Chapter Seven

" Masaa el kheir ." I greeted him with good evening and shifted my grip so that instead of holding his hand, I clasped the statuette. He sat in the chair Fr Dominic usually claimed, while I stood to one side, my back against the wall. Heat swirled up my arm, making me shiver. "Did you feel that?"

Hugh St John glanced at me over his shoulder. "What?"

"Nothing." It had to have been my imagination. St John tightened his grasp on the thing, resisting when I tried to pull it away. "Let me guess. There's a medicine in here that you need."

Abruptly he released the statue and shifted in the chair, edging away from me. "Apologies." He stood and moved toward the door. "I'll just be going."

"Not yet." I beat him to the door. Blocked the exit with my body. Grinned at his gasp. "I've half a mind to keep you here until Fr. Dominic returns." I wouldn't, not really. I just wanted to see his reaction.

"You hold the priest in high regard?" His gaze flickered over me, his expression growing increasingly confused.

"Don't matter. He's got me here for now, and he's not going to be happy when he hears about your visit."

He grinned. It was the first time I'd seen such an expression on him. "We'll have to reach an accord then," he said. "I'll give you something you want in return for keeping my visit a secret."

"Suck my cock." Dear Lord, that was bold even by my standards .

He blinked. "Pardon?"

Now it was my turn to grin. "You heard me. Suck my cock and I won't tell the priest you were here."

Something flickered in his gaze, too fast for me to identify, but it wasn't disgust. Of that I was sure.

"Here? Now?"

I caught my lower lip between my teeth, showing off a bit of fang. "Good point. Why don't you go to your cabin and I'll meet you there? The priest usually gives me a bit of time to myself in the evening."

I was lying, but he couldn't know that.

"I…seem to be impatient." He frowned, a crease growing between his brows. "This is wrong. Unlike myself. I should stop, but…I want you. Now."

Moving with all the substance of a figure in a dream, he approached me. "What?" I whispered. Without answering, he lowered himself to his knees.

"I've not much experience." Even as he spoke, he stroked my thigh. "None, really. What spell have you cast?"

"Spell?" I echoed his word. "I'm no magician."

He rubbed his cheek against the fabric of my trousers, feeling my arse with both hands. "I detest vampires. I've spent ten years promising myself I'd stake the next one I saw."

His lips moved against my prick, teasing me through fabric. I found myself pinned against the door, unable to refuse his advances though a warning sounded in my head.

"Footsteps." I gasped the word out as he began mouthing my prick through my trousers. "Someone is coming."

He paused long enough to say, "Let them."

"Are you crazy?" I grabbed him by the arm and jerked him upright. My cock protested, but I ignored it. "Go." I stepped aside and all but shoved him against the door. "We will do this another time."

Rather than swing the door open and make his escape, he simply stood. Something was happening, and I had no idea what. All I knew was that Dr. Hugh St John could not be here when Fr. Dominic returned. I jerked the door open and pushed him out without even making sure there was no one else in the hall. He'd have to fend for himself.

Frantic, terrified the priest would discover that we'd had a visitor, I put the statuette and the collar in the case and placed it carefully under the bed in the exact spot I'd noted it before.

Only then did I go to the sitting room and collapse in a chair. What the hell just happened? Hugh St John was an attractive man; anyone with eyes would have noticed that. Still, I preferred men who gave the impression of liking me. Hugh St John definitely did not.

I was a flirt. A tease, if you asked some of my past lovers. I never stayed long with any one man and I did not cuddle.

So why did I want nothing more than to wrap this man in my arms? His brief contact with my prick had made me painfully hard, despite the situation.

Until ten minutes ago, I would have wagered he'd cut my cock off before he'd suck it.

What the hell had changed?

Jumping up, I paced the small room, tormenting myself with fantasies. Hugh St John, on his knees, sucking me down. Fr. Dominic, sensing Hugh's presence even though the man was long gone. St John, tearing open my shirt, buttons flying.

Fr. Dominic, using his magic to tear my head from my body, the penalty for my failure.

And to make the situation that much worse, I wanted nothing more than to chase Hugh St John into his room and lock the door.

I preferred the company of men; anyone who knew me would agree. I'd worked hard every day, running my mother's dress shop. Mother. Who now believed me dead. She'd been accepting of my peccadillos as long as I didn't rub my lovers in her face.

Because as hard as I'd worked during the day, I'd played harder at night. That's how I'd crossed paths with Gamal Hassan in the first place. We'd been sparring partners, then lovers, and while I'd enjoyed his company, he'd seen me as little more than a way to pay off a debt.

Just another note of bitterness for me to swallow.

Fr. Dominic and his lackeys would return soon. I gave the room a once-over. Everything seemed to be in place, and I'd put the leather case exactly where I'd seen it last. Unless Fr. Dominic held clairvoyance in addition to his other skills, he'd never know we'd had a visitor.

There was no way he could know.

No way…

D

What in the hell? I stormed into my room and slammed the door, rubbing at my lips to remove the betrayal with friction.

I'd offered to suck off a vampire . Me. Hugh St John. I'd gone to my knees at the first invitation, and if he hadn't stopped me, I'd have undone his falls and sucked his prick.

Horror wracked me, raising goosebumps on my spine, even as my own cock swelled at the memory.

The thing wasn't alive. How could I have offered it pleasure?

I pulled the chair out from the desk and sat, though my knees were bouncing so hard I stood up again just to make them stop. When I shut my eyes, all I could see was his face—those high cheekbones and delicate lashes, the smile that held a hint of mockery.

Yes, the vampire was objectively beautiful, something I'd not really noticed before.

Objectively beautiful and beautifully dead.

I sat again, covering my face with my hands. I would banish his smiling image if it took reliving the events of ten years ago to do it.

Ten years ago.

Randall and I, both barely out of university. He'd studied the classics, while I'd studied medicine. He had a bad habit of breaking into houses—for the thrill of it, mainly. Sometimes I joined him, and while he always promised to share the fruits of our labor, he rarely did. We never stole enough to make splitting the prize worthwhile.

For our last job, we enlisted help. We'd targeted a peer, a duke, and planned to sneak into his house whilst a party was going on. This time Randall did have a target; he wanted to search the duke's private office, though he didn't offer much detail when I asked why.

We had a friend on the duke's staff, Jeremy Thorn. He helped us by making sure there was a rear door we could enter, and by causing a small commotion— Ahhh, I've been burned —at the appointed time to distract the rest of the staff while we snuck in.

We made it to the study. I kept watch at the door while Randall searched the duke's desk, but we'd not been there long when our friend stumbled down the hall toward us. "Randall, stop."

Jeremy's eyes were glazed, his expression slack, and between one step and the next, I saw why.

A man walked behind him, a stranger who held Jeremy by the scruff of his neck. There was blood on our friend's shirt, just a few scattered drops. He and his escort stopped some six feet from me.

The memory came over me in a terrible mix of fear and confusion. Jeremy had a wound on his throat, a ragged, concave circle. Something had taken a bite out of his neck. "Randall?" I whispered his name. "Come here. Now."

"I'll just be another…" Randall appeared at my elbow. "Hey, Thorn. Are you okay?"

"He is not," the man with him said. "In fact, I expect him to die. Take care that you don't mutilate him in any way. He'll be rising soon."

He laughed, a maniacal sound, and flung our friend toward us. Jeremy fell, landing hard on the floor despite my efforts at breaking his fall. He was, in fact, dead. Randall and I brought him with us when we slipped out of the mansion, and then, in an act so barbarous I can still barely live with it, we cut off his head and removed the heart from his body.

No friend of ours was going to rise as an undead creature.

My skin felt hot, as if the shame from those events ten years ago had been reawakened by my actions tonight. If I'd stopped Randall from his wild plan, our friend would still be alive.

And if I'd stopped myself from groping the vampire tonight, I might still have had an ounce of self-respect.

I couldn't stay in the room a moment longer. I let myself out, carefully closing the door though I really wanted to slam it again. Rather than go deeper into the ship's belly, I climbed the stairs to the upper level and went out on deck. A few people were scattered about, taking in the air. Some lay on lounge chairs, while others leaned against the railing. A circle of crewmen sat near the prow, sharing from a pot of something savory and passing around a bottle.

I found a spot away from my fellow passengers, and, resting my elbows on the railing, looked out over the water. The sea was calm, the moon cast a stripe of silver, and a light breeze lifted small wavelets that flickered white over the surface of the ocean. The engine rumbled as large turbines churned the water, forcing us along at a brisk pace.

Here, alone, I simply breathed in the salty air. As the breeze cooled my skin, my sense of shame faded. I was not to blame for Jeremy's death, and tonight probably had more to do with my long history of denial than with any desire for Aharon Davies. He might be pretty to look at, but he was a vampire.

I did not dally with vampires.