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His back bowed and he realized he was about fifteen seconds away from coming. Maybe a quickie …
His phone buzzed.
Shit.
She eased back but even as she did, he caught sight of her lips, swollen and red. Her eyes danced with fire.
He kept an arm around her waist as he slid his phone from his pocket. “Give.” His voice sounded hoarse.
“Hey, Medichi. Jeannie here. Good news. We’ve found it, that heavy dome of mist again. Double dome, I guess.”
“Where?”
“Just like you said. The Mediterranean. South of France. Outside of Toulouse Two.”
He took a deep breath because suddenly he couldn’t breathe. “Great. Thanks. I’ll gather the troops. Maybe five minutes.”
“I’ll be ready.”
Jeannie always was. She’d served a long time at Central. In the old days—and that was only a century or so ago—she’d held mind-links with the Warriors of the Blood, taking and receiving messages. It was an exhausting job, and the modern inventions of the phone, then the grid, saved so much time and energy. She always worked a twelve-hour shift, serving alongside the Warriors of the Blood. There were others, Carla, for instance, but for the men, Jeannie was the one.
He thumbed his phone and slid it into his pocket. Funny how a brief conversation could take the edge off even the most profound erection.
“So it’s happening?” she asked.
“Hell, yes.”
Parisa moved away from him and all that beautiful tangerine scent faded. Her gaze fell to the floor, and he could feel her sudden anxiety like a whiff of smoke in the air.
“You’ll be all right,” he said, his voice firm. “Just stay at my back. Don’t try to wage war if it comes to that. Use the dagger if you get up close enough but only if you can do serious damage.”
She drew a breath. “Because an adversary can take the weapon away and use it against me.”
“Exactly.”
She lifted her gaze to him. “I’m not ready, am I?”
He wouldn’t lie to her. “No. Not by half. But it doesn’t matter, does it?”
She shook her head. “No. Not at all. I’m going on this mission no matter what. I wanted to have some skills but I know it’ll take years to be a capable warrior. That isn’t what this is about.”
He nodded. “I know. Just remember, you’ve got a good throwing arm. You’re one of the best I’ve ever seen. Use it if you think you can make a difference. That’s what these weapons are for.”
She drew in a deep breath and held her arms out. “Is everything in place?”
His gaze unfortunately fell to her chest, emphasized by all the leather and buckles. “Oh, yeah.”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, Mr. Subtle. Let’s just get this show on the road.”
He chuckled. He put a hand on her shoulder and without telling her what he intended, folded her back to the Cave.
When she arrived, she yelled, “Hey! Give a girl a warning. I’m so not used to that.” She shook herself like a dog coming out of the water then patted her arms.
“Sorry. But you seem so comfortable in our world. I keep forgetting.”
Sometimes you need to smash your enemy into the ground,
Or at least try.
—Braulio, former leader of the Warriors of the Blood, 3334 BC
Chapter 13
Parisa might have argued with Antony but they weren’t alone. Zach stood near the pool table, his thick curly hair drawn away from his face, tucked away in the cadroen but flared over his back as though the clasp couldn’t contain it all. His eyes were his best feature, cornflower blue, thickly fringed with black lashes. There wouldn’t be a woman in the world not jealous of those lashes. His lips were full, his nose curved, even sexy. He was the usual warrior height, which Havily had once told her was six-five. None of the warriors was shorter than that.
Jean-Pierre looked unsettled, his eyes floating back and forth. He hooked a thumb in the waistband of his kilt and scowled then shifted on his feet. Something was bugging him, but she didn’t know him well enough to either guess at the problem or ask about it.
Santiago crossed from the brown leather sofa on the right and moved to stand in front of her. He took hold of her hand. “It is my pleasure to serve you, Parisa.” He bowed over her hand and placed a kiss on her fingers.
She felt Antony move in tighter to her back. She could feel a growl rumble through his chest.
Santiago looked up from his bent position and grinned. What a tease. He drew back abruptly when the growl left Antony’s throat. She glanced over her shoulder and stared at him. “You’re going to start that now?”
He offered her one as well, a warning. She turned a little more, still holding his gaze, and thought for just a moment that he was not just a man but a vampire as well. His deepest instincts had shifted when he ascended. She had to keep reminding herself that she was ascended now, that she had entered the world of the vampire, and that she was no longer on Mortal Earth.
She patted his cheek. “Okay, down, Fido.”
She had meant it as a joke, but Antony grabbed her hand and where Santiago had kissed her fingers he licked a long slow line. She gasped. She understood his intention but all she could feel was the softness of his tongue.
Her body gripped low and tight. Antony slung an arm around her waist and kissed her hard on the mouth. She knew he was marking her, claiming her, and part of her wanted to protest this absurd caveman behavior but her body was one complete betrayal of thought.
Tangerine, he whispered through her mind.
Sage, she responded.
Jean-Pierre cleared his throat. “I do not mean to disrespect this petite love-fest, but we need to be going, non?”
Antony released her, his dark eyes flashing. “Yes.” But he turned to Santiago first. “Don’t ever do that again.”
Santiago shook his head. “Madre de Dios,” he cried, both hands tossed in the air. “I keep forgetting the breh-hedden has command of you in this way. Lo siento.”
“Apology accepted.” He took in a deep breath and let it out. “Jeannie has the location in the south of France. We all know the drill. We have no way of knowing whether the enemy has troops in position, but we’re going in armed as though the place will be crawling with death vamps. I’ll keep Parisa at my back. When we touch down, she’s going to try to contact Fiona and we’ll go from there. Everyone ready?”
Three nods. Four, including Parisa.
“Let’s go.”
