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Synopsis
Two hundred years have passed since Anna Randal gave herself to Conde Cezar in a night of relentless passion. Since then, Anna has become filled with unearthly power she can't begin to comprehend. And the sexy, charming vampire responsible has eluded all of her efforts to track him down, until now . . .
Cezar's blissful encounter with Anna cost him two centuries of penance. But one thing hasn't changed-his body's response to her is as urgent as ever. Now, commanded by the Oracles to keep watch over Anna, Cezar finds himself torn between his need to protect her-and to possess her.
Someone wants Anna dead. And as an ancient enemy prepares to wage a terrifying battle, Anna must decide whether to succumb to a dark, burning desire-and accept a destiny that could change the world forever . . .
Release date: March 3, 2009
Publisher: Zebra Books
Print pages: 384
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Darkness Revealed
Alexandra Ivy
London, 1814
The ballroom was a startling blaze of color. In the flickering candlelight the satin-and-silk-draped maidens twirled in the arms of dashing gentlemen, the brilliant flare of their jewels making a rainbow of shimmering fireworks that was reflected in the mirrors that were set in the walls.
The elegant pageantry was near breathtaking, but it was not the passing spectacle that caught and held the attention of the numerous guests.
That honor belonged solely to Conde Cezar.
With the amused arrogance that belonged solely to the aristocracy, he moved through the crowd, needing only a lift of his slender hand to have them parting like the Red Sea to clear him a path, or a glance from his smoldering black eyes to send the ladies (and a few gentlemen) into a fluttering frenzy of excitement.
Much to her annoyance, Miss Anna Randal did her own share of fluttering as she caught sight of that faintly golden, exquisitely chiseled profile. Stupid, really, since gentlemen such as the Conde would never lower themselves to take notice of a poor, insignificant maiden who spent her evenings in one dark corner or another.
Such gentlemen did, however, take notice of beautiful, enticing young maidens who would boldly encourage the most hardened reprobate.
Which was the only reason that Anna forced herself to follow in the wake of his lean, elegant form as he left the ballroom and made his way up the sweeping staircase. Being a poor relation meant that she was forced to take on whatever unpleasant task happened to crop up, and on this evening, her unpleasant task included keeping a close eye upon her cousin Morgana, who was clearly fascinated by gentlemen such as the dangerous Conde Cezar.
A fascination that might very well end in scandal for the entire family.
Hurrying to keep the slender male form in sight, Anna impatiently hiked up the cheap muslin of her gown. As she had expected he turned at the top of the stairs and made his way down the corridor that led to the private chambers. Such a rake would never attend something as tedious as a ball without having a nefarious assignation arranged beforehand.
All she need do was ensure that Morgana was not the beneficiary of that nefarious part and Anna could return to her dark corner in the ballroom and watch the other maidens enjoy their evening.
Grimacing at the thought, Anna paused as her quarry slipped through a door and disappeared.
Damnation. Now what? Although she had seen nothing of Morgana, that was no assurance that she was not already hidden in the room awaiting the Conde’s arrival.
Cursing her vain, self-centered cousin, who considered nothing beyond her own pleasures, Anna moved forward and carefully pushed open the heavy door. She would just take a quick peek and then…
A scream was wrenched from her throat as slender fingers grasped her wrist in a cold, brutal grip, jerking her into the dark room and slamming the door behind her.
The reception room of the hotel on Michigan Avenue was a blaze of color. In the light of the chandelier Chicago’s movers and shakers strutted about like peacocks, occasionally glancing toward the massive fountain in the center of the room where a handful of Hollywood B-list stars were posing for photographs with the guests, for an obscene fee that supposedly went to some charity or another.
The similarity to another evening was not lost on Anna as she once again hovered in a dark corner watching Conde Cezar move arrogantly through the room.
Of course, that other evening had been nearly two hundred years ago. And while she hadn’t physically aged a day (which she couldn’t deny saved a butt-load on plastic surgery and gym memberships), she wasn’t that shy, spineless maiden who had to beg for a few crumbs from her aunt’s table. That girl had died the night Conde Cezar had taken her hand and hauled her into a dark bedchamber.
And good riddance to her.
Her life might be all kinds of weird, but Anna had discovered she could take care of herself. In fact, she did a damn fine job of it. She would never go back to being that timid girl who wore shabby muslin gowns (not to mention the corset-from-hell).
That didn’t, however, mean she had forgotten that fateful night.
Or Conde Cezar.
He had some explaining to do. Explaining on an epic scale.
Which was the only reason she had traveled to Chicago from her current home in Los Angeles.
Absently sipping the champagne that had been forced into her hand by one of the bare-chested waiters, Anna studied the man who had haunted her dreams.
When she had read in the paper that the Conde would be traveling from Spain to attend this charity event she had known that there was always the possibility the man would be a relative of the Conde she had known in London. The aristocracy was obsessed with sticking their offspring with their own name. As if it weren’t enough they had to share DNA.
One glance was enough to guarantee it was no relative.
Mother Nature was too fickle to make such an exact duplicate of those lean, golden features, the dark, smoldering eyes, the to-die-for body…
And that hair.
As black as sin, it fell in a smooth river to his shoulders. Tonight he had pulled back the top layer in a gold clasp, leaving the bottom to brush the expensive fabric of his tux.
If there was a woman in the room who wasn’t imagining running her fingers through that glossy mane, then Anna would eat her silver-beaded bag. Conde Cezar had only to step into a room for the estrogen to charge into hyperdrive.
A fact that was earning him more than a few I-wish-looks-could-kill glares from the Hollywood pretty boys by the fountain.
Anna muttered a curse beneath her breath. She was allowing herself to be distracted.
Okay, the man looked like some conquering conquistador. And those dark eyes held a sultry heat that could melt steel at a hundred paces. But she had already paid the price for being blinded by the luscious dark beauty.
It wasn’t happening again.
Busily convincing herself that the tingles in the pit of her stomach were nothing more than expensive champagne bubbles, Anna stiffened as the unmistakable scent of apples filled the air.
Before she ever turned she knew who it would be. The only question was…why?
“Well, well. If it isn’t Anna the Good Samaritan,” Sybil Taylor drawled, her sweet smile edged with spite. “And at one of those charity events you claim are nothing more than an opportunity for the A-listers to preen for the paparazzi. I knew that holier-than-thou attitude was nothing more than a sham.”
Anna didn’t gag, but it was a near thing.
Despite the fact that both women lived in L.A. and they were both lawyers, they couldn’t have been more opposite.
Sybil was a tall, curvaceous brunette with pale skin and large brown eyes. Anna on the other hand barely skimmed the five-foot mark and had brown hair and hazel eyes. Sybil was a corporate lawyer who possessed the morals of a…well, actually she didn’t possess the morals of anything. She had no morals. Anna, on the other hand, worked at a free law clinic that battled corporate greed on a daily basis.
“Obviously I should have studied the guest list a bit more carefully,” Anna retorted, caught off guard, but not entirely surprised by the sight of the woman. Sybil Taylor possessed a talent for rubbing elbows with the rich and famous, wherever they might be.
“Oh, I would say that you studied the guest list as closely as every other woman in the room.” Sybil deliberately glanced across the room to where the Conde Cezar toyed with a heavy gold signet ring on his little finger. “Who is he?”
For a heartbeat, Anna battled the urge to slap that pale, perfect face. Almost as if she resented the woman’s interest in the Conde.
Stupid, Anna.
Stupid and dangerous.
“Conde Cezar,” she muttered.
Sybil licked her lips that were too full to be real. Of course, there wasn’t much about Sybil Taylor that was real.
“Euro trash or the real deal?” the woman demanded.
Anna shrugged. “As far as I know, the title is real enough.”
“He is…edible.” Sybil ran her hands down the little black dress that made a valiant effort to cover her considerable curves. “Married?”
“I haven’t a clue.”
“Hmmmm. Gucci tux, Rolex watch, Italian leather shoes.” She tapped a manicured nail against too-perfect teeth. “Gay?”
Anna had to remind her heart to beat. “Most definitely not.”
“Ah…I smell a history between the two of you. Do tell.”
Against her will Anna’s gaze strayed toward the tall, dark, thorn in her side.
“You couldn’t begin to imagine the history we share, Sybil.”
“Maybe not, but I can imagine all that dark, yummy goodness handcuffed to my bed while I have my way with him.”
“Handcuffs?” Anna swallowed a nervous laugh, instinctively tightening her grip on her bag. “I always wondered how you managed to keep a man in your bed.”
The dark eyes narrowed. “There hasn’t been a man born who isn’t desperate to have a taste of this body.”
“Desperate for a taste of that overused, silicone-implanted, Botox-injected body? A man could buy an inflatable doll with less plastic than you.”
“Why you…” The woman gave a hiss. An honest-to-God hiss. “Stay out of my way, Anna Randal, or you will be nothing more than an oily spot on the bottom of my Pradas.”
Anna knew if she were a better person she would warn Sybil that Conde Cezar was something other than a wealthy, gorgeous aristocrat. That he was powerful and dangerous and something that wasn’t even human.
Thankfully, even after two centuries, she was still capable of being as petty as the next woman. A smile touched her lips as she watched Sybil sashay across the room.
Cezar had felt her presence long before he’d entered the reception room. He’d known the moment she had landed at O’Hare. The awareness of her tingled and shimmered within every inch of him.
It would have been annoying as hell if it didn’t feel so damn good.
Growling low in his throat at the sensations that were directly connected to Miss Anna Randal, Cezar turned his head to glare at the approaching brunette. Not surprisingly the woman turned on her heel and headed in the opposite direction.
Tonight his attention was focused entirely on the woman standing in the corner. The way the light played over the satin honey of her hair, the flecks of gold in her hazel eyes, the silver gown that displayed way too much of the slender body.
Besides, he didn’t like fairies.
There was a faint movement from behind him and Cezar turned to find a tall, raven-haired vampire appearing from the shadows. A neat trick considering he was a six-foot-five Aztec warrior who was draped in a cloak and leather boots. Being the Anasso (the leader of all vampires) did have its benefits.
“Styx.” Cezar gave a dip of his head, not at all surprised to find that the vampire had followed him to the hotel.
Since Cezar had arrived in Chicago along with the Commission, Styx had been hovering about him like a mother hen. It was obvious the ancient leader didn’t like one of his vampires being in the control of the Oracles. He liked it even less that Cezar had refused to confess the sins that had landed him near two centuries of penance at the hands of the Commission.
“Tell me again why I am not at home in the arms of my beautiful mate?” Styx groused, completely disregarding the fact that Cezar hadn’t invited him along.
“It was your decision to call for the Oracles to travel to Chicago,” he reminded the older demon.
“Yes, to make a ruling upon Salvatore’s intrusion into Viper’s territory, not to mention kidnapping my bride. A ruling that has been postponed indefinitely. I did not realize that they intended to take command of my lair and go into hibernation once they arrived.” The fierce features hardened. Styx was still brooding on the Oracles’ insistence that he leave his dark and damp caves so they could use them for their own secretive purposes. His mate, Darcy, however, seemed resigned to the large, sweeping mansion they had moved into on the edge of Chicago. “And I most certainly did not realize they would be treating one of my brothers as their minion.”
“You do realize that while you may be lord and master of all vampires, the Oracles answer to no one?”
Styx muttered something beneath his breath. Something about Oracles and the pits of hell.
“You have never told me precisely how you ended up in their clutches.”
“It’s not a story I share with anyone.”
“Not even the vampire who once rescued you from a nest of harpies?”
Cezar gave a short laugh. “I never requested to be rescued, my lord. Indeed, I was quite happy to remain in their evil clutches. At least as long as mating season lasted.”
Styx rolled his eyes. “We are straying from the point.”
“And what is the point?”
“Tell me why we are here.” Styx glanced around the glittering throng with a hint of distaste. “As far as I can determine the guests are no more than simple humans with a few lesser demons and fey among the rabble.”
“Yes.” Cesar considered the guests with a narrowed gaze. “A surprising number of fey, wouldn’t you say?”
“They always tend to gather when there’s the scent of money in the air.”
“Perhaps.”
Without warning, Cezar felt a hand land on his shoulder, bringing his attention back to the increasingly frustrated vampire at his side. Obviously Styx was coming to the end of his patience with Cezar’s evasions.
“Cezar, I have dared the wrath of the Oracles before. I will have you strung from the rafters unless you tell me why you are here wading through this miserable collection of lust and greed.”
Cezar grimaced. For the moment Styx was merely irritated. The moment he became truly mad all sorts of bad things would happen.
The last thing he needed was a rampaging vampire scaring off his prey.
“I am charged with keeping an eye upon a potential Commission member,” he grudgingly confessed.
“Potential…” Styx stiffened. “By the gods, a new Oracle has been discovered?”
The elder vampire’s shock was understandable. Less than a dozen Oracles had been discovered in the past ten millenniums. They were the rarest, most priceless creatures to walk the earth.
“She was revealed in the prophecies nearly two hundred years ago, but the information has been kept secret among the Commission.”
“Why?”
“She is very young and has yet to come into her powers. It was decided by the Commission that they would wait to approach her until she had matured and accepted her abilities.”
“Ah, that I understand. A young lady coming into her powers is a painful business at times.” Styx rubbed his side as if he was recalling a recent wound. “A wise man learns to be on guard at all times.”
Cezar gave a lift of his brows. “I thought Darcy had been bred not to shift?”
“Shifting is only a small measure of a werewolf’s powers.”
“Only the Anasso would choose a werewolf as his mate.”
The fierce features softened. “Actually it was not so much a choice as fate. As you will eventually discover.”
“Not so long as I am in the rule of the Commission,” Cezar retorted, his cold tone warning that he wouldn’t be pressed.
Styx eyed him a long moment before giving a small nod. “So if this potential Commission member is not yet prepared to become an Oracle, why are you here?”
Instinctively Cezar glanced back at Anna. Unnecessary, of course. He was aware of her every movement, her every breath, her every heartbeat.
“Over the past few years there have been a number of spells that we believe were aimed in her direction.”
“What sort of spells?”
“The magic was fey, but the Oracles were unable to determine more than that.”
“Strange. Fey creatures rarely concern themselves with demon politics. What is their interest?”
“Who can say? For now the Commission is only concerned with keeping the woman from harm.” Cezar gave a faint shrug. “When you requested their presence in Chicago they charged me with the task of luring her here so I can offer protection.”
Styx scowled, making one human waiter faint and another bolt toward the nearest exit. “Fine, the girl is special. Why should you be the one forced to protect her?”
A shudder swept through Cezar. One he was careful to hide from the heightened senses of his companion.
“You doubt my abilities, my lord?”
“Don’t be an ass, Cezar. There is no one who has seen you in a fight that would doubt your abilities.” With the ease of two friends who had known each other for centuries, Styx glanced at the perfect line of Cezar’s tux jacket. They both knew that beneath the elegance were half a dozen daggers. “I have seen you slice your way through a pack of Ipar demons without losing a step. But there are those on the Commission who possess powers that none would dare to oppose.”
“Mine is not to question why, mine is but to do and die…”
“You will not be dying.” Styx sliced through Cezar’s mocking words.
Cezar shrugged. “Not even the Anasso can make such a claim.”
“Actually I just did.”
“You always were too noble for your own good, Styx.”
“True.”
Awareness feathered over Cezar’s skin. Anna was headed toward a side door of the reception room.
“Go home, amigo. Be with your beautiful werewolf.”
“A tempting offer, but I will not leave you here alone.”
“I appreciate your concern, Styx.” Cezar sent his master a warning glance. “But my duty now is to the Commission and they have given me orders I cannot ignore.”
A cold anger burned in Styx’s dark eyes before he gave a grudging nod.
“You will contact me if you have need?”
“Of course.”
Anna didn’t have to look at Conde Cezar to know that he was aware of her every movement. He might be speaking to the gorgeous man who looked remarkably like an Aztec chief, but her entire body shivered with the sense of his unwavering attention.
It was time to put her plan into motion.
Her hastily thrown together, fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants, stupidest-plan-ever plan.
Anna swallowed a hysterical laugh.
So, it wasn’t the best plan. It was more a click-your-heels-twice-and-pray-things-didn’t-go-to-hell sort of deal, but it was all that she had for the moment. And the alternative was allowing Conde Cezar to disappear for another two centuries, leaving her plagued with questions.
She couldn’t stand it.
Nearly reaching the alcove that led to a bank of elevators, Anna was halted by an arm suddenly encircling her waist and hauling her back against a steely male body.
“You haven’t changed a bit, querida. Still as beautiful as the night I first caught sight of you.” His fingers trailed a path of seduction along the bare line of her shoulder. “Although there is a great deal more on display.”
An explosion of sensations rocked through Anna’s body at his touch. Sensations that she hadn’t felt in a long, long time.
“You obviously haven’t changed either, Conde. You still don’t know how to keep your hands to yourself.”
“Life is barely worth living when I’m keeping my hands to myself.” The cool skin of his cheek brushed hers as he whispered in her ear. “Trust me, I know.”
Anna rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right.”
The long, slender fingers briefly tightened on her waist before he slowly turned her to meet his dark, disturbing gaze.
“It’s been a long time, Anna Randal.”
“One hundred and ninety-five years.” Her hand absently lifted to rub the skin that still tingled from his touch. “Not that I’m counting.”
The full, sensuous lips twitched. “No, of course not.”
Her chin tilted. Jackass. “Where have you been?”
“Did you miss me?”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Still a little liar,” he taunted. With a deliberate motion his gaze skimmed over her stiff body, lingering on the silver gauze draped over the swell of her breasts. “Would it make it easier if I confess that I’ve missed you? Even after one hundred and ninety-five years, I remember the precise scent of your skin, the feel of your slender body, the taste of your…”
“Blood?” she hissed, refusing to acknowledge the heat that stirred low in her stomach.
No, no, no. Not this time.
“But of course.” There wasn’t a hint of remorse on his beautiful face. “I remember that most of all. So sweet, so deliciously innocent.”
“Keep your voice down,” she commanded.
“Don’t worry.” He stepped even closer. So close that the fabric of his slacks brushed her bare legs. “The mortals can’t hear me, and the fey know better than to interfere with a vampire on the hunt.”
Anna gasped, her eyes wide. “Vampire. I knew it. I…” She pressed her hands to her heaving stomach as she glanced around the crowded room. She couldn’t forget her plan. “I want to talk to you, but not here. I have a room in the hotel.”
“Why, Miss Randal, are you inviting me to your room?” The dark eyes held a mocking amusement. “What sort of demon do you think I am?”
“I want to talk, nothing else.”
“Of course.” He smiled. That smile that made a woman’s toes curl in her spike heels.
“I mean it. I…” She cut off her words and gave a shake of her head. “Never mind. Will you come with me?”
The dark eyes narrowed. Almost as if he sensed she was attempting to lead him away from the crowd.
“I haven’t decided. You haven’t given me much incentive to leave a room filled with beautiful women who are interested in sharing a lot more than conversation.”
Her brows lifted. She wasn’t the easy mark he remembered. She was a woman—hear her roar.
Especially if he had even a random thought of ditching her for someone else.
“I doubt they’d be so interested if they knew you are hiding a monster beneath all that handsome elegance. Push me far enough and I’ll tell them.”
His fingers lightly skimmed up the length of her arms. “Half the guests are monsters themselves and the other half would never believe you.”
A shiver shook her entire body. How could a touch so cold send such heat through her blood?
“There are other vampires here?”
“One or two. The others are fey.”
She briefly recalled his mention of fey before. “Fey?”
“Fairies, imps, a few sprites.”
“This is insanity,” she breathed, shaking her head as she was forced to accept one more crazy thing in her crazy existence. “And it’s all your fault.”
“My fault?” He lifted a brow. “I didn’t create the fey and I certainly didn’t invite them to this party. For all their beauty they’re treacherous and cunning with a nasty sense of humor. Of course, their blood does have a certain sparkle to it. Like champagne.”
She pointed a finger directly at his nose. “It’s your fault that you bit me.”
“I suppose I can’t deny that.”
“Which means you’re the one responsible for screwing up my life.”
“I did nothing more than take a few sips of blood and your…”
She slapped her hand across his mouth. “Don’t you dare,” she hissed, glaring at an approaching waiter. “Dammit, I’m not going to discuss this here.”
He gave a soft chuckle as his fingers stroked over her shoulders. “You’ll do anything to get me to your room, won’t you, querida?”
Her breath lodged in her throat as she took a hasty step back. Damn him and his heart-stopping touches. “You really are a total ass.”
“It runs in the family.”
Family? Anna turned her head to regard the large, flat-out spectacular man who scowled at them from across the room. “Is he a part of your family?”
An unreadable emotion rippled over the chiseled, faintly golden features. “You could say he’s something of a father figure.”
“He doesn’t look like a father.” Anna deliberately flashed a smile toward the stranger. “In fact, he’s gorgeous. Maybe you should introduce us.”
The dark eyes narrowed, his fingers grasping her arm in a firm grip.
“Actually, we were just headed to your room, don’t you remember?” he growled close to her ear.
A faint smile touched Anna’s mouth. Ha. He didn’t like having her interested in another man. Served him right.
Her smile faded as the scent of apples filled the air.
“Anna…oh, Anna,” a saccharine voice cooed.
“Crap,” she muttered, watching Sybil bear down upon them with the force of a locomotive.
Cezar wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “A friend of yours?”
“Hardly. Sybil Taylor has been a pain in the freaking neck for the past five years. I can’t turn around without stumbling over her.”
Cezar stiffened, studying her with a strange curiosity. “Really? What sort of business do you have with a fairy?”
“A…what? No.” Anna shook her head. “Sybil’s a lawyer. A bottom-feeder, I’ll grant you, but…” Her words were cut off as the Conde hauled her through the alcove and with a wave of his hand opened the elevator doors. Anna might have marveled at having an elevator when she needed one if she hadn’t been struggling to stay on her feet as she was pulled into the cubical (that was as large as her L.A. apartment) and the doors were smoothly sliding shut. “Freaking hell. There’s no need to drag me around like a sack of potatoes, Conde.”
“I think we’re past formality, querida. You can call me Cezar.”
“Cezar.” She frowned, pushing the button to her floor. “Don’t you have a first name?”
“No.”
“That’s weird.”
“Not for my people.” The elevator opened and Cezar pulled her into the circular hallway that had doors to the private rooms on one side and an open view to the lobby twelve stories below on the other. “Your room?”
“This way.”
Anna moved down the hall and stopped in front of her door. She already had her cardkey in the slot when she stilled, abruptly struck by another night she attempted to best Conde Cezar.
The night her entire life had changed…
London, 1814
Anna gave a small scream as she was jerked into the dark bedchamber and the door slammed behind her.
“Do you seek something, querida?” A soft voice drifted on the night air. An accented voice that sent a strange shiver over her skin. “Or is it someone?”
“Conde Cezar?”
“Yes, it is I.”
Anna stumbled back into the wall, cursing her damnable luck. How the devil had she managed to muck up something so simple as keeping track of her cousin?
Not only did she not know where Morgana had gone, but she had managed to get caught by the one man who disturbed her in a manner she could not entirely comprehend.
“You…you frightened me. I did not realize anyone was here.”
“No?” A candle blazed to life, revealing the dark, impossibly handsome gentleman as he moved to stand directly before her. “Then you did not deliberately follow me here from the ballroom?”
A flush stained her cheeks, as much from his proximity as from embarrassment. Despite nearing her six-and-twentieth birthday she had yet to have a gentleman pay her attention. And certainly none at such proximity.
It was…
Terrifyingly wonderful.
She sternly jerked her thoughts from such dangerous matters. “Of course not. I…I was searching for a maid to help mend a tear in my hem.”
“So you are a liar as well as a sneak.” Without warning he planted his hands on the wall, one on each side of her head, effectively trapping her. “Hardly attractive qualities in a young maiden. Tis no wonder you find yourself alone in dark corners while the other ladies have their pleasure in the arms of handsome suitors.”
She sucked in a sharp breath, wishing she had not when her senses became clouded by his sandalwood scent.
“How dare you?”
He chuckled softly and then brazenly lowered his head to brush his cheek over hers. “Quite easily.”
Dear heaven above. Anna shuddered as her entire body reacted to his touch. What was happening to her? Why did her lower stomach feel as if it were filled with butterflies? And why was her heart lurching against her ribs as if it wanted to leave her chest entirely?
“I am no liar.”
His lips touched a place just below her ear. “Then admit that you followed me.”
Something that might have been a whimper escaped her lips before she gathered what remained of her shattered composure.
“Fine. I followed you.”
He continued to nuzzle at her throat, almost as if he was tasting of her.
“Why?”
Anna struggled to think. “Because my aunt charged me to keep an eye upon my cousin, and when I noticed you slipping from the ballroom just moments after she claimed to be in need of the withdrawing room, I feared that the two of you had arranged a meeting.” Her lids slid downward as he discovered a particularly sensitive spot. Then, realizing his hands had left the wall to tug at the ribbons on the back of her gown, she forced herself to stiffen in protest. “And for your information, I remain in the dark corners because that is what is expected of poor relations.”
“Ah, so the mouse has teeth,” he mocked, giving her a light nip.
Anna gripped her skirts. It was that or grip the man who was tormenting her with those tiny, relentless kisses.
“I am no mouse.”
“No, you are quite right.” He pulled back to study her flushed countenance, his fingers tugging at the bodice of her gown to reveal the tight corset beneath. “You, querida, are far more a shrew.”
Anna was oblivious to the insult. Hardly surprising. She was alone in a bedchamber with a strange man, half naked, and while her mind was telling her to be terrified, her body was shivering as if she were wracked with fever.
For the first time in her life she was being seduced by a master. And she was helpless against the rising tide of passion.
“It is obvious that Morgana is not here,” she husked. “I must return to the ballroom.”
“You fear that your absence might be noted? That you might have rescued your cousin’s reputation only to sacrifice your own?”
“There is no one to notice if I am missing or not.”
Something dark and powerful stirred in the dark ey. . .
The ballroom was a startling blaze of color. In the flickering candlelight the satin-and-silk-draped maidens twirled in the arms of dashing gentlemen, the brilliant flare of their jewels making a rainbow of shimmering fireworks that was reflected in the mirrors that were set in the walls.
The elegant pageantry was near breathtaking, but it was not the passing spectacle that caught and held the attention of the numerous guests.
That honor belonged solely to Conde Cezar.
With the amused arrogance that belonged solely to the aristocracy, he moved through the crowd, needing only a lift of his slender hand to have them parting like the Red Sea to clear him a path, or a glance from his smoldering black eyes to send the ladies (and a few gentlemen) into a fluttering frenzy of excitement.
Much to her annoyance, Miss Anna Randal did her own share of fluttering as she caught sight of that faintly golden, exquisitely chiseled profile. Stupid, really, since gentlemen such as the Conde would never lower themselves to take notice of a poor, insignificant maiden who spent her evenings in one dark corner or another.
Such gentlemen did, however, take notice of beautiful, enticing young maidens who would boldly encourage the most hardened reprobate.
Which was the only reason that Anna forced herself to follow in the wake of his lean, elegant form as he left the ballroom and made his way up the sweeping staircase. Being a poor relation meant that she was forced to take on whatever unpleasant task happened to crop up, and on this evening, her unpleasant task included keeping a close eye upon her cousin Morgana, who was clearly fascinated by gentlemen such as the dangerous Conde Cezar.
A fascination that might very well end in scandal for the entire family.
Hurrying to keep the slender male form in sight, Anna impatiently hiked up the cheap muslin of her gown. As she had expected he turned at the top of the stairs and made his way down the corridor that led to the private chambers. Such a rake would never attend something as tedious as a ball without having a nefarious assignation arranged beforehand.
All she need do was ensure that Morgana was not the beneficiary of that nefarious part and Anna could return to her dark corner in the ballroom and watch the other maidens enjoy their evening.
Grimacing at the thought, Anna paused as her quarry slipped through a door and disappeared.
Damnation. Now what? Although she had seen nothing of Morgana, that was no assurance that she was not already hidden in the room awaiting the Conde’s arrival.
Cursing her vain, self-centered cousin, who considered nothing beyond her own pleasures, Anna moved forward and carefully pushed open the heavy door. She would just take a quick peek and then…
A scream was wrenched from her throat as slender fingers grasped her wrist in a cold, brutal grip, jerking her into the dark room and slamming the door behind her.
The reception room of the hotel on Michigan Avenue was a blaze of color. In the light of the chandelier Chicago’s movers and shakers strutted about like peacocks, occasionally glancing toward the massive fountain in the center of the room where a handful of Hollywood B-list stars were posing for photographs with the guests, for an obscene fee that supposedly went to some charity or another.
The similarity to another evening was not lost on Anna as she once again hovered in a dark corner watching Conde Cezar move arrogantly through the room.
Of course, that other evening had been nearly two hundred years ago. And while she hadn’t physically aged a day (which she couldn’t deny saved a butt-load on plastic surgery and gym memberships), she wasn’t that shy, spineless maiden who had to beg for a few crumbs from her aunt’s table. That girl had died the night Conde Cezar had taken her hand and hauled her into a dark bedchamber.
And good riddance to her.
Her life might be all kinds of weird, but Anna had discovered she could take care of herself. In fact, she did a damn fine job of it. She would never go back to being that timid girl who wore shabby muslin gowns (not to mention the corset-from-hell).
That didn’t, however, mean she had forgotten that fateful night.
Or Conde Cezar.
He had some explaining to do. Explaining on an epic scale.
Which was the only reason she had traveled to Chicago from her current home in Los Angeles.
Absently sipping the champagne that had been forced into her hand by one of the bare-chested waiters, Anna studied the man who had haunted her dreams.
When she had read in the paper that the Conde would be traveling from Spain to attend this charity event she had known that there was always the possibility the man would be a relative of the Conde she had known in London. The aristocracy was obsessed with sticking their offspring with their own name. As if it weren’t enough they had to share DNA.
One glance was enough to guarantee it was no relative.
Mother Nature was too fickle to make such an exact duplicate of those lean, golden features, the dark, smoldering eyes, the to-die-for body…
And that hair.
As black as sin, it fell in a smooth river to his shoulders. Tonight he had pulled back the top layer in a gold clasp, leaving the bottom to brush the expensive fabric of his tux.
If there was a woman in the room who wasn’t imagining running her fingers through that glossy mane, then Anna would eat her silver-beaded bag. Conde Cezar had only to step into a room for the estrogen to charge into hyperdrive.
A fact that was earning him more than a few I-wish-looks-could-kill glares from the Hollywood pretty boys by the fountain.
Anna muttered a curse beneath her breath. She was allowing herself to be distracted.
Okay, the man looked like some conquering conquistador. And those dark eyes held a sultry heat that could melt steel at a hundred paces. But she had already paid the price for being blinded by the luscious dark beauty.
It wasn’t happening again.
Busily convincing herself that the tingles in the pit of her stomach were nothing more than expensive champagne bubbles, Anna stiffened as the unmistakable scent of apples filled the air.
Before she ever turned she knew who it would be. The only question was…why?
“Well, well. If it isn’t Anna the Good Samaritan,” Sybil Taylor drawled, her sweet smile edged with spite. “And at one of those charity events you claim are nothing more than an opportunity for the A-listers to preen for the paparazzi. I knew that holier-than-thou attitude was nothing more than a sham.”
Anna didn’t gag, but it was a near thing.
Despite the fact that both women lived in L.A. and they were both lawyers, they couldn’t have been more opposite.
Sybil was a tall, curvaceous brunette with pale skin and large brown eyes. Anna on the other hand barely skimmed the five-foot mark and had brown hair and hazel eyes. Sybil was a corporate lawyer who possessed the morals of a…well, actually she didn’t possess the morals of anything. She had no morals. Anna, on the other hand, worked at a free law clinic that battled corporate greed on a daily basis.
“Obviously I should have studied the guest list a bit more carefully,” Anna retorted, caught off guard, but not entirely surprised by the sight of the woman. Sybil Taylor possessed a talent for rubbing elbows with the rich and famous, wherever they might be.
“Oh, I would say that you studied the guest list as closely as every other woman in the room.” Sybil deliberately glanced across the room to where the Conde Cezar toyed with a heavy gold signet ring on his little finger. “Who is he?”
For a heartbeat, Anna battled the urge to slap that pale, perfect face. Almost as if she resented the woman’s interest in the Conde.
Stupid, Anna.
Stupid and dangerous.
“Conde Cezar,” she muttered.
Sybil licked her lips that were too full to be real. Of course, there wasn’t much about Sybil Taylor that was real.
“Euro trash or the real deal?” the woman demanded.
Anna shrugged. “As far as I know, the title is real enough.”
“He is…edible.” Sybil ran her hands down the little black dress that made a valiant effort to cover her considerable curves. “Married?”
“I haven’t a clue.”
“Hmmmm. Gucci tux, Rolex watch, Italian leather shoes.” She tapped a manicured nail against too-perfect teeth. “Gay?”
Anna had to remind her heart to beat. “Most definitely not.”
“Ah…I smell a history between the two of you. Do tell.”
Against her will Anna’s gaze strayed toward the tall, dark, thorn in her side.
“You couldn’t begin to imagine the history we share, Sybil.”
“Maybe not, but I can imagine all that dark, yummy goodness handcuffed to my bed while I have my way with him.”
“Handcuffs?” Anna swallowed a nervous laugh, instinctively tightening her grip on her bag. “I always wondered how you managed to keep a man in your bed.”
The dark eyes narrowed. “There hasn’t been a man born who isn’t desperate to have a taste of this body.”
“Desperate for a taste of that overused, silicone-implanted, Botox-injected body? A man could buy an inflatable doll with less plastic than you.”
“Why you…” The woman gave a hiss. An honest-to-God hiss. “Stay out of my way, Anna Randal, or you will be nothing more than an oily spot on the bottom of my Pradas.”
Anna knew if she were a better person she would warn Sybil that Conde Cezar was something other than a wealthy, gorgeous aristocrat. That he was powerful and dangerous and something that wasn’t even human.
Thankfully, even after two centuries, she was still capable of being as petty as the next woman. A smile touched her lips as she watched Sybil sashay across the room.
Cezar had felt her presence long before he’d entered the reception room. He’d known the moment she had landed at O’Hare. The awareness of her tingled and shimmered within every inch of him.
It would have been annoying as hell if it didn’t feel so damn good.
Growling low in his throat at the sensations that were directly connected to Miss Anna Randal, Cezar turned his head to glare at the approaching brunette. Not surprisingly the woman turned on her heel and headed in the opposite direction.
Tonight his attention was focused entirely on the woman standing in the corner. The way the light played over the satin honey of her hair, the flecks of gold in her hazel eyes, the silver gown that displayed way too much of the slender body.
Besides, he didn’t like fairies.
There was a faint movement from behind him and Cezar turned to find a tall, raven-haired vampire appearing from the shadows. A neat trick considering he was a six-foot-five Aztec warrior who was draped in a cloak and leather boots. Being the Anasso (the leader of all vampires) did have its benefits.
“Styx.” Cezar gave a dip of his head, not at all surprised to find that the vampire had followed him to the hotel.
Since Cezar had arrived in Chicago along with the Commission, Styx had been hovering about him like a mother hen. It was obvious the ancient leader didn’t like one of his vampires being in the control of the Oracles. He liked it even less that Cezar had refused to confess the sins that had landed him near two centuries of penance at the hands of the Commission.
“Tell me again why I am not at home in the arms of my beautiful mate?” Styx groused, completely disregarding the fact that Cezar hadn’t invited him along.
“It was your decision to call for the Oracles to travel to Chicago,” he reminded the older demon.
“Yes, to make a ruling upon Salvatore’s intrusion into Viper’s territory, not to mention kidnapping my bride. A ruling that has been postponed indefinitely. I did not realize that they intended to take command of my lair and go into hibernation once they arrived.” The fierce features hardened. Styx was still brooding on the Oracles’ insistence that he leave his dark and damp caves so they could use them for their own secretive purposes. His mate, Darcy, however, seemed resigned to the large, sweeping mansion they had moved into on the edge of Chicago. “And I most certainly did not realize they would be treating one of my brothers as their minion.”
“You do realize that while you may be lord and master of all vampires, the Oracles answer to no one?”
Styx muttered something beneath his breath. Something about Oracles and the pits of hell.
“You have never told me precisely how you ended up in their clutches.”
“It’s not a story I share with anyone.”
“Not even the vampire who once rescued you from a nest of harpies?”
Cezar gave a short laugh. “I never requested to be rescued, my lord. Indeed, I was quite happy to remain in their evil clutches. At least as long as mating season lasted.”
Styx rolled his eyes. “We are straying from the point.”
“And what is the point?”
“Tell me why we are here.” Styx glanced around the glittering throng with a hint of distaste. “As far as I can determine the guests are no more than simple humans with a few lesser demons and fey among the rabble.”
“Yes.” Cesar considered the guests with a narrowed gaze. “A surprising number of fey, wouldn’t you say?”
“They always tend to gather when there’s the scent of money in the air.”
“Perhaps.”
Without warning, Cezar felt a hand land on his shoulder, bringing his attention back to the increasingly frustrated vampire at his side. Obviously Styx was coming to the end of his patience with Cezar’s evasions.
“Cezar, I have dared the wrath of the Oracles before. I will have you strung from the rafters unless you tell me why you are here wading through this miserable collection of lust and greed.”
Cezar grimaced. For the moment Styx was merely irritated. The moment he became truly mad all sorts of bad things would happen.
The last thing he needed was a rampaging vampire scaring off his prey.
“I am charged with keeping an eye upon a potential Commission member,” he grudgingly confessed.
“Potential…” Styx stiffened. “By the gods, a new Oracle has been discovered?”
The elder vampire’s shock was understandable. Less than a dozen Oracles had been discovered in the past ten millenniums. They were the rarest, most priceless creatures to walk the earth.
“She was revealed in the prophecies nearly two hundred years ago, but the information has been kept secret among the Commission.”
“Why?”
“She is very young and has yet to come into her powers. It was decided by the Commission that they would wait to approach her until she had matured and accepted her abilities.”
“Ah, that I understand. A young lady coming into her powers is a painful business at times.” Styx rubbed his side as if he was recalling a recent wound. “A wise man learns to be on guard at all times.”
Cezar gave a lift of his brows. “I thought Darcy had been bred not to shift?”
“Shifting is only a small measure of a werewolf’s powers.”
“Only the Anasso would choose a werewolf as his mate.”
The fierce features softened. “Actually it was not so much a choice as fate. As you will eventually discover.”
“Not so long as I am in the rule of the Commission,” Cezar retorted, his cold tone warning that he wouldn’t be pressed.
Styx eyed him a long moment before giving a small nod. “So if this potential Commission member is not yet prepared to become an Oracle, why are you here?”
Instinctively Cezar glanced back at Anna. Unnecessary, of course. He was aware of her every movement, her every breath, her every heartbeat.
“Over the past few years there have been a number of spells that we believe were aimed in her direction.”
“What sort of spells?”
“The magic was fey, but the Oracles were unable to determine more than that.”
“Strange. Fey creatures rarely concern themselves with demon politics. What is their interest?”
“Who can say? For now the Commission is only concerned with keeping the woman from harm.” Cezar gave a faint shrug. “When you requested their presence in Chicago they charged me with the task of luring her here so I can offer protection.”
Styx scowled, making one human waiter faint and another bolt toward the nearest exit. “Fine, the girl is special. Why should you be the one forced to protect her?”
A shudder swept through Cezar. One he was careful to hide from the heightened senses of his companion.
“You doubt my abilities, my lord?”
“Don’t be an ass, Cezar. There is no one who has seen you in a fight that would doubt your abilities.” With the ease of two friends who had known each other for centuries, Styx glanced at the perfect line of Cezar’s tux jacket. They both knew that beneath the elegance were half a dozen daggers. “I have seen you slice your way through a pack of Ipar demons without losing a step. But there are those on the Commission who possess powers that none would dare to oppose.”
“Mine is not to question why, mine is but to do and die…”
“You will not be dying.” Styx sliced through Cezar’s mocking words.
Cezar shrugged. “Not even the Anasso can make such a claim.”
“Actually I just did.”
“You always were too noble for your own good, Styx.”
“True.”
Awareness feathered over Cezar’s skin. Anna was headed toward a side door of the reception room.
“Go home, amigo. Be with your beautiful werewolf.”
“A tempting offer, but I will not leave you here alone.”
“I appreciate your concern, Styx.” Cezar sent his master a warning glance. “But my duty now is to the Commission and they have given me orders I cannot ignore.”
A cold anger burned in Styx’s dark eyes before he gave a grudging nod.
“You will contact me if you have need?”
“Of course.”
Anna didn’t have to look at Conde Cezar to know that he was aware of her every movement. He might be speaking to the gorgeous man who looked remarkably like an Aztec chief, but her entire body shivered with the sense of his unwavering attention.
It was time to put her plan into motion.
Her hastily thrown together, fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants, stupidest-plan-ever plan.
Anna swallowed a hysterical laugh.
So, it wasn’t the best plan. It was more a click-your-heels-twice-and-pray-things-didn’t-go-to-hell sort of deal, but it was all that she had for the moment. And the alternative was allowing Conde Cezar to disappear for another two centuries, leaving her plagued with questions.
She couldn’t stand it.
Nearly reaching the alcove that led to a bank of elevators, Anna was halted by an arm suddenly encircling her waist and hauling her back against a steely male body.
“You haven’t changed a bit, querida. Still as beautiful as the night I first caught sight of you.” His fingers trailed a path of seduction along the bare line of her shoulder. “Although there is a great deal more on display.”
An explosion of sensations rocked through Anna’s body at his touch. Sensations that she hadn’t felt in a long, long time.
“You obviously haven’t changed either, Conde. You still don’t know how to keep your hands to yourself.”
“Life is barely worth living when I’m keeping my hands to myself.” The cool skin of his cheek brushed hers as he whispered in her ear. “Trust me, I know.”
Anna rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right.”
The long, slender fingers briefly tightened on her waist before he slowly turned her to meet his dark, disturbing gaze.
“It’s been a long time, Anna Randal.”
“One hundred and ninety-five years.” Her hand absently lifted to rub the skin that still tingled from his touch. “Not that I’m counting.”
The full, sensuous lips twitched. “No, of course not.”
Her chin tilted. Jackass. “Where have you been?”
“Did you miss me?”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Still a little liar,” he taunted. With a deliberate motion his gaze skimmed over her stiff body, lingering on the silver gauze draped over the swell of her breasts. “Would it make it easier if I confess that I’ve missed you? Even after one hundred and ninety-five years, I remember the precise scent of your skin, the feel of your slender body, the taste of your…”
“Blood?” she hissed, refusing to acknowledge the heat that stirred low in her stomach.
No, no, no. Not this time.
“But of course.” There wasn’t a hint of remorse on his beautiful face. “I remember that most of all. So sweet, so deliciously innocent.”
“Keep your voice down,” she commanded.
“Don’t worry.” He stepped even closer. So close that the fabric of his slacks brushed her bare legs. “The mortals can’t hear me, and the fey know better than to interfere with a vampire on the hunt.”
Anna gasped, her eyes wide. “Vampire. I knew it. I…” She pressed her hands to her heaving stomach as she glanced around the crowded room. She couldn’t forget her plan. “I want to talk to you, but not here. I have a room in the hotel.”
“Why, Miss Randal, are you inviting me to your room?” The dark eyes held a mocking amusement. “What sort of demon do you think I am?”
“I want to talk, nothing else.”
“Of course.” He smiled. That smile that made a woman’s toes curl in her spike heels.
“I mean it. I…” She cut off her words and gave a shake of her head. “Never mind. Will you come with me?”
The dark eyes narrowed. Almost as if he sensed she was attempting to lead him away from the crowd.
“I haven’t decided. You haven’t given me much incentive to leave a room filled with beautiful women who are interested in sharing a lot more than conversation.”
Her brows lifted. She wasn’t the easy mark he remembered. She was a woman—hear her roar.
Especially if he had even a random thought of ditching her for someone else.
“I doubt they’d be so interested if they knew you are hiding a monster beneath all that handsome elegance. Push me far enough and I’ll tell them.”
His fingers lightly skimmed up the length of her arms. “Half the guests are monsters themselves and the other half would never believe you.”
A shiver shook her entire body. How could a touch so cold send such heat through her blood?
“There are other vampires here?”
“One or two. The others are fey.”
She briefly recalled his mention of fey before. “Fey?”
“Fairies, imps, a few sprites.”
“This is insanity,” she breathed, shaking her head as she was forced to accept one more crazy thing in her crazy existence. “And it’s all your fault.”
“My fault?” He lifted a brow. “I didn’t create the fey and I certainly didn’t invite them to this party. For all their beauty they’re treacherous and cunning with a nasty sense of humor. Of course, their blood does have a certain sparkle to it. Like champagne.”
She pointed a finger directly at his nose. “It’s your fault that you bit me.”
“I suppose I can’t deny that.”
“Which means you’re the one responsible for screwing up my life.”
“I did nothing more than take a few sips of blood and your…”
She slapped her hand across his mouth. “Don’t you dare,” she hissed, glaring at an approaching waiter. “Dammit, I’m not going to discuss this here.”
He gave a soft chuckle as his fingers stroked over her shoulders. “You’ll do anything to get me to your room, won’t you, querida?”
Her breath lodged in her throat as she took a hasty step back. Damn him and his heart-stopping touches. “You really are a total ass.”
“It runs in the family.”
Family? Anna turned her head to regard the large, flat-out spectacular man who scowled at them from across the room. “Is he a part of your family?”
An unreadable emotion rippled over the chiseled, faintly golden features. “You could say he’s something of a father figure.”
“He doesn’t look like a father.” Anna deliberately flashed a smile toward the stranger. “In fact, he’s gorgeous. Maybe you should introduce us.”
The dark eyes narrowed, his fingers grasping her arm in a firm grip.
“Actually, we were just headed to your room, don’t you remember?” he growled close to her ear.
A faint smile touched Anna’s mouth. Ha. He didn’t like having her interested in another man. Served him right.
Her smile faded as the scent of apples filled the air.
“Anna…oh, Anna,” a saccharine voice cooed.
“Crap,” she muttered, watching Sybil bear down upon them with the force of a locomotive.
Cezar wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “A friend of yours?”
“Hardly. Sybil Taylor has been a pain in the freaking neck for the past five years. I can’t turn around without stumbling over her.”
Cezar stiffened, studying her with a strange curiosity. “Really? What sort of business do you have with a fairy?”
“A…what? No.” Anna shook her head. “Sybil’s a lawyer. A bottom-feeder, I’ll grant you, but…” Her words were cut off as the Conde hauled her through the alcove and with a wave of his hand opened the elevator doors. Anna might have marveled at having an elevator when she needed one if she hadn’t been struggling to stay on her feet as she was pulled into the cubical (that was as large as her L.A. apartment) and the doors were smoothly sliding shut. “Freaking hell. There’s no need to drag me around like a sack of potatoes, Conde.”
“I think we’re past formality, querida. You can call me Cezar.”
“Cezar.” She frowned, pushing the button to her floor. “Don’t you have a first name?”
“No.”
“That’s weird.”
“Not for my people.” The elevator opened and Cezar pulled her into the circular hallway that had doors to the private rooms on one side and an open view to the lobby twelve stories below on the other. “Your room?”
“This way.”
Anna moved down the hall and stopped in front of her door. She already had her cardkey in the slot when she stilled, abruptly struck by another night she attempted to best Conde Cezar.
The night her entire life had changed…
London, 1814
Anna gave a small scream as she was jerked into the dark bedchamber and the door slammed behind her.
“Do you seek something, querida?” A soft voice drifted on the night air. An accented voice that sent a strange shiver over her skin. “Or is it someone?”
“Conde Cezar?”
“Yes, it is I.”
Anna stumbled back into the wall, cursing her damnable luck. How the devil had she managed to muck up something so simple as keeping track of her cousin?
Not only did she not know where Morgana had gone, but she had managed to get caught by the one man who disturbed her in a manner she could not entirely comprehend.
“You…you frightened me. I did not realize anyone was here.”
“No?” A candle blazed to life, revealing the dark, impossibly handsome gentleman as he moved to stand directly before her. “Then you did not deliberately follow me here from the ballroom?”
A flush stained her cheeks, as much from his proximity as from embarrassment. Despite nearing her six-and-twentieth birthday she had yet to have a gentleman pay her attention. And certainly none at such proximity.
It was…
Terrifyingly wonderful.
She sternly jerked her thoughts from such dangerous matters. “Of course not. I…I was searching for a maid to help mend a tear in my hem.”
“So you are a liar as well as a sneak.” Without warning he planted his hands on the wall, one on each side of her head, effectively trapping her. “Hardly attractive qualities in a young maiden. Tis no wonder you find yourself alone in dark corners while the other ladies have their pleasure in the arms of handsome suitors.”
She sucked in a sharp breath, wishing she had not when her senses became clouded by his sandalwood scent.
“How dare you?”
He chuckled softly and then brazenly lowered his head to brush his cheek over hers. “Quite easily.”
Dear heaven above. Anna shuddered as her entire body reacted to his touch. What was happening to her? Why did her lower stomach feel as if it were filled with butterflies? And why was her heart lurching against her ribs as if it wanted to leave her chest entirely?
“I am no liar.”
His lips touched a place just below her ear. “Then admit that you followed me.”
Something that might have been a whimper escaped her lips before she gathered what remained of her shattered composure.
“Fine. I followed you.”
He continued to nuzzle at her throat, almost as if he was tasting of her.
“Why?”
Anna struggled to think. “Because my aunt charged me to keep an eye upon my cousin, and when I noticed you slipping from the ballroom just moments after she claimed to be in need of the withdrawing room, I feared that the two of you had arranged a meeting.” Her lids slid downward as he discovered a particularly sensitive spot. Then, realizing his hands had left the wall to tug at the ribbons on the back of her gown, she forced herself to stiffen in protest. “And for your information, I remain in the dark corners because that is what is expected of poor relations.”
“Ah, so the mouse has teeth,” he mocked, giving her a light nip.
Anna gripped her skirts. It was that or grip the man who was tormenting her with those tiny, relentless kisses.
“I am no mouse.”
“No, you are quite right.” He pulled back to study her flushed countenance, his fingers tugging at the bodice of her gown to reveal the tight corset beneath. “You, querida, are far more a shrew.”
Anna was oblivious to the insult. Hardly surprising. She was alone in a bedchamber with a strange man, half naked, and while her mind was telling her to be terrified, her body was shivering as if she were wracked with fever.
For the first time in her life she was being seduced by a master. And she was helpless against the rising tide of passion.
“It is obvious that Morgana is not here,” she husked. “I must return to the ballroom.”
“You fear that your absence might be noted? That you might have rescued your cousin’s reputation only to sacrifice your own?”
“There is no one to notice if I am missing or not.”
Something dark and powerful stirred in the dark ey. . .
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