My Familiar Stranger (26 page)

In her world, she had once read that men don’t “get” pillows on beds; that it’s purely a feminine thing – a complete mystery to the male psyche. Maybe they had it wrong. Maybe the pillows spring from a need for emotional comfort. Or, in the case of the lonely, a desire to see the bed populated. The general impression of Baka’s living space left little doubt that no expense had been spared, but she supposed he had nothing else on which to spend the proceeds of royalties. “You’re a musician?”

“Yes.”

“And you play all these instruments.”

“Yes.” Elora nodded. “And paint?”

“Yes.”

“And you write vampire romances. Fiction I presume?” He grinned. “Have you read one of my books?”

“I’ve read all of them, Valerie.”

He raised an eyebrow, letting his grin melt into a smile that was so handsome. And so human! A lifetime of discipline kicked in when she directed herself to sit up straight and remember that he is not, in fact, human just as a voice was saying, "But, people are still people even when they are sick."

He exuded sexuality so potent that lust could almost be a scent diffused into the air.

Just as she had that thought his nostrils widened and he inhaled deeply. “And, was that research or did you enjoy my work?” His smile was sinfully seductive, his tone full of innuendo and she realized he was alluding to the juicier passages of erotica. He made a half-hearted attempt at hiding a laugh when he noticed a little flush.

She raised her chin just enough to imply defiance. “Loved it. Can’t wait for the next installment in the series. What will it be?
Love Bleeds
?”

“Mocking me?” His eyes twinkled. “I’m crushed.”

“A sensitive vampire? That has to be an oxymoron.” Elora thought she might have seen a flicker of hurt feelings, but decided she must have imagined it. “Actually, regarding your books, I did notice that there was a lot written about the joys of giving blood to irresistibly sexy, good-looking vampire, but nothing about mercilessly ripping out throats and leaving unrecognizable corpses behind.”

He lifted a shoulder in a casual shrug. “I write romances. I don’t like horror.”

“That’s very funny, Baka. You’re a lover, not a fiend.” After a derisive snort, she glanced at the pillows on the bed. “Are you gay?”

He was obviously startled by the question and her bluntness. When he recovered from the surprise, a second or two later, he laughed out loud and it was her turn to be startled. His laughter resonated with genuine emotion that seemed at odds with the grim reality of his existence. It was melodic. It was gorgeous. Spell binding even.

“Why would you think that?”

“Well, let me see. You’re into the arts.
All
the arts. You wear silk. You write romance novels. You have long hair. You’re over thirty with a flat stomach. And you have lots of pillows on your bed.”

That relaxed look of amusement had returned to his face. “Well, I guess six hundred years is enough time to get in touch with one’s feminine side. I am not motivated to impress others with an unrealistic, arbitrary, or fashionable ideal of masculinity; a superimposed caricature of a man.” The panel door opened and a priceless crystal stem appeared filled full of sparkling cider as if by magic. Baka rose to cross the room. Elora stepped back watching him warily. He retrieved the goblet and set it on the end table next to the chair opposite his, then stoked the fire with a poker before retaking his seat.

The poker he used caused Elora to look around the room assessing how many weapons were readily available and how many weapons could be made from the materials at hand. Clearly, The Order was not as afraid of Baka as they pretended to be. She suspected the entire mystique surrounding his confinement, from the transport chains to the vault door was theatre. Baka had surrendered voluntarily and remained here, in this tower prison, voluntarily. What purpose did it serve? Causing operatives of Black Swan to believe he was the equivalent of the bogeyman.

There was no arguing that he had been the baddest of the bad, claiming a thousand lives as he rampaged through Europe for centuries, but now he was simply a shadow of a reputation.

He sat with legs spread in a relaxed pose. Feeling comfortable with her conclusion, she sat in the vacant chair opposite him.

Without taking her eyes away from Baka, she raised the goblet to her lips and took a sip, then bit back a moan that wanted to bubble up from the pleasure of the sweet taste.

“Regarding my flat stomach, six hundred years ago people such as myself didn’t have access to sugar, beer, fried food, or fructose corn syrup. Thank you for noticing, by the way.”

“Are these two chairs a permanent part of your furnishings?”

“Yes.”

“Do you often have company?”

“Never.” She raised both brows. “Even vampire have hopes and dreams. Mine are simple. I dream of having someone to talk to.”

The open vulnerability of that statement would rend her heart in two if it could be trusted.

“What is it that you want with me, Baka?”

He looked at her in a predatory way that, she sensed, had nothing to do with blood. “The same thing any man who isn’t blind would want from you.” Elora arched a right eyebrow and took another sip of golden liquid as she waited for him to spell it out. “Your phone number.”

She choked on the swallow of cider in a failed attempt at laughter. Some of it ended up on the front of her sweater and some of that may have even come out through her nose. In a couple of heartbeats the choking gave way to a ragged intake of breath.

Baka had half risen from his chair to assist her before realizing that such an advance would likely result in a seven-knight-pile-on and the abrupt extraction of Elora Laiken, her witty dialogue, and her delicious heat. He thought that, if he was writing this scene in one of his novels, he would say that she brought a warmth to the room that made the fire want to die of shame. And it wouldn’t be empty prose. He would mean it.

Looking at him like the last thing she expected was to enjoy his company, Elora said, “I’ll bet women liked you when you were human.”

Baka cocked his head a little and nodded as if pleased by her observation. “I’d like to think they still do.”

“Hmmm.”

“Hmmm, again?” He looked at the fire momentarily. The day was gray enough with snow that she could see dim shadows from the fire flickering over his face. “I’ll tell you who doesn’t like me.”

“I already have a list started, but who did you have in mind?”

“Your dog. Quite an awe-inspiring beast.”

She grinned. “Indeed. He’d like to see you turned into a month’s supply of meaty bones.”

“Gruesome image.”

“So you’re a vampire who is not only sensitive, but squeamish as well?”

He shook his head slightly and shrugged. “Not really.”

“So, phone number aside, why did you make the consulting gig contingent on a visit with me? An
unbound
visit with me?”

Baka looked toward the mirror, forever aware, acutely so, that he was being watched. Before she could rein in her feelings she had felt a twinge of sympathy. The only thing worse than absolute loneliness is an absolute lack of privacy. She knew that firsthand.

Baka had been a vampire for a very, very long time when his human feelings started to return. Unfortunately he retained the memories of the things he had done as a vampire. He could tell himself that he was afflicted, possessed by something not himself, when he perpetrated heinous acts of cruelty, torture, and murder. But the other voice inside him said that, if he carried the memories, then it was he who was responsible. An ever abiding, crushing guilt was never far from mind and he would do what he could to curb the spread of the infection that had claimed his life and many since.

“You know you and I are very alike,” he said.

“I don’t see that.”

“Your freedom is restricted. If you’re allowed to come and go, it’s with an escort of knights. Am I right? Your chains may be invisible, but they are there.”

“Why do you think that?”

“I know things.” His gaze glanced off the mirror, then he gestured toward the room. “You and I are both prisoners in gilded cages.” He saw a flicker of emotion cross her face on hearing the term gilded cage.

How could he have gleaned so much from a brief, one time sighting that lasted, perhaps, ten seconds? She would have appeared to be as free as anyone else even if she was a prisoner with grounds restriction privileges.

She replied evenly. “Even if that were true, one vague similarity would hardly make us ‘very alike’.”

He sighed heavily. “Very well. If you prefer, let’s just say we have one vague similarity in common.”

“In any case, even if your assessment is true, I’m about to be given independence. Upon my return as a matter of fact.”

He smiled slowly and suggestively. “As it happens, so am I. Upon your return, as a matter of fact. We’re going to work together to disinfect your little corner of the world. In addition to your phone number, I wanted the chance to get to know you a little and to let you know that you don’t need to fear me.”

On the other side of the mirror, in the observation room Kay said, astonished, “Gods Waking Odin! He really
is
infatuated with her. I was kidding when I said it. What is it about this woman?”

Elora pushed out a disbelieving puff of breath. “Don’t need to fear you? Baka. You can’t be serious.”

“The thing is, we’re already there.”

As an afterthought she added, “What do you mean we’re going to work together? You mean you and The Order or you and me?”

“You and me. We. The two of us.”

“What makes you think that?” In answer he simply shrugged. “Wait. I’ve got this one. You know things.”

He smiled indulgently. She hadn’t let her guard down because she had promised to be prudent, but, at the same time, she realized it was true. She wasn’t afraid.

Without further adieu, still looking Baka in the eye, she raised her voice and said, “Open,” The sadness that flickered over his face stirred her compassion yet again. “So you know me a little. If you get a phone, maybe you’ll get my number. First, we need to see whether you’re going to be a good vampire or not.” Too late she realized that she had used the phrase "good vampire".

He offered a sad smile. “Thank you for coming, Lady Laiken. I won’t forget that we shared a sparkling cider on a snowy afternoon.”

“Shared?” she chided.

“Yes. You drank it.” He deliberately raked his gaze up and down the length of her body, “And I enjoyed watching. If there’s anything I can do for you..."

Elora tilted her head to one side thinking. “As a matter of fact, I would appreciate an article of clothing, something that hasn’t been laundered since you last wore it.”

He raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Should I ask?”

She shrugged. “I don’t mind
sharing
.” She emphasized the last word. “I plan to train my dog to track vampire.”

Without doubt the man, er, vampire, had the most sensual, musical laugh she had ever heard.

On hearing the locks spinning behind her she rose from her chair. Baka did the same so that they were now standing just three feet apart. She was never going to hear the end of this from Storm because being this close to the vampire was one of the things he had so strongly cautioned against.

She was about to say goodbye when he pulled his shirt tail free of his jeans and, with his gaze locked on Elora, slowly began unbuttoning his shirt. He watched her eyes fall to where his fingers moved over the buttons. When he finally pulled the shirt back, letting it fall from his shoulders, he revealed an upper body that had been toned by a hard life and, as he had mentioned, no sugar at the time he was infected with the virus. He held the shirt out and she accepted it, barely suppressing the urge to rub the sexy feeling silk between her fingers.

“Okay. We’re even.” She turned her back on him and walked away without looking back. The nonchalance of her posture and gait wasn’t entirely feigned.

Baka stood by the fire, shirtless and unmoving, until after the vault was resecured.

When she stepped over the multiple grooves of the titanium threshold, the tension in the room was so palpable she almost swayed.

Ram was sitting on a counter, breathing into a paper bag and was so angry he couldn’t even look her in the face. When she had gone to sit within arm’s reach of Baka, he had lunged for the door, spinning the vault wheel and screaming, “Get her out! Get her out right now!”

Kay had been forced to grip Ram in a bear hug from behind and immobilize him long enough to say, “If she hears the vault opening, it will surprise her. She’ll be distracted and look away from him. We can’t take that chance. You understand me? We don’t have any choice but to let her play it out her way.”