Touch of Evil Read online

  “This.”

  Eve didn’t have time to do anything other than gasp before his lips descended on hers. It was the second time today he had done this to her, and even with her knowledge of what he was, it didn’t cool the fire his kiss started in her blood. If anything, the thrill of danger made it even hotter.

  Her fingers curled in the sleeves of Ash’s jacket and she pushed up on her toes, seeking to deepen the kiss, which he obliged happily. His tongue slid over hers and she could taste the champagne they had sipped earlier. The thought that he was no less intoxicating than the cool drink raced through her mind.

  He ravished her mouth until she melted into him, the fullness of her breasts pressing wondrously against his chest. He pulled back then, taking in her emerald eyes, which were hazed with desire, and her kiss-swollen lips. A wave of tenderness crashed over him, softening his mouth and cooling the fire in his eyes. This time, when he dipped his head to claim her mouth, the savage hunger was replaced by a gentleness so sweet, it turned her bones to jelly.

  Ash’s every sense was attuned to her. Nothing but her taste, scent and feel penetrated his consciousness. Nothing else mattered but her and this moment.

  When the stars exploded behind his eyes, he had the insane notion that it was because of the kiss. Until it was followed a split-second later by pain so sharp it blacked out his vision as soon as he opened his eyes. He was slumping into Eve without realizing her struggle to keep him upright. The last thing he remembered before another, mind-numbing jolt of pain rushed through his head, was Eve’s bloodcurdling scream.

  * * * *

  Mark leaned casually against a tree and stared into the open car door as the woman in his backseat started to stir. He tossed his cigarette away when Brianne moaned and waited.

  Brie raised a hand to press it against her head, quickly realizing that she couldn’t move her arms. Her eyes snapped open and she tried to sit up in one motion, only to slump back when a wave of nausea hit her.

  “Stay down. It’s the affects of the chloroform,” an unfamiliar man told her, leaning inside the car and peering at her. “It should wear off soon.”

  “Who are you?”

  Her voice was husky, but it felt like silk sliding over Mark’s skin. He scowled at his persistently annoying reaction to her and dug in the pockets of his duster for another cigarette.

  “Name’s Mark Lynch.” He would have chuckled when she rolled her eyes, if he’d been of the mind to.

  “That’s your name, not who you are,” she pointed out, sounding like a queen and looking like one to boot. He had a feeling that her sister’s hunch she was royalty back in her homeland was probably not too far off. Even though she was in the back of the car and he had to stoop to look at her, Brie managed to look down at him pretty well.

  “Sorry. Guess I forgot my manners.”

  He didn’t sound very apologetic, a point proven by the nasty smile he flashed her.

  “Your sister hired me to rescue you.”

  Her eyes widened and she looked around. “Eve? Where is she?”

  “We’ll be meeting up with her tomorrow. We wanted to throw Sebastian off the scent, so we split up,” he explained, rolling the newly lighted cigarette in his fingers.

  His attention to the slender legs exposed by the short hemline of her skirt went unbidden. They had to be the longest he had ever seen, he decided before he realized what he was doing and looked back up at her face. She had apparently noticed what he was doing, as well, because her unusual violet eyes were cold and a dark eyebrow raised.

  “If you’re my rescuer…” she stressed the last word like she didn’t believe it, causing Mark to scowl once more, “—then why am I tied up?” She jerked a bit, indicating the rope that had her tied in a lying position.

  “Couldn’t risk you waking up while I was driving and taking a crack at my skull.”

  Brie considered this while she stared at the dark-haired stranger via the car’s interior light. She memorized every line of his face in case he turned out to be a liar and was really after her to get revenge against Sebastian. The part of her that appreciated beauty noticed that he was quite a wonderful specimen of the male species. The part of her that appreciated fear knew that she had to tread carefully with this man. She had seen tigers that looked less dangerous.

  “Well, now that you have explained the situation, you can untie me.”

  One of his black eyebrows shot up and, unless she was mistaken, a hint of a smile played around his full mouth. “Not yet.”

  She couldn’t hold the apprehension back anymore, not with the way his eyes went cold and suspicious.

  “Excuse me?” She cringed that her voice bordered on shrill, but he was seriously disturbing her.

  “I said, not yet. You see, your sister was sure that you would want to be rescued. After seeing your dressing room, and the fact that you are a Siren, I’m not completely convinced.”

  “What does my race have to do with it?” she challenged, raising her chin in defiant anger.

  “Considering that Sirens are well known for using men as slaves—oh, and by the way I hear you so much as humming and I will rip your throat out—and the fact that they also like to snack on them, I think it will take quite a bit for you to convince me that you aren’t dangerous.”

  “Firstly, Sirens don’t eat men.” He looked doubtful, but she ignored him and continued, “Secondly, if I choose, one note and you would be dead. Before you could even take a step towards me, I could turn your brain into mush and you would be spending the rest of your life weaving baskets at an insane asylum.”

  Despite the rising of his temper at her cold delivery of the facts of her gift, Mark had to admire her for it. She was in a strange car with a man that said he was working for her sister, which she had no proof of. She was holding herself together quite well.

  “Now, untie me. Unless you want a demonstration,” she added when he hesitated.

  He straightened, hiding his face from her and presenting her with a view of the dark cotton of his T-shirt covering his stomach. She let him ponder whether she was serious for a moment, before calling out to him. “I’m getting rather impatient, Mr. Lynch.”

  She heard him curse, saw the orange light of his cigarette fall as he dropped it to the ground and crushed it out with an angry jerk of his foot. She watched as his leather coat slid from his arms and landed across the front seat. Then he was back, leaning inside the car, his booted foot propped on the edge of the car. He glared at her before yanking up his pants leg and extracting a wicked looking knife that had her eyes widening again from the holster inside his boot. She bit her lip nervously as he lowered the blade to her feet. He held her ankles in one large, warm hand to keep her from jerking, then quickly sliced away her bonds.

  Leaning across her, his body pressed intimately into hers, making her face flame. “What’s the matter, princess? Nervous?”

  The words were teasing, the tone was not. As soon as he cut off the rope around her wrists, Brianne pushed at his chest, trying to get him to move. He stayed where he was, the look on his face telling her that while she had a voice that could kill, he was physically stronger and, therefore, just as lethal.

  She followed when he got out of the car, and took deep breaths of the cool forest air. Glancing around, she realized that she had no idea where they were. She turned to face him and found him leaning against a tree.

  “So, where are we going to meet my sister?”

  “It’s still a few hours away. There’s a bag in the trunk if you want to get out of that dress.” He leered as he spoke, his eyes raking over her.

  Anger surged in her blood at his brazenness, but she didn’t bother to answer him. Instead, she turned on her heel, ignoring the twigs and pebbles digging into her bare feet and stormed to the trunk. She heard him chuckle over the crunch of his boots on the rocks on the ground as he walked over to join her. She didn’t look at him as he opened the trunk and reached in to get the ancient duffle bag that Brie
recognized as Eve’s. He set it on the ground, and she opened it and rifled through the contents.

  Sure enough, the clothes that she had left at her sister’s were in there, as well as a long, white envelope with her name in Eve’s handwriting sloping across the front.

  “I’ll go over there while you change. Don’t worry I won’t peek. Much,” Mark told her, and walked away.

  She glared at his retreating back until he disappeared around the side of the car, then quickly stripped out of the evening dress and pulled on a T-shirt, jeans and a pair of white sneakers. She shoved the dress back in the bag and closed it. After hefting it back into the trunk, she slammed it closed. “I’m ready, Mr. Lynch.”

  Mark bit the inside of his cheek at her formality and pushed away from the tree.

  “Well, then, Ms. Murphy, let’s get this show on the road.” He raised his arm with a flourish and ushered her into the car, his smile mocking.

  She didn’t acknowledge that he had spoken as he got in the driver’s side and revved the engine. She clutched the letter in her fingers as the car lurched back onto the road to travel further into the night and silently asked herself what the hell had her sister been thinking to send this man after her?

  Chapter Eight

  Little by little, Ash awoke. He had no idea where he was, or how long he had been here. The more he became alert, the more he felt the burning pain in his chest. What had only been a minor irritant at first, intensified with each second until he wanted to scream. He snapped his eyes open when it became unbearable, shakily reaching up with one hand to find the source of the pain and get rid of it. As soon as he touched the object, his hand exploded in white-hot agony. He cried out, and vaguely realized that the sound was nowhere near human.

  That didn’t matter right now. What mattered was getting the pain to stop.

  “Shhhh … cher. I’ve got it,” a smooth, feminine voice told him.

  He glanced over and saw Celine, the woman he had met by the lake. Her pale face smiled at him. She moved quickly to sit next to him and reached around his neck. The pain lessened when she pulled her hand back, but didn’t totally go away.

  “Such a little thing, causing you so much hurt.” She tsked and shook her head, sending her dark curls into a tizzy around her face. Then she laughed, a silky, delighted sound that tightened his body and had him offering her a grin in return.

  She held up the thing that had been lying against his chest. A small, silver cross twirled merrily in the candlelight, the sight of it causing Ash to hiss and flinch.

  “Now, now, mon cher. You don’t need to worry about this no more.” She tossed it casually over her shoulder, then reached out to touch the spot on his chest that still throbbed. “You were a good boy, weren’t you? Probably went to Church every Sunday and said you’re prayers every night.” She traced a finger lightly around where the pain still throbbed, her voice distant, almost as if she were talking to herself. She captured her bottom lip between her teeth and worried it softly while she contemplated him. “So beautiful. Now you’re marked, cher. This’ll never go away.”

  Ash rose up on a shaky elbow and looked down to where her cool touch soothed his chest. He hissed in a breath when he saw the two inch patch of charred black skin. The cross had burned into his flesh, just to the right of his heart and dangerously close to his nipple.

  “What … why?” Why had the cross burned him?

  Ash tried to think. Tried to remember. But there was nothing.

  “Shh… Don’t you worry ‘bout nothing now, precious. Come, I have a gift.”

  He followed when Celine tugged on his hand, swinging his legs off the cot he had been resting on. Now that he stood, he could see they were in a tiny wooden shack that smelled like water rot and rats. The only light came from a small lantern placed on a crate near the door, and the glow was barely enough to expand more than a foot beyond itself. There was no other furniture in the room, outside of the cot with its moldy straw mattress.

  All his attention was suddenly caught by another woman in the cabin. She leaned against the wall, her long, straight, blonde hair glowing eerily in the darkness. The closer he drew, the more he realized that she was no woman.

  Her gauzy nightgown barely covered newly grown curves and her smooth cheeks still held unshed baby fat. The scent that filled his nostrils as he approached her, told him that while she might not yet be a grown woman, her body had a grown woman’s knowledge. The wide, dark eyes she peered up at him through held no fear, something that struck him as odd. She was in a shack, with a strange man. She should be quaking with terror.

  “Doesn’t she smell sweet, precious? So young. So pure. Couldn’t you just … eat her up?” Celine’s voice was soft music in his ear, her touch on his bare chest exquisite.

  Ash turned toward her, his nose burying itself in her fragrant tresses. She scraped her nails against his skin, making him tremble. Need, sharp and hot, sliced through him. His arm shot out and he clasped her tightly against him. With his tongue, he found her bared throat and tasted. He bit her soft skin, and responded to her purr of approval with one of his own. Bringing a hand up, he cupped the firm mound of her breast, testing its weight as if he had been doing it for years. She arched eagerly against him, her laughter thick and husky.

  “But, wait, cher. You are forgetting my present. Such bad manners.” Celine pulled away and slapped his shoulder lightly, the fire burning in her dark eyes letting him know that he would get her soon. “Come, mon petit, so he can see you better.”

  The girl approached on long, coltish legs, her slender hands rising to undo the bow that kept her nightdress together. He watched her, transfixed as she shed the garment without hesitation. His mouth watered as her young, tender body came into view, the buds of her breasts rising high, the scent of her sex fresh and musky. He reached for her when she stopped in front of him, his big hands testing her flesh. She quivered gently, her eyes never leaving him as she let him have his fill of touching her. He moved his hands down her body, and she gasped in pleasure when his fingers penetrated her folds, sliding inside the slick depths.

  “Oh, yes, my sweet,” Celine said from somewhere behind him. “You learn quickly. But that’s not what you really want from her. Not yet. Breathe deep, mon cher. You will know.”

  Closing his eyes, Ash did as she bade. The scents of arousal—his, Celine’s and the girls—teased his senses. As he took the air into his lungs, something sweeter, more pungent penetrated his brain. He opened his eyes and looked back down at the girl, his gaze going immediately to her throat where the pulse that throbbed loudly in his ears drummed against her skin. He lifted a hand and pushed the long, silky strands of hair away, then slid his hand along her shoulder and over her throat, growling low at the feel of her blood rushing under his palm.

  “Yes, precious. That’s it,” Celine purred, running her hands over every inch of his exposed flesh and hair. She watched as he pulled the girl closer, crushing her body against his.

  The girl’s head lolled to the side, giving him easy access. Celine laughed in delight when Ash’s face shifted, letting out the beast within. She had been right to turn him. He was glorious.

  He was panting, his breath coming in short, cool bursts against the girl’s skin. A desperate hunger clawed its way through Ash, tearing apart his insides and urging him to feed.

  “Go on, you know what to do,” Celine whispered in his ear, touching her tongue to the shell of his lobe.

  He didn’t need more urging than that. Instinct had him leaning forward, his eyes drifting closed with anticipated pleasure. He nearly came as his fangs sank into the tender flesh of her throat. The girl arched against him, a husky moan falling from her mouth as it dropped open.

  With the first taste of the girl’s blood, everything fell into place. And he was lost.

  Ash came awake with a start. The phantom taste of the girl’s blood from over a century ago played sweetly over his palette. The fear, the desire. Mother’s milk Celine had cal
led it. Nothing Ash had ever had as a human compared to the taste of that girl. Nothing else had compared since.

  “The first is always the sweetest, cher,” Celine had whispered when he’d pulled his head up, rich red blood staining his lips. She had purred and praised as he’d fed, her fingers caressing every inch of him. When he was done, he’d dropped the lifeless body to the ground … God, she couldn’t have been sixteen yet … with no regard to the life he had just taken. The fact that the girl was just the beginning of the next bloody half century of his life hadn’t even gotten consideration. All that mattered was the power singing through his veins, the heat her blood had given him. The almost painful arousal her soft, warm body had caused.

  He’d grabbed Celine, kissing her viciously and tearing away her clothes. She had laughed and set her own hands to divesting his pants. They’d come together violently, his young victim’s blood covering their skin and the scent of death thick in the air.

  “Thinking of your sire, Mr. Marshall?”

  Ash jerked when he heard Sebastian’s smooth, cultured voice behind him. His surroundings came to him slowly. He was chained, his arms raised high above his head, the muscles singing with ache from holding him upright. His head throbbed when he tried to swivel it to see the other vampire, reminding him of how he came to be in the stark, stone room. He was stripped to the waist and barefooted, the skin of his chest glowing gold in the candlelight.

  He didn’t reply to Sebastian’s question as the vampire came into view. He glared darkly at him, ignoring the pain in his body and transferring that energy into the menacing glower he fixed on his face. Since he was tied up, it wouldn’t do any good, but it made him feel marginally in control.

  “Not up to talking yet? Well, that’s no matter. I take it, since you were calling your sire’s name just a moment ago, that you were remembering a time when you weren’t a weak, disgusting human’s pet.” Sebastian took a step closer, his mild expression belied by the dangerous gleam in his eyes.