The warmth of his breath curled against her chilled cheek, and her shivering turned convulsive.
This was a man who knew exactly what he was doing, each movement choreographed down to the millimeter. That should have turned her off. It always had before. But it didn’t this time. Where was her turn off switch?
With lightning speed, her mind tried out and discarded several answers in an effort to find one that sounded normal. The problem was, they all sounded suggestive.
I’m warm enough now. Oh, thank you. (Don’t even.)
I could be warmer. (No. It doesn’t matter if it’s the truth. Just NO.)
The decision was too difficult. She couldn’t figure out what to say, and the mounting pressure of the passing seconds got to her. She muttered, “I—I don’t know.”
His hand clamped down on her shoulder, the grip punishingly tight. It jolted her so much, she jerked her head up and stared at him.
He wasn’t looking at her. His attention had turned to the dock. She looked in the same direction.
Several Nightkind creatures walked toward the slip where the yacht was moored, including two trolls, four ghouls and five Vampyres. Ten of the Nightkind, including the trolls, wore black Nightkind uniforms. The last of the Nightkind strode at the head of the group.
Even for someone like Olivia, who did not live or socialize in elevated circles, he was a very recognizable Vampyre. He wore tailored evening clothes that fit his tall, powerful frame superbly. He had short black hair that was streaked at the temples with flecks of white, a rough-hewn, aquiline face and a piercing, wolfish gaze.
Julian Regillus, the Nightkind King himself, had come to pay them a visit.
Sebastian’s hand on Olivia’s shoulder remained a heavy, hard presence. She could feel pressure from every one of his fingers, although when she glanced at his face, he looked expressionless.
Two of the security crew on duty stepped out of the pilot’s cabin, their faces sharp. They froze when Sebastian gestured to them. He said nothing, but just watched as the Nightkind King and his group approached until they stood at the foot of the boarding ramp.
The King looked up at them where they stood at the railing, his hands on his hips, while his people fanned out around him. From what Olivia understood from popular media, Carling had turned Julian at the height of the Roman Empire. Julian had been one of Emperor Hadrian’s most famous and distinguished generals, and now he was one of the most ancient Vampyres in the world. Even from that distance, Olivia felt his Power covering the dock in a dark, seductive mantle.
Julian’s gaze met hers and held it as effortlessly as if he cradled a glass of wine in his long fingers. What an incredible experience it would be, she thought, to talk with the Nightkind King. The things he had experienced, the vast amount of history he would remember… Although he had begun his life as a human, that was so very long ago, now he must be as different from humankind as all but the most alien of the Elder Races.
The King smiled slightly, almost as if he could read her thoughts. Life as a human had not been kind to him. It had etched itself across the rough planes and hollows of his face until he had conquered it. She wondered what tales the marks on his face told, the enemies he had fought, the pain he had endured, the victories he had won.
What would he confess to her as they talked into the night? Could she unlock the secrets of his soul, sprawled on velvet couches in front of a fire?
He was so strong yet so alone, and he needed her. She could sustain him, while he could fulfill her. Only him, only her, as the unending night scrolled on and on…
A snarl sounded beside her, the sound so violent and shocking it made her jump. She felt so disoriented, at first she could not make sense of what she heard, or why the velvet couches had vanished.
“Stop it,” Sebastian hissed between his teeth.
Olivia twisted to face the man beside her. Sebastian stared down at the King. His bold, hard face had transformed into a look of such naked aggression, she would have taken several steps back had he not held her anchored at his side with that iron, unyielding grip. His Power had roused as well, and surrounded her in sharp, invisible blades.
“I have not done anything,” the King said. His smile had widened, not unpleasantly. “She is human. Some humans react this way.”
While he spoke aloud, the darkest of voices came into her head. If there comes a time when you wish to do so, you may come to me.
And the thing that terrified her most was not that the King had issued the invitation, but that a wild desire had risen up inside of her in response to it. Shaking violently, she turned to face Sebastian and grabbed his T-shirt with both fists. He put his arms around her, his grip as hard and unyielding as his hand on her shoulder had been.
“Don’t look at him,” he muttered.
She nodded jerkily. She whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”
As they spoke, she felt Phaedra’s presence rouse.