Night Huntress 06 - Eternal Kiss of Darkness (3 page)

“I might remember what happened this morning, but you can bet I won’t tell anyone,” Kira said quietly. “You don’t have to wait for anything to clear out of my system. I’ll go home and won’t say a word about you, that warehouse, or anything else that isn’t completely normal.”

He stared at her, darkness replacing the green in his gaze. Then, very slowly, he shook his head.

“At this moment, you may believe that, but I cannot take the risk that you will change your mind later.”

The sound of the door shutting was the only indicator that he’d moved. Kira ran to it, but though the knob turned, and she shoved against it, she couldn’t open the door. Something very heavy must be on the other side of it.

How was she supposed to get away from him when he moved so impossibly
fast
? Once again, the word “vampire” jumped into her mind. With all the other traits she’d seen, it seemed to be the frontrunner for what her kidnapper was. Then again, weren’t vampires supposed to catch fire in the sunlight? He hadn’t. The sun had been out when he’d carried her from the warehouse, yet her kidnapper hadn’t suffered any ill effects. Plus, she had on a cross necklace, but that hadn’t stopped him from carting her over half of Chicago’s rooftops this morning, either. That shot a big hole in her “vampire” theory.

Some part of Kira couldn’t believe she was contemplating what sort of supernatural creature he could be. None of those things were supposed to exist, let alone
kidnap
her! Disbelief battled with the memory of everything she’d seen. Even if she wanted to believe that her long night without sleep had made her see things that weren’t real, her blood-smeared, perfectly healed stomach was a reminder that her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her. She hadn’t imagined the agony of her flesh being ripped open, either. Or the coldness that had seeped through every pore, the sense of fading away… and then the abrupt yank back to life just in time to see her dark-haired captor ripping the heads off several people when his hands hadn’t even been near them.

It didn’t matter what he was, Kira decided. The most important thing was getting away from him. She began to prowl around the bedroom, ignoring its lavish furnishings. No phone that she could see. An attached bathroom loaded with all the amenities, none of them useful for escape purposes. No computer. She went over to the window and stared out in frustration. Of course she’d be a few stories up without a balcony or trellis. She supposed she should be grateful that there didn’t appear to be a moat around the property, or wolves baying around the perimeter. Was she still in Chicago? Or, when she’d been unconscious, had he managed to take her much farther away?

Kira sank onto the bed, fingering the fabric of the comforter. Frank probably wouldn’t even notice she was missing until later tonight. Her boss knew she’d pulled an all-night stakeout; he’d expect her to sleep late today. Tina also wouldn’t attempt to call her until later, and if Kira didn’t answer, her sister would just assume she was working. Her only hope was that her kidnapper had left her backpack at the warehouse. The police would
definitely
investigate her whereabouts if they found her belongings at the scene of a grisly multiple homicide. Had he taken it with him when he grabbed her? She couldn’t remember. Her backpack wasn’t in this bedroom, that was all she knew.

Kira fisted the comforter, wanting to shred it out of frustration, but with its thick smoothness, it was probably a thousand-thread count and thus stronger than rope. All she’d do if she tore at it was break several fingernails.

All at once, Kira began to smile.
Improvisation is a necessary part of the job,
Frank had told her when training her to work as a P.I. He’d been right about that.

Kira went into the bathroom, dragging the comforter behind her.

M
encheres closed his eyes as he swallowed. Warm flesh pressed to his mouth, a sweet pulse vibrating underneath his lips. A haze of pleasurable thoughts blanketed his mind as he lightly dug his fangs in again, but they weren’t his thoughts. They belonged to Selene, the human he fed from.

Yes
,
bite me again. Deeper. Ah
,
so good
,
don’t stop…

Selene shuddered with an ecstasy Mencheres hadn’t felt in centuries. He drew back after his next swallow, closing the punctures from his fangs with a drop of his blood while the bliss he’d so briefly felt turned to ashes.

Selene’s passion was only due to the skillful way he’d bitten her, combined with the mild euphoria-inducing venom all vampires had in their fangs. He’d be able to give her mind-shattering orgasms with his bite, if he wished to, but any vampire could rouse the same sensations in her. If there was one thing Mencheres’s long years had taught him, it was that being an instrument of pleasure wasn’t the same as being truly desired.

Once he would have scoffed at that. When he was a human ruler in Egypt, it was considered an honor to share his bed, and Mencheres had welcomed many there. When he became a vampire, men and women flocked to him in the hopes that he’d transform them into vampires. Later, his power drew those looking for protection. Over time, being his lover was a status symbol among vampires. Even if Mencheres lived among humans, hiding what he was, his wealth seduced people to his side. After living that way for twenty-five hundred years, even the most sensual enjoyments began to feel hollow. Mencheres wanted more.

He thought he’d found it in Patra, the young Egyptian queen he married two thousand years ago, but that had ended in disaster. Back then, he’d been naïve enough to believe he could sate Patra’s need for power by changing her into a vampire, sharing his vast wealth, and teaching her the deepest, most forbidden secrets of his race, but it hadn’t been enough. Nothing he’d done had been enough, and a long-ago sin resulted in Patra nearly destroying everyone Mencheres cared about until she’d finally been killed last year. As depressing as the thought was, everyone in his life had been drawn to him for an ulterior motive, even those he trusted. Even those he loved.

Oddly enough, the only exception was the human locked upstairs in the bedroom. Kira had tried to save him, acting without the influence of his heritage, status, power, wealth, or charisma. She’d
risked her life
without expecting a single thing in return. No one had done such a thing for him. Ever.

As a result of Kira’s baffling, selfless act, combined with his inability to control her mind
or
hear her thoughts, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. Even as the day slipped into evening and he sent another vampire to deliver food and refreshment to her room, Mencheres couldn’t banish her from his thoughts.

Kira
. In Greek, her name meant “lady”. In Celtic, it meant “dark”. Which fit her better? Her appearance fit both meanings of her name—her face was delicate and beautiful, except for that strong jaw that warned of stubbornness. Kira’s eyes were pale green, but her brows were dark, matching the deep hue of her hair before it lightened to gold at the tips. Her hair was short for Mencheres’s tastes, falling to just above her shoulders, but it was so lush, thick, and curly, it practically invited him to twine it around his fingers.

Kira’s body was another contrast of femininity and strength. She was slender to the point of delicacy, but she held herself with a fighter’s stance, and her wide shoulders only served to better highlight her full breasts. She’d squared those lovely broad shoulders
and
that stubborn jaw when she’d snarled at him to stay away from her sister. Even though Kira knew he wasn’t human, she hadn’t hesitated to challenge him over the perceived threat to her family.
Dark lady
,
indeed.

“Yes, please!”

The cry yanked Mencheres out of his musings. Gods, he’d been caressing Selene and unconsciously sending out strands of his power to stroke and stimulate her nerve endings. How could he have gotten so lost in his thoughts of Kira that he’d
forgotten
he still held Selene in his arms?

Mencheres pulled back his power and set Selene away from him.

“I’ve taken all I need,” he told her.

Her eyes opened as she pressed against him. “Let me give you more than blood,” she offered in a husky voice.

“No,” Mencheres replied automatically.

As soon as he uttered the words, he reminded himself again that he didn’t need to refuse. His wife was dead, so there was no more death sentence on any woman he took to his bed. If he wanted Selene, he could have her.

But it was ironic; after burning with unspent lust for longer than many civilizations existed, now, when he had a chance to indulge, he had no desire to. Selene was beautiful, willing, yet he didn’t want her.

Kira’s face flickered in his mind, but Mencheres wiped her image away before he allowed himself to dwell on it.

“No,” he repeated to Selene in a tone that brooked no argument.

She left after one last lingering look that he pretended not to notice. Selene, like all the others, didn’t only want him. She also wanted the power, security, and supernatural pleasure he could give, but somehow during Mencheres’s extended, forced celibacy, that was no longer an acceptable trade.

Selene had only been gone a few minutes before Gorgon, the only vampire Mencheres brought with him to this house, came into the library.

“Sire,” Gorgon said. “We have a situation with the human you brought home this morning.”

Mencheres rose, already striding up the stairs to Kira’s room, when Gorgon’s voice stopped him.

“Ah, sire? You might want to go outside instead.”

K
ira dangled out the window on her makeshift rope, reminding herself with gritted teeth not to look down. It had taken hours to tie the bedspread, sheets, drapes, and shower curtain together until it was long enough to reach to the bottom of the house. Then she secured it around two corners of the bed, waiting tensely until after dark so she’d have less chance of being seen. It took another half hour of mental pep talking before she’d worked up the courage to heave herself over the window ledge, and she’d had a moment of sheer panic when the rope first stretched under her weight.

But the rope, the bed anchor, and her biceps had held. Slowly, Kira edged down, tangling the rope between her legs to slow her descent.
You’re doing fine
, Kira told herself as she carefully began to climb down the side of the house. With luck, she’d be safely on the bottom in just a few minutes. If she had even more luck, it wouldn’t take her long to find help. She doubted she was still in Chicago, judging from the lack of almost any houses or buildings within eyesight, but she had seen what looked like another home past the line of trees to the north. That’s where she’d try first—assuming the rope or the bed didn’t all of a sudden break.

When she reached the ledge below her window, Kira blew out a tight sigh of relief. One story completed, two more to go. So far, no one had sounded the alarm. Pretending to be a compliant captive had worked, it seemed. She’d even pretended to eat the food and drink the soda the blond-haired man with the scar running down his cheek had brought her, but in reality, she’d flushed them down the toilet. No way was she risking being drugged by touching that stuff. She’d swallowed some water from the shower when she cleaned off. That was more than enough to keep her hydrated, and she doubted they were clever enough to have drugged
that
.

Kira kept easing herself down the rope, amazed that her arms didn’t feel shaky. She’d lost a lot of blood this morning, but for some reason, her arms were steady, handling her weight with ease. That was unusual enough to concern Kira, but she decided to worry about it later. Like, when she was far away from this house and at the nearest police station.

She made it down another story, holding her breath as her rope brought her dangling directly in front of a window. The light inside glowed against the glass, making the interior clearly discernible to her. Kira prayed the darkness outside would make her almost invisible by contrast. She lightly kicked off to position herself away from the center of the window, and lowered herself a little faster. Should she risk looking down to check how much farther it was? No, Kira decided. She’d done well to get this far, considering her fear of heights. No need to ruin that by looking down now.

When Kira finally felt solid earth underneath her feet instead of more emptiness and rope, she almost whooped in relief. She stuffed her glee back, though, pulling the rope to the left of the windows and securing it by tucking the end under a potted plant. With luck, no one would find it until morning, and she’d be long gone by then.

Kira began to run as fast as she could in the direction where she thought she’d glimpsed the other house from her bedroom window. It was dark as pitch outside, but she was pretty sure she was headed in the right direction. Her heart thumped with joy and exhilaration. She was free!

She made it twenty yards before she ran into a wall.

M
encheres had watched Kira climb down the house with a mixture of wonder and amusement. She certainly was a tenacious female, stringing together rope made from various materials in the bedroom—and were those
shower curtain
loops she’d used as anchor points for her knots?

“Want me to get her?” Gorgon asked, his voice too low for Kira to hear him.

“No,” Mencheres replied. He was rather curious to see if she’d make it all the way to the bottom. If the rope broke or she lost her grip, he could easily catch her. But in the meantime, watching Kira maneuver down the side of the house was more entertaining than anything he’d done in the past several months.