dozen injured, and according to Nigel, what’s known as a shitload of partygoers still unaccounted for.”

“Where is the pipsqueak anyway?”

“Nigel is in what’s known as time-out.”

“You put Nigel in time-out?”

“I just said so.”

“Really?”

“Don’t ask.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“He was perpetrating ceaseless attempts at information gathering. And he’s not even sneaky. You have your mate, then?”

Daron stilled instantly. Akron’s abilities always surprised. “Yes.”

“She survive the blast?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Keep in touch this time. I don’t like worrying.”

Daron was smirking before he chucked the cell into the trash bin. Akron. Worrying? If he hadn’t just heard it, he wouldn’t have believed it.

“Did he just call you...Highness?”

His mate spoke, sending a hint of breath that raised a legion of goose bumps on his skin. It affected everything. It even altered his voice, making it higher-pitched than normal when he answered.

“Uh...yes.”

“Highness?”

Daron cleared his throat. “Yes. I am called that because it is my title. I am a prince. From the Achaemenid Dynasty.”

She didn’t answer for a bit. Daron moved, using his free hand to pat down the back of his head. It wasn’t hair. It was moist-feeling. Bubbly? It definitely did not feel normal. And that meant she wasn’t to see him. Not yet. Not when he was ugly. He brought his arm back down. For the first time since immortality, he actually could have used a mirror.

“Am I...dead?”

Her voice was hesitant. Lovely. It started a riot of reaction throughout his entire body again. His legs even trembled.

“There is no correct answer,
eshq-e man
,” he answered. Daron stiffened slightly and nipped at his tongue. The words had slipped. He hadn’t meant to call her his love. Well...not this soon. But she didn’t seem to notice.

“There was an explosion?”

“Yes.”

“Right where I was standing.”

That time it wasn’t a question. It was a statement of fact.

“Again. Yes,” he answered.

“Then, I’m dead.”

“Yes and no.”

“You might as well just tell me. I mean, everyone dies sooner or later. But this really sucks. I’m young and I really wanted to make an impression...and. Crap. Just. Crap. Tonight was my night, know what I mean?”

“Tonight?”

His heart wasn’t the lone casualty of those words. He was having trouble breathing as well. The motion was nearer a gasp, each one matching hers. Was it possible? Maybe – even – she’d
felt
him?

“I dressed this way for Mister Goldstein. Okay? I mean, I don’t normally look like this.”

Well. That deflated his recognition theory, and severely undermined his self-confidence. Especially with how her head shifted...as if she might be trying to catch a glimpse of him. Oh, no. Not yet.

“Goldstein’s dead, too, isn’t he?”

“Gold...stein?”

His voice warbled. He should have cleared his throat again. This was incredible. He was acting unsure and hesitant? A prince of the mightiest realm the ancient world had seen? A man used to commanding his own section of the army? A man feted and acclaimed everywhere he went. A man who...
what had she just asked him?
Goldstein. Goldstein. Did he know a Goldstein?

His mind wasn’t functioning. It was competing with his body and losing. Every cell that hadn’t reanimated was doing so, and every bit of him felt it. She should feel it, too, since he was trembling in place. But before he could formulate a reply, Vaughn started speaking over the loudspeaker right beside his ear. Daron jumped.

“Greetings, Your Highness! You and your guest want to board, already? Engines are revved. We’re cleared for take-off. And you’ve got a bright sunny day in your immediate forecast. Could be a bitch for new initiates. So. You coming or not?”

Daron narrowed his eyes at the speaker. Vaughn was a skilled fighter, an excellent pilot, and usually a great companion. He hadn’t taken any interest in being immortal. Right now, he was close to getting that altered. And it wasn’t going to be pretty.

“Where are we going?” his mate asked, jolting him from his train of thought.

“Uh. Oh. My home.”

“Really? Okay. Just tell me it isn’t underground. That’s all I ask.”

Daron stilled. How could she have known that?

~ ~ ~

Evie jerked up her head with a motion that made her eye sockets start pounding. She skimmed a hand along what felt like satin before opening her eyes. Well. She’d been right. Upon close examination, it proved to be pale, peach-shaded satin. Puffed and quilted and embroidered throughout with little tiny stitches that made leaf-shaped patterns. She stared at it uncomprehendingly for a moment. Why was she face-down atop satin? And where was the guy with the voice like dark silk?

Oh. Wait. Something had happened.

But...what?

She dropped her head back. Surely, it weighed a ton and somebody was tapping on her temples with a little hammer in tempo with every pulse beat. She’d never had a migraine, but this must be what everyone moaned about. Somewhere above her was a light source. Not bright. Not glaring. It was diffused and soft, echoing the shade of the bedding. There was a barely-there vibration rippling through the structure she lay atop, too. Not a heavy rumble, just enough to provide a purring background.

Ah. That was right. She remembered now.

She’d died.

It was nice to find out there was an afterlife, but so far, it didn’t match anything she’d read or heard. There was no bright light. No murmur of voices. No loving arms reaching out to embrace and enfold. It was just a weird realm without one other soul in it. And what had happened to the guy with the incredibly sweet voice and even better embrace?

Was this purgatory, then? Solitary confinement, combined with massive ache?

Crudballs. She hurt almost everywhere. Her head was just the first casualty on her trip to awareness. Her shoulders and back joined up next, before the ache made it all the way to her toes. This wasn’t good. If this was purgatory, she was in real trouble.

And then it got worse. The structure she rested on dipped with a belly-churning motion before righting. Something flashed across the room. Evie turned her head in that direction. It was either a portal to another dimension or a very large mirror. And there was a banshee having a very bad hair day staring at her. The image’s eyes widened, and then they both slapped a hand to their mouths to stop the scream.

Hell’s bells. Was that...her?

“You may not wish to move about much.”

Evie dropped her face back onto the satin. Mister Silken Voice spoke from somewhere behind her. She didn’t know where he was. He hadn’t been in the mirror. Good thing, he might have seen her image, too.

“You may be suffering what is known as a concussion.”

“A concussion.”
Like that’s possible. When I’m dead?

“The internet search I did gave that as a probable result. Yes.”

“Internet search.”

“Yes. And you have my abject apologies.”

“For the internet?” Shit. Having this conversation was making her head hurt worse.

“No. For the bomb.”

“What bomb?”

“The one that exploded in the club last night.”

“Last night?” It was the next day?
Purgatory had days?

“Yes.”

“You mean...the explosion...was intentional?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, no. No. Please don’t tell me you’re...the bomber?” And if he was, that was some real shit. Would she really be expected to spend purgatory with her murderer? And be so attracted to him, her skin was rippling with goose bumps? There wasn’t a description for how awful that would be. And just what had she done to deserve it? Because if that was her penance, she didn’t even want to know what they gave adulterers or murderers. He was speaking again. She missed the first part. She blamed the headache.

“...apologies are for my lack of foresight. And then, my slowness.”

“Slowness?” Was she insane? Wasn’t he the entity that had somehow found her in the ocean, held her on her feet before rocketing skyward, and then ended it all by swooping about? And damn! Her belly churned just with the memory of that flight.

“You must rest. We will be arriving shortly.”

“Oh. That’s right. You did say we were going home. Yes?” Her voice was almost non-existent on the last word.

“Yes”

“Okay.” Her back actually sagged with what was probably relief. Or the satin just felt that nice. If she was going to his home, maybe it wasn’t hell, after all.

Maybe.

~ ~ ~

Daron watched her settle into the center of his over-sized bed. He amended that. He watched her upper thighs and the slightest glimpse of hot pink undergarment as she snuggled into a ball atop the mattress. Every iota of his frame was aware and alert, and bothersome. Daron put out a hand and watched it shake. He would never allow a woman to wear so little! Especially this one.

And this was why.

Hadn’t his natural life instructed him well enough? Women were not to be trusted. They used and manipulated. And if one was favored? Oh. Then, it was worse. They took a man’s emotions as their due and used it for their own ends. Any man allowing a woman that much power was a weakened man. A shell without integrity. A puppet at the end of a wire. Women were deceit wrapped in beauty. As for this emotion they called love? That was another lie. Perhaps, the biggest one. Any man allowing a woman into his heart gave away his power. His strength. His reason. Women started wars. Turned brother against brother.

Daron was proof.

He remembered it as if it happened yesterday. A woman was the reason he was here now. Undead. And she hadn’t been near as feminine and womanly as this one! But she’d been winsome enough. Lithe. Graceful. She’d gained his brother’s heart and his ear, but she’d wanted more. She’d wanted Daron. That’s why she spread lies, pretended ravishment, made accusations of rape. And that’s why his brother had set his soldiers upon Daron’s camp. Killing without one word of warning. Akron had whisked Daron from the carnage and given him vengeance. He had never looked back.

Until now.

Daron set his jaw and backed from the bed, calling on every reserve of strength. Women were nothing but trouble. He’d learned his lesson. But this one...
ah!

Daron had been mistaken. It wasn’t the great god,
Ahura Mazda,
controlling his fate. It had to be
Angra Manyu
, the god of darkness and destruction. That god was capable of sending such a woman into Daron’s sphere. Why else would his mate be so perfect? She stimulated and enthralled. He was having trouble just standing here. Everything about her called to every bit of him. This mating thing was powerful. Threatening with its strength. Almost frightening in scope. Proximity to her turned his thoughts to dust, his belly to a nest of writhing snakes, and his loins were a massive problem that was beginning to resemble a brazier, filled with white-hot coals.

He backed from her. Reached the door. Turned the handle down without looking and slid out into the main cabin. It was one of the hardest things he’d ever done.