Sex and the Single Vampire do-2 Page 15

He smoothed a strand of my hair back from where it was caught on my lip. "Guarda White will be watching you very closely. If she found out that you were not my fiancée—and I can assure you that she will be having both of us followed in an attempt to find out more about us—you would be in a very dangerous situation. I cannot allow you to put yourself in danger for me."

  I ground my teeth both at that horrible word allow and his high-handed action. "I can understand and even agree with what you say about Guarda. I wouldn't put it past her to send some detectives digging into our pasts. But I do object, most strenuously and strongly, to your making decisions without my knowledge and consent. I will not tolerate it, Christian; I simply will not tolerate it!"

  He lay silent for a long minute, the struggle within him visible in his beautiful eyes as they darkened. "I did not see my actions in quite that light. It is difficult for me to remember that you do not wish for my protection without asking for it. For that I apologize. I should have discussed it with you first."

  I blinked at him, stunned that he was willing to admit he was wrong. "Really? You admit you were wrong?"

  He tugged me down until my lips rested upon his. "Yes, I do."

  "Have you ever had to apologize to anyone before?"

  His lips feathered across mine. "Never."

  A now familiar warmth started deep within me as his hands got into the action. "It didn't hurt too much, did it?"

  "Terribly. I need comforting."

  "Men. Such babies," I said as I pushed him onto his back and kissed the objection right out of his mind. "You really brought my stuff here? Esme's bobble, too?"

  Christian groaned and slapped a hand over my mouth, but too late, as I saw to my horror.

  "Oh, my gracious heavens! You're both naked! In bed! Together! I shouldn't be seeing this, should I? Don't look, Mr. Woogums; it isn't at all fit for you to see."

  I stared in horror over Christian's biceps at Esme as she stood in bewildered delight next to Christian, her hand held over the cat's eyes. Dark as it was, I could see her examining Christian from head to toes.

  "Oh, my dear, how very fortunate you are. How very fortunate indeed!"

  The dream came on me just as the dawn lightened the gray, sodden skies over London. Once again I was in a house, my footsteps echoing before me as I walked down long, empty corridors, aware that I wasn't alone. This time I knew it was Christian who needed my help.

  I stepped through an archway to a solid steel door, the lock enhanced by a heavy bolt. I ignored the lock and pushed open the door, entering the room to find myself with a group of people, staring at the figure of a man lying still and silent on a hard metal table. It was Christian lying on the table, his eyes empty and soulless as Eduardo drained the blood from his body.

  "She will not come for you," said a small, dark-haired man standing at Christian's feet. "She will not save you, not now, not ever. She is lost to you. If I cannot have her, I will have you."

  "You must choose," Eduardo said to me. I shook my head, refusing to make the decision.

  Christian turned his head until his eyes met mine. A sob of protest caught in my throat as I tried to push forward, tried to stop Eduardo, tried to refute the second man. I would come for him; I would save him.

  "You will trust me," Christian ordered, his eyes full of sorrow and pain; then he held his arm out to the second man, who bent over his wrist, baring fangs that sank cruel and deep into Christian's flesh.

  My scream echoed throughout Christian's high-ceilinged bedroom, not in the least bit muffled by the curtains that he had drawn around the bed. I lay frozen in the bed, disoriented by it, by the room, and the strangeness of a warm body lying spooned protectively behind me.

  Christian's hand slid up from my hip to tighten around my belly. "Allegra? Were you dreaming?"

  My heart was beating wildly, the foul taste of the nightmare still filling my mouth. Suddenly feeling as if I were suffocating, I pushed at his arm until he released me, then sat up on the edge of the bed and pushed the curtain aside, breathing deeply as I hunched over, trying to catch my breath and tell myself that not every dream I'd had turned out to come true.

  "Allegra?"

  Only ninety or so percent actually came to pass the way I'd dreamed them.

  "What is wrong?"

  "I'm okay," I mumbled, not wanting him to see me like this. I had suffered nightmares and occasionally night terrors ever since I'd started training as a Summoner. It was the main reason that I didn't sleep nights—the nightmares were less likely to come if I slept after the sun was up.

  "You are not. You are shaking like a leaf in a windstorm, and I can hear your heart beating madly from here." His warm hand touched my back. "It was a dream?"

  I nodded, hugging my knees to my chest.

  "I take it that it was not a dream in which you relived our recent agreeable activities?"

  I shook my head.

  The sheets rustled as he scooted over until he was sitting next to me. He slid his arm around me, but I pushed away from him, sliding a few feet down the bed. "No, please, don't touch me."

  His pain lanced through my mind at the words. Even sickened as I was by the nightmare, I felt it necessary to reassure him, but I couldn't face those knowing eyes. I turned my head until I saw his knees, and addressed them. "It's not you; it's me. I always feel… tainted after one of these dreams. I don't want you to touch me until the feeling is gone."

  "Do you have such dreams frequently?"

  I didn't want to talk about the dream. I didn't want to think about it; I wanted to wipe from my memory the sight of Christian's face as he gave up his life to save me. I wanted to forget him, forget the dream, just go back to being who and what I was before I ever came to this horrible country.

  Liar, I scolded myself.

  I dropped my chin to my knees and squeezed my eyes shut tight, not wanting Christian to see me cry. He'd want to comfort me and if he comforted me I wasn't sure I would ever find my way back to my solitary life without him.

  Why do you want to live alone when you can have Christian? my mind asked me.

  I told it to get stuffed.

  The dream was a warning. My dreams often are; they show me what will happen if I don't take steps to direct fate to a more pleasant path. I had no idea who the second Dark One was, nor why Christian ordered me to trust him when he was clearly sacrificing himself for me… A sob caught in my throat as the memory of Christian offering his wrist replayed itself in my head. I scrubbed at my eyes and rocked silently as inside me a battle raged. The need to be with him, to take his darkness and fill him with something else warred with the knowledge that in order to save him, I would have to sacrifice everything I held dear.

  Without saying a word, Christian rose from the bed and went into the en suite bathroom. I'd been in there earlier and goggled at the marble bathtub, the gold fixtures, the hand textured walls. It was a bathroom that could inspire anyone, but it was rather odd that Christian should have the urge to go in there right at the exact moment I was having a meltdown. I sniffled into my knees.

  "Come, I have drawn you a bath," he said a few minutes later. I peeked up at him through damp strands of hair. "I thought you might enjoy it."

  A bath suddenly sounded heavenly, only… I hugged my knees even tighter.

  He turned around and walked to a huge wardrobe, pulling out a Chinese red silk robe. I accepted it, sliding it on quickly as I headed for the bathroom. Christian might have a body that made him think nothing of parading around nude—and heaven only knew I certainly enjoyed his parade—but I did not care to be seen marching about in my birthday suit.

  I paused at the door and looked back at where he stood. "Thank you."

  He accepted my thanks with a slight nod.

  It took me a long time to scrub the aftereffects of the nightmare off my skin, but when I emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of jasmine-scented steam, I had come to several decisions. The first was that I would ignore the fact that Christian had us
ed a capital B—I could tell by the inflection he used that it was a capital—when calling me his Beloved. I was sure that slip of the tongue was due more to the fact that we seemed to be very compatible when it came to a physical relationship than to any notion that I might be the sole person who could salvage his soul. We were good together, I argued to myself, but not that good.

  My second decision was that I was going to have to ignore Christian's previous request that I not see Guarda alone. He'd told me earlier that he didn't think it was safe for me to meet with her by myself, and bemused as I was by the fact that I was at that moment draped over his chest, I hadn't objected to his request that I wait until he'd risen for the night before keeping my appointment with her. That was predream, however. Postdream, I knew what would happen should Guarda and Eduardo ever find out just who Christian was—and I would move heaven and earth to see to it that did not happen.

  I stood by the side of Christian's bed, watching him as he slept, and decided that my third decision—that I would accept his invitation to stay with him—was sound. There was really no reason to make myself miserable by cutting off all contact with him. Besides, I told myself as I slipped out of the silk bathrobe and into the bed, it was much easier to keep tabs on him if I were staying here.

  He murmured sleepily as I snuggled up against his back. Are you better now, Beloved?

  I ignored the Beloved and slid my hand over his hip and up his chest, pressing my cheek against the warm flesh of his back. He felt solid, strong, invincible, but I knew that could change in an instant. "Much better, thank you for understanding."

  Will you tell me of this dream that left you so devastated?

  "No."

  He turned until I was pressed against his chest, my head tucked under his chin. I sighed and allowed his heat to sink into me as he tossed a heavy thigh over my legs. I did not ask to pry, malý váleèník. I want only to help you.

  "I know you do." I yawned, snuggling a bit closer so I could melt against him. "But it's okay now. I just want to go to sleep."

  His breath was slow and soft on my hair as we both drifted off into sleep. Just before I let sleep claim me, I felt the faintest echo in my head.

  You have much to learn of trust, Beloved.

  "All right, we have a couple of ground rules that I want to go over before I leave. Jem, please stop picking your ear and pay attention. I'm sure there's nothing in there you haven't seen before. Esme, can you ask Alis if she'd leave off waving her hands through Christian's vase long enough to listen? Thank you. Now, since I have told the couple who takes care of Christian's house that I was leaving some very valuable equipment in here that mustn't be disturbed, they have promised not to come in. As long as you stay in this room, everything will be fine."

  I ignored the faint nudging at my mind.

  "There's a bloke there wot wants ye," Jem said, glowering at me. I was starting to get used to his perpetual sulk, figuring it was just part and parcel of a teenage male, even ghostly teenage males. I nodded at him, then took a closer look at his face.

  "Whatever have you done to your eyebrow? It can't be… You didn't… Is it pierced? Why did you do that? More important, how did you do that?"

  He slouched aggressively at me.

  "And what happened to your powdered wig? Didn't you have a powdered wig? I know you had a powdered wig!"

  He sneered.

  Someone behind me nudged my mind again.

  "Esme, is it possible for you to change your appearance if you desire?"

  She sat with ladylike elegance in the leather chair behind Christian's desk. "Why, yes, dear, of course we can. Anytime."

  "But… but…" I looked from her ratty slippers to her nightgown and bathrobe. "But if you can change your clothes and such…"

  She smiled. "There will come a time in your life when you learn to value comfort over fashion. Although I hope for Christian's sake that time doesn't come anytime soon. You're comfortable enough now."

  I cleared my throat and looked away, feeling a bit of a blush burn my cheeks. We'd had a terrible time getting Esme from Christian's room once she decided that it was her matchmaking efforts that had made the difference in our relationship. Christian had to decline her offer of lovemaking advice three times before we finally convinced her to go haunt his study, the room I now stood in.

  The ghost behind me nudged me again. I gritted my teeth and ignored it.

  "Okay, so the rule is that you must stay here in this room, and no investigating anywhere else in the house. Christian will be up once it's dark, and I'll be gone until then, so you're just going to have to amuse yourselves as best you can until then. Need I remind you—Alis, would you please stop trying to knock over Christian's vase! I doubt if you can summon the psychic energy necessary to have a physical impact on it, and all that arm waving is a bit distracting. Where was I?"

  Behind me, a book flew off the bookshelf and hit the desk. Esme looked at it with interest.

  "Um… oh, yes. Need I remind you that if anyone misbehaves—"

  A second book flew off the shelf.

  "—the punishment will be the keepers. Since I've heard from you all that you don't like being bound to a bobble and stuffed in my pocket, I trust you'll all behave so I won't have to take that action."

  A red rose materialized out of the air and fell to my feet.

  "Oh, my, how romantic!" Esme said as the cat limped over to sniff it.

  "Wot're we supposed t'do then, while yer off? Just sit 'ere an' watch fold loony bat at them big fancy bits?"

  I stepped over the rose and picked up the remote control to the television hidden in an oak armoire. "I'll turn the TV on, but low. You can watch it, or stare out the window, or pick your toes for all I care, just as long as you do it in this room."

  Jem dropped his habitual sullenness long enough to stare in openmouthed surprise at the TV. "Wot's it?"

  "It's a television. Oh, I don't have time to explain it to you. Esme, you've seen one, yes?"

  "Heavens, yes. The maid who used to do my room turned it on every day. Mr. Woogums and I became quite the devotees of Coronation Street."

  Two more roses materialized and fluttered down at my feet, accompanied by a big push at my mind. "Good, you can explain what a TV is to Jem. Alis, what is your problem?"

  "She was a housekeeper, dear."

  "So?"

  "For a man who owned a sizable china collection. He insisted that she be the only one who attend to his things, since they were so valuable. It's only natural that she should hate the sight of objets d'art."

  "Hmmm." I watched her for a moment. "You don't think she could focus enough to actually do any damage?" Ghosts, when focused, can sometimes rally enough psychic energy to interact in our world in a physical manner, as demonstrated by the roses that were appearing with regularity at my feet. I knew Christian's vase and a nearby delicate bust of a Greek goddess that had also attracted Alis's attention must be valuable, and hated to think of her inadvertently destroying them.

  Esme tore her eyes from the TV and looked thoughtful. "I doubt it, although the gentleman who's trying to get your attention certainly could."

  At her words, the jade green-and-blue vase lifted up three inches off its plinth and tilted at a rakish angle.

  "Put that down!" I snarled, reaching in my pocket for my chalk and ash. "Carefully, or I won't Summon you!"

  The vase settled down with a soft murmur of antique china on highly polished wood.

  I drew a circle, hurried through the wards, spoke the words, and pushed away the annoyance of having to Summon a pesky, pushy ghost when I needed to be leaving. I had a difficult enough time dragging myself from Christian's arms after only a couple of hours of sleep; I didn't want to be here when he awoke and noticed my absence.

  As I sneezed and got to my feet the air shimmered and collected itself, darkening into the figure of a swarthy man with dark, curly hair, a short, pointed beard, glittering blue eyes, an Elizabethan ruff, a scarlet-and-gold do
ublet, and what surely must have been a greatly exaggerated codpiece. I grounded the spirit and gathered up my coat.

  "Mi amor! My beautiful one! You 'ave at last succumbed to my charms and you draw me forth!" His voice was a pleasant tenor with a heavy Spanish accent. I pegged him for one of the Spanish courtiers who hung around Elizabeth's court before the armada took a drubbing.

  "What's your name?" I asked as I shoved my arms into my coat.

  He kissed his hand to me. "I am Antonio de Gutierrez, Count de Seville and your most 'umble servant."

  He made a deep, flourish-laden bow.

  "You have ten seconds to explain why you insisted I Summon you."

  "Mi corazón," he said, his hand over his heart, his eyes filled with amorous longing. "You 'ave only to ask, and I will attend. I saw you in the arms of that peon, that Dark One, and I knew you were meant for me. You are a Summoner! You have the same fire in your 'eart as I 'ave in mine. Who else could 'ave brought me forth from the dark and dismal existence I 'ave suffered these many centuries?"

  I shook a small, squat candle at him. "Look here, no one—I repeat, no one—is allowed to watch when Christian and I… er… when we're alone together. Everyone got that?"

  Esme nodded. Jem floated in a cross-legged position about six inches away from the TV. Alis started screaming at a small ceramic cat that sat in one of the bookcases. Mr. Woogums licked his private parts.

  "Good. Now, as for you…" I turned back to Antonio. He flung himself toward the door and struck a seductive pose before it. "I don't have the time to stay and hear your story, or figure out what it is you need to move on, so this is going to have to be quick. Either you agree to stay right here, in this room, without stepping spectral foot from it, or I'll bind you to this candle."

  He stared at the candle. It had herbs mixed into the wax, and had a pleasing scent reminiscent of frankincense. "You could not find something a bit more masculine? A bit more dashing?"

  "No. It's either the candle or stay in this room without leaving. The choice is yours."

  He made a pretty pout, which quickly turned into a full-frontal leer. "I will agree to your demands, my fiery one, but it is only because I live to please you."