They started walking through the streets at a brisk pace, and as they did so, the crowd stretched out into a long line. Their guide stopped at a home, perched on a fence, and began a dramatic tale of love and murder within. He wove the story brilliantly, putting in enough truth mixed with melodrama to make it credible. Savannah’s blue eyes were shining. As the crowd moved forward to follow the swirling cape of the fast-paced host, she bent down to fiddle with the strap of her shoe. Gregori felt her slip away from him and turned to wait for her.
Savannah smiled at him, that sexy, mysterious smile that hardened his body and tripped little bombs off in his head. Her hair slid over her shoulder in a fall of cascading silk. The sight of her literally took his breath away. By the time she fixed her shoe, the two society members were right beside her. Savannah straightened, and that infuriating smile curved her soft mouth. “Where are you two from?” Her voice was beautiful and pure, a blend of seduction and music. “I’m Savannah Dubrinsky. Isn’t this fun?”
They felt her impact immediately, the mesmerizing snare. Gregori heard their hearts slam unexpectedly, then begin to race. Her blue eyes caught and held their gazes, trapping them in the silver-star centers. “Randall Smith,” the shorter of the two answered eagerly. “I moved here several months ago from Florida. This is John Perkins. He’s originally from Florida also.”
“Did you come here for Mardi Gras and just stay for the fun?” Savannah inquired.
What the hell do you think you are doing?Mon Dieu, mafemme, you are enough to drive me crazy. I forbid this.
Savannah fell into step between the two men easily, her enormous eyes wide with interest. Gregori felt the beast lifting its head, roaring for release. The red haze spread, and hunger beat at him.
“We came here to help out a friend of ours,” Randall admitted. He began rubbing his suddenly pounding temples. His head was hurting and felt as if it might shatter.
Savannah leaned in closer, her eyes holding his captive. The crowd had once more stopped while their host began his tale of ghosts and unexplained mysteries. His voice cast a spell over the group, adding to the appeal of the story, to the haunting illusion of the night. Randall felt as if he were drowning in her eyes, as if she had trapped him forever in the illuminating starlight. He wanted to give her anything, everything. His head said no, but his wildly beating heart and raging soul needed to confess his every thought to her.
“We belong to a secret society,” he whispered softly, his voice so low that only the two Carpathians could possibly hear. He didn’t want his partner to know he was betraying the members. There was a curious buzzing in his head, like a swarm of bees. He broke out in a sweat.
Savannah touched him lightly, a brushing of fingers across his arm. Curiously, she brought a refreshing breeze with that touch, one that cleared his head for a moment so that the oppressive pain lightened. Her smile sent a shiver of excitement through him, of such desire and need that he wanted to fall at her feet. “How exciting. Is it dangerous?” She tilted her head, an innocent seductress luring him closer and closer.
Randall was aware of the smallness of her waist, the fullness of her breasts, the sway of her hips. He had never wanted anything more in his life, and her enormous eyes were focused only on him, saw only him. He swallowed hard. “Very dangerous. We hunt vampires. The real thing, not this nonsense.”
Her perfect mouth formed a small O. She had beautiful lips, rose-petal soft, moist, pouty, kissable lips.
Savannah, stop now. He is dangerous, whether you think so or not. His mind stinks of the vampire.
I might find out where Morrison is.
I said no.Gregori reached out and shackled her wrist, yanking her from between the two men to the protection of his body. I will not use you to find the undead. He will trace the path back to you. I have no choice but to destroy this one.
Her face paled visibly, long lashes sweeping down to conceal her eyes. Why not heal him as you did the captain?
I cannot heal what is essentially evil.His thumb feathered gently back and forth across the pulse beating so strongly in her inner wrist. He is a servant of the vampire, and you know it, Savannah. You knew it the moment you touched his mind. What you can find and trace, so can the vampire. And he is more adept than you. I cannot allow such a risk to you.
Randall crowded close, wrapped in the thrall of mental compulsion. He perceived the hand on Savannah’s wrist as evil, a coiled snake dragging her away from her rightful place at his side.
Gregori focused on the partner, John Perkins. The man’s mind was stronger than Randall Smith’s. The vampire’s hold on him was much blacker, as if Perkins had been in close contact for a longer period of time. He was staring at Savannah suspiciously. Gregori could easily pick out the dark lust, the jealousy that she chose Randall for her attention instead of him. Perkins was twisted inside, the vampire’s compulsion working on his already depraved mind.
Morrison knew how to choose his servants. The vicious, ugly nature of malicious men, those without friends or relatives, those hungry for violence and depravity. He sent them among the curious, those like Gary, people with quick, intelligent minds open to the paranormal. People isolated by their very intelligence and open-mindedness. The vampire was able to use those intelligent men by luring them with false hopes, false promises, using them for research and the legwork needed for his legions of true servants.
Gregori sighed softly. He was what he was. Guilt could not be a part of his existence. He was responsible for the continuation of his race and for Savannah’s safety. He thrust into John Perkins’s mind, past the vampire’s control, and planted the seeds of destruction. His hand on Savannah’s wrist tightened, and he quickened their pace to put distance between the society members and his lifemate.
Once again their guide stopped them all and was weaving a tale of debauchery, and murder. The crowd was silent, captivated by the interesting history of the city. Gregori inserted Savannah into the throng, his larger frame protecting her from the impending violence.
Out on the street, John Perkins stared malevolently at Randall Smith. “You always have to ruin everything, Smith. You always have to be the one to talk to Morrison. I’m closest to him, but you just have to prove you’re the big cheese.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Randall demanded, his gaze frantically searching the crowd for Savannah.
Gregori was shielding her, the haze he created making it impossible to detect her in the night. Randall craned his neck, worked to get around his partner, going so far as to shove him out of his way. His heart was beating frantically, his one thought to find Savannah.
“What are you doing, Gregori?” she demanded softly.
Gary inched through the crowd of tourists until he managed to push his way to the Carpathians’ side. He was as enthralled by the storyteller as the rest of the crowd. He studied the building with its history of sexual misconduct, fire, and murder with rapt attention.
Gregori bent his dark head down to hers. “I can do no other than eliminate the threat to you. The vampire has a clear trail leading straight to you from this one’s mind. It is a trap, ma petite,and we cannot afford to fall into it.”
“You don’t mean we,” she said, “you mean me”Perkins shoved at Randall hard enough to cause the other man to sprawl in the middle of the street. Randall erupted into obscenities, disturbing the storyteller. Their host paused for the best dramatic effect, heaved a sigh, and strolled toward the two combatants.