That was sommm, good. His eyes sought something in hers, so desperately, Blyss felt as if shed done something wrong. Youre... He sniffed, pushing his nose against her neck again and lingering at the base of her ear where her hair must tickle his face. God, you smell good. But theres something...
She dropped her legs and tugged down her skirt. What is it?
I dont know. I just... He pressed a hand over her breast, and it was only then that Blyss noticed how her heartbeats thundered. Shed love to do it again with this oneto actually take her time and find her own orgasmbut...
She would see him again. He just didnt know that yet.
Youre beautiful, he said. But you dont belong here.
The hand at her chest suddenly felt like a two-ton weight. Blyss gaped. She shook her head. Why do you say that?
I dont know why I feel that, but I do, he said. Something about you. Are you...lost?
A knock at the door sounded.
Stryke quickly zipped and Blyss tugged down her dress and adjusted the red ribbon at the top of her silk stocking. Lorcan? she called.
You busy? a British voice called from outside the door. Theyd done this drill before. He knew never to simply open the door and walk right in.
Hes my assistant. And such perfect timing!
She pushed by Stryke and strode toward the door, hands smoothing over her hair. I have to get back. Theyll be looking for me. You should leave now. Please.
She unlocked the door and opened it, revealing Lorcan waiting outside. He knew better than to show a cheeky grin or even a raised brow. The man was ever discreet. She returned the same courtesy to him. Turning, Blyss gulped down the longing that had been planted there by Strykes sensual prowess. Shed wanted to linger.
Really? Linger against his heat, his overwhelming essence of man, sex and muscle? Sounded delicious. But indulgence in what her heart desired was something she never allowed.
Stryke passed her and slowed, as if he wanted to say something to her, but with Lorcan standing in the doorway, his eyes respectfully gliding along the door frame, Stryke simply nodded and walked out.
Dont go back into the gallery! she called after him. Please.
He nodded as his strides took him down the hallway and away from her.
And she turned and strode back to the desk, palm pressed over her heart and biting her lip to prevent the tears.
Tears? What had he meant when hed insinuated she was lost? Perhaps he hadnt been such a wise choice, after all. It was too late to alter her plan. Shed already completed the main step.
She would have to see Stryke again. And she looked forward to it. She dreaded it, as well.
Everything all right, duck? Lorcan asked.
She nodded. Im sorry. You know sometimes I just...
No need for an explanation. Im headed out myself with a pretty young thing. Wanted to let you know Im leaving. Unless you need me to stay and lock up?
No. Thank you, Lorcan. Ive the security guard and the waitstaff will be around, as well. Go have some fun. Ill see you in a few days.
Yes. Well cement our plans for the showing then, eh?
She nodded.
If all went well, that showing would never occur. And the only one aware it had failed would be her. She had a plan for keeping Lorcan in the dark about it.
He left the office door open, and Blyss bent and peered past her assistant to see if she could still see Strykes back, but he was gone.
The Île Saint-Louis, she whispered. Now to step three in the plan. This will be the most difficult.
And if her heart got in the way again she truly would be lost, as hed guessed.
* * *
Talk about the cold shoulder.
Stryke actually shivered as he strode down the darkened hallway, passed by the gallery and aimed straight for the exit.
Outside, he shrugged off the uncomfortable suit coat and tossed it over a shoulder. He should have hailed a cab, but he could see the river Seine from here. One thing hed learned since arriving in Paris: if a man could locate the river, hed never get lost. There was the left bank and the right bank, and the river. And he knew the island where he was staying was to his left.
It would be about a twenty-minute walk. He could use the fresh air. It was July and even nearing midnight the air was sultry. But not as sultry as the sexy handful hed just held up against the wall.
Blyss, he murmured.
And yet.
What happened back there?
Earlier this evening hed donned a borrowed suit, met Blade on the street before the chocolate shop and entered the gallery with hopes to view some interesting artwork. A couple of rednecks mingling with the snooty set. It was supposed to be a kick. Stryke hadnt expected to pick up the hottest chick in the place.
And to have sex with her.
Blade and his miniskirted twins had nothing on what hed scored.
But the craziest thing of all? There had been something about her. And it wasnt her beauty or her bold tease or the quick but satisfying liaison. He toggled the cuff link shed returned to him. Her scent had been... Well hell, he didnt know how to categorize the uniqueness of her. Beyond the sweet flowery perfume, he had scented something deeper. Intriguing. Familiar?
Crazy, he muttered as he strolled along the river. Lights on the buildings cast a spectacular show across the Seines darkened waters. He marveled that tourists were out in full force. The City of Light truly never slept.
I was caught in the moment. And what a moment.
Would he ever see her again? If he returned to the gallery would she give him the time of day? Acknowledge theyd shared that moment?
Probably not. A woman like Blyss probably picked out a man to please her then tossed him aside without a glance over her sexy, bare shoulder.
Yet she hadnt gotten off. Hed come so quickly. Hadnt been able to stop himself. He felt bad about that. Normally he tended to a womans pleasure before allowing his own. But the moment had jumped on him and hed been swept away. He should have dropped to his knees and...
The assistant had banged on the door, ruining the whole thing.
Stryke paused at an intersection and glanced back the direction from which hed come. A brightly lit Ferris wheel spun through the Paris sky to his left.
Why had he walked away? He should have waited around for the guy to leave and then got her phone number.
Was his hasty retreat because hed felt as if shed rejected him by pulling away from him so quickly? Probably. The woman defined classy. So out of Strykes universe. Probably ate caviar and champagne for breakfast, then skirted around Paris in a Lamborghini painted pale pink, the color of her lips.
Rubbing his brow, Stryke shook his head and walked across the street on the green light. Smirking, he shook his head again. It was a hookup, he muttered. Let it go.
But with the lingering scent of flowers imbued on his skin, letting go was easier thought than done.
Chapter 3
Torsten Rindle was an interesting fellow. Stryke met him in a parking lot on the left bank down the street from a vast city park. The man drove an olive-green van, and hed opened up the back doors to reveal some boxes sitting in the stripped-to-the-framework interior.
Torsten Rindle was an interesting fellow. Stryke met him in a parking lot on the left bank down the street from a vast city park. The man drove an olive-green van, and hed opened up the back doors to reveal some boxes sitting in the stripped-to-the-framework interior.
Tor was tall, slender and dressed in a tweed vest and pleated trousers. A polka-dot tie tightened about a crisp white dress shirt, of which, the sleeves were rolled to his elbows. A cicada was tattooed on the underside of one of his forearms, but otherwise, he appeared a dapper Englishman.
Stryke liked his accent. So Downton Abbey. Not that hed ever watched the show. Okay, maybe once on a date a girl had suggested they cuddle on the couch and watch TV. The things a guy did for a little snuggling.
So Hawkes Associates is strapped for help? Tor asked as he carefully peeled back the packing tape from the top of a cardboard box.
Actually, Rhys Hawkes is busy with a family wedding. Which is why Im in town. The bride is my aunt.
Ah yes, Johnny Santiago and his girl are tying the knot. Good couple. Vampires.
Yes, indeed. And this guy worked for a secret order that hunted vampires. You, uh...ever try to stake them?
Me? Tor grinned, exposing a boyish charm. I dont do the stake. Im spin. Someone has to make sure the mortals didnt see a vampire bite a persons neck, but instead, just happened upon a couple actors rehearsing for a show at the Moulin Rouge. You know? The Order of the Stake only pursues those vampires who are a danger to humans. Like me. Im human. He turned and offered his hand to shake. Sorry, didnt do this properly. Torsten Rindle. Human.
Stryke shook the mans firm grasp. Stryke Saint-Pierre. Werewolf.
I like werewolves, Tor offered, folding back the flap on the box. But you guys can be a challenge when pissed off.
Stryke tilted his head in acknowledgment. Nothing wrong with being a challenge.
So. Tor gestured Stryke approach the back of the van to peer into the box. This is what Ive got.
Rhys said your knights sometimes pick this stuff up from a slain vampires lair?
This artifact came from a vamp who was trafficking in magical accoutrements. Most of the stuffherbs, nostrums and small ritual objectswe toss. But there were some decidedly demonic artifacts mixed in with the more innocuous stuff. Didnt want to keep our hands on this, nor did we want it sitting around for any Tom, Dick or Edward to get his hands on.
May I?
Tor nodded. Youll be taking it with you anyway.
Stryke peered into the box and spied what looked like a staff of sorts. About two feet long, it was sleek, resembled steel and the top portion jutted up into prongs, which looked as though they should be clasping some wizardly sort of crystal.
His fingers neared the staff and then he flinched. Is this what I think it is? he asked.
Demonic scepter. Tor reached in and pulled out the item as if a childs toy and waved it before Stryke. Demons can do very bad things with it.
Stryke took a step back and put up his hands. Thats silver, man.
Tor studied the length of the scepter, then nodded. Yep, probably is. A good conductor of magic. I suspect a stone or some such fits in the prongs. Most likely the stone is required to activate the thing. Be thankful its missing. Here you go.
Dude, I am not touching that thing. Silver is
Ah, right. Sorry. But the silver has to actually enter your bloodstream to do you werewolves harm, right?
In theory. But I had a bad experience with a silver-tipped arrow last winter. He clutched his left biceps. Almost died. Im not taking any chances.
Yikes. Tor carefully set the scepter back in the box. Take it in the box, then.
So its cool sitting in this plain old brown box?
Should be. Tor tugged out the box and handed it to Stryke. But Id get it back to Hawkes Associates and secure it with wards as quickly as possible. Just to be safe.
Stryke thought he felt a wave of heat emanate from within the box and glow in his biceps. He winced. His brow began to sweat. His mouth dried. Flashes of last winter when the silver had fought to take his life disoriented him. But a healthy dose of wolfsbane had defeated the poison.
Stryke? You okay?
Huh? Uh, yes. Best to get the hell out of here fast. Thanks, man. Do I need to pay you?
Weve an account with Hawkes. Its all been taken care of. Nice to meet you, Saint-Pierre. Stay wary.
Really? Stryke asked, but Tor had already slipped around the side of the van and he heard the drivers door slam shut.
Wary, he muttered as the van pulled away.
Again he felt the heat emanate from within the box. You dont have to tell me that. Me and silver do not have a good history.
If he was going to run into more silver working for Rhys, hed have to start carrying some wolfsbane with him.
* * *
Blyss touched up her eyeliner in the mirror, drawing it out in a cats-eye tease. Her brows were tweezed and shaded to perfection. A hint of blush. And bright red lips. Her usual daytime look. She liked to look sexy, and yes, she knew she was pretty. Men told her as much all the time. But sometimes it was hard to justify the beauty when she knew a beast lurked within.
She shook her head at the mirrors reflection. Do not fall into those dark thoughts. Shed moved beyond such thinking and was managing her beast. Had been for years.
Only, now her life had started to unravel in incredible ways. Her supplier, Edamite Thrash, had always been kind and just with her, but even he could not put up with her missed payments. She was behind a year, and she needed to refill her supply soon. Only a few pills remained in the glass jar she kept on her vanity.
She must not allow the beast reign.
There was no questioning Edamites generosity by letting her go a year without paying. Shed had no choice but to divert her funds. Her father, well... She hoped he had learned a lesson and would never gamble again. But Blyss knew better.
Her bank account was in the red, and her social life was faltering. While usually she relied upon extravagant gifts from her lovers to seed her finances, she had not received a gift in months.
And shed been given a week to procure an item for Edamite. An item so valuable he would forgive her debt and cover her for the next years supply. An item that she had obtained and then placed in another persons care to divert suspicion. An item she must claim today so she could clear up matters with Ed.
She exhaled heavily, watching her shoulders slump in the mirror. Quickly, she corrected, pushing her shoulders back and lifting her chin.
Never let them see you suffer.
Shed worked too hard to establish her position among the humans. Blyss Sauveterre, Parisian socialite and gallery owner. Shed even been photographed with celebrities and had once made the gossip page after a weekend fling with a Russian duke.
She adjusted the combs, brushes and makeup on the vanity table before her so they lay straight and evenly spaced. She liked neatness. She was so close to avoiding a complete life catastrophe and smoothing over that annoying bump in her road. Control was her only means to relax.
Yet now Stryke Saint-Pierre had strolled into her life.