A quick glance below assured him that his companions were close to winning the battle. They wouldn’t miss him.
He gathered her close to his chest. “I’ll take care of you. Trust me.”
Everything went black.
Chapter Five
PAMELA SNUGGLED DEEPER under her pink satin coverlet, her mind drifting in a foggy haze. Three hours had passed since she’d been wounded, but thanks to Mikhail’s doctoring and a whole bottle of Blardonnay, she was feeling no pain.
With a smile, she remembered the look on his face when he’d taken care of her. The furrowed brow, the tortured eyes, as if her pain hurt him more than her. He’d teleported them to the cellar of his hunting lodge, then taken her up the stairs to the kitchen.
After setting her in a chair next to the table, he’d poured her a glass of Blardonnay. “Drink it all. You’ve lost too much blood.”
She drank the mixture of synthetic blood and Chardonnay, then removed her gloves and pulled the cap off her head while he covered the table with an impressive array of medical supplies. “Where did you get all this?”
“From Dr. Lee. He’s too far away in Texas for me to see him whenever I get injured, so he taught me the basics.”
“I can’t imagine anyone’s managing to wound you.”
“Minor cuts and scrapes.” With an apology for destroying her clothes, he used scissors to cut through the spandex at her shoulder before easing the sleeve off her arm. He apologized again while cleaning her wound, wincing when the sting made her gasp.
She tried not to think about the pain, and so took advantage of the chance to study him up close. Even though his hair was a golden blond, his eyebrows were brown, and his eyelashes dark and thick. He was remarkably handsome . . . for a barbarian. And gentle. It would be so easy to fall for him. She gulped down the rest of her Blardonnay.
He filled a syringe. “This is a painkiller.”
“Should I have that when I’m drinking wine?”
“I’d rather see you tipsy than in pain.” He gave her the shot, then applied a row of butterfly bandages along her wound. “These will keep it closed till it can heal during your death-sleep. You might end up with a small scar.”
“That’s all right.”
He’d looked at her then, his icy blue eyes glimmering with pain like fractured icicles. “It is not all right. If the wound had been deeper—”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re beautiful. If I had known how beautiful you were inside, I would have never . . .” His voice drifted off as he wrapped her upper arm with a thick bandage.
“Never what?” she whispered.
Frowning, he fastened the bandage. “I wasted so much time.” He glanced at her. “It will be different now.”
Was her mind already befuddled? She wasn’t following him. “What will be different?”
“You and me.” He brushed her hair back from her brow. “You were injured trying to protect me. Don’t ever doubt your bravery again.”
Her heart squeezed in her chest. He thought she was brave. And beautiful inside. “You protected me, too.”
The corner of his mouth lifted, revealing his dimple, and she thought she might melt.
He kissed her brow. “You should go home now, so you can rest, and I can return to the guys. They might need me.”
“Of course.” She winced inwardly. They’d left the other guys in the middle of their mission. She eased to her feet, and the room swirled. “I—I’m a bit woozy.”
He caught her when she stumbled. “I’ll take you.” He swept her up in his arms. “But you’ll have to let me into your mind for a few seconds, so I’ll know the way.”
Into her mind? Vamps dove into the minds of mortals whenever they wanted to, without any hesitation, but they tended to be much more protective of their own mental privacy. No vampire wanted to be controlled by another. Normally, they only lowered their mental defenses to have vampire sex. And even then, they tended to keep all their secrets and past torments locked away. No one wanted to reveal a weakness that might later be used against them.
A mind meld with Mikhail. It was a chance to see inside him. If he let her. “All right.”
He cradled her against his chest, leaning his head forward till it touched hers. “Let me in.”
She opened her mind, and he slipped inside with a gentle, persistent strength, burrowing straight through her thoughts to the location of her bedroom. He was quick and efficient, his mind well-ordered and disciplined. He was holding back, she realized, making sure he didn’t overpower her, but even the strength in his restraint was impressive.
In those few seconds before he teleported her, she searched his mind, digging past the structured intelligence to see what lay beneath. A deep sadness. Past that, a swirl of strong emotion, then a shocking clarity as he revealed his feelings.
He loved her. He’d loved her for almost two hundred years.
As soon as they arrived in her bedroom, he exited her mind and placed her on her bed. Still stunned, she stared up at him, speechless.
He strode to the door and opened it to call her friends, so they could take care of her. They rushed in, gawking at him and fussing over her. She hardly heard them, her thoughts still reeling from the mind meld. He loved her. And he’d wanted her to know.
He leaned over her, kissing her brow once again before teleporting away.
Now, three hours later, it still dominated her thoughts. Mikhail Kirillov was not a barbarian. And he loved her.
She stretched under the pink coverlet and glanced at the empty bottle of Blardonnay on her bedside table. Cora Lee had insisted she drink the whole thing. She was fuzzy-headed, but her mind still functioned enough to recall the strength of his passion.
“Mikhail,” she whispered.
The door opened, and Cora Lee entered with another bottle of Blardonnay.
“How are you, dear?” She set the bottle next to the empty one.
“I’m drunk.” And I’m hopelessly attracted to Mikhail.
Cora Lee perched on the edge of the bed. “You gave us the biggest fright. When we saw that huge man in your bedroom . . .” She pressed a hand to her chest. “Are you sure he treated your wound properly? Do you want a real doctor?”
“I’m fine. He took very good care of me.” And I think I care for him, too.
“Land sakes.” Cora Lee waved a hand in front of her face. “I do declare that man simply oozes with virility. The way he kissed you. And looked at you. I don’t know if he wants to worship you or devour you. Both, I suppose.”
Pam gulped. Good heavens, I think I might love him. Her heart was yearning to see him, simply to talk to him or be in the same room with him. Her short glimpse into his mind had revealed a deep, dark pit of sadness. Grief. There was a tragedy in his past, and she wanted to be the one to console him. Wasn’t that the beginning of love? And if more happened . . . her heartbeat quickened. “I—I think I want to be with him.”
Cora Lee’s eyes lit up. “Vampire sex? Oh, gracious me. I have a feeling he would be very . . . adept.”
Pamela nodded. “I believe so, too.”
“Land sakes.” Cora Lee glanced at the clock on Pamela’s bedside table. “What are you waiting for? It’s two in the morning.”
“It should be five in Moscow.” And still dark. She could teleport to his hunting lodge. If she dared.
AS SOON AS Mikhail turned off the water in the shower, he heard a noise in the bedroom next door. He stepped silently from the shower stall and picked up the battle-axe he’d left on top of the laundry hamper. As far as he knew, no Malcontent knew where his hunting lodge was located.
“Mikhail?” a soft voice called from the bedroom.
Pam? He cracked the door open. Her eyes instantly widened, and he realized he most likely looked like the brute she thought he was. His hair was loose and wet, his body still dripping, and his groin hidden behind a battle-axe still stained with blood from the recent battle.
She turned to face a bookcase, her cheeks flushed.
“Are you all right?” he asked. “Did you need more painkiller?”
“I’m fine.” She fiddled with the sash at her waist. “If this is a bad time, I could come back—”
“No.” What was she wearing? Some sort of night robe? He was suddenly glad the battle-axe was concealing his ever-growing reaction. “Don’t go. I’ll be right out.”
When she nodded, he closed the door. What was she doing here? The sun would rise in about forty minutes. Her visit would have to be quick . . . unless she was intending to stay here for her death-sleep. In his bed.
He toweled off and grabbed a pair of jeans. No, too tight. His groin was already swollen. He pulled on a pair of flannel pants. Grabbing his towel, he stepped into his bedroom.
She’d found his treasure box and was peering through the glass lid.
His heart stilled. Out of all the books and mementos on his bookcase shelves, she’d zeroed in on the one thing that meant the most to him. Had she glimpsed it in his thoughts for the brief time their minds had been connected?
He pulled his hair over his shoulder and dried it with the towel. “Don’t open it.”
With a start, she put the box back on the shelf. “I beg your pardon. I didn’t mean to pry.”
He tossed the towel into the bathroom. “I’ve managed to preserve those flowers for over six hundred years.”
“That’s amazing.” Her gaze drifted over his bare chest, then shifted back to the dried flowers in the box. “They must be very important to you.”
“They are.” He approached slowly. “My daughter picked them for me. She died that night.”
Pam gasped. “I’m so sorry.”
“The color has faded, but the flowers were a beautiful shade of lavender blue.” He stopped beside her. “The same color as your eyes.”
She winced. “I remind you of losing your daughter?”
“You remind me of the most joyful days of my life.”
Her eyes widened. “Can you . . . tell me about her? What was her name?”
“Anya.” He touched the glass cover on the box, tracing the outline of the stems and flowers. “She was bright and beautiful. Blond with blue eyes.”
“Like you,” Pam whispered.
He nodded. “She was murdered. Along with my wife.”
Pam gasped and touched his arm. “I’m so sorry.”
With a grimace, he stepped back. “Don’t waste any sympathy for my wife. She invited the vampires in. She wanted them to transform her, so she could stay young and beautiful for all time.”
He turned away from Pam’s shocked face and paced across the room. “When the vampires invaded our house, they attacked me and tied me up. I was one mortal against ten vampires. I couldn’t defeat them.”
“Of course not.”
He twisted his hair, wrapping it around his fist. “I couldn’t protect my daughter. They fed on her, drained her dry. She was only six years old.”
Pam approached him, her eyes glistening with pink tears. “I’m so sorry.”
“My wife had made a deal with them. She sacrificed our daughter, an innocent child, in exchange for eternal life. But the vampires double-crossed her and laughed over her corpse. Then they told me to enjoy my pain for the rest of my measly life.”
Pam shook her head. “I don’t know how a mother could do that.”
He sighed. “I blamed myself for centuries. I should have seen the evil in her. I should have taken my daughter somewhere safe.”
“You mustn’t blame yourself.”
He smiled sadly at her. “Like you? You’ve been blaming yourself for past mistakes.”
She nodded with a resigned look. “So what happened?”
“I spent three years hunting the vampires, but eventually I realized I couldn’t compete with them as a mortal.”
Pam grimaced. “So you became one of the creatures you hated?”
“It was the only way to avenge my daughter.”
Her eyes glistened with tears. “You loved her so much.”
“Don’t cry.” He touched her cheek. “It was a long time ago. And I’ve managed to kill a lot of bad vampires in the last six hundred years. That’s a good thing, right?”
“Yes.” Her tear-filled eyes regarded him with tenderness. “You are a good man, Mikhail.”
His mouth twitched. “I thought I was a huge brute.”
“No. You’re . . . lovely.” A tear tumbled down her cheek, and he caught it with his thumb.
“Pam.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers. She sighed sweetly against him, a sign of surrender, so he gathered her in his arms and kissed her thoroughly. By the time he was done, she was clinging to him and breathless.
“Mikhail,” she whispered, leaning against his chest.
He rubbed a hand down her back. No undergarments that he could feel. Was she nak*d beneath her nightclothes? His groin twitched. “Pam, I want you.”
With a gasp, she stepped back. “Really? You-you mean, tonight?”
“Yes. We have less than thirty minutes, but—”
“Oh, that’s fine.” She waved a hand. “Ten minutes is usually quite enough for me.”
“Ten?” Ten hours could hardly suffice. Not when he’d wanted her for almost two hundred years.
“Yes.” She pressed a hand to her chest and blushed. “I daresay this is rather exciting.”
His vision turned pink. “We haven’t actually started yet, but I appreciate the enthusiasm.”
Her eyes widened at the sight of his eyes, now red and glowing. “Good heavens.” She glanced around the room. “Do you mind if I make myself comfortable on your bed?”
His groin tightened. “Be my guest.”