Harlequin Nocturne September 2014 Bundle: Beyond the Moon\Immortal Obsession (20 page)

“Then I'm jealous,” she said. “But only a bit. You're mine now, hunter. For as long as we can work.”

“Does that mean you've decided I am worthy of staying on beyond the three-date maximum?”

“Yes. At least until the full moon.”

“Beyond the moon,” he said. “I am yours beyond the moon.”

His hand slipped high on her breast, and as his mouth moved over hers, he suddenly pulled away, splashing water over the side of the tub. The look in his eyes startled her.

“What?”

He pressed his hand firmly over her breast. “I can…read you. I can feel your trust for me and your—your love. Verity, I can read your truths now. It's there. The hunger. The fear. You're confused about it—and scared.” He kissed her cheek. “Please don't be scared, lover. I will get you through this.”

“I know you'll try. But really? You can read me? I wonder why now? Do you think it's Marianne?”

“If so, then she's kept me from reading you until now.”

“Maybe she didn't want you to learn about her soul right away.”

“Possible. Because she needed us to work together.”

“Doesn't matter, does it? You can feel my love for you. You know I've given you all my truths.”

“Yes, but you are—please don't be scared, Verity.”

She sat up, bubbles dusting her chest. “When I'm with you, I'm not afraid. You've taken my thoughts away from
you know what
. You make me strong. When I'm with you I actually feel like I can make it past the moon. But…”

She glanced at the towel she'd set out to dry off with. She was cold now that she had sat up in the water.

“But what?”

The hunger pangs were still there, softer yet never gone. She needed to quench her thirst.

“I need to get out. I'm cold now.”

She stood, and he coved her up against him and wrapped the big towel around them both. They stood there in the doorway between the bathroom and the bedroom, and he bowed his head to hers.

“Something is still bothering you. Tell me.” He pressed a hand over her heart, and she wasn't so sure she liked that he could read her now. Because he must feel her reluctance.

“Verity?”

“It's just…if I do transform to vampire, you have to understand that is not something I can live with. And you've said as much.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but she pressed her fingers to his lips.

“So if I change…will you slay me?”

He shoved away from her, striding out into the bedroom.

She'd said the wrong thing. But it was her truth. He would have known if she had lied. How could she live with herself if blood was what that life demanded?

Rook turned to her, jaw muscle pulsing. “Do you understand what you just asked me to do?”

Yes, to slay the woman he had confessed to loving. Oh, hell.

“Oh, no, I didn't mean it like that.” He'd already been forced to kill a woman he loved. “I wasn't thinking about her. I'm sorry. So sorry. I just thought—”

“You didn't think.”

“Rook, please.” Verity lost her grasp on her towel. She shivered, pressing her hands over her breasts. “This isn't easy. I just…you felt it in me. I'm frightened.”

“You said when you are with me, you are not scared.”

“I'm not, but I am. It can't happen, okay? It just can't. And I need you right now. I know you're angry, and you have every right to be. And maybe I don't want a tender hug or kiss, I want…”

He tugged her from the doorway and into the bedroom, where he turned her against the wall, her shoulders hitting it roughly. He kissed her. Hard. Without mercy.

He gripped her thigh and lifted her. Shuffling at his zipper, he then shimmied down his leather pants, and without even asking, pushed inside her with his steely cock. And it burned so good. Verity slammed her palms against the wall behind her, taking his hot, angry need into her.

“Trust me, Verity.”

“I want to.”

“I won't let you fall.”

He thrust deep, slowing his pace but not the intensity.

“I believe in you,” he said. “You are a witch. You are powerful.”

He was speaking to his past, to his dead wife's soul—to Verity. And she did trust him because he gave her everything he had without question.

Shouting as the orgasm shook his muscles, he crushed his body against hers. Verity wrapped her arms around his head as she held him there, his body shuddering. Their bodies joined in the truth.

But the real truth would be known in less than two days. Either she survived and surpassed the vampire taint or…her lover would be forced to end her life.

Chapter 19

“T
hat mansion is where Slater holds court.”

Rook pointed across the street and three buildings down from where he and King stood. Their location was on the outer side of the Peripherique road that circled Paris, within the outer edges of the Bois de Boulogne.

An anonymous note had been left on the windshield of Rook's car, which he'd parked in front of Verity's home. She did have vampire wards on her home, but Rook didn't trust that the tribe wouldn't find a way in. Certainly Slater had written the message, but perhaps a lackey delivered it. The tribe leader wanted to bring the war to his turf.

And he was using Verity as a pawn by luring Rook away from the one thing he most wanted to protect. So when Kaz Rothstein had arrived to post outside the witch's home, Rook had immediately left. He trusted Kaz. The knight was in love with his own witch—Zoë. He'd guard Verity's home as if it were his own.

“We get Clas,” King said. “We've got Slater.”

The war Slater had declared hadn't been the bloody battle Rook had expected. Instead, this more personal defensive move cut much deeper.

King slapped him on the back. “It all ends tonight. Who did you put on the witch's home?”

“Rothstein.”

“He'll keep watch over her.”

Rook knew that he would, yet the pinch of betrayal wouldn't allow him to accept that he'd left Verity in the hands of another man when he should be the one to stand guard over her.

King shrugged down against the wall to a squat. He was wearing full hunting gear, which surprised Rook. The last time they'd gone out, after a werewolf pack principal, King had worn dress slacks and a white shirt. He'd thought the man had forgotten how to hunt.

No. Hunting ran in their blood. They knew nothing else. It was simply easier for King to assume the different role aside from hunter.

Rook leaned against the wall, propping his feet out so he sat halfway down the wall, near King's shoulder.

“I'm not so sure about getting my soul back.”

King met his gaze, and for a moment they spoke to one another. This was a true confession. Handle it with care.

“You should be unsure,” King offered. “With a soul you'd become mortal. You'd age and die. Remember, you're not supposed to die before me. What would I do without my oldest and best friend?”

“I'd miss you, man. But don't you have days where you think it's been enough?”

“All the time. You know that. But what about your witch? If you become mortal, and she's immortal…”

“We'd still have many years together.”

And she had said something about not taking another source. Interesting. Dare he dream that shattered dream about loving and living and growing old together? Wisest not to. But difficult not to want to.

“I have never heard you talk about a woman in terms of years,” King said. “I couldn't imagine doing so. It's not normal. Not for us.”

Neither he nor King indulged in long-term relationships, though King was more prone to check in with his lovers, both mortal and immortal alike, over the decades. Rook had learned long ago never to keep strings hanging. The heart made the hunter weaker.

So if a vampire literally held his soul within a semblance of his heart? Hell.

“Verity mentioned she may not look for a source when it comes time to do so.”

“Interesting. So you two could, feasibly, grow old together.”

Rook tilted his head against the brick wall. “What's it like to have a soul? I can't remember.”

“Well, for one thing, you'd be much warmer than you are now.” King mocked a shudder. “And, I don't know, I think your capacity toward emotion would increase.”

“I can do emotion with the best of them.”

“It's Oz who does that for you.”

And do not forget it
.

“Soon, Oz,” Rook said.

“He getting anxious?”

“His baby is due within days. And you know how time is different in Faery.”

“So I've heard,” King commented. “I'd miss Oz, too.”

“I won't set him free until he promises he'll visit.”

I promise
.

“He promises.” Rook chuckled. It felt good to relax for a few seconds. But hunters never let down their guard.

He cast a glance around the corner, his eyes tracking the freshly paved narrow street to the opposite sidewalk clumped with overgrown weeds in need of clipping. The early nineteenth-century mansion they were watching was dark. And it was still before midnight. They didn't expect traffic until after the witching hour.

The moon was high and round but a sliver away from true fullness, which would come tomorrow night. He hated leaving Verity home with nothing to distract her from the blood hunger. It would only grow stronger. Which is why he was here right now. If she stayed at home, immersed in her spellbooks, as she had promised, that should keep her preoccupied.

He would not let the sun rise without staking Clas.

* * *

“I can't believe I missed this spell earlier.”

Verity trailed her finger down the page that had been scrawled in unfamiliar handwriting. It wasn't her mother's or great-grandmother Bluebell's. It almost looked masculine, but who could know? The history of the Von Veldes generally passed the grimoire from maternal head of the family to the next maternal head.

No matter. The spell was a tracking spell to be used to find missing objects. Such as a soul pulsing within a wooden heart?

She had to give it a try because if the spell worked, it would lead her to the vampire who had bitten her. Worst scenario? The vampire had dumped the necklace but the spell would still lead her to it, thus resulting in Rook getting what he needed most.

“One way or another, one of us is going to be happy. And it's going to happen tonight.”

Opening the little velvet-lined jewelry box she'd used to store the heart necklace in on occasion, she scraped the fine velvet weft off and onto the tinfoil she'd spread out on the spell table. She had already gathered comfrey, grave dirt, a newborn peahen's bone dust (she stocked up at the local witch's bazaar) and a fox's breath. She had everything that was required.

Now to make it work.

An hour later, the flames she set upon the emulsified ingredients flashed a sulfurous glow, then extinguished at her magical command.

Verity took the compass she'd dug out from the bottom of her mother's hope chest, which contained years of assorted treasures and collected ephemera, and pried off the back casing. The bespelled ashes fit nicely into the round brass cover. She packed them in with the tip of a spoon and then resealed the compass. The glass housing briefly glowed blue. If the spell worked, it would glow nonstop once she was near the intended object.

“Of course it will work. My magic…” Verity sighed. It would work. It had to.

She'd asked to find Rook's soul. The magnetic needle swung north.

“All right, then. I'm going out for a walk.”

Slipping on a long sweater over her soft jersey dress, down in the foyer she stepped into some ballet flats. Turning off the lights and remembering Rook had asked her to stay put until he returned, she opened the front door.

A tall man with spiky brown hair and an easy smile turned to block her exit with his broad shoulders. He wore Order gear.

“Evening, mademoiselle. I'm Kaz. You're not going anywhere, are you?”

“Uh…” She shook her head. And she recognized the name because one of her friends was dating a Kaz, who was also a hunter. “Does Zoë know you're at some strange witch's house so late at night?”

“Now don't make it sound like that. I'm doing as Rook commanded. So get back inside. And—hey!”

He put up a hand when Verity lifted hers, intending to brew up some fire.

“No magic,” he said firmly. He turned his wrist toward her to show the small pentacle tattooed there.

Verity pouted. “No fair.” She slammed the door on him and marched down the hallway. “A tattoo against magic? Not a stupid hunter. I'm going to give Zoë hell for that one.”

With a new tactic springing to mind, she scampered into the living room and stood before the window overlooking the back courtyard. It would be too easy to slip out the back way. But she would never question an easy option.

Kaz's head popped around the corner of the house. He waved at her. That sexy smile must have knocked Zoë off her feet the first time she'd met him. Again, no fair wielding the charm weapon.

Verity stuck out her tongue at him.

He was only one man. Albeit a skilled hunter who was warded against witch magic.

When she spied the calico tail snaking through the garden, Verity let out a whispered blurt of glee.

“Perfect timing, Thomas.”

* * *

Cats pride themselves on their stealthy sneak. Thomas was a master at pussyfooting quietly through the night. He could follow a human for miles, always no farther than ten feet behind them, and they'd never be the wiser.

Verity had been too excited to see him at first. After showing him her fridge—empty—and dramatically pleading hunger, she'd then explained the hunter posted out on her front step was a precaution from the Order. She was under house arrest because she'd been seen on the Order's security cameras when Rook had clandestinely led her in to view some mug shots.

She wouldn't be long. But she was so hungry. And the hunter wasn't budging.

When Thomas had suggested she order pizza, she had pouted. Prettily. Damn, but he fell for the pout every time.

So he'd led the hunter into the back courtyard and all around until he'd lost his balance and landed in the stinging nettles. A five-minute distraction was all Verity had requested.

For some reason, he felt it best if he kept a close eye on Verity tonight. She'd been acting strange. The moon grew full tomorrow night. And that worried him. If she was going out to scam for blood, he'd have to bring out the big claws to stop her.

* * *

The compass led from her neighborhood, across the Seine on the Pont de Bir-Hakeim, and toward the city park. Beyond the Peripherique, Verity entered the massive forested park in an older neighborhood with grand mansions that had been built in the nineteenth century. Many were unoccupied, their dark windows either broken or boarded over.

The compass glass glowed, but not as bright as originally. She was close. Had to be.

Down a long street, a right turn and then another, she had the sneaking suspicion she was being followed. The hunter? Always that possibility. Thomas had managed to distract him long enough for her escape. And she'd worn flats so she could run those few minutes. Yet whenever she suddenly turned around, there was nobody.

“I'm creeping myself out,” she muttered. “I need food to take the edge off. Something…”

A hunger pang clutched at her gut, bending her in half. Verity gripped an iron fence that gathered in overgrown climbing moon flowers before an ancient mansion. Her mouth was dry. She craved liquid.

She craved what she didn't want to crave.

Fingers shaking, she clenched the compass. The glass casing glowed brightly and the arrow pointed to her right, beyond the iron fence.

“This has to be the place.”

A small yellow glow beamed from one of the long, tall windows, which she assumed must front a grand ballroom. If she knocked on the door and a friendly old human couple answered, then what?

Then my spellcraft needs practice
.

Tucking the compass in her pocket, she turned and walked right into the tight embrace of a man she hadn't seen in months.

“Slater.”

“The strays always return,” he said. “And so close to the full moon. Hungry, sweetie?”

She struggled, but his grip pinched her arms painfully, and before she could scream, Slater's fist met her jaw and knocked her unconscious.

* * *

Around the corner and across the street, three houses down from the mansion, Rook stretched his legs and asked King if he was ready to go inside.

King checked the stake at his hip. “Ready to rock.”

They turned, but both men dropped their jaws at the sight of the naked man rushing toward them.