Twice Tempted (32 page)

When he finally drew away, slow tears were running down my cheeks. “I love you,” I whispered.

He brushed them away, a sardonic smile twisting his mouth. “And I love you, which is why I intend to lock you inside the house as soon as we’re home.”

I let out a watery chuckle. “You won’t need to. I’ll gladly stay put.”

Then I fingered my Kevlar vest, the only thing on me that hadn’t been chewed or ripped to shreds.

“This was a good idea. I must suck at being a covert operative. Cynthiana took one look at me and started shooting.”

The smile he flashed me reminded me of the fire that was so much a part of him—alluring yet deadly, consuming and yet quicksilver.

“It was her determination to kill you that doomed her. When she bewitched the tunnel-dwelling ghouls into a mindless murdering state, she cut off her exit behind her, leaving her nowhere to run except straight to me.”

I turned and stared at Cynthiana with a surge of coldness I hadn’t known I was capable of. “Time to take her home, and I hope you have a pole with her name on it.”

Chapter 46

A
few of Vlad’s men stayed behind to make sure any ghouls who survived the fire didn’t make their way to the Metro stations and try to eat the innocent commuters. The rest of us returned to his house via helicopters. As soon as we landed, I followed him and Cynthiana’s guard entourage into the dungeon. After being covered in enough rats to give me screaming nightmares, I might long for a shower more intensely than Midas had coveted gold, but I was seeing this through.

Vlad ordered Cynthiana chained onto the large stone monolith. Then he had Shrapnel brought in from the other side of the dungeon to be restrained next to her. He’d done his best to kill me, and yet I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pity at the grief in his expression when he saw her. Cynthiana, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be at all upset over her lover’s predicament. In fact, her gaze passed over him in a manner that could only be described as annoyed.

“He really was just a pawn to you, wasn’t he?” I asked in repugnance.

She didn’t answer, of course. Despite being captured, gagged with silver, and facing a truly horrible future, Cynthiana wasn’t cowed. Her gaze flicked over me in the way women perfected when they wanted to raze your self-esteem without saying a word, yet all I did was smile wide enough to show my new fangs. I might be covered in filth, blood, and rat hair, but a centuries-old vampire had nothing on the belittling looks I’d received while attending high school with a zigzagging scar, a limp, and the growing ability to shock anyone who touched me.

“Did I mention it was nice to see you again?” I almost purred. “Though you don’t remember the first time we met, do you?”

The look Vlad shot me was almost as surprised as hers. Then he went over to Cynthiana, ripping the silver from her mouth.

“If you utter one word of magic, I’ll fill you with enough silver to drive you mad before dawn.”

Cynthiana stared at Vlad for a long, silent moment before she looked my way dismissively.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, dearie. I’ve never seen you before tonight.”

“I don’t blame you for forgetting. You were busy staring at a young girl named Dawn who was performing under my stage name. You thought she was me, and that’s why you detonated the bomb right after she went into our trailer.”

Now her gaze raked over me with calculated intensity. “You used your hair and a hat to cover your scar,” she said at last.

“Habit. Now, let’s see what your worst sin is.”

With luck, it would lead us to whoever else she was working with. I came toward her and she recoiled as much as her restraints allowed.

“Don’t touch me.”

I didn’t reply, but grabbed her arm with my right hand. Only a faint current of electricity slid into her. I’d used most of it up on the ghouls she’d sent to kill me.

Then the dungeon disappeared, morphing into a room that didn’t look much different because it consisted entirely of stone walls. It seemed familiar, yet what I experienced next made me forget about that. By the time those surroundings faded and I was mentally back at the stone monolith, I snatched my hand away.

“You sick bitch,” I breathed.

“What?” Vlad asked instantly.

I stared at Cynthiana with loathing. “She needed a fireproofing spell, but she wasn’t strong enough to do it without crossing into the darkest kind of magic. So she did.”

And that magic had required the highest price: lifeblood of a newborn. I’d seen many terrible things through my abilities, but I’d never seen something as brutal as that.

“A fireproofing spell?” Vlad repeated. “Did you think that was the only defense you needed against me?”

She said nothing to that.

Then Vlad sighed. “I know you, Cynthiana. You would never cross me without a protector, so tell me who he is. Refuse, and I’ll find out after you’ve experienced more agony than you can imagine.”

She glanced away. “I have no protector.”

He laughed in that scary, humorless way.

“Yes you do, although you betrayed him because he wanted Leila alive.”

Why would Vlad think that? Every message Cynthiana sent Shrapnel after the bombing had been demands for him to kill me.

Then I remembered what Hannibal said after he’d kidnapped me.
You’re worth three times as much alive
. Dead was the only way Cynthiana wanted me, so Vlad was right. Someone else had been pulling her strings at least part of the time.

She glanced at me. The pure loathing in her gaze I expected; the fear, I didn’t. After Vlad’s threat, why would she be afraid of
me
? I’d already done all I could, though finding out her worst sin had revealed only revolting information, not useful—

“Vlad, wait,” I said, something about that stone room nagging at my memory.

“Shrapnel told you everything he knew about my abilities,” I said slowly, the idea still forming in my mind, “but you know more, don’t you? Like, for instance, my ability to feel other people’s essences in someone else’s skin.”

Her gaze widened while her scent changed to a putridly sweet aroma. I knew what that was. I’d smelled it all over this dungeon. It was the scent of fear.

Vlad caught it, too. His expression changed, chiseled features switching from chilling friendliness to sculpted granite.

“Who is he?”

Three soft words that managed to be filled with all the menace of a thousand shouted threats.

I stared at Cynthiana, measuring the spikes of hatred and fear in her gaze as I approached.

“Do you know what I overheard the first time I linked to you? You told Shrapnel,
Whatever she might have been worth to him alive, she’s less dangerous to us dead
.”

I let out a short laugh. “At the time, Shrapnel thought the ‘him’ was Vlad, but you really meant your new protector, didn’t you? He was interested in me and you already had the inside track.”

Then I glanced at Shrapnel. “Cynthiana came back into your life right around the time I came into Vlad’s, didn’t she?”

Pain creased his features, but Shrapnel said nothing. Maybe he was still trying to protect her. More likely, he was under the effects of a spell. Maybe he hadn’t betrayed Vlad or tried to kill me of his own free will.

A searing hand slid along my arm as Vlad drew near, yet he didn’t look at me. His gaze was fixed on Cynthiana.

“Your protector must be powerful or you wouldn’t bother with him. He’s also an enemy of mine or he wouldn’t dare risk my wrath by using one of my ex-lovers to kidnap another. That leaves a small list. Smaller still if he was interested in Leila before Shrapnel told you about her abilities.”

A very small list, indeed. In fact, I could only think of one name, and though it didn’t seem possible, it fit with the facts, right down to Hannibal’s capture-or-kill order. That hadn’t been the first time a vampire had been given those instructions regarding me, and while Cynthiana’s preference had been dead over alive, her protector disagreed.

Funny thing was, everyone except Maximus and Vlad thought my psychic abilities were gone when Hannibal kidnapped me. Cynthiana’s protector was either gambling that they’d come back . . . or he knew another reason why I’d be a valuable hostage.

Only one other vampire had guessed how Vlad really felt about me even before he’d admitted it to himself. The same vampire had attempted to use my abilities against Vlad before I even met him. It had been the reason we were first thrown together, but Mihaly Szilagyi had died in an inferno months ago.

Hadn’t he?

I took another step closer. Cynthiana thrashed in her restraints, eyes flashing emerald and fanged mouth snapping while she spat out threats as vicious as they were futile.

“Shut her up and hold her still,” I said quietly.

Vlad had her jaw in an unbreakable grip before the last word left my mouth. His other arm slammed across her waist so hard that I heard several ribs snap. Unlike the time Shrapnel pulverized my rib cage, her pain would last mere seconds until she healed. Unless she kept struggling, that was.

I closed my eyes when I touched her, glad my abilities let me relive a person’s worst sins only once. Then I let my right hand drift, seeking out other essences on her skin.

There, on her upper arm. A fresh one embedded with rage that I recognized instantly as belonging to Vlad. My hand roamed further, finding another one on the back of her neck. I didn’t recognize the imprint so I moved on, stroking her face while ignoring the furious noises she made in her throat.

Someone who loved her had left an imprint on her forehead, and with a pang, I recognized Shrapnel’s essence.

I continued on, not finding anything else on her upper body. I’d reached her left wrist when I felt it. A thread with a very familiar essence, made from someone touching her with enough threat to leave a permanent imprint in her skin.

I dropped my hand and opened my eyes.

“It’s him,” I said simply when I met Vlad’s gaze.

His eyes seemed to burst into green flame and a lava flow of rage poured over my emotions.

“What must I do to kill that man?” he muttered.

Then he released Cynthiana. By the time he strolled to the front of the pole, his thunderous expression had changed to a charming smile and that lava flow of rage to a glacier of determination.

“Tell me about how you conspired with Mihaly Szilagyi, and you can start with how the hell he managed to survive that explosion.”

“I think I know the answer,” I said, staring at Cynthiana without pity. “Burn something on her.”

Both her legs went up in flames. She screamed, thrashing in her restraints. Shrapnel began to yell, too, pleading with Vlad to stop. He didn’t until everything from her thighs down was covered in charred, blackened flesh.

As I watched Cynthiana start to heal with only the regular abilities that all vampires had, the final piece of the puzzle fell into place.

“You didn’t work that fireproofing spell for yourself. You did it for Mihaly Szilagyi, the only vampire who was both as strong as Vlad and as committed to hurting him as you were.”

My gaze swung back to Vlad. “
That’s
why he didn’t hesitate to set off that explosion when you had him trapped on the mountain. He knew if you found him there, the only way he’d get out alive was if you thought he was dead. Just like he did centuries ago.”

“The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist,” Vlad murmured, sounding like he was quoting from memory.

Then he smiled at Cynthiana. “Now, dearie,” he said in his most genial tone. “You’re going to tell me where he is.”

The much anticipated next Night Huntress novel is here!

Keep reading for a sneak peek and see what

Cat and Bones have been up to . . .

UP FROM THE GRAVE

by Jeaniene Frost

Available soon from Avon Books

I
gnoring a ghost is a lot more difficult than you’d think. For starters, walls don’t hinder their kind, so although I shut the door in the face of the specter loitering outside my house, he followed me inside as if invited. My jaw clenched in irritation, but I began unloading my groceries as though I hadn’t noticed. Too soon, I was done. Being a vampire married to another vampire meant that my shopping list was pretty short.

“This is ridiculous. You can’t keep shunning me forever, Cat,” the ghost muttered.

Yeah, ghosts can talk, too. That made them even harder to ignore. Of course, it didn’t help that this ghost was also my uncle. Alive, dead, undead . . . family had a way of getting under your skin whether you wanted them to or not.

Case in point: Despite my vow not to talk to him, I couldn’t keep from replying.

“Actually, since neither of us is getting any older, I
can
do this forever,” I noted coolly. “Or until you ante up on everything you know about the a-hole running our old team.”

“That’s what I came here to talk to you about,” he said.

Surprise and suspicion made my eyes narrow. For almost three months, my uncle Don had refused to divulge anything about my new nemesis, Jason Madigan. Don had a history with Madigan, a former CIA operative who’d taken over the secret government unit I used to work for, but he’d kept mum on the details even when his silence meant that Madigan had nearly gotten me, my husband, and other innocent people killed.
Now
he was ready to spill? Something else had to be going on. Don was so pathologically secretive that I hadn’t found out we were related until four years after I started working for him.

“What happened?” I asked without preamble.

He tugged on a gray eyebrow, a habit he couldn’t break even after losing his physical body. He also wore his usual suit and tie despite dying in a hospital gown. I’d think it was my memories dictating how Don appeared to me except for the hundreds of other ghosts I’d met. There might not be shopping malls in the afterlife, but residual self-image was strong enough to make others see ghosts the way they saw themselves. Don had been the picture of a perfectly groomed, sixty-something bureaucrat in life, so that’s what he looked like in death.