Malice in Wonderland (15 page)

Knight stepped toward the tall, gallant vampire until the two were maybe three inches apart. Apparently sensing Knight behind him, Bram turned around slowly. Knight was fuming and Bram seemed slightly ill at ease, which was no surprise, given that he had an incensed Loki staring him down.

"If you so much as lay one finger on her, you'll have me to answer to," Knight sneered. "No, scratch that, if you
so
much as look at her with anything other than respect, I’ll make sure you regret it. Got it?"

"Affirmative," Bram answered acidly.

"I don't trust you and I don't like this arrangement one bit. I'm counting on you to keep
Dulcie
safe and I don't want her to have to worry about trying to fend off your advances on top of everything else we have going on."

"Knight,
it's
f
ine. I can take care of myself,
" I started, although neither one seemed to hear me.

"As I understand, you no longer have any claim on our Sweet?" Bram teased, egging Knight on.

Knight was about to say something, but his words seemed to dissolve on his tongue. As for me, I was shocked because I didn’t know how Bram could have found out about Knight's and my falling out. I guess it came down to bad news traveling fast. One thing I could say about Bram was that he was a nosy bastard. He made it his business to know everyone else's.

"
Dulcie's
and my relationship isn't any of your concern," Knight said at last, taking the final step separating them until they were nose to nose. "Touch her and you won't be happy with the consequences."

Bram stepped away from Knight and narrowed his eyes at the larger man before turning to face me, a false smile of bravado pasted across his handsome face. "My goodness, it seems your caveman has snapped his tether."

"Take that as a warning, Bram," Knight continued before turning to face me again. "If you need anything, call me,
Dulcie
." Then, addressing Bram again, he added, "I want her room in the most remote section of this house. There should be more than one exit point; and I want a guard posted outside her door, day and night." He took a big breath. "Her door should not only lock from the inside, but also have a deadbolt. I'll send Sam over to charm the place and make sure it's as safe as it can be."

"No need, my good sir," Bram answered. "My entire home and estate have already received the benefit of multiple witches’ charms."

"I don't care. I'm only interested in
Dulcie's
safety."

Bram frowned. "Sweet's bedchamber has been charmed three times by three different witches to ensure its safety." It was Bram's turn to narrow his eyes and assume the role of someone ticked off. "I believe the sky is the limit when
Dulcie's
safety is concerned."

"Okay, I've had enough of this now," I barked out, holding my head because it was beginning to throb. I'd have to magic the pain away as soon as Knight left. But at the thought of him leaving, I felt my stomach drop. "Where are you going to go?" I asked in a shaky voice as I again realized he was as much of a walking target as I.

"I don't know," he answered simply. "But I do know that you need to save your strength for whatever Christina has planned. I have a feeling it's going to be something big that will have to come together quickly."

I simply nodded before I approached him. "Be careful, Knight."

He seemed surprised by the worry in my voice, but simply smiled down at me. "I will." Then he started for the portal again, turning with one final boyish grin. "I'll see you soon,
Dulce
." I watched him study Bram purposefully, his eyes issuing a silent warning before he turned toward the portal and vanished.

With a new sense of niggling worry in my gut, I faced Bram, intent on making him understand that Knight's warnings wer
e legitimate. "Don't think
I'm going to grant you any sexual favors just because I'm staying under your roof. My coming here is only as a last resort and I don't want you to turn it into an opportunity
to benefit yourself
."

"Sweet, you cut me to the core," he said in mock offense, dramatically bringing his hand up to his heart. "Although I might remind you that you still have yet to deliver on your end of our agreement."

I rolled my eyes just as I realized the truth in his statement. Our "agreement" was comprised of Bram's list of demands which he'd created in exchange for serving as my guide to the Netherworld. My part of the agreement, which I still hadn't upheld, amounted to five dinner dates. Hades
be
damned.

"Perhaps you do not recall the stipulations regarding our agreement?"

"No, Bram, I haven't forgotten," I started, still shaking my head at the injustice of it all. I mean, I was just so exhausted and the thought that I could relax, at least for one evening, had been music to my ears.
Music that had now soured.

"I shall enlighten you regardless," he said, holding his chin up high as if he were an orator about to captivate his audience. "You consented to dine with me five separate times upon our return from the Netherworld. If you also recall, I stipulated that each of those occasions would require that you dress in something no longer than three inches above your knees. Furthermore, the upper garment, blouse or the northern end of your gown must plunge into a very low
“V”
, thereby fully displaying your breasts, thereby permitting me to appreciate your ... assets."

"Obviously you aren't taking Knight's warning seriously," I muttered, irritated because I knew he had me. We
did
have
an agreement and I still hadn’t held up my end of it
.

"I care not for the Loki, much less his silly warning." He paused for a few seconds before a villainous smile took hold of his entire face. "All I do care about,
Dulcie
sweet,
is our dinner this evening. I will escort you to your accommodations, where you will find a suitable gown hanging in the closet." He sighed deeply as he studied me, clicking his tongue against his teeth in apparent appreciation. "Until then, I must leave you as I have some personal business to attend to." Without pulling his gaze away from me, he added, "I will send for you in three hours."

"Didn't Christina tell you I needed my rest also?" I muttered, even though I started following him out of the room.

"Yes, of course, my dear; and you would do well to enjoy your brief respite now as you and I have an evening engagement awaiting us."

"You're impossible to argue with," I grumbled.

"Yes, I am quite aware,
sweet
, so why even start?"

And that was the twenty million dollar question.

ELEVEN

Just as I'd expected, the "gown" Bram had so generously donated wasn't exactly to my taste. As I stood in front of the full-length mirror in my makeshift accommodations, heat was already warming my cheeks. And it wasn't the type of heat that comes with gratitude or excitement. Nope, this heat was completely dedicated to the fact that I was mortified over being seen in the horrid thing but, more so, that I was pissed off Bram had the gall to expect me to wear it in the first place!

I gritted my teeth as I faced myself, almost not believing my own eyes. For one thing, the dress was cut in a low "V" just as Bram had promised, although he hadn't been very forthcoming with just how low "low" was. This thing plunged clear down to my navel and the "straps" coming back up barely covered either of my nipples, let alone my breasts. Unfortunately, I could clearly see the swell of both sides of my breasts beneath the narrow strips of gold fabric. The way the material shimmied against my skin, I had a feeling it wouldn't be very good at staying put over both of my nipples, which was probably exactly as Bram intended. I tied the two straps behind my neck as tightly as I could, hoping and praying I could somehow secure the fabric tightly enough to where there was very little, if any, wiggle room.

As to the rest of the catastrophe known as Bram's taste in women's clothing—the "gown" was short, just as Bram had instructed in his original list of demands. The fabric dusted the tops of my thighs and bending over was completely out of the question. The gold of the dress matched the honey gold of my hair as well as the room perfectly. Yes, the entirety of my room was "gilt" with dark gold chenille wallpaper meeting hardwood floors that were almost a yellow gold. The floral pattern of the drapes was in hues of yellow and orange curlicues while the molding along the ceiling looked as if it were actually made from gold—especially how it reflected in the low light of the burnished bronze candelabras on either side of my massive Louis XIV bed which was, yes, also sculpted out of gold. And knowing Bram's expensive tastes, I wouldn't have been surprised to learn the bed was constructed of solid gold. 'Course gold was known for being less than strong so maybe it wasn't solid. At any rate, it was expensive and it was ... gaudy.

With a defeated sigh, I heaved my mass of hair over one shoulder, so I could better see the shoes Bram had intended for me to wear, which he'd left just beside my bed. I stepped into the ridiculous heels, which were a coppery color, and had to be over six inches high. The laces crisscrossed clear up to my knees and gave me a sort of Roman look. Yep, the shoes accompanied with the dress that was so small it looked like it was intended for a Barbie Doll, made me look like a Roman whore. Once I'd fastened the shoes to either of my feet, it took me a second to find my balance, and once I did, I attempted to walk, all the while afraid that I might trip and break an ankle. Fashion and crime fighting weren't exactly bedfellows.

"Are your accommodations to your liking?"
came
Bram's voice from behind me.

I twirled around so
fast,
I lost control and had to stabilize myself against the handrail of my poster bed. "My accommodations aren't occupying my mind at the moment," I grumbled in response.

Bram smiled handsomely and showed himself into my room, eyeing me from head to toe as he did so. Then he shook his head and his eyes narrowed, filled with something that resembled passion. "I have never wanted to undress a woman as fiercely as I do now."

I raised my eyebrows at the same time that I made a show of fending him off with my palm, making sure to keep my other hand firmly locked around the bedpost because I didn't trust myself on my stilts. "Save it, Romeo. This is not my idea of a good time," I mumbled, taking a few unsteady steps in his direction. "And nice work with this hankie," I finished, glancing down at myself in obvious distaste.

I expected him to at least laugh but he didn't—instead, he continued staring at me as if he were a deer caught in the death grip of a car's headlights. "I hand selected that gown and had it flown in from Florence, Italy," he said at last, his tone affronted. "Not to mention that I returned the dress five times until I deemed it adequate to grace your lovely skin."

"Tell your tailor he forgot the rest of it!" I snapped, in no mood to seem in the least bit gracious ... because I wasn't ... not in the least bit.

Bram just continued to stare at me, his gaze roving over my breasts as his fangs visibly lengthened until they were indenting his lower lip. He held his hand out and with his index finger, appeared to outline the swell of my breasts in the air, looking like a conductor who'd lost his baton.

"The lines are exquisite," he said breathlessly. "Rossi managed to capture your body flawlessly." He continued tracing the dress or my body, I wasn't sure which, in the air. He looked ridiculous. "It is a work of art. The way the gown reveals the swell of your lovely breasts and hints at your stomach just beneath, only to obscure the admirer's view with the skirt which then hints at your muscular thighs, leaving your stunning legs as a cornucopia of sexuality on which I can feast my eyes."

"
I just threw up a little.
" I frowned as I tried to hobble forward again, feeling like I was on ice skates.

Bram arched an unimpressed eyebrow and scowled at me. "Sometimes I do wish you would refrain from speaking, Sweet."

"Ditto," I replied grumpily before throwing my hands on my hips at the reality of how much time and thought went into creating this "dress" in the first place. "So how did you figure out what my size is, anyway?" I eyed him narrowly as I further considered it. "Did you steal something of mine?"

Bram chuckled and shook his head, looking at me as if I were dumb. "It is not
so
simple as your size, my dear sweet. And, no, I have never stolen anything in my life and do not plan to start. The simple answer is that I have memorized your body—the flow of your neck to your shoulders." Then he drew a line in the air which I supposed represented the line of my neck to my shoulders. "The flow of your breasts to your stomach, your stomach to your hips ..."

"Yeah, yeah, I got it, Dr. Grey. I don't need an anatomy lesson."

He dropped his fingers from their escapade into air-writing and faced me squarely. "You do realize you are the only woman who refuses to adhere to my ... sensuality."

I laughed. I couldn't help it. "Adhere to your sensuality?
What,
like a piece of tape or maybe some glue?" I laughed even more loudly, finding his comment and this whole situation increasingly funny. Maybe I was just at the point of losing my mind because it did feel as if my grip on sanity was slowly fading.

Bram frowned, crossing his arms against his chest. "I fail to see the humor in my pointing out how delectable you are and how I desire you, though it pains me to admit it."

"Come on, Bram, this whole thing is ridiculously funny if you think about it." Then I started for the door again, feeling like I was going to face plant at any second. "I'm dressed like a bimbo on stilts, which somehow, and I still don't understand how, seems to sexually frustrate the hell out of you. And the cherry on this completely screwed up cake is that we're probably about to go into war with the Netherworld." I started to laugh even harder. "Now that is the best damn punch line I've heard in a while."

Bram regarded me coolly, one of his brows drawn in admonition. "
Dulcie
Sweet, sometimes you are quite bizarre."

I shook my head and sighed, thinking the only people who seemed to really get me were Sam,
Dia
, Trey and, okay, Knight.

Bram held out his arm and I took it, figuring my balance needed all the help it could get. He led me from my bedroom, down the stairs, and into his dining room, although it took us probably twice as long to make the trip because I had to cling to the banister with one hand and his arm with the other. When we reached his dining room, a goblin dressed in black and white was waiting for us and hurriedly opened the double doors, revealing the most enormous table I'd ever seen, sitting atop an enormous black rug that matched the black of the walls perfectly. The only lights in the room were offered by a chandelier made of elk or deer horns which looked as if it were fifteen feet wide and nine feet tall. The table was easily the size of my apartment, a place setting at each of the chairs.

"Um, are you having a party tonight?" I asked as Bram motioned for his butler (I supposed the hairy goblin was, anyway) and the man shut the double doors behind us, leaving us to our privacy, much to my chagrin.

"Yes, Sweet," Bram said simply and eyed the room as if he were bored.

"How many people are you expecting?" I asked, glancing down at the table as I tried to get a place setting count. It was futile because my brain didn't work that fast.
Especially now when I'd had such little sleep.

"One," Bram said simply and turned his broad grin in my direction. "You, Sweet, you are the extent of the diners to fill my evening."

"Then why all the place settings?"
I asked, facing the enormous table again.

Bram shrugged as if the answer were obvious. "I was not certain as to where you'd prefer to sit." Then he started around the table, glancing forward and side to side as if to judge which position offered the best view.

"Um, overkill anyone?" I asked, shaking my head. "You didn't have to go to so much trouble, Bram, I'm fine sitting anywhere."

He nodded and pulled out a chair in the dead center of the table. "This seat offers the best view of the room, I do believe."

I said nothing but took the proffered chair and felt Bram push it up to the table as my eyes fell to the wall directly across from me. Staring back at me was
Bram,
only this Bram was memorialized in oil. The painting had to be ten feet high and when I took the whole thing in, I had to keep myself from laughing. It was Bram dressed in what appeared to be armor although it wasn't the type of armor commemorated in cartoons and the like. Instead, it looked like something ancient—something real for lack of a better word. Next to the knightly Bram, who wore a steel expression in his eyes and an almost obscene smirk (like he was going for the Mona Lisa but never quite made it), was a black horse. But what really tickled my funny bone wasn't the morose expression of a Bram whose shoulders were actually much broader than they were in real life or whose jaw was a bit
more square
and whose nose was a bit more Roman. No, what was even now making me clear my throat so I wouldn't erupt into a fit of giggles was the fact that the oil painting depicted Bram with one foot on the decapitated body of a dragon, the beast's head hanging from Bram's hands.

"So this is the best view in the room, is it?" I asked, turning to face him with unconcealed humor.

But his attention wasn't on me. It was on the painting. "Astonishing, is it not?" he asked in a faraway voice.
"An absolute masterpiece."

"Um, Bram, you're dressed like a knight and you're holding a dragon's head."

My statement seemed to pull him from his reverie and he shook his head, as if just waking from a deep sleep. "Yes, I was known as the dragon slayer."

I suddenly felt exhausted—so exhausted that I didn't even want to get into the whys and
hows
of Bram's days as a dragon slayer. Sometimes there was just a point where life became too much to deal with and I was now at that point.

"Would you prefer I sit beside you, Sweet, or across from you?"

"Across from me
,
"
I answered automatically.

"Very good, as I prefer to view all of your lovely face as opposed to just your profile."
Then he started the long walk around the table, taking even longer to work his way up the other side, pausing just before the painting so he could admire it ... again. Everything Bram did was for show—it didn't matter who he was with or who he wasn't with. I was almost convinced that he thought he was constantly being videotaped or something—like he thought he was on his own show with a myriad of viewers just dying to find out what Bram was about to do next. He never seemed as if he wasn't "on."

Once he reached the sea
t opposite mine, he pulled the chair
out slowly and made a show out of seating himself and pulling his chair back up to the table again. Then he eyed me purposefully, saying nothing for at least three seconds.