Vampire Assassin League Bundle 4 - Eternity (8 page)

 “Uh... my sanctuary.”

“Sanctuary?”

“I had it specially designed. Attic room. Hidden behind one of the fireplace walls.”

“What... time... is it?” she asked.

“The sun has just set. And I mean
just
set. I must have forgotten that.”

Oh no. She’d had the best lovemaking session of her life and then slept all day? What would Stan be thinking?

“I have to get up.”

“Yes,” he replied.

“And I have to get dressed.”

“Yes,” he replied again.

“I don’t suppose you have anything in my size?”

“I’ve got your suitcases. There were four of them, yes? In matching tan leather. You don’t travel light, do you?”

“I’m planning an extension of this trip to Ohio to see my aunt and her family, and – wait a minute. Why do you have my luggage?”

“You’ll need it. Unlike some of my compatriots, I didn’t have the foresight to purchase a wardrobe just for you. Foolish. I know.”

“All right. Let’s just move past that non-answer. Have I been asleep all day?”

“Not... literally,” he replied.

 “Literally?”

“How do you feel? Are you ready to get up? Get dressed?” He held out his hand as if she’d take it.

“What’s going on? And explain it in plain terms, okay?”

He pulled in his cheeks and moved from their eye connection to look at something over her right ear. Even if Sydney wasn’t well-versed in what a lying face looks like, she’d have still known one was coming.

“Nothing much.”

“Define nothing. And then you can clarify the much portion of that.”

He looked back to her. She got sucked into his gaze again. It wasn’t hard. It was actually difficult to think of doing anything else. He had eyes just formed for delving deep into. Losing oneself in. They were impossibly tempting. Incredibly dark. Mysterious. Her nipples tightened. Something flitted through her belly, and it did resemble the butterflies from poetry. Her thighs quivered. Her loins joined in. Moistening. Preparing. All of her seemed steeped in anticipation of something so vast she had no description, and then he ruined it.

“Ah. Love. If only—! Please. I beg you. You need to cease that and rise. Get dressed. Please. Now.”

“Right now?”

“Time is our biggest enemy at the moment.”

Her shoulders fell. She sighed. And then she just opened her mouth and put it in words. “Are you that desperate to get rid of me?” she asked.

His eyes flared. The glass globes matched it, sending intense light into the room before they sank back into the dimness. Sydney blinked once. That was another unusual item. Her pupils hadn’t even reacted. She hadn’t even squinted.

“Take my hand. Now.”

“Why?”

“I will explain everything later. I promise. Once we’re airborne. But please. For now, you must hurry. Get dressed.”

“What’s wrong with now? You have another appointment—excuse me. Did you just say airborne?”

“We have a flight scheduled.”

“Not a chance, Devereaux. I’m not going anywhere.”

The close-lipped growl he gave was probably an answer. But it wasn’t one she wanted to hear, anyway. Sydney tipped her head to the side.

“Okay, Devereaux. I’ll play along, but just because it’s entertaining. Where. Exactly. Are we flying to?”

“Belize.”

“Belize?”

“Central America. It’s a very small country, just below Mexico.”

“I know where Belize is.”

“Then hurry. Please?”

“Why? Are we going to miss our flight?”

“We have a private jet. Come. Hurry.”

“You know, most guys ask, Devereaux.”

“Most guys don’t have a Hunter on their ass, a film crew overtaking their heretofore peaceful abode, or such an argumentative woman to deal with, either.”

“Oh. Right. Argumentative? Me?”

“Sydney, please. This Hunter I speak of. He’s good. He left Denver this morning. He’s had all day to hunt you.”

“Me?”

“It’s not going to take him long to find you, either. You’re way too noticeable.”

“
I’m
noticeable? Look who’s talking.”

“You disappeared from a film scout crew. That is noticeable. Even here. In New Orleans. In this day and age.”

Her mouth opened to contend that but a blur stopped her. It crossed the section of bed before her, shifting air, and sending a whining noise. She didn’t even have time to gasp before Devereaux launched through the space, his right hand snagging what looked like a spear; an archaic, deadly, five-foot long, spear.

That had been sent right at her.

Sydney would’ve screamed, but didn’t have time. Devereaux landed on the far side of the bed, the spear in his right hand while his left arm was fully about her waist. And she hadn’t even felt him yanking her down to crouch on the floor beside him. Thudding sounds followed, one atop the next, in a rapidity of sound and sensation. The wood beside her cheek echoed with it. And when she peeked, her eyes were riveted to the headboard which was now sprouting innumerable arrows as if some hedgehog had decided to burrow into the wood.

And then everything filled with hellish liquid fire. Droplets rained down onto them as if a sprinkling system had decided to react, spewing acid. Or something worse. Sydney couldn’t look to see. The moment the hiss of sound came, Devereaux reacted, bundling her into a ball within his arms, his body taking the brunt of the assault. It had to be impossibly painful. Just the hint of air-borne mist pained her eyes, burned her throat, while Devereaux jerked and tensed, every move accompanied with an agonized grunt.

And then a canister hit the polished wood floor beside them, rolling to a stop near her toes. Devereaux leapt upward, taking her with him. They landed atop the canopy, Dev straddling one of the posts while Sydney clung to him, her arms and legs locked about his torso. The acid-stuff hurt and it warped the view, making a filter of green and blue sparkles she had to look through. She squinted. Blinked away the moisture. And spied their tormentor the same moment Dev did. She could feel it as everything about him tensed; predator spotting prey; defender finding killer.

A man stood just inside the room, illuminated by light that poured in from where he’d apparently burst through the door. He was large, or maybe he only looked that size through the mist and silhouetted as he was. He was definitely a hunter. The green camouflage attire screamed that fact. As did the crossbow in one arm, the strange rifle-thing in the other, and the big night vision goggles on his face.

Dev moved. Sydney moved with him. And the hunter went from standing, ready to send some other noxious weapon toward where they’d been huddled, to a large chunk of meat slammed and then pinned to a wall. The spear Dev had launched had gone right through the man’s torso. It didn’t appear to have killed him instantly, because gurgling noises accompanied the wash of dark fluid starting to stain the wallpaper on its way down toward the floor. Sydney couldn’t move her eyes. Fascinated at the blood. Horrified at the carnage. Intrigued at the essence. Drawn by the scent. Enthralled by the sight. Something weird was happening. Her mouth was altering. Her canines felt really strange. She ran her tongue along her upper teeth and felt the sting as razor-sharp teeth sliced her own flesh. And the instant taste of blood caused such an ache for sustenance, she trembled with it.

“You okay?” Dev whispered it.

She nodded.

“You may not want to watch this.”

Devereaux’s muscles flexed, and he tightened his arm about her before he jumped, taking her with him to land lithely on the floor beside the pinned man. She heard the groan of the bed frame behind them as it absorbed the maneuver.

“Why not?” The words were slurred, almost unintelligible. That’s what came of a swelling tongue, outsized canines, and increasing thirst. That was more oddity.

“I’m going to feed. And we never take fluid from a corpse.”

“We...don’t?”

“Not if we have a choice. Leaves a terrible after-taste. The carrion can have them.”

“He isn’t dead?”

“Not yet. Uh... Sydney? Love? Um... perhaps I’d better explain a few things. You ready?”

Devereaux whispered it to the space near her ear. Sydney turned her head toward him, slit her eyes to view the perfect span of neck he put on display, licked her lips. And bit him.

CHAPTER TEN

Sydney slid her index fingers along her upper teeth again, checking for abnormalities. Enlargement. Oddities. Anything out of the normal.

Face it, Syd. You’re looking for fangs.

So if she
had
fangs, she wondered how and when fangs worked. She’d tried forcing growth. She’d concentrated on focusing and experiencing each canine, imagining them as spikes that tore into flesh and sucked blood. She knew that happened. She’d done it. To Devereaux. She’d refused to suck blood from that hunter guy. Sydney had shuddered at how gross it all was, before trying anew. They were controllable. They had to be. She re-focused. Nothing much happened.

So, she’d tried something different. She’d sent her mind past just her canines, moving to encompass her entire mouth, her lips, tongue... her palate. Other than a loud buzz through her ears, she’d gotten nothing for that, either. It was still better than trying to ignore where Devereaux sat across the little table from her, in what was a very nicely-appointed main cabin in a very expensive-looking private jet. She refused to look at him after the first time. He wasn’t making it easy, either, sprawled as he was in a chair, one arm dangling over an armrest, while the other armrest held his thigh. Occasionally he swung his leg, as if taunting her not to take notice. The guy was a complete failure at air traffic safety. And that was a really stupid thought.

But damn everything. Did he have to be so masculine? So incredibly gorgeous? So physically fit? So stinking perfect? That attire of his did nothing to help, either. His t-shirt and jeans seemed fashioned to make sure she noticed every bit of his physique. Hell. It looked like he displayed it for her.

Oh, bugger
.

Her teeth tingled beneath her fingertips as she mentally reconstructed the image of him, despite not looking. Her canines didn’t enlarge, though. Nothing sharp grew. Sydney checked for it surreptitiously, as if there was nothing on her agenda other than studying the span of aircraft wing outside the window at her left ear.

“What are you doing?”

She dropped her hands to her lap as Devereaux slid soundlessly into the swivel captain chair beside her matching one. She placed him by his voice, since nothing reflected in the window other than the rest of the cabin interior.

Well, at least that was an accurate bit of vampire lore. They didn’t have a reflection. Neither of them.

“I am not speaking to you, Devereaux,” she told the window.

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t give you time-out like my parents used to do to me. Well. I can. But I probably can’t enforce it.”

“Time out?”

“Yes. Time-out. In the corner. It’s a form of punishment.”

“Punishment? For what?”

“For what? You are truly unbelievable. I was just coming to grips with the reality of pushing thirty, I’ve got a mountain of college debt that I might never repay – especially since all I can land in the film industry are peon jobs that barely cover rent – and then add in my failed marriage and the news that I’m never going to be a mother without involving science, because that’s what happens after two ectopic pregnancies and a hysterectomy. And why on earth am I telling you this, anyway? It’s totally old news, completely personal, and I’m not even supposed to be speaking to you. Remember?” Her voice caught. She hoped he wouldn’t notice.

“Why are you telling me, then?”

He hadn’t noticed. “Hmm. Good question. Look. Dev. I like to think I’m a rational person. Not prone to fits of hysteria. Fairly normal, really – if a bit inventive. But this? This? Well. This is beyond even my imagination.”

“What is?”

“Are you for real? I’m a vampire! That means I’m dealing with being dead. D. E. A. D. Dead. Oh bugger. I should probably say undead, shouldn’t I?”

“Oh. That.”

“Yes. That. Duh. I’m a real, suck-blood-no-matter-how-gross-it-is, vampire. You turned me into this
thing
and that’s all you have to say about it?”

“I don’t know what you want to hear.”

“How about ‘I’m sorry’?”

“But... I’m not sorry.”

“What?”

Sydney’s voice elevated slightly and with that, her teeth reacted. Her eyes widened at a sensation not unlike a dental hygienist probing about with a tool in her mouth.

“I didn’t mean to... well. Uh. I can’t even say that. I did mean to. Just not quite at that time. Is that what you want to hear? Because I can’t say I’m sorry. How can I be? It was inevitable, actually.”

“Excuse me?”

“Didn’t you listen, earlier? You’re my mate, Sydney. Mine. Just as I am yours. We’re destined for each other. Our worlds entwined. Fused. Forevermore. And by the sweetest, ficklest, most generous turn of fate, we actually found each other. It isn’t something we can fight. It isn’t negotiable. It isn’t deniable.”

“You’re talking the mating thing? Again?”

“Again? No. Always. I will never cease speaking of it and it will never change. Don’t you see? We’re
mates
. You and me. For all eternity.”

“See? There you go. And isn’t there supposed to be a few dates, some fantastic sex, and then, maybe - if we’re real compatible - maybe a proposal tossed out? And maybe accepted? What happened to all that?”

“You let me speak, but either I’ve lost my ability to articulate or you’ve already closed your ears. You’re not listening.”

“Oh. I listen. I’m just not that gullible anymore. Maybe it’s because I’m older than you. More mature.”

“We’re mates, Sydney Ross LLC. It’s a fact. Face it.”

“And, there you go again. Just like a broken record.”

His answer was in an even deeper voice, gaining a range of bass tones that reverberated through the cabin and then filtered through her spine.

“Some vampires never find their mate, Sydney. They’re doomed to an eternity of loneliness. Our oldest associate has wandered the earth for thousands of years, alone... bereft. It’s rumored he once spoke of it. Of his uncertainty. And that just maybe his mate had already had a lifespan here. And he’d missed her.”