Chapter Three
“COWARD!” LADY PAMELA yanked off a boot and threw it on the parquet floor of her bedchamber.
How could she have behaved so cowardly? Six months of planning and practicing to be a stronger and more fearless person, and what had she done? She’d run away just like she had in the past. With a disgusted groan, she tossed her other boot on the floor.
Perhaps it wasn’t too late. Less than a minute had passed since she’d fled in fear. She could teleport back and . . . what? Allow that huge barbarian to kiss her?
A shudder skittered down her spine.
“Coward,” she muttered. Instead of running away, she should have slapped the brute soundly. Or better yet, she should have used some of her newly acquired martial-arts skills to fling him over her shoulder.
Her breath caught. Was it even possible to fling such a man? He was so enormous. As immovable as a giant boulder.
And his eyes had turned red.
Her hands flew to her cheeks, and she felt the heat of a blush. His eyes had turned red.
When she’d first spotted him, she’d been shocked by the sheer strength of his presence. It felt like he had swallowed up her entire field of vision, so she could hardly even see the other men. Or hear them.
His eyes had turned red. Because of her.
Why, oh why had she told him so much about herself? What had possessed her to confide in such a huge brute? Although he had seemed rather attentive and understanding for a barbarian.
She chased that thought away. He was a barbarian. He had attempted to kiss her. Prepare to be plundered. The gall of the man!
She jumped when a loud pounding shook her door.
“Lady Pamela? Is that you I hear?”
That accent could only belong to Miss Cora Lee Primrose—a Southern belle, transformed just prior to the American Civil War, and one of Pamela’s friends who shared the London townhouse.
“Yes, I have returned,” she answered.
“Well, land sakes, come out of there and tell us how it went. We’ve been worried sick about you.”
“I’ll be down shortly.” Pamela removed her utility belt and set it carefully on her bed so the various knives and ninja stars wouldn’t snag her pink satin coverlet.
With a sigh, she unzipped the front zipper on her costume. Perhaps she shouldn’t be overset by the night’s events. After all, she did assist the men in defeating the traffickers and delivering the captives back home. The blast from the hand grenade had frightened her but not enough to make her run away. Apparently, the prospect of a kiss was more terrifying than an explosion.
She removed her cape, then peeled off her latex costume. No doubt he had imagined undressing her. How dare he ogle her like that?
His eyes had glowed red. How could a man’s passion flare so hot so quickly?
“Posh.” She slipped on a silk wrapper and tied the sash around her waist. The man was a barbarian. He probably ogled a dozen women nightly and leered at them all with glowing red eyes. Prepare to be plundered, indeed. Who did he think he was? A Viking warrior who ravished innocent women?
What if she had stayed? Where would he have touched her? And kissed her? No doubt a barbarian did wicked things a gentleman would never do. Goose bumps prickled her skin.
She rubbed her arms as she marched toward the door. “I will not give him another thought.”
She was halfway down the stairs when she recalled his reaction to the camper full of pretty mortal girls. His eyes hadn’t turned red for them. Like her, he had wanted to take them home, and he’d handled them gently to assuage their fears. He’d been surprisingly kind . . . for a barbarian.
“Thank the Lord you are alive and well!” Princess Joanna announced when Pamela entered the parlor.
“Santa Maria be praised,” Maria Consuela added, and kissed her rosary.
“I’m quite all right,” Pamela assured the ladies.
Joanna’s title of princess was honorary since she was an old vampire, having been changed in Venice while en route to the Holy Land during one of the Crusades. Maria Consuela de Montemayor had been captured during the Spanish Inquisition when the authorities had feared that her fiancé was Jewish. Fortunately for her, he was also a vampire, and he’d teleported into the prison to rescue her. Both had been widowed centuries ago and had then transferred to a harem, where they could live in comfort and safety.
After appearing on a reality show for the Digital Vampire Network, Lady Pamela and her old harem friends had become modern enough to eschew the concept of needing a master. Still, in many ways, they held fast to their historic roots.
Princess Joanna settled in an easy chair by the fireplace. “Prithee, tell us all that has transpired.”
“Oh, yes.” Cora Lee walked in with a tray and set it down on the table. “We want to know everything.” She poured four cups of steaming hot Chocolood, a mixture of synthetic blood and chocolate. “I do declare we were worried sick.”
Maria Consuela shuddered. “It reminded me of being tortured.”
“Please do not suffer on my account.” Pamela sat, then accepted a cup from Cora Lee. “Thank you, dear.”
The Southern belle perched on the settee next to Maria Consuela. “Were you able to find Lara’s husband?”
“Yes. Everything went precisely as I had planned.” Not precisely, Pamela thought with a silent groan. Never in her wildest imaginings would she have foreseen herself in that man’s arms.
“And who was there?” Princess Joanna sipped from her cup. “Giacomo di Venezia, of course. And Zoltan Czakvar?”
Pamela nodded. “They were quite shocked to see me when I arrived.”
“I bet!” Cora Lee snickered. “Who else was there?”
“Two others. We hardly know them.” Pamela took a sip from her cup. “One was that new chap, J.L. Wang.”
“From Cathay?” Princess Joanna asked.
“I believe it’s called China now, dear.” Pamela set her cup down. “But he’s actually American.”
Princess Joanna waved a dismissive hand. “Those Americans are such a . . . boiling cauldron.”
“I think it’s melting pot,” Cora Lee said. “Who was the other fellow?”
Pamela shrugged nonchalantly even though heat was invading her cheeks. “That . . . man from Russia.”
“Russia?” Princess Joanna’s eyes widened.
Cora Lee gasped. “You mean the huge giant with the icy blue eyes and the blond braid down his back? Land sakes, his hair is longer than mine!”
“Wicked,” Maria Consuela whispered as she clicked through her rosary. “I know of whom you speak. He has eyes as cold as sin.”
More like red-hot and glowing, Pamela thought with an inward wince. But the sinful part was probably accurate.
“Heaven forbid!” Princess Joanna pressed a hand to her chest. “You cannot mean that barbarian!”
Pamela started to lift her cup, but changed her mind for fear her hand would noticeably tremble. “He seemed to be a valuable member of their team. No doubt he’s a fierce warrior.”
Princess Joanna snorted. “Fierce, indeed. The man is one of those horrid Vikings.”
“Evil,” Maria Consuela whispered.
Joanna shuddered. “For centuries, they were a scourge on our countryside, always pillaging and plundering.”
And she’d come close to being plundered. If Pamela had waited but a second longer, his lips would have touched hers. And being a barbarian, he wouldn’t have stopped. He would have ravished her mouth entirely. Thoroughly.
Her skin pebbled with gooseflesh, and in a shocking burst of clarity, she realized it wasn’t fear that was making her heart pound and her body tremble.
It was excitement.
Good heavens! Was she losing her senses? Such feelings could not be tolerated. The man was not her type at all.
“His name is Mikhail, right?” Cora Lee asked. She sipped from her cup. “I do declare he’s always frightened me a bit. He seems so . . . cold and forbidding.”
“Evil,” Maria Consuela muttered.
“He is absolutely wrong in every possible way,” Pamela said in a rushed voice. “Incredibly huge and muscular, with a chest like a rock. Not at all like my late husband. Maximilian was a gentleman. Sophisticated and refined. He would have never said . . .” She paused when she realized that the three women were watching her curiously.
Cora Lee leaned forward. “What did he say?”
Pamela’s face blazed with heat. “Nothing.” Prepare to be plundered.
“You are comparing him to your late husband?” Princess Joanna asked.
Pamela shook her head. “Only to emphasize what a huge brute he is.”
Cora Lee gave her a pointed look. “Maybe he’s huge all over.”
Pamela gasped. “I daresay that is . . .”
“Wicked.” Maria Consuela zipped through her rosary at vampire speed.
Cora Lee shrugged. “I’m just saying it’s been a long time since any of us indulged in a little romance.”
“That is quite out of the question,” Pamela snapped. “I have no intention of going anywhere near that brute—”
“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.”