Authors: Michele Hauf
A witch could live eternally, so long as the renewal ritual was performed once a century on the eve of a blue moon. In order to obtain immortality, a witch had to consume the blood from a vampire’s beating heart.
Yeah, it was messy, and sickening. Ravin had done it twice now. She would continue to do it because life on this earth hadn’t gotten unbearable, and she liked moving from century to century, watching the world grow up and come into its own. It had been moving remarkably fast the past few decades. There were times Ravin felt she might kneel down and dig her fingers into the earth to hang on so she didn’t fall off the rapidly spinning planet.
But it was all good. Until she saw a vampire. Then the innate need for vengeance brewed, overwhelming all reason—and further tilting her balance toward the dark.
“Got to get my soul back,” she murmured. “I just…have to.”
If she could see her own aura, she guessed it would be a fuzzy gray with spots or lines of black streaking through it. Nasty business dealing with Himself. But because she had, she would never again slay a mortal being. And that made the deal worth it.
Nikolaus’s aura was brilliant crimson. Very few spots of ash on it, as it was for most vampires. That was curious in itself, because while he came off as this ultraviolent, big bad guy, the lack of ash made her wonder if it was all a front.
She’d revealed her heart to him today. Would he do the same should she ask him?
“I want to know,” she whispered as she clasped her arms over her chest and closed her eyes. “Who were you, Nikolaus Drake? And why do you care so much?”
What are you thinking? He’s the enemy.
To summon the acrid feeling of hatred didn’t work. She couldn’t do it.
“But I don’t
like
him,” she tried. “I merely tolerate him. Until the spell is broken, there’s not much else I can do for him.”
Yes, that was it. It wasn’t as though she was developing feelings for a longtooth.
T
he human brain was a marvel, capable of directing and choreographing thousands of mindless daily tasks, assignments, workloads and entertainments without the owner of the brain even realizing it.
It was more powerful than any computer that existed, or would come into existence over the next billion years. It was forgiving to the extent of injury location, or it could devastate by merely bursting a microsized blood vessel.
It needed oxygen and knowledge to survive. It told the truth, it cued emotion, and it initiated disease. It protected through intuition, memory loss and outright deception.
It could trick a man into believing something to be truth, though it might not be. The brain could make a man feel emotion, such as fear over an imagined presence, or sadness when one guesses incorrectly over a missing loved one, though neither has occurred.
The brain was capable of inducing desire merely at the sight of a flat two-dimensional photo. It could summon want merely by smell. Passion, merely by recognizing the sound of lovers going at it while the brain’s owner stood outside an open bedroom window.
And it was making Nikolaus Drake love against all reason.
His brain believed in the spell—that was all there was to it. He should be able to counter-intuit the feeling of love—but he didn’t want to.
But did he not want to because of the spell, or because of his true and genuine feelings? That was the hard question.
“I don’t want this to stop.”
And yet he did.
For how could he successfully return to Kila while his heart was led by a witch’s hands? She could not possibly respect him for the intelligent, caring person he felt himself to be. He was nothing—ash—to Ravin Crosse.
She held all the power. Not in her blood, but in her deadly kiss. For to kiss her, to fall even deeper, to not care if he wore her taint on his flesh, could only bring his death by those of his kind.
Gabriel strode into the living room, checking the plants in the corner. “You talk to Truvin yet?”
“Tomorrow night.” Nikolaus tore his gaze from the reflected shore lights dancing on the river and studied his cohort. “You feeling better?”
“It was nothing.” The man brushed off the nightmare with a gesture, but he wasn’t so foolish as to think Nikolaus didn’t know the truth. “A mistake.”
“Killing is never—” Nikolaus forced back the need to admonish. He was not the man’s keeper, nor was he his leader. He had no right to suggest Gabriel live his life a certain way.
A way that pleases you?
That is what you’ve been doing
. All these years. Nikolaus could not have a surgeon’s life, one that gave him God-like control over common, sickly mortals, so instead he had replaced it with a position of command. Of control over others. And he was only now realizing it.
“Nikolaus?” Gabriel prompted. “I said I was sorry.”
Clamping a palm across his friend’s shoulder, Nikolaus gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I will not judge you. And…I am sorry for enforcing a way of life that may have proved too constrictive. There are times I cannot look beyond my own world.”
“Hey, man, don’t apologize for being there for me when I most needed a supportive hand,” Gabriel said. “You’ve taught me things and have taken care of me. The one who gave me the nightmares…she was just, well…it was jealousy. It is a very strong influence.”
“Something you want to talk about?” Nikolaus wondered.
Gabriel shook his head, and wandered toward the kitchen. “Not unless you’re in the mood to talk about what’s been keeping you away at all hours lately.”
When Nikolaus didn’t answer, because he wasn’t sure what to say—confession didn’t feel right—his friend said he’d see him whenever he could, and left. For a night on the prowl, Nikolaus assumed.
He wanted to be forthright with Gabriel, but until he could determine whether or not he was being true to his own soul, Nikolaus decided an unmentioned liaison was not a lie, merely a safety measure.
Ravin stripped off her Kevlar vest and dropped it on the floor before the artillery closet.
She needed to put her mind back in the frame it was accustomed to. Nikolaus was preaching his peace and love to her and she’d almost fallen earlier. Almost.
This witch wasn’t going to succumb to a love spell that had no control over her. It was designed to only affect the recipient, not the receiver.
Checking her twelve-gauge, she verified two blood bullets in the shotgun chamber. There were still a dozen on the shelf in the artillery closet. She wouldn’t need to make more within the week, but she did need to use the bullets soon. Ten days’ shelf life was max before the blood started to curdle and dry to the inside of the bullet wall.
And yet she stared down at the vest folded around her feet. This was the second time she’d taken it off in the past ten minutes. She couldn’t seem to keep it on.
“You can’t do it, can you, you idiot slayer.”
Oh, she could. She just…felt off her game tonight. That was it. Not up for a jaunt outside. It was humid and sticky, the thermometer soaring toward an unseasonable ninety degrees. Not the right weather for leather. Firing up the street chopper didn’t feel worth the expenditure of gas to stalk a prey that had become elusive of late.
“Tomorrow,” she offered, knowing the lackluster promise would never be kept.
“And then what?”
Spinning at the sound of the male voice, Ravin drew her gun on aim with Nikolaus Drake’s dark blue eyes. Like a piece of wool fabric she’d torn from her mother’s dress, she realized now the color of the man’s eyes matched perfectly.
“Go ahead.” His killer charm and smile slid into position. “Love is supposed to hurt, isn’t it?”
Damn him, she thought.
“You can’t possibly cross my wards so easily.” She shook the gun once, as if to do so would make it fire invisible bullets that would have some effect on the vampire.
Without implicating the slayer, right?
“I had a carpenter fix the bolts and hinges and I reinforced all the protection wards this afternoon. You need permission to cross a private threshold, vampire.”
“We’ve been over this. Bonded by blood, remember?” He turned and casually strode into the kitchen, where he opened the refrigerator and scanned the contents.
Outfitted in black suede jeans this evening, and a soft gray sleeveless shirt, the man advertised sex with every flex of his muscles and in each grin he sent her way.
“I wish you were ash!”
Ravin slammed her gun onto the artillery shelf. She was still strapped up with a gun on her left thigh and a blade in her boot. She marched across the room, and when the vampire didn’t acknowledge her approach, she tapped him on a big broad shoulder.
He turned around and kissed her.
While she struggled to get an audible “no” out, the urge to wrap her arms around his neck and her legs about his hips moved her limbs before she could protest.
“And speaking of the blood bond,” he said. Another kiss. Ravin shuddered at the touch of his warm mouth to her neck. He grazed her with his teeth. “Check this out.”
He tugged down his collar to reveal the havoc of tattoos and scars that disappeared up into his hairline—the tattoos were still there, but the scars were not.
“What the hell?” Dropping her legs to stand, Ravin tugged aside Nikolaus’s hair and smoothed her fingers over the surprisingly soft skin.
“All gone. Even along my side and under my arm. I think you did this to me, sweetness. Pretty damn awesome, eh?”
“How could I—?” She stroked his neck and he tilted his head appreciatively. The flesh was soft and new as she glided along the strong muscle. “From having sex?”
“I think so. I don’t know your witchy legends well, but isn’t there something about a vampire gaining strength from a witch when they make love?”
“The blood sex magic,” she blabbered stupidly. And then she mentally kicked herself for revealing so much.
“That’s right. When a vampire has sex with a witch, and drinks her blood, he draws her magic into him. Hasn’t happened for centuries because of the whole death cocktail thing.”
“Right. The great Protection spell,” she muttered. “Well, there was that one case, but the witch had immunity in her blood….”
“Pretty sure I’m immune to your blood. Trial by fire and rising from the ash, you know. Phoenix, that’s me.”
“Yes,” she agreed absently. “Which is the reason we were able to make love—your immunity. Yes, the ancients once had relationships with vampires. And whenever they had sex, the witch’s magic would flow into the vampire.”
“Must be what’s happening,” Nikolaus said. “All I know is I feel damn good, as if I could wrestle a whole clan of wolves. Thank you, sweetness.”
She shoved at his chest, but her heart wasn’t in the protest. “It’s not something I’d voluntarily give to you.”
“I know. You hate me. You’re the crazy vigilante witch. I hate you.”
“Finally, you’re beginning to talk some sense.”
“But I don’t. I can’t imagine ever hating something so sweet and ripe as you.”
Nikolaus hooked his hands under her thighs, and kissing her, carried her into the living room, where he laid her on the leather couch. All without breaking the incredible kiss.
He was completely oblivious.
“This is wrong,” Ravin said—just so it was said. She wanted to get that protest out into the ether.
And then, she let it happen.
Again.
Until the night surrendered to morning.
“I love you,” Nikolaus rasped against Ravin’s ear.
She turned over on the bed, nestling her shoulder against his chest and pressing her buttocks to his thighs. His erection hugged the small of her back. Always hard, and always fascinating for its constant rigidity.
To hear
I love you
whispered in her ear made her happy. And whispered by a strapping, handsome, brooding man—vampire.
Of all the stupid mistakes. She’d done it again? And so many times.
Well, now she couldn’t claim force or ignorance, only stupidity.
Or was it something else? Did she
want
to be with this vampire?
“Do you love me, Ravin?”
“It’s a spell,” she found herself mumbling. It was the simplest way to avoid her perplexing feelings. Feelings she hadn’t had for years, decades, maybe even more than a century.
“So you say.” He wrapped his arm across her stomach, hooking his fingers at her opposite hip, and rolled with her so she lay on top of his body, looking up at the ceiling.
“Now what?” she said on a giggle.
A giggle?
Oh, Ravin, you’ve got yourself into something here
.
Nikolaus pressed one fist against the small of her back. Placing another hand at her neck, he kept her head from falling back. He easily balanced her body there, above his by inches. And he lowered her onto his erection. It was like an extreme gymnast move, but Ravin went along for the ride.