Twice Tempted

  Maybe he was only worried that he would lose his psychic weapon, my inner voice taunted. Now that you’re better, he has no reason to be near you until he needs something.

  Shut up, I snapped in reply.

  Vlad hadn’t asked me to pull an impression from a single object since my return. True, I’d spent most of that time unconscious, but that didn’t mean he was concerned only because of my abilities. My nasty little inner voice could whisper all the poison it wanted. It didn’t take away from the fact that something still burned between Vlad and me. As for why he’d avoided me the past twenty-four hours, I intended to find out.

  When I left the infirmary, I went to my bedroom, taking a shower after releasing my pent-up electricity in the lightning rod Vlad had set up outside my window. Then I went to the antique wardrobe, opened the doors—and stared.

  Empty. Not even a single hanger remained. I went to the dressers next, opening each one with increasing disbelief.

  Every last stitch of clothing was gone. If not for the towels and robe in the bathroom, I’d be naked.

  I tightened that robe around me and pulled the long tassel by the door. After a couple minutes, the albino-looking vampire named Oscar appeared.

  “How may I help you?” he asked with a bow.

  “Do you know what happened to the clothes in this room?”

  “Yes.”

  I waited, but when he said nothing else, I gritted my teeth and tried again.

  “And they’re not here anymore because?”

  A slow blink. “Because you’re not staying here any longer.”

  What?

  “I’m not?” I repeated in case I’d briefly coma-d out and misheard him.

  “That’s correct,” he said with another bow.

  Vlad was kicking me out? Sure, he was angry I’d overused my powers, but I couldn’t believe he’d do something so drastic.

  Told you he didn’t really care! my inner voice crowed.

  Eat me! I roared back at it.

  “Where is Vlad now?” I asked, hoping it was my overly sensitive hearing that made the question sound like a screech.

  “In his room.”

  I brushed by Oscar with a muttered “Thanks” before marching to the staircase. Then I went up, holding the bottom of my robe together so I didn’t flash anyone.

  No one passed me on the staircase. The long slate hallway on the fourth floor was also empty. I took the fork on the left, mentally gearing up for the fight ahead. I was not letting Vlad do this. We had too much unfinished business between us.

  I went into his room without knocking. He never locked his door, probably because anyone who entered without permission was tempting death. I’d already died once this week, so that wasn’t about to stop me.

  “We need to talk,” I said.

  Thankfully, the lights were on so he must be awake. Though I was determined to have this out, Vlad was not Mr. Sunshine when he first woke up. I shut the door, my gaze skipping around. His room was broken into four sections: the mini-library, as I called the part with couches and wall-to-wall bookshelves; the bedchamber; the bathroom; and his walk-in closet.

  Vlad came out of that closet in pants and a jacket the color of storm clouds. His raw silk shirt was a few shades lighter, as was the thicker, long silk scarf that hung with casual elegance around his neck. I must’ve caught him before he was done dressing because his feet were bare, which made his approach even more soundless than usual.

  I held up a hand. “Before you say anything, hear me out.”

  Not waiting to see if he agreed, I plowed ahead.

  “I know you, the real you, and while I don’t like everything because you’ve got a master’s degree in medieval torture, not to mention a reluctance to admit to feelings beyond affection or lust, which any shrink would tell you were commitment issues”—deep breath for the next part—“I still love you, Vlad. You, the dragon, not the imaginary knight, and I’m not letting you kick me out because I—I think you love me, too.”

  I was out of breath from too many words with too little oxygen in between them. Throughout my emphatic if ineloquent speech, Vlad kept coming toward me. The scent of cinnamon, spice, and smoke filled my nose. This must be his natural scent, something I hadn’t noticed before my nose received its upgrade.

  I stared at him, wishing I had his mind-reading abilities because his expression gave nothing away. All I gleaned from searching his face was that his stubble was back to its eight o’clock shadow length and his molten copper eyes were sprinkled with emerald.

  “You’re right,” he said at last, his tone thick with things I couldn’t name.

  “About what? The excessive torturing, commitment issues, or the other thing?”

  His smile was tantalizing and frightening, like being whipped and finding out you enjoyed the pain. I couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through me as I looked at the man who still had such a dangerous hold over my heart.

  “All of it.”

  He seized me as he spoke, one hand tangling in my hair while the other splayed across my back. Their heat was nothing compared to his lips when he pressed them to my throat.

  “Do you know what happened the last time I loved someone?”

  Growled against my skin with such tempered violence that my shiver turned into a shudder. I nodded.

  “No you don’t.” Another lethal growl. “You only know how she died. Let me tell you how she lived—in fear. My actions horrified her, as they horrify you. My enemies exploited her, as they exploit you, so it was more than an advancing army that made her throw herself from our roof. It was me.”

  He’d made sure to say this while his fangs were at my throat, as if I needed a literal example of how precarious life would be with him. In response, my arms came up, crisscrossing around his neck. One at a time, I pulled my gloves off. Then I plunged my hands into his hair, letting the electricity surge through him as I held him closer to my neck.

  “I am not her.”

  I was glad the words vibrated from my vehemence. I wanted him to be able to feel them as well as hear them.

  “You’re the scariest man I’ve ever met, but I am not afraid of you. As for your enemies, let them come. I’ve survived them before and I will again.”

  His laughter teased my neck—hot, harsh, and silkier than the rich material covering him. Then he lifted his head, and his stare held mine captive as if he’d mesmerized me.

  “You should be afraid. Very afraid. Before, I told you if you wanted to end things between us, I would let you go, but, Leila”—his voice deepened—“I lied.”

  Chapter 26

  The words sounded like a threat, yet I was unable to stop a grin from tugging at my mouth.

  “Does that mean you’re no longer trying to kick me out?”

  He turned, glancing at the entrance to his closet. “Look.”

  With a questioning glance, I went over to the closet. Yes, it was still the size of the RV I’d lived in with Marty, and yes, I still thought the automated system that moved his outfits along with the flick of a switch was cool. So what was—

  My indrawn breath coincided with him drawing me against him, his arms encircling me from behind.

  “Does that answer your question?”

  It did, and I’d completely misunderstood Oscar’s statement, “You’re not staying here any longer.” I thought he meant Vlad’s house. What he meant was that room. All the clothes that had been in my armoire and dressers were here, down to the bras that took up the section once occupied by Vlad’s ties.

  Even when I’d been his live-in girlfriend, none of my stuff had been kept here. It had been in the adjoining bedroom where I sometimes slept, too. Vlad couldn’t have been clearer about wanting me back, but in his usual way, he’d assumed because he wanted something, it was his.

  If we were going to work things out, that had to stop.

  I turned around, trying to rein in my roiling emotions. “You can’t move my stuff into your room without talking to me
first. What if I don’t want to take things that fast?”

  A snort escaped him. “You nearly died to prove I am the man you love, yet this is excessive to you?”

  I lifted my chin. “It only takes one person to love, but it takes two to make a relationship work. If we’re going to try again, it needs to be more than your way or the highway, Vlad.”

  His hands slid down my arms while he looked at me in a way that made me think of rapturous cries and blood dripping off steel. Possessiveness was so trivial by comparison.

  “I don’t want to try anything. I want you to marry me.”

  I thought I had been surprised before. Now I truly knew what the word meant. For several moments, I was convinced I hadn’t heard him correctly.

  Vlad’s smile held a hint of savageness. “Love is a terrible weakness. It gives your enemies a perfect target, clouds your judgment, makes you reckless . . . and that’s on a good day.”

  His hands continued their caressing path to my waist, their heat barely diminished by the thin material of my robe.

  “On a bad day,” he went on, his voice turning harsh, “it can destroy you. I never wanted to subject myself to that again, so yes, I kept you at arm’s length. I even let you leave to prove to myself that you meant no more to me than my previous lovers. And then Martin called, telling me you’d been killed.”

  His grip tightened painfully before he released me, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

  “I didn’t care about anything then. Not crushing my enemies, protecting my people, or how maddening you were by expecting me to behave like a modern man, as if I could shrug off half a millennium of living, based on your whim.”

  That last comment was unfair, but I’d address it later.

  “Then I went to the morgue and saw that those bones weren’t yours, heard your voice again in my head”—his eyes closed—“and once more, nothing else mattered.”

  His mouth twisted as he opened his eyes. “Then, of course, I discovered you’d run off with Maximus because you thought I was the one who tried to kill you. It enraged me, but I was determined to find you. Once I did, you maddened me no less than before, yet over the past few days, I realized it was too late.”

  Vlad cupped my face as he stared down at me with an intensity that made my heart beat like a trip-hammer.

  “I love you, Leila, and nothing else matters.”

  I never knew joy could be a physical sensation, but I wasn’t imagining the wave that swept me from head to toe. My throat contracted, my chest swelled, and my fingers tingled. Meanwhile, something long broken in my soul seemed to snap back in place, and though I didn’t feel it physically, it was just as real—and powerful.

  “I love you, too, Vlad.”

  I would have said more, except his mouth scorched mine with a kiss so passionate, I couldn’t breathe. It was hard to even think beyond a fervent, jumbled mantra of loveyouneedwantyou!

  He lifted his head and, incredibly, stopped me when I began unbuttoning his shirt.

  “No time for that,” he muttered.

  I was incredulous. “You have more important things to do?”

  I didn’t. In fact, if my nipples got any harder, the fabric would split where my robe rubbed over them.

  He looked down as if judging for himself and a harsh noise escaped him.

  “Not more important, but we’re both going to be very busy until the ceremony tonight.”

  “Ceremony?” What ceremony?

  The smile he flashed me was part amused and part feral. “Our wedding ceremony.”

  I had a split second when I thought, This is all a dream. It had to be, because he did not just say we were getting married tonight.

  “I didn’t agree to that.”

  His smile vanished. “You’re saying no?”

  “No. Er, not no, but not, you know . . .”

  I knew I wasn’t making sense, yet my mind was whirling with joy, shock, and disbelief. At the same time, the rational part of me snapped, Get a grip, Leila! One more sputter and I’d magically transform into a nineteenth-century Southern belle, fanning myself while gasping, “This is all so sudden!”

  I gave myself a mental shake and tried again.

  “I know my misunderstanding of the ring thing before led to our breakup, but as I said then, it wasn’t about angling for a proposal. It was about you being open to love—”

  He laughed, which stopped me mid-sentence because it wasn’t his sensual chuckle or even his disdainful, I-mock-you-with-my-superiority laugh. It was something new, and if I had to label it, I’d say it had You’re in for it now written all over it.

  “What did you think would happen when you made me realize I’d fallen in love with you? I’d want to date more? Get engaged to be engaged?”

  Another laugh that made gooseflesh ripple over me despite the heat from his body. Then his laughter faded away and he leaned down until his mouth was millimeters from mine.

  “As if I’d settle for anything less than making you completely mine, as soon as possible.”

  He was so close his features were a blur, yet his eyes had never gleamed brighter. I closed mine and it made no difference. I could still see his through the shield of my lids.

  “I am yours,” I whispered, and it wasn’t only a statement. It was a promise.

  As I spoke, I rubbed against him, craving more than his hands on me. For a blistering few moments, he complied, kissing me with such intensity that my knees buckled. When I began unbuttoning his shirt again, he drew away, his lips curled into a sensually cruel smile.

  “Not unless you marry me.”

  My mouth dropped. “You’re using sex as blackmail?”

  That smile widened. “Whoever told you I played nice?”

  My lips twitched but this was too serious to joke about. “I do want to marry you, Vlad. Tonight is too soon, but—”

  “Why?”

  Not a hint of humor colored the question. Belatedly, I realized he was serious. With that knowledge, my inner antebellum Southern belle burst to the surface.

  “Because all of this is so sudden!”

  After an outburst that even Scarlett O’Hara would scorn, I tried to explain in a more articulate manner.

  “I’d want our wedding to be special. I don’t have a dress, you don’t have a best man, and instead of flowers, we have corpses on poles decorating the front of the house.”

  “Flowers are on the way, as is my best man, three seamstresses are ready to make any dress you desire, and I’ll have the corpses taken down,” he replied without missing a beat.

  If he had seamstresses standing by plus flowers and a best man on the way, he wasn’t just serious about wanting to get married tonight. He was planning on it.

  A colossal tug-of-war began inside me. I loved Vlad and I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him; I had no doubts about that. His arrogance and complexity would drive me up a wall, plus I’d never get used to his impalement habit; I had no doubts about that, either. Would a long engagement change any of the above? No, but the saying “Marry in haste, repent at leisure” was famous for a reason . . .

  “Did I mention I honor the custom of paying a bride price?” he asked in a casual tone, as if his gaze hadn’t narrowed while listening to my thoughts.

  “In case you aren’t familiar, a bride price is where the groom bestows a gift to his new wife,” he went on. “The gift is supposed to reflect the value a groom places on his bride. Because of your value to me, no matter what you asked for, if it was in my power to grant, it would be yours.”

  I’d stiffened upon first hearing his description, insulted that Vlad thought he could overcome my concerns with money. Then he caressed the words of that last sentence until they shone as brightly as the apple the serpent offered Eve. What did he think I wanted? He loved me—that had been my biggest wish, and I didn’t remember singing “Material Girl” around him lately . . .

  Comprehension dawned. Anything in his power to grant, no matter what it was
. You MERCILESSLY diabolical man, I thought, aghast and admiring at the same time.

  “Let me guess—you don’t pay up until I marry you?”

  A sly smile curled his lips. “Correct.”

  “You really don’t play nice when it comes to something you want, do you?” I breathed.

  His eyes gleamed. “You have no idea.”

  A promise and a threat. That described my decision now, which held the hope of incredible bliss as well as the potential for irreparable heartbreak.

  “You told me you wanted to marry me,” I said, voice throaty from all my surging emotions. “You didn’t ask me.”

  He probably hadn’t noticed. To him, there wouldn’t be much difference between the two, and that exemplified so many issues in our relationship. See? You can’t marry him tonight or any other night, you two will NEVER last! my inner voice snapped.

  Vlad stared at me, copper swallowing up his gaze until not a trace of emerald remained. Then, his expression the same mixture of challenge and invitation, he slowly knelt before me.

  “Leila Dalton, my one true love, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  I might’ve brought Vlad to his knees at last, but in so many ways, he would never bend. I knew that as surely as I knew I’d always love him, and it left me with only one answer.

  “Yes, Vlad, I will marry you. Tonight.”

  My hated inner voice had never steered me right before. I’d be damned if I started listening to it now.

  Chapter 27

  I now knew what Vlad had been busy with yesterday when he hadn’t come to see me: preparing for a wedding I hadn’t known about yet. He hadn’t been kidding about the seamstresses, the flowers, or anything else. His staff hustled about with blurring speed, setting up decorations, making enough food for an army judging from the chaos near the kitchen, and putting out so many candles that the nearby countryside would soon suffer from a wax shortage. Unlike the frostiness I’d experienced before, Vlad’s people were all smiles now, and if one more person bowed to me, I’d expect a tiara to magically sprout from my head.