Chapter Four

 

Christoff leaned against the brick exterior wall of his temporary home and waited. He checked his watch for the third time in an hour and growled. What was she doing? Surely it wouldn’t take an hour to find the medallion? His position gave him a beautiful view of the beach, but he rarely took pleasure in the picturesque scene other than to gauge how long before he’d be forced back into the cottage with its block-out blinds. The tinge of pink on the horizon warned him, you’re almost out of time.

Damn that gypsy. He considered pounding on her door. Demanding she obey his commands. He shook his head. As if she’d pay attention to his threats. This woman had a mind of her own. She’d do as she liked without a care for anyone but herself. While he waited impatiently outside the locked door, she was probably formulating a plan to escape. Well, let her try. She couldn’t get far without her van and, even with a twelve-hour head start, he’d easily catch up. Besides, he loved a good chase, the perk of his job. Hunting down and punishing the guilty his only pleasure since his death.

With a shrug and a muttered curse, he took one last look at the closed door of the van and entered his temporary home, slamming the door behind him. The blinds were already closed, the room as dark as he had left it. Susie had argued that he might take pleasure in the view from his balcony, but the manicured gardens held no appeal. His only use for foliage was as camouflage. Neither did he have any use for the king-size bed which had remained untouched since he’d arrived in Azure Waters. He neither needed nor desired sleep and hadn’t since the day the vampire took away his life and that of his young wife.

He’d given up blaming himself for her death, knowing now the will and strength of a vampire to be more formidable than that of a mortal. Ingrid’s fate had been sealed from the moment the vampire arrived in their small coastal chiefdom in Denmark in 1066. The memory of his wife had begun to fade. He could barely recall her features. They’d only been married a few months when her life had been taken and he’d only known her a week before the wedding. He sprawled across the couch, his arm over his eyes as he tried to remember his young wife.

A flicker of a memory surfaced. A comely, heart shaped face with cornflower blue eyes and straw-colored hair woven into long braids. Her slender body concealed by a shapeless shift drawn at the waist by a linen apron. He imagined her soft moans of pleasure as she lay quietly beneath him and the gentleness in her speech. But the image blurred then changed into the face of the gypsy, her olive skin and dark hair in complete contrast to that of his wife. As was the color of her eyes. Eyes as dark as pitch. He shook his head, trying unsuccessfully to shake the images from his mind. As if he could. Since she stood defiantly before him in Susie’s living room, almost naked in her flimsy excuse for undergarments, he’d struggled to think of anything else. Had Susie not intervened, he’d planned to search every square inch of her body. Not for the medallion, no, the trinket was the furthest thing from his mind as he reached for her. Her arousal called to him, dared him, urged him to slip his fingers inside the damp crotch of her panties and stroke her swollen clit. Even now, his fingers itched to drive inside her, his thumb longed to massage her arousal, his eyes to watch her face contort with pleasure while she came against the palm of his hand. He imagined the weight of her breasts in his hands as he squeezed the DD orbs until she begged for mercy.

 Enough.

Springing to his feet, he adjusted the crotch of his jeans and cursed himself. For centuries, he’d prided himself on his self-control. He’d worked hard to establish a reputation for being unemotional, driven, a loner. Other vampires feared him, and he’d earned the name Enforcer for good reason. He took pride in his work, never deviating from his plan until evil had been punished. Until now. How was this gypsy, this witch able to break through his defenses? Had she placed a spell on him? Through clenched teeth, he growled a warning.

“You will give me that medallion, wench, and remove the spell you’ve cast over me or I will end your sorry life.”

****

For the longest time, she sat with her back to the door, staring at the wall safe. The vampire had made himself clear. He wanted the medallion and would stop at nothing to get it. Her instinct told her to give him the damned thing and skedaddle, but she was no fool. If he wanted the trinket so badly and was willing to go to great lengths to get it, it must be very valuable. She’d be crazy to part with it. How could she even contemplate giving away what might be her salvation? Her heart fluttered, and a strange sensation shook her body. It took a little while to recognize the feeling. It had been so long since she’d experienced it. Hope.

If this coveted prize was worth as much as Christoff had led her to believe, it may well be her ticket to a better life. A life where she wasn’t forced to use her body as the means to an end. Where she could buy a small home somewhere, maybe find a nice guy and settle down. Closing her eyes, she drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. With enough money, she could find a cure for her mother and still have all those things. If, she could lose the vampire.

No use sitting around fretting. She sprang to her feet and hurried to the wall safe where she retrieved the bag of gold trinkets and poured the contents onto the kitchen table. The charm wasn’t difficult to find amongst the others. It gave off a golden, almost ethereal light which she hadn’t noticed before. Holding her hand over the object, she gasped as heat radiated through her palm. Her thoughts wandered back to the night she first spotted the item and how it had burned her skin. She pulled her hand back and sat on the bench seat, staring at the unusual design. Strange. More like a gang tattoo than a pendant motif, the angry face of a wolf glared at her from the center of the amulet. Its bared teeth threatening from inside the first circle of pattern. The geometric design surrounding the wolf appeared to be an optical illusion. Was it an M or a W? Perhaps a W for wolf? In the outside circle, the looping ribbon seemed out of place. Evangeline screwed up her nose. Art had never been her forte, but shouldn’t the geometric design have been continued? Wouldn’t that have been more aesthetically pleasing? With a shrug, she continued to study the curious locket. Was that a full moon behind the wolf’s head?

The longer she gazed at the piece, the more her fingers itched to open it or at least trace the design with the tips of her fingers. Something about the deeply etched engraving intrigued her, tempted her. Why had the artist carved so deeply into the metal? She leaned her elbows onto the table, her face inches away from the object, but far enough to prevent a facial burn. Both sides of the locket were sealed with no sign of an opening clasp. Why commission a locket that can’t be opened? She took a butter knife from the cutlery basket on the table and flipped the piece over. Nothing. No design, no name, no artist’s signature. Nada. As she turned it around with the knife, the thickness of the piece caught her attention, making the double catches even more peculiar as it indicated something inside. Something that required half an inch of metal to contain it. What could it be? Diamonds? A priceless coin? The knife dropped from her hand. A rush of adrenaline shook her body as her mouth curled into a smile. By hell or high water, she’d open this thing and claim the prize.

****

Christoff punched numbers into his cell phone as he watched the taxi pull away.

“Palmer, I need a favor.”

Powerless to follow, his only course of action was to enlist the help of his colleague. The gypsy hadn’t packed a bag. Possibly she’d only left to purchase food, but he couldn’t take that chance. She may have the medallion with her. He had to know if his suspicion was correct. After giving the private investigator the cab license plate number, he resigned himself to a long wait.

Even with his vast police resources, it might take Palmer hours to locate the woman. Hours that gave her opportunity to leave town. Something deep inside Christoff stirred. What if he never found her. What if he never saw her again? He shook his head. Why should he even care? She meant nothing to him. He tried to convince himself that his only interest was her crimes and the medallion, but the image of her voluptuous body trickled through the carefully contrived walls protecting his sanity. She couldn’t leave. Not before he’d satisfied his primal urges. He’d seen the way she tempted men with her curves. Even as she postured, half-naked in the Palmer residence, her hooded eyes and heady musk had called to him and by god, he’d been tempted. The memory of her pouting lips sent a rush of blood to his cock as he imagined how she’d probably honed her craft. This one was no shrinking violet. She’d cheerfully drop to her knees for a price. He imagined her bow-shaped mouth encircling the tip of his cock, opening wider as she took more of his shaft into her throat. Her tongue licking, sucking the essence from his body as her other hand pumped his ball sack in exquisite rhythm to her mouth. He pictured his hands in her hair, fingers clenching close to the scalp, holding her, guiding her as he groaned his approval of her technique. He threw his head back, closing his eyes as the room began to spin. Close. So close.

He saw vibrant colors, felt his muscles tighten, heard … heavy metal music?

“What!” he screamed into the cell phone as he extracted his hand from down the front of his open trousers and carefully zipped his fly. His cock pulsed angrily against the fabric. Close, but no cigar.

“Hey. You’re the one who asked me to call if I had any information.” Terry Palmer retaliated. “Screw you, Berg. If you don’t want my help, I’ll –”

“I apologize, Palmer. You caught me at an inopportune moment.” Terry’s curse rang in his ears. Screw you. If only the call could have waited a few more minutes. He let out a long sigh, knowing the moment had been lost. “What have you discovered?”

“She didn’t leave town as you suspected. I knew she’d recognize me, so I had one of our new operatives follow her. She’s been in the public library doing some sort of research in the archives and on the internet. As far as I know, she’s still there.”

“She’s very clever,” Christoff reminded his partner, “how experienced is this new private investigator? I don’t want her to know we’re stalking her.”

“Stalking? You may stalk. We shadow.”

“Whatever. Will she suspect?”

“Well, he’s new to private investigation. He used to be a beat cop, but wanted a career change and I was able to convince David to give him a chance.”

Christoff rolled his eyes. “Your friend had better not screw up. I want this woman.”

For a moment, Palmer remained silent. Christoff immediately realized the implication.

“It’s not what you think.”

Laughter bubbled down the receiver. “Oh, not what I think? I think it’s exactly what I think. Your Freudian slip just incriminated you, Lurch.”

“I neither understand nor appreciate the Lurch reference. Nor do I agree with your insinuation.” He tugged at the collar of his shirt, grateful that his sign of weakness went unwitnessed.

“Argue all you like,” Terry teased, “You want this woman. You want her bad.”

“Just keep me informed.” Christoff pressed the “call-end” button, closing his eyes as his mouth tightened into a grimace. How could he let this happen? This woman had clawed her way into his thoughts, clouded his judgement and fired his blood. Somehow, he’d make her pay for her transgressions, after he’d satisfied his needs.

****

Evangeline dropped the pile of books onto the table and sneezed. The research section of the library seemed relatively unused and rarely dusted. Some areas had fine cobwebs strung from top to bottom. Fortunately, spiders didn’t bother her.

“Bless you,” whispered a handsome young man sitting to her left. She smiled her thank you and quickly ducked her head down to avoid the stern glare of the elderly woman beside him. Hag. To her right, she noticed an older man, around forty, dressed in a wrinkled suit that smelled of moth balls. He sat close to her. Too close. As if the camphor smell was not bad enough, his body odor and the menthol of his cigarettes turned her stomach. She used her bottom to maneuver her chair further left, making a screeching noise that echoed throughout the library. The older woman shushed her. She rewarded the woman with a middle finger salute and a sarcastic smile. The younger man blushed and stared down at his computer as the side of his mouth curled into a smile. Cute. Turning back to her pile of reading, she wondered what it would be like to be with a cute guy. A nice guy. She’d had her fill of sleazy old men gawking at her boobs while jerking themselves off. Look but don’t touch. She’d been able to keep them under control. Mostly. Occasionally, she’d have to pull out her trusty Swiss army knife and lay down the law to some overzealous customer. So far, she’d been lucky. Besides the rare boob or crotch grab she’d managed to restrain even the most ‘insistent’ clients. Not that she was untouched. She’d had her fair share of boyfriends. Lost her virginity at sixteen to a twenty-five-year-old drifter who seduced her in the woods behind her mother’s caravan. Since then, she’d been a ‘bad boy’ magnet. They wanted her for her body, she wanted them for…? Why did she always fall for the tough guys? Protection? Security? No matter. When her mother’s condition deteriorated, her priorities changed.

With a swipe of her hand, she took the top layer of dust off the cover of the first book. Wolves: The meaning behind the symbol. She flipped to the contents page, hoping to find a reference that sounded promising. No such luck. None of the ambiguous headings offered instantaneous answers. Her shoulders slumped as she realized she’d be forced to read, or at least flick through, every page of the humungous book. All three thousand, two-hundred and fifty of them. She leaned her left elbow on the table, cupped her chin in her hand and began to search.

****

“She’s still in the library?” Christoff checked his watch. “It’s been nine hours since she left.”

“I guess she hasn’t found what she’s looking for.” Terry answered. “Should I call off surveillance?”

“Give me half an hour.” Christoff told him as he collected his car keys from the foyer table. “Tell him to not let her out of his sight until I get there.”

As he rushed from the house, he paused for a moment to study the old campervan parked a few feet from the cottage. Every inch the stereotypical gypsy caravan, he couldn’t help but admire her skill. If he hadn’t already checked the registration and known that the van was only ten years old, he’d have believed it to be an heirloom. He’d lived in Romania for a time, back in the day. He’d also dealt with gypsies before and punished those who dabbled in the dark arts. Most made their living from the desperate, the gullible. Fortune tellers, crystal ball readers, frauds. Some sold charms and potions, others, their bodies. These things did not concern him. The clients got what they paid for. Peace of mind, confidence, pleasures of the flesh.

A shiver trickled down his spine, but he ignored it as he pressed the ignition of his car. There would be time for pleasure later. For now, he would have to focus all his attention on finding the woman and forcing her to hand over the medallion.

****

A loud grumble drew the annoyed attention of the old hag who, once again, made her presence known with a shush.

Evangeline ignored the woman, but found it harder to ignore her rumbling stomach. She’d left her home in a hurry to get to the library. The money in her pockets barely covered the cab fare. Fortunately, the male driver accepted a flash of cleavage in place of a tip. She checked the list she’d composed from her internet research. One more book from the archives and she could call it a night. She stole a quick glance at the young man working diligently beside her. His casual, neat clothes suggested a decent job, probably a nice, inexpensive car. His hair was cut short but stylish and he smelled a hell of a lot better than moth ball man, who seemed to have disappeared. Yep. One more book and she’d convince cutie-pie to buy her a burger and drive her home.

The fluorescent light in the archive section had dimmed since her last visit. Evangeline noticed the bulb flickering in sporadic shudders and hurried to find what she wanted before the light died altogether. No such luck. As the room plunged into darkness, she felt a hand clamp around her nose and mouth. Strong hands delved into the pockets of her dress, searching, tearing at the material in a desperate rush to find something. Money? She struggled against the attack, biting the fingers of the hand that covered her mouth when the offender’s other hand dug inside the cup of her bra. He grunted, tugged his fingers from between her teeth and pushed her to the floor. She screamed as she crawled towards the light of the main room, hoping someone would come to her aid before he found her in the darkness. A hand grabbed her by the ankle. She kicked out, her heel connecting with bone. A shin? The blow hit her right cheek, instantly closing her eye. Momentarily dazed, she found herself being dragged back into the shadows, defenseless, confused, terrified.

“What’s going on in here?”

Evangeline struggled to her feet and fumbled her way out of the room. The bright lights in the main reading room made her swollen eye weep. She covered it with her hand as she surveyed the empty room. Fear gripped her by the throat and squeezed. She’d hoped to coax the young man into buying her a meal. Now, she’d be happy with a ride home, even from the cranky old woman. Where had they all gone?

“Are you alright, Miss?” The librarian asked when Evangeline dropped her hand from her eye.

“Someone attacked me in there.” The tremor in her voice surprised her. Can’t lose it, not here.

“I didn’t see anyone,” the librarian told her with a frown. “Besides you.”

Evangeline looked past the woman and into the dark room. Her legs began to give way as she realized. “He must be still in there.”

“I’ll get you a glass of water.” the other woman suggested. Her expression looked anything but concerned.

“You don’t believe me?” Was it her own version of the boy who cried wolf? Had she told so many lies, they were no longer convincing? She pointed to her face. “Do you think I did this to myself?”

“It’s possible that, when the bulb blew, you walked into a shelf.” Her expression turned from stoic to cautionary. A sneer curled the corner of her mouth. “I assure you that our insurance company has dealt with ‘falls’ before. If you’d like me to call the police, I’d be happy to oblige. I think they’d probably want to have a word with you.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Evangeline threw back her shoulders and swallowed the lump in her throat. She knew exactly what the librarian was inferring. No-one would believe her story. As always, she would be suspected, ridiculed, even despised. They’d smirk as they listened to her story and snicker amongst themselves. Maybe not to her face, although it wouldn’t be the first time,  but they would believe she’d either brought it on herself or made up the entire story.

She grabbed her bag from the table and held it open. “Would you like to check it?”

The woman shook her head and looked away. “It’s closing time, miss.”

“That’s okay.” Evangeline told her with a shrug. “I know when I’m not welcome.”

She hurried through the building, fighting back the tears of anger, tears of shame and slammed straight into a cold, solid wall of muscle.

****

“Why the rush?”

“Look, Chris. I’ve had a bad day. Piss off and leave me alone.” She tried to skirt around him, but he wasn’t finished with her.

“Bad day? What, no one succumbed to your sexuality? You must be losing your touch.”

He expected an argument or, at the very least, a sarcastic rebuke. What he didn’t expect was a torrent of tears. The large bag in her hand dropped to the pavement and her body collapsed down with it. She held her palms to her face, sobbing as tremors shook her body. Words eluded him. Dropping down to one knee, he placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Come. I will take you back to your trailer.”

She lifted her chin, tears streaming down her face as she brushed a bothersome curl of thick black hair from her left eye and winced. “Thank you.”

He grabbed her shoulders, his blood boiling as he stared at the swollen, red eyelid. “Who has done this to you?”

One huge ebony eye stared back at him, the other almost closed shut. Her mouth formed a perfect O as she gasped, “Your eyes! They’re blood red.”

He turned his head away. Despite centuries of practice, he was yet to master the ability to hide his rage, and more recently, his arousal. Damn her bountiful curves. Without a word, he raised her to her feet and hung the oversized bag over her shoulder.

She brushed the debris from her skirt and drew in a deep breath as she straightened her shoulders. His heart skipped a beat as he studied the rise and fall of her breasts.

“Eyes up here, big boy,” she told him, her voice beginning to regain the feisty zing of confidence.

When their eyes met, he repeated his question. “Who did this to you?”

Her shoulders raised in a shrug and her mouth tightened into a straight line. “Fucked if I know. One minute I’m watching the light bulb about to blow in the archive room. The next, some low-life has one hand over my mouth and the other down my shirt.”

Christoff’s inner demon roared, but he managed to control the tone and volume of his voice as he asked, “Did he molest you?”

She shook her head, then winced, before holding her palm to her eye. “I fought back, even managed to plant a good kick to, what I suspect was his shin. That’s when the bastard punched me.”

What manner of man strikes a woman? A coward. A sorry excuse for a human man who needs to be punished. He swallowed down the anger like a bitter pill, needing to stay calm, ask more questions.

“How did you escape?”

She flipped some wayward curls behind her ears, exposing her long, smooth neck. Blood drummed in his ears making it hard to hear her answer. He asked her to repeat it.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “As I said. The librarian came to the door and called out. He must have run out a different way because she denied seeing anyone but me.”

“Surely someone in the library heard or saw something?”

“Nope. By the time I got my shit together, the library was empty.”

Empty? Where was the investigator send to follow Evangeline? His temper cooled to a slow burn. He and Terry Palmer were going to have words. Strong words.

“Listen, Chris. How about that lift? I’m feeling a bit…”

He caught her by the elbow as she swayed and buckled a little at the knees. What had that monster done to her?

“Have you other injuries? Do you need a doctor?”

With a wave of her hand, she dismissed his concerns.

“I’m just hungry I guess. I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning.”

How could he have been so selfish? He’d kept her sequestered in her mobile home and never bothered to enquire if she had adequate provisions to sustain her life. Was there nothing left of his humanity? Was he really the monster she’d accused him of being?

“Come, we shall purchase some food on the way home.” He handed her his mobile phone. “There are many fine restaurants in this area. Order whatever you wish and ask them to pack it to go. We shall pick it up on the way through.”

She took the phone from his hand, an odd expression on her face. Had she not understood his instructions? Was she unable to operate the device?

“Anything?” Her eyes sparkled with delight. “Really? I can order whatever I want? Money’s no object?”

“Come,” he cupped her elbow and led her up the path to where he’d parked his Porsche. “You order while I drive.”

****

“Want some? I told them to hold the garlic.”

She held out the half-empty pizza box as she stuffed another piece into her mouth. He shook his head, content to watch her eat. Where did she put all that food?

“Suit yourself.” Although still chewing on a chunk of mozzarella covered pepperoni and jalapeno supreme, she managed to squeeze in a couple of fries and swallow it down with a slurp of chocolate milkshake.

He looked down at his previously immaculate coffee table and sighed. Strewn across the table, he counted two cheese stained pizza boxes, two milkshake containers, an empty carton of fries and a bag of corn chips.

A huge smile spread across her face as she patted her distended belly and sighed. “Thanks, Chris. That really hit the spot.”

He studied her through knit brows. She actually enjoyed eating that garbage?

“I did make it clear you could order whatever you wanted, didn’t I?”

Crossing her arms over her belly, she dipped her chin and looked up at him with doe eyes as she waved towards the mess.

“Behold, the evidence. Food of the gods.”

He grunted his reply. “I can’t imagine a god choosing to eat this over five-star cuisine.” He sat forward in his seat. “You do realize we passed three fine restaurants on the way here. Wouldn’t you have preferred to order lobster or fillet mignon?”

“I’ve never eaten that stuff.” She took another drag on the straw of her milkshake. “Don’t even know what the last thing you said is.”

“Steak. Well prepared steak.”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve heard steak is pretty good. I do enjoy a good hamburger.”

She stared down at the unfinished food as though contemplating eating more. Her insatiable appetite amazed him and made him wonder about her sexual appetite. Was that also insatiable?

“I’m done.” She flopped back against the settee and belched. “Ah, that’s better.”

The entire scene perplexed him. Yes, the curves and hooded eyes still held allure, but she’d let down her guard. Her body language relaxed and casual. Did she no longer consider him a threat?

Standing, he began to clean up the remains of the meal. “If you’ve finished, I’ll dispose of the—”

She leapt from the couch and stilled his hands. Her touch sent a bolt of electricity through his body.

“Where I come from, what isn’t eaten for dinner is served for breakfast.”

He could hardly believe his ears. “Pizza for breakfast? Surely you jest?”

“I never joke about food.”

She took the boxes from him and cradled them in her lap as though they were her precious babies. When her pout mutated into a forced smile, he knew she was about to ask a favor.

“Do you think I could store these in your refrigerator? Mine’s been on the blink for a month now.”

“A month?” Surely the perishables need refrigeration. How could she manage? “Aren’t you concerned with food poisoning from your left-over food?”

“Left overs?” Her mouth curled on one side, but her smile never reached her eyes. “I live on a diet of crackers and tins of tuna. No refrigeration necessary.”

“That’s no way to live.” He had meant to offer counsel, but even to his own ears, his words sounded condescending. Small wonder she instantly threw up an invisible barrier between them. A divide that warned him he’d disrespected her way of life.

“Well, I have no choice.” She retaliated with fire in her dark eyes. “Some of us weren’t born with a silver spoon in our mouth.”

 He opened his mouth to speak, but reconsidered. What good would come from telling her that, he too had once lived from hand to mouth, fighting and stealing for scraps?

They remained silent for some time, an awkward standoff until she broke the stalemate.

“Hey, Chris.” She lowered her chin as she spoke in gentle tones. “Thanks. Thanks for the meal and the ride.”

He wanted to tell her how much he enjoyed watching her devour her meal or simply lean forward and lick the dribble of pizza sauce off her chin. He did neither. Big mistake.

“If you truly wished to thank me, you could save us both more drama and hand over the medallion.”

****

“You really are a piece of work!” She rose to her feet and glared down at him. “I’m impressed. You had me fooled and that doesn’t happen often. Kudos to you.” She slapped her hands together in praise, but pictured them connecting with his face. Hard. “I almost believed you were a nice guy.”

“You were wrong.”

“No shit.”

Anger bubbled up from the depths of her soul. She’d trusted him, allowed herself to believe he actually cared about her. How could she be so stupid? He’d always made his intentions clear. He wanted the medallion and the treasure inside. Any indication of more had been fabricated in her own desperate mind. It was not lust in his eyes, not for her anyway. She should have recognized the signs and guarded her heart.

“Well, it ain’t gonna happen so get over it.” With a defiant flick of her hair, she turned and headed for the front door. He caught her by the wrist and pulled her hard against his chest.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

The musk of his body overwhelmed her senses. She wanted to push him away, scream obscenities, do something. Anything. Instead, she breathed him in and concentrated on the erratic beating of his heart.

“I thought,” she whispered against his chest, “I believed vampires’ hearts didn’t beat.”

“If that were true, then why would we need blood to sustain us?”

She pushed against his body but left her palms on his broad, solid chest. “You really are strange.”

He frowned, but she could see the hint of a smile tweaking the corners of his mouth. “How so?”

“I don’t know how to explain it, but somehow I believe that you’d answer any of my questions honestly.”

“Why would you think otherwise?”

She dropped her hands and took a step back. “In my vast experience dealing with people, honesty is not a common characteristic.”

Christoff laughed, slapping his thighs. “Vast experience? How old are you anyway? Twenty-five, twenty-six?”

“I’m twenty-seven. How old are you?”

“I’ll let you do the math,” he teased. “I was born in 1036.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.” She held her palms to her cheeks and tried to work out the centuries, but math had never been her strong point. Her formal education ended the year her mother fell ill. She left school at age 12. “This may take me a while.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, but his expression showed no signs of judgement. “If it helps, I died at the age of thirty.”

“Okay, I can deal with that.” She thought for a minute. Would he really answer all her questions honestly? “Next question. Why do you want my amulet? Is it valuable?”

He narrowed his eyes, looking down at her from their six-inch height difference. His nose, impossibly straight compared to her slightly deviated septum. She fought the urge to cover her imperfections. How could her dark eyes, olive skin and unruly hair compare to his perfect complexion, ice-blue eyes and cropped, wheat blond hair? Even as she looked up into his face, she could feel the swelling closing her left eye. What a sight she must be. His answer shook her back to reality.

“It is not your amulet. You stole it from the pawn shop owner along with numerous other items. But in fairness, he got more satisfaction from the deal than you.”

Heat rushed to her face. “You … you saw?”

He nodded his answer and she glimpsed a twinkle in his eye that scorched her cheeks.

She turned her face away from his gaze. “Why is it so valuable?”

“Monetarily, it holds no value.”

She spun around. “Then why are you holding me prisoner here?”

“Because the amulet is dangerous. Surely with your unusual powers, you’ve sensed that.”

Evangeline rubbed her palm. Of course, she’d sensed the energy in the locket. She’d spent the evening staring at the unusual design and the following day researching it. But could she trust this man, this vampire?

“Cut the crap, Chris. There’s more to this locket than you’re telling me.” She dug her fingers into her hips and took a deep breath. “I’m prepared to sell you the locket, for a price.”

His answer surprised her.

“Name it.”

Well, that was easier than I thought. He must be desperate. “No, you start the ball rolling. Make me an offer and we’ll go from there.”

“Ten thousand dollars.”

“Ten thousand?” She heard the catch in her voice and silently berated herself. That was the starting offer? How high would he go?

“Sorry, sweet cheeks.” She raised her hand, palm up and motioned higher. “Keep going.”

His expression remained stoic. “Thirty thousand dollars.”

Her heart beat double-time as she tried to raise the bid. “Fifty thousand. And, a steak dinner.”

He tilted his head to one side and frowned. “You’re still hungry?”

She balled her hand into a fist and tapped it to his forehead. “Tomorrow you bring me fifty thousand cash and take me to one of those fine places you talked about. Then, I’ll give you the amulet.”

He held out his hand, which she accepted. When he refused to let go, she squared her shoulders and looked up at him with her good eye.

“Was there something else?”

“I agree to those terms, but only if you agree to my conditions.”

Her breath hitched. What did he want from her? Blood?

“What conditions?”

He pulled her in closer, his cheek against hers as he whispered into her ear. “I want the same deal as the pawn broker.”

Evangeline gasped as a wave of molten heat travelled down her navel and pooled between her legs. Her breasts felt impossibly heavy. Arousal soaked her panties.

“You want me to—”

 “Yes, min dyrebare. You will strip for me, but make no mistake, I am nothing like that loathsome degenerate. Don’t expect me to be satisfied by a glimpse of bosom. I want to see all of you. Every last inch of your flesh. Those are my conditions.”

Evangeline’s mind raced. She could do so much with that money. Good doctors for her mother. A deposit on a real home. She sideways glanced at Christoff. It would make a nice change to strip for a real man. A hot, toned, hunk of a man. Why then, did the prospect make her feel so dirty? What else did he expect for his money? She pushed her indignation to the back of her mind. Mum needs me. The pain in her heart was harder to ignore. She’d have given him her body, her heart, her soul. If only he’d treated her with some respect. Lifting her chin, she met his shameless stare and made a decision. He’d get his striptease, maybe even a lap dance if she felt inclined, but first, she’d find out what was inside that locket.

She forced a smile, thrusting out her chest as she raised herself onto her toes to position her lips close to his.

“Shall we seal our pact with a kiss?”

He edged closer, his breath on her mouth, his lips tantalizingly close, his eyes as wide as saucers. Then, he backed away.

“Tomorrow.”

She tried to decipher his expression. Was he angry? She opened her mouth to ask him and was interrupted.

“It’s nearly dawn, and I think it best you return to your own accommodation. Tomorrow I will come for you at 7:00 PM. Be ready.” He turned and headed towards his bedroom, stopping at the door to add a final warning. “Do not believe I can be swayed by your feminine wiles. You will honor our pact or there will be consequences.”