Vampire Forgotten (2 page)

“You do not remember how you arrived at my front door last evening?”

The smoothly cultured tone of his voice painted a picture of Tuscany, fine wine in crystal goblets, and a soft concerto playing in the background. But those eyes, they conjured up an entirely different image. Silk sheets, hot, sweaty nights, and tangled limbs….in a room so dark she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face. 

Feeling only slightly guilty for her wayward thoughts, Mischa pushed the tangled mass of curls out of her face and shook her head.  “I don’t remember much before waking up in a bedroom I don’t recognize.”  She clutched the comforter tighter.  “Without my clothes.”

The half-smile became a full one.  “Then you really do not recall your arrival.”

Mischa was sure she didn’t want an answer to her next question, but she asked anyway.  “What do you mean?”

“You arrived wearing very little.  Nothing more than a scrappy piece of lace and high heels.”

Her heart increased its rhythm.  How in the hell could she have arrived without her clothes? “You’re lying.”

Dark eyebrows rose.  “I assure you I do not lie.”

“Why don’t I believe that?” Every man lied. It was in their genes. And why couldn’t she remember how she’d left the hotel room? Maybe that would tell her how she’d come to lose her clothes.

He seated himself on the edge of the bed.  “I have no idea since we have not met before now.”  He touched her knee through the thickness of the blankets.  “Or have we?”

She drew her feet to one side of the bed away from his reach.  “No, we have not met, and please don’t touch me.”  Though her lips made the request, her mind refuted it.
Please touch me. Caress my leg, my thigh, and…

Heat splashed her skin.
 
She pressed one hand against her cheek, and her palm burned.  What was happening, and why was Rhad Valentine staring at her lips like he wanted to feast on them?

“Look, Mr.  Valentine, I don’t know how I ended up on your front step.  I can only assume it was an accident.”

“An accident.  I see.”  Rhad pushed himself to his feet.  With his impressive height, he towered over her.  “And might I ask how you know my name?”

Damn. 
She’d never been good at keeping secrets.  “I’m not sure.”

He pressed his hands against the mattress too close for comfort.  “You are not a very good liar.”

His darkness reached out to her and threatened to drag her under.  She clenched both hands into the plump, dark comforter.  The air grew thicker, making it difficult to breathe.  He invaded her personal space without apology. 

“You need to back away,” she whispered.

In response, he leaned in even closer.  “Do I make you nervous?”

She scooted to the opposite edge of the bed.  “I’d like my clothes back now, and I’d like to leave.”

”As I told you, you did not arrive in proper clothing, but I have sent my housekeeper to acquire appropriate attire for you.  She should return shortly.  In the meantime, you should eat. You can join me in the dining room, or I can have a tray brought to you.”

“I’m not hungry.” Even as she spoke, her stomach growled, loud enough to make Rhad’s lips twitch.

He strolled toward the bedroom door with lithe grace Mischa envied.  “Do not be petulant, my darling.  You need to eat to build your strength.  When I held you in my arms last night, I barely knew you were there.” 

Dark eyes fixed on her face as he looked over his shoulder.  “When you have eaten and Madeline has returned with the clothes, you will be shown to the gazebo.  It looks like it will be a perfect evening.”

“I have no intention of staying.”  She didn’t draw attention to the endearment he’d used. 

His hand gripped the doorknob.  “We will discuss this later.”

Mischa knew when she was being patronized.  Her blood sizzled.  “No.  We will discuss it now.”

Rhad turned his head toward her, and red rimmed his beautiful, green eyes.  “Do not make the mistake of assuming you make the rules, Mischa. As you are a guest, I will allow you some leniency, but my patience will only be tested so far.”

His words should have scared her, and she did suck in a sharp breath, but it was only at the sound of her name. He knew her! Had he known she was coming?

“How do you know my name?”

He gave her a sly wink.  “I’m not sure.”  The door swept open and closed swiftly behind him.

Mischa scrambled out of the bed and wrapped the sheet around her toga-style.  Her toes sank into the plush carpeting as she raced around the room, looking for something to clothe herself in.  She didn’t know what she’d been thinking when she’d come here. 

Rianna had just talked so much about Rhad that Mischa was sure he must know something about her sister’s disappearance, and he knew her name. That said something, didn’t it?

A nervous knot formed in the pit of Mischa’s stomach. Could Mr. Valentine know more about Rianna’s disappearance than she wanted to know? One hand clutched her throat. From the little information she’d been able to glean about him, Rhad Valentine had few friends, but enemies by the score, none of which had ever gotten the best of him.

He was admired, feared, but mostly, avoided. Neither man nor beast crossed him, and Rianna spoke of him as if he were some type of god. But then her dear little sister had always been prone to embellishments.

Swallowing her hysteria, Mischa pulled the drawers out of the antique armoire.   She stepped over the fallen pile of wood and ran to the closet, but the emptiness echoed when she opened the door.  Nothing hung from the hangers, and even the shelves were bare.

“Damn,” she whispered without the usual apology she offered immediately afterwards. She whirled around, hastily scanning the room.

Then a shadow fell across her path, and Mischa gasped.  “You left,” she accused.

Rhad pushed the door shut with a simple flick of his wrist.  “And I came back.”

She backed up until her spine connected with the closet door.  “Why?”

He held up a bag.  “My housekeeper brought these clothes for you.  I told her I would deliver them.”

“On the off chance of seeing me naked?” Mischa shot him a dirty look.

“That would have been one of the perks, yes.”

She liked the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. Sex appeal dripped from every pore. It was no wonder Rianna had babbled on and on about this man. After clearing her throat, Mischa finally managed a reply. “Too bad I’m prepared for men like you.”

Startlingly white teeth flashed in a grin.  “You know nothing about men like me, Mischa, and until you do, you’d be wise not to antagonize me.”

She walked forward until the top of her head was a mere inch below his chin.  Tipping her head back to see his handsome face, for a brief second, she lost her train of thought, but the mocking smile quickly restored it.

“I know all about you, Mr.  Valentine.  You’re one of the last great vampires.  You feed off innocent people and instill fear in your victims, making their last grueling hours of life hell on Earth.”

That was the last of the information she’d discovered. Rhad Valentine was a vampire. She hadn’t believed it herself at first, but when she’d arrived in Romania, she soon found out that no one doubted the existence of the undead…especially when one lived two valleys over, and there was talk of others, though no one could confirm it.

Rhad twisted his watch around to see the time.  “That’s quite an imagination you have there, Miss Bonovich.” 

She refused to be intimidated by him. No matter what the cost to her own life, she would find out what happened to her sister. “Tell me how you know me. Did my sister tell you about me?”

Not even a hint of awareness flickered in his gaze. “I’m afraid I don’t know your sister.”  He flicked his finger under her chin.  “But I let no one stay in my home without knowing who they are.”

“I had no identification on me last night.”

“And you made sure of that, didn’t you?”

His hot breath bathed her cheeks, the scent reminiscent of fine whiskey.  “I’ve already told you I don’t know how I got to your house, Mr. Valentine. Whether or not you choose to believe it is your business.” Arms folded underneath her breasts, she challenged him. “So since you say you don’t know my sister, then suppose you tell me how you do know me.”

His fingers splayed out to circle the lower half of her face.  “Because I have been expecting you.”

His soul had begun to breathe.  Mischa was the woman he’d waited for, the one woman who would free him from the torment of his life.  The moment he heard her voice, he knew. The foundation beneath his feet had shifted and just watching her had given him the feeling of rebirth. He didn’t know how she’d gotten to his front door, but he knew why.

He brought his hands to his face and imagined he could still feel the warmth of her skin. Beautiful.  Sexy.  Passionate. Mischa embodied them all and more.

He poured himself a glass of cognac and swirled it around in the snifter.  The fragrance wafted up to him, but he didn’t enjoy the pleasant aroma as he usually did.  Something more captured his senses. 

He pictured her curves, those graceful long legs, those full breasts, and the proud tilt of her head.  Her long, strawberry blonde hair hung to her waist and caught the light as she moved and those eyes—he let out a groan. Perfection.  He’d never seen eyes the color of a perfect amethyst. 

Mischa Bonovich stirred him, made him remember the male side of the beast within him.  He curled his hands into fists.  Already he craved her and not the taste of her warm blood cascading over his tongue, but the feel of her body writhing beneath his.   

She hypnotized him, and the knowledge was heady.  Did the Fates have a hand in her arrival? The question would go unanswered for now. It didn’t matter. She was here, and he felt alive again.

How could a woman create such powerful emotions within a man who’d long ago given up the thought of having any type of real life? He sat down in a red velvet settee and took a sip of the cognac.  It glided over his tongue, its taste pure and powerful.  Just as the woman upstairs.

The images his mind created only served to taunt him until, with a low curse, he launched himself to his feet, tossing the cognac into the roaring flames inside the fireplace.

“Is she really the one?” The question bounced off the ceiling. “How can I be sure? Is it enough to trust my instincts?” He continued to demand answers, but silence was the only response.

Lowering his head, Rhad leaned one hand against the mantel, his eyes staring at the marble floor beneath his feet. “Shaman, did you send her? I need to know.”

The winds began to howl outside the window, and in an instant, Rhad had his answer, but he needed to know more-much more.

“Why now? It’s been so long. She thinks I know her sister. Do I know her?” He shook his head. “No. I don’t, but you do. Am I right?” Flames leapt higher in the in the fireplace, and with a slight chuckle, Rhad moved away.

“You always were a crafty old bastard.” His shoes clicked against the floor as he headed toward the foyer. “Maybe one day you’ll be able to explain to me why you continued to stay with me all of these years…and what took you so long to send Mischa to me.”

His hand stroking his white beard, the shaman looked down into the castle with a smile. “That is something you will figure out on your own, my young friend.”

The young woman standing next to him placed her hand on his arm. “Do you truly believe he’ll figure it out in time? We can’t let anything happen to Mischa. What if Rhad won’t go with her?” Pretty and slim, she looked so much like her mother. If his heart could beat, it would ache.

“You must have faith, Granddaughter. Mr. Valentine is quite a resourceful fellow.” He managed a grin though he didn’t feel it inside. “You just wait and see. All will be well in the end.” He guided her back from the edge of the cloudy realm, the place that would be their home forever

“As well as it can be,” she corrected him, her voice soft, hurting. “Nothing will change my death.”

Wanting to absorb some of her pain, he wrapped his arm around the woman’s slender waist. “No, but you are protecting your sister. What you do now will ensure Mischa lives for a long, long time. Rhad is one man I know who can save her life.”

“Hamrick won’t risk hurting her. She’s his last link to you. I suppose I should be thankful he got to me before he got to her.”

The shaman’s eyes closed. “Do not talk like that, little one. I only wish I could have warned you in some way, protected you, but this ethereal form will only allow so much interaction with the living.”

She reached up to touch his face, the warmth of her palm reassuring. At least in this world, they could still feel, love. “I don’t blame you. Hamrick is a desperate man, and desperate men always do irrational things.”

Though she said the words with so much conviction, the shaman read the truth between the lines. She hadn’t accepted her death, and he couldn’t blame her. He’d been old when he’d crossed the mortal realm, but she’d been far too young, a mere twenty-two. Bitterness was a part of the grieving process. All he could offer her now was comfort and the assurance that her sister would enjoy a long and fulfilling life…if things went according to plan.