Winter's Touch (Immortal Touch Series) (20 page)

She dreaded the evening to come, knowing the most she could hope for was that he
would show more mercy this time. That he wouldn’t attack her with the savagery of a starving wolf. She couldn’t take another assault like the last one. And without Lainie here to minister to her, recovery would be arduous.

It was around five o’clock when the idea formed in her head.
A silly and completely pointless one no doubt, but she was feelingly childishly obstinate. He enjoyed his wine, did he not?
Fine.
She’d damn well make sure he had alcohol with his repast tonight by getting herself good and crocked. At the very least, maybe she’d pass out before he found her. Then she wouldn’t feel a thing.

And yes
, it was entirely possible that raising her blood alcohol level wouldn’t particularly matter to him. Chances were, it wouldn’t. But if nothing else it would annoy him, and after his revelation yesterday she could think of nothing more pleasurable than irritating that smug Brit.

Creeping her way down into the cold cellar, she inspected the wine rack in search of one with a high percentage of alcohol. It was beginning to look as though she’d have to
consume an awful lot of wine when she came across an unopened bottle of vodka. Eureka! With an alcohol content of forty percent, she had a winner. It wouldn’t take long to accomplish her mission with this.

F
ifteen minutes later she was settled in her room with the vodka, a full container of chilled cranberry juice and a glass. And a willful smile crept over her face.

“Let’s party, vampire man.”

~*~*~

“What the hell
...?”

Hearing the crash that originated from Eva’s room, Julian had
gone to investigate. Now he stood in her doorway, dumbfounded by the sight of her hanging half on and half off the bed, window smashed to smithereens while snow blew in through the jagged hole.

“What in the name of Lucifer’s arse is going on in here?”

She raised one hand, waving it unsteadily about with her eyes glued to it as if it were the most amazing thing she’d ever seen. “I frowed the bottle. Ofer there. It
flewwww
...iss flying vojka.” She began to giggle. “Thass funny.”

“Have you gone mad?” He walked over to the window, surveying the damage
with supreme indignation.

“Iss s
hnowing outside!”

“I can
see
that! Why the hell did you break the window?”

“C
uz it wass funny. Hey, you know wass funny? Those guys, um...whass their name, they did all that stuff, y’know? We sould shee ‘em. Those guys are
sooooo
funny. And...when they do stuff.”

“I don’t have the foggiest idea what you’re talking about.”

“Um...me neither. I forgot. So whaddya shay we go find Profesher Buttfarter’s house an’...an’ frow stuff. Cuz he’s stupid.” She rolled over and landed inelegantly on the floor with a
whump
, still giggling. “Oops. I fell down.”

Professor
who?
“Little idiot. Do you realize it’s ten degrees outside?”

“
Ten, twenty, sixxy, forty, eleveny.” She was trying unsuccessfully to stand up. “What comes affer eleveny? Sixxy?”

“How much did you have to drink?”

“Sixxy. Hey! Hey! You know what we sould do? We sould go make shnowman. You wanna?”

He helped her up from the floor. “I most certainly do not. And considering you can’t even walk, I hardly think you’re up to the task either.” Scooping her into his arms, he carried her down the hallway into his own room, thinking to himself that he should just let the foolish girl freeze to death. What on earth did she think to accomplish by
drinking herself into a stupor?

“Hey. Where we goin’? We goin’ shumwhere?”

“
We
are not going anywhere.
You
are going to bed.”

“I don’t wanna go bed. Wanna go see the shnow. Did
ja know it’s shnowing?”

“You can see the snow tomorrow, hangover permitting. It’s not going anywhere.” He dropped her
brusquely onto his bed and hurried downstairs for a glass of filtered water. By the time he returned, she was somewhere in the middle of the second verse of
Frosty the Snowman
. Or something that resembled it. Vaguely.

“Drink some water for me, Eva.” He held the glass for her so she wouldn’t drench herself or the covers. “And do keep in mind that if you throw up on my bed, I will personally strangle you.”

She drank, then grinned at him. “You’re funny.”

“That was
not a joke. I
will
strangle you.” He brushed a wayward strand of hair away from her mouth, and was struck by an objectionable twinge of tenderness for the girl who seemed to have been blessed with the common sense of a doorknob. Pulling the comforter and top sheet out from under her, he ordered, “Under the covers,
now.
Your skin is like ice.”

“
Can we go outside now?” Her voice sounded sleepy as she clumsily tried to shove her pajama-clad legs underneath the covers. He pulled the comforter up to her neck, resisting the overpowering urge to bite her. She smelled so good, and he was growing hungry.

“
Not now. Lie back and close your eyes. I’ll leave the bathroom light on for you, just in case.”

“Case what?”

“You’ll find out soon enough, I’ll wager.”

“I love you,” she said, just before passing out.

~*~*~

It was nearly one o’clock
in the afternoon when Eva woke alone after spending a good portion of the night in abject misery on a cold marble floor, alternating between retching and praying fervently for sweet merciful death.

It had been
almost daylight by the time she was able to leave the bathroom and fall into a deep sleep in the warm bed. She wasn’t completely sure whether Julian had been beside her then or not. The night was filled with so many fragmented images, amalgamations of hallucination and reality, and she couldn’t discern which events had actually taken place and which were nothing more than intoxicated dreams.

A loud sound that resembled rushing water
perplexed her, and slowly she pulled herself up to look around the room. The noise was coming from outside. It was, she realized, the sound of blizzard winds howling. Abandoning the warmth of the cozy bed, she padded over to the window to have a peek. Through the thick swirling whiteness she could just barely make out the skeletal outlines of tree branches whipping wildly in the wind. The house itself remained nothing more than a tiny speck swallowed up by the vastness of the powerful storm. They truly were alone now.

Shivering, she migrated to her own room with the intention of having a hot bath,
and stopped to reflect on the shattered window with a sense of disorientation. A clear plastic drop cloth had been tacked over the hole to keep out the snow, but it did little to discourage the bitter cold. She vaguely recalled throwing something at the window the night before, though she couldn’t for the life of her remember what or why.

Julian was probably pissed.

After a long soak in a hot tub, she reluctantly dragged herself downstairs and found him seated at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee. He looked up from the magazine he was reading, expression glacial.

Oh,
hell.

“I see you survived the night.”

“Barely.” She grabbed a bottle of Evian from the fridge, having no desire to
ever
see another glass of cranberry juice again. With a chagrined smile she asked, “Do you happen to have anything for a headache?”

“I do not. You damn well deserve every ounce of wretchedness
that afflicts you. Addlebrained little fool.”

“
Okay, fine, I’m sorry!” She plopped down into a chair, holding her throbbing head in her hands. “You have no
idea
how sorry. Losing blood doesn’t even begin to compare to last night. God, I thought I was dying.”

“Is
that
what you were up to? Thinking to avoid the inevitable?”

She rubbed her temples
lightly. “I guess.” Let him get mad. He couldn’t do any worse to her than she’d already experienced, that was for sure. She met his eyes warily and their blackness bored into her like lead bullets.

But his voice remained polished and composed as he spoke.
“Let me ask you something. When you were a child, did you ever capture a butterfly in a jar?”

“I
...yes, I suppose I did. Once or twice.”

“And what did it do?”

“I don’t know. Just kind of fluttered around.”

“
That’s right. It was trying desperately to escape. You see, even though you and I know it’s a futile gesture, the creature will continually beat its wings against the glass, harming itself, eventually killing itself for want of freedom. But you didn’t let it die, did you? I’m guessing you released it long before that happened. Because you only wanted to observe it for a while, not keep it for yourself. Am I right?”

How well he knew her.
“Yes.”

“You,
Evangeline, are my captive butterfly, a rare and coveted species. But unlike that sweet little child, I will never relinquish my prize, and this you must accept. Because if you continue to beat your wings against the glass, you will only damage yourself.”

He stood, then
reached over to gently lift her chin with his fingers. “You belong to me and the sooner you accept that, the better off you’ll be. Now have something to eat, nurse your headache, break every window in the house if you think you must. And when you’ve sufficiently recovered from last night’s nonsense, come and see me. I’m hungry, and I won’t wait forever.”

~
*~*~

It was nearly
ten o’clock before Eva worked up the courage to venture into his room. There was no need to knock. She knew he was waiting for her.

Julian
was just emerging from the bathroom, clad in only -
merciful heavens
- a pair of black silk boxers and a fluffy towel draped across his shoulders. He was using one end to casually rub his flaxen hair dry.

“Ah, there you are. How’s the hangover?”

The
what?
She tried to pull her eyes away from the sight of his nearly naked body, forcing herself to concentrate on whatever it was he was saying.

Um
...what
was
he saying?

“Huh?”

“I asked if you were feeling better.” He tossed the towel carelessly onto an Italian Baroque chair, the muscles moving under his smooth skin like those of a sleek jaguar.

“Oh. Yes
...I am.” Or she
had
been, until now. Now, her heart was threatening to burst through her chest. Never in her life had she seen anything so incredibly enticing. Suddenly very self-aware, she closed the charmeuse robe over her nightgown and tied it securely.

“Very good. Shall we get started?”
He took her arm as if he were escorting her to a dance, and led her to the bed while she trembled from a plethora of emotions ranging from fear to excitement to dread. Reclining against the down pillows, she closed her eyes, pulse racing wildly as he leaned into her and she braced herself for the unavoidable pain. Waiting. Waiting.

Waiting.

It never came.

“I suppose you’ve been punished enough,” he murmured softly against her cheek.

She opened her eyes, confused.

He was
casually reaching across her for the TV remote on the nightstand. “I’m not tired. Why don’t we see what’s on?”

What game was he playing now? Baffled, she stared at him as he
surfed through the channels, for all the world resembling a husband relaxing in bed with his wife at the end of a normal, uneventful day. It was a treacherous illusion. Sometimes she wondered if his actions were a subtle experiment to see just how long it would take for her mind to lose all touch with reality. It did seem that his favorite pastime was endeavoring to turn her into a mental case.

He caught her expression. “What?”

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to find a decent movie.
The wind has died down, otherwise the satellite wouldn’t be working.”

“Julian
...”

“Yes?” The innocence in his voice was deliberate.

“Stop screwing around. Can we just get this over with, please?”

“Not necessary. I fed last night.
” He tugged playfully at a lock of her hair. “You didn’t even realize I left, did you? I suggest in the future you leave the hard drinking to those who can hold their liquor.”

Her eyes widened
at the totally unexpected revelation. “You went out last night?”