Blood Price (6 page)

Chapter 6

The pain in Nikia’s head had eased somewhat when she awakened. It took a moment to realize the catalyst for propelling her from deep sleep was Atar shaking her arm. He wasn’t doing so roughly but there was a marked lack of tenderness in the motion too. She gazed up with heavy eyes and her heart acquired the same heaviness when she saw his closed expression. Whatever had happened between them earlier hadn’t dropped any of the barriers between them. In fact, he seemed more distant than ever.

She got to her feet, rubbing her eyes. “Where are we?”

“The plane has landed at Ruzyne. The next flight to Constanta is tomorrow morning, so I’ve booked us into a room at the St. George in the Old Town.” Atar removed their carryon bags from the compartment above the seat as he spoke in a crisp tone.

Her eyes followed the bulging muscles of his arms when he lifted the bags. She automatically accepted her bag when he held it out to her. She tore her gaze from his body and took a step around him, heading for the exit of the plane. They were the last two onboard.

She froze when he put his hand on her arm. Turning her head with what she hoped was cool poise, she asked, “What?”

“Don’t get so far ahead.” He pulled her against him, anchoring his arm around her waist.

Her insides melted at the contact and she licked her lips. Her chin tilted of its own accord, seeking out his mouth. As his head lowered to meet hers, she saw the resistance in his eyes. It bothered her but his lips on hers blotted out all thought. Nikia snuggled closer, threading her free hand through his long locks to anchor him against her. Boldly, she parted his lips and slipped her tongue inside. He tasted of peanuts and whiskey. The combination was pleasant, with a tangy aftertaste.

His pulse resounded through her head, piquing her hunger. She left his mouth to explore his cheek. He muttered something she couldn’t understand and seemed on the brink of drawing away. Nikia tightened her hold on his hair, pulling his head back slightly as her mouth drifted lower, with her tongue tasting his skin. He smelled all male and the flavor of his skin was as unique as his blood.

Thinking of his blood caused her stomach to contract and her mouth watered, remembering his sweet taste. Acting on instinct, her mouth went lower, settling over the steady thump of his carotid artery. She was marginally aware of the way he tensed but lust and hunger mingled to blind her to anything but the delicious blood flowing through his vein, just under her teeth. Her bloodteeth descended.

Suddenly, he pushed her away. If she hadn’t braced herself against a seat, she would have fallen. She blinked. “What happened?”

“Stay away from me.” He snarled the command in a raspy tone. “I knew you couldn’t be trusted. Whatever spell you’re weaving on me, it won’t work.”

She shook her head. “I’m not doing anything.”

He touched his neck. “You weren’t about to feast on me? Steal another bite or two—just enough to incapacitate me so you could slip away?” His expression darkened. “Or perhaps you were going to drain me dry so I couldn’t find you again?”

She brushed the hair off her face. “You’re so wrong.” Her eyes burned with tears but she refused to let them fall. “It was instinct. I’m sorry.” She looked away from him, determined not to reveal her hurt feelings. She also wanted to hide the knowledge of what his blood did to her. Otherwise, he might decide to keep her drugged and docile during the rest of the journey at the cost of a bit of his blood.

He snorted, but said nothing else. With an impatient gesture, Atar motioned her to move. Nikia clutched her case, standing erect, struggling to maintain an icy façade. His arm around her came as no surprise this time. Although her body’s response was no less immediate, she refused to acknowledge the surge of desire. She accompanied him down the Jetway without a flicker of emotion, though her mind was a mass of confusing feelings.

Ruzyne’s terminal was a crush of busy travelers fighting to get to their gates. Nikia drifted alongside Atar, letting him find a path through the passengers meeting with or parting from friends and family. As they passed a woman in her twenties, embracing an older woman who looked very much like her, Nikia experienced a pang of regret that she would never have that type of relationship with her mother. If she succeeded in banishing Illiana’s presence, there could be no relationship of any kind. Without a body to inhabit, her essence would disappear.

Flashes of the worst deeds of her mother’s life came to Nikia, lessening her regret for the opportunity they never had. Illiana was evil. Had she not chosen to start over with the possession of her daughter’s body at Nikia’s birth, she still wouldn’t have been the motherly type. Nikia had only ever been a means to an end and when Illiana realized she had incorrectly figured the time of conception to have Nikia be the acknowledged heir to the Protectorate, her daughter had failed to be useful in any capacity, except as a way for Illiana to escape the punishment she deserved.

So engrossed was she in introspection that Nikia was surprised to find they had arrived at the passport counter. Atar had released his hold on her but she knew he kept his senses attuned to her. Should she try to run, he would follow. She remained by his side as he handed over their documents, knowing now wasn’t the opportune time to flee. She spoke only once, to answer a question of the attendant and then returned to her silence.

Heavy thoughts weighed on her mind while she walked beside him through the terminal, heading for the exit. The gulf between them was insurmountable. She must accept that. He wouldn’t aid her in returning to Minsk and she couldn’t return to Corsova without trying to free herself from Illiana. Her decision to wait for Atar and go meekly without protest had been prompted by terror at losing control of Illiana. After her confrontation with her mother and having a chance to think, she was more determined than ever to seek out her grandmother’s people. If they couldn’t help her, she might be lost forever but she couldn’t give up without a fight.

The most immediate and difficult task facing her was to elude Atar again. He would be expecting her to try to flee and with his damnable ability to track her telepathically, he would find her easily. In fact, he knew right where she planned to go now, so he wouldn’t even need to hone in on her until arriving in Belarus.

With a frown, Nikia studied him as she preceded him through the glass doors, emerging onto the street, where FIX cars lined the curb. She was mulling over her options, discarding most, when Atar took her wrist, breaking her chain of thought. “What?”

“This.” With efficient movements, he clicked one side of the handcuffs around her wrist before attaching the other to his.

A breath caught in her throat. Had he read her thoughts by some means he had kept concealed until now?

“I can feel you humming with energy,” he commented with an apparent lack of interest as he tugged lightly on her wrist to get her moving. They approached a FIX car and he said, “I’m assuming you’re gearing up to run again. Don’t waste your time.” With that, he opened the car door and slid into the backseat.

She had no choice but to accompany him. The shackle on her wrist ensured that. With a disgruntled look in his direction, she settled against the seat. Closing her eyes in a ruse of sleep, she let her mind wander, hoping to hit on a way to escape her captor.

The hairs on her neck stood up and a tingling sensation moved down her spine. Cold dread swept over Nikia and she sensed danger. She tried to focus, searching for the source but ran into a block. Illiana was deliberately distracting her. She sensed the maniacal glee in her mother and opened her eyes. “Atar…” She trailed off at his bored look. What could she say? If she tried to explain her sense of unease, he would question why she couldn’t get a clear picture, with her vampiric abilities. Would he believe her normal mental powers were dulled by the constant struggle and wearying presence of Illiana? Of course not, since he didn’t believe Illiana was inside her, fighting for dominance.

He arched a brow but didn’t speak. Eventually, he looked away from her.

She let the silence settle. It was almost comforting, despite the tense set of her body as it reacted instinctively to a danger she couldn’t clarify. In the quiet, she could pretend Atar didn’t mistrust her. It could be the contentment of afterglow, as they lay in each other’s arms after making love.

“What brings you to Prague?” the driver asked in thickly accented English, breaking the silence as effectively as a gunshot. He had spent considerable time arranging each strand of his dark hair into a precise style before slicking it to his skull with some type of gel. He wore a white shirt and dark tie. Looking more like a businessperson, he presented an incongruous picture of a FIX car driver.

She jumped at his voice and her tension increased tenfold when she met his dark eyes in the mirror. His tone was friendly but the gaze directed at them was calculating. Panic cut through her and she hovered on the edge of reading the man’s thoughts.

No, not yet.

She flinched when Illiana’s voice echoed through her head. It alarmed her further but for a different reason. Previously, she hadn’t been able to directly communicate with her mother unless she was in a weakened state. After her rest on the flight, she should have been refreshed enough to hold Illiana at bay, despite her lack of blood consumption. Fear of her mother distracted Nikia from her awareness of the driver and she focused on fortifying her mind as Atar exchanged small talk with the man.

The drive was short and they stopped before a tall brick structure located near the Old Town Square. The Neoclassic style blended well with the surrounding older structures in Old Town. The pointed spires of the Church of Our Lady of Týn across the street drew Nikia’s gaze, making her long wistfully for the ability to fly, so she could perch on the cross positioned between the two towers before soaring away to Belarus.

Atar, obviously in no mood to sightsee, paid the driver and shoved her bag into her arms. “Come on.”

She shook her head at his surly tone and followed him to the tall double doors of the hotel. An old-fashioned wood burned sign hung above the opening, suspended by brass chains. It announced in Czech:
Sv. Jiøí
. She assumed it translated to St. George.

To her surprise, Atar undid the handcuffs before opening one of the wooden doors. She stood with a straight spine, attempting to scan the Square in what she hoped was a casual manner. People bustled around the Square in a parade of sightseeing and recreation. Could she run fast enough to plunge into one of the large tour groups? Her gaze settled on a small gathering of middle-aged women, all of large body frame and wearing scarlet jackets. Would they shield her long enough to dodge Atar?

A hard laugh escaped Atar, drawing her attention back to him. “If you’ve finished fantasizing about escaping, we can go in now.”

She tilted her chin and turned her head, refusing to look at him. With every ounce of regality she possessed, Nikia swept into the lobby, not waiting for Atar. Her anger carried her to the check-in counter before abandoning her as soon as the man behind the desk asked what name the reservation was in.

Atar stepped up beside her, seeing to the details. Nikia let her gaze wander around the opulent lobby, taking in the rich patina of the hardwood floor. Different shades of the aged wood formed a starburst pattern in the center of the lobby, before giving way to a red carpet that followed the curve of the ornate stairs up to the second floor.

She turned her head to look at the corner of the room and froze when a man standing nearby in a dark suit quickly shielded his face. He gave her the same chill as the driver, making Nikia shiver as the cold fear physically manifested itself. When she tuned into the sensation, it emanated from all around her. With deceptively casual movements, she turned her body to survey the entire lobby. While pretending to admire the swag decorating the floor-to-ceiling window, she scanned the room by moving only her eyes.

Three men in dark suits mulled around the large area. They weren’t near each other but they all had the same look—slick, polished, and ruthless, with cold eyes that watched her surreptitiously without looking up from their various tasks.

She knew to trust her instincts and they told her these men were dangerous. She turned to Atar, touched his shoulder and leaned against him, hoping she gave the appearance of pressing a kiss to his neck. “We can’t stay here,” she whispered near his ear.

He turned his head to look at her, wearing a frown. “Why? Do the decorative bars on the windows interfere with your escape?”

She ignored the comment, sensing it was a defense mechanism. Atar must have decided to withdraw from her for his own self-preservation. It hurt but she didn’t have time to address the issue right now. “We’re being followed.”

He laughed and returned his attention to the desk clerk, who passed him an ornate key ring with an electronic card hanging from it. “Thank you.” With a nod to the man, he cupped Nikia’s elbow and propelled her to the stairs. “I thought I made it clear that I’m tired of your games.”

They climbed the first step together. “It’s no game.” She jerked away from his hold and dropped back a step. “The men in suits are watching us. Look.”

He started to turn and she pressed her hand against his lower back. “Don’t make it obvious,” she hissed in a low tone. She didn’t miss him rolling his eyes as he turned his head to glance at the lobby. She held her breath, expecting vindication and perhaps even the order to run.