Zen and the Art of Vampires (14 page)

Cheered by that thought, I sat back and tried to think positively.

The sight of a police car slowly patrolling the streets of the town as we approached ended that happy mood. Wary of being caught in a police cordon, I got out at the first stop, taking a good twenty minutes to carefully make my way through as many backstreets and alleys as I could find, a parade of ghosts trailing after me.

“Where are we going?” one of the ghosts, a petulant-looking teenage girl, asked in a grating, whiny voice. “Are we going to have to walk all the way to Ostri?”

An older woman shushed her with an anxious glance my way. “Do not speak so to the reaper. She will show us the way.”

“So we hope,” I muttered. The sun was low in the sky, sending long, inky shadows from the buildings, making the alleyways particularly dim.

I kept an eye peeled for any tour members who might suddenly spot me and set up a hue and cry, but the streets were bare of lonely American tourists.

“And a good thing, too,” I said as I cut behind a row of buildings to avoid a busy intersection. “All we need now is to run into someone I kno—
oof
!”

A dark shape loomed up out of nowhere, as hard as brick, and a million times scarier.

Teal blue eyes glowed at me from the depths of the darkness.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, too annoyed at having been dumped without a ride to be frightened of Kristoff. Behind me, the ghosts gathered. Ulfur's horse whinnied.

“Who's he?” the elderly male ghost asked.

“I don't know. I think she knows him, though,” Ulfur answered.

“I do, not that it's here nor there,” I answered.

Kristoff's eyebrows rose.

“Sorry. Talking to my ghosts.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Ghosts, plural?”

“Yes. Thirteen of them. Fourteen if you count the horse.”

Kristoff was silent for the count of ten. “Where's Alec?”

I put my hands on my hips, more than a little peeved. “Do you seriously think I'd be skulking around back alleys with a herd of ghosts if he was with me?”

“He said he was going to find you. He hasn't?”

“No.” I glared at Kristoff as he emerged from the shadows, taking care to avoid the dim patch of sunlight that filtered down through the buildings. I hesitated, feeling unsure of what my emotions were with regard to Alec. I had a whole lot of questions to ask him, starting with Anniki and working down to why he had skipped out, leaving me alone without a word. “You spoke to him, then? Did he say anything about Anniki?”

“Oh! It's a Dark One!” Ulfur said behind me. There was a murmur of agreement.

“He's ever so handsome. He can bite me any day,” the whiny girl said. I shot her a look. She smirked at me.

“What is there to say?” Kristoff answered, his scowl truly world-class. “I suppose I will have to take you to him.”

“You don't have to sound so disgusted,” I snapped, my pride stung yet again by the fact that he obviously disliked me intensely. “It's not like I have cooties or anything! And just for the record, I don't like you very much, either. You're not at all what a vampire should be like.”

That took him aback for a few seconds. “And just what do you think a Dark One should be like?”

“Sexy! Like Angel and those guys in the vampire movies. Well, except the bun-head version, but that wasn't meant to be sexy.”

“You don't think I'm attractive?” he asked, an odd expression flickering across his face.

“I do!” the teen ghost said.

I ignored her and made a big show of examining Kristoff from head to foot. If I thought he had been eye candy before, he definitely improved with nearness. His hair was sort of a chestnut reddish brown, with curls that looked as soft as satin. His face was hard, as I've noted, but it was a hard beauty, with a cleft chin that somehow kept drawing my eye. Like Alec, he was several inches taller than me, but where Alec was bulky with heavy muscles, Kristoff possessed a leaner frame that reminded me somehow of a big cat, like a lion or panther. I ignored the breadth of his chest, telling myself that Alec's was just as broad. His legs were longer, however, and filled out his faded jeans in a manner that left me admiring his obviously muscled thighs. I had a sudden urge to go peek at his behind, but quickly squelched that. The ghosts, I had a feeling, would never let me hear the end of it.

“Attractive?” I gave a little nonchalant laugh that sounded awfully strained. “No, not at all. Not in the least. That dead rat over there exudes more sexual attraction than you do.”

“Is she blind?” I heard the girl ask someone else. “Or just stupid?”

“Hush, child, and let the reaper alone,” the older woman answered.

“That's right, miss, you let him have it,” another ghostly woman spoke up. “Don't do to let your man think as he can speak to you like that.”

“He's not my—” I stopped before I said anything more.

Kristoff just stood there and looked at me with those uncanny eyes, making me squirm a little.

“Oh, all right, I'm lying like hell. Yes, you're very attractive, the kind of sexy that makes women want to rip off their underwear and throw themselves on you. Happy now?”

He didn't even blink, just stared at me for a second or two. “You mean as you did last night in the park?”

My cheeks burned at the memory. I glanced behind me. The ghosts were all gathered together in a half circle, watching me with interest. Even the horse seemed to be waiting to see what I'd say next. “That was a different situation entirely. And I had my undies on, thank you! Regardless of your god-amongst-men status, I don't like you. You have insulted me, deliberately intimidated me, and tried to make me feel guilty about something that is not my fault.”

His eyes darkened. I swear to god, the teal color darkened a couple of shades. I watched in fascination as the black spikes from the pupils seemed to elongate and fill the iris. “When have I insulted you?”

The words snapped me back from a reverie about how bad men so often had such pretty eyes. “What? Oh. When
haven't
you insulted me? You wanted to kill me last night.”

“If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead,” he said in an even tone. That scared me more than anything else.

“Oooh,” one of the ghosts said as there was a general intake of breath.

“Yes, well . . . that aside, you told me you'd rather marry a viper than me,” I told Kristoff, incensed enough that I didn't care if I was arguing in front of an audience or not.

His lips tightened. “You didn't want to marry me, either.”

“They're married?” the teen asked in a sulky voice. “That just isn't right.”

“No, of course I didn't want to marry you, and still don't. I don't know you, let alone have those sorts of emotions for you that usually end up in a marriage. And there's the little fact that you're an evil vampire, and I'm evidently one of the good guys, so this whole Romeo-and-Juliet scenario isn't going to work.”

He took a couple of steps closer to me, his glare menacing. “If you think I harbor romantic illusions about a mere legal convenience, I urge you to rethink. I am not Romeo.”

The ghosts forgotten in my ire, I took a step toward him, the toes of my shoes just a hairsbreadth from his as I leveled him a look that told him I wasn't the fool he took me for. “With the implication, I suppose, that I'm no Juliet? Well, thank you, you don't need to point that out any more than you do the fact that you don't like that Alec and I spent the night together.”

A bluish fire flared to life in his eyes as he leaned in toward me. “Don't like it? Are you implying I'm jealous?”

“Of course not,” I said, gathering up my tattered shreds of dignity. “I'm no stranger to the mirror, and you've made it quite clear you not only think I'm physically repulsive, but that Alec is crazy for not having the same taste as you do.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, his eyes narrowing. “I did not say you were repulsive, and I don't give a damn who Alec sleeps with. His personal life is no business of mine.”

“Who's Alec?” I heard whispered behind me.

“Shhh! I think they're just getting to the good part.”

“You didn't actually say the word ‘repulsive,' no, but you implied that just looking at me sickens you,” I said, suddenly feeling like crying. Why did I care that he thought I was a frumpy, overweight hussy? “You can't deny that the only reason you kissed me is because I made you.”

“Of course I deny it.” He leaned even closer until I could feel his breath. “No one can make me do anything against my will. No one.”

I ignored the fact that I couldn't seem to get enough breath into my lungs and gave him a cool look. “Oh, really? So you
did
want to marry me?”

“I said I was willing to do whatever it took to keep you from gaining the full powers of a Zorya, and I meant it,” he answered, his voice low and gritty.

The air seemed to heat up several degrees in the alleyway. “That would imply that you did want to kiss me,” I said, having to clear my throat a couple of times before I could speak.

His gaze dropped to my mouth, and I was suddenly aware of a most appalling fact—I wanted him to kiss me. Right then, right there, in front of the ghosts and anyone else who wandered by. I wanted to feel his mouth on mine, and taste him again, and rub myself against him in a wholly foreign manner. But worst of all, I wanted him to force me into a kiss so that I could pretend to myself that I didn't want it at all.

Shame and disgust tumbled around with confusion and indecision inside me. How could I sleep with one man, and the next day be wanting to kiss his evil friend? What was wrong with me?

“I've never been adverse to kissing mortals,” Kristoff said in his deep, unusually sexy voice. I shivered a little despite the sudden heat that was making me very aware of the clothing binding my skin. “And I don't find you repulsive.”

“Oh,” I said, my brain giving up any attempt at sanity and settling down to providing my mouth with really insipid things to say. “Good. You're not repulsive, either.”

I swear his eyes darkened then. They went from teal blue to a dark navy, the black flares from his pupils seeping outward. I took a deep breath at his nearness, wondering why I could feel air going into my lungs, but still felt light-headed and breathless. My breasts rubbed against the soft leather of his jacket, the sensation making me shiver again.

“I'm glad you think so.” His lips brushed mine, just the lightest of touches, more a little bump than a kiss, but with it, I finally came to my senses.

“I'm not a harlot,” I yelled, grabbing two fistfuls of his jacket and shaking them. “I do not sleep with a man one day, and kiss the living daylights out of his friend the next, no matter how much I want to. I'm not that sort of girl! You're bad. You're evil. You're a vampire, dammit! But you're no Angel, and I'm no Buffy, and you can just stop making me confused about everything!”

A puzzled look was followed by a quick spike of anger in his eyes, and then he was kissing me, really kissing me, with his lips and tongue and his hands in my hair, and I lost it all again. His tongue twined around mine in an erotic, sinuous dance that made me aware of all sorts of suddenly erogenous spots on my body. I rubbed my breasts into him, allowing him to taste me, savoring the sensation of his body so hard and hot and utterly masculine.

It's a good thing he was holding on to me, because my legs started to go weak under the effect of that kiss. By the time he pulled back, I was gasping for breath, stunned with the intensity of emotions that seemed to spring from him, but which I unaccountably shared. I stared up at him in unadulterated amazement, not sure what to make of anything anymore.

His eyes were the deep blue of midnight. “The discussion of which of us is truly evil will have to wait for another time. You are not safe here. The mundane police are looking for you, and a number of reapers live here.”

I stepped back, my face red with embarrassment at his words. I'd become my worst nightmare—a pushy, shameless woman. What must he think of me? I all but seduced him in an alleyway, for god's sake, right in front of a gaggle of ghosts, the very day after I'd spent the night with his buddy. I lifted my chin and tried to regain my composure. “I figured the police would be looking for me. I'm not afraid of the Brotherhood people, though. I know you have issues with them, but they don't pose me any threat.”

“Don't they?” The faintest hint of a smile showed on his damned lips. I dragged my gaze up from them and gave myself a mental lecture about morality. “What do you think they're going to do when they find out their precious Zorya is married to a Dark One?”

I frowned. “If the Zorya has to marry one of their own people, as you say, they aren't going to be happy, but they're hardly going to do anything to me other than take away the stone and make someone else Zorya.”

“That's not how it works,” he said, his face hard and unyielding. Even as I marveled that I had wanted so badly to kiss him, the desire to do the same welled up inside me. I squashed it down mercilessly. “In their eyes, you have been tainted by your marriage to me. The only way they can have a new Zorya is by the elimination of the old one.”

I stared at him in growing comprehension. “You mean they'd
kill
me to get a new Zorya?”

“Uh-oh,” Ulfur said. “That doesn't sound good.”

“You are wed to me,” Kristoff said evenly, his face unreadable. “You cannot assume the full powers of a Zorya now, and thus you are useless to their purpose. It will be for Alec to keep you safe so that they cannot name a new one.”