Vermilion Justice Read online

  Glancing into the room as she slipped by, Nicoletta saw three men stretched out in chairs before the fire. A bottle of wine was tipped over onto the stone floor, the drink flowing freely like a deep crimson river. One of the men held a second bottle that he waved in the air as he spoke loudly, telling a ribald story that had the other two laughing loudly. From the neck of the bottle bright-red wine flew like rain, though none of them seemed to notice.

  She knew all three of them, and the sight of their flushed faces made her skin crawl. Josef Yalina and Matea Branta were nobles with large nearby estates. Both were pigs who kissed the Prince’s boots and in return were allowed to do as they pleased.

  The third man was the Prince. Even from this distance, the difference between him and the two nobles was clear. Dress him in rags and he would still be a royal. Power radiated from him like the rays of the midday sun. If one did not peer too closely, the sight of him could be intoxicating. For her, the closeness had revealed something that would always make her want to retch. She longed for the day when she had been able to look upon him and see only a handsome face and regal bearing.

  Her brother possessed power too, though his was of a different nature. All knew of it and respected it. No one spoke of it. Ever. To do so was to risk the wrath of the Prince. Few dared to cross either the Prince or her brother, and rightfully so. The Prince was vicious without the wine. Drunk with it…the thought made her shudder.

  She yearned to understand why her brother had to leave her and go away to another world for so long. He never explained other than to say he was on a pilgrimage to find the woman, and she learned not to push him for answers. It did no good. When he chose not to speak, even the Prince could not pry words from his lips. Not even with his threats or his stakes. She admired that about him. She hated that about him.

  On another night like this one, true black with only a few stars dotting the sky, her brother had walked between the stones and disappeared. She had waited for hours, thinking he would simply travel a distance and return. When the light of day fell upon her and the sun warmed her body, she knew it would not be so. He had passed through the stones and was gone somewhere beyond her reach.

  Where? She did not know.

  All she had to cling to was his promise that he would return on this night when the moon was full and directly above. When a shooting star cut through the black sky. Then he would come back to her once more and the prophecy would be fulfilled. He would bring with him the woman who was to save them all.

  Time was growing short and the stones were still far away. Her journey was a long one, and she did not dare linger any longer. She peered into the room once more and, certain no one looked her way, slipped by and out into the night.

  The path was well known to her, for she had followed it a hundred times since he had gone away. Always she hoped to meet him along the rough and rutted road. Always she returned alone.

  Not tonight. He would come. The truth of it tingled within her bones. She could almost see his face and feel the strength of his body as she hugged him to her. When she returned to the castle this night, he would be with her and everything would change.

  *

  A comfortable silence had fallen between them as Lura watched the fire Alexandru coaxed into a blaze in the big fireplace. She felt a little like she was drowning in the flames that licked at the logs piled high in the grate. The feeling wasn’t all that unpleasant.

  She finally drew her gaze away from the hypnotic flames and studied Alexandru. He seemed different here, more at ease. Not that he’d been tense or uptight, that she’d noticed, since meeting him this morning. Still, in this simple cottage far from the city he seemed naturally at peace. He wasn’t a city boy, that was for certain.

  “Where do you come from,” she asked, breaking the silence at last. Their small talk throughout the day had mostly revolved around her, and it occurred to her now that he’d told her little of himself. She was curious to know what made this man tick. Why he had taken her cause upon his shoulders when he didn’t have to?

  He smiled and said, “My family comes from a part of Romania that was once known as Wallachia, the land that brought Dracula into this world. Once upon a time this place was divided into a number of kingdoms, of which Wallachia was one.”

  She thought on the reference to Dracula. “The way you say his name is so different. Everyone else in these parts describes him as a prince of a guy, even as bloody as he was. By the tone of your voice, I get the feeling you disagree with that characterization.” It was true. She noticed an edge to the way he said the man’s name absent in anything else said. Made her wonder all the more about him.

  His nod was slight. “You are very astute. Yes, I know the legends. I’ve heard them all and understand how the people today see him as a savior. Truthfully, the man was a demon, bloodthirsty and power-crazed. His body was of princely blood. His heart was not.” Again, the biting words had an almost personal feel to them.

  She tucked the throw around her feet as she leaned closer to the fire. “I thought he saved the land from the Turkish invasion.” Sofia’s stories had possessed a magical spin to the Prince who saved her homeland from invaders.

  Again, he nodded, his brown eyes intense. “It is true. His methods, though brutal, were very effective in turning back the Turks, at least temporarily. In some ways he saved many of his countrymen’s lives. If that were all of the story, then I’d embrace him as a hero. Unfortunately, it is far from the complete chronicle of the man, and that is why I have a problem with how they worship him in this century. Time has erased so much of the reality, taking away the tarnish and replacing it with gilt.”

  “You believe the legends about his killing for fun?”

  This time he shook his head, which surprised her, given what he’d just said. The history books were full of various accounts of brutality that seemed to edge just past what was needed to maintain order and avoid anarchy. Those accounts seemed in line with Alexandru’s interpretation of Dracula.

  His eyes met hers with a hardness she hadn’t seen before. His words were just as harsh. “I don’t believe, Lura. I know.”

  Wow, there was something very concrete in his statement. No sitting on the fence here. She said lightly, “You say that like you actually knew him.”

  He raised a single eyebrow. “Let us just say I have a little more background on the man than most people.”

  She sat up straighter in her chair and nodded. “So that’s it, you’re an historian.” He did have that air about him. Not arrogant or snobby, just quietly knowledgeable. It made sense and accounted for the way his words came across as personal.

  He inclined his head. “Yes and no. I think of myself more as a traveler, which gives me the opportunity to pick up history through my personal adventures.”

  Traveler? Across miles, oceans, and continents, perhaps, but this conversation was crossing centuries. So far Alexandru was proving adept at not giving a straight answer to the vast majority of her questions. “You’re quite a mystery man, Alexandru Vizulea, full of crooked answers and more than a few surprises.”

  His dark eyes danced. “I’m not sure, but I believe that is a compliment, no?”

  Lura laughed, surprised at the sound coming from her lips. She’d had nothing to laugh at even before Vic’s death. “I suppose it is in a kind of backhanded way. I only know that since meeting you this morning, I’m starting to feel a little bit better, and that says a lot.”

  His face brightened, though his eyes were still dark and somber. “I’m glad. I hope you will still feel the same tomorrow.”

  Why wouldn’t she? Then again, she didn’t want to think about tomorrow. At first she’d been irritated to discover they were trapped on this island for the night. As the evening wore on, she’d settled in and appreciated the peaceful cottage and the warm fire. Her taut nerves began to relax, something that hadn’t happened since the call about Vic. Tomorrow would be soon enough to bring him home. With that thought in min
d, she excused herself and went to bed.

  She sank down on the soft bed and rubbed her face with her hands. Outside the bedroom door, Alexandru moved about quietly. After a few moments, even those sounds were gone. Silence draped around her. Sighing, she lay back and prayed for sleep. It came, taking her away to blessed oblivion.

  Sometime later, she didn’t exactly know how much later, she kicked the covers off and tried to untangle her legs from the crisp white sheets. A few moments passed in the total darkness before she remembered where she was. It had to be late into the night, because it was jet black in the tiny bedroom.

  She’d been sick when she boarded the plane in Seattle, disgust, despair, and self-loathing filling her every fiber. The time in between had done nothing to dull those feelings. Duty, however, had propelled her forward, accompanied by the guilt of having driven Vic to his death.

  Now she was confused. She expected to be in a small Tirgoviste hotel, the ashes of her husband packed in her suitcase, ready to head back to Bucharest for a flight home. Instead here she was lying in small, soft bed in the middle of a Romanian island with a strange man, wanting little more than to stay put for days. Somehow it all felt right, and that was the oddest thing of all.

  The wind kicked up as she straightened and pulled her legs to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. The shutters rattled and the wind whistled by. Once again she sensed the world outside was trying to talk to her and tell her something that was just out of earshot. Shaking her head, she almost laughed. Supernatural imagination wasn’t typically her style, yet here she was thinking about spirits in the wind talking to her.

  The dim light of a full moon directly overhead poked its way through the small window shutters, casting golden streaks across the floor. She got up and walked as softly as she could to the window. Easing the shutters open, she stared into the night.

  Off in the distance she saw him standing there, a shadow really, the figure of a tall man who appeared to be watching the house with a steady gaze. No overactive imagination at work here. She knew who she was seeing—Alexandru. What on earth was he doing out there at this time of night?

  Did he see her? Then again, how could he? It was bleak inside the house, and she didn’t have so much as a candle to light the room. If it wasn’t for the moonlight, she wouldn’t have spotted him.

  For a few minutes, she stood and watched him, wondering if he would come back to the cottage. Curiosity got the better of her and, looking around for something to put over her lightweight nightclothes, she spied a lovely robe on a hook behind the door. It was gorgeous really, long and lush velvet, a color she couldn’t quite discern in the shadowy room. She slipped it on, tied the belt tight around her waist, and headed for the door.

  The grass was cold and damp, and Lura wished she’d put something a little more substantial on her feet besides the sandals she’d brought along, thinking they’d pack well. That part of her plan was perfect; they did work well in a suitcase. Not so well on long damp grass with the beginnings of frost. As cold and crunchy as the grass was, she’d have been much more comfortable in her hiking boots. But it wasn’t like she planned to be out here long, so what did it matter if the slides and her feet got wet? At least the heavy robe was nice and warm.

  Hurrying along, she kept him in sight as she moved farther away from the cottage. What was Alexandru so interested in that he’d come out in the middle of the night? So far, she hadn’t seen or heard a thing that merited leaving the warmth of the cozy bedroom. She’d almost reached him when he turned and started walking away.

  “Alexandru,” she said loudly. “Wait.” Kind of rude when he could see her trying to catch up with him.

  He didn’t even turn, just kept walking in the direction of a large rock outcropping. Was he just going to let her run behind him in a robe and slippers? Really…what kind of host left his guest to wander around in her nightclothes? And Alexandru himself, what exactly was he wearing? From here it looked like it was some sort of thigh-length jacket over tights. Tights? Obviously she was way more tired than she realized, because no way was she seeing what she thought she was.

  “Alexandru?” She yelled a little louder this time. He had to hear her. He wasn’t that far away.

  Finally, he turned and glanced back. His eyes seemed to meet hers—a little hard to tell for sure in the inky darkness—and for a moment she thought he would stop. He didn’t, not even when he reached the outcropping of large rocks. His pace never slowed.

  And then he was gone.

  Chapter Five

  Riah watched Adriana come out of the bathroom rubbing a towel over her wet hair and wearing nothing at all. The sight made Riah’s breath catch in her throat. Adriana was so beautiful. Skinny wasn’t the word she’d use to describe Adriana because she was curvy and full breasted. All woman. The combination was breathtaking.

  It wasn’t just her physical beauty that made Riah’s body ache at the mere sight of her. No, it was the whole woman—mind, body, and spirit. In all her time on this earth, she’d never encountered someone quite like Adriana, and she was grateful every day when she awakened to find her still here.

  “What?” Adriana asked when she caught Riah’s stare.

  Riah smiled and shook her head. “Nothing. I was just thinking how much I love you.”

  “Back atcha, girlfriend.” Adriana tossed the towel toward the bathroom before launching herself on the bed next to Riah. She smelled fresh and clean. “Been waiting for you to open those pretty eyes of yours. Took your sweet time too, lazy bones.”

  A tingle slid down her spine. “Have you now?”

  Adriana lightly touched Riah’s bare breast. “Oh, yeah.” Then her head dipped to take a nipple into her mouth.

  Riah arched back and moaned. One simple touch was all it took to send her to a very happy place. Her hands went to Adriana’s short black hair, the dampness and sweet scent of vanilla still clinging to it. The hot feel of her lips on her breast contrasted to the coolness of her hair against Riah’s palms. She moaned again.

  Adriana raised her head and smiled wickedly. She began to slide off the bed. “So you probably want to get downstairs, see what’s going on.”

  She barely kept the begging out of her voice. “No.”

  The wicked smile grew. “Oh…no? You tired? Need a little more rest?”

  The tease. She liked it. “No.”

  Sliding back onto the bed, Adriana dangled a handful of scarves she’d grabbed from the nightstand. “Um, well then, what shall we do?”

  Before Riah could answer, Adriana began to use the scarves. The beautiful four-poster bed was in their room for more reasons than being a fantastic piece of furniture.

  Satisfied with her work, Adriana stepped back and studied Riah as she lay with her hands and feet tied to the bedposts with the silk scarves. She licked her lips and said, “Looking good, vampire, real good.”

  The game was breathtaking. Oh, she could tear away the scarves with barely a flick of one hand, but she wouldn’t. This game was more than sex; it was trust and love and sex all rolled together. Adriana had taught her that, and it made her heart soar.

  So did the touch of Adriana’s lips and tongue as they worked across every inch of Riah’s body. Her nerves were on fire, the desire building until she thought she’d explode. When Adriana moved between her legs, she didn’t think she could hold on much longer. The moment her tongue touched her center, it was over. Any pretense of control was gone. She came with a cry that would probably wake anyone who happened to still be asleep anywhere in the house.

  Later, when the scarves were returned to the drawer and Adriana was loose-limbed and breathing heavy too, Riah wanted to kick back and enjoy the moment. Except she couldn’t.

  Despite the mind-blowing sex, she was catching Ivy’s unsettling mood. Maybe because it was so out of character for her. Ivy just didn’t let things rattle her. It was one of the things that made her so good at her job as the coroner in Grant County, a position she’d held unti
l she was turned. It was also what made her so incredible as a hunter after her life changed.

  Now, Riah was feeling as uneasy as Ivy. It was possible she was simply picking up Ivy’s jittery vibes, or maybe it was something else. She’d had a lot of years to learn how to tune out others when she chose. After all this time, she was a master at it. That truth made her all the more nervous. What exactly was she picking up on if it wasn’t Ivy’s trepidation about her cousin?

  Not something she wanted to put a name to. The Spiritus Group had endured three particularly bloody battles since forming, and it would be nice to have a rest for a change. A little vacation of sorts. Didn’t appear that was going to happen. She had a bad feeling her wishes and reality were at odds. Evil just didn’t want to take a break.

  Adriana, on the other hand, wasn’t about to let sleeping dogs lie either. Recovering from their interlude, like Riah, she was alert and on edge, her spider senses picking up on the unease as well. Without talking too much, they rolled out of bed, showered, and dressed. Fifteen minutes later, they were downstairs joining Ivy, Colin, Tory, and Naomi, who were already up and brainstorming.

  Frowning and rubbing her hands together, Adriana said, “Okay, chickies. Something has our vamps in a twit, and I think we need to figure out what it is.”

  “Hey,” Tory said from across the room. “Maybe you should be a bit more specific about the vamps you’re referring to. I am definitely not in a twit.”

  She nodded, the frown still pulling down the corners of her mouth. “Duly noted. As I was saying, two of our vamps are wound up tight, and I believe we all need to figure out why and what we can do. Hunters of the preternatural persuasion in a twit…not a good idea, boys and girls.”

  “I’m not in a twit either,” Ivy said, a small frown shadowing her usually beautiful face. “I’m just worried. No, that’s not even right. What I am is really worried. This isn’t like Lura. She’s the responsible type. Always made me look like a scofflaw. If I didn’t love her so much, I’d probably hate her, if you know what I mean.”