Deep Kiss of Winter (13 page)

She stiffened beneath his palm again. “You
did
get me to talk last night.”

“Why don't you rebel and get your kingdom back? Gather the Icere to follow you?”

“It's not that simple. Sigmund is very powerful.”

“There are none here to help you against him?” When she shook her head, he said, “I have a hard time believing that every last one of the Icere is united against you.”

“New Orleans isn't exactly a coldbed of Icere.”

“You're here.”

He thought he heard her mutter,
“Not for long.”

“Is Sigmund any relation to you?”

“Not by blood,” she said. “He was my mother's prince consort. I wasn't born until after his men had mortally wounded her.”

“Do you know how crazy that sounds?”

“Welcome to the Lore. Little makes sense. Rules are fluid. Just when you think you've got it all figured out, you hear about a vampire unaffected by the sun, a mute Siren, or a chaste nymph.”

“So there's no one here like you?” he asked.

“Are you trying to plan a coup for me, or attempting to find out if I have a boyfriend?”

He grated, “Do you?”

“Why would you care?”

“I'm curious. You don't strike me as the disloyal type, and you were just in my bed. Eagerly.”

“Hey, now.” She peered around and made a dampening motion with her hands. “Not so loud, vampire. Let's not expedite the death of Danii's respect in the Lore.”

“Earlier, you weren't too concerned about this, not when you were telling me that you wanted to see me again,” he said, then added for good measure, “And that I have kissable lips.”

“I said that before I concluded the risk-benefit ratio was one hundred percent risk and none-point-none percent benefit.” She cast him a glare. “And I
really
wouldn't keep reminding me of all you learned last night and this morning.”

“None-point-none?”

“Exactly. Unless threatening to drain me was your way of asking for more.”

He wanted to tell her that the threat had been groundless, that he'd never hurt her like that. But the way he'd been feeling at that critical moment . . . ? It'd be a lie.

“Look at your vexed expression! Don't worry, Casanova, I didn't exactly take your behavior as an invitation. You made it very clear how you felt.”

“I just didn't want to be blooded.”

“Most vampires long for it to happen to them,” she pointed out.

“Why? For the strength?”

“Sure. But also because immortality is lonely.” Another display of that shocking vulnerability in a warrioress.

“Daniela, who were you searching for earlier?”

“You wouldn't know her.”

Not a man. Relief? “And you're not going to tell me more about her.” When she shook her head, he asked, “What happens in a couple of days when the Icere return? Will you and your sisters attack them?”

“No.”

“Are you just going to wait until they take another shot at you? I thought the Valkyrie considered themselves the top of the Lore food chain. Have you never launched an assault, or sent assassins back to kill him?”

“There's something about their castle that repels my kind.” At his questioning look, she said, “I won't reveal more. Besides, we can't find the Icere kingdom.” She obviously hated to say
king
dom. “No one can, not even through scrying. You know, considering you washed your hands of me, you're awfully concerned about the Icere.”

“Yes, because no matter what happened afterward
with us, twenty-four hours ago I was plucking their arrows out of your body.”

When her hand flittered about her chest at the painful reminder, he gentled his tone. “What would have happened if you hadn't gotten cooled?”

She cast him a begrudging expression as if she supposed she owed him the answer to this. “Thermal shock. At some point, the rapid temperature change would basically make me shatter.”

“Shatter.”
His voice sounded astonished even to himself. “How's that possible?”

“If glass is heated evenly, it just gets hot. But when it's heated unevenly, it cracks. Well, I don't heat evenly.”

“All Icere are susceptible to this?”

“No. Like them, I have freezing skin. But because I'm part Valkyrie, my blood is a fraction warmer than theirs.”

He slowed. “If you're at risk like that, why would you ever be out here alone?”

B
ecause I don't fit in with my half sisters. Because, in lieu of true companionship, I'd rather be alone, so I can get lost in my fantasy world, dreaming about sex and snow. Maybe even sex in the snow . . . .

“The arrows are what made me so heated,” she finally said, relieved that they'd almost reached their destination. “Take away the poison, and I would have survived. I can usually handle myself just fine.”

“Usually? Have you gone into shock before?”

“No. Last night was the closest I've been.”

“Then how do you know what will happen?”

“I was warned.”
Danii, your face is red!
Svana had cried again and again.
You've been playing with your sisters too long. You know what your godparents said about getting too hot . . . .

“Warned? By your parents?”

“Murdoch, I appreciate your candor about your family.” An understatement. His tale had moved her in unexpected ways. “But I won't share it about mine.” When he opened his mouth to ask more, she said, “Besides, we're here.” With a negligent wave of her hand, she indicated their first stop, Jean Lafitte's.

Though on Bourbon, the tavern was situated at the opposite end from all the hustle and bustle, so it was more like a normal bar without the artificially inflated Bourbon Street buoyancy.

One of the Valkyrie's allies, a storm demon named Deshazior, hung out here whenever he was in town. Fitting, since he was a former pirate. Of course, he'd been hanging out in this building since the infamous Lafitte brothers had run a smithy in it.

Pausing outside the closest set of double doors, Danii told Murdoch, “You should wait here.”

“Why?”

“Because my contact and his crew will want to kill you, and also, I might have to flirt with him.”

The garrulous Deshazior had a known weakness for Valkyrie—and a lot of Valkyrie had known weaknesses for him.

Desh had even propositioned Danii, solemnly telling her in his briny accent, “I'd risk freezin' off my bollocks to claim yer maidenhead.”

“You think I'll be jealous?” Murdoch's tone was disbelieving. “I believe I can handle it.”

So arrogant, so dismissive.
Ego takes another hit. Round four, ding ding.

With that, he guided her inside. As they entered, cigarette smoke wafted around them. Nick Cave's “People Ain't No Good” crooned from the jukebox. Drunk, glum mortals stared into their drinks.

Murdoch muttered, “This is a human bar. I thought you mentioned a
demon
.”

“I know where Loreans loiter, okay?”

She swiftly spotted Desh. He was hard to miss, since he stood seven feet tall. And since he sported large, forward-pointing horns. “See that big guy with the horns—”

“He goes out like that?” Murdoch snapped under his breath. “With them uncovered for everyone to see?”

“Yes, whenever he likes. Humans think Deshazior and his crew are in costume. The demons draw straws to see who gets to wear that.” She pointed out a sulky-looking demon wearing a neon pink T-shirt
that read:
“Big Easy Movie Casting! We arrive in costume!”

Humans asked them about prosthetics in cosplay, autographs, and movie release dates—not about their blatant protrusions.

Desh turned then, spotting her. “Ah, if it ain't the fair Lady Daniela,” he called. He caught sight of Murdoch behind her and immediately tensed. “With a blightin' vampire. Ye'll be tellin' me why me and my boys won't be evisceratin' the leech.”

•   •   •

Murdoch watched as Daniela's friendly demeanor turned cold in a flash. “Because I'll turn your blood to slush if you do,” she said, raising her palm to her lips.

She was so small compared to the hulking demon, but Deshazior held up his hands in surrender.

“Now, now, beauty. No need to be freezin' an ole demon like me. It hurts.” When she dropped her hand, he added in a mutter, “Ladies goin' with vampires? City's gone to hell whilst I've been away.”

“I'm not
going with
him. We're in an unlikely alliance on a dangerous mission to help Lorekind. An alliance with an expy date of . . . oh, dawn.”

“This one's lookin' at ye like yer together,” the demon said. “All possessive-like.”

That noticeable?

“And how am I looking at him?” Daniela asked in an innocent tone.

“Like ye'd be well rid o' him,” Deshazior said with a chuckle. “So what can I do for ye, luv?”

“Have you seen Nïx?”

Who was that? And why was Daniela seeking her?

One of the demons with Deshazior said, “Nïx is out tonight?” He anxiously smoothed a palm over each of his horns and straightened his collar.

“I guess that answers that question,” Daniela said with a sigh. “I'm also looking for Ivo the Cruel.”

A flicker arose in Deshazior's eyes as he said, “Aside from the one loomin' over ye just now, I haven't seen any vamps.”

He's lying.

“That's a shame.” Daniela pouted, traipsing closer to him. “I thought I could count on you for information.” She reached up and ran the back of one claw along his right horn. At once, Deshazior's muscles tensed. The other demons gasped and groaned.

Murdoch didn't see why her behavior would elicit a response like that, but their eyes were spellbound by her stroking claw.

Deshazior had begun quaking. “Givin' me fits, Valkyrie!”

“A word alone,” Daniela purred. “Outside.”

With a defeated exhalation, the demon followed them out, mumbling about teasing Valkyries and “horn jobs.”

Once the three were out on the street, Deshazior glowered at Murdoch. Then, after an uneasy glance back at his crew inside, he muttered to Danii, “Ivo's
here in the city. I don't know where, but watch yerself. He's got some on his side that even I wouldn't tangle with.”

“How do you mean?” Murdoch said.

Deshazior ignored him. “And if ye've need of a partnership to save Lorekind, I'm yer demon.” He thumped his colossal chest. “No need to sully yerself with the likes of him.”

Murdoch eased his lips back from his fangs.

“I appreciate the offer,” Daniela said. “But I can make it a night. Will you leave word at the coven if you spot them?”

“Aye—” Suddenly the demon began disappearing, as if he were involuntarily tracing. “Damn it! A swimbo calls.”

“What the hell is a swimbo?” Murdoch asked; they
both
ignored him.

The demon gazed down at Daniela as he began to fade. “Remember, ice maiden,” he murmured intently, “my other offer still stands as well.”

•   •   •

The vampire was in front of Desh in an instant. “Whatever you offered, she's not interested.” But the demon was already gone.

Murdoch turned to her. “What was that?”

“I told you I might have to flirt to get some information. Now will you admit you're jealous, vampire?”

He surprised her by answering, “Yes.” Just when she felt a flare of pleasure, he doused it by adding, “Though I'll be damned if I know why.”

“You truly just said that?” She glared at the sky, imploring it for patience before facing him again. “Maybe because I'm cute and intelligent and I was in your bed last night, and because—oh, I don't know—I'm your Bride.”

“What was the demon's offer?”

“That's between me and him.”

“Is he your type, then? Really? You like behorned demons who growl
yar!
after every bloody sentence? I thought you'd be more discerning.”

“And I thought you were supposed to be seductive and charming. You're just insulting, gruff, and brooding.”

“With
you
.” He took a step closer, frustration in his expression.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“I don't know. I've never been jealous before. And I've never been clumsy with words around women.” At that moment, a pair of name-tagged conventioneers ogled her, earning a killing look from Murdoch. When they hurried on, he said, “This is
not
my typical behavior.” He exhaled. “And I can't control it.”

He looked defeated, like he couldn't reason out this situation and might just stop trying to. “Valkyrie, I've never been more at odds with myself in my entire existence.”

She almost felt sorry for him, and gentled her tone. “Maybe I'm getting under your skin.”

He muttered, “Like a thorn.”

Danii was just contrary enough to be pleased by this. “Every thorn has its rose, vampire.”

With that, the Valkyrie sauntered back up Bourbon, drawing slack-jawed stares from more men than he could bare his fangs at.

Murdoch followed, dimly aware that this might be the longest conversation he'd ever had with a woman.

The steady stream of them in his mortal life meant that he'd never had to spend a lot of time
talking
to any single female. In fact, he'd long felt as if he spoke two languages: one he used with men and the other with women.

The former was direct, used to convey information. The latter was laden with innuendo and flirtation, and consisted of little more than compliments.