“Oh, here they are,” Marguerite said happily, and Carolyn followed her gaze to the stage where drums and a keyboard had been set up. Genie was now leading the band members onto the low stage and taking up the microphone to introduce them as they moved to their spots. Santo settled behind the drums, Raffaele stepped behind the keyboards and began to check things, Zanipolo and Giacinta both carried guitars, and Christian was holding a. . .
“Violin?” Carolyn said with surprise.
“Yes!” Marguerite beamed. “Isn’t he clever?”
“Er . . .” Carolyn stared blankly. The men all wore black T-shirts and either black jeans or leather pants, making Gia stand out in her red and white. And their hairstyles were all kind of rock punky. Gia’s hair was now gelled and wild around her head, while Raffaele’s stood up in shiny spikes all over like a porcupine. Then there was Santo’s bald head, and Zanipolo’s and Christian’s long hair, although Zanipolo had let his out of its ponytail while Christian had pulled his back into one. All in all they looked like a rock band . . . except for the violin.
“Christian was trained in classical violin, but he prefers hard rock,” Marguerite said, sounding more like a proud momma than a new sister-in-law.
“Hard rock violin,” Carolyn murmured, a bit befuddled. She’d never heard of such a thing. She liked modern music—pop, hip hop, alternative, and some hard rock—but she’d never heard of hard rock done with a violin. This should be interesting, she thought dubiously.
“Just wait till you hear them.” Marguerite grinned.
Carolyn forced a smile and nod as Genie finished introducing the band and stepped off the stage to hurry to their table.
“Oh my God, they are so hot, Marguerite,” Genie gushed as she fell into the chair next to Carolyn’s. “You didn’t mention that they were all gorgeous.”
“I showed you the video.” Marguerite pointed with a laugh.
“It was very small and didn’t do them justice at all,” Genie assured her, and then glanced back to the stage. Heaving a sigh, she muttered, “If only I were twenty years younger. I don’t suppose any of them would be interested in a fling with an older woman?”
Marguerite chuckled. “Oh, Christian happens to like older women. But he generally prefers blondes.”
“That leaves me out then,” Genie said with a sigh, and then elbowed Carolyn. “But it means you might have a chance.”
Carolyn nearly spat out the wine she’d just taken into her mouth. Swallowing it quickly and managing not to choke, she glanced at Marguerite to find the woman smiling at her encouragingly. Carolyn could feel the blood rushing to her face with embarrassment. She shook her head and turned quickly to the stage as Gia stepped up to the center mic.
The young woman stood there for a full minute, garnering the attention of everyone in the room, and then she opened her mouth and released a high pure note that pierced the silence. Her hand crashed down across the strings of the electric guitar she held and the band suddenly kicked to life, all movement and sound. Santo’s body vibrated as he appeared to try to beat his drums to death. Zanipolo was working his electric guitar like a cross between a lover and a submachine gun. Raffaele was pounding on his keyboards, his head bobbing to the music. Gia was alternately making love to her own electric guitar with long riffs and singing into the microphone with a clarity that Carolyn had never encountered before, and Christian. . .
Carolyn stared, watching the muscles in his arms and chest ripple under his black T-shirt as his bow scraped so quickly over the strings of his violin that she expected to see sparks flying and smoke rising. His eyes were closed, his face transported as the music moved through him. She couldn’t seem to tear her gaze from him as he played song after song . . . and then his eyes suddenly opened and met hers. Carolyn felt like someone had jammed an adrenaline shot into her heart. She was sure it skipped a beat when his eyes opened, but when he caught her gaze and didn’t release it, her heart started thumping again, charging ahead at a frightening rate that left her breathless and almost dizzy.
The music ended as abruptly as it had started. At least it seemed that way to her. Surely it hadn’t been an hour and a half already, she thought faintly as the band suddenly began to set their instruments aside and move off the stage.
“Break time,” Genie announced over the microphone, and Carolyn blinked. She hadn’t even been aware of the woman leaving the table.
“Weren’t they great?” Genie asked. “They’ll be back in fifteen minutes. I can’t wait. How about you?”
The bar erupted in claps and cheers, but Carolyn’s eyes were still locked with Christian’s as he led the band toward their table. He hadn’t even looked away while setting down his violin, and the intensity of his stare made her feel like a gazelle being stalked by a tiger. What remained of her intelligence pointed out that she was being ridiculous, but her instincts were screeching at her to run. Before she quite knew what she was doing, Carolyn stood, tore her gaze free of Christian’s, mumbled something about the ladies’ room, and fled in that general direction at little short of a dead run.
“I told you she’d avoid you,” Gia said as Christian watched Carolyn flee. His instincts were telling him to give chase, run her to ground like a panther with prey. The problem was what to do with her once he caught her. He knew what he wanted to do, but it was entirely inappropriate behavior in a public place.
Christian shook his head as that last thought registered. He already wanted her, he realized on a sigh. The moment in the van when he’d realized he couldn’t read her, he’d immediately been curious. And he’d felt a strange flutter and tingle as he’d touched her to lift her out of the van, which had grown as he’d carried her to the bench. It was what had urged him to deliberately let her body slide along his as he’d set her down, which had only increased those sensations. But when he’d felt her watching him while he was onstage and opened his eyes, he’d been captivated by the emotions flitting across her face. He’d recognized awe, appreciation, loneliness, and raw need, and it had called up similar responses in himself. By the time the set had ended all he’d been thinking was to get to the table to claim her.
Christian hadn’t been clear on how he’d intended to do that. Actually, he hadn’t been thinking clearly at all, his blood was up after performing and he suspected it might be a good thing she’d fled.
“I’ll go get her and bring her back,” Gia offered as they reached the table.
“No, it’s better she doesn’t return until he’s back onstage,” Marguerite said at once, and when Christian glanced at her with surprise, she smiled apologetically. “Your passions are too hot right now. If you carry her off as you were thinking while playing, you’ll scare her off. It’s why I didn’t stop her from going.”
“I wasn’t thinking that,” Christian said at once.
“Darling, that was the most G-rated thing you were thinking,” Marguerite said gently.
Christian flushed as his cousins chuckled, but he couldn’t deny it. He hadn’t really been thinking of doing that, but images of that and much more had been running through his mind. Grimacing, he dropped into a chair at the table.
Marguerite patted his hand, then glanced to Gia and said, “You could go talk to her. Calm her and make sure she returns to the table once you’re all back onstage. I think you’ll like her, Gia.”
“Okay.” Gia started to turn, but paused when Santo caught her arm.
“You need water,” he said, spotting a waiter nearby and concentrating on him briefly.
“I don’t drink water,” Gia said with a scowl.
“But we don’t have what you do drink here and there is no time for any of us to make a run back up to the villa to get it. Water will deal with the dehydration from the performance for now.”
Gia clucked impatiently, but when the waiter suddenly appeared with several bottles of cold water dripping with condensation, sh
e accepted one and moved off in the direction of the ladies’ room.
“So . . .” Christian accepted the bottle Santo passed to him. “How am I supposed to woo her if I can’t go near her?”
“I don’t think you should . . . for tonight at least. I think you should let us work on her first,” Marguerite said thoughtfully.
Christian stiffened at the suggestion. “Mother, don’t confuse me with father. Unlike him, I know how to woo a woman.”
“Excuse me, I know how to woo a woman.” Julius slid his arm around Marguerite, pulling her close as he added, “And here’s the proof.”
Christian nodded. “Which wooing technique do you think did it? When you attacked her and Tiny in that hotel? Or when you threw her over your shoulder and carted her back to that town house in York like a caveman dragging his woman back to a cave?”
“What? He did that?” Raffaele asked with surprise as Julius’s eyes narrowed.
“I’m just asking so I don’t use the wrong technique on Caro,” Christian said, holding his father’s gaze and ignoring Raffaele for now. Lips twitching, he added, “Maybe you could school me on how to talk to her. Should I practice in my head?”
“Oh man, I’m so missing something here,” Zanipolo muttered.
Julius suddenly relaxed. “Go ahead and laugh, son. But it’s you in the hot seat now.” Expression solemn, he added, “And Carolyn isn’t immortal with an immortal’s understanding of life mates. She’s also been hurt and has a natural resistance to getting involved with men at the moment, not to mention an utter horror at the idea of even being attracted to someone she thinks is as young as you. She will be difficult. Accept your mother’s help.”
Christian frowned, but glanced to his mother. “What do you suggest?”
Marguerite relaxed, though he suspected it was the brief verbal exchange between her son and husband that had made her tense to begin with. Now she said, “Well, I think we should see how Gia’s talk with her goes. Then Genie can help.”
“Genie? The entertainment coordinator?” he asked with bewilderment.
Marguerite nodded. “They are friends, and Genie seems open to the idea of a vacation romance for Carolyn. As does her other friend Bethany.”
“I’m not interested in a vacation romance,” Christian growled.
“Yes, dear, I know,” Marguerite said patiently. “But it’s a start. You have to work your way up to this.”
He shifted impatiently, but knew she was right. “Okay, so how can Genie help?”
“With the right prodding, I’m quite sure she’ll help convince her,” Marguerite assured him. “But, in the meantime, I don’t think you should even talk to Caro again until tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Christian sat up abruptly. Cripes, he wanted her now. Waiting till tomorrow was—
“You have waited five hundred years. One day won’t kill you,” Marguerite said, patting his hand soothingly. “Besides, it won’t really be tomorrow.”
When he allowed his confusion to show, she smiled. “Shared dreams.”
“Oh, man.” Zanipolo punched Christian in the arm. “Shared dreams are supposed to be hot.”
“Hopefully between talking to Gia, encouragement from Genie, and the shared dreams, she may be more willing to overlook the age difference.”
Christian suspected it wouldn’t be that easy, but merely asked, “Is she close enough to have shared dreams?”
“She’s in the villa below yours,” Marguerite grinned. “We arranged it.”
“Thank you,” he murmured.
“Don’t thank us. We haven’t won her for you yet,” Marguerite said, and then warned, “and I suspect no matter what we do she’ll still run eventually.”
When Christian stilled, she shrugged. “All of your brother’s life mates ran at some point or other,” she said quietly. “It’s a frightening prospect for a mortal. They have not only to accept our existence, but trust in nanos, something they didn’t even know about before meeting an immortal.”
Christian glanced up as Genie suddenly appeared at the table, smiling widely.
“Oh, you guys are great. Everyone I’ve talked to loves you,” she announced happily, and then asked, “Where’s Gia?”
“She’s in the ladies’ room. I’m sure she’ll be right back,” Marguerite answered. “Christian was just asking about Carolyn, but I don’t know her as well as you. Perhaps you can answer his questions?”
Genie’s eyebrows rose as her gaze shifted to him. “Sure. What do you want to know?”
Taking his mother’s cue, Christian smiled and said, “Everything.”
If you’ve enjoyed the latest Cat and Bones adventure, you’ll love Vlad and Leila’s story,
Book One in the Night Prince series,
available in April 2012.
I faced my captors in what looked to be a hotel room, my hands folded in my lap as if I were placing a dinner order and they were waiters. If you ever meet another vampire, don’t panic. You’ll only smell like prey, Marty had warned me. I knew what my captors were after seeing their eyes turn glowing green. That was why I didn’t bother lying when they asked me how I doubled as an electric eel and had the ability to siphon information through touch. If I lied, they’d only use the power in their gaze to make me tell the truth—or do whatever else they wanted—and I didn’t want to give them any more control over me than they already had.
I also didn’t try to run even though they hadn’t tied me up. Most people didn’t know vampires existed, let alone what they could do, but because of my ability to pick up information through touch, I’d known about vampires years before I met Marty. My abilities meant I knew all sorts of things I wished I didn’t.
Like the fact that my captors had every intention of killing me; that topped the list of things I wished I didn’t know at the moment. I’d seen my death after being forced to touch the auburn-haired vampire again, and it was an image that made me want to clutch my neck while backing away screaming.
I didn’t. Guess I should be grateful that my unwanted abilities meant I’d experienced so many horrible deaths; I could look at my impending execution with a morbid sort of relief. Getting my throat ripped out would hurt—I’d relived that through other people enough times to know—but it wasn’t the worst way to die. Besides, nothing was set in stone. I’d seen a glimpse of my possible future, but I’d managed to prevent Jackie’s murder. Maybe I could find a way to prevent my own.
“So let me get this straight,” Auburn Hair said, drawing the words out. “You touched a downed power line when you were thirteen, nearly died, and then later, your body began giving off electric voltage and your right hand divined psychic impressions from whatever you touched?”
More had happened, but it wasn’t information I wanted to reveal and he wouldn’t care about those details anyway.
“You experienced the voltage part yourself,” I said with a shrug. “As for the other, yeah, if I touch something, I get impressions off it.” Whether I want to or not, I silently added.
He smiled then, his gaze roving over the thin, jagged scar that was the visible remains of my brush with death. “What did you see when you touched me?”
“Past or future?” I asked, grimacing at either memory.
He exchanged an interested look with his buddies. “Both.”
How I would love to lie, but I didn’t need psychometric abilities to know if they doubted me, I’d be dead in moments.
“You like eating children.” The words made bile rise in my throat that I swallowed before continuing. “And you’re intending to drink me to death if I don’t prove useful to you.”
His smile widened, showing the tips of his fangs as he didn’t deny either charge. If I hadn’t seen similar menacing, fanged grins through the eyes of people I’d been psychically linked to, I would have been pants-pissing terrified, but a jaded
part of me simply acknowledged him for what he was: evil. And I was no stranger to evil, much as I wished otherwise.
“If she’s the real deal like we heard, it could give us the edge we’ve been looking for,” his brunet companion muttered.
“I think you’re right,” Auburn Hair drawled.
I didn’t want to die, but there were some things I wouldn’t do even if it cost me my life. “Ask me to help you kidnap children, and you may as well start in on my neck now.”
Auburn Hair laughed with what appeared to me genuine mirth. “I can do that on my own,” he assured me, making my stomach lurch with revulsion. “What I want you for is more . . . complicated. If I bring you objects to touch, can you tell me about their owner? Such as what he’s doing, where he is, and most importantly, where he will be?”
I didn’t want to do anything to help this disgusting, murderous group, but my choices were grim. If I refused, I’d get mesmerized into doing it anyway, or get tortured into doing it, or die choking on my own blood because I was of no use to them. Maybe this was my chance to better my circumstances and change the fate they intended for me.
Why do you want to? a dark inner voice whispered. Aren’t you sick of drowning in other people’s sins? Isn’t death your only way out?
I glanced at my wrist, the faint scars that had nothing to do with my electrocution marking my skin. One time I’d listened to that despairing inner voice, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit part of me was still tempted by it. But then I thought of Marty, how grieved my aunts would be, how I hadn’t told my dad I loved him the last time we spoke, and finally, how I didn’t want to give these bastards the satisfaction of killing me.
My head came up and I met the leader’s gaze. “My abilities are tied to my emotions. Abuse me mentally or physically and you’ll have better luck calling a psychic hotline to find out what you want to know. That means no murdering anyone while I’m getting information for you, and no touching me at all.”