Midnight's Daughter

Chapter Four

An hour later, Louis-Cesare and I were on a plane racing the sun for California. If we didn’t win, it was no big deal. We were ensconced in a private jet, owned by the Senate, that was equipped to keep its occupants from ever experiencing unfiltered sunlight. Not to mention that the vamp sitting in one of the luxurious swivel seats across from me was perfectly able to stand the sun if need be. All the older ones could, at least for a while, although they paid for it in enormous power loss. Since I had a vested interest in keeping Louis-Cesare’s power level at high, I was glad for the tinted windows.

I wasn’t pleased at the way things were shaping up, but at least we were going to be meeting José and Kristie at the end of this jaunt across the country. The Senate had pulled some strings and gotten Kristie away from the mages, and had released José from their own holding cells. The two miscreants had been told that if they helped me complete my mission satisfactorily, all charges would be dropped. I’d talked to them by phone at one of the seedier clubs in Vegas where they were celebrating the news. I didn’t object, since they could catch a plane in an hour or two and still beat us to ’Frisco. I was just hoping their party didn’t turn out to be in lieu of a last meal. Neither of them knew what the mission was yet, and when they found out, they weren’t going to need me to tell them the odds on all of us coming back.

The sound of a phone being snapped shut caused me to look up. Narrowed blue eyes bored into mine. I raised an eyebrow in a deliberate imitation of Mircea. “Yes?”

“We need to discuss your involvement with the Fey,” Louis-Cesare announced.

“I don’t have any involvement,” I told him, getting up. There was nowhere to go, but I needed to move. My hands wanted to shake, my skin felt twitchy and my mouth was bitter with adrenaline. I was all wound up with no one to pound.

“You have not perpetrated any attacks on the Fey?”

“No.” As evidenced by the fact that I was still alive. I was enough of a predator to know when I met a greater one, and the Fey leader had shaken me more than I wanted to admit. I don’t like running, but in this case retreat had been a good idea. Of course, I didn’t intend to admit that to Louis-Cesare.

“Then why did they assault you?” His voice held the same faint sneer he’d used in Mircea’s presence, the one that indicated disapproval of everything I was and had ever been. It would have made me uncooperative even if I’d had a clue. Since I didn’t, blowing him off was easy.

“You heard their ambassador. We imagined the whole thing, or else the Black Circle fooled us with an illusion to fracture our alliance.” I hadn’t been privy to the conversation, held via cell phone once we were airborne, but with my hearing, eavesdropping was easy.

Louis-Cesare made a sound that, by anyone less elegant, would have been called a snort. “The Black Circle is the bête noire of the magical world, and so a convenient scapegoat. Those were no mages today.”

I didn’t say so, but I secretly agreed. Human magic had a very different feel. What I couldn’t understand was why either the mages or the Fey would concern themselves with me. Maybe I’d managed to piss off somebody important lately, but no one came to mind. The kind of creatures I hunt, most people are glad to see dead.

Louis-Cesare let the subject drop, but immediately switched to another equally annoying. “Lord Mircea has briefed me on what he knows of his brother’s tactics—”

“I very much doubt that.” I managed not to grimace. My nerves needed a break, not a reminder of how much trouble we were in. I prowled around, but it didn’t help. I still felt like my skin was on too tight.

I flipped through a stack of uninteresting magazines the steward had provided, wanting to feel them tear under my hands. It wouldn’t have been much of a loss—apparently the Senate doesn’t read Rolling Stone—but I carefully replaced them in their little rack. It had been a while since I was wound this tight, with everything an itch: the breath of air from the overhead vents, the smooth vibrations of the plane beneath my feet, the crackle of ice cubes as Louis-Cesare poured himself a couple fingers of something.

I needed a drink. Or a fight. Yeah, a good fight would be just the thing.

“Pardon?” Louis-Cesare looked irritated when I confiscated his glass, downing the stuff in a gulp. It was clear, with little smell or taste, but it could have etched metal.

“They have too much history to have laid it all out for you,” I gasped, “even if Mircea talked nonstop for the past few days. What you got was the Reader’s Digest condensed version.” And probably not even that—Drac wasn’t exactly a popular topic round the dinner table.

Louis-Cesare drew his brows together and found himself another glass. “I am a member of Lord Mircea’s family. I think I know enough to—”

“You’re a first-level master. Radu probably emancipated you ages ago.”

“That is irrelevant.” He was interrupted by the buzzing of a timer on the table by my elbow. He scowled at it. “We must discuss strategy. Lord Dracula will not be easy to find—”

I barely restrained a hysterical laugh. “Oh, I don’t think that will be a problem.” I walked into the plane’s roomy bathroom. The Senate obviously didn’t hold to the idea that deprivation was good for the soul, but at least the marble and gold-plated elegance was quiet. I unwrapped the towel around my head and frowned at the result. I’d had to go with a more subtle shade than I’d have liked, since the drugstore at the airport had had a limited supply of dye. It wasn’t a true purple, more of a black with aubergine highlights. Maybe it would brighten when it dried. If this was going to be my last hurrah, I wanted to go out looking good.

I reentered the main cabin after rinsing off and combing my short hair. “Would you kindly stop doing that?” Louis-Cesare’s voice was his usual measured tones, but a finger was tapping crisply on the side of his glass.

“Doing what?” I felt around my jacket pockets for one of the special joints Claire makes up for me. She’s a master herbalist and although her concoction, like alcohol, has a very limited effect on me, it does soothe my temper. I had a feeling I was going to need all the help I could get not to rip my new partner’s throat out.

“Interrupting me. I would like to be able to finish a sentence.”

“You just did.” I lit up and smiled as the familiar haze wreathed my head. Bliss. A second later, the joint was pulled from my lips and crumpled into small bits by an angry vampire.

“I need your intellect, such as it is, clear and able to concentrate!” he informed me, right before I sent him sailing down the length of the plane. A worried steward peered out from behind the curtain separating the cabin from the galley, but quickly withdrew. Louis-Cesare jumped to his feet and I lit a replacement.

“Mess with my weed again and I’ll be informing Daddy that there was an early casualty on the mission.” I saw him wince at my designation for Mircea and grinned. He was hating it that the head of the family had such a black mark against his name. Probably thought it made him look bad, too. “As I was saying, we don’t have to worry about Uncle Drac. He’ll find us soon enough.”

“Don’t call him that.” Louis-Cesare was looking less pleased by the moment.

“What? Uncle?” I shrugged. “Why not? It’s true enough.” I blew smoke in his direction and watched him struggle not to comment. “Ah yes, my dear demented relatives. Drac, the homicidal maniac, Radu, the poncy lunatic, and dear, cowardly Daddy, sending us off to manage what he doesn’t dare to face himself.” I smiled, deliberately provocative. “Just imagine, I’m actually the normal one. Sort of like that blond chick on The Munsters.”

This time, when Louis-Cesare went for me, I was expecting it. I wanted a fight—needed one after the day I’d had—and he was the only fair game around. He was also, I discovered, a fast learner. Maneuvers that had taken him by surprise before, he countered easily now, forcing me to improvise wildly. He managed to pin my arms to my sides momentarily, pulling me hard against him in the process. I hadn’t had a real sense of his power before, but now it crackled along my skin, warring with my own. I tried to knee him in a sensitive area, but he slipped a leg between mine, crushing me between his body and the bathroom door.

The fight paused. I couldn’t break his hold, but he couldn’t press his advantage without risking me slipping away. His breath was coming fast and I had a second to enjoy the thought that at least I’d winded him. Then the feel of that solid chest moving up and down against mine brought on another emotion altogether. My entire body clenched, breath coming faster, nipples hardening. I shivered, caught between fury and arousal, and stared up into a face that reflected the surprise I felt.

Louis-Cesare’s grip tightened, setting my pulse pounding in my ears. I wasn’t accustomed to encountering someone stronger than me, to being unable to break away. The fight-or-flight instinct kicked in, and despite the unexpected attraction, it took all my willpower to force myself to melt against him.

It wasn’t a big change, as we were already pretty much as close as we could get, but it felt very different. A second earlier, his body had resembled carved rock; now it was warm, muscled flesh that was very definitely male. His hold loosened, changing into something closer to an embrace. It felt achingly, shockingly good. I shifted luxuriously against the muscular thigh that spread my legs, and slid my arms out of his grasp. I ran them up his chest, and the prick of his nipples through the thin cashmere brought a sudden surge of desire, hard and piercing. I quickly moved on, twining my arms around his neck.

Some of his hair had come loose and was falling about his face in a cloud of shimmering bronze, gold and copper. I wondered briefly if it was as soft as it looked, my fingers flexing with the sudden desire to bury themselves in that shining mass and tangle in a fist… I gently pulled the clip out instead, freeing his hair to tumble around his shoulders. “Louis-Cesare,” I murmured, “I have to tell you something.”

A shaft of light from an overhead fixture illuminated the sensual blue of his eyes. The brows over them rose and a wry smile tugged at his lips. Oh, yeah, he knew exactly how gorgeous he was. “And what is that?”

I whispered my lips along his neck in a soft kiss, breathing in the warm, sweet scent of the man, the one my brain had stubbornly labeled butterscotch. His smile grew wider, softer, more genuine, forming dimples at the corners of his mouth. Curling a hand in the silken weight of his hair, I pressed still closer, until the curve of his ear was against my lips. “You’ve underestimated me again.”

I jerked down hard on my handhold, forcing his head back, and moved my other hand to the center of his chest. At the same moment, I spun, using my momentum to propel him back against the door with enough force to crack the plastic. I pressed myself against him and pulled down harder on his hair, drawing his head back so far that he was staring at the ceiling. “That’s why I always keep mine short.”

“Thank you for the tip,” he said, through gritted teeth. In a lightning movement, he hooked his foot behind my leg and jerked back, unbalancing me enough that I ended up on the floor. I couldn’t stop the fall, but I still had hold of his hair and I dragged him down with me. He landed on top, his weight causing the air in my lungs to come out in a whoosh. Before I could regain my feet, Louis-Cesare had pinned my arms and straddled my thighs, effectively immobilizing me. The few blows I managed to get in were ignored, and within seconds he had captured my wrists and forced them to my sides.

For a moment, we stared at each other, the only motion the faint vibration of the airplane’s floor beneath us. “I will not be mastered, manipulated or controlled by a… dhampir,” he finally said, his voice rough. “Regardless of her parentage!”

I bucked, but his thighs flexed, pinning me on either side. “Ditto,” I told him furiously, “except substitute ‘arrogant vamp’ in that sentiment.”

His eyes dropped and almost tangibly caressed a path across my body. “You seem well mastered to me. And if I may offer some advice, your close-combat skills require work.”

I arched up against the weight that held me down, deliberately rubbing against unmistakable evidence that his body disagreed with him. “Really? I’ve never had any complaints.”

Anger and heat flashed in his suddenly storm-colored eyes, but his response wasn’t what I’d expected. One moment to the next, something changed. It was nothing I could name, beyond a collection of gestures: one eyebrow rising in an elegant arch, a barely there, Mona Lisa tilt to his lips, a slight fall of lashes as long as a girl’s. Inconsequential details, but the air between us suddenly went electric, as quickly as if he’d thrown a switch. I was straining toward him before I knew it.

I clenched every muscle to halt the movement, while Louis-Cesare, damn him, was smiling. He slid a hand across my shoulder to my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair as he cupped the back of my head. I don’t like feeling overpowered, and when it happens, I fight back. But I wasn’t fighting now. I’d let him maneuver me into position and now I was letting him touch me. I remember thinking, Oh, no, he isn’t—even as he pulled me the rest of the way up. He dropped his other hand to my waist, settled my body firmly against his own and kissed me.

Such perfect pressure on my lips, such a skillful tongue in my mouth… it had been a long time since I’d been kissed with expertise and passion. A warm tongue expertly twined around my own, sending signals all over my body. I hadn’t paid much attention to the brief embrace in the car. I’d been stunned and freezing, and more interested in the Fey than in Louis-Cesare. He had my full attention now. A strong hand slowly moved downward until it gripped my backside, pressing me close.

I told myself not to respond, but my body wasn’t listening. My hands, no longer restrained, were pulling him closer, my fingers twisting in the decadent softness of his sweater, and I was kissing him savagely. I was furious with myself, knowing in a moment he’d push me away, but even knowing, I couldn’t seem to stop. My left leg hooked itself over him, pulling him hard against my body, and we began moving against each other, craving friction, craving intimacy.

Then he shifted, just right, and a jolt of bone-dissolving pleasure wracked my body. My breath squeezed out of my throat in a broken, shaky groan as his lips found my ear. The tip of his tongue began to trace the whorls delicately, a barely-there sensation in stark contrast to the feel of him, huge and persistent, pressed hard against me.

“Dorina.” He delicately licked along the soft curve, slowly, down to the lobe, which he caught between his teeth sharply enough to make me gasp. Then his tongue plunged inside, tracing the inner channel and leaving a slight wetness when he withdrew. His breath over the moist center made me shiver helplessly. “Neither have I.”

It took me a second to realize what he meant; then I was assailed by a vision of strangling him until he turned more purple than my hair. The maddening, adjective-inspiring, devious son of a bitch! I managed to get a foot into his stomach and pushed hard. Because of the awkward angle, he didn’t end up sailing down the aisle again, but it did send him forcefully back into his chair.

When he made no immediate attempt to get up, I righted myself and moved away a few steps on the pretense of picking up my joint from the table. I needed it to steady my nerves, and I preferred having something to look at besides him. I realized I was shaking, and it pissed me off. One kiss and my brain almost trickled out my ears! It had simply been a long time. A very long time, I realized, since I’d known the taste of another’s breath in my mouth, the feel of a nipple hardening under my tongue, the way that muscle at the top of the thigh jumps when you bite it…

I sat down and took a long drag. For once, Claire’s skillful concoction didn’t seem to be working. “That was fun,” I drawled offhandedly, amazed that my voice sounded so normal. “Of course, the last vamp who kissed me ended up with a stake through his rib cage.”

I swear, I didn’t even see him move. Before I could blink, he was bent over me, hands braced on my shoulders, forcing me back against the seat. I caught his wrists, my grip as hard as I could make it, and we paused, staring at each other.

I don’t know what I looked like, but Louis-Cesare’s pupils were dilated, wide and dark, and his lips were parted. I felt my body react to the heat in that stare, and a shiver spilled through me. It was probably just my usual perverseness kicking in—Daddy’s pet vampire was the last person I should even think about getting involved with, so of course my libido had latched on to him.

“Do not provoke me, Dorina.” The voice was harsh, but not entirely steady. So, he wasn’t as unmoved as he’d like to appear. It wasn’t much of a victory, but at the moment, I’d take what I could get.

“Don’t provoke you?” I stared at his lips. I couldn’t help it; we were close enough to kiss. Do it, my pulse was beating. Do it, do it, do it. “Why, are you really that easy?”

Louis-Cesare flinched as if I’d slapped him. His expression changed, and for a split second he actually looked stricken. No, I thought. No, no, no. I felt like I’d twisted a knife in my own gut, when I should have felt triumphant. What the hell?

Louis-Cesare abruptly pulled away. He ran a hand through his hair and stared at me while I tried to get my breathing under control. When he finally spoke, it was nothing I’d expected to hear. “Why did you say that Lord Dracula will come to us?”

I searched around the carpet by my feet and found my joint. I took another much-needed drag before answering. My pulse was pounding hard enough that I could barely hear, but Louis-Cesare already had himself back under control. His sweater had recovered from our little tussle without anything so déclassé as a wrinkle; other than for slightly mussed hair, he looked like nothing had happened.

Damn vampire.

God, he could kiss, though.

“Because three people put him away last time, but only two are family,” I managed to say evenly.

“Then, logically, he should go after—”

“I wasn’t finished. His warped idea of logic only makes sense if you know his history. Radu betrayed him half a millennium ago, leading a Turkish army to force him off his throne. He spent years in exile, plotting revenge. By the time he got back, Radu had joined the life-challenged segment of the family—he’d picked up a bad case of syphilis and Mircea brought him over because at that time there was no cure. But was that good enough for Drac? Hell no.”

I stubbed out joint number one after using it to light number two. I was going to need to score some weed in ’Frisco at the rate things were going. It wouldn’t be as good as Claire’s stuff, but hopefully she’d be back tending her highly illegal herb patch soon. “The only reason he didn’t take Radu out immediately was that an assassin in the pay of some local nobles got in a lucky shot. Unfortunately, Daddy chose to bring Drac over instead of leaving him to die. And as soon as he rose, he started in on Radu as if nothing had changed. He wasn’t strong enough to kill him, being only a baby vamp, but he didn’t let that stop him from hiring others to attempt it.”

“But that did not succeed.” Louis-Cesare looked like he had forgotten to whom he was speaking for a minute, and actually seemed to be listening.

“Nope. But Drac doesn’t get over things. Didn’t as a human, doesn’t now.”

“Yet he did give up eventually. Radu is quite well today—”

“Because of luck,” I said flatly. “I don’t know what you were told, but Drac never did stop his games. He was finally locked away because it came out that he was the one who set a mob on Radu in Paris, leading to a very nasty imprisonment for your sire that almost got him killed.”

“I know.” Something about the way he said it made me glance up sharply, but there was nothing in his expression to tell me anything. I wondered exactly when he and Radu had met, and under what circumstances. It was possible, I decided, that Louis-Cesare might know more about Uncle’s stint behind bars than I did. But I knew better than to ask.

Most of the older vamps carry a lot of baggage. Humans are amazingly adaptable, able to reinvent themselves when times change, but vamps have a harder time shrugging off the centuries. Some cope by keeping their function constant over the long haul: Mircea is the Senate’s chief diplomat, for example, and has been for some time. The world might change, but people’s basic natures don’t, so their lives have a sense of continuity. Others, like Radu, drift along in some kind of denial, trying to recapture a past in which they felt at home. And some, like Drac, never stop trying to make the world over in their image. I really didn’t care which category Louis-Cesare fit. His baggage was his problem; I had enough of my own.

“And then, when Drac escaped a little over a century ago, what do you think was the first thing he did?” I continued. “Went straight back on the hunt as if nothing had changed. We were able to catch him again by using Radu as bait.”

“No.” Louis-Cesare sounded adamant. “I will not allow my old master to be subjected to that level of risk—”

“Radu is perfectly safe, at least for the moment. He isn’t Drac’s chief target anymore. Don’t misunderstand—I’m certain he’ll get around to him in time—but his isn’t the first name on the list.”

Shrewd eyes that were, thankfully, back to blue, met mine. “And who does have that honor?”

I watched my smoke being pulled into odd patterns by the plane’s air-conditioning. “You’re looking at her.”