Mariah’s mouth dried. She’d felt a brush of Quintus’s interest, but she sensed that Quintus wanted every woman he laid his eyes on—he was an equal opportunity pervert. The other vampires of course would pounce on Mariah if they could, which was why she carried a stunner and stakes.
“What do you mean, my master?” she asked in puzzlement. “Who are you talking about?”
“The Spaniard. He would give you to them to save himself.”
“Spaniard?” Mariah wrinkled her brow. “Oh, you mean Alejo. Sergeant Cruz.” She held back a smile. “He’s not giving me to anyone. I outrank him. If he’s irritable today, it’s because he has a hangover.”
Cai listened, frowning, but he shook his head. “I am not wrong that they would sacrifice you. You are fodder to them, and I am not letting them go until you are safe.”
Mariah clenched the stake in her gloved hand. “All right then. I’ll be safe when you come with me to the station.”
Cai took another step down to her, and another. He towered over her, his hand on the railing full of strength.
“I will not be captured again,” he said, his voice fierce. “They took everything from me and shut me in walls because they could not kill me. Your soldiers and priests will not have me. If you kill me for this, then so be it.”
Shit. Mariah should stake him now—he’d just admitted he’d do anything to avoid arrest. She could get up under his reach and drive the stake right into his heart.
He’d collapse into a bloody mess of bone and flesh. Vampires didn’t explode into dust as they did on television—their death was far more gruesome and disgusting.
Mariah looked at Cai, who was more alive than any being she’d ever encountered, and knew she couldn’t render him so much slop to be cleaned up with a hose.
Cai watched her a moment longer, then he abruptly turned and continued up the stairs. At the top of the next landing, he banged his way through a door onto one of the condo floors. Mariah shook herself out of her shock and ran after him.
* * *
She followed. Cai had suspected she would. Mariah was afraid, not so much of what he’d do to her, but what he’d do to the rest of the world.
She had no need to worry—Cai had no interest in the rest of the world. He wanted only to nurse his grief and try to forget the pain that lodged in his heart. Maybe oblivion at the point of her stake was the way to peace.
Not before he found out about her, though. Mariah fascinated him. Twice she’d had the chance to kill him, and twice she’d chosen not to. He hadn’t stopped her—she chose.
Cai would hold off final death until he discovered as much as he could about this young woman who claimed no one could hurt her. She was so very wrong.
The rooms he found on the upper floors of the building were strange. The Spanish in this part of the world had built in hot, dry valleys near the sea, but inside this dwelling it was cool, pleasantly so. The first door he tried was locked but opened easily to his touch.
Behind it, Cai found what looked like lodgings—apartments had not changed all that much in the three thousand years he’d walked the earth. A front room was for living and eating, a back room for sleeping. The living area had a fireplace—those hadn’t changed either except this one was fronted with faux stone and mirrors. Cai wasn’t certain how one so small spread much warmth, but the winters here weren’t that cold, he remembered. The cupboards in what he assumed was the cooking area looked handy, but what the metal cabinets with knobs on them were for he wasn’t certain. A tall steel box in one corner hummed unpleasantly.
There wasn’t much furniture—the front room had an austere black divan and a table too small for dining. The bedroom had a mattress covered with a black quilt. Not very imaginative decor.
A door from the bedroom led into a smaller room lined with marble. In the middle of this was something Cai recognized—an oval tub built right into the floor. A fine idea, though he hoped the weight of it when filled didn’t drop it to the rooms below. The building seemed solid enough—he’d risk it.
“I will bathe,” he announced to Mariah without turning to her. She was behind him—he’d always know where she was. “Fetch a servant to bring up water.”
He was startled by her laugh. Lovely, clear laughter, like the wind in spring. Cai turned to see her eyes lit up with amusement, making them even more beautiful.
“First of all, you have everyone who works here downstairs in a trance,” she said. “Second, no one needs to haul water.”
She walked past him to the tub and turned a handle. There was a gurgle and then water gushed from a pipe down into the tub. The water was amazingly clear, the pressure strong. He’d had water running into his house in Rome, but people had lost the trick of it for such a very long time after that.
Mariah cranked another lever that prevented the water being sucked out down a drain, and stepped back. “How long were you inside the walls?”
“What is the year?” Cai asked. Steam rose from the bath to flush Mariah’s face and curl the hair at her forehead. “Do you still count it as Anno Domini, or has another sect taken over?”
“We still use AD,” Mariah said. “Some people call it CE now—Common Era, but it starts with the same baseline year. Anyway, this is the twenty-first century.”
Cai thought that through, trying not to flinch at how much time he’d lost. “I was captured in the year seventeen hundred and seventy four. Chased by soldiers and priests for breaking their laws, caught by priests and witches. They lured me into the cave, told me my daughter’s body was there. They said I could take her, to bury her.” He cut off the words, the pain of them too much.
“That’s terrible.” Mariah’s sympathy touched him like a tendril of a breeze. “I’m so sorry about all of that. Vampires have rights now. Whatever you did to make them come after you, you now would have a trial. Due process.”
Cai swung around, his rage returning. “What I did?” He advanced on Mariah, tasting the fury that more than two hundred years had not abated. She watched him come, her lips parted. “I killed the men who raped and murdered my daughter. I broke their necks but I didn’t drain them—I didn’t want their blood in my mouth. They were evil men, complacent and sanctimonious, who were supposed to be civilizing the wilds. They wanted Pepita and made the excuse that they had to brutalize her because she was a child of the devil. They didn’t stop until they had taken her life. So I killed them. That is what I did.”
He turned his back to Mariah, who listened, eyes wide, and plunged into the half-filled bathtub.
Chapter Four
Mariah watched him in shock. Cai’s pain radiated to her, making her entire body hurt. The horror of what he’d gone through, the flashes of seeing his daughter dead, knowing what the priests had done, came to her without mercy. She tried to shut it out, but Cai was too strong, his thoughts too sharp.
She dragged in a breath. Knowing what he had gone through allowed Mariah to understand him better, but she had to keep it together.
She distracted herself from his torment by watching him lower his perfect body into the water, his spine remaining straight as he sank into the tub. The faucet continued to flow, Cai making no move to shut it off.
He scooped water into his large hands and splashed it over his face as though desperate to cleanse himself, then dragged his hands down his arms, trying to scrub away the dirt of centuries.
Numbly, Mariah moved to the vanity and plucked up the bottles of soap and shampoo Quintus had stocked. It was a high-quality brand, only the best for well-paying clients. Mariah carried the bottles to the tub, holding them out to Cai in her gloved hand.
Cai continued to splash and scrub, shaking water from his hair. He at last looked up.
Vampire eyes gazed at her from a face now mostly free of grime. His slicked-back hair showed his high cheekbones, a strong jaw, straight nose, and eyes of golden brown. Cai pinned her with those eyes as he held one hand out toward her.
“Join me.”
/> His words rumbled over the sound of rushing water. The tub was ready to overflow, but Mariah would have to reach past him to release the drain or turn off the tap.
She tossed the bottles into the tub where they splashed down then popped up on the surface. “That’s shampoo for your hair and soap for the rest of your body. I’ll grab you some towels.”
“Mariah.” Cai’s hand, unmoving, dripped water down his slick arm. “Come to me.”
He put vampire compulsion into his words. Mariah’s feet took two hesitant steps forward before she dug in her heels and shook her head.
Cai looked surprised at her resistance. Of course he was surprised—Mariah shouldn’t be able to withstand a call from an Old One. But she’d learned from many years of self-preservation how to do anything to keep from touching a death-magic creature.
Cai glanced behind her at the open door then made a motion with his outstretched hand. The bathroom door slammed shut, the lock clicking into place.
Mariah made herself not jump. She’d dealt with vamps with telekinesis before. They could shut and lock the door but not seal it. All Mariah had to do was turn away, unlock the door again, and walk out.
So why was her breath labored, her heart pounding? She ought to get the hell out of here, call for backup, have a squad take Cai down.
But would that do any good? Mariah thought about the men and vamps in the basement of the club, frozen like statues, frustration and rage pouring from them.
“You know, you’re not arrogant, or anything,” Mariah said, keeping her tone light.
Cai didn’t smile. His eyes held no gloating, no pleasure. “Why not come to me, Mariah? We’ll soothe each other.”
He needed her, Mariah realized with a jolt. He wasn’t looking for a quick feed, a quick screw. He wanted her touch, for another being to be next to him.
For the one thing Mariah couldn’t give him.
“I can’t,” she said, her voice scratchy.
Cai slowly lowered his hand. He regarded her closely, his immediate need easing off as a flicker of curiosity appeared in his eyes. “Why do you resist? You want this. I see it in you.”
Mariah spread her fingers, showing him her gloves. “If I let a vamp touch me, I’ll lose what makes me myself. I’ll lose my telepathic ability. My gift.”
Suspicion entered his expression. “Who told you that?”
“Everyone. My mother. My grandmother. It’s in our genes. We have the power only if we don’t touch death-magic creatures.”
Cai continued to study her, his pain floating to the background as he digested her words.
“Besides,” Mariah went on, her tone dry. “I’m not getting into a bathtub full of dirty water.”
Cai’s answering laugh was surprisingly warm. He scooped up the bottles, studied them until he figured out how to unscrew the tops, then leaned back and dumped the entire contents of both across his chest.
Mariah blinked as he lathered up with strong hands, gliding the soap over his face and hair, then stood to stroke down his body. Water cascaded from the tub, the faucet still running, and spread across the floor.
Cai rose to his full height, suds dripping down his naked, gleaming back. His buttocks were tight under his firm spine, and when he turned around, water and soap slid down his long, thick cock.
Mariah’s face burned as she tried not to look, but it was impossible. Cai lifted soap and water under his balls, his hand moving all the way up to the tip of his cock and back down again.
“Having you stand there looking at me, Mariah,” he said in a quiet voice, “is killing me.”
It wasn’t having a good effect on Mariah’s health either. Cai skimmed his cock once again, leaving it half erect and soapy. Mariah couldn’t look away, couldn’t move.
Cai slid his hands up to scrub his arms and neck. “How do you know you will lose your ability?”
Mariah jumped, taking a moment to realize he’d spoken. “We know. A demon woman touched my cousin, and now his gift is gone. He’s devastated.”
Water lapped her sensible shoes. Mariah shook herself and marched around the tub to crank off the tap and release the drain. The water eased downward with a muffled gurgling sound. “You’re not supposed to leave the faucet on.”
“In the baths of my youth, the water ran constantly in and out.” Cai’s voice rumbled too close to her. “Always clean.” His gaze was on her face, not the soapy tub.
“That’s what we use showers for.” Mariah gestured with shaking fingers to the glass stall in the corner.
Cai climbed out of the tub. He didn’t need to grab anything to balance, didn’t reach for towels. He simply stepped out, walking on strong feet to the shower, leaving little pools behind him.
He put his hands on the faucets, figured them out, and sent a stream pouring over him. The shower had both a rain head fixed to the ceiling and a handheld sprayer on the wall. Water came out of both of these to streak the soap from Cai, and also to spew all over the bathroom. He hadn’t bothered to close the glass door.
Mariah started laughing.
* * *
Her laughter was beautiful. Cai turned around and looked at Mariah while water poured down his body, washing away dirt and his past.
Her smile lit her eyes and erased her fears. Mariah was terrified of him, but not because he could overpower her, drain her of blood, kill her. No, she feared both his touch and the fact that she wanted it.
Right now, though, she simply laughed. Her topaz eyes lit, her face flushed, and the beauty of her shone through. She had life magic in huge doses, which called out to the opposite magic that filled Cai. Light and dark, life and death. They constantly wanted to meld and balance, which was what kept the world from spinning into chaos.
He believed her when she said that she should not touch death magic or her ability would be gone. Such things happened—Mariah and her line could have been cursed by a strong mage somewhere in the past. A curse like that could be undone, however, if an equally strong mage was found who knew how.
Mariah wrapped her arms around herself. “Oh, man, Quintus will shit himself when he sees this mess. I bet it’s leaking into the room below.”
Cai didn’t give a damn about the guest quarters of a weak vamp trying to fool others into groveling before him. He would tear the building down with his bare hands and feed it to so-called Quintus if he had to.
He shut off the water to please Mariah, the soap and dirt sliding quickly down the drain. He walked out on clean bare feet, toes splashing on the wet floor.
Cai moved straight to Mariah, who ceased laughing as he approached. But she didn’t run.
He stopped a pace away. Cool air touched his skin, easing it from the heat of the shower. Mariah looked straight into Cai’s eyes without being caught by his vampire powers. Cai looked back into hers, and was lost.
He lifted his hand, letting it hover near her cheek. Cai wanted to taste her, this woman who’d rescued him. Her lips, her mouth, her skin. He wanted to lick her neck and feel the blood rushing through her, wanted the barest taste of it in his mouth.
“Please.” Mariah’s breath brushed his lips. “It’s not a lie. I’ll lose my telepathy. My gift.”
Cai moved his hand in the air an inch away from her, feeling her warmth, her aura crackling like fire. “This telepathy is not your gift, Mariah.”
Her eyes widened. “What does that mean?” she asked, lips too close to his.
Cai let his hand drop. He couldn’t have her—not right now. If he took her, Mariah’s fear and dismay would overwhelm any joy he might find in the act. He would never do to Mariah what had been done to Pepita. He would never hurt her.
“Your gift is so much more.” Cai turned away from her with reluctance, walking to the pile of towels she’d set out and snatching one up. The towel was thick and soft, not like the smooth linen he was used to. “Maybe one day, you’ll understand that.” He ran the towel over his arms. “Now, help me find clothes to wear in this new world. I want to
see what it’s like.”
* * *
Mariah watched Cai rummage through the closets of the vamps who already lived in the building until he found things that fit him. Mariah had to explain zippers to him, which he found vastly interesting.
“In the time before I went to sleep, a man did not go out without at least four layers of clothing between himself and the world,” Cai said as he settled a leather jacket over a T-shirt and jeans. “This is more practical, though not as practical as Roman garb. They were an imminently practical people—in dress and in invading a territory and enslaving its inhabitants.”
Mariah looked Cai over, liking what she saw. “It’s too hot for the jacket.” Not that she was going to let him leave the building until her backup arrived.
Cai shrugged, broad shoulders lifting smoothly. “Heat or cold make little difference to me.”
He was speaking English entirely now—he’d picked it up from Mariah’s thoughts, he said, and was a quick study.
Mariah tried to block his way out of the apartment where he’d found the jacket. “You know I can’t let you out in the streets. Please come with me, Cai. Let me process you.”
A slow smile spread over his face, erasing lines of sadness, a wicked light glinting in his eyes. “When you process me, we will be alone, in a place of my choosing.” He lifted his hand and spread it in front of her, as though wanting to touch her but keeping himself from doing it. “I will be everything for you, Mariah. Let me take away your fear.”
If Mariah quit being afraid, she’d lose all she had. She’d surrender to Cai, drowning in his voice, his eyes, his touch. She’d let her telepathy go, making herself vulnerable to the mind powers of death-magic creatures, and she’d likely lose her job. Even low-level telepaths were more valued in the paranormal police division than those with no magic at all.