Inescapable (Eternelles: The Beginning, Book 1) (11 page)

“He vanished after that day,” Des continued. “And I saw him pop up again two days ago, at the gala.”

She had an inkling why he’d disappeared. The scroll he’d been looking for had been entrusted to her on that day long ago. Now it lay in a place only she knew, no one privy to the knowledge that she held the document.

She wouldn’t play all her cards, not yet. Des had proved to be on her side so far, but until she was sure he didn’t bat for any other team or even for himself, she’d keep some things to herself.

So Adri fished for information. “Do you know what scroll he was looking for?”

“Yes.”

The reply stunned her, but she didn’t let the surprise show. “What does it unlock?”

“The Kindling.”

If she hadn’t been standing, her legs would’ve given up under her. “You have to be joking.”

“Sadly, no. Power few trusted immortals could acquire over the ages can be harnessed in the snap of fingers for the one who can read that scroll.”

Power like hers, to be able to sound the mind of any creature alive. She’d developed that over time. Power like Des’, whatever he happened to be—no one could pop up and out like he could.

Power like daywalking, were vampyres able to access The Kindling.

And if coupled with the portal opening and Sekhmet coming forth to lead the original vampires, humanity, and the world as everyone had known it, was doomed.

“You terrified me today.” Voice rich as melted dark chocolate trilled through her. “I will not lose you.” The voice turned hard, steely. Hoarse.

Warm breath caressed her cheek, replaced by lips pressed to her skin in a fleeting touch.

Sera opened her eyes to warm, intense pools staring into hers. Rafe Harcourt stood in mist that swirled about him like a fawning servant. It floated, cloudlike, enveloping the space around her as well in tendrils of white fog. He appeared to her much like the time she’d seen him in London a century ago, on the worst night of her life—cloaked in mystery and wicked appeal.

He cut a fine figure in thigh-hugging blue jeans and black turtleneck that defined the powerful lines of his body. She, on the other hand, fell short in a pink t-shirt, sweatpants, and wool socks, her comfortable but none too feminine sleeping gear.

Running her fingers through her hair, she tried to tame the wild locks, mussed, frizzy, and tangled from sleep. All in vain, because no amount of attention could discipline the fiery mass on her head without her treasured hair products. Then, checking her act of vanity, she forced her hand down in irritation, refusing to consider why she cared about the way she looked in front of this man.

And speaking of sleep—she looked back to see herself snuggled in the bed in her room in the castle, tossing and moaning, an open book on the blanket just beyond her grasp. Was she dreaming? Half-way awake? She touched her arms then rubbed them. Cold. Goosebumps felt as real as the man in front of her.

Suppressing a shiver, she locked gazes with Rafe, again her tormentor tonight. Twice in under a week felt too close for comfort.

“Why are you here again?” she asked.

“You almost died.”

“Yep. Did I forget to thank you for that? So sorry,” she said sarcastically. Lashing out made good armor, for when the tides of emotion rose dangerously, the best solution was to get on high ground. Become untouchable. A block of ice.

She had to keep pushing him back. If she relaxed, she’d be swept away by the current he carried with him and let him pull her in with invisible binds. A willing victim.

He stepped a tad closer to her and reached out to touch her cheek with the back of his hand—the same spot he’d kissed moments earlier. It took a superhuman effort not to recoil from the sharp jolt of electricity that provoked. Recoil not from revulsion, but from too much attraction. Mercifully, he let that hand fall to his side.

“You denying what’s between us is getting tiresome,” he said with a crooked smile, a trace of sadness escaping him like weak fizz from a glass of soda.

“You mean the fact that I hate you?” she retorted. A strong word—a bit like fighting a campfire with all the blazes of Hell. “Now here’s a man who can’t take no for an answer.”

As if his eyes weren’t compelling enough already, the mist reflected their hidden depths, turning golden whiskey to dark rum. His jaw clenched. “Sometimes, you can’t help but follow your desires. One day you will understand…but for now, we just need to keep you safe.”

“That’s not your concern, is it?” She looked back at the shape of her sleeping body under the blankets. “I was resting until you came and anyway, dealing with my mother is enough on that front.”

“Your mother is right. Something’s going on and I don’t like it.”

Sera crossed her arms and emitted a moan that sounded excessively catlike. Damn. Her intention had been more to utter something along the lines of a disbelieving snort.

“Excuse me. Weren’t you the one who tried to kidnap me along with those other…monsters?” She stressed the last word, letting the jibe sink in. If she was part monster, he had made her so in his image.

“I just wanted you to come with me as I was led to understand your safety was involved. Clearly, that wasn’t the case. I’m just as clueless as you are.”

“How could any of your minions act behind your back? Aren’t you a vampire leader?”

“Something like that.”

An inscrutable smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, making their sensual fullness appear impossibly scrumptious. Probably more than a decadent chocolate truffle cake cooked up with mystery ingredients by
Ada or Lorraine at
The Stirring Pot
. More than the finest ambrosia.

Quelling an evil urge to kiss those lips and trail her tongue over the masculine angles of his face, she wondered whether the rogue had not one but several spells on her. Sera’s stomach did a flip—and so did her heart. Her traitorous heart. Disgusted with herself, she looked away.

“So what do you think happened?” she asked in an attempt for a truce.

“I think that I was either fed a bag of lies, or someone’s interests clash with my own. Either way, I will find out.”

“I thought the vampyres’ beef was with the people at Shadow Bridge, not each other.”

She looked back at him in time to catch the severity of his expression. Inflexible lines and angles made even more pronounced by day-old stubble.

“Then you need to wake up to the real world, my love. Where there is something to be gained, there is no loyalty.”

“You’re too cynical. Our community proves that wrong and we’re perfectly happy.”

“If you quizzed every single sup creature in Shadow Bridge, you’ll find my theory will prove true. Seeing the world through rose-tinted glasses will not protect you from danger.”

Sera felt suddenly tired and helpless, too deflated to argue on that point, although she disagreed wholeheartedly—most of the time. “Like Susan….” On days like that, it was tough to believe people were inherently good.

Rafe nodded. “Something of value was stolen that night—a statue. I was supposed to oversee its delivery to my people. Did Adri tell you?”

“No,” she said.
So you are upset because I don’t tell you everything, eh, Mom? I suppose that only applies to me in your book.

Filing that piece of knowledge for later reference, she mulled Rafe’s words. “In other words, someone took it before you had a chance to lay your hands on it. Another vampyre?”

“No clue so far, but for certain, it was no creature I created. I would know,” he said, his gaze intense.
I know everything if it involves one of mine,
he looked as if to say. He shrugged. “After checking out the Met later that night, I came up empty-handed.”

“So you weren’t involved in her murder?” Sera held her breath as though her very life depended on the answer.

A pulse ticked at Rafe’s jaw. “No.”

Relieved, she let out the imprisoned breath—finding herself believing Rafe. Somewhere deep down, despite his nature, she couldn’t fathom him as a cold-blooded killer.

“Why do you care at all what happens to me?”

Rather than respond, he took one more step, his eyes never leaving hers—so many messages in them, making her feel things she didn’t want to feel for him. And now that he was close, she was doomed for she also smelled his powerful scent. Spicy, clean, pure male. A little citrusy and fresh, like he’d just popped out of the shower. In fact, his hair was still slightly damp…. Sera would be a nerveless body kept together by dead skin to resist that intoxicating fragrance of him. A shell with no emotions to speak of. And a shell, she wasn’t.

Feeling her body heat up at his slow perusal of it, she let him pull her to him, his beautifully sculpted hands large and firm at her waist.

Her head tilted back before her brain seemed to clue in to what was about to happen. She already knew what his lips would feel like, taste like. He’d kissed her once before—one time too many because the way she’d melted in his arms the night he’d turned her had been seared in her brain forever. Since then, she’d craved him.

But this was a time when being prepared was not enough, because when his lips met hers, their hunger consumed her, forced her to open up to him and let him feed on her yearning.

And fuel it.

For if the kiss of his claiming a hundred years ago had been devastating, this one left her thirsty for more, for the rest of him.

She opened her mouth, welcoming the thrust of his tongue, and placed her hands over his broad chest. The thin sweater allowed her to feel the taut muscles that shifted and came alive under her palms. He wasn’t gentle when he slid his hands down her body and squeezed her buttocks, lifting her slightly and crushing her body to him. Even with her height of five eight without shoes, he towered over her. Hard flesh pressed into her, telling her he wanted to be inside her, now. Visions of her spread under him as he violently thrust into her dominated her mind like a whip-wielding lion trainer at a circus. Erotic visions that made her belly flutter and her core burn hotter than the sun.

Unable to help herself, she snaked her arms around his neck and gave in to the temptation of burying her fingers in thick ebony locks that curled enticingly at the edges. Yes, still a little wet, and long enough to give him an air of uncivilized charm. Somewhat polished, but not quite. The fact that he rode that fence made him even more of a magnet to her—and probably to countless other women. He was, after all, the son of a handsome Saracen father and a French beauty, according to what her mother had told her, something that only Adri knew because she’d been a close friend of his mother many centuries ago. That unlikely and disgraced union was bound to produce something extraordinary.

The man certainly brought the worst out of her. And the passionate woman, too, for she returned his kiss, measure for measure, tit for tat, curled her tongue around his and engaged in that sensual dance with him. If this was her lot—to be completely in thrall by him—she wouldn’t allow him the undisputed lead. Pushing her body up on tiptoes, she leaned her head further to get more access, and went dizzy as desire spiraled through her.

A faraway groan—was it him?—caused her to whimper in response as he cradled one hand around her head and then buried it in her hair. When he shifted his feet and positioned her to his pleasure, she realized that he was vying for dominance, for the rascal knew she was putty in his arms, primed for him.

It shocked her that she accepted this in so carefree a manner. Indeed, she shocked herself. But she wanted him enough to make him pant for her. Lifting a long leg, she trailed it sensuously between his until she reached his groin.

Another groan.

I know what you want, Rafe. If I’m yours, then you’re also mine—assuming I want you that much.

Sex was fine, she supposed. A healthy diversion, Adri would say.

Didn’t her mother once tell her that a man was toast when a woman knew how to handle him? After all, she’d had tons of exposure with the opposite sex from centuries posing on and off as a courtesan. All of this made Adri a very experienced woman in the art of love as she’d called it—experience Sera seriously needed to catch up on.

Boldly, encouraged by a sense of power over her man, she ground her thigh against his sex, relishing his raw reaction to her sudden sensuous bent. He was probably just as surprised. She’d never gone this far with him, and she wasn’t in her right mind. If the desire she felt right now had been anger instead, she’d have burned herself to ashes, and no amount of blood her mother could have given her would have saved her from death’s pull.

Rafe left her mouth and trailed his lips to her neck, bringing back memories….

But just when the dark imaginings had about snapped her back from his embrace, he licked and sucked on her earlobe, then flicked his tongue in her ear, ratcheting up an unholy fever.

“Mine,” he whispered. “Never forget.”

How could she? Even if she tried, her body hankered for him. No voice of reason had the better of her when he was around.

He played her body like a Stradivarius. Caressing, rubbing, feeling, tasting. When the hand on her behind moved down and reached over to lightly brush against her most intimate spot—a deliberate move meant to push her over the edge—she cried out. That’s all it took to cause her to shout his name and plead with him to stop. He touched her there while all thoughts disintegrated and there was only him, and his hands on her.

She didn’t think mercy was one of his qualities but finally, he stopped and settled his hand at her lower back, splaying those deft fingers that knew too well how to touch her. Every one of the digits and the palm branded her skin through the cotton of her shirt.

He raised his head to look into her face. Until she cleared the wool from her head, she didn’t register his strained look.

“I’ll stop if you will,” he finally said through gritted teeth.

“What—?”

“Hmmm, I’d love for you to go on with what you’re doing, my little kitten, but only if you want to finish this so that we’re
both
happy.”

Mortified, she hastily removed her leg and set it down on the floor, then jumped away from him as if she’d seen a cockroach scuttle past.

Her cheeks burned as he regarded her with a curious mien. “I saw you smile several times. You have beautiful dimples and your eyes shine so bright. One day, you’ll smile for me, with me.”

Several times? You’ve been watching me, then….

Frazzled, she pulled her hair back with both hands and held the locks, unable to meet his gaze. The blood that had rushed to her face tingled, driving the nail home on her embarrassment.