His hand had grown back by the time I came out of the memory. I stared at it while I fought the urge to vomit or tear my skin off, whichever made me feel cleaner faster. Reliving peoples’ worst sins as though I were the one committing them frequently disgusted me. Sometimes, like this, it was worse. When my psychic abilities first developed, all the darkness I experienced drove me to a suicide attempt. Now, I focused until I channeled my anger and repugnance into more useful emotions.
“Rip his clothes off,” I stated.
Vlad’s guards rushed to obey. As I was his wife, they’d do whatever I told them unless Vlad countermanded it, and he knew why I needed bare skin for what I was going to do next.
When the Joker was wearing only his scorched mask, I ran my right hand over him, starting with his shoulders. I didn’t relive his worst sin again; thankfully, that only happened the first time I touched someone. However, essence trails flared beneath my fingertips, marking the invisible imprints from people who’d left emotional impressions on his skin. Many were from former victims of his violent tendencies, though some were affectionate, reminding me that even monsters had people who loved them. After I’d touched his shoulders, neck, arms, and legs, I dropped my hand. I’d felt dozens of essence trails on the Joker, but none of them had been familiar.
“I can’t find any trace of Szilagyi,” I finally said.
The Joker sagged with relief. I was about to tell Vlad to burn him to death anyway, after what I’d seen of his worst sin, but before I could say anything, the Joker exploded.
I leapt away from the burning remains of the vampire. When I glanced at Vlad, he was still smiling in a friendly way. If I’d have caught that before, I would’ve known to beat a hasty retreat. Vlad was never more dangerous than when he flashed his relaxed, genial grin. It aimed my way next and I stiffened. Yeah, he was still pissed. His grin plus the fact that he hadn’t waited to detonate the Joker before I was out of the splatter path told me that.
“You’ll get a lot of ‘no’ RSVPs to your next party,” I said, brushing the smoldering bits from my costume.
His smile only widened. “This isn’t the first party I’ve thrown where fewer guests left than arrived.”
No, it wasn’t. Most of what history had recorded about Vlad Basarab Dracul, a.k.a. Dracula or Vlad “Tepesh,” meaning “the Impaler” was wrong, but some things weren’t, such as the infamous dinner in the fourteen hundreds where he slaughtered his nobles sometime between the main course and dessert. Like the Joker, those guests had had it coming, too.
I didn’t know if the Khal-Drogo-themed vampire did, but I was about to find out. Three of Vlad’s guards hustled him in front of me, not letting go because he was struggling too hard. After what had happened to the last guy I touched, I couldn’t blame him. At least I didn’t need to order that he be stripped. His upper body was mostly bare anyway.
I ignored his protests as I laid my right hand on his meaty arm. As usual, colorless images from his worst sin overtook me, proving yet again that there was nothing wrong with that aspect of my abilities. Once I was mentally back in the present, I started searching him as I had the Joker, whose remains were still smoldering on the alcove’s marble floor.
This time, I recognized one of the essence trails marking the vampire’s body. I glanced at Vlad and gave him a single, grim nod. Either the costumed Khal Drogo translated that or Vlad’s new smile terrified him, because he began to sputter out a denial.
“I knew him long ago, before everyone believed that he’d been killed. I haven’t seen him in centuries, I promise!”
Lies. The essence thread I’d felt hadn’t been faint from age. It had nearly jumped out at me from its vibrancy. I stepped away, but not to avoid another blast zone. To keep from being jostled as Samir, the new head of Vlad’s guards, immediately began to drag the vampire away. Vlad wouldn’t kill the costumed Khal Drogo for conspiring with his most dangerous enemy. No, he’d suffer a much worse fate.
“Who else?”
Vlad’s glacier tone cut through the flash of sympathy I felt for the vampire being hauled away to the dungeon. Right, I had more work to do.
After I psychically felt up four more vampires to see if they were in league with Szilagyi (they weren’t), it was time to call it a night. Or morning, as dawn was only a couple hours away. Once the sun rose, I’d be out of commission whether I wanted to be or not. Vampires didn’t burn in sunlight as legend claimed, but new vamps like me passed out at sunrise and stayed out until almost dusk. That gave Vlad plenty of time to see if our duplicitous guest knew Szilagyi’s location. I hoped so, yet I doubted it. Vlad’s oldest enemy hadn’t told any of his conspirators where he was, so unless the costumed Khal Drogo proved to be the exception, we were back to square one.
I was sick of square one, hence my talking Vlad into letting me do some psychic spying tonight. If I’d had the rest of my abilities, like seeing the future or tracking someone by following their essence trail back to their location, we might have caught Szilagyi already. But turning into a vampire had caused me to lose those, and no one knew if their loss was permanent. Right now, my psychic abilities were limited to reliving people’s worst sins and recognizing essence trails. Sounded exotic, but the former was only good for giving me nightmares and the latter wouldn’t lead us to the vampire who’d proven almost impossible to kill. Finding out who Szilagyi was in collusion with only showed how far his reach had grown, and wow, had that man been busy in the three hundred years he’d been pretending to be dead.
“Anyone else?” I asked, wiping my right hand against my leg. No matter how many times I did that, it still felt like the vile images I’d seen were stuck to me.
Vlad’s gaze swept the crowd. Nothing but blank expressions stared back at him. If anyone quailed or showed fear, they’d be guaranteeing themselves a turn under my hand.
“No, that will do,” he finally said. “Bid our remaining guests good night, Leila. I’ll escort you to our room.”
I bristled at his dismissive tone. Yes, he had gruesome plans for the rest of the evening, and no, I didn’t join in on interrogations, but he was sending me to bed like a child?
“I’m staying,” I said, my brow arching in challenge.
For a second, his shields cracked, searing me with his emotions before that invisible wall slammed down again. I wasn’t the only vampire he’d made who took a step back after getting hit with that maelstrom of rage. On the outside, Vlad looked like the very picture of self-control, but inside, he was Mount Vesuvius right before it blew.
“Then again, I’m tired,” I muttered. Obviously, we were destined for a fight, and I didn’t want to have it out with Vlad in front of hundreds of strangers.
Vlad grasped my arm and began to propel me out of the ballroom. Our guests gave us a wide berth, no doubt glad to have his attention directed away from them. I didn’t bother bidding anyone good night. After Vlad slammed the ballroom door behind us, it would have been redundant anyway.
Chapter 3
“What the hell were you thinking?” Vlad demanded as soon as we entered the privacy of our bedroom.
“Which time?” I asked, refusing to back down now that we were alone. Playing dead worked when confronted with an angry grizzly, but Vlad was more like a dragon. You either fought back or you got your ass burned off while you ran away.
His gaze turned to emerald as it raked over me. “When you allowed yourself to be alone with another vampire.”
He’d already toasted the Joker; wouldn’t he be over the ass-grab by now? “I needed him to stick around until I could sneak my glove off and touch him. I didn’t think he’d come on so strong with hundreds of people only a curtain’s width away—”
Vlad seized me by the shoulders, his hands so hot I half expected my bodysuit to melt beneath them.
“You think I’m angry because he groped you?” Harsh laughter grated out of him. “That might be why I killed him, but it’s not why I’m furious now.”
“Then why
?” I shot back. “Because I didn’t leave when you ordered me to?”
“Because he could have killed you!” If our bedroom hadn’t recently been soundproofed, everyone in the ballroom would’ve heard his bellow. “I agreed to let you try your tricks tonight because you promised never to be alone with anyone, yet you went behind a curtain with a vampire I told you was ruthless enough to be in league with Szilagyi. You’re lucky he only tried to fuck you instead of stab you through the heart with silver!”
“I was alone with him for ten seconds,” I snapped.
“I could kill you a dozen times over in ten seconds,” Vlad retorted, his voice lower now. “All the different ways you could die ran through my mind as I watched you go into that alcove with him. The only reason I didn’t explode him immediately was because you were too close.”
Some of my anger drained away as I stared into his eyes. They were green with fury, yes, but something else lurked in them. An emotion I rarely saw in Vlad. Fear.
He’d honestly thought my life had been in danger. Oh, Vlad knew I would’ve fought back if the Joker had made a lethal move, but he also knew the horrible pain of losing someone he loved. Vlad’s guilt over his former wife’s suicide was the sin I saw when I first touched him. Plus, he did have a point. I shouldn’t have let the Joker draw me into a secluded alcove. I’d been in disguise, but a disguise wasn’t foolproof and Vlad’s enemies had tried to kill me before. One of them had even succeeded. Vlad changing me into a vampire after I’d bled out in his arms was the only reason I was still here, arguing with him.
“I should have been more careful,” I acknowledged, letting out a sigh. “Wanting to catch Szilagyi sooner rather than later made me careless. Aside from the hell he’s put you and me through, my sister and father have to stay in hiding until this is over. We might have all the time in the world to take Szilagyi down, but they’re human, so they don’t.”
“I don’t care,” he said with brutal honesty. “If they wish, I can replace every minute your family loses while in hiding, but I cannot replace you.”
How like Vlad to say something sweet and infuriating at the same time. Yes, if my family drank enough of his blood, he could add decades to their life span. My sister Gretchen might want that, if our hunt for Szilagyi took a long time, but my father wouldn’t. He hadn’t even spoken to me since he found out I was no longer human.
“Hopefully we won’t need that, but either way, next time, I’ll be more careful. Promise.” I brushed his face, my touch feather light compared to the grip he still had on my shoulders. “I told you before, you won’t lose me—”
“You’re right, I won’t,” he muttered, his mouth cutting off the rest of what I was going to say.
I didn’t have time to be surprised by his abrupt change in mood. Vlad backed me against the nearest wall, ripping away his emotional shields along with the front of my costume. Rage, lust and love tore through my subconscious, mixing with my feelings until I couldn’t tell which were mine and which were his. Not that it mattered. I loved him with the same crazed intensity, craved him more than the blood I now needed to survive—and no one maddened me more than Vlad. We had that in common, too.
His whiplash transition from fury to passion might’ve frightened me months ago, but now, I could feel all the things he wouldn’t allow himself to say. He needed to touch me, taste me, to ease the hated fear he’d felt when he thought I was in danger. His actions might seem more brutal than sensual, but if I pushed him away, he’d stop. Yet with every emotion that seethed through mine, he was urging me not to. Instead, he dared me to respond with the same unbridled intensity, and to free my inhibitions the way he’d freed his previously untouchable heart.
I took that dare, gripping his hair and using those long dark strands to pull him closer. His mouth was hard yet sensual as it bruised and tantalized mine, until not even moans could make it past my lips. He kissed me as though he wanted to punish me with pleasure, and when he ripped his tuxedo open and his bare flesh touched mine, I shuddered. Vlad’s dangerous powers had their own unexpected benefits, such as making his body feel like molten steel when his abilities, or desire, flared to life.
My hands left his hair to pull away the remaining pieces of his shirt. Hot, muscled flesh seared my breasts as he crushed me closer. A growl of dark carnality left him when my hand traveled down his taut stomach and into his pants. He wrapped my legs around his waist, using his body to pin me to the wall while he tore at the lower half of my costume.
My fangs scored his tongue, flavoring our kiss with the coppery taste of his blood. I sucked it from his tongue while rubbing myself against the hard length that jutted along my thigh. His grip tightened, and when he pulled my hips hard against his, I arched upward in blind, blatant need.
His first thrust made me cry out at the rapturous burn within. The sensations were so intense; I would’ve called them pain if I didn’t claw at his back for more. The rest of the cries I made were of pure ecstasy, and they went on until dawn stole my consciousness away.
The bedroom drapes were open when I awoke, showing the rosy shades of a late afternoon Romanian sky. At least it wasn’t all the way dark yet. My progress fighting against the anesthetic effects of the sun was improving.
The side of the bed where Vlad slept was empty, of course. He’d beaten the sun’s control over him centuries ago. Usually, he made a point to be in the bedroom when I woke up, but not today. With a new prisoner in the dungeons, I couldn’t say I was surprised. Vlad might doubt that the Khal Drogo-clad vampire knew where Szilagyi was, but he’d still burn him within an inch of his life to find out. Due diligence, he’d once called it.
A covered mug was on the nightstand closest to me, the warm, rich scent of blood emanating from it. I forced myself to grasp it slowly instead of snatching it up like I wanted to. For one, I was trying to get full control over my hunger, so falling on it like an animal would defeat the purpose. For another, I’d smash the mug to smithereens if I didn’t treat it with utmost gentleness and I wanted to drink the blood. Not wear it.
After I finished my liquid breakfast, something shiny caught my eye on the nightstand. Right, my wedding ring. I’d taken it off the night before because the wide gold band with its jeweled dragon would’ve outed me immediately as Leila Dalton Dracul. This was the ring Vlad had worn when he was prince of Wallachia, now called Romania. I’d thought it was the most romantic thing he’d done by resizing the ancient royal heirloom to be my wedding ring, but when I reached out to put it back on my hand, I stiffened.
I ran my right hand over the ring until the jewels that made up the tiny dragon cut my fingers, yet nothing changed. The ring felt like cold, lifeless metal, and it shouldn’t have. Three out of the four Wallachian princes it had belonged to had been murdered while wearing it, so the ring should’ve throbbed with essence imprints, yet I felt nothing. It was as if the ancient heirloom were dead.
Only one thing would make an object feel that way after I touched it with my right hand. I was already sure, but I went over to the fireplace and rammed my hand into a glowing log anyway. The fire caressed my skin instead of burning it—the way it would to only one other vampire in the world.
Shock gave way to anger, then anger to fury. At some point since I left the ballroom last night, Vlad must have coated me with a massive dose of his aura. I hadn’t noticed him doing that, of course, just like I hadn’t noticed when he did it the first time. Back then, I’d been focused on a mountain exploding all around me. This time, passion had claimed my full attention.
It couldn’t have been accidental. Not with the incredible control Vlad had over his power. He hadn’t made love to me until daybreak merely because he’d been overwhelmed by desire. He’d also done it to distract me!
That knowledge wiped away my warm memories of the previous evening as thoroughly as the ring felt wiped of its former wearers’ essences. As we both knew, coating me in his aura wouldn’t only render me fireproof; it would also render me psychic-pr
oof. Now I couldn’t do anything to help him track down Szilagyi or his associates. With one imperious move, Vlad had made a Magic 8 Ball more supernaturally intuitive than me.
“Damn you!” I yelled, betrayal making my voice echo throughout the bedroom. “Why?”
“You know why,” his calm voice said from behind me.
I whirled, seeing Vlad in the farthest corner of the bedroom. He stood so still that he almost blended into the tall furniture next to him. For a moment, I wondered if he’d been there the whole time, then I noticed the bedroom door slowly closing behind him.
“Despite your promise, you won’t be more careful next time,” he went on, his burnished copper gaze unwavering. “In many ways, you are wise beyond your years, but your impatience makes you reckless. You already died once when an enemy used your recklessness and overconfidence in your abilities against you. I won’t allow the same thing to happen again.”
I went over to him, anger causing sparks to shoot from my right hand. No matter what happened, nothing seemed to be able to smother that ability.
“I know I screwed up last night, but you can’t just decide to strip me of my psychic powers, Vlad! They’ve saved my life and yours before, plus in the twenty-first century, husband is no longer synonymous with master.”
When I’d almost reached him, he grabbed my hands, the currents that were so dangerous to everyone else absorbing harmlessly into his skin. Being fireproof had more than one advantage.
“I’m very aware that I’m not your master. If one of my people disobeyed me the way you did, they’d spend a month on the pole learning to regret it.”
Anger gave way to incredulity. “Are you threatening to impale me?”