Blood Sin (13 page)

“Go back to your own room,” he advised. “You’re tired.”

He opened and closed the bedroom door so quickly that it would have been a blur to Nicola, if she could see through her outrage. Saloman didn’t much care. At the other end of the passage, Elizabeth walked the last few paces to her room, her shoulders drooping as if with defeat.

Saloman ran after her and, when she opened the door, slipped past her to stand by the window in the lamp’s shadow. A boy’s trick, but it did no harm to remind her of his power. And it gave him ample opportunity to watch the play of expressions across her face—shock and fear, relief, and then fear again, all mixed up now with the emotions she refused to give in to. Saloman wanted to make her acknowledge them; he wanted to throw her on the bed and lose himself in her heat and softness.

“Never lurk outside a vampire’s door,” he said mildly. “It’s taken as an invitation.”

She swallowed. “Good,” she said, closing the door behind her and leaning on it. “I need to talk to you. There’s a sword here. It’s been in Josh’s family for generations and I think it’s yours.”

Saloman waited.

“Is it?” she snapped, with a hint of impatience.

“Of course it is.”

“And that’s why you’re here? To take the sword?”

“I told you there were many reasons. I even recited some of them.”

“You missed Nicola.”

He admired the dry tone she managed, mixed even with a hint of humor. If it weren’t for the pain in her lovely, too-open hazel eyes, he might even have believed her.

He walked toward her, soaking up the alarm in her face, the stiffening of her shoulders as she prepared to resist him. But he didn’t touch her, merely halted a foot from her.

“What’s the matter? Did you think because you sent me away I should remain celibate for the rest of my very long life? Or at least for the length of yours?”

She stared at him an instant longer, before her eyelids closed, hiding the pain. “I have no right to expect or to ask anything of you. But I need to know about the sword.”

“It’s mine. That’s all you need to know.”

“How dangerous is it?”

“You know.”

Her eyelids snapped up again, revealing wide-eyed indignation. Slowly, he reached out and took both her hands. They jumped in his, as if she’d pull them free; then she was still, letting him turn the palms upward and gaze on the raw, red skin. Tsigana’s blood flowing in her veins healed her quickly, and yet she must still have hurt.

He lifted her right hand to his lips and kissed the palm, running his tongue delicately across the injured skin. It was good to taste her again, to inhale the scent of lemon flowers and vanilla and something intangible that was peculiarly Elizabeth.

She gasped, tugging away from him once more, but he held her firm and took the first injured finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the burned tip.

“I don’t need your help!” she raged.

He released her finger and turned to the next. “Yes, you do. You’re already angry that I didn’t offer it earlier. For what it’s worth, I thought you’d come to my room to ask.”

“Then it’s fortunate I didn’t, since you were otherwise engaged!” She bit her lip, obviously angry with herself.

Saloman smiled around her third finger, then licked the fourth. He could hear her heart pounding, took pleasure in watching the rapid rise and fall of her breasts under the sweater that should have looked ridiculous with her evening gown and yet didn’t. He could smell her sweet, heady blood, wanted to draw it into his own watering mouth. He contented himself with licking her skin.

Without releasing her right hand, he lowered it and raised the left instead. The burns were less severe here; only her fingertips seemed damaged and a tiny patch on the base of her wrist.

“Nicola,” she said, gasping, as if trying to focus on something other than his mouth. He twisted his tongue around her middle finger, licking far more than the injured spot, and sucked it into his mouth before releasing it.

“What about her?” he asked without interest.

“She’s besotted with you. I saw it in her face. Let her go; don’t hurt her.”

Saloman smiled and closed her fists. “Don’t worry about Nicola. Dante hired her to spy on me.”

He loved the way her lips parted in shock. He wanted to kiss them, pull her so close against him that he could feel those beautiful breasts pressing into his chest. He wanted to lay her on the bed and undress her with exquisite care before seducing her and fucking her and biting her to pliant, willing insanity.

So when he felt the drifting of the sword, he didn’t move.

The sword had been in a downstairs room when Elizabeth had touched it. A little later, it had been moved, but not very far. Now Saloman could feel the distance between him and it increasing.

“Dante? Why would Dante spy on you?” Elizabeth demanded.

“To find out my next move. Adam’s next move.”

“And Nicola . . . Why don’t you just send her away?”

“Because I might get hungry.”

“Stop it!” She dragged her hands free and tried to push past him, but he wouldn’t let her, just stood immovably in her path until she gave up. “Something’s off about Dante. He knows too much, believes too much of this stuff, and his friends are like some sort of cult. Does he know about you?”

“Not yet.” Saloman considered. “But you’re right. Dante is a most interesting person. He has incredible power, in the human sense of the word. All the power of money and success, of political and social connections. Some people say he’s the most powerful man in the world because he holds sway over the president of the United States. Whichever happens to be in office.”

“Then what’s he doing here? What does he want? Apart from your sword.”

“That’s what I’d like to know.” Saloman’s sensitive ears picked up a car starting in the distance and then the sword began to fade fast from his senses. Instinctively, he stepped past Elizabeth to the door and laid his fingers on the handle. The sword was being stolen, which suited him just fine. He could catch whoever it was on the road and retrieve it and no one would ever connect it with Adam Simon.

“Saloman.” The quick, desperate word was wrung from her, forcing him to turn. She looked so beautiful and so lost that his heart seemed to break all over again. “I thought it would be different,” she whispered. “I used to dream of meeting you again, some chance encounter that would give each of us a moment of happiness. I never thought—”

She broke off and turned away from him. The sword was disappearing into the misty night. He could barely maintain the connection.

He said, “You never thought what?” He closed the distance between them, turning her back to face him. “That things between us would not be exactly as they were when we parted? That life would not have moved on?”

She closed her eyes, as if she could thus hide the tear squeezing out of one corner. Saloman took her face between his hands, brushed the tear with his thumb. “You have to live with the decisions you make. Pain does not invalidate them.”

“I know. I was prepared for pain, just not . . .”
Jealousy.
The word hovered between them, unspoken. “Indifference,” she finished.

Saloman listened to the beat of his own heart. It was much slower than hers, and yet for several moments, they seemed to beat in perfect time. Because he couldn’t help it, he brushed his lips across her smooth forehead, inhaled the perfume of her skin and her hair. He knew he could take her now, bury himself in her soft, passionate body until dawn, granting release and joy to them both. He ached for it, burned for it with an intensity that drove him nearer, pressing into the sweet contours of her body.

“There was never indifference,” he said low. Her eyes opened wide, staring deep into his with yearning and blind, powerful lust. Oh, yes, he could take her, thrust into her now before their bodies even hit the bed and she’d wrap herself around him and pull him in with rapture.

But it would change nothing.

Her gaze dropped to his lips. He smiled, because he couldn’t trust himself to kiss her and still leave her. But not for the first time, she surprised him. She stood on tiptoe and kissed him, just as she had the instant after trying to kill him, the instant before she confessed to loving him.

But that had been a kiss of desperation, a spontaneous outpouring of emotion. This was one of hot, blatant seduction. Her lips brushed his and fastened fiercely. Her tongue swept into his mouth, as if trying to absorb all of him. She sucked on his tongue until he snapped and took control, bending her backward with the force of his lust, plundering her mouth as his hands possessed her body, roving over her breasts and hips and thighs.

His robe came undone with her writhing and she moaned into his mouth as her hands encountered his naked flesh. She was his, as she’d always been his.

And his fucking her would not make her happy. Not for longer than the fucking lasted.

He straightened, drawing her with him, still kissing her, but more slowly now, until he could part their mouths and give her air.

Gently, he laid his forehead against hers. “Even valid decisions can be changed.”

She stared into his eyes, hope and temptation chasing each other across her expressive face. Slowly, longing gave way to the determination he’d seen all too often before.

She swallowed and stepped out of his arms. “Only for valid reasons.”

Saloman inclined his head. Whatever conclusion she reached, at least she would think again about their parting.

And his sword, damn it to hell, had gone well beyond his tracking range. “You’ll excuse me,” he murmured, walking across the room to the window and pulling back the curtains, “if I use the alternative exit.”

“Why? Are you leaving?” she asked, bewildered.

“I’m hunting,” he said, opening the casement wide and leaping onto the sill.

“Saloman,” she began warningly, then seemed to run out of words. Saloman launched himself through the window into the cool night air. Before his feet touched the ground, he was running in the direction he’d last sensed the sword.

“Can’t I even give you breakfast before you leave?” Dante pleaded.

“No, thank you,” Josh replied, still with that grimness he’d used last night after the sword incident. “Just the sword. We need to get going.”

Josh had roused her so early that she felt she’d never been asleep. She’d lain awake for hours, listening for any sounds that might indicate Saloman had come back to the house. She knew she should be anxious about whatever or whoever he was hunting out there, but in reality she was just pleased he wasn’t going after anyone she knew. Like Josh. Or Nicola. And selfishly, secretly, she wanted to sleep under the same roof as Saloman, wallowing in the heady mixture of excitement and perverse security his presence always brought her.

And now, as Dante led the way upstairs to a study where he said the safe was, she became conscious of even more conflicting emotions. She was both glad and sorry to be leaving here early, before she encountered Saloman again—or worse, Saloman with Nicola, whom he’d accused of spying for Dante.

Just inside the door of the study, Dante stopped dead. Josh actually bumped into him before apologizing with a hint of irritation.

“That’s weird,” Dante said, striding across the room. “The door’s open.”

Following them in, Elizabeth saw that the door of a large safe stood wide-open.

Dante almost fell to his knees, rummaging inside. “My God,” he said in tones of disbelief. “It’s gone! I’ve been robbed. . . .”

“What’s gone?” Josh demanded harshly. “Where’s my sword?”

“Gone.” Dante sat back on his heels. “It’s gone, Josh. Along with my goblet.”

“Impossible!” Josh exclaimed. “Who could possibly have stolen them? This isn’t New York City! There isn’t even a village here! Who the hell would rob you?”

Who the hell, indeed?

Quietly, Elizabeth slipped out of the room and hastened along the passage to the stairs. Her heart drummed like a rabbit’s as she ran up and along the hallway to Saloman’s room. This time, uncaring whether Nicola was there, she entered without knocking.

“Come in,” said Saloman’s deep voice in some amusement.

Although the curtains still shut out the bright, early morning sunshine, there was more than enough light for her to appreciate the sight of him lying on top of his bed like some large, predatory cat, watching her with one hand tucked behind his head. At least he wore more than last night’s black silk robe. In fact, apart from socks, he appeared to be fully dressed in black trousers and a loose-sleeved shirt.

Elizabeth, ignoring the leap of lust in her stomach, swung the door closed behind her. “You took it, didn’t you?” she said without preamble.

“Took what?”

“Josh’s sword!”

“You mean my sword.” He crossed his legs, acknowledging her irritation only by a faint twitch of his lips. “Actually, I didn’t. Someone made off with it while I was talking to you. By the time I, er, gave chase, it was too far away. I couldn’t track it.”

There was no way to be sure he was telling the truth. Except that he generally disdained to lie.

Slowly, she sank down on the bed beside him. “Really?”

“Really.” His black, opaque eyes gazed steadily into hers. Just looking at him made her heart turn over. In the half-light he seemed more beautiful than ever, his dramatic black hair tumbled around his almost-sculpted face with its broad bones and shadowed hollows. Without even raising his head from the pillow, he managed to look sexier than any other man she’d ever seen, on- or offscreen.

Trying to focus, she said, “Then who did take it? Where is it?”

“I haven’t a clue,” he confessed.

She frowned. “Aren’t you angry?”

“I think your Josh is angry enough for all of us.”

“I think he suspects Dante himself.”

“He’s almost certainly right.” Saloman sat up with one of his sudden, graceful movements and swung his legs off the bed. Elizabeth sprang to her feet to avoid being too close to him. She wanted to hold him too much, was afraid to get too near him.

“I’ve got to go,” she muttered, almost running toward the door, where she paused and turned. “Saloman? You won’t hurt Josh, will you?”