She stiffened, a very bad feeling replacing her fear. “The Oracles?”
“Si.” He grimaced, his hand shifting to push the damp strands of his hair from his face. “They have yet to catch on to the whole cell phone thing. Not that I could use one even if they did.”
Despite the heat of the water, Anna felt chilled as she slid off his lap and wrapped her arms around her waist.
“What did they say?”
His expression became shuttered. “I must leave you for a short time.”
“Leave me?”
“I hope I won’t be gone long, but…”
Anna surged to her feet, her stomach clenched with a sense of sick dread.
“Oh no, Conde Cezar, not again,” she hissed.
With a far more elegant motion, Cezar was standing directly before her, appearing like some god rising from the water as his bronzed skin glowed in the dim light.
“Anna, I must leave,” he said darkly. “When the Oracles call, no demon can ignore their commands. Not unless they’re in a hurry to be planted in their grave.”
She stepped back, until her legs hit the edge of the tub. She was furious, but the temptation to reach out and stroke that perfect bronze skin was nearly overwhelming.
“Oracles.” She gave a short, bitter laugh. “Jeez. At least think of a new excuse to dump me. God, I’m such an idiot. You’re the master of hit-and-run sex and still I let you…”
“God dammit, Anna, this is not some scheme to try to sneak away.” He easily closed the space between them, his hands reaching out to grasp her shoulders in a near painful grip. “If there were any way I could tell the Oracles to go to hell and stay here with you I would. And I swear on my very life that the moment I am free I will return to you here.”
“Like you did last time?”
He jerked as if she had slapped him, then without warning his hands lowered and he was sliding the heavy signet ring from his finger.
“Here.”
She frowned as he pressed the ring into her palm and closed her fingers tightly around it.
“What are you doing?”
“That ring has been upon my finger since I first awakened as a vampire. It’s an intimate part of me.”
“I still don’t understand.”
“You possess the blood of the ancients, elemental magic.” He peered deep into her eyes, his power tingling over her skin with a cool breeze. “With this ring you could find me no matter where I might be in the world. Just as Sybil was capable of following you. It would even call to me between dimensions.”
She frowned, glancing down at the heavy gold ring with its strange scrolling.
“How?”
“I have no talent for magic, but I know you possess the skills.” His finger slipped beneath her chin and tilted her face up to meet his stark expression. “Anna, I will return to you, I swear it.”
Instead of replying, Anna stepped out of the water and reached for one of the terry cloth robes that were placed neatly on a shelf. Tugging it on, she at last turned to regard him with a suspicious frown.
Deep inside, she knew innately that he wasn’t lying. She could physically sense the sincerity etched across his heart. But she had had two hundred years to build up a healthy distrust of this man. One bout of mind-blowing sex wasn’t going to erase that.
Maybe if they could have two or three bouts…
She abruptly thrust the distracting thought away.
“What do these Oracles want of you? And why now?”
“Who knows?” His expression hardened. “They rarely feel the need to explain their actions.”
“Are they very powerful?”
An odd, mysterious smile touched his lips. A smile that said he knew something she didn’t. “The most powerful of all demons.”
Powerful? She was suddenly struck with a brilliant thought. “Then maybe they could help me.”
Stepping from the tub, Cezar swiftly dried his smooth skin. “I will request their assistance, but don’t get your hopes up. The Oracles only interfere when they believe it their duty.”
The brief hope sputtered and died. “Convenient,” she retorted dryly.
The dark eyes flashed. “There’s nothing about the Commission that is convenient.”
She followed as Cezar returned to the obscenely large living room and watched as he tugged on his jeans and white shirt. For a moment she couldn’t concentrate on anything but the sight of the reverse strip-tease, shocked to discover it was as erotic as watching the clothes being taken off. Maybe the realization that he was commando beneath those tight black jeans had something to do with it.
Wondering how the room had suddenly become so hot, Anna cleared her throat and struggled to think of something beyond that hard male body.
“You said that the Oracles came for you that first night we were together.”
Tying his hair back with a leather thong, he gave a short nod. “Si.”
“Do you…are you one of them?”
His lips twisted in a strange, annoying smile. “I don’t have the power to become an Oracle, I’m merely a servant.”
She snorted at the ridiculous words. “You a servant?”
“I didn’t say I was a very good one.” Tugging on his boots, Cezar crossed to lightly touch the puncture marks on her neck. A strange thrill of pleasure raced through her. “Anna, I must go. If they are forced to call for me again I will be suffering for days.”
For a moment she tried to hold on to her suspicion. Maybe because it was her last line of defense against the potent obsession with this vampire that threatened to consume her. Then, heaving a deep sigh, she gave a nod. “Go.”
“I’ll have dinner sent to you.” He brushed a tender kiss over her lips before lifting his head and regarding her with a worried gaze. “Don’t leave these rooms. And if you need something there will be a guard at the door. If you scream she will come running.”
“She?”
“This place reeks of blood and sex. I’m not going to take any chances.”
With a last kiss that was far less tender and a lot more frustrated than the first, Cezar turned to walk toward the door. He had stepped over the threshold when she called out softly.
“Cezar.”
He paused. “What?”
“Be careful.”
Morgana glared down at the pretty demon that lay dead at her feet. The Adar had returned as commanded and then received his rightful reward.
Rightful as far as she was concerned.
Any low-blood demon who was stupid enough to believe he was worthy to taste the flesh of a queen deserved to die.
She had at least made it swift, if extraordinarily painful.
“Vampires?” She kicked the lifeless body. “What a waste of my time.”
Modron shuffled forward, her stench filling the small bedroom.
“The Adar seemed very certain that the lair hiding Sybil belonged to a vampire. A very powerful vampire who had more than one of his brethren in his company.” Her white eyes held an eerie glow in the dark room. “And we both know that Adars are never wrong.”
Morgana reached down and with an ease that was shocking for her slender, nearly delicate body, she lifted the Adar with one hand and tossed him through the window.
“Damn his rotten soul,” she hissed, watching as his body broke through the panes of glass. She wished the Adar wasn’t already dead. She firmly believed in killing the messenger when she didn’t like the news. “If it is vampires, why would they interfere in this? They care about nothing but their own kind.”
“How should I know?”
Morgana turned and slapped the hag across her ugly face. She was not in a good mood.
“Damn your disgusting hide, you’re a seer, aren’t you?”
Modron turned to spit blood on the floor, her wrinkled face filled with mocking amusement.
“My visions aren’t cable TV you can turn off and on with a remote. They come when they come.” She grimaced. “Besides, they never work on the undead. They’re a void to all mystics.”
Morgana cursed. She’d never liked vampires. Oh, they made extraordinary lovers, and no one could deny they were the most beautiful demons to walk the earth. But they were stubborn and unpredictable and far too domineering for her taste. Worse, they refused to bow to her will as was only proper for a queen.
“Fine, then I’ll take care of this myself.”
“You intend to confront the vampires?”
“Of course not, you idiot,” Morgana rasped, shaking back the sleeves of her silk robe. “Not even my powers could overcome an entire pack of the walking dead.”
“Then what do you intend to do?”
“If I can’t follow my prey then it seems I shall have to bring my prey to me. Hand me my dagger.”
Modron raised a gnarled finger. “No. You’re too weak…”
Morgana offered another slap across the face, this one hard enough to send the old woman flying into the wall.
“Worthless hag,” she seethed, crossing to the dresser where she had placed her most precious treasures. Choosing a dagger that had once belonged to a powerful sorcerer, and a wooden bowl, Morgana made her way to the bed and sat cross-legged on the bed.