“Wakey-wakey, sweetheart,” Ric said, shaking her shoulder.
Sophie rolled over, burying her head under the pillow. Her head felt like a block of cement and her stomach hurt. “Noooo. Tired. Leave me alone.”
“But, sweetcheeks, I’m in the mood to celebrate,” he said, sounding much too happy for a dead undead guy.
Sweetcheeks? What kind of name was that to call her? “Celebrate what?” she grumbled into the darkness. “You’re dead. Remember? A ghost. That doesn’t sound like something worth celebrating to me. How am I going to help Dao now? All by myself? I can’t fight a dragon. Dao’s gonna die, just like you did.”
“I’m not dead.” He sat next to her. The bed creaked as his weight tested the worn springs. Ghosts didn’t make springs creak, did they? “You saved me.”
“I did?” Nursing a major migraine all of a sudden, she blinked open her eyes, squinting against the glare of the lamp behind Ric. “You’re not dead?”
“Nope.”
Shielding her eyes from the lamplight so her head wouldn’t explode, she sat up and shifted her position so she could look at his face. It looked healthy and handsome and so very alive. She was thrilled! She was overjoyed! She was…pissed! She smacked him. When he didn’t look adequately chastised, she hit him again, and again, and again, punctuating each strike with a single word. “How. Could. You. Do. That. To. Me!”
“It was the second step. I said you’d know what to do when the time came. See? Nothing to worry about.”
“Nothing to worry about?” Despite the fact that the world spun like a Tilt-A-Whirl whenever she moved, she jumped up and smacked him some more. “Nothing to worry about? You were dead and I almost didn’t save you. I passed out! What if I’d failed? What would’ve happened to Dao?” This time, her strikes were harder, as her fear and anger worked their way out of her system. Each smack thumped dully against his chest. “Huh? What would’ve you done then, big, bad bloodsucker? What if I’d fainted before I stuck my freaking bloody finger in your mouth? What if I’d been too chicken to cut myself? What if my razor’d been too dull…?” She stomped away, stared blindly out the window. “Men! Gah!” She heard him follow her to the window. Despite the fact that she was fuming, awareness and longing shimmied up her spine.
“Doesn’t matter. I knew you were ready. You didn’t fail.”
Not happy with his answer, Sophie slumped forward, pressed her forehead against the cool glass and crossed her arms over her chest, shooting him “that wasn’t nice” barbs from her eyes as she tipped her head. She could see he wasn’t sorry, not at all. Sure, he didn’t go as far as beaming a smile at her, but he wasn’t doing a very good job at hiding one either. Infuriating man! Sexy, hunky, infuriating man.
Ric gently uncurled her fingers from around her upper arm. Clearly trying to cool her anger, he kissed each fingertip. It wasn’t working. Nuh-uh! Neither was that pitiful look he had on his face, the one that said, “Don’t be mad, I adore you.” She’d be good and angry for a long time. He flipped her hand over and traced a wet line down her palm, then up her wrist. Little tickles did the cha-cha along her nerve endings.
Mad. She was mad. Very mad. Seething mad.
“I checked on your friend, Dao. Found the phone number in your purse. He’s okay. Sounds a little shaky but he’s still alive. Your Ancient One says as long as Dao’s not confused, still knows who you are, who he is, you still have time.” His expression changed from all business to seductive; his eyes shifted from a warm brown to a soft gold. Her hand still cradled in his left hand, he lifted his other to her face, palmed her cheek, traced her lower lip with his thumb. “You’re so sexy when you’re mad.”
“No, I’m not. I’m intimidating. I’m damn scary.”
He called Dao? Wasn’t that sweet? Her heart did a happy little pitter-patter but she forced it to return to normal rhythm.
Mad. She had to stay mad. At least another thirty seconds, if she was going to have any hope of teaching the lughead not to do something so stupid ever again.
“Oh, yes.” He nodded. “Sexy and intimidating. Most definitely.”
“Quit humoring me,” she said flatly. “I hate that. Makes me madder…” She noted the pleased look on his face. “…which is what you want? You masochist! Grrr! Men! Vampires! You’re all crazy.”
“Yes, we are. That’s why we can’t stay away from adorable, sexy, amazing, infuriating, stubborn women like you.”
“Humph. I should be insulted.”
“No, you shouldn’t. I said infuriating and stubborn.” He flashed a grin that nearly brought her to her infuriating, stubborn knees. “Come.” He flattened her hand to his forearm, encouraging her to grip it. “Let’s go celebrate. My treat. You must be starving. How about some dinner? I’ll tell you what I found out while you were taking your nap—”
“Dinner? I don’t think I could eat. I’m too mad at you right now for almost dying—wait! Did you say dinner? What happened to breakfast? What day of the week is it?” She glanced at the clock. “Six in the morning? You woke me at six A.M.? That’s plain not right.” She let go of his arm, marched back to the bed, and made herself comfy-cozy. She knew they couldn’t go anywhere during the day. Why would he wake her up so early? “You vampire types keep some crazy hours. Wake me at eight, no earlier. My head’s about to explode like an atom bomb and I need to recover from the shock of your almost dying, never mind the insult of your humoring me when I was genuinely upset….”
“I’m so sorry, baby.” He completely obliterated every one of her defenses when he sat on the bed and pulled her into a warm hug. She sagged against him, grateful for his warmth, his support. Him. She was grateful for him. “I wished I could’ve warned you but the second step is a test of trust. I had to trust you would know what to do. And I had to trust that you’d have the strength to do it. You did.”
“But I was scared.”
“And very brave and smart. I’m proud of how quickly you figured out what to do. Look at me. I’m good as new. Because of you, because you’re so intelligent and brave and giving,” Ric consoled. “Now come on, it’s six P.M.,” he corrected. “You’ve been out for a while. You’re dehydrated, which is why your head hurts, and you need to eat before we get going.” He rubbed her shoulder; then when she refused to move, he gave her thigh a smack. “Get up! You’re not going to feel better until you drink and eat. Remember? You’re here for your friend. What good will you be to him if you collapse?”
“Fine, fine! You’d better be right because I swear I’m dying from meningitis. Maybe that razor blade was dirty and I got blood poisoning. Oh my God! I didn’t think about sterilizing it.” Sophie reluctantly let Ric go so he could stand, and she stared at the glaring red numbers on the clock. “Six at night? See? I’m sick, dying. I never sleep more than eight hours. I’d have to be near death to have slept that long. That’s like twenty hours. Shit! I can’t believe I wasted so much time.”
“It’s okay. I promise.” Ric didn’t look too impressed or worried. “And you’re not sick. I would know.”
“How would you know?”
“I would feel it too. The second step has brought us closer and although we are not completely joined, if something is wrong with either of us, the other will know. You slept for so long because you were simply worn out, exhausted.”
“But I should be helping—”
“I’ve been working while you slept. I’ll fill you in later.”
“Yeah, yeah. You keep saying that but you never tell me anything. I’m beginning to wonder if you’re keeping me in the dark on purpose—forgive the pun.”
“This time I promise I’ll tell you everything. Let’s get you dressed.” While she dragged herself across the room to check herself for signs of infection in the bathroom mirror—like a rash, a flush from fever—he went to her suitcase, which was sitting on top of the dresser, her clothes a disorganized heap on top. He picked out her sexy black teddy. “Oooh. Nice. How about you wear this?” He held it up to get a better look.
She flipped on the bathroom light, wincing at the jackhammers drilling her skull from the inside. “I think I’ll need to wear more than that if I’m going to stay out of jail—that is, if I don’t end up in the hospital first. Owwwww.”
“Fine, fine.” He sighed melodramatically. “I guess you’d better wear some more conservative clothes.” He chose a pair of cropped jeans and a knit top, handed them to her, along with the toothbrush he found in the pocket of her suitcase, next to her other female necessities.
“That’s better.” She brushed her teeth, found some clean underwear, then plopped her bottom back on the bed again, her pounding head sandwiched between her hands. “Speaking of better, do you have any drugs? I can’t eat like this. I can’t think like this. I can’t even walk like this.”
“Nope. Sorry, sweetie. Want me to go down to the lobby and get something? They probably have aspirin in the vending machine.”
“Yes. That would be wonderful. Thank you. It’ll give me time to get myself pretty for you, take a quick shower. Who knows, maybe some scalding water’ll ease the pounding.”
“Fair enough. I’ll be back in a few.” He brushed his mouth over hers in a soft kiss that momentarily had her thinking about much more pleasant ways to cure an excruciating headache. Didn’t she read somewhere that nookie cured headaches? “While you’re dressing, you might want to pack up. Once we’ve made sure you’ve had enough to eat, we’ve got to hit the road. It’s a long drive to Chicago.”
More surprises? She didn’t want any more surprises. She was tired of surprises. Weary of them. Eager for a boring, humdrum day. But at least they were getting somewhere! That made her breathe a little easier. “Chicago? I thought we weren’t going to meet that man. He’s a dragon.”
“He is. But Julian says it’s the only way we’ll find the spear and shield.”
“Julian? Who’s Julian?”
“Julian Tsiaris. Your Ancient One. That’s his real name. He’s coming too, is meeting us in an hour. So hustle up. We’re planning on hitting the road by seven. We vampire types prefer traveling after dark. It’s a little easier on the skin, if you know what I mean.”
“You mean I’m going to spend the next who knows how many hours trapped in a car with the both of you?” she asked, dragging herself back into the bathroom.
“Yep.”
“Oh, man.” The pain in her head increased tenfold. “You’d better hurry up with those drugs, then. A double dose of vamp testosterone? I can just imagine what kind of hell that’ll be.” She smiled. “We’re really getting closer to finding the artifacts?”
“Yes, we are.”
“Thank God!”
“What’ll it be? Fries, cheeseburger?” Ric twisted his neck to glance at Julian, who sat beside him in the passenger seat.
Julian lifted his brows in response. “I don’t consume human food. You do? And I have seen you travel by day as well. Have you begun the Second Death?”
Great. Now that was all he needed, one small piece of information the Ancient One could use against him. Fortunately, it wouldn’t do the Ancient One much good, yet. While Ric hadn’t started the Second Death, he was close enough to begin feeling a few of the effects. His power wasn’t what it had been a few decades ago. He was paying the price for living with the humans. Blending in with the mortals—walking in daylight, eating, drinking, mimicking breathing and a pulse—they all came with a price for his people. A very dear price.
“Second Death? What—Second—Death?” Sophie asked behind him, nudging his shoulder once for each word. When he didn’t respond, because he knew it would only make her more fearful, she turned to Julian and sighed. “Tell me. Please. Mr. Can’tsharemysecrets won’t talk.”
“I’m sorry I brought it up,” Julian mumbled. “Did I say death? I meant Second Debt.”
“Nice try, Julius Caesar.” Sophie said, using the nickname she’d bestowed upon him since they’d left the hotel.
“My name’s Julian, not Julius. Caesar was a spineless—”
“Hold up!” Sophie said, from the backseat. “You knew Julius Caesar? Like the real Caesar? The guy with the leaves on his head? Exactly how old are you?”
“A man never divulges his true age,” Julian rebutted, sounding injured. “And he didn’t wear leaves—”
“Sweetcheeks!” Ric interrupted, his arm hanging out the window, the buzzing voice on the restaurant’s drive-through intercom grating on his nerves. All he wanted to do was get their food and get back on the road. Why was that so difficult?
“What? Have I told you how much I hate that nickname? I don’t have sweet cheeks.”
“That’s a matter of opinion. What do you want to eat? I think the woman in there is either going to fall asleep waiting for us to finish placing our order or kill me with annoying feedback from her microphone. Please, forget about that other thing. Give me your order.”
“I’d like the truth, please. With a side of patience.”
“Funny. Now what do you really want? You’re the only one here who needs to eat this stuff. Do you want me to leave?”
“No, no. I’m starving—thanks to having to be the food source for the likes of you. I’ll have a burger, fries, milkshake. Do they sell strings of garlic, by any chance?”
Two not-so-amused vampires scoffed at her joke. Ric shouted her order into the metal box serving as a speaker, then made several corrections to their messed-up order—how hard could it be to get two burgers, a couple orders of fries, one milkshake, and one soda correct?
Once their order was confirmed, he pulled up to the second window to pay and collect the paper bags full of food.
“If you want to pull over, I’ll take over the wheel while you eat,” Julian offered, sending Ric’s suspicions to the fore again. Was it an innocent offer, or an underhanded attempt to either delay their arrival in Chicago or make sure they arrived at just the right time to be greeted by the lamiae welcome wagon?
Although Julian hadn’t done anything all night to prove he was a threat, Ric wasn’t about to just accept his seemingly new friendship with open arms. Put on an act? Sure. But he had too much at stake to completely trust the Ancient One, even if they were known for always speaking the truth. There were lies by commission and omission. There was nothing stopping the reportedly 2,100-year-old vampire from committing the latter.
He just needed to keep any vital information from reaching Julian’s ear, not easy with Sophie asking questions.
“I’ll be fine. Thanks anyway.” He steered the car back into traffic, heading toward the freeway entrance ramp. Once on the highway, it was no problem eating and driving. That was what a knee was for.
The food didn’t keep Sophie quiet for long, ten minutes tops, and then she was back to asking the kinds of questions he knew she wasn’t ready to hear the answers to—and questions he definitely didn’t want Julian to hear the answers to either.
“What’s the Second Death?” she asked again.
Julian gave Ric a guilty shrug. Was that honest guilt or feigned? “Sorry. Wasn’t thinking.”
After swallowing a sigh of irritation, Ric said, “It’s the final death.”
“What made Julian ask you if you were dying?”
“Because I can eat food and walk in sunlight,” he explained.
“Interesting. Let’s talk about that eating thing,” Sophie said, wedging her body between the two front seats. “This is the first time I’ve seen you eat and it raises some interesting questions. For instance, I thought you said if I turned into one of you vampy types, I wouldn’t be able to eat food anymore.”
“You won’t,” Julian said.
“Why not? If he can eat, why couldn’t I? That doesn’t seem fair.” Sophie sounded sulky.
Ric peered in the rearview mirror. Oh, yeah. She was pouting. He adored the way her bottom lip protruded just enough to be tempting when she pouted. He could imagine the effect it must have had on her parents when she was a child. He knew for a fact that if they had a beautiful little girl with her glistening mahogany hair, expressive eyes, and full lips he’d be powerless to do anything but give her her heart’s desire.
Good thing they weren’t going to be producing any children. They’d have to complete all the steps of the marriage ritual before they could do that. And that was not going to happen. The second step was as far as he would let them go, if he had any control over it.
No marriage. No children.
“You wouldn’t be able to eat because you would be a young Wissenschaft and as a young Wissenschaft you would lack the power to do so,” Ric explained.
The bottom lip slipped back into place. What a shame.
“Okay. But eventually, I’d be able to eat again, right? Like in a few months or so?”
“No, not months. Many, many years.” He wadded up the wrapper for his sandwich and crushed it into the bag. “Remember, I’m no infant. I’m several hundred years old.”
“And don’t look a day over thirty,” Sophie said, leaning over to nibble on his earlobe. The French fry that was halfway down his throat stopped at midchest level, and one certain part south of the waist went rock hard in two seconds flat, putting thought of anything but sliding it into her slick canal from his mind. He swallowed. Hard.
“Just wait until I get you alone,” he growled, trying to make some adjustments down below while driving—no easy task. “I’ll make you pay for that.”
“For what?” she whispered in his ear. “This?” Her tongue rimmed his outer ear, then plunged inside, making his body rigid from scalp to big toe.
“Hmmm. Does this mean you’re finished being angry with me for earlier?” he asked.
“Not on your life, buddy. I’ll be furious for at least another ten seconds.” She giggled, letting him know she wasn’t even remotely close to being furious. “Actually, it means I’m trying to use my feminine wiles to get what I want.”
“Ah, I see.”
Giggling again, she sat back and resumed her line of questioning. “So, eating real food leads to death?”
“No, not exactly,” Ric said, wishing she’d be distracted by something, anything. Wishing he was in a position to distract her. He could think of a thing or two that would take all thought of eating and clear it from her mind.
“That’s all you’re going to say?” She sat forward again and ran her tongue down the side of his neck, and he sucked in an audible gulp of air.
“Yes,” he said, his voice wavering. His will, too.
“Nothing more?” she asked, now nibbling on his neck. Nipping, licking, driving him crazy. His erection pushed against the front of his pants. His testicles became heavy.
“No,” he half spoke, half ground out through gritted teeth. “It’s very complicated and I don’t think now is the best time to talk about it.”
“Nothing like a vague answer to annoy me. I hate it when people won’t say what they mean. Julian?”
“Don’t ask me to explain. I’m no good at explaining anything.”
“Coward,” she taunted.
“I’d be an idiot to get in the middle of this,” Julian countered.
Sophie let loose with a sharp “Ha!” then added, “You weren’t afraid to get in the middle of things earlier—when you snuck into my room.”
“Yeah, well, that was before,” Julian said.
“Before what? Before we left? Before we slept? Before we what?” she asked.
“Before you took the second step with Ric.”
“What’s that have to do with answering a question?” Sophie pushed.
“A lot.” Julian looked out the window, stabbing out at the dark. “Oh, look. Pretty cows.”
“Chicken,” Sophie grumbled.
“No,” Julian said, with a shake of his head. “Those are much too big to be chickens. Yep, they’re definitely cows. Or steer. Hard to tell from so far away.”
Ric smiled at the grunt of frustration that blasted from the backseat.
His dear, sweet, sexy, annoying, delightful—and did he say sexy?—Sophie. He knew she wasn’t the kind to keep up her silence long, had proven it by spending the past several hours questioning him about some very intimate details of his existence as a vampire, right down to the most sensitive ones, things he couldn’t afford for Julian to hear. If only he could get her alone, even for a second, he’d be able to explain, tell her he’d answer her questions when they had more time. And had more privacy.
Sun Tsu had coined the phrase “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.” Ric hadn’t been given the chance to explain that that was what he was doing there, inviting Julian along as they searched for the shield and spear; he wasn’t yet convinced of Julian’s unspoken suggestion that the shield was King David’s harp. He kicked himself for not taking the time to explain before they left the hotel, but he’d been anxious to get going, wanted to have several hours after they reached Chicago to find the dragon before sunrise. With all the bathroom and food stops Sophie kept initiating, they’d be lucky to get there by three. That would only give him about three hours to search.
As if she read his thoughts, Sophie chose that moment to announce, “I need to take a potty break. Was that a rest stop sign I saw back there?”
Humans! They had to eliminate every few minutes, especially female humans. Ric bit back a groan. “Are you sure you can’t hold it?”
“No, I can’t hold it. That’s bad for my innards. Causes bladder infections and then it feels like I’m peeing acid whenever I go. You don’t want to be around me when I have a bladder infection. Believe me. I’m miserable. My doctor said I should never hold it.”
“Okay, okay.” He surrendered with a lift of his hands. “I would never forgive myself if I were to cause you any sort of physical discomfort, at least if I can help it. We’ll stop. Again. But promise me you won’t get another giant-sized fountain drink?”
“Hey, first off, you’re the one who told me I was dehydrated and need to drink more. Plus, I’m so gosh darned thirsty all the time all of a sudden. What happened? Did that second step make me a diabetic or something? I only donated a drop of blood. Or did you take another drinky-drinky and wipe out my memory again? Because if you did, there’ll be hell to pay.”
Julian laughed, and Ric, unable to help himself, laughed too. Hell to pay was all too appropriate an expression. He followed the winding exit to the freeway rest area and parked, taking advantage of the stop to get out and stretch his legs. He watched Julian very carefully, waiting to see if he’d excuse himself, to go off and find a phone to contact someone in Chicago. He knew they could be walking into a trap going to the dragon’s lair. He guessed the dragon didn’t have either of the artifacts they were looking for. And expected they were being led astray, probably to keep them from defeating the lamia who’d sent Julian to visit Sophie in the first place. But lacking any information to confirm his suspicions, he wouldn’t ignore the possibility that Julian was telling the truth.
“By the way,” Julian said, looking innocent as ever, “I went ahead and reserved three rooms for us at the Marriott.”
“Perfect.” Ric figured he’d know which it was, very soon. Was Julian a friend or foe?