Mistwalker (41 page)

She sighed and melted into him, her arms twined around his neck, feet dangling from the floor.

“Time for a much needed drink, I think.
I will tell Lissanne,” Radu said from somewhere in the background. “Let us leave the children alone. Tiring work this. Killing psychic vampires and saving your grandson’s life.”

“You love it, and you’ll need more than one,” Witch chided. “I hate drinking alone. You got anything other than alcoholic blood in that liquor cabinet of yours?”

“Like you cannot just conjure anything you want.”

Their laughter and footsteps retreated, and the door snicked shut behind them.

Juliun raised his head and smiled down at her. “I did not believe you would ever come to care for me the way I do for you.” He set her on her feet, running his hands up her arms and sliding them around the base of her skull, cupping her head beneath the fall of her hair.

His warm, hard chest pressed against her, his racing heartbeat a frantic throb against her breasts. “I have dreamed about you for centuries. I knew who you were the moment I saw you clearly, but how could I tell you that you were my bride?” A brief flare of agony flashed in his eyes, and his jaw clenched. “You would run. I turned you into a vampire, and your mother was taken by vampires. You have the mist. I believed I would never find you again.” He gently razed his teeth on the soft skin under her ear. “I dreamed of you constantly, the way someone dreams of their greatest moment, the best time of their life, and I meant what I said. I have lived long enough to know nothing here means anything without you.”

She swallowed a lump in her throat. Gooseflesh and tingles raced over her skin, and she laid her head over his heartbeat. Total serenity and happiness washed over her. She had the feeling her life was going to turn supernova.

“I can’t wait for you to show me, since I helped snatch you back from the jaws of death and all that.”

He chuckled, a sexy, low rumble that made her weak at the knees. She was suddenly faded and appeared in his apartment, his hands secure on her shoulders as though he were afraid she might balk.

“I need to tell you—”

The sound of metal shutters sliding on their rails filled the room, cutting off his words, and a light beeping reverberated in the air.

He cursed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Daylight is coming. We will continue this conversation tomorrow.”

She looked up at him in alarm. “Is that the…? It’s…oh gosh!” She stifled a yawn wide enough to crack her jaw.

He smiled and picked her up, setting her gently on the cool black silk sheets of his bed. Excitement was a wild beast inside of her, multiplying every sensation by a thousand.

He leaned down and lay beside her, drawing her body into his strong arms so her head rested beneath his chin.

“This is too delicious.” She snuggled into the wonderful scent of him and ran her tongue lazily over the fabric atop one of his nipples and used a fang to gently raze the nub.

“Torturer.” He sighed with pleasure to counteract the statement and lifted a long, muscled leg and wrapped it around both of hers, effectively pinning her against him. “Tomorrow we talk, my love. I too, need sleep, but it does not matter,” he murmured, his voice dark. “
You are here
. My dreams have come true.” His breathing steadied, and he grew steadily colder.

She smiled contentedly, and the oblivion of sleep claimed them both.

Chapter Forty-Four

Where the hell was she?

Juliun clenched his teeth so tightly his jaw hurt. His heart raced, gaze roaming over the attendees while forcing a mask of composure. The richest and deadliest vampires in the world waltzed to Shubert’s 9th Symphony at the annual vampire ball held in Vienna. They whispered courtly intrigue and smiled at the sharp witticisms of their wealthy escorts.

The scent of blood, expensive perfume and night permeated the air. The music built to a crescendo, and yet he wanted nothing but escape.

Anxiety drummed at his temples. The mist ebbed and flowed, merging into the wall, shifting the archway into black fog. He did not rein it in.
Couldn’t. The plantar became mist; the flowers, the lights and the after burn distracted him.

What would Simone think if he hunted her down right now—swept her off her feet and carried her back to Ravenkeep? Stripped her naked. Made love to her until they both cried with ecstasy. He imagined kissing, tasting every part of her supple body.

His hands shook, and his fangs descended. The room blurred.

If he did and she wasn’t ready in her mind, then he would lose her trust forever. He remembered the gentle look in her eyes when she’d awoken in his bed the night after saving him, but the complications of destroying Dravego’s regime and saving her mother had taken up all their time during the last two nights. They hadn’t had a proper chance to talk about their burgeoning relationship.

He would be patient, but it was a series of mini deaths while waiting. Their bond went far beyond the constraints of a human lifetime. He would give her time to get used to the idea and let her decide by her own free will, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t stack the odds in his favour.

The sumptuous dinner had been a myriad of different bloods, no doubt delicious, but they’d all tasted like ash, bitter and foul. He rubbed at his eyes, remembering her sweet smile and the faint waft of alluring perfume as she promised to be on time.

Her sweet scent played over him again, like the wash of a memory from which he couldn’t surface. A waking dream of delight.

She’d given him that ‘
don’t worry’
scowl and flat-out refused the couture ball gown he’d offered. She had money and means to buy her own things, she’d said. He respected that. He only wished she understood that everything he owned was hers anyway. Even his heart.

And she still wasn’t here.

The mist swarmed wider, eating into a glorious pillar or two and one of the many ornate mirrors. His mother and grandfather forced him to move from the tables to the dancing; probably realising he neared breaking point.

His head ached. His chest ached. Only half of him was in the room while he waited for her. He should’ve had more drinks to stave off the hunger, but a longing more powerful than bloodlust consumed him now.

His mother floated over, graceful as ever, her head a mass of heavy blonde coils. He retracted the mist, and she swept into place beside him.

“The flowers and walls are disappearing,” she teased, a glint shining in her brown eyes. “The guests were quite shocked. They’ve never seen you lose control.”

He shifted uncomfortably in his tuxedo. “Something must have happened to her. I should leave now.”

“Give it five more minutes,” his mother advised.

And then the voices stopped. The orchestra faded to a stumbling jumble, and silence. The crowd turned as one to the doorway.

A glimpse of red fabric peeked between the attendees.

He straightened, craned his neck and picked out the scent of Simone’s blood. He closed his eyes, his heart so light it might have floated away. The crowd parted. Some obviously didn’t know the newcomer, but they sensed something.

Murmurs and unguarded thoughts rose up in the ballroom. She was their mystery guest. The same sects from the clans had been coming for centuries and nothing deviated from that list. The Council and other elders of species would have spread the word around to the most powerful families, warning them, but many would find out tonight the dangerous gift of the mist had been transferred for the first time since the Great War.

Simone broke through the crowd of staring faces, sheathed in a fire-engine red dress that lovingly hugged every curve of her body. She stalked with her casual lithe grace, her long, gleaming sunset red hair rippling over her arms. A long slit in the gown ended at mid-thigh.

His heart stopped dead in his chest, and there it was, on the floor. He lifted his gaze and gulped, following the slit, up, up, to her creamy neck and dreamed about ripping the dress right up to her throat. He swore to do that tonight.

Her long, supple leg flashed, hid, then flashed again in an endless seduction. The bust gripped her breasts like a pair of loving hands. Gold stilettos shimmered on her feet. The lights in her green eyes danced, and she stared at the vampires around her, a charming smile on her lips. With blood-red lipstick and her natural, flashing green eyes, she was truly the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“See, nothing to worry about,” his mother said, impishly. “But it looks like the Wentworth boys are going to give you a run for your money.”

The wealthy vampire brothers moved from the wall, deadly seduction written on their faces at the prospect of another female vampire in their midst. No doubt, they’d heard about her since Dravego’s death and were waiting in the wings to meet her. They skirted a waiter, but that waiter turned, caught sight of Simone, gawped, and went down for the count with two full trays of blood.

Juliun faded, but Simone already reappeared on the other side of the waiter with a tray held in each hand and not one drop of blood spilled.

Her fast reflexes—one of the many things he loved about her.

A collective gasp rose up from the crowd, and their faces
slackened. Heads turned in stupefied unison to Juliun, then the king. Accusation and disbelief warred in their expressions.

Juliun stared back with intentional disregard; like he cared what they thought, and the mist pulsed farther from his body in dire warning. If any of them spoke out about her…

“Are you okay?” Simone asked the waiter. “That’s a lot of blood to carry around. Where do you want it?”

A waitress hustled over to the melee, apologising profusely for the inconvenience and grabbed both trays. After the servants bowed, they melted away into the background.

Whispers and thoughts rose in volume.

Simone’s eyes flashed, darkening from their usual sunlit-streaked green, and her full, rosy lips curved with pure mischief.

Those lips would drive him crazy. Maybe they already had. He’d been dreaming of kissing her in the spirit world and in the clinic every second of the night. A million things went haywire inside of him, yet he was totally focused on one. Her. Him. Together. In bed.

That cute, dangerous slope of her nose, the fearless thrust of her chin, the amused looks she flicked to the crowd. She swivelled at the sound of breaking glass and caught sight of him.

He blinked, staring down at his open hand and at the red mess over his palm. Glass and blood spattered his shoes. He looked back up at her.

Her stare locked onto his. He couldn’t move.

Lost in that whirlpool again, their minds connected, and a primal joy cried within his heart.
*Will you dance with me?*

Chapter
Forty-Five

Simone could imagine Juliun’s breath wafting across her skin as he uttered the invitation. The last time she’d seen him for more than five minutes, he’d kissed her senseless, and all that she’d wanted to do was retreat to Ravenkeep for a little late night delight.

Okay, maybe a lot.

Between caring for her mother, Tammy and the other prisoners held in Dravego’s lair, Simone hadn’t much free time up her sleeve. That was all about to change.

Juliun frowned. *
Do you know the steps?*

Her gaze ran over his superb figure in the black tuxedo. His hands clenched, jaw granite hard, neck muscles strained. He towered over everyone else.

*Simone?*

*
Yes,*
she answered with a smile. *
I would love to dance with you.*

Royal vampire blood beat in her veins, controlling her DNA, and she drifted with slow, smooth steps toward him. Hunger rolled and coiled in her stomach. She’d spent so long lingering over her mother and Tammy at the clinic that it had taken Simone forever to find a dress in her price range in London.

Juliun drew her into the warm embrace of his arms, and she felt in the right place, with the right person, and her hunger eased, swamped by the stronger sensation of belonging.

His arms were strong, and slowly with his left foot, he led her across the floor in an elegant waltz.

He was the masterful aristocrat here, the beautiful and simplistic dance emphasizing his loose limbed grace. He stepped forward and slowed down, then carefully twisted her, his arm secure on her back as he dipped her toward the floor. Her hair rippled out from her head, and he stared down into her eyes, running his fingers through her hair, down her neck, to her waist.

He pulled her up and kissed her neck, moving his firm, warm lips slowly up to her earlobe for a quick nibble. Her breasts pushed against his chest.

She breathed in heavily, shivering. “Juliun.”

The orchestra ended the song, and he stepped back, offering his hand. “Thirsty?”

Her thudding heart still played the music within her. She constantly thirsted for him and could have danced forever, but she took a deep breath and smiled. “Yes, please. I’m sorry I’m late.”