Harlequin Nocturne September 2014 Bundle: Beyond the Moon\Immortal Obsession (22 page)

Verity's arms were secured behind her back, yet her ankles were free. He could smell the gasoline. Candlelight glinted in the liquid.

The scent of burning flesh returned to Rook's senses, acrid and so horrible. Her long wavy reddish-brown hair had ignited so quickly, enflamed around her screams.

Rook's jaw dropped open. He sensed King enter the room, and his friend swore when he took in the sight.

“I was wondering how long it would take the Order to arrive!” the vampire who stood beside the trussed witch called. “Come in. Make yourselves comfortable. We have an amazing show planned for one and all. The Demon Arts Troupe will be so envious.”

Exchanging glances with King, Rook assumed control, and King nodded confirmation. They would not rush them until they knew exactly what they were dealing with. Only two vampires in the room? If Slater had been waiting for them, he would have planned many more for defense.

But could he walk forward and stand before Verity when his soul had been blackened by his greedy desires?

He didn't have a soul. And he must never take it back.

No, please
.

I will handle this, Oz. Stay out of the way.

His eyes taking in the walls and the ceiling and noting the balcony on the opposite side of the massive ballroom, Rook stepped carefully forward. The balcony was dark, but he determined that others must hide behind the dusty velvet curtains, waiting for their tribe leader's command.

Verity struggled as he approached. She was not gagged, but she didn't call out.

The asshole vampire had poured gasoline around the fire witch in a wide circle. And yet, there, immediately around her feet and the column he'd tied her to, was another circle of gas, a replacement for the fagots that Rook had once watched burn his wife to cinders.

“Marianne,” he whispered.

Stay in the present. Do not go back there. Not if you want to save the witch this time.

This time? It was happening again. Was he to witness another woman he loved burn?

“You looking for one of my tribe members?” Slater asked.

Rook lifted his head to meet Verity's eyes. She was frightened, and he didn't need to lay his palm over her chest to know that. But she was also worried. About him? She knew too much. And she knew all that she must to be a part of his world.

Stand strong, man
.

Rook lifted his chin and exhaled. Tightening his fists and twisting his neck to stretch out the corded muscles, he nodded. No flames yet. He wouldn't allow that to happen.

If Rook could consider himself placed at the north point of the outer circle, just a few feet from the gasoline ring, King stood to the west, Slater to the east and another behemoth vampire at the south.

“Where is Clas Dehrer?” Rook asked calmly.

“Why him?” Slater asked, spreading his hands out in front of him. “What has my second in command done to attract the illustrious attention of the Order of the Stake?”

“All of Zmaj has been killing recklessly,” Rook said. “You didn't think you could take innocent human lives without consequences, did you?”

“Consequences?” Slater mocked a shudder. “Are you going to punish me? Spank me for my transgressions?”

Rook's fist tightened around the stake. The longer he allowed a vampire to monologue, the more confident he grew and the more of his troops he could gather.

“I rather like Clas, idiot that he can be at times. I have another trade for you,” Slater said. “Want to deal?”

Rook noted King took a step to the left. He kept his eye on the balcony and the behemoth.

“No deals.”

“Not even if it returns her to you?”

“I'll walk out of here with Verity in hand and you in a pile of ash,” Rook promised.

“Cocky hunter.” Slater produced a Bic lighter and snapped the silver lid open. “The deal is, the Order looks away from Zmaj's philanderings and I'll let her live.”

“I made a deal for a woman once,” Rook said. His heart clenched with memory. The ax had been sharp, but he'd had to cut through her neck three times to finally behead her and give her peace. “I'll never do it again.”

“Very well.” Slater flicked the lighter's steel wheel. Flame shot up.

“You won't kill her. You want to watch her transform to vampire,” Rook tried.

Slater's brow arched. The villainous vamp smirked. And he tossed the flaming lighter toward the outer ring of gasoline.

Chapter 21

R
ook's heart stopped beating. Flames
blurred his vision. Smoke tainted the air. The screams he'd once listened to for
so long he'd thought surely he'd go mad echoed up from the past and raged at
him.

After all Marianne had done to orchestrate bringing him to the
witch and allowing them to share their sorrows, to know that only they two were
meant for one another, would that all slip away in the flash of flame and
gasoline?

His knees weakened. He saw himself—Giles Martin
Rochfeaux—falling to his knees, struggling against the vampires who had held him
before the pyre, forcing up his chin to make him witness his wife's gruesome
death.

Yet Rook remained standing. The hardened knight who had
abandoned emotion when he'd sacrificed his soul to the devil Himself no longer
existed. The hunter would not allow the dark evils he had fought for centuries
to destroy his happiness.

Rook felt a cool clench of terror climb up his spine. It was
accompanied by the shuffle of feet as the creatures shrouded in shadow landed on
the ballroom floor. Vampires jumped from the balcony, landing in a crouch or a
walk. They crowded up behind Slater and the big one who had been acting as
guard. Two dozen, he counted.

But no sign of Clas.

Rook sought his partner through the mire. King raised an
eyebrow but also tossed him a wink. They could handle these odds. Been there,
done that, ashed them all.

The flames were still far from Verity, but he mustn't delay.
Rushing toward the circle, Rook saw a vampire come at him. A warrior's cry
barreled up from his lungs, and he swung the stake through bone and muscle, his
fist meeting resistance only so long as it took for the longtooth to ash.

He spun, meeting two vampires with a high roundhouse kick, body
twisting in midair and landing on his feet. Both vamps went down but only to
allow their cohorts a chance at him. He flashed a look toward the center of the
flaming circle.

Verity watched with pleading eyes.

He leaped over the flames and was slammed midair by a vampire
who collided with his back. They went down within the flaming circle, wrestling
for control. Pinching the nerve at the vampire's collarbone surprised his
opponent, who swore and then dropped. Unconscious, but only for a few
moments.

While King went at the vampires outside the circle, Rook
crawled over to Verity. He wanted to embrace her, to kiss her, to whisper that
it was all going to be all right. And it would be. But not with vampires running
amuck.

He dug out a blade from his boot and sawed it through the ropes
around her wrists.

“Rook, look out!”

Expecting a vampire to jump onto his back, Rook spun to see
flame following the thin line of gasoline up to the second circle. It ignited
the gasoline around Verity's feet. He stomped at it to no avail.

Verity screamed and stepped from foot to foot, but she couldn't
avoid the flames, which licked at her flat shoes. He managed to cut through the
thick rope and free her hands. Rook pulled off his coat and placed it on her
shoulders. He lifted her, feeling the flames lick his leather pants. Jumping and
stomping at the flame, he rushed the outer circle and leaped over it.

He landed in a wobble and went to the floor, turning to hit
with his hip and shoulder as he kept Verity safely to his chest to avoid the
impact. He rolled over on top of her. A quick kiss was necessary. She tasted
like fear and ash.

“Get out of here. Go downstairs. Stay away from the vamps.”

“But Slater is hiding somewhere.”

He'd forgotten about that bastard. “Over by the door then. Stay
within my eyesight. I'll handle Slater.”

A vampire gripped him by the back of the Kevlar vest and tugged
him up to his feet. Verity scrambled away. A beefy arm wrapped around Rook's
neck, jerking his head back painfully. He kicked and pushed them both to the
floor.

Above and behind him, he saw the chandelier fall. Vampires
yelped. King held the small crossbow he'd had fashioned centuries ago. Good
shot. That would keep down the handful of vampires trapped beneath it in the
flames for a while. Down, but not dead.

Elbowing his aggressor, Rook managed to free himself and
twisted to stake the longtooth. He turned to see Verity—in Slater's grasp.

* * *

What caught Verity's attention was not her rescuing knight, but
the slick lines of gasoline that glittered with reflected flame. The entire
ballroom was crisscrossed with the fuel. As the fire circles blazed, slowly they
began to feed into the lines radiating out from the center. It would be only
moments before fire again threatened her.

With one arm banded across her chest, the vampire held her with
ease. Reaching inside his pants pocket, Slater pulled out something.

“I've got one more trick in tonight's performance,” Slater
announced.

He gripped the back of Verity's hair and yanked her head up so
she had no choice but to look at Rook. Her rescuing knight, who had fallen to
his knees to see her tied in the center of the flames. She wished he had never
seen such a thing. Twice.

Slater smelled…different. Some tangy note clanged at his
unmanly sweet scent. Beside her cheek, he dangled the little wooden heart, which
held Rook's soul and Oz's release.

“Choose,” the vampire called.

Verity's vision was blocked by the wooden heart. She wanted to
look into Rook's eyes and tell him it was okay. Choose the soul. For in doing
so, he would save two people: him and Oz. She wasn't going to die. Slater wanted
to keep her, to watch her transform. She would hate that, but she could escape
from his clutches. Somehow.

“Such a dilemma,” Slater said.

“Not really.” Rook glanced again to King.

Verity knew the hunters communicated on a level they had forged
over the centuries. They couldn't read each other's minds, but they had probably
developed some nifty silent signals.

Rook announced, “I'm sorry, Oz. No deal!”

Slater squeezed the heart in his palm. “Then take him out,
men.”

The remaining tribe members rushed Rook from behind.

“No!” she shouted.

Yet she had the sense to fill her hands with flames. Slater
held her at the shoulders and chest, and she couldn't move her arms around to
touch him and ignite his clothing.

“You think I didn't have some of that flame retardant you used
to rub on your skin before a show? I'm not stupid, witch.”

Now she recognized the lemon thyme behind the obnoxious
lavender.

Rook fought two vampires. He kicked high, clocking one on the
jaw. The other grabbed his leg while it was still in the air and shoved, sending
him to the floor and sliding close to Verity's feet. He twisted into a crouch
and stabbed the stake into Slater's shoe.

The vampire yelped and softened his clasp on Verity enough so
that she could slip free. Before she could move away from him, the vampire
grabbed her by the hair, jerking it so she rebounded against his chest. He
dragged her toward the fire.

Rook followed cautiously, stakes in both hands, his eyes
darting from Verity to the melee that King handled alone.

All of a sudden Verity smelled blood. And felt the hot drip of
it splatter her cheek. Slater had bitten into his wrist and held it to her
face.

“Just one taste,” Slater said, “and she's mine.”

Goddess, it smelled so good. And she could feel the droplet
sliding closer to the corner of her mouth. Verity released the fire from her
hands and dropped them slack at her sides. Slater's arm around her neck banded
her tightly to his chest. The blood glistened in the flickering glow of the
fire.

Rook held out the stakes, then made a show of shoving them in
the holsters at his hips. “Let her go.”

Verity dashed her tongue out but couldn't quite taste the hot
liquid.

“Give it up,” Slater replied. “She's mine. What does a hunter
want with a vampiress?”

“She has another twenty-four hours,” Rook said. “I won't let
her succumb.”

Slater smeared his wrist across Verity's lips. “Time's up.”

Verity compressed her lips in an attempt not to taste the
blood. She wanted to—oh, but she needed to satisfy the relentless craving…

“Don't do it, Verity,” Rook pleaded. “I promised you. Remember?
I'll always stand by you, no matter what.”

He'd promised he'd stay with her beyond the moon. Whether she
was just a witch or a witch who was also a vampire. And she believed him. She
loved him.

He was the man she had learned to trust.

Pressing her back into Slater's chest, she felt the hard,
heart-shaped object in his pocket nudge her shoulder blade. The blood scent was
sweet, thick. It would taste better than a Ladurée macaron nestled in a pretty
pastel box.

“Open your mouth,” Slater hissed. “Enough of the big sad eyes
from the boyfriend. You're mine, witch.”

The vampire shoved his wrist against her mouth. Her lips
stretched over her teeth.

Verity felt Rook's hand slam into her chest and push her and
Slater backward. They stumbled, and Slater's wrist slipped from her mouth. Her
lips parted. She bit her tongue as she landed on the vampire in a sprawl on the
floor near the flames.

A rough shove from two hands rolled her off her captor. Rook
knelt over the vampire and plunged the stake into his chest. Ash dusted the
air.

Heartbeats thundering in her ears, Verity blinked heavy tears.
They dropped to her cheeks and rolled downward. The vampire's blood pooled at
the corner of her mouth.

Rook's body plunged onto hers. He roughly wiped at her lips,
smearing her skin. “No,” he said. “Not going to let you succumb. Keep your mouth
closed, Verity.”

She saw the vampire lunging at Rook from behind. Just when she
wanted to yell in warning, instead, she stretched up an arm and blasted the
vampire with fire. The fireball hit the longtooth in the chest and barreled him
through the air to land as a pile of ash before King, who had wielded the stake
that burst his chest.

“I can't get it all off,” Rook said. He licked his fingers and
smeared them around her mouth. And then he dashed his tongue across her lips.
She didn't kiss him. He was cleaning away the vampire's blood, freeing her…

And when he did kiss her, it was quick and rough, yet she felt
his need to keep her safe in that embrace. And—

—she tasted pennies on her tongue.

“I think you're good now. Only a few more left,” he said. “Stay
here. Don't move.”

She nodded.

Beside her, a pile of ash and clothing made her smile. Slater
was gone.

Yet in her mouth she tasted blood. Rook hadn't removed it all.
When he'd kissed her, he had unknowingly impressed traces of Slater's blood. It
tasted dusty, and a spark of satisfaction scurried within.

Great Hecate. She had consumed blood.

* * *

“There he is!” King pointed toward the open doorway.

A bald vampire dashed out of the room. Rook raced after him.
The vampire trammeled down the curving stairs toward the foyer.

Rook ran toward the balcony railing and leaped over and into a
free fall. He couldn't see much in the darkened foyer below, but he did know the
landing was going to hurt like hell. Unless he landed on something with
cushioning.

Which he managed nicely. Colliding with Clas, they went down on
the floor, the vampire swearing and Rook's bones jarring enough to make him
reconsider flight ever again. His spine shifted, and his elbow popped, but the
vampire who wrestled beneath him didn't care that his attacker was fighting
excruciating pain.

Reaching for the stake at his hip—it wasn't there—Rook's hands
reactively went to the vampire's throat. Choking wouldn't kill an immortal
creature. And the beast was a brute, stronger than Rook, even with Oz inside him
bolstering his strength. A boot heel hit him soundly in the spine, and he
released the vamp long enough for it to scramble free.

Above them, King shouted down. “All dust in there!” His boots
scrambled down the staircase. “And turning into a raging blaze.”

Clas got free from Rook, and he swiped for his boot but
couldn't catch him. Springing to his feet, Rook turned in time to see King
wrangle the vamp's arms behind his back.

“He's yours,” King said. “Take back the witch's life.”

Stalking up to the struggling vampire, the creature calmed and
sneered at him. He hadn't any stakes. And the garrote and holy water wouldn't
get him far. But he didn't need either.

If a witch could do it, so could he.

“You thought she was dead?” he asked the longtooth.

Clas growled. “Stupid witch. You got in the way. Took something
you wanted though, eh? Two somethings you want. The girl and the soul. Ha!”

“The girl is still mine,” Rook said. “I don't care about the
soul.”

“Liar.”

Yeah, well, he wasn't going to give the vampire the
satisfaction.

“This is for Verity,” Rook said, pressing his hands together
before his chest. “Namaste, motherfucker.”

He made a spade of his fingers and shoved them into the
vampire's chest. It wasn't an easy task, but the force with which he thrust up
his arms punctured skin and muscle and slid between ribs. The heart pulsed
slippery against his squeezed fingertips. Gritting his teeth and shoving harder,
he pierced the heart muscle and tore out whatever slippery chunks he could grasp
through the rib cage.

Flicking his hand out to shed the vampire's tattered heart,
Rook stepped back. King dropped the vampire, which spasmed and screamed. Dust
clouded the air.