How to Seduce a Vampire (Love at Stake 15)

There. A glimpse of brass glinting in the moonlight. One warrior. He was stealthy, Zoltan had to give him credit for that. The warrior had managed to sneak up on him, and that rarely happened.

Other than that, the warrior didn’t appear that impressive. Slim build. A little below the average height for a man. The brass breastplate wasn’t a good idea, since it reflected the moonlight and gave away his position. The helmet had a black horsehair plume running down the center and cheek and nose guards that covered most of the warrior’s face. He was equipped with bow and arrow, sword, and at least one knife that Zoltan could spot. The warrior looked fierce enough, but archaic, as if he should be sacking Troy, not wandering about Tibet.

The old arrowhead that had killed his father had come from ancient Greece.

Zoltan called out in Greek, “I come in—” He flattened himself on the rock a second before an arrow whooshed over his head. “Peace,” he whispered. The warrior wasn’t big, but he was quick and had excellent aim in the dark.

“Are you a vampire?” Zoltan yelled in Russian, then, leaving his arrow on the rock so his hands would be free, he teleported behind the warrior. Meanwhile, his foe answered his question by firing another arrow over the pile of boulders.

Zoltan breathed deeply, taking in the man’s scent. Rich with blood. AB negative. Human.

The warrior drew his sword, advancing slowly on the rocky outcropping.

Zoltan teleported behind the boulders and waited. “I come in peace,” he said in Hungarian as the warrior came into view. “Pax?” He jumped back to avoid a jab from the man’s sword. Dodging behind a tree, he tried Romanian and Serbian. Wood chips flew as the warrior’s sword struck the tree.

“Français? Deutsch?” He lunged to the ground and rolled as the sword made another swipe at him. “Dammit, I just want to talk!”

The warrior hesitated, his sword raised overhead.

Zoltan eased to his feet. “You understand English?”

The sword sliced down with a swoosh, and he leaped to the side. To hell with this. Zoltan lunged forward, seizing the warrior’s sword arm, then lifting it up and squeezing till the man gasped and dropped the weapon.

The warrior retaliated, using his left hand to grasp Zoltan around the throat. Strong fingers dug into his neck.

Zoltan grabbed the warrior’s wrist and wrenched his hand away. “You understand English, don’t you? Stop your attack.”

The warrior made a sound of frustration as he tried to free his hands from Zoltan’s grasp. He fell backward, taking Zoltan with him, then planted his feet in Zoltan’s stomach and shoved hard, flipping him over.

With a thud, Zoltan landed on his back. He rolled over and made a grab at his opponent. Unfortunately, his hands only caught hold of the man’s bow and quiver of arrows, and he ended up pulling them off the warrior’s back as the man jumped to his feet.

When the warrior made a dive for his sword, Zoltan leaped on the man’s back, smashing him into the ground. With a cry, the man reared back, clonking Zoltan in the head with the brass helmet.

“Ow!” Zoltan was stunned for only a second, but that was enough time for the warrior to wriggle free and make another lunge for the sword.

A trickle ran down Zoltan’s temple, and the smell of blood made him hiss. This had gone on long enough. With a roar, he jumped to his feet. Then using his vampire strength, he swung the warrior around and shoved him against a tree.

The brass helmet hit the tree hard, causing another gasp to escape the warrior. Zoltan pinned the man’s arms overhead and leaned close.

“Now cease your—” Zoltan stopped, taken aback by the eyes that glared at him. They were the bluest he’d ever seen. An improbable royal blue.

He moved to the side, just barely missing the man’s attempt to knee him in the groin. Still, the blow struck his hip hard, making him grunt in pain. Damn, what kind of warrior would go for a man’s groin?

He narrowed his eyes. The noises coming from the warrior had been a little high pitched. Could he be . . . ?

Zoltan released the man’s wrists and ripped the helmet off. Long black hair cascaded, falling past the warrior’s shoulders and framing a face that was delicate and feminine. An expression as stunned as his own. The helmet slipped from his hands, thudding on the ground at his feet, as he stood there, transfixed. She was exquisite. The most beautiful woman he’d—

“Aagh!” Her knee hit home, and Zoltan fell to his knees, doubling over.

She lunged to the ground to reclaim her sword.

“Dammit,” Zoltan growled as he seized one of her ankles and jerked her feet out from under her. She fell onto her side and rolled, lifting her sword overhead.

“Enough!” Gritting his teeth against the pain, Zoltan jumped on top of her, grasped her sword arm, and slammed it to the ground.

She went for his throat again with her left hand, but he grabbed her wrist and pinned it down. She wriggled beneath him, but he pressed his weight on top of her.

“Enough,” he whispered.

Her eyes widened, and she grew very still as she studied him.

He had a strange feeling she was assessing him. “How do you do? My name is Zoltan. And you are . . . ?”

She continued to stare at him.

“I’m afraid we got off to a bad start, but I assure you I mean you no harm.” He gently pried the sword from her hand and tossed it to the side. She didn’t object when he took hold of her wrist again. “Now that’s better. You were about to tell me your name . . . ?”

“You are extremely strong and fleet of foot,” she said softly, as if she was thinking out loud.

“So you do speak English.”

She frowned. “You are fair of face and seemingly intelligent.”

He winced. “Seemingly?”

“It is unclear.”

“Then allow me to clear it up for you. My intelligence is fine.”

She gave him a look that seemed to indicate he’d just proven his lack thereof. “It was not wise of you to come here.”

He snorted. At least she thought he was fair of face. “Actually, I thought it was very clever of me to find you.” Even if it had taken him eight hundred years. “I have some questions, you see, regarding an arrow—” He glanced toward the rocky outcropping where he’d left the arrow and froze.

A snow leopard crouched on the rocks, ready to pounce.

Slowly, never taking his eyes off the wildcat, Zoltan eased off the young woman and reached for her sword. “When I stand, back away. Then run home as fast as you can.”

“You intend to protect me?” she asked. “Why? I was trying to kill you.”

“Yes, but you failed.” He glanced at her, giving her a wry smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t hold it against you.”

Her eyes widened and she lay very still, staring at him.

Maybe he’d shoved her around too hard. She seemed stunned. He gave her a little shake. “You should go home now, okay? I’ll take care of this.” He’d protected people for almost eight hundred years, so it wasn’t something he questioned anymore. He simply did it.

He straightened, facing the pile of boulders with the sword clenched in his hands.

The snow leopard hissed.

“You’re very brave,” the woman said behind him.

“Seemingly,” he muttered, lifting the sword. “Now back away slowly.”

Pain exploded in his head as something slammed into the back of his skull. He fell forward, dropping the sword. Why? The word skittered around his aching brain just before everything went black.

“Good kitty.” Neona rubbed the young snow leopard’s ears. “Although I should fuss at you for breaking that twig. You ruined my surprise attack.”

The eight-month-old leopard butted its head against her leg.

“Well, you did make up for it, so you’re forgiven. That was very clever of you, pretending you were going to pounce on us.” She smoothed a hand down Zhan’s spotted back.

The snow leopard had become her companion after she’d found him seven months earlier while on guard duty. She’d taken the kitten home, where two of the women had been able to communicate with him. Zhan’s mother and littermates had been killed by a pack of wolves, and he had managed to survive by crawling into a rabbit hole.

Even though Neona didn’t possess the gift of communicating with animals, Zhan clearly preferred her to the other women. Probably because she was the one who had rescued him and nurtured him back to health. She suspected the cat still had enough wildness to dislike the other women’s ability to read his mind.