Be Not Like (Vampire Assassin League Book 33) Page 3
Shock and surprise were impossible to hide. And he tried. “Holy...Water?”
“You heard me. You may wish to ponder that for a bit while I’m gone.”
A gonging sound permeated the area next, rendering any reply unintelligible. His visitor turned and started walking away, ignoring Paul Henry as he spoke to someone else. “LizBeth? You still there, dear?”
“Yes, Sir.” The nurse peeked around the corner as she answered.
“A plane has arrived. Assign a room to the new arrival. Give directions here. Then I suggest you retire to your chambers. And stay there.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Wait!”
The word burst from Paul Henry’s lips. The fellow actually stopped.
“Yes?”
“You can’t just leave me here!”
“Of course I can.”
“Not staked out for your enjoyment like this!”
The shrouded figure gave another burst of laughter. He didn’t even turn around as he answered. “Oh. Paul Henry. I like you. A lot. That being the case, I will answer. You are not staked out for my enjoyment, dear boy. Oh, no.”
Paul Henry tensed. He didn’t even know why.
“You are staked out...for hers.”
CHAPTER FOUR
There wasn’t any need of pondering anything. Paul Henry had a very good idea what had transpired. The knowledge came from the covert side of his family’s business. As heir apparent, he knew all about it. For centuries now his family had hunted down and exterminated the foulest creatures in existence.
Vampires.
Paul Henry didn’t need an education on vampirism. He’d accepted the reality of them years ago. He knew the extent of their power. Their abilities. Prowess. He also knew about partially-turned vampires. It had happened to some of the Hunters employed by his family. They likened themselves to a Special Forces branch. According to them, being half-turned wasn’t a disastrous turn of events. There were compensations. One of which was superior strength.
Paul Henry lifted his arms and looked over the cuff and chains that dangled from either wrist. It was an affirmation. He could move a lot of weight without effort. A half-turned vampire also had enhanced senses. Vision. Hearing. Taste. He didn’t need to go over any of that. He had them. Vigor and vitality were other benefits. A half-turned individual healed quickly and easily...especially if they consumed raw red meat. Bloody-raw.
Oh.
Great.
Blood was probably what the nurse had given him to drink. He should shudder in revulsion at the recollection. Instead, he started salivating as if thirsty again. A couple of swift swallows halted the affliction. Paul Henry closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. Held it until his lungs started complaining. Eased the air out. He used the time to allow a sliver of cognitive dissonance to intrude. If something went against your knowledge and experience, despite any proof to the contrary, the mind had a way of dealing with it – disregard. Redirect. Ignore.
He opened his eyes again. Looked over the gray span of stone.
Cognitive dissonance, my arse.
There was a small measure of hope left. He might be dreaming. Paul Henry moved his left arm, lifting it to the extent of the chain. An instant jolt of pain smacked through his wrist and into his forearm. He dropped the limb with a defeated motion.
Well.
That settled it. He wasn’t dreaming. He was in some sort of cave. He was being held prisoner. It didn’t seem possible, but he’d somehow been taken out of his plane, stripped down, incarcerated, and half-turned...all without his knowledge or one crumb of consent.
Fuck.
Paul Henry stiffened. He wasn’t the type to profane, even in his thoughts. He didn’t enjoin resentment or anger. He hadn’t known those two emotions could congeal into a burning mass that pounded through his belly with every heartbeat.
He knew it now.
A sliver of light appeared somewhere around the edge of dark stone, growing larger as it neared.
Oh bugger.
He’d almost forgotten there was a woman coming for him! For what? Torment? Torture? With his luck she’d be an Amazon. A behemoth. One of those wrestler-sized women. The kind that could crack a man in half with one arm. And he was staked out like a sacrificial lamb for her.
Paul Henry raised himself to pull at his arm and leg shackles. Flickers of pain raced through his limbs. Sparks lanced into his chest. Fire seized his pecs and abs. Thighs. All of it fed the ball of fury in his innards. Chains rattled as he pulled at them. Acid-laced water flicked about. He grunted. Snarled. And then he stopped mid-struggle as an absolute goddess walked into view.
She held a lantern above her head. The light revealed all kinds of details. The woman was young. Slender. Tall. Possessed elbow-grazing charcoal-dark hair. Her brows appeared to be an exact color match. Perhaps even her eyes. The shadows of lashes dusting her cheeks were just as dark, and spectacularly lengthy. Paul Henry’s jaw dropped.
“Oh, my,” she addressed him.
“Uh...”
He didn’t know what to say. Do. Think. He couldn’t even get his mouth to close. Every hint of anger evaporated, as if he’d just received a weakening blow. He sagged back onto the pallet, but his muscles stayed locked. Which was just ridiculous. He wasn’t actually preening...
Was he?
She reached up to hook her lantern on an outcropping of the rock. Then she approached. Paul Henry watched with bated breath. She wore a figure-skimming sheath, crafted from a heavy silk vivid orange fabric. Ankle-length. It didn’t disguise anything. She had feminine curves to match her looks. His mouth went dry. His heart pounded. And then his groin stirred. Without one iota of permission or intent. He couldn’t believe this. Any of it.
She arrived at his side. Stood looking down at him. Her eyes weren’t black. They had a warm brown tone. And they were almond-shaped. Her skin was a light shade, incredibly pristine and clear. Her lips were full and really red. Her mouth drew a second glance. Third. But it was her eyes that beckoned. They were incredibly magnetic. Deep. Mysterious. He found himself gazing into her eyes, while a distinct buzzing sound started up in the area.
Wow.
He’d rarely seen such a beauty. She was incredible. And then it hit him. She was what he’d been warned of for years. Alarm bells went off somewhere in his skull. Paul Henry dragged his gaze away. Moved it to the lantern light over her shoulder. He licked his lips. Swallowed. Used the time to get control of this unbidden hormonal rush.
“Hi there,” she said.
“Um.” Bugger. What a time to get tongue-tied.
“What’s your name?”
“Uh.” Damn it, Paul Henry! Vampiric women were known for their beauty. Magnetism. And a nearly combustible amount of sensual skill. A tremor scored him. His thighs tightened. His dick twinged.
Oh. Bad news.
He really needed to get his act together here. And quickly. He glanced at her, then away. Cleared his throat next. Spoke. And was surprised that his voice actually worked. “I was going to ask you the same question.”
“Were you?”
He looked back at her. Focused on her chin. “Yeah.”
She smiled. She had spectacularly white teeth. And not a fang in sight.
“What did you do?”
“When?” he responded.
She laughed. His muscles went taut. His heart caught. And all kinds of reaction went through his lower belly. All of them bad.
“You’re British, aren’t you?”
A sigh escaped him. “Let me guess. The accent?”
“Don’t knock it, it’s cute.”
“Cute?”
She nodded. “So cute, I’d let you talk to me all night. Among...other things.”
Oh shit.
Her voice had dropped suggestively. He had zero trouble interpreting it. Neither did his nether region. He was lucky she didn’t look there. Not that it mattered. She seemed to know exactly what reaction to expect from him. What was he thinking? Sh
e probably got it from every male in her vicinity.
“Are you going to answer me?” she prompted.
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You had to have done something. Akron doesn’t punish for no reason.”
“Akron...Profit?” His voice warbled. He controlled it instantly.
“You know him?”
No.
Oh, no.
Akron Profit was the vampire leader. He was old. So ancient that nobody knew much about him, but Paul Henry had been told things. One of these was a physical description. Akron Profit was like Leap Castle’s Elemental – a shapeless stinking mass that oozed evil. He wasn’t supposed to be able to appear as a man. Nor was he anything other than evil. He wouldn’t do anything like rescue the heir-apparent of his enemy. Not unless he had an ulterior motive. Was that why Paul Henry had been taken, teleported, and was now held?
To use him?
How?
He frowned. “Look. I don’t know what happened. I took a flight. I ended up here.”
“A flight?”
Paul Henry nodded.
“Where were you going?”
“Kuala Lumpur.” And then he added to it as if to clarify, “Malaysia.”
This was not remotely like him. A Beethan never offered information this easily. The buzzing had ceased, but it occurred to him that she’d still managed to mesmerize him. Was that it? Well. If she had done something like that, he wasn’t willing for it to continue. He was breaking it.
“Do you go there often?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Business.”
He gave her more instant answers without the smallest qualm. Damn it. Paul Henry took a deep breath, closed his eyes. Sent his mind searching, envisioned a beach. Blue skies. Hot sun. Palm fronds. Warm sand. Wet waves. The scene came into sharp focus. His breathing modulated. He waited to a count of two hundred. Reopened his eyes. Glanced toward her again before settling his gaze on her nose this time. And in all that time, she hadn’t moved anything on her face or body.
“That sounds boring,” she told him. “What kind of business are you in?”
“Family.”
Another quick answer? Oh. She was good. He needed to be better.
“You have family in Malaysia? Not Britain?”
This was dangerous territory. Paul Henry needed his mental acuity now more than ever. He tightened his jaw. “Look, I’m just a college student.”
“You look too old to be a college boy.”
Boy? He bristled as if offended. Despite his hold on emotion, the affront sounded in his voice. “I am an upper-classman.”
“Is that supposed to mean something?”
“It means I’m going for my doctorate.”
“In what field?”
“Theoretical Physics.”
“You don’t look like a smart guy to me.”
“Thank you,” Paul Henry replied, using what he hoped was a bland tone.
“Maybe if you wore glasses? Did you lose them?”
“I don’t need spectacles.”
“Spectacles? Oh my. How...British. I think you look like a sports star. Do you play soccer?”
His brows rose. Any inkling of insult drained. He moved his gaze to her eyes. She really had incredible eyes. Deep. Mysterious. And so fascinating. They pulled at him, and he responded. Sensations washed over him. It was akin to being massaged with warmed scented oil. He could look into her eyes for hours...
Damn it.
Paul Henry yanked his attention back to her nose. The buzzing sound dissipated again. He hadn’t even heard it before now. He shook his head. Wow. She was good.
“No? How about swimming then?”
Too bad there wasn’t a blemish on her face. He’d stare at it. Instead, he settled on the tip of her nose again. “What? Oh. No. I row.”
She pulled back a fraction. Looked confused. “Like...an umiak?”
“A what?”
“Sealskin boat.”
“Oh. No. I row a sculling boat. I’m on a team. It’s an Olympic sport. One we Brits happen to excel at.”
She laughed and his heart skipped a beat. His eyes went wide as he felt it happen. The feeling of warmth rushed back with a vengeance. Everywhere. His thighs got a dose of near magical arousal this time. His buttocks joined in. His groin...
Oh.
This sensation was nice.
No, Paul Henry. Bad. It was bad. Horrendously so. How could something so nice be bad?
“Oh. My. Sounds like I have hit a nerve.”
“No. But I also train in martial arts. And—”
Argh.
What was he doing? He might as well give her a complete bio.
“Are you a Hunter?”
Her voice carried such venom, it shocked. Paul Henry froze. Imminent danger appeared to be an excellent deterrent to all kinds of things. A magical level of sexual interest was just one of them. He cleared his throat. Ordered his brain to function and his mouth to work. “What kind of hunter are you inferring? I mean, I’ve bagged game. Hunted game birds, shot and—.”
“Vampire Hunter! I hate them! They are detestable creatures that kill without conscience! If you were one—?”
She didn’t need to elaborate. He got the message.
“I’m just a poor college student, remember?” It was technically true. He wasn’t a Hunter. He was slated to be their leader, but even that was sometime in his future.
Or, it had been.
“Poor? And yet you fly to Malaysia more than once? I don’t know what that costs, but surely it ranks above the definition of poor.”
She was really quick-witted, and he was losing focus. And if he didn’t get his brain in gear, he might lose a lot more. “That was an expression. College student and poor go together like...well, like fish and chips.”
Fish and chips? That’s the best he could come up with? Paul Henry groaned. She smiled but that could mean anything.
“So. Are you going to tell me or not?”
“I don’t know why I’m here. It’s the truth. I swear.”
“I meant your name.”
“Oh. That.” His mind whirled with options. He needed one he’d answer to. “It’s Henry.”
Her nose wrinkled up. “That’s not a very sexy name.”
“Excuse me?”
“Well. You are a very sexy man.”
Her tone sent signals right to his groin, where he gave her an instant nonverbal answer yet again. He tightened his frame against it. Fought to keep his mind on her words. He needed to keep his story straight. Think on anything but—.
“You need a sexier name than Henry. Can I call you Hank?”
“Hank?” He hoped she was joking. He’d never answer to that.
“Don’t you like it?”
“It’s...very, um...American.”
“You lost the Revolutionary War, Hank. You Brits need to get over it already.”
“It’s not that. I mean, I’ve never been called Hank. I may not answer.”
“Oh. I think you will.”
That was probably accurate. With her around, he’d most likely answer to anything.
She moved an inch closer, her perfect breasts trapped in the confines of her garment, drawing a glance. “My name is Eska,” she told him.
“Eska.” He ran the word over his tongue. It fit her.
“You like it? I was named after a river.”
He couldn’t resist. “Oh, I don’t know...it doesn’t sound especially sexy. May I call you Tess?”
“No, you may not.”
Women! He stuck a tongue into his cheek, pushing it out. He knew better than to say anything aloud, however.
“Do you want my help or not, Hank?”
“With what?”
“Freeing you.”
Freeing him? His heart raced. Thoughts spun. Information snapped into place. She’d arrived in some sort of plane. He could probably pilot it.
“You’d do that?”
She nodded.
“How?”
“A vampire can break any old chain, and—!”
She’d reached out, grabbed the cuffs at his wrists, and then jumped back so swiftly, her back smacked into the rock beside her lantern. He heard a sizzling sound that quickly dissipated, smelled an acrid smell, and was watching as she swiped her hands along her dress, darkening the silk with stains. Her eyes were wide. Shocked.
“Oh. I’m sorry. I should have warned you. The liquid is Holy Water,” he explained.
“I have to go,” she replied.
“What?” The word burst from him.
“I’ll be right back.”
“What?!” This time he yelled it.
“Don’t move.”
“No! Wait! Ah!”
She slid around the corner. Despite what he knew would happen, Paul Henry moved, yanking the chains taut as he bellowed his displeasure. And then the pain started up. It felt like his flesh was being eaten before he flung himself back onto the pallet and shook in place. The rattling sound of iron links filled the air. His every breath accompanied it. Each one was loud. Harsh. He glared at the gray stone with what was probably impotent fury.
It was useless. He’d never felt so powerless. Nor as foolish. With a woman? A vampire woman? He howled the frustration aloud even as he realized the futility.
Anger hadn’t helped his situation.
Apparently, nothing did.
CHAPTER FIVE
Eska raced through the halls, found the chamber she’d been given, slammed through the door. She shoved it closed with her back against it and crossed her arms about her torso. Her eyes were still wide with shock. Her breaths were quick, coming with a rapidity that stunned. Her heart hammered. Her pulse sang. Her entire body shook, making the door rattle on its hinges. Her knees trembled a second before they collapsed, sending her to the stone floor. And that’s when she started laughing. Because she felt all of it.
Oh, sweetness!
She’d found him!
Him!
Her mate!
And he was beautiful! Not sinfully dark, like she’d always favored. Her mate was a blond. With the bluest eyes imaginable. She didn’t even think she liked blondes, but that gorgeous specimen in the dungeon sent any prior opinion into oblivion. She had to talk to Akron. Find out details. Who he was. Why he was here. She crawled to an ornately carved table. Pulled her purse down. Her fingers trembled as she located a cell phone, slid the cover opened. Pressed the power button. Held her breath as she looked at the dark screen. Two words slowly got illuminated.