Heads turned his way, including the vampire’s. In less than a second, the creature realized he was between two enemies.
Using the distraction, Ashe lunged with a ruler she held like a rapier. The vampire spun, snarling. The ruler caught him in the side, poking the heavy cloth of the coat but little else. Reynard heard splintering wood.
Reynard leaped forward, vaulting over a table full of books.
The vamp snarled, grabbing the young woman around the neck and dragging her to his side. She squealed like a trapped rabbit, high and desperate, curling in on herself as much as she could. She wasn’t a fighter. The perfect human shield.
Reynard was just steps away. How could he get his own body between the human and the vampire? A guardsman could survive a lot.
He never had a chance to figure it out.
Grim-faced, the old lady hoisted a heavy book in both hands. “This is a library, you oaf!” she snapped, and thumped the vampire on the back of the head.
Ashe yelled, “Mrs. F., no!”
The vampire flung out a clawed hand, grabbing the thick purple fuzz of the old woman’s coat. Ashe spun on her heel, slamming her other foot into the vamp’s forehead in a sideways kick.
He let go of his hostages and recoiled, his attention now on Ashe. “Are you going to come quietly, or do I have to force you?”
The girl sprawled on her stomach, too frightened to move. Reynard hauled her up by the armpits and shoved her toward the door. “Go! Go!”
He pushed the old woman and Gina after her. “Now!”
Civilians. He’d forgotten how helpless ordinary humans could be. In the Castle, everyone knew enough to run at the first whiff of danger.
The vampire sprang. Ashe sidestepped, but the vampire dragged her down, pinning her beneath him.
The old woman had the right idea. Reynard grabbed a square metal object off the counter and used the heavy block to club the vampire over the head.
The vamp twisted, grabbed Reynard’s left wrist, and sank in his teeth. Fang scraped bone and tendon, shearing away flesh. Reynard still had the heavy block in his right hand. The pain brought a flood of rage. He smashed the block down again.
“Reynard!” Ashe gasped from beneath the vamp. “Get this thing off me!”
The vampire’s scalp was bleeding, but he clung on, teeth sunk in Reynard’s flesh.
Furious, Reynard smashed again and again, a haze of anger clouding his vision. The fangs loosened. Reynard ripped his arm away, leaving skin behind. He grabbed the vamp by his bloody hair and levered him off Ashe.
Arms now free, Ashe reared up and drove the broken ruler into his heart, then slammed it home with the palm of her hand.
The vampire went limp. Reynard shoved the body aside. Suddenly, the object he was holding seemed enormously heavy. He dumped it back onto the counter.
Ashe was still on the floor, leaning on her elbows. She started to laugh.
“What?”
“You checked him out, all right. That’s the demagnetizer.”
“The what?”
She shook her head. “Not important. Shit, I thought you were going to bash him to pulp. Did he bite you?”
Reynard held up his torn arm. He could feel the venom, cold as ice, speeding through his veins. In ordinary humans, it produced an addictive, orgasmic state of bliss. He just felt pain. It hardly seemed fair. “I’m immune to their bite. One of the benefits of my occupation.”
Ashe raised her eyebrows. “Lucky, I guess.”
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
“No, I’m fine. He wanted me for a present to his king.”
Her eyes were a pure green, so bright they reminded him of sun through a cathedral window. Staring into them, he had the same sense of awe.
He held out his good hand, remembering his manners. She took it, letting him pull her to her feet. Through their clasped palms, he could feel her strength, her elasticity of muscle and joint as she moved. The venom from the bite was turning from ice to heat, spreading a glow like good brandy.
She was looking at his tight shirt.
He wanted to kiss her. He felt a little foxed, like he had been drinking too much of that brandy. Oh, well, so he wasn’t completely immune to venom. Or maybe being outside the Castle weakened his resistance. Or maybe he just didn’t want to be oblivious to the venom’s pleasure anymore. He’d had enough of playing the saint.
“You know,” he said with what he hoped was a charming smile, “while we’ve already agreed that I need your help, you seem to be having a few difficulties here.”
He pulled off the sunglasses, trying to ignore the stabbing pain of the light.
Ashe looked suspicious, giving a feline cast to those remarkable eyes. “What do you mean?”
“I think you need my help as much as I need yours. I should be your partner while I’m here. We work very well together.”
Before she could answer, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into him. A risky move, if she objected. Instead, she went perfectly still. Her body leaned into his, thigh to thigh, hip to hip. Her breath was on his face, coming in short, shallow gusts. She was startled, but not fighting back.
“There’s a vampire rotting on the floor,” she said with disgust.
“They always do that when we’re around, don’t they?” He grasped a wisp of her hair and let it slither between his fingers. It fell like straight, smooth silk. It was the color of ripe birch leaves when they fell, as gold as if it were made of distilled autumn light.
Oh, God, she’s so enticing.
Then, remarkably, he felt her lips on his, soft but demanding. Ashe kissed with frank hunger, hiding nothing. Because she didn’t hesitate, he couldn’t. The instinct to match her, to best her, strength for strength, was too powerful.
He teased one lip, then the other, searching out her tongue with his. She tasted of woman, warm and earthy.
Reynard felt as if he were crumbling from the inside out, as if soon he would turn to dust, just like the vampire. It had been so hard to hold himself together over the centuries, the notion of sensual surrender felt like suicide. Like flying. Like peace.
No discipline could possibly survive this. This is heaven. No wonder vampire venom is addictive.
Ashe clasped his face, holding him as if she were afraid to miss a single drop as she drank at his mouth. His hands were on her ribs, working their way down her lean waist to the female flare of her hips. He brushed the bare skin peeking out below her shirt. It was hot, velvety, yielding. He slid his palm onto that satin skin. He caressed her, spanning the small of her back with his hand. She gave a moan that vibrated through him like a cat’s purr.
A sensation grew low in his belly, a glorious, aching heat that he had long forgotten. Too bad he couldn’t resurrect the vampire just long enough to say thank-you. This is what I felt like before all the misery, the darkness, the damned curse took my life.
I must possess her.
She smelled of soap, her warmth the only perfume. He breathed in the scent, vowing never to forget it. Ashe broke away, licking her lips, tasting him. Reynard ached to grab her again. Her lips were wet, bruised from their kiss. He was fascinated by the bow of her mouth.
More.
“You are one helluva kisser.” She said it like an accusation.
“It is a mighty talent, I confess.” He grinned.
Expressions passed over her face, one after another: suspicion, admiration, outrage, bald curiosity. “Don’t ever do that again.”
