Vampire Assassin League Bundle 4 - Eternity (32 page)

He wouldn’t look again. It was a vow. That meant he’d get to work, sitting with his back to the alcove. He scooted a stool over to his table, fetched his ink pot, but when he set it down, it slid six inches before stopping. Lucien squatted and checked. Damn. The surface wasn’t level, although it wasn’t off by much. Maybe he should get a bit of kindling. Work on leveling it. He stood, and fought a pure physical urge to check on his alcove, and won.

This was ridiculous. So his repair job wasn’t pretty, it was still workable. It shouldn’t bother his penmanship. He’d toiled on worse surfaces in the past, and he was stalling. Besides, he could always figure out carpentry later, if repairing his manuscripts didn’t suffice at controlling the demons.

He piled his books and papers on the table next, sorting through them for the most critical ones. Setting aside those he’d find bookshelves for. Reading one hypothesis he’d completely forgotten.

Wait! Was that a sound?

He swiveled, cocking his head toward his alcove, and waited several long moments. Had she moved? Was she even now...stretching? Finding his pallet uncomfortable? Or maybe she wouldn’t even notice it through the paraphernalia she still wore on her back. Maybe he should’ve taken it from her. Released her from that hump-thing. Made her more comfortable. Perhaps he should...

No, Lucien. Stop.

The only sound was the continual thump of his heartbeat in his ears. Reminding him. Tormenting him. Tempting him. Was it the same as hers? Dare he check?

No!

His hands curled into fists and his arms crossed with bruising strength against his chest as he fought what was becoming truly demonic. He’d never dealt with such a thing. He had to find a way to calm it. He needed to stay busy. Concentrate harder. Lucien worked at unwinding his arms and then flexing fingers. He picked up his quill. Dipped it into the inkpot. Started the top swirl of a capital letter. Outlined it. Painted. Filling in where it had faded too much to see, except with his memory.

“Uh...hello?”

Lucien jumped at the voice behind him. The quill flew, landing some distance away, putting a splotch of black on his tabletop before it rolled to a stop. His eyes went wide as he watched it. He didn’t even have his hood up! There wasn’t anything to hide behind. Nothing to shadow the scar in his cheek, misshapen because his tormentor had been shaking, and Lucien hadn’t stayed still while they applied it. They’d been branding him with what was supposed to be a cross. Instead it was an “X” shape that started at his temple and bit into his cheek, one end just touching the corner of his left eye while the other reached the bottom of his ear. He’d seen it once. Long ago. Back when he’d had a reflection. It was puckered at the edges, dark red, and very deep.

Ugly.

“Are you Lucien?”

He turned toward her and immediately swiveled back around.
Oh, no!
His afterlife just got harder to endure. One glimpse was too much! His mate wasn’t just pretty. She was beautiful! Exquisite. And immensely womanly. The sound he’d heard earlier must’ve been her removing whatever disfiguring attire she’d worn. There wasn’t anything about her curves except a skin-tight outfit of some kind. He started shaking. And absolutely nothing stopped it.

“I’m Ashley.”

She was immune to his sufferings. Or blind. Lucien kept his head turned from her, hiding the left side as she walked past the table. He heard her movements as she found his other lab stool – the taller one – and brought it over. He supposed she perched atop it next. He squashed the urge to check. But nothing prevented him from watching as she picked up his quill and brought it toward her perfect nose as if examining it.

“You are Lucien...aren’t you?”

He grunted something. It was the best he could manage. Anything else would contain a shuddering that wouldn’t cease. And there was a knot in his throat, capable of blocking sound.

“I’m going to say that’s an affirmative answer and go from there. Wow. That Akron needs a bit more description to his words.”

“Akron?”

The knot shifted. Pained. He had to swallow around it. But something resembling his voice came out. It was rough-edged, and gruff, but it worked.

“Yeah. He said you studied alchemy under Giordano Bruno. Back in the middle ages. He didn’t say you were stuck there.”

“I’m not.”

He’d been right. The words contained a hint of trembling. He should keep to one word answers. But she didn’t seem to notice or care. Or even seem affected.

“Well. Lucien.” She rolled his quill between her fingers, dripping more ink onto his table surface. His back straightened at the abuse. “I have to tell you. Typewriters were invented...oh, a century or so ago. And then we moved onto computers with keyboards. And believe it or not, you don’t even need those to write anymore. You can just talk into your phone.”

“Really?” He finally answered.

“Look. Lucien. Let’s clear the air, okay? I understand you want your solitude. And I get that you’re territorial. Trust me. Anyone messes with my graduated cylinders and Erlenmeyer flasks, and I’m totally ticked.”

“You know lab equipment?” It was getting easier to talk. He didn’t wonder at why. He was just grateful.

“I’ve got my bachelors in forensic science. I’m going for my PhD.”

“But...you’re a woman.”

“Oh. True. I am. That’s what happens when fertilization happens with an X chromosome, rather than a Y one. Anything else?”

Lucien blinked. Focused on the letter he’d been working on. He didn’t know what to say.

“You’re not one of those misogynist guys, are you? Because I have to tell you, inequality of the sexes went out with the quill and ink stuff, too.”

“Inequality?”

She laughed. His entire body lurched toward her at the sound. Lucien tightened every muscle against it and clamped his legs to the stool. It moved more than an inch before stopping. She didn’t seem to notice that, either.

“I thought you were a victim of the Inquisition. Not a member of it.”

“Akron told you...of that?”

“Among other things. So, ‘fess up already. Were you a member of the clergy? And is that why you have such a slanted view on women?”

“I was schooled in a monastery.”

“Right. I’m going to guess that was before you met up with Bruno. I’m going to also guess that means you’re steeped in the nonsense that woman are the root of all evil. I don’t suppose you’re open to a debate over it?”

“Debate?”

He was answering in small sentences that disguised any intelligence. He just hoped they hid the surges he kept making toward where she sat. Perched on a stool on his right. Slightly above him. Sounding blissfully unaware of what was turning into raging need and rampaging desire. He’d never dealt with such things before. His teeth were even elongating, lifting his upper lip for room. And if he couldn’t control his own body any better than this, he certainly wasn’t going to win any debate. Or even present a challenge.

“First off, we need to ascertain what evil is, and if such a thing exists. And then we can argue who, or what, is behind it. And then we can go into the debate over intelligence and strengths of the sexes. Or lack, thereof. I’m warning you in advance, Lucien. You are not going to win.”

Win? He was struggling for control over the basest of urges. Winning anything verbal was beyond comprehension at the moment.

“No answer? Again? Why do I bother? You’re probably still trying to change lead into gold. But Akron said I could use your lab. So. We need to figure out how to make that work. If – of course – you even have a lab worth using.”

Oh. That was pure insult. She meant it that way. Somehow that sent a drop of cool onto what was becoming an inferno. It wasn’t much, but it helped.

“Why on earth am I still talking to you? You won’t even turn and face me.”

Lucien narrowed his eyes and turned toward her, knowing the torchlight illuminated his scarred side. Oh. She was gorgeous. She still had her hair pulled back into a braid. That just highlighted her perfection. There wasn’t a scar or pock or blemish anywhere on her. She had green-colored eyes. They were wide and surrounded by lashes that cast shadows onto the cheeks he’d noted earlier. And those cherubic cheeks were tinted pink. She had a perfect mouth, too, the lips full and lush. He watched them to see if her jaw dropped. It didn’t. Nothing on her looked like disgust. Or dismay. She didn’t appear to have any reaction to him at all.

“Well. That’s the first hurdle. And it wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

She smiled. His heart took a decided dive right into his abdomen, where it pounded heavily from there. That was a new sensation.

Then again, everything was.

CHAPTER FIVE

Okay
.

There was handsome. There was drop-dead gorgeous. And there was ‘smack-you-in-the-middle-of-the-forehead-before-slamming-you-on-your-ass’ sexy. And right now, those monikers were all useless bits of words. Ashley had never seen anything to compare to Lucien. He was beyond description. She’d never come up against such a combination of wicked, dark, dangerous, and sexy. The space seemed to hum with it
.
And that was before she added in his fangs. They were impossible to ignore, especially since he had his upper lip lifted, forming a semi-snarl.

The guy was killer sexy.

And even that description failed when she factored in the mark on one side of his face. If his torturers had meant to mutilate him, they’d botched it. That scar only added unnecessary dimension to Lucien’s appeal...especially since one line of it snagged against his lower left eye, looking like it became part of his eyeliner. But that was ridiculous. He didn’t wear eyeliner. It just looked like it because he had such thick, black lashes. And they surrounded dark, bottomless eyes. Eyes that deep were impossible to tap and fathom, but damn how she wanted to try! She could gaze into them for hours. Days. Weeks.

Holy crap
.

The moment she got a good look at him, her throat closed off, while every pore on her body went on the alert. Instantly. Fully. With the efficiency of a firehouse siren in the middle of the night. It took everything she had to hide it. And nowhere was it safe to look. She’d been talking to him with her usual efficient, professional tone and then wham! Efficiency and professionalism at anything went right out the window. She had no idea vampires were so sexy, although every stupid movie and story usually had that as a theme. Ashley hadn’t paid much attention. Vampires were unreal creatures. Fictitious beings. Imaginary bits of fluff used to entertain and titillate.

And man! Was that all wrong.

She had the proof right in front of her. Vampires not only existed, they were ultra-sexy. No. Wait. That wasn’t right. Akron was a vampire, but he hadn’t done a thing to her, while this Lucien was sending her hormones into another realm. Even his tan-colored robe-thing exuded sexiness. It was pretty plain, but he didn’t look to be wearing much beneath it. Just the view of his throat and upper chest was more than unnerving. It was shiver-inducing. This guy could stop traffic. He probably did.
No. Wait
. He rarely left his lab. Good thing. He’d create a riot. He’d have trouble walking without stumbling over all the women littering his path.
Well
. Ashley Evans wasn’t willing to join them. Not with his jaundiced opinion of her gender. She refused to give him even a hint of what he was doing to her. Besides, there wasn’t any justification for it. She was a scientist. Sex was a biological function. Passion and attraction were chemical reactions. Lust was an over-rated emotion, used as often for punishment as for pleasure.

She’d been trained on all the biologically necessary stimuli. Mankind wouldn’t survive without it. She’d passed the tests. She’d even agreed with most of it. And all that knowledge couldn’t stop her hormones from reacting like this? And...wait just a minute. Wasn’t she supposed to be dead? Unreasonable, supreme, sensual attraction shouldn’t even be an issue, let alone one that scrambled her wits and weakened her limbs. And that was just from looking!

She managed to break the gaze, focusing on the tabletop while she swallowed on a dry throat to make her voice work again. “You...do have a laboratory around here, then? One, worth using?”

There was the slightest pause after the first word, but the rest came out fine. And it didn’t betray the shivers.

He pulled something from somewhere inside his robe, set it on the table, and pushed a button. Everything behind her lit up. Ashley spun, catching her second revolution with both hands against the table behind her. She
really
needed to figure out this movement thing before she hurt herself. And that was just stupid. She shouldn’t feel pain. She couldn’t be hurt.

She was dead.

So why did she still feel so alive? And awkward? Immature and confused?

Apparently, Lucien had remote controlled lighting. And a hell of a lot of it. Ashley blinked and then stared. The space that had been simply cavernous blackness was now easily identifiable as a lab, although the two-story, black rock fireplace at the far end gave it a decided medieval feel. He had long tables, all sorts of equipment, some shrouded with dust cloths, some easily identified. Beakers. Stands. Ring clamps. Tube holders. Bunsen burners. Pinch clamps. Buret clamps, wire screens. Akron hadn’t been off on his description of this laboratory. Lucien had the basics and then some.

“What kind of microscopes do you have?” she asked.

“All kinds. From all eras. I don’t discard them.”

“Do you have a transmission electronic microscope?”

“Several.”

“How about a high resolution spectrometer?”

“In the corner.”

“I don’t suppose you have a bio-molecular computer? For DNA sequencing...should I need it?”

“Of course.”

“Wow. Just...wow. Okay. I’ll save the gushing for later, and just go fetch my pack, then.”

“Gushing?”

“Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

Damn
. She really needed to figure out how to move. She was back from the alcove with her parachute pack before the stool she’d been sitting on finished falling. The table was what stopped her as she slammed into it. And then it got worse. The darn thing not only cracked in half, but one part slid about three inches, shuffling some of his papers and rattling his ink pot. For some reason, the emotion that filled her wasn’t embarrassment. Or anger at her inability to control her own movements. Or even confusion. It was something baser. Darker. More illicit.