“Huge brute,” Cora Lee interrupted with a smirk.
Was he really huge? Pamela shoved that disturbing thought aside. “We all know a man’s size is totally irrelevant. What matters is his mind-control ability.”
Princess Joanna nodded. “Indeed. We need to make the acquaintance of a gentleman who is skilled at vampire sex.”
“Like Roman.” Cora Lee sighed. “I do declare he could satisfy us all in ten minutes.”
“Exactly,” Pamela agreed. “It was very time-efficient. And wonderfully private. The entire experience is so much more refined when it’s conducted purely as a mental exercise.”
Cora Lee nodded. “We could stay in our own rooms. And we didn’t even have to take off our clothes.”
“And it was never messy, like physical sex.” Pamela grimaced. “No grasping, sweaty hands pawing you all over.”
Maria Consuela shuddered. “Evil.”
“There was a time when I think I actually enjoyed real sex.” Princess Joanna waved a hand in the air. “But that was centuries ago, and I have long forgotten.”
“It is best left forgotten,” Pamela said. The thought of having a man physically invade her body—it was far too shocking. Too raw and frightening.
But wasn’t she trying to get over her cowardice?
“So what happens now?” Cora Lee asked. “Are you going to meet them tomorrow night?”
“Surely, one night of wild behavior will suffice,” Princess Joanna said. “It is far too dangerous for you to continue with this folly.”
Pamela swallowed hard. She had to be brave. She couldn’t wallow in cowardice for another century. Or even another night. “VampWoman will return.”
Chapter Four
“YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE come,” Zoltan announced the next evening after Lady Pamela teleported into his parlor in Budapest.
With a silent squeal of triumph, Pamela congratulated herself on finding the men. Back home, while donning her costume, she’d worried about being able to locate them. But since Zoltan was the Coven Master of Eastern Europe, she’d decided his home was a good place to start. She’d been here before to attend a party, so the location was embedded in her psychic memory.
“Good evening.” She smiled at Zoltan, who stood next to the fireplace. “Gentlemen.” She nodded at Jack and J.L., who lounged in nearby chairs, frowning at her. A pile of sheathed swords and knives rested on a coffee table.
Where was . . . the back of her neck prickled as if touched by an icy breeze. Or was it the frigid glare of pale blue eyes? She spun about, her black silk cape rippling through the air.
Mikhail was leaning against the doorjamb, his arms crossed over his massive chest, his eyes glittering like broken shards of icicles. Heat spread like flames throughout her body, causing her face to flush. How could such a cold brute make her feel like she was melting?
A corner of his mouth curled up.
Arrogant oaf. How dare he assume he was the cause of her blush? Even though he was. But as annoyed as she was, she couldn’t help but notice the dimple caused by his half smile. And what a wide, sensuous mouth he had. Finely sculpted lips, too. Lips that had come so close to kissing her. Don’t think about it! With a blink, she forced her gaze back to his eyes.
Dear God, no. He was ogling her again, lingering over every dip and curve of her body. Her skin tingled beneath the black spandex, and the costume felt suddenly tighter, constricting her to the point she could scarcely breathe. His eyes met hers, and he slowly smiled.
With a flourish of her cape, she turned her back to him. Blast him! He enjoyed unnerving her.
He said something in a foreign language that made Zoltan chuckle. It must be Hungarian. She hadn’t thought about it till now, but the oaf’s English was quite good. And he’d spoken in Albanian to a Malcontent the night before. He was surprisingly well educated for a barbarian, and that unnerved her even more.
She squared her shoulders and adjusted her utility belt. “Pray tell, where will our mission take us tonight?”
“We’re waiting for a report to come in from Dubrovnik,” Zoltan replied. “We believe the Malcontents are hiding a group of human captives in a warehouse near the docks. We need to rescue them before they’re loaded onto a ship.”
A lump of alarm rose in her throat, and she swallowed hard. This mission could easily turn violent. But wasn’t this what she had trained for? She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Tonight, she would prove she was no coward. When her companions needed her, she would not turn tail and run.
“As soon as we get the call, we’re leaving,” Zoltan continued, then gave her a pointed look. “And you will not be coming with us.”
“Of course I will. I’m part of the team.”
“No, milady, you are not,” Jack said softly.
“You don’t work for MacKay S and I,” J.L. added.
“I’m a free agent,” she insisted. “I’m here to help you, and I will not be dismissed!”
“Lady Pamela.” Zoltan gave her an exasperated look. “We only wish to keep you safe.”
“Your presence could endanger us all.” Jack stood and selected a sword from the coffee table. “If we’re forced to protect you—”
“I can take care of myself.” She planted her fists on her hips. “I am up to the challenge.”
“Are you?” a deep voice spoke behind her, and she pivoted to face him.
Mikhail walked toward her, watching her with a predatory gleam in his eyes. “If I remember correctly, you frighten very easily.”
Her heart sped up, pounding in her chest.
His gaze dropped to her mouth. “Are you certain you won’t . . . disappoint?”
Was he alluding to their almost kiss? How dare he! She lifted her chin. “I will not abandon my teammates.”
He focused on her br**sts, which made her even more breathless and tingly. “You’re afraid. I can hear your heart racing.”
“That’s not fear! It’s—” Good heavens! She stopped herself in the nick of time.
His eyes met hers in a flash, and the intensity of his look took her breath away. He tilted his head, searching her face.
She jumped when a phone rang.
“That should be my informant.” Zoltan pulled a cell phone from his jacket pocket, while Jack and J.L. quickly armed themselves. “I’ll turn on the speakerphone, so we can teleport to his voice.”
Excellent! Pamela faced him, mentally steeling her nerves for battle.
The phone rang again, and Zoltan frowned at her. “Mikhail, get her out of here. I’ll call you in sixty seconds, so you can join us.”
“What?” Pamela gasped when Mikhail grabbed her from behind. Before she could react, everything went black.
As soon as she materialized, she jumped into action. A sharp jab in his ribs with her right elbow as she spun to face him, then a left punch in the—“Ouch!”
The man’s stomach was like a slab of concrete.
“Are you all right?” He grabbed her hand.
Before he could remove her glove, she yanked her hand away. Balling her fists, she bounced back on the balls of her feet, then aimed a quick roundhouse kick at his chest. He nabbed her ankle and tugged, making her lose her balance. As she started to fall, he grabbed her and pulled her hard against him.
“Oof.” She caught her breath, her nose pressed against his chest. He smelled surprisingly clean for a barbarian. As she splayed her hands against his stomach, preparing to shove him away, she realized he wasn’t as smooth and cold as a concrete slab. He was warm and rippled. With muscles.
He held her tight, his arms banded around her shoulders. She resisted an urge to snuggle against him. It was tempting, so tempting. What if he wasn’t a barbarian after all?
She glanced up at him. “What did you say to Zoltan that he found so amusing?”
A corner of Mikhail’s mouth lifted, causing the dimple to reappear. “It was a compliment.”
“About me?”
“Of course.” His left hand slid beneath her cape and down her spine to her utility belt. “I was admiring you from . . . behind.” His hand curved around her rump.
“Stop that!” When she attempted to push away, his hand flexed on her buttock, pulling her closer. How could she have ever doubted he was a barbarian? “How dare you!”
He gave her another squeeze.
If only she could slap that amused look off his face, but both her arms were pinned against his chest. She stomped her boot on his foot.
He merely looked annoyed. “Do I need to tie you to the bedpost?”
“You wouldn’t dare—bedpost?” She glanced over her shoulder and flinched. A massive, canopy bed dominated a room filled with bookcases and tables and large leather chairs. “You—you brought me to your bedroom?”
“This is the cellar of my hunting lodge.”
She glanced at the huge bed again. Of course it was huge. The man was huge. “This is highly inappropriate.”
“I had to take you somewhere.”
“You should have taken me to my bedroom.”
His mouth twitched. “Is that an invitation?”
“No! I meant my home. In London.” She scanned the room once more. This was a hunting lodge? It was as well furnished as her townhouse. And he certainly owned a great number of books . . . for a barbarian.
He released her and stepped back. “If I knew the way to your home, I would have taken you there. You should go there now.”
And give up on her dream? “No, I’m coming with you.”
“No. You’re going home, where you’ll be safe.”
“I refuse.” She lifted her chin. “I will not take the coward’s way out.”
His eyes hardened like ice as he stepped toward her. “Then you’d better be brave because if you’re still here when I return, I will tie you to the bedpost. After I strip you—” His phone rang.
Her heart thundered in her ears so loud, she couldn’t hear him answer the phone. He would strip her? And tie her to the bedpost?
“Pam!”
She jumped when she realized he was talking to her.
“The guys need me. Go! Quickly!”
The guys were in need? She vanished and materialized silently behind Mikhail.
“Okay, she’s gone,” he said into the phone. “I’m coming.”
She leaped on his back just before he disappeared.
DAMN IT TO hell! As soon as Mikhail materialized, he pried away the hands that were gripped around his neck. She was the most stubborn, disobedient woman he’d ever met. He should have tied her. And stripped her. She wouldn’t have pulled this stunt if she were nak*d. But then he wouldn’t have answered the phone . . .
“Merda,” Jack whispered. “Why did you bring her?”
He gritted his teeth as he turned to glare at Pam, who stood behind him with a defiant look on her face. “You little—” His anger froze when he spotted several dozen armed Malcontents streaming through the double doors of the warehouse, headed straight toward him and his companions.
A quick scan of their surroundings confirmed the gravity of the situation. They were blocked on three sides by heavy metal containers. They could fight or flee. Zoltan, Jack, and J.L. had their swords drawn, ready to fight, but Pamela’s sudden appearance was making them hesitate.
She drew her sword. “Let’s do it.”
Mikhail noticed a second-floor balcony to the right. He grabbed Pam and teleported her onto the balcony.
As soon as they materialized, she hit him on the chest and opened her mouth to berate him.
He clapped a hand over her mouth and turned her so she could see the men below. “I didn’t take you away,” he whispered. “Stay here, stay hidden, and keep out of trouble.”
He unsheathed his broadsword and teleported quietly behind the group of Malcontents. With a war cry, he attacked from the rear. Zoltan, Jack, and J.L. charged from the other end. The warehouse echoed with the clanging of swords and screams of the wounded.
Wounded? Mikhail tended to kill the enemy so quickly, there was no time for a scream. And he’d learned from experience never to leave wounded in his wake, for they could rally and attack from the rear. The screams appeared to be coming from the middle of the Malcontent pack.
He spotted flashes of silver metal streaking down from the balcony. It was Pam! She was hurling ninja stars down at the Malcontents. The crazed woman! It was only a matter of time before one of the Malcontents teleported up there to terminate her actions. By terminating her.
With another war cry, he accelerated his attack, lopping off heads at vampire speed. He needed to keep the Malcontents focused on him, so they would forget the wild woman on the balcony.
When less than a dozen Malcontents remained, his worst fear happened. One of them vanished and reappeared on the balcony. Mikhail’s heart lurched when he saw the Malcontent’s sword slash down at Pam. She dodged the blow, then jumped back and readied her sword.
Mikhail teleported beside her. “Stay back.” He shoved her behind him and lunged forward to attack the Malcontent. He jabbed him in the heart, dusting him, then heard an ominous crash behind him. He spun about to find that another Malcontent had attempted to stab him in the back. Pam had deflected the blow, but it had taken both her hands to wield her sword and all her strength to knock aside the thrust meant for him. The Malcontent took instant advantage and sliced her left arm with his knife.
With a cry, she fell to her knees. Mikhail beheaded the Malcontent, then grabbed her as she crumpled on the floor.
“Why?” he gasped as he slapped a hand over her wound. Blood seeped between his fingers. “Why couldn’t you stay hidden like I asked you?”
Her face paled to a deathly white. “I—I will not abandon my teammates.”
Crazy, foolish . . . beautiful woman. The pain clouding her lavender-blue eyes struck a blow to his heart more sharp than any sword. If it took an eternity, he’d make sure she was never injured again. He would protect her. And love her. And if it made him vulnerable, so be it. He would not give her up.