“What can I do?” Gregoire asked in a quiet voice.
Vaguely she was aware of Julian plucking the gun out of her shaking grip and handing it over to the other man. “Increase security around the perimeter. Contact Xavier and Yolanthe. Tell them we’re here and to expect a briefing shortly. Get hot tea and food up to my rooms. I need a new phone.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m o-okay,” Melly told Julian.
“I know you are.” His gaze was concerned.
Her teeth started to chatter. “I’m j-just reacting.”
“Hell, I am too.” Scooping her into his arms, he jogged up the main stairs.
She managed to hook an arm around his neck. “I w-w-wasn’t expecting the t-trip to end like that.”
“Your back was so unprotected, I couldn’t stand it.” Rapidly he walked down the hall.
She hadn’t been in his San Francisco home in over twenty years. The décor had changed somewhat. It was still a sophisticated blend of creams and golds, with dark antiques, but the wallpaper and paints had been updated, giving the interior a combination of a traditional and a contemporary look.
The layout remained the same, and she knew where he was taking her – to his suite. For a brief moment she tried to decide if she cared, but she really didn’t. She couldn’t even scare up a ghost of pretense. Whenever she had visited, his suite had been a happy place, filled with safety and sensuality.
The future would take care of itself soon enough. Right now, she couldn’t imagine anywhere else she would rather be.
Carrying her into his room, he set her in a worn leather armchair, set in a reading nook in one corner. A faint, comforting scent of cigar smoke surrounded her. A gold-inlaid humidor sat on a table beside the chair, along with a crystal ashtray and an old-fashioned metal torch lighter. This was where he sat to smoke and think.
She loved the smell of his cigars. Hand rolled and made of high-end, organic tobacco, they seemed clean and aromatic compared to the stink of so many modern cigarettes.
Steel shutters at the windows ran on an automatic timer. At the moment, they were all closed against direct sunshine. The room lay in deep shadow, with the only light streaming in from the hall, until he switched on the lamp beside the chair.
He knelt in front of her, gathering her close again. She threw her arms around him and hung on. He stroked her hair, and the silence that fell between them wasn’t empty in the slightest. It was more full than any words could have made it.
When her arms loosened, his did too. He touched her cheek with the back of his fingers as he said reluctantly, “I have to go brief Yolanthe and Xavier.”
She straightened in her seat. “I need to be there too.”
“No.” He shook his head. “Not two minutes ago you were shaking like a leaf, and you couldn’t stand upright on your own. You need rest and good food.”
She set her jaw. “I could sure as hell use a shower too, but Justine made me a part of this whole damn thing. Julian, I refuse to play the role of a helpless victim. I need to be a partner in bringing her to justice.”
At that, he gave her a fierce frown, but she met his gaze steadily, and after a moment, he said, “I understand. How about a compromise? You stay up here and look after yourself. Let me brief Xavier and Yolanthe. I’m going to have them send investigators into the tunnels to start the process of extracting and identifying bodies. I’m also going to have them start a citywide search, and I want Xavier to investigate recent helicopter activity.”
She frowned. “Helicopters don’t have to file flight plans, do they?”
“No, but I’m hoping there’ll be some kind of trail to follow. If the helicopter was rented, there’ll be a record of that. If either Xavier or Yolanthe has any news, I’ll call you down to join the conversation. If not, after I’m done with the briefing, I’m going to come back up here and shower too.” He searched her expression. “We need to rest while we can, so that we’re ready for whatever happens next.”
She rubbed her forehead and let out a sigh as the starch left her spine. He was right. She needed to be a partner, but she had to be a robust and reliable one.
She said, “Okay.”
He kissed her forehead. “I don’t have any women’s clothes in here, but I can have Gregoire send out for some things. In the meantime, help yourself to whatever you need.”
Was it wrong of her to be fiercely glad he didn’t have anything feminine in his private rooms? If it was, she didn’t want to be right.
“Go on, don’t worry about me,” she told him. “I’ll be fine.”
He looked deeply into her gaze. “We have a lot to discuss, you and I.”
“It’ll keep.” Her eyes narrowed. “For now.”
Nodding, he gave her a hard, quick kiss. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
When he strode out, he seemed to take all her remaining energy with him. She sagged in the chair while she stared into space. She had to call her mom and shower. Or shower and call her mom. They seemed to be insurmountable tasks, and she couldn’t decide which one to tackle first.
The phone in her pocket rang, startling her. She pulled it out to look at the screen.
She knew the number from the incoming call like the back of her hand.
Huh.
She clicked the answer button. As she held the phone up to her ear, a woman’s dangerous, icy voice said, “Keenan O’Sullivan, this is Tatiana Aindris. I will give you five million dollars for the safe return of my daughter. Or I can hunt for you forever, and if that happens, I promise you won’t like what happens when I find you.”
As she heard the Light Fae Queen’s voice, decades of adulthood fell away until Melly felt like she was five years old again, happy and loved and utterly safe.
Her lips pulled into an incredulous smile. “Mommy?”
Thirteen
“M
elisande.” The intensity in her mother’s voice caused her to start shaking again, and her eyes to swim with tears.
“How on earth did you know to call this number?” She knew she was grinning like a fool, but she didn’t care. Sluggishly her mind clicked into gear. “Wait. I made a PayPal payment.”
“We started monitoring all your accounts within a few hours of finding out you’d disappeared. When the payment to Keenan O’Sullivan went through, we jumped on it. I have someone on the way to his house right now.”
“Oh, no,” she exclaimed in dismay. “Mom, you’ve got to call them off. Keenan and his friends helped me this morning.”
“How do I know you aren’t being coerced into saying that?”
“Because I’m not!” She heard how irrational that sounded and caught herself up. More calmly, she said, “Yes, I’m in San Francisco, but I’m at Julian’s house.”
“What?” The ice had come back, and it was sharp as a dagger.
“I just arrived – I literally sat down five minutes ago, and I’ll tell you all about what happened. Just promise me you won’t do anything to Keenan. He’s totally innocent.”
“If he’s innocent, why did you pay him twenty thousand dollars? And why did you answer his phone?”
“Because I bought his motorcycle, gear and phone. And his gun.” The silence that resulted from that was more dangerous than any ice. She took a deep breath and braced herself. Here we go. “Justine kidnapped me. She used me to trap Julian. She forced him to give himself up in exchange for my life, only when he surrendered to her, she didn’t let me go. Julian and I got free, and I’m okay now. I’ve got some cuts and bruises, and I’m dirty and tired, but I’m safe. I’m fine.”
Quickly, she sketched in the rest of the details. Another silence fell. This time she could hear her mother’s breathing.
When Tatiana spoke next, she sounded ragged. “Julian acted so bizarrely when he left here, we knew something had to be wrong, but we didn’t know what. Soren had come to help search for you, and so had Graydon, from New York.”
“Julian told me they were involve
d in the investigation.”
“While Soren stayed with me, Graydon tracked Julian to the de Young Museum, where his trail just stopped. Graydon’s on his way to O’Sullivan’s house now. Since Julian had vanished, we thought it would be better for him to go, instead of me sending Light Fae troops into the Nightkind demesne.”
“Gods, what a mess,” Melly muttered.
“Hang on.” The phone went silent. When Tatiana came back on the line, her voice was steady, strong. “I got in touch with him. He hadn’t found O’Sullivan yet.”
“Oh, good.”
“Cuts, you said,” Tatiana said softly. “And bruises. I want to see you. I want to see your face.”
Involuntarily she looked down herself. She couldn’t remember looking like quite such a disaster before, not even for the worst of her disaster movies. A snort escaped her. “Trust me, you don’t, not until after I’ve cleaned up. Listen, I’m going to help bring down Justine, and that includes any of her allies – if she has any left. The Nightkind demesne owes me that much. Julian has already agreed, so I don’t know when I’m coming home.”
“I don’t know, Melly…”
“Mother, I’m not asking you for permission,” she interrupted. After her shake-fest a few minutes ago, she was surprised at how strong and focused she sounded. “I’m telling you what I’m going to do.”
A very long pause greeted that statement.
Then Tatiana replied, “I’m sending you twenty troops. That’s nonnegotiable. The Nightkind demesne owes me that much. What else do you need?”
A shower, rest, food. A resolution of some kind with Julian. None of it was anything her mother could give her. With an effort, she concentrated on practicalities. “Well, I don’t have anything, so I could use clothes, my phone, credit cards, cash card. Cash.”
“You’ll have all of it by early afternoon, along with your own weapons and body armor.”
“Okay, thanks.” Depending on how the search went, Melly hoped to be sound asleep when it arrived. She asked, “Is Bailey there?”
“No, she’s out, but I’ll send her with the troops. I know she needs to see you.”
“Sounds good. I love you.”
“I love you too, darling.” The gentleness in her mother’s voice enfolded her like an invisible hug, but it was the Light Fae Queen who said in an iron voice, “And Melly – make them pay.”
After she disconnected the call, she stood to limp into Julian’s bathroom. She couldn’t take it any longer. If one more delay came between her and clean soap and water, she might get indiscriminately violent.
Along with the rest of the house, the bathroom had been updated too. While the fixtures – sink, toilet, tub – were physically in the same places they had been in before, the décor had changed. As with everything else, Julian’s taste was simple. Dark cabinets and cream marble dominated, and the tub was now separate from a glass-fronted, walk-in shower.
She tore off her clothes, rolled them into a tight pile and set them on the floor by the door, hopefully to be burned later. Then she started hot water in the spacious tub and used a dollop of shampoo as bubble bath. While her bath ran, she dug around in the cabinets until she found spare toothbrushes.
She almost fell asleep leaning against the sink as she brushed her teeth, only coming awake with a start when she started to slide sideways.
Unh, Melly. Oh, no you don’t.
Not even her own exhaustion was going to hold her back. With single-minded determination, she climbed into the tub, submerged in the water and lathered her hair twice. By that point, the water was so dark with dirt, she had to let it drain and run a new bath. She had been cold for so long, the warmth that sank into her bones felt glorious. After running a soapy washcloth all over her body, she curled on her side and fell asleep.
She woke up to Julian lifting her out of the bath. Blearily, she took in details of his appearance. He was still shirtless but he must have showered, because he was damp all over, his hair slicked back. It looked darker when it was wet, which in turn emphasized the faint crow’s-feet fanning out from his eyes and the lines bracketing his hard mouth.
It felt so good to be in his arms, she curled against him and tucked her face into his damp neck. He carried her into his bedroom.
“How long was I in here?” A wide yawn cracked her jaw.
“Maybe forty-five minutes.”
“Any news?”
“Nothing to speak of.”
Reluctantly, she roused. “Put me down. I need to dry my hair at least partway. If I don’t, it’ll go crazy.”
“Don’t be so picky.” He set her down, but on the bed, not on the floor. The covers had been pulled back. She rolled off the bed to avoid getting the sheets wet, only to have him scoop her up and put her on the bed again. “Nobody cares what your hair looks like.”
“I don’t recall you being this annoying when we spent nights together before,” she told him grumpily, scowling. “It has nothing to do with what I look like. When my hair gets too tangled, it takes forever to get it brushed out again, and besides, I don’t want to sleep on a wet pillow. Stop moving me around like that, damn it. I want a towel and a hair dryer.”
He frowned at her. “Stay there. I’ll be right back.”
Yawning again, she watched him walk into the bathroom. He had wrapped a towel around his waist, and it rode low on his hip bones. She imagined licking his skin along the top edge of the terry cloth and looked around as she forced herself to think of something else. The door to the room was closed, and a covered food tray sat on the table beside the armchair.
She had a brief impulse to explore the contents of the tray, but he reappeared again almost immediately, carrying two thick towels, a hair dryer and a brush. Setting the hair dryer and brush aside, he slung one towel across her lap. Taking the other one, he scooped the long dripping weight of her hair up and draped the towel across her shoulders. Then he took each side of the fluffy cloth to her head, rubbing her scalp with strong, gentle fingers.
The sensation ran down the length of her body. All the starch left her spine, and she slouched forward until she found herself leaning against the tight muscles of his lean waist.
She mumbled, “I can do it.”
“Sure you can,” he told her. “But you’re going to let me.”
“Why?”
“Because I need to,” he said quietly.
The words tugged her attention up to his face. Looking down at her, he caressed her cheek. His expression was introspective, brooding. Even though they were connected by the touch of his hand and by recent events, in that moment, there was something so alone and self-contained about him, she abandoned all impulse to argue and gave him an uncertain nod.
He plugged the dryer into an outlet by the bed and lifted long, curly strands of her hair with the brush, working out the tangles as he blow-dried them. More welcome warmth suffused her. She gave up trying to sit up straight and leaned forward to wrap her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek to his flat stomach. He stroked the back of her head, his long fingers pressing against the curve of her neck.
Maybe he couldn’t let down his barriers for her. Maybe their past was too heavy for them to leave behind. Maybe he couldn’t let his barriers down for anybody. He had spent such a very long time alone.
Unexpectedly, tears prickled at the back of her eyes. Pressing a kiss to his stomach, she whispered, “Tell me what the fuck you want me to do, and I’ll do it.”
He stood frozen and tense. When he clicked off the hair dryer, the resultant silence seemed shocking.
She had said it because she was remembering what he had said and done for her. Until she heard it out loud, it hadn’t occurred to her that the statement could sound so erotic.
She rubbed her face against him, reveling in the vitality of his bare, scarred skin. The white that had begun to frost the dark hair on his head had not yet reached the sprinkle of hair on his chest that arrowed down his abdomen. He was caught forever between masculin
e strength and mortality, at the height of his power with just a hint of the death that would never take him.
“Melisande.” Her name sounded wrenched out of him.
Glancing up, she saw that his expression had turned raw and open. He had hardened, and underneath the towel that cloaked him, his erection pressed against her collarbone.
Giving in to what she wanted to do felt like falling. Her own arousal pulsed as she pulled the towel from his waist and took him in both hands. As she touched him, he sucked in a breath. The long, heavy muscles of his thighs were taut and hard as steel.
The skin covering his penis felt silken. He was thick, the sensitive head broad, while veins traced the sides. His sac had pulled tight underneath. With one hand, she cupped his testicles, massaging gently as she rubbed his cock against her cheek.
She knew his body like an old, treasured companion. Verbally, they might have fought and caused each other pain, but physically, he had never given her anything but pleasure. She remembered and welcomed every detail about him, his clean, masculine scent, the warmth that radiated from him, the touch of his hands on her skin. Vampyres were supposed to run cooler than other races, but she had never found him cold.
She made a hungry, eager sound, parted her lips and took the tip of his cock in her mouth. Belatedly her mind caught up with what she had done.
Um, maybe she should have asked first. If somebody had grabbed her crotch and helped himself without so much as checking in with the rest of her, you can bet your ass she would react with a strategically aimed knee to the privates.
Just because he had an erection didn’t mean he was willing or prepared to act on it. People were complicated. Bodies were complicated. God only knew, it was tough enough to try to balance what was in the head versus what was in the heart, let alone trying to figure out how to meet the rest of a body’s needs as well.
Her face flooded with heat. Pulling back, she muttered, “Sorry.”
Incredulity sharpened his gaze. “You’re sorry?”