“It’s Cezar,” she whispered, seeming hardly to be able to form the words.
But before she could continue, Narcise clamped her lips closed, her eyes focused on something behind him—which could only be the man in question. Giordan felt and scented her brother’s presence, that heavy patchouli and cedar aroma, tinged with something else he found inexplicably unappealing.
He felt the weight of the man’s attention on them, and then it lifted and moved on.
“But then, mademoiselle, perhaps we ought to commence with the seduction. I am certain you know precisely how I feel about it.” He managed to make his words sound light, despite the dark overhang of the situation. “Will you put on a good performance for your brother? And should I pretend to resist, or should I drag you eagerly from this chamber as I’ve longed to do these last weeks?”
The column of her throat, slender and elegant and so very bite-able, convulsed as she swallowed hard.What is it, Narcise?
“Be reluctant,” she whispered as if she could hardly form the words. “I believe he is testing you—or us—somehow.”
That chill came back, ice in his veins again. Then Giordan pushed it away. The man was inhishome. He could do nothing.
Yet…he’d been in Dimitri’s place, that night in Vienna, and somehow Moldavi had caused the building to burn to the ground and resulted in the death of Dimitri’s mistress.
“Very well,” he told her, turning slightly away. “I will play the reluctant target. For now. But take note, Narcise…once you are in my bed, my chamber, you’ll never leave it. I won’t let you go back with him.”
He’d delivered these last words in an undertone for her ears only, but she stiffened and curled her fingers into the lapel of his coat. “No,” she said. “I cannot stay. I won’t stay, Giordan.”
He stilled. Her refusal, coupled with her first ever use of his intimate name, told him much. Yet his emotion that overrode it all was that of anger. “Do you think I won’t be able to protect you from him, in my own home?”
“It’s not me. I don’t fear for me any longer. It’s…there are children. Hostages.”
So that was it. “I’ll kill him then. Now.” He turned away, already considering where the closest stake or sword would be, but she caught his arm. Her fingers felt frail and he could easily have shaken her grip away.
Her words were low and desperate. “If he doesn’t return tonight, the children are to be given to the servants to be fed on. They’ll tear them apart. There’s one in the carriage, waiting now with Belial. It’s a girl-child, a young one—no more than eight. His orders are that if he doesn’t return to them by midnight, Belial can do what he wishes.” She seemed out of breath, exhausted by this long speech. “There is no way. Not tonight.”
Giordan was aware of a numbness creeping over him. “There must be a way. There is a way, Narcise. You have no idea what I’m capable of,” he said, thinking back to those days on the streets when sticking a blade in someone who crossed him was as common as sleeping in the gutters.
“Please,” she said, and she stumbled into him a bit. Her eyes were dark blue pools. “I can’t risk it. Not tonight. It must be when he isn’t expecting it, when he hasn’t planned it all.”
Then she smiled, but it was tight, and it worried him. Yet, when she pressed her body against his, the warmth from her presence, her heavy, erotic scent, the feel of her curves, all set his skin to tingling and his gums to swelling. She murmured as she looked up at him with hooded eyes, “I am certain we’ll both enjoy what’s to come. Can we not leave it at that? Just for tonight?”
“Very well,” he said, yet unwilling to put the possibility of her freedom from his mind. But if she was willing and able to return with Cezar to save the children, how could he argue with her? Giordan wasn’t certain he’d be able to make the same choice, but he must respect hers.
He slid an arm around her slender waist, pulling her close to him so that her breasts pressed against his chest. Surely she could feel his cock filling out his breeches. He was already imagining pulling the pins from her heavy hair, peeling the lace from her curves, sinking his teeth into the soft side of her belly while his fingers found her swollen quim. His breathing became rough and unsteady, his fangs long and hard.
“May I succumb to your wiles now, then, Narcise? Have I been reluctant enough?”
“Yes, I believe I’ve done my duty and convinced you,” she said, and for the first time, he saw a spark of heat in her eyes.
“Will you allow me to touch you tonight,cher?” his voice dropped low. “Are you willing? Tell me the truth, Narcise.”
“I am more than willing.” Yet…something still lurked in her eyes. Some hesitance.
Confused and angry with whatever it was, he nevertheless offered her his arm. “Shall we? I’m certain you’d prefer all of this to happen somewhere a bit more private.”
When she hardly moved, he looked down at her again. Her eyes had that dull look, her lips were slightly parted. She was either deathly afraid or in great—hell.
“Where the devil is it?” he demanded, taking her shoulders and turning her to face him. Fury at his stupidity, his blindness rushed over him. “Where’s the feather? You’re wearing one, aren’t you?”
She nodded slightly, relief swimming in her eyes. “Around my neck. But not…here.” Her eyes focused on him, and now he recognized the pain behind the emptiness. “He can’t see….”
“Yes, here,” he said in a low, furious voice. But he turned so that his body blocked the view of anyone watching.
Cezar would die. Slowly. Giordan would ensure that it took days. Perhaps weeks.
He found the slender golden chain at her throat in seconds, and began to pull it from her gown. It was very long, and the single feather that hung from it had been slipped down the back of her gown, between the lace and her skin. Which meant it had been burning into her for at least an hour.
