The Thorndyke Trilogy 2: Dancing at Midnight (16 page)

He tried to take the guard down mentally, but this guy was no patsy. His mind was ready, barriers up. He had short hair, a plain black T-shirt and jeans, nothing fancy and no posing. If he’d hurt Kristen, Nathan would hurt him twice as much. Ten times.

Nathan forced a smile to his face, although it was the last thing he wanted to do. “I need to get inside. The guy in there is interviewing one of my employees.”

The bouncer stared at him, took his time replying. “She’s discussing a business deal with the boss.”

“What’s his name?” The ancients said that knowing someone’s name was power. It wasn’t that. It was knowing their essence, delving down deep into their souls and uncovering everything they were.

Knowing what someone called himself in this incarnation didn’t mean a great deal, unless the person had allowed it.

“Trent De’Ath,” said the bouncer, arching his brows, as if everyone knew the name.

Once learned, never forgotten. Nathan didn’t snigger, although he wanted to. “That’s his real name?”

“Everybody says that. Yes, it is. Now, if I’m not mistaken, he might want to see you too.”

Oh shit
. The PHR had used her to draw him into a trap.

Chapter Eight

Nathan closed the door gently on the man outside. Whatever came next, at least he’d found Kristen and she was alive. He knew better than to take advantage of the subtle invitation this room possessed. Sorcery of some kind lurked here, an insidious beckoning that if he hadn’t expected it would have drawn him into opening his mind.

The PHR specialized in destroying Talents wherever they found them, but they weren’t above using plotting and guile. They organized in cells, which was why it was so difficult to get rid of them. When Talents rooted out one cell, another popped up somewhere else. The members guarded information carefully, only gave details to a selected few.

Nathan couldn’t do anything about taking this cell down tonight, but if he got out of this place in one piece, he’d take care of it.

“Good evening,” he said politely. He stayed where he was, near the door, but he longed to go to the couch where she sat and drag her into his arms.

The man called De’Ath looked up. The color of his eyes was pale, almost colorless, as if he lacked pigment there.

His skin was pink, and his lashes blond despite the raven shade of his hair.

They probably thought Nathan was a vampire. That gave him a definite advantage, since he wasn’t vulnerable to the same things. They probably hadn’t bothered to get Cephalox, the drug that would temporarily kill his dragon.

“Trent wants to offer me a job,” Kristen said with a sweet smile. “I could be a star here.”

He stared at her. Shock reverberated through him. She was looking at him as if staring at a stranger. The desire to kill somebody, anybody, seized him again, but he fought it down. He’d been a warrior in his time, and he knew the value of a cool head. He’d try to talk Kristen and himself out of here first. The odds were stacked against him; he’d already realized that from the strength of the muscle and the anti-telepathy buzz. These people weren’t amateurs.

He’d get Kristen out or die trying.

Death held no terrors for him, and that formed part of his strength. Because he didn’t care, he’d go that much further to get what he wanted.

Except he’d never have the chance to hold Kristen close again. A pang of regret hit him right in the solar plexus. Maybe he did want something else now. She’d made him vulnerable. This wasn’t the best time to discover that.

“You’ll be a star at my place.” Nathan kept his voice low and unthreatening. “It’s your choice, darling. Your free choice.”

Dalton’s snort echoed in Nathan’s head.
“She’s in a trance.”

He hadn’t needed Dalton to tell him that. Her eyes betrayed her, the pupils unusually large in this surprisingly well-lit room. Now that Nathan was this close, he could contact her mind, but wary of a trap, he only skimmed it. Even that superficial graze told him she wasn’t thinking normally. The patterns of her mind were disrupted—some quelled, some working in a different way.

“I’m bringing her out. She doesn’t belong here.”

“Maybe.”
Dalton sounded cautious.
“But she doesn’t belong with us.”

“At the moment, she doesn’t belong anywhere.”
Except with him. That certainty anchored him and told him he was doing the right thing coming here tonight, risking his life. On the surface, he was all Nathan Beaumont, club owner.

“You’ll have to negotiate with me before you can agree to dance anywhere else.”

“Unless she does it for free.” When De’Ath touched her hand, Nathan wanted to cut the bastard’s arm off. He could do it too, with a partial shift and a slash of his claws.

“If she wants it, I’ll let her go. Come with me, Kristen. We have a lot to talk about.”

Kristen glanced at De’Ath, her eyes anxious, and he nodded. The tension left her shoulders, which dropped slightly as she turned to face the man. “Then I’ll see you again.”

He exchanged a telling look with Nathan, who met his eyes unflinchingly, careful to hold his mental shield firm. “And I’ll see you again too. I look forward to welcoming you back.”

Nathan shrugged. “It’s not really to my taste, but I have to congratulate you in securing the premises.” Because if he’d had the slightest inkling of the PHR setting up shop here, he’d have bought the place and razed it to the ground.

“Thank you.”

If he killed this man now, what would happen? Kristen would get caught in the crossfire. He wanted Kristen out of here and somewhere safe. There was only one place he considered safe enough for her. In his arms.
Fuck separate apartments
. She belonged with him.

* * * *

Kristen felt dreamlike, floating, but she had enough sense to recognize Nathan. Although instinct told her to go to him, Trent had given her the power and knowledge to resist.

Nathan appeared more sinister than usual, his smooth, sophisticated front a cover for something more savage and primal. While it scared Kristen, it also intrigued her, even after what Trent De’Ath had told her about him, that he was a vampire. She couldn’t trust him. He was an enemy of her kind, an anathema.
He’s an enemy to normal people
. Although she recited the mantra in her head by rote, deep inside, rebellion stirred. She felt slightly sick, as if wanting to vomit the lies out.

He disturbed something inside her, disrupting her quiet certainty that he was evil.

He
was
. He’d seduced her, taken her away from her family and the things she really wanted, perverted her so she was happy to appear naked at his club. He was evil. Trent said so.

Except that memories surfaced of the way Nathan had held her in the dance, of his tenderness to her right before he left her, of his generosity to his employees.

And his passion. He opened himself fearlessly in bed, and more than once she’d glimpsed a core of integrity underneath the cynicism.

Unless that was a trick. But it didn’t appear that way to her. Trent didn’t have it all right.

Yes he did
. Nausea rose, this time stronger, and she fought back the doubts crowding into her mind. He was right. This man, this beautiful man calling himself Nathan Beaumont, was a perversion. He was something that should never exist, something wrong, and she had to be brave and do what Trent told her.

Her head swam. She stood and held out her hand to Nathan. Her fingers shook, but when he enclosed it in his warmth, she stopped trembling. “You can come back here if that’s what you want,” he said steadily, as if explaining something to a child.

She was no child. A flash of anger zipped through her, but she quelled it when she glanced at Trent. She smiled, a bland, normal expression, one she might bestow on a future employer, someone she wanted to please. “You have a great little place here. I think I’ll fit in better here than at Maskerade. And you’re not asking me to take my clothes off.”

“No I’m not, nor would I ever do that. Whatever you do must be up to you. You have to make those decisions.” Trent had helped her to understand that she was being exploited and used. After all, she’d never intended to sleep with Nathan, but he’d appeared in her room stark naked and taken the decision away from her. It was almost rape. The way Trent explained it made her situation so much clearer.

When Trent had kissed her, he’d cupped her chin and given her a reverential, quiet kiss, much more the kind of caress she was used to. They might have taken it further, but Trent had received a call on his cell and grimly told her that a pissed-off Nathan was talking to her brother at the bar. “Don’t worry,” he’d told her before she could express her anxiety. “I’ll make sure Stuart comes to no harm. One of the doormen is close and protecting him.”

“Do you think Nathan will hurt him?” Her tension rose several notches, and she fought to keep her breath even. Stuart was one of the dearest people in the world to her. If anyone hurt him, she couldn’t bear it.

“We won’t let him. Your brother is safe.” Because of course Trent had guessed Stuart was her brother.

That was another reason to leave Maskerade and come to Vampire Heaven. She could be done with the lie and let the legend of the ballerina turned stripper die. Because for all the fancy ballroom dancing, that was all it was. A strip, with men leering at her, watching the parts of her that she should only display to a few people in her life. Not every man in the audience would be a gynecologist, and her future husband wasn’t here. Yet. At that, Trent had smiled warmly at her.

Did he want her in that way? She wasn’t averse. He’d gently taken her in his arms and kissed her again before releasing her and sitting on his side of the desk, as if they were discussing the job rather than their personal affairs.

Nathan had broken into all that, and she hated him for it. Now she had to go with him and find out what she could for Trent.

So she took Nathan’s outstretched hand and let him draw her to his side, but although she told herself she hated every second of it, something inside her warmed and burned.

She couldn’t understand it, but it made it easier to say good night to Trent and let Nathan lead her outside. The man introduced to her as Terry gave her a friendly nod as Nathan pulled her away. Nathan seemed to take his time, but they crossed the small room rapidly and then the larger one, not even pausing to say good night to her brother. When she tugged, trying to lead him to the bar, Nathan ignored her, his superior strength easily subduing her.

Outside the club, a sleek black limo waited. Nathan didn’t hesitate but ushered her into the vehicle, one proprietorial hand against her back.

Trent had suggested that if she was nice to him, she could discover more about Nathan. But the notion made her uncomfortable. She tried to move along the seat, mildly surprised when Nathan didn’t stop her. He sat on the opposite corner of the long, leather-upholstered seat, his legs crossed, the free one swinging gently. She stared out the window, watching the nightlife of Chicago stretch out before her. The lights, the drunks, the elegantly dressed clientele of the more upmarket places, and the tourists pausing at every club that said
Blues
or some variation on it to peer inside and study the menu.

Looking at them was better than facing the menace inside the big car. When Trent had explained what she’d gotten herself into and asked her to help, the task sounded easy. Now, with Nathan’s presence, her nerves threatened to choke her.

They drove past Maskerade, the lights illuminating her—Isadora’s picture. “I don’t like that.”

“What?” He spoke softly, but she didn’t turn to face him. “The poster?”

“Yes. I’m not sure it’s not violating our contract.”

“We took great care to remove any distinguishing marks. You’re in the typical ballet pose in a typical ballet costume. We could impose several pictures over this one, and they would be so similar it would be hard to tell the difference. All the poster says is that a ballet dancer is changing genres. Someone who has worked in Europe.” He paused. “We’ve already had a few challenges.”

Her heart pounded, so loud she was afraid he’d hear it.

“We told anyone who objected to sue. Nobody has, and as far as we know, nobody has given any serious attention to it. They were bound to protest, but the fact that the calls named different dancers is something we can use in our defense, if we have to. Don’t worry. We’re covered. Besides, after your debut, I plan to replace it with one of you. Indisputably you.”

“With you?” She turned to face him. His eyes glittered in the gloom, making him otherworldly. Was it true? Was he really a vampire? Right now, he looked superhuman, something more than… Though more than what, she wasn’t sure. People possessed charisma. They didn’t have to be anything paranormal to do that. But he seemed bigger somehow, more menacing.

“With Steve,” she reminded him.

“Yes, of course. But I’ve changed my mind. I’ll be there on opening night. Even if I’m in the office.”

How she wished she could go back a couple of weeks before she got into this mess! She’d take back everything but the sex, and she wouldn’t have missed that for the world. Vampire or no, Nathan was the best fuck she’d ever had. Until tonight, she’d wanted more, but now that was impossible.

The rest of the drive to the apartment building passed in silence. When the car pulled up, he opened his door and leaped out. He came around to her side before she could exit on her own. Courteously he helped her out, then gave the driver a word of thanks. The car pulled away from the curb as he guided her into the building.

They didn’t stop at her floor. When she tried to get to the bank of buttons, he stood before them and shook his head. “You’re coming up to my place tonight. We have a few things to discuss.”

Yes they did, although she’d wanted to start in the morning, after she’d had time to sleep.

His penthouse never failed to evoke awe, especially at night when the lights of Chicago stretched before them like their own private entertainment. She paused when she stepped through the door, and he came up behind her, slipping his arms around her waist and linking his fingers over her stomach. Kristen fought her impulse to lean back into his warmth. Fear sent chills up her spine as the push-pull of deep sexual attraction versus what Trent had told her struck her with full force.