Night's Honor (29 page)

When the gates to the estate opened wide and Raoul drove them through, Tess grew teary.

She had lived in a variety of houses, with other people's families, but now, for the first time in her life, she came home.

When they parked, everyone poured out of the vehicles, and the people who had been waiting on the estate—Jordan, Peter, Angelica and Enrique—came out to greet the newcomers with hugs.

Xavier was the center of most of the attention. Tess smiled to see how relieved and glad the others were to see him.

She was immensely surprised and touched when Angelica turned to give her a hug. “Raoul filled us in on everything,” Angelica said in her ear. “I told you, you were a good kid. I'm glad you're back safe and sound.”

“Thank you,” Tess said, returning the hug. “It's good to be back.”

After the first flurry of activity was over, Raoul pointed a finger at Xavier. “You're done for the day. Go to bed. Doctor's orders.”

Xavier narrowed his eyes, and for a moment, the imperious aristocrat showed in his expression. But he did look pale and tired.

Tess put a hand on his arm. She said, “Please.”

He relented. “Very well.”

Taking her hand, he brought her along with him. She walked alongside him through the house. There, she glimpsed the formal dining room where the place settings were still laid out, along with the books Xavier had told her to read. And there, on the other side of the hall, was the jewel of the beautiful house, the shadowed, empty ballroom, waiting for people and music to fill it.

She had only glanced in that direction, as she had fully expected they would go upstairs to Xavier's master suite, but unexpectedly, Xavier veered away from the stairs and tugged her into the ballroom.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I couldn't resist,” he told her. “I've been wanting to get back here ever since we left.”

“Me too.”

He opened his arms and she walked into them, sighing as he pulled her close. His cheek came down on her hair, and she nestled her face into his neck.

I'm in love, she thought.

With a Vampyre.

There were issues—my God, there were issues.

Setting aside political unrest and assassination attempts, the age difference alone was enough to make her eyes cross.

Xavier would never grow old, while she would, and didn't you know, something about that would have to change eventually. And while the medieval Spanish nobleman in him was unutterably charming, she had already butted heads with him, and would do so again.

She tried to get scared, but she just couldn't manage it. He felt too strong in her arms, too stable. If there was any time in her life she was going to voluntarily place a bet on something, it would be now, on Xavier.

On them.

He put his mouth close to her ear and whispered, “You aren't by any chance trying to run away in your head again, are you? Because if you are, you know what will happen.”

“You'll come after me,” she whispered back.

“I will always come after you.” His arms tightened. “We have barely begun, and there are too many good things ahead of us.”

“I'm a little intimidated by everything,” she told him. “But I'm not going anywhere.”

She heard the smile in his voice. “Because you never run when you're scared.”

“Damn straight.” But despite her strong words, her shoulders tensed. Thinking of Malphas, she amended, “Unless that's the smartest thing to do.”

“Ssh,
querida
.” He rubbed her back. “Listen.”

At first she thought he meant to say something else, and she waited for him to speak, but he remained silent.

Gradually, she grew aware of sounds coming from another part of the house. Voices, talking together, and a burst of laughter. She caught a glimpse of others outside, carrying luggage to the attendants' house, and she realized the strength of the community that surrounded them.

“Do you hear it?” he asked quietly.

“Yes.” She rubbed her cheek against the soft cotton of his shirt.

“I have faith that everything will be all right,” he told her. “I might have been broken before, but I never lost my faith.”

She lifted her head and looked into his shadowed gaze. “I believe you.”

He cocked his head and gave her a teasing smile. “Before we head upstairs, shall we try to waltz for ninety seconds?”

Something light and buoyant bubbled up inside. She said, “Oh, why the hell not?”

Looking very tired now, but immensely pleased with himself, he clasped her in the correct position, at the precise distance, and she took his hand and placed her fingertips on his shoulder.

He said under his breath, “One-two-three, one-two-three. . . .”

When he nodded to her, she stepped backward.

EPILOGUE

I
n southern California, the sun was just setting over the ocean, throwing ribbons of spectacular light and color across the sky, as Melisande reached her Malibu residence. She climbed stiffly out of the black Lincoln town car while the driver opened the trunk and pulled out her luggage.

Melly was in a foul mood, and her leg and hip ached abominably. While her skiing trip had been fun, she knew she shouldn't have taken that last slope, but the snow had been so damn perfect—what they called champagne powder—so even though she had been tiring, she had thought, what the hell. One last downhill trip for the road.

Famous last words.

She'd gone downhill, all right. She'd hit a submerged rock and tumbled down the slope on her ass, on her stomach, sprawled every which way but upright.

While she was lucky she hadn't broken any bones, now everything hurt. Worst of all, her head ached like a son of a bitch. She was supposed to be on the set for her new movie in the morning, and she had lines to memorize.

Unlocking her front door, she told the driver, “Just set everything in here in the hall, thanks.”

“No problem.” The driver set her Louis Vuitton cases just inside the door and gave her a bright smile, eyes shining. “Ms. Aindris, I'm such a big fan of yours. Would you mind—could I have your autograph?”

Setting aside her own issues, she gave the nervous man a smile. “It would be my pleasure.”

Signing her name on the back of his business card, she tipped him generously and breathed a sigh of relief when he left and she could close the door on the rest of the world. As the last of the daylight faded, she limped through the downstairs and flipped on lights.

While she had a cell phone, she kept a landline too, and as she passed the answering machine, she punched the PLAY button.

Julian's rough, deep voice filled the room. “Melly, pick up. I know you're avoiding me . . . this is important, damn it.”

Her stomach lurched, and she almost picked up the phone before she remembered she wasn't speaking to him, and besides, the message was an old one, about the stupid trade agreements, and Xavier had already handled it.

“Damn it,” she muttered under her breath.

She played the message again, just to hear the sound of his voice, that rough, low voice of his that would brush over her skin like crushed velvet. . . .

How many years had it been since they'd tangled together, wrapped in nothing but a sheet and their own passion?

How pathetic was she?

It was a good thing she couldn't stand him anymore.

She jabbed the DELETE button and stopped the message replay, in case one of the other messages was him again.

Then she limped toward the liquor cabinet.

Vodka. Vodka vodka vodka.

Her doorbell rang. She almost ignored it, except she lived in a gated community, and there were only so many people who had access to her front doorstep.

With a sigh, she changed course and went to open the front door.

Justine stood outside, her beautiful face wreathed in a warm smile. “Hi, Melly. I hope you don't mind me stopping by unannounced.”

“Justine, what on earth are you doing in Malibu?”

“I came down to LA to meet with your mother, and I just had to take a detour to say hi.” Justine opened her arms.

Melly stepped across the threshold to give her a hug.

When she would have pulled back, Justine's grip turned to iron. “I'm truly sorry, my love,” Justine said in her ear. “Your mother and I have known each other for a long time, and I really enjoy you. But things haven't gone so well for me lately, and you're much too valuable a piece of leverage for me to ignore right now.”

Struggle as she might Melly couldn't break Justine's hold. The Vampyre was too old, too Powerful.

Taking her by the chin, Justine forced Melly to look into her gaze. Melly couldn't look away.

The world went black.

Turn the page for a sneak peek at Thea Harrison's next novel of the Elder Races

MIDNIGHT'S KISS

Coming soon from Berkley Sensation

C
ome on, Melly, will you wake up already?” someone demanded. An impatient woman, with a familiar voice. “Hell's bells, I didn't realize I compelled you to go down that hard. Sometimes I don't know my own strength.”

Melly had been having the strangest dream.

The first part had been awesome. She dreamed she was skiing, whipping along the downhill slope so fast she could hear the wind whistle in her ears. Gods, she loved that rush.

Something snagged her left ski, and she lost all control. The world flipped as she tumbled head over heels. Ow. Ow. Ow.

Then with the sneaky suddenness that dreams could sometimes have, the scene shifted and she landed in a sprawl in her Malibu living room. Through the open archway that led to her bedroom, she saw Julian lying in her bed.

The tangled sheets had fallen around his hips. She knew from memory every muscled bulge and hollow of his broad, scarred chest. Her heart started to pound as she stared at him. It'd been so long since they'd been together, so very long.

Could it be possible for skin to feel hungry? Her skin ached for the sensation of his rough, callused fingers.

His white flecked dark hair tousled, he watched her with wolflike eyes. “Pick up your damn phone will you?” he snapped.

He was such a killjoy. Furiously, she threw her phone at him, and he blurred to catch it. As she watched, Julian crushed the phone in one hand.

“Okay,” the director said. (Who was directing this film? Squinting, she tried to look past the bright set lights.) “We need just one more thing before we call it a wrap. Come on, Melly—give us one of your awesome screams. Wake up and don't hold back, just let 'er rip.”

Obligingly, she tried to open her mouth to belt out a good one, but she still had her skiing helmet on with the chin guard, and somebody had added a mouthpiece to it that was actually kind of making it hard to breathe. She struggled, trying to get her hands free so she could tear off the mouthpiece, but somebody had put her in a straitjacket . . .

That couldn't be right. They finished the film with the straitjacket years ago.

What the hell?

Her eyes popped open.

Someone, a Vampyre male, was carrying her over his shoulder, fireman style. Her head bobbed upside down. She had pinned her long, curling hair into a loose chignon, and it had slipped sideways over one ear. Strong, bobbing beams of light illuminated a rough stony hallway.

Not a hallway. A tunnel.

She was gagged, and her wrists and ankles tied.

Panic struck. She erupted into wild struggles.

She almost managed to flip out of the strange male's hold, but swearing, he hoisted her into a more secure position and wrapped his arms around her thighs.

Someone bent over her and smacked her over the ear so hard her head rang. “Behave.”

Craning her neck, she stared up at a beautiful, young-looking woman with auburn hair. A very familiar woman, and a very old Vampyre, one of the most Powerful in the Nightkind demesne. Justine.

The wrongness of the situation rocketed around Melly's mind. She had gone skiing, and had just returned to her Malibu home to get ready for her next shoot, when Justine had shown up on her doorstep. After that—nothing.

While she couldn't talk physically, she could telepathically.
Justine,
she said tensely.
What the fuck are you doing?

Justine petted her head then removed the gag. “There, there,” said the Vampyre. “Everything will probably be okay.”

Everything will
probably
be okay?

“What are you talking about!” Her head ached, and she struggled to think past it.

There was no way Melly could have been prepared for this, none.

When Melly went out in public, she was usually attended by a guard or two, but her Malibu home was in a gated community with a good security system. Other actors and celebrities lived in the community, and normally, Melly felt perfectly safe there. Normally, she would never have imagined someone like
Justine
would kidnap her.

Justine had been on friendly terms with Melly's mother, Tatiana, the Light Fae Queen, for a very long time, and she had made friendly overtures to Melly for years.

Justine straightened and said to the man, “Put her in this one.”

Melly looked around wildly as the man carried her into a cell, an honest to goodness, dungeon-y cell that had been hewn out of rock with metal bars and a door fitted across the opening.

The man dumped her unceremoniously on the floor with such force, her hair slipped half out of its knot. She felt a couple of hairpins slide down her neck and drop into her top.

Breathing heavily, Melly almost planted her foot in the Vampyre's face. She could have done it. She was fast enough, angry enough, and she'd certainly had her own fair share of training. Tatiana had insisted both her daughters learn self-defense.

But while she might be able to kick the shit out of Vampyre Guy, she knew she was no match for Justine, who leaned against the open cell door, watching. And she still hoped to get somewhere by talking.

“Justine,” she said. “I don't know what's going on, or why you felt compelled to kidnap me, but if we go to my mom and we just talk it over, I'm sure we can figure out how to fix things.”

Justine smiled at her. “Look at you,” the Vampyre said. “Pretty and well-meaning, and stupid as a poodle. I've always had a soft spot for you, Melly, but some things can't get fixed by running to your mom for help.”

Melly angled out her jaw as both fury and worry deepened. Well first, Justine was just plain wrong, because her mom was the most formidable woman Melly had ever met.

But with Justine kidnapping Melly and refusing to talk to Tatiana, this was bad, really bad. She said between her teeth, “What did you do?”

“I took a gamble and it didn't go so well. So, now I'm taking another gamble.” The Vampyre met Melly's gaze. “We're going to find out if Julian has any lingering feelings for you. I'm thinking he might, and if he does, how far will he go to see that you're safe? Would he even trade himself for you?” As Justine smiled, a tip of her descended fangs showed between her red lips.

Melly's stomach clenched. Justine had slipped some kind of leash, and if she felt she needed leverage against Julian, something terrible had happened in the Nightkind demesne. “You're going to be sadly disappointed,” she said bitterly. “What Julian and I shared ended a long time ago.”

“We'll see. Sometimes old feelings refuse to die.” Justine told Vampyre Guy, “Strip those pins out of her hair, and pat her down to make sure she doesn't have anything in her pockets. When you're done, untie her.”

Obediently Vampyre Guy yanked his hands through Melly's long curls, pulling out hairpins. He was none too gentle about it, and tears sprang to her eyes at the pain in her scalp. When he was finished, he ran his hands down every inch of her body, untied her wrists and legs, straightened and stepped out of the cell.

Justine reached inside to set a jug of water and a package on the floor. “Here's enough food and water for a day, along with a small LED flashlight. The batteries aren't going to last you a full twenty-four hours, so I would use it sparingly, if I were you. Someone will bring you more food and water tomorrow, most likely. Hang tight—we'll know soon enough what Julian will do.”

Most likely.

Most likely bring her more food and water.

Melly's breath shook in her throat. Which meant Justine was fully prepared to cut ties and abandon her if things didn't go her way.

Taking her lantern, Justine shut the door of the cell and locked it with a key. “'Bye, darling.”

Fuck you. Darling.

Melly didn't have a very aggressive personality, but she was pretty sure she could murder Justine's ass if she got half the chance.

The light faded gradually as Justine and Vampyre Guy left. Before it disappeared completely, she lunged for the packet Justine had left on the floor, located the flashlight and turned it on and off several times to test it.

It worked. The beam of light was small and thin, but it was infinitely better than the intense, complete darkness.

She forced herself to turn it off. Then, in the darkness, she wrapped her arms around herself, shaking.

After a while, stirring, she whispered, “Poodles are smart.”

Twisting, she groped down the back of her neck until her fingers connected with what she was searching for. Snagging it, she pulled out the hairpin that had slipped down her top earlier.

Poodles could also bite when someone least expected it.