Deep Kiss of Winter Page 8
Kristoff relaxed back in his chair, his demeanor pleased. He asked those at the table, “Do you think I should forgive Wroth his transgression? For which one of us could have resisted the temptation when she was our Bride and her exquisite blood called?” The king stared at the shredded garment marked by a Valkyrie’s blood.
Murdoch masked his shock. For centuries, this had been law. Forbearing from drinking the flesh was how they’d earned their name. Was this a license to drink from one’s Bride?
“Continue as you were,” Kristoff told Nikolai. “But if your eyes turn red, know that we will destroy you.”
Nikolai is free to drink his Bride, to take her blood at his leisure. Murdoch envied him. Again.
Nikolai was stunned as well, but recovered enough to say, “I was coming to Mount Oblak tonight to tell you that Ivo was spotted in New Orleans.”
Ivo the Cruel was a leader in the Horde, and their armies had battled in the past. In fact, Mount Oblak had once been his holding.
“He’s looking for someone,” Nikolai said. “I suspect it could be Myst.”
That made sense. She’d been Ivo’s prisoner, had already been in his dungeon when the Forbearers had taken the castle.
Nikolai ran a hand over his face, his concern evident. “I need to go—”
“We’ll take care of it,” Murdoch interrupted sharply. “For God’s sake, you stay here and . . . enjoy . . . everything.” Everything I can’t.
Kristoff returned his attention to Nikolai, eyeing him shrewdly. “Find out as much as you can from her. And you will tell us if the memories follow the blood.”
After a short nod, Nikolai traced from the room.
His brother hadn’t just been spared, he’d as much as had a slap on the back from Kristoff. The king was no doubt thinking of an alliance with the Valkyrie.
And I have a Valkyrie Bride. But Murdoch could never drink her anyway, was a danger to her.
If Nikolai had succumbed, knowing he was breaking the laws of their order, then Murdoch didn’t stand a chance of controlling himself with Daniela. And she would find no pleasure in it, had told him she could die from it.
Kristoff stood. “Now, which of you will volunteer to accompany Murdoch to New Orleans where this coven full of Valkyrie is located?”
They all shot to their feet.
One asked, “Does this mean we can drink from our Brides? Without repercussions?”
“Only if they’re immortal and can’t be killed from blood loss. I believe that’s why Nikolai’s eyes are still clear,” Kristoff said absently, his gaze focused on Murdoch. “A word,” Kristoff told him, ushering him aside. “You are charged with protecting Myst the Coveted. This match between her and your brother is critical. Scour the city for Ivo until the sun drives you back.”
In the past, Murdoch had searched those city streets for his brother’s sake. Now he would do the same for Myst, a female he’d hated for years. “And when I find him?”
“Take him out.”
“Gladly.”
“Is there anything you’d like to tell me, Murdoch?”
“My liege?”
“Your heart beats,” Kristoff observed. “Don’t worry, the others won’t notice. Turned humans rarely think to listen for it. When did this happen?”
“Last night.”
“A mere five years after your brother. While I’ve waited millennia.” Did Kristoff envy them?
Doubtless. The natural-born vampires had the same pressing drive to find their mates. They were born fully alive, growing much like mortals, until they neared the age when they froze into their immortality. Then with each day, their hearts would beat less, their breaths—and sexual need—gradually diminishing to nothing until they could become blooded.
Just like the Forbearers, the natural-born vampires knew exactly what they were missing. . . .
“Is your Bride by any chance a Valkyrie?”
When Murdoch hesitated, Kristoff’s eyes flooded black with anger. “Need I remind you that I’m your king? And I’ve just shown mercy to your brother.”
“She is a Valkyrie.”
“Have you been able to learn anything about the Lore from her?”
“I’ll be able to find out more in the future,” he said, hedging for some reason.
“The future? She’s a Valkyrie—the odds are against her wanting anything to do with you.”
Murdoch’s shoulders straightened. “She told me she wanted to see me again.” Before he’d threatened to bite her. But she’d still left her number. “She even gave me her contact information.” He pulled the note from his pocket, displaying it.
Kristoff raised a brow at the X s and O s, the puffy hearts. “Call her,” he challenged.
Murdoch took his sat-phone from his jacket, then dialed the number. It rang several times.
“Hmm. Not waiting by the phone for your call?”
Murdoch heard a voice-answering service clicking on. Kristoff did as well and said, “Probably in the shower, then?”
“Of course.”
But a woman’s voice said, “If you’ve reached this message and you weren’t trying to contact Regin the Radiant”—
Regin?
—“then I know three things about you. One of my half sisters just tooled your ass and never wants to see you again. B. You’re pop-culturally illiterate not to know that this number is a song. And three, you’ll never tell another male about this humiliating prank, so the number trick can be continued indefinitely. If, however, you called for moi, then say something to amuse me after the beep.”
Murdoch’s anger was boiling. Just as he was about to unleash his wrath in a message, a computerized voice said, “Mailbox is full.”
That little witch . . .
“I understand you had a reputation for being popular with women,” Kristoff said as he collected Nikolai’s bloody shirt from the table. “You’d better recognize that a Valkyrie is not exactly your typical woman.”
FOURTEEN
“FORBEARER SCUM.”
“Ignorance is bliss, leech.”
“Go sun yourself.”
Being met with insults was the only way Murdoch and his men could determine that they’d even approached Lore beings in their search of the Quarter.
Hours ago, Murdoch had mapped out the rest of the city for the other Forbearers, and then they’d split up, each elder with two men under him. Murdoch had taken his old friend Rurik, an Estonian who’d served under him in the war, and they’d been stuck with Lukyan, the hotheaded Russian. Kristoff could insist that the former political alliances of his soldiers had been nullified by those of the Lore, but the wily king always put a Russian with Estonians, and vice versa.
Over the course of the night, Murdoch had grown better able to recognize the Lore beings—they seemed more adroit, more suspicious, and often more drunken than the humans—but he still didn’t know what they were.
And not one of them would offer information. The females hadn’t given him enough time to charm them. The males had looked ready to fight on sight.
The closest he’d gotten was with a scantily clad female who’d painted her skin with leaf designs. She’d at least given him a few moments to state his introduction and questions, not that she’d listened. She’d merely been ogling him while nodding dimly and murmuring, “Uh-huh, baby boy, you keep talking, Trixie’s lis’ning.”
She’d kept this up until another female, dressed and painted like her, came charging between them to harangue the first one. “He’s a vampire. You really are a ho-hum whoreslut of a nymph, aren’t you?”
“No, you are!”
Then they’d lunged at each other, deep-kissing as they went tumbling to the ground.
All in all, the Forbearers had learned nothing about Ivo’s whereabouts.
Now, as midnight neared, Rurik, Lukyan, and Murdoch stood on a balcony overlooking the crowd. The other two were arguing over various topics, while Murdoch was silent in thought, mired in unease over Daniela.
This eve, he’d seen pretty women, but he had no interest in them. Though he knew so little about Daniela, the blooding made him think of her constantly.
It forced him to recall her vulnerability when she’d said she wanted to see him again. It made him remember with a disturbing tenderness the way she’d lifted her arms to him so trustingly.
As a mortal, he’d had a happy-go-lucky personality. Women had trusted him with their pleasure but little else. Yet Daniela had believed in him to remove the arrows in time to save her life.
Tomorrow night, he could go to Blachmount and ask Myst how to contact her sister. But then, Myst might refuse to divulge that information. If all else failed, he supposed he could try to find the Valkyrie coven, despite Daniela’s warning that they’d kill him on sight.
Another source of his unease? He couldn’t stop mulling over how the Wroth brothers had gone down in Lore history for their deeds, or misdeeds. After the continuous battles and hardships they’d all suffered, Nikolai had been remembered as the self-sacrificing general, and Murdoch had been classed as the manwhore?
He also suspected that this bothered him solely because that was how Daniela saw him—
“What say you, Murdoch?” Rurik asked.
“What? I didn’t hear you.”
“We were speaking of Brides and Valkyries.”
Murdoch almost coughed. “Were you, then?”
Rurik’s scarred face creased into a frown. He can tell something is going on with me—has known me for centuries. Rurik had been one of five dying war compatriots who’d accepted that fateful deal Nikolai had brokered with Kristoff.
But cunning Kristoff knew that these men were loyal to Nikolai and Murdoch, and always would be. Demonstrating his shrewdness yet again, Kristoff had dispatched the other four—Kalev, Demyan, Markov, and Aleksander—in separate directions on the continent to search for the Daci, a rumored hidden enclave of natural-born vampires.
Rurik alone remained, and only because of his weakness: an uncontrollable temper when in conflict. Not the best trait for a potential ambassador.
“I heard at Mount Oblak that Nikolai’s Bride was fine beyond words,” Lukyan said. He was a bold and skilled fighter—as a Don Cossack, Lukyan had been bred for war—but Murdoch didn’t trust him. There was something off about him, even beyond the fact that he’d died on the other side of the same battlefield Murdoch had perished on. “You saw her. Is she that beautiful, then?”
“She is.” But not more so than Daniela.
“I haven’t really looked at a woman in so long.” Rurik’s gaze fell to the street below. In his human life, he’d been a simple farmer, a gentle giant, until he’d gone into battle; then he would go berserk. He didn’t wield a sword—he carried a war hammer.
Rurik’s father had often liked to say that the men in their family were descended from berserkers. After Rurik had been turned into a vampire and learned this new world existed, he’d had to wonder, literally descended from berserkers?
“Wouldn’t matter if you’d looked at women, you’d only see half of them,” Lukyan said with a smirk.
Rurik had the war wounds to show for his rages. He walked with a marked limp and was missing an eye under his rakish patch. Ignoring the Cossack’s comment, he said, “Have females been showing this much skin the whole time?”
Murdoch understood his comrade’s puzzlement. He himself had been disinterested in women to the point of oblivion. Until the Valkyrie.
“Christ, look at that one,” Rurik said in an awed tone. Murdoch remembered that even before he’d lost his eye, Rurik had been unlucky with women. He wondered if Rurik remembered that.
With a leer, Lukyan said, “Maybe she’s the one who’ll tempt me back to life.”
Pinpricks skittered along the back of Murdoch’s neck as he turned to the object of their attention.
Daniela. Just there.
The gnawing ache he’d been experiencing redoubled at the sight of her.
She was strolling the street below them, her white-blond hair swaying about her shoulders with each of her graceful steps. She wore a wrap of black silk around her hips, with a thin swath of the material climbing up over one breast, around her neck, and down over the other.
Could she have revealed more of her perfect flesh? Her back and arms were bare, as was a good bit of her chest and flat belly. The only jewelry adorning her were those exotic armbands. A satchel was slung over her shoulder.
Damn her, she was noticeably braless. And now he stood spellbound by how her high breasts bobbed as she nimbly wound through the crowd.
She seemed oblivious to the men she left ruined in her wake. They froze, gaping after her as if they loved her and would do anything for her.
When one male spoke to her and she smiled up at him, Murdoch’s fangs sharpened. The blooding at work again?
He shook himself, disconcerted by the violent drives racking him. Get control.
“She’s got to be an immortal.” Rurik’s voice was rough with appreciation, and Murdoch had to check an impulse to hurt his old friend. “Do you think her blood would be like that of Nikolai’s female?”
It would be, God help me, it would be. . . .
Lukyan said, “Bedding an immortal. Can you imagine how much experience that one has?”
Can’t rip out his throat. Murdoch wanted to bare his fangs at them, to growl that she was his. But it would only make Lukyan more determined to meet her.
What if Daniela blooded one of these vampires? Was that even possible? He had to get them away from her.
“Back to work,” he ordered them. “I’m starting at the head of the street. You two come from the other end. We’ll cover more ground.”
Once they’d reluctantly traced away, with lingering looks that almost got them killed, Murdoch descended to the street, then strode toward her.
What the hell was she doing out here alone? There could be more of the Icere out in this city. To risk her safety like this . . .
Without warning, a memory arose. “I don’t understand why men get so jealous over possessions, or over their women,” he’d once told his father.
His father had seemed deeply disappointed when he’d answered, “Son, that’s because you’ve never cared about anything enough to fight for it—or to fear losing it.”
FIFTEEN
“OH, NO, NO. THIS ISN’T HAPPENING,” Danii muttered as she jogged backward three steps, then whirled around in the opposite direction from the vampire intently approaching her.
It’s him! Earlier when she’d reached the Quarter, she’d asked around for Nïx, but instead had found out that Forbearers, led by a very big and handsome vamp, were going door to door, canvassing the streets for someone.
She’d joked to herself that maybe it was Murdoch out seeking her—laugh, laugh—to abjectly apologize. Had she been not far off the mark?
Or maybe he still wanted to throw her down and drink her.
“Wait, Daniela!”
When he traced in front of her, she halted with her palm raised to her lips. “Come any closer, and I’ll fill your lungs with ice.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“No? You were going to bite me earlier.”
He didn’t deny it, just gave a curt nod.
“So what’s different now?”
“I’ve replenished the blood I’ve lost. And I’m not surrounded by the scent of yours.”
“Sounds like you’re trying to make your loss of control my fault.”
“No, it was solely mine.”
“If not to bite me, then what do you want?”
He didn’t seem to know how to answer that. At length, he said, “Just to talk to you.”
“Is that why you and your henchmen were looking for me?” Predi
ctably, he’d need to see his Bride.
He ran his palm over the back of his neck. “We . . . weren’t . . .”
“You’re not looking for me.” How embarras sing. “ Then who?”
“We seek Ivo the Cruel.”
A Horde baddie. “Good luck with that,” she said between gritted teeth, turning to leave.
He followed her. “You know of him?”
“Of course I do. I’m not the one batting for Team Oblivious like you are.” She snapped her fingers and made a face of realization. “Oh, but wait, you’re no longer quite so clueless since you grilled me last night.” Again he didn’t deny it. “Did you tell all the Forbearers about what I said when I was delirious?”
“I’ve told no one,” he said, his handsome face darkening into a scowl. “What in the hell are you doing out here alone?”
“I’m looking for someone myself.”
“Who?” When she didn’t answer, he said, “You should be where it’s safe. There could be more Icere.”
Like he cared. She picked up her pace, refusing to spare him a glance—and failing. He seemed to be puzzling over what to say to her.
Finally he decided on: “You gave me the wrong number.”
He called? Her immediate high promptly nosedived. Of course, he’d only called for help with Ivo. “You have a lot of nerve bringing that up.”
“Why would you do that?”
“For—fun.” To get your hopes up and then have them dashed. Like mine continue to be.
She reminded herself that any “hopes” she might have had about him were firmly in the tense that was past. “And for the record, I wasn’t seeking to wed you, vampire”— I might have been right after we came together —”and I wasn’t even looking for an exclusive relationship.” Unless he’d been interested in one. With that, she stormed off.
He was right behind her. “Where are you going? Why won’t you give me two seconds of your time?”
I don’t think my battered ego can take it. Like her body, it hadn’t quite recovered.
“You’ve easily forgotten that I saved your life last night!”
She rounded on him. “Which wouldn’t have needed saving if you would’ve just shut up and moved on!”