Authors: Amy Miles
The concierge's heart thunders in his chest.
Tiny beads of sweat glide down his forehead, dampening his starched collar.
"The uh...the junior suite, with a river view, is lovely.
It's rather pricey though."
Her fingertips brush the side of his hand.
"Price doesn't matter."
"Of course."
He reluctantly pulls his hand away to process the transaction.
Nicolae’s fingers tighten around her waist, tugging at the material that bars him access to her skin.
Roseline inwardly groans.
She glances back at him.
His pupils are fully dilated, eyes glassy and knows she has inadvertently affected him as well.
This is going to be awkward.
She slaps away his hand, playfully giggling as if it were all a fun game.
The concierge frowns at Nicolae.
“Your key, Miss.
Would you like some assistance parking your car?”
Two bellhops surge forward, eager to help.
Roseline takes the key and pulls Nicolae after her.
“No, thank you.
I’m sure we can manage.”
The instant they reach the sidewalk, Roseline shoves Nicolae away.
He pouts, hands reaching out for her again.
“Snap out of it.
Take deep breaths.
Let the fresh air cleanse your senses.”
“What are you talking about?” he slurs, reaching for her again.
She slams the car door in his face, leaving him standing on the path.
He blinks, shocked by her sudden dismissal.
He rounds the front of the car and pulls himself into the driver’s seat.
“Why are you angry with me?”
Roseline pinches the bridge of her nose.
“Just drive, please.”
His gaze lingers a moment longer before he puts the car into gear and follows the directions to the parking garage.
Once parked, he leaps from the car and races to open her door.
“Allow me,” he says, snatching her bag from the back seat.
She groans and heads for the hotel.
The elevator ride seems to take forever.
Nicolae stares at her with sappy adoration.
An elderly woman gives her a knowing smile before departing on the third floor.
Roseline sucks in a calming breath as the elevator jerks to a halt.
The doors open and she practically runs to their room.
Her fingers fumble with the key slot.
The instant the door lock clicks, Roseline rounds on him.
Her open palm connects with his cheek.
Stunned, Nicolae’s eyes refocus.
“What was that for?”
“You are creeping me out.”
His brow creases.
“I don’t understand.
Did I do something wrong?”
“No. I think I did.”
Nicolae steps forward, hands outstretched.
“No,” she shakes her head, “stay back.”
“But I want to help.”
Roseline backs into the adjoining room, rubbing her neck as she tries to think of a solution.
His mirroring steps make it hard to think, but her mind finally latches onto a thought.
“Sadie,” she stops and turns, “think about her, Nicolae.”
“Sadie,” he whispers.
His vision begins to clear as understanding contorts his face into a scowl.
He stomps toward her, hands clenched into fists at his side.
“You used me!”
“I didn’t know
you
would fall for it,” she snaps, tossing her bag onto an Edwardian chair just past the entrance of the room.
She crosses her arms over her chest.
“Do you honestly think I enjoyed having you paw at me?”
His eyes darken, finger jabs at her.
“Don’t try to turn this on me.
I’m not the one that uses sexual appeal to get my way.”
“It’s a good thing, because it wouldn’t work for you,” she snaps.
Nicolae growls, beginning to pace.
Roseline sighs heavily.
“Look, I did what had to be done.
End of story.”
“Oh really?
We couldn’t have gone to a different hotel?
One that doesn’t hire pompous pricks?”
Dropping to the bed, Roseline unstraps her heels and lets them fall to the floor.
She is exhausted.
“Are you even listening to me?”
Nicolae shouts.
“No.”
Roseline grabs a robe from the bed and brushes past him.
She pauses in the bathroom doorway.
“I’ll let you know when I’m done.
It looks like you could use a cold shower.”
Chapter 8
Roseline stoops to turn off the tap.
Scented salts fill the air with a light floral aroma.
Steam rises from the deep bath.
Normally she would not dare step foot in water so hot, because of her naturally warm skin anything heated feels unbearable, but her muscles ache terribly from the long drive.
She is willing to endure the stifling warmth for the water’s soothing relief.
Not to mention she could use some down time after her confrontation with Nicolae.
That certainly did not go as well as she would have liked, but one glance at the bubble-filled tub washes away her remorse.
Nicolae on the other hand, has not calmed down a bit.
His manic pacing in the outer room filters under the door.
Bitter rumblings from a teenage boy…how relaxing!
Grabbing the hem of her dress, Roseline pulls it overhead.
A cascade of loose curls spills over her shoulders as pins wrench from her hair.
The silky material flutters to the floor, pooling on the veined marble.
The cool air pumping through the vents overhead feels refreshing on her bare skin.
Her arms fall to her sides as she tilts her head toward the door.
Nicolae’s pacing has stopped.
Silence weighs heavily in the room.
Has he left?
She cannot recall hearing the outer door close.
Roseline shrugs, deciding that a wintry walk might be the best cure for his raging hormones.
Just then, the bathroom door flings wide open.
Roseline snatches her dress from the floor and dives for the walk-in shower.
She wedges herself into the far corner, praying the exposed chrome pipes will aid in hiding her from view.
Nicolae steps over the threshold and eyes the lengthy counter.
A white terry cloth robe drapes over the sink.
A bath salt container sits open next to the steaming tub.
A bottle of shampoo stands, ready for use, on the ledge.
Confused, Nicolae turns back.
Roseline rolls her eyes.
Does he really think she managed to slip by him?
He steps further into the room, jerking back when he discovers her hiding place.
“Get out,” she cries, clinging to her dress for cover.
It manages to drape sufficiently along the center of her body but leaves her sides and hips exposed.
“Oh crap!” he shouts, stumbling back.
His hip slams into the sharp edge of the counter.
He grunts, holding his wounded side as he races from the room.
The door rocks on its hinges as he slams it behind him.
Roseline rushes to lock the door behind her.
She sinks down the wall, scolding herself for not doing so in the first place.
***
“What were you thinking?” Roseline yells, tucking the belt of her robe in place.
Clumps of wet hair fall down her back.
Her freshly scrubbed skin glows in the dim lamp light.
After Nicolae’s brazen entrance, she lost all desire for a long soak and settled for an icy shower.
“I wasn’t,” he shoots back, keeping his gaze low, focusing on the beige carpet instead of her legs.
“I didn’t see anything.
I swear.”
“How could you not?
I was practically naked!”
Nicolae grimaces.
He swallows hard.
“I know.
I’m really sorry.”
Roseline grinds her teeth.
She wants to rant, to rave about how stupid he was to walk into the bathroom in the first place.
And seeing her naked…Roseline groans.
She will never live this down.
Instead of giving in to her need to vent, she sighs.
How can she fault him for his intrusion when she is just as much to blame?
Guilt forces her to snuff out the anger burning in her chest.
“Look, I understand that you are mad at me,” Roseline sinks down onto the low bench at the end of the bed, clenching her damp towel in her hands, “but I didn’t mean to drag you into all of that.
I didn’t think you would fall for my pull so quickly.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re a hunter.
I thought you were trained to resist this sort of thing.
You weren’t exactly attracted to me back in Chicago.”
“That’s not
entirely
true.”
An embarrassed flush stains his neck pink.
He averts his gaze.
“I was so focused on hating you that I guess it just didn’t work the same way”
“And now?” she asks.
The deep blush clings to his cheeks as he shrugs.
“I guess you’re not all that bad, after all.”
Roseline laughs.
“Wow, I never thought I would hear you say that.”
“Me either.”
He smirks, shaking his head.
“I’d guess that even my Uncle Sorin would’ve struggled to resist you.”
Roseline offers a tiny smile.
The thought of being that close to Nicolae’s fallen uncle gives her the creeps.
“Well, I just want you to know that I’m sorry.”
A queer look crosses his face.
“Did you really just apologize to me?”
She chuckles, shaking her head in amazement.
“Yeah, I guess I did.”
Nicolae cracks his knuckles, shaking out his hands.
He surges to his feet and crosses to the other side of the room, leaving a safe distance between them.
“I shouldn’t have stormed into the bathroom like that.
You just made me so…crazy.”
“Hormone warfare is a tricky art to master, but when done right can be very useful.”
She blushes.
“I’ll admit that I’m not very good at it.”
“Could’ve surprised me.”
He runs his hands through his hair.
“Sorin used to warn me about getting closer than a sword length to an immortal.
He told me Vladimir trains his female warriors to lure in men.
I guess I can see why now.”
His gaze flickers over her bare legs and her plunging neckline.
The belt of Roseline’s robe has begun to slip, allowing far more skin to be laid bare than Nicolae can handle.
“Why can’t you control it?” he asks, darting his gaze away before his blush betrays him.
Nicolae shoves his hands deeps into his pockets.
“I was never trained by Vladimir…at least not in
that
way,” she sneers.
Her fingertips burn at the thought of his particular style of torture training.
Each lash against her back, each nail driven through her palms, each broken bone was made worse by the knowledge that Vladimir’s punishments were not done out of malice, but out of some sick twisted form of love.
Yes, she knows Vladimir loves her.
He always has, and that love is what drove him to try to break her spirit.
His methods were simple.
She spent night after night caged in her tower, forced into solitude from Fane.
Nightly bloodlettings were used to taunt her into killing Vladimir’s victims.
Her personal training sessions with Davros, Vladimir’s go-to guy for torture was meant to break her mind.
She stares fixedly at Nicolae.
“I was not trained to seduce.
Vladimir never allowed me to be touched by anyone but himself.”
Her expression turns bitter as she fights to keep those memories at bay.
She shakes herself mentally.
“I was trained to massacre.”
He blanches slightly.
“Is there a difference?”
Roseline gives a bitter laugh.
“If you had ever seen me fight, you would not need to ask that question.”
“I sort of did back at the dungeon.
When you nearly killed Vladimir.”
Her face darkens.
“I was only trying to save your life.
I have other plans for his end.”
She clenches her towel tightly in her fists, oblivious to the water that streams from the damp cloth.
Nicolae peers at her.
“But you’ve been on the front lines before, right?
Sorin told me you were here, in London, during the Blitz.”
“Yes,” she nods, her throat clenching.
“Humans blamed the fires and deaths on the war.
Over 100,000 bombs dropped on London that night, but immortals were the ones who caused the most destruction.”
She can easily remember the rancid smoke billowing around St. Paul’s cathedral.
Amongst the chaos of world war, a supernatural blood feud spilled into the streets.
Lives were slashed down and fires erupted across the city as hunter’s homes were ferreted out.
Roseline had been held back, perched at Vladimir’s side atop the cathedral.
Away from the fighting.
Away from danger.
Forced to watch Fane fight for his life on the church steps.
Unable to call out a warning.
Utterly helpless.
It was done on purpose of course.
Vladimir eagerly watched her face as the hours drug by but Roseline refused to show any emotion, even when Fane took a hard blow to his head and was knocked unconscious.
Disgusted by Roseline’s control over her anger, Vladimir called off the fight, but that would not be the last time he tried to break her spirit.
Or discover the truth behind her relationship with Fane.
No doubt, if his lust for blood had not slightly overshadowed his lust for Roseline, Vladimir might have found them out centuries ago.
Although he had sent spies to follow their movements, Roseline was too smart to be discovered in a compromising relationship with Fane.
She learned early on how to cover her tracks and Vladimir’s training backfired on him.
Nicolae clears his throat, recapturing her attention.
She smiles.
“Sorry.
Lost in thought.”
“I can tell.
You look awful.”
She chuckles.
“That night and many others are not memories I like to dredge up.
They are best left to the past.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
“Don’t be.
You couldn’t have known.”
She brushes her fingers through her tangled hair, needing to do something that grounds her to
this
reality.
“I was there, but I did not fight.
Vladimir would not let me out of his sight.”
“Why not?”
Her face pinches with disgust.
“All of his efforts, for over three hundred years, have been for one purpose…to break me.
To turn me into the cold-blooded killer he thinks I should be.
He trained me so that then when I finally did break, he could unleash me on the world.”