Claimed by the Immortal tc-4 Read online

  Caro thought that over, trying to recall anything her grandmother might have said about elementals. Well, maybe she had spoken of them, in terms of nature spirits. More of the stuff Caro had found so hard to swallow. “If you’re a mage, why can’t you just cast a spell to shut it down? And if it has no mind, why would it follow me?”

  “First, I’m not absolutely certain it’s an elemental, although I’m inclined to think so. Second, I don’t know what summoning was used or for what reason. All of those things matter if I’m to be effective against it. As for why it would follow you, my guess is that it was simply ordered to leave no witnesses. Or it may be that the mage or bokor who summoned it was using his power to watch what it did and then attached it to you. Do you see the difficulty here? Until I know exactly what we’re dealing with, I have no way to counter it. Take those youths outside the store. I could cast no spell against the force driving them because I don’t know what it is or its purpose. I’d have had to resort to physical action.”

  That did nothing at all to brighten Caro’s mood. Apparently there was a cliff on the edge of reality, and through no fault of her own, she had tumbled over it and was now in free fall, her every attempt to avoid this notwithstanding.

  She looked over at the vampire who had done his own part to toss her into the abyss, and she hated him. But even as she hated him, she wanted him. How messed up was that?

  To be fair, though, she had to admit she was the one who had wanted to “settle it,” and she had achieved exactly the opposite. She almost blushed when she remembered being pressed up against a wall, supported only by it and by the hand he’d so expertly used on her most private of places.

  She hadn’t thought herself capable of such things. Glancing at him from the corner of her eye, she wondered how much more she might have in her to do. He certainly brought to mind things she’d never really thought about before.

  Then she blurted, “What happens when you drink someone’s blood?”

  He looked up from the parchment pages he’d been reading so swiftly that they seemed to be blown by the wind. “In what way? To a human? To a vampire?”

  “I didn’t realize it was so complex.”

  “That depends on how much and what you want to know.”

  She hesitated, half-sorry she had brought this up but filled with curiosity anyway. Short-term, at least, she had a relationship with this vampire. Understanding was always useful for getting along, and for self-protection. While she mostly believed that Damien wouldn’t physically hurt her, there were other ways he could harm her. Best to be prepared and informed.

  “Start with threats to me,” she said bluntly.

  “Ah.” The pages had stopped turning, and now he rested one hand on the open book. His eyes seemed to darken, and she made a mental note to ask about that, too.

  “Threats to you? None that are serious. I may want to share sex with you and I definitely want to taste your blood, but I wouldn’t take as much blood as you’d give as a donation to a blood bank. So, as you see, I wouldn’t debilitate you in any way. The only danger to you is one I believe Jude exaggerates.”

  “Which is?”

  “Some people enjoy it so much that they become addicted.”

  Addicted to having your blood drunk. “That’s possible?”

  “It is. I have seen it. An unscrupulous member of my kind would take so much and give so much pleasure while doing it that the experience becomes like cocaine. There are people who have become so addicted from a single encounter with a vampire that they haunt the vampire clubs seeking another such experience. Unfortunately, they become victims of the unscrupulous, who take but don’t return the pleasures.”

  Caro was aware of more than one vampire club around town. “Most of those clubs seem relatively harmless—people just getting off on a fantasy.”

  “Most of the time that’s all it is. They play little games and pretend.”

  “It bothers me that some of the people pretending to be vampires actually drink blood, though.”

  He lifted a brow. “Why, if it’s by mutual consent?”

  “Because I can’t imagine a normal person wanting to drink blood.”

  “Ah.” He thought about that. “The world is full of kinks, isn’t it? But for me this isn’t a kink. It’s reality. Blood repels you?”

  “In and of itself, no. But I know I couldn’t drink it without getting sick.”

  “I suppose that would be a common reaction among humans.”

  Then she snapped back to what she had originally been trying to understand, and it wasn’t how some humans could drink the blood of another. She understood enough about the range of kinks from her job. She had seen far more dangerous ones than simply allowing someone to poke you or give you a minor cut to drink a few sips of blood. Worse than wanting to drink blood or give blood to someone who did, some fetishes were absolutely deadly.

  “So the only way you could harm me is to make me addicted to you?”

  “Not the only way. But I’d get no pleasure from having you addicted. I’d regret it. So far I’ve managed never to do that.”

  “But what is so good about it?”

  His gaze darkened even more. “I can’t really explain. You’ll have to take my word. There’s a place between life and death where only a vampire can take you, a place so full of ecstasy that words simply aren’t enough to describe it.”

  Ecstasy. He said it with such calm assurance that she found it hard to argue. What was more, the way he said it made her tingle and throb again. The experience he had given her such a short time ago had awoken cravings in her entire body. If he could give her even more than that...

  But she shied away from the thought, hating that he had the power to evoke such a strong response. And it was indeed power. She loathed feeling that someone could control her being so easily.

  Angry with herself, she spoke acidly. “I suppose you vampires just walk away untouched by all this havoc you wreak on humans.”

  “No.” He sounded annoyed and his eyes grew as black as a moonless, starless night. “It would help if you understood something. If I drink from someone, they become an everlasting part of me. I may not ever see them again. I may not even care to ever see them again. But they become part of me, whether I choose it or not. Thus I am careful in my choices. I don’t want to be populated by the demons of others, their aches and pains and griefs. Minor though they may be, just imagine how they could accumulate over the centuries. At least bagged blood carries none of those risks because it is basically dead. For me anyway.”

  That was an appalling thought, but she wasn’t quite ready to give up her anger, because it helped corral her chaotic emotions and protect her from him. “Well, then, I guess you should choose only empty-headed bimbos. That leaves me out.”

  His laugh astonished her, but laughter or not, his eyes remained black. “No. I choose those I find sympathetic or compatible. That way, not only can I give them unparalleled pleasure, but they give me something, as well.”

  “So what is it about me?”

  Much to her pleasure, he appeared to be at a loss.

  “I’m not sure,” he said eventually. “Perhaps it would be best if we never found out. You may think I’m dangerous to you, Caro, but to be perfectly honest, I suspect you’re a danger to me.”

  With that he lowered his head and resumed reading, making it utterly clear that he was done with this conversation.

  A conversation that had done little to settle Caro’s mind. How could she possibly be a danger to him? She had even waved her service pistol at him and he hadn’t seemed the least fazed by it.

  “How could I endanger you?” she asked, not caring if she interrupted his reading.

  She heard a faint sigh, and then he was leaning over her, so fast she hadn’t seen him move. There was that little problem, she thought sourly. How could you shoot something that moved faster than sight? How did you protect yourself? Danger to him? Hah!

  “You play with fire,
Caro,” he said softly.

  “Yeah?” She could feel her chin thrust forward, defying him. “What kind of fire? And just how do you get singed?”

  He shook his head a little. “Another time. It may not even be a real danger. I just know I feel these little warnings.”

  Then, without so much as a by-your-leave, he reached out to touch her hair, then ran his fingers down her cheek to her throat, then lower still until they brushed the peak of one breast.

  Instantly she was on fire for him, and if there’d been any blood left in her head, instead of all of it pooling between her legs to create a hard, heavy, damp ache, she might have blushed.

  But her blood had already pooled down there, enflaming sensitive tissues, making everything else fade to insignificance. She wanted to hate him for that but couldn’t manage it. She also wanted to hate him because she saw the flicker of awareness cross his face as he smelled her reaction to his touch.

  From somewhere came the wild thought that she wished she could plug his nose just to maintain her privacy.

  But it was hopeless now. He knew. Her body couldn’t decide whether to clamp her thighs together or let them fall open to invite his touch. Right now every ounce of her being was centered between her legs.

  “Damn you,” she managed to whisper.

  Instantly he reappeared across the room, but he didn’t look amused. “I might say the same to you,” he remarked. “A willing woman responding to me the way you do is one thing. Unwilling is another. Damn you, too, Caro, because I feel the same desire.”

  He felt the same desire? Really? Surprise filled her, causing her to realize for the first time just how much she needed that kind of reassurance. Control was an important part of her self-image, and she had never thought herself needy in the least way. But here she was, needy and relieved to know she wasn’t the only one feeling it.

  He closed the book he’d been reading with a definitive snap. “I need to get out of here. You perfume the room with enticing scents. Fresh air is the only answer.”

  He rose, then paused. “But I can’t leave you alone.”

  “What difference does it make?” she asked, swamped both in the desire she felt and in the inevitable fear she felt about being alone right now. It wasn’t an overpowering fear—she wasn’t certain she was capable of that—but it was uncomfortable nonetheless.

  “Difference?” he repeated. “It might make the difference about whether I pounce on you. As I recall, you’re distinctly opposed to pouncing.”

  Any other time, this might have been an amusing conversation. Pounce? Why did that sound like such a funny yet good word all of a sudden?

  “Pouncing aside,” she said, “you do remember those guys outside Alika’s shop? They weren’t there by accident. I probably could have handled that group, but what if this power sends something else? Witnessing may not be enough to protect me, so I’d rather have backup alongside.”

  The corners of his mouth tipped upward. “Backup? You mean you’d rather have my strength, my powers and my ability to kill at your side?”

  The cop in her rebelled at the part about his ability to kill, and then she wondered why it should. Didn’t she always hit the streets with an armed partner? And this one seemed better armed than most for the threat they were facing. Guns clearly weren’t going to cut it unless to kill humans who were under some outside control.

  “Can I be frank?” she asked.

  “Of course. I’m frank with you. To use Jude’s phrase, I want you like hell on fire. I admit that phrase has always perplexed me, but it seems to convey the meaning adequately.”

  Now she flushed a little. “Pull in your fangs and your pheromones, or whatever you’re using on me.”

  “Trust me,” he said bluntly, “I’m using none of my wiles on you. They clearly don’t work. In this particular situation, you seem to have all the wiles.”

  Now that made her feel good. A different kind of warmth settled in her. As she’d discovered, not too many men were interested in an armed woman, except possibly for her handcuffs. “Let’s get back to my point.”

  “Certainly. Something about killing, I presume.”

  “Actually, yes. The thing is, Damien, I don’t want to kill people who are being controlled by that elemental, or whatever it is. I really don’t. If they’re acting under the influence of something they don’t understand and can’t control, why should they pay with their lives?”

  He tilted his head. “Moral questions used to be so much simpler.”

  “It’s called social evolution,” she said tartly.

  A chuckle escaped him. “Point taken, though I don’t always agree. All right. You want any pawns to be removed from the table alive.”

  “Yes.”

  “I can promise to try. But there is your so-called doctrine of self-defense. I might also point out that you carry a gun, which speaks volumes about how you yourself might respond to some threats.”

  That disgruntled her a bit, because it was true. “Okay. But here’s the thing. I was taught to try to defuse situations rather than escalate them. So if you use your powers, try that weird persuasion thing first.”

  “The Voice,” he said. “It works perhaps ninety percent of the time. Not on you, evidently.”

  She wasn’t so sure about that as she recalled how his command to those youths had seemed to tingle its way through her body. She hadn’t felt controlled by it, but she had certainly felt it.

  “So,” he said, “do we take a walk or do I sit here trying to concentrate on a book that I can barely read because of the distraction your scents provide?”

  “Some help you’re going to be,” she retorted.

  “It’s my nature.” The words were in no way apologetic.

  “Let’s go for a walk. Weren’t there some other stores to visit?”

  “Moving from one confined place to another with you is hardly going to help,” he grumbled. “No car. Jude probably took it. Which may be the only thing that saves me.”

  “How does it save you?”

  “Good heavens, woman, have you no idea why I keep rolling down windows?”

  The frustration he expressed, combined with finally understanding why he kept freezing her in the car, made her giggle.

  “You think this is funny?” he demanded.

  “Kind of,” she said, still giggling. “I just hadn’t thought about why you kept rolling down the windows.”

  “Now you know. I really own no desire to turn you into an icicle. You’re driving me insane, so show a little pity.”

  The idea of him wanting her to show a little pity amused her and kept her secretly grinning while she bundled up for the cold winter night. While the daytime heat from the sun, buildings and cars had melted away almost all the snow, at night chilly winds blew in the canyons between buildings, icy enough to be threatening.

  But Damien donned no extra clothing. He hadn’t taken off his black leather jacket when they’d come inside, and he added nothing to it as they departed.

  “You really don’t get cold?” she asked as she jammed her gloved hands into her pockets and bent into the wind.

  “No. I don’t get hot either. At least in the traditional sense.”

  That brought another secret grin to her lips. “Why not?”

  “How should I know? I don’t even know how I exist. Of course, you really don’t either, if you want to get down to the nitty-gritty details. But to answer your question, I don’t feel temperature at all unless it comes from human contact. Hot or cold makes no difference to me. I could walk naked in Antarctica for a week and return to tell you how lovely it was.”

  The idea both amazed and saddened her. “Don’t you miss it? I can’t imagine not feeling warmth, especially on a night like this.”

  “You could give me warmth. As for missing it...” He shrugged a shoulder. “We’re adaptable, just as you are. We get used to it. The only time I think about it is when I’m touching a human and feel it again. Then it becomes so pleasura
ble, I ache for it.”

  She fell silent, scanning the streets out of long habit, hunched within her jacket, the hood drawn tight. “I guess,” she said finally, “I don’t think about it much. The weather is the weather. When it’s cold, I turn on the heat. When it gets too hot, air-conditioning. But I can’t imagine not feeling it at all. Especially a good hot shower.”

  A half laugh escaped him. “You humans spend a lot of money and effort to make sure you live in an unchanging temperature environment. You prefer not to notice the cold or heat. I simply can’t.”

  That was an interesting way to think of it. But there were good things, too, like coming in from an icy day and warming up with a mug of coffee or hot chocolate. Feeling your cheeks and toes burn a bit as they revived. Minor things perhaps, but she doubted she would want to give them up—even though she sometimes came home from a shift feeling like a miserable icicle, or like something that had been steamed for too long.

  “How far is this place we’re going to?”

  “It’s over on West Bolger.”

  She pulled up her mental map of the city. “If we walk we’re not going to have a whole lot of time to get you back before dawn, especially if we stay too long at this place.”

  “Well, I could make it all happen faster, if you’d allow me.”

  “How so?”

  “I could carry you. You’ll get colder, but we’ll move faster than the wind.”

  She had no doubt of that, having seen him appear to disappear and rematerialize out of thin air. But to have him carry her? Being that close to him was dangerous to her peace of mind. Worse, letting him carry her would leave her with absolutely no control of anything.

  On the other hand, the streets were getting colder, the walk would be long and time consuming, and it seemed really pointless to waste all this time if they didn’t have to.

  “So you don’t have a car?” she asked.

  “No, I’m on a visit. I came because Jude needed help.”

  “Help for what?” She was stalling and knew it, but she was curious, too.