Vampires Gone Wild (Love at Stake #13.5)

Vampires Gone Wild (Love at Stake #13.5) Page 7

“I’m determined.”

His grip tightened. “I won’t allow it.”

She pulled away from him. “You don’t own me!”

“No, I don’t.” He gritted his teeth. “But I cannot bear for you to be injured. The last time I lost someone I love, it nearly killed me.”

Tears blurred her vision. “I’m really sorry about your daughter, but I can’t give up my dream and do nothing for the rest of my life. I thought you understood how important this is to me.”

“I thought you understood how important you are to me. You have my heart.”

“I didn’t ask for it!” She winced. Oh God, she shouldn’t have blurted that out. He had instantly flinched and let go of her.

He climbed out of bed, his face harsh and his eyes cold. “My apologies for burdening you with something you do not want.”

He stalked off to the bathroom and shut the door.

Her chest seized with a sudden pain. What had she done? She hadn’t meant to hurt him. She only wanted go on missions with him. She wanted to prove herself strong and brave. What was so wrong with that?

Instead, she’d proven herself a terrible fool.

Tears ran down her cheeks. What should she do? Apologize and tell him she loved him? Did she?

Oh, God, yes. She must love him for this to hurt so horribly.

She slipped out of bed, ready to dash to the bathroom and confess her love. But what then? Would she be expected to give up her plans?

She wandered to the bathroom and knocked on the door.

No answer.

“Mikhail?” She knocked again. “Can we . . . talk?”

No answer.

She opened the door, and the room was empty. He must have thrown on some clothes and teleported away. He was probably at Zoltan’s, getting ready for the next mission.

She was tempted to follow, but how could she show up there, wearing nothing but a thin wrapper? Besides, she didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t likely to back down, and she didn’t want to give up her dream. They were at an impasse, and she didn’t know how to fix it.

All she knew was that she loved him. She wanted an eternity with him.

But she might have discovered it too late.

Chapter Seven

A week later. . .

“HAVE A SEAT.” Angus MacKay motioned to an armchair in the parlor of his London townhouse.

“Thank you.” Pamela sat and wedged her small handbag into the chair next to her. After receiving a brief phone call and invitation from Angus’s wife twenty minutes earlier, she’d quickly dressed in a modern, professional-looking suit designed by Jean-Luc Echarpe. She wasn’t sure what Angus and Emma wanted, but since they were the owners of MacKay Security and Investigation, and he was Coven Master of the British Isles, she wanted to look her best.

Angus paced across the parlor, his blue-and-green-plaid kilt swishing about his knees. “I hear ye’ve been busy of late, helping the lads in Albania.”

“Yes.” So this was the purpose for her sudden invitation. The men must have complained about her interference with their mission, and Angus was going to berate her over it.

She gripped her hands together. Was Mikhail behind this? Was this how he intended to keep her safe at home and hopelessly bored for the next few centuries?

Angus stopped pacing and frowned at her. “I heard ye were injured in battle. Are ye all right now?”

“I’m fine. Thank you.” Pamela shifted in her chair. “How are you and Emma?”

“We’re very well.” Emma strode into the room, carrying a tray. “Would you like a cup of hot Chocolood?”

Pamela nodded. “That would be lovely. Thank you.”

While Emma poured two cups from a teapot, Angus helped himself to a glass of Blissky at the sidebar.

“Here you are.” Emma passed her a cup, then sat near her on the settee. “I’m sure you’re wondering why we invited you here.”

“Yes.” Pamela sipped some Chocolood, then set her cup down before her trembling hands could betray her.

Angus plunked his glass of Blissky on the coffee table, then sat next to his wife. “We received a detailed report on your recent activities.” He arched a brow. “VampWoman, ye call yerself?”

“Yes.” Heat invaded her cheeks. She’d thought her idea excellent for the past six months, but now she feared others would see it as an irresponsible prank. She steeled herself for the berating soon to begin.

“I’m afraid we made a mistake not hiring you before,” Emma said with an apologetic smile. “We didn’t realize how determined you are.”

Pamela blinked. She wasn’t in trouble?

Angus leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “We’d like to hire you now if ye’re still interested.”

Her mouth dropped open.

“Of course, we doona think ye’re properly trained for battle,” Angus continued.

“But we will train you,” Emma added. “Vigorously. Are you up to that?”

Pamela snapped her mouth shut and nodded. Her pulse quickened. She was going to work for MacKay S and I!

Emma took a sip from her cup of Chocolood. “You worked as a bartender at Vanda’s club in New York, correct?”

“Yes.”

“How do ye feel about spying?” Angus asked.

Pamela’s heart skipped a beat, but she sat up straighter. “How soon can I start?”

Angus chuckled. “Let me explain the plan first. The Malcontents are in disarray, with Casimir and Corky gone. No clear leader has surfaced, and information is scarce. We know of a nightclub in Moscow they like to frequent, so there’s a good chance we could gain valuable information there.”

Pamela nodded. Good heavens! Did they expect her to work in Moscow?

“It’s a tragic place.” Emma grimaced. “The mortals who go there are enthralled to the point that they enjoy being fed on. Eventually, they run out of blood and are cast aside like empty milk jugs. And regrettably, there are more mortals ready to take their place. You would have to witness that but do nothing to help them, or your cover would be blown. Then you would be in serious trouble.”

Pamela swallowed hard. “I understand.”

“Ye would work at the bar, serving the puir mortals, and listening in on the Malcontents,” Angus said.

Pamela slumped. This wasn’t going to work. “I’m afraid I can’t help you. I don’t know any Russian.”

“That’s why you’re perfect for the job.” Emma gave her an encouraging smile. “The Malcontents will feel free to discuss their affairs in front of you.”

“They will most likely test you to make sure ye doona understand them,” Angus warned her. “They might say some verra nasty things to you to see if ye react.”

“Just ignore them and go about your job, serving the mortals,” Emma said. “You’ll be wired, so their conversations will be heard by our Russian operative.”

Pamela’s heart lurched. “You mean . . . Mikhail?”

“Aye,” Angus replied. “He’ll be yer partner.”

She shook her head. “He’ll never agree to it. He doesn’t want me doing anything dangerous.”

“Dear.” Emma reached over and touched her arm. “This was Mikhail’s idea. He’s the one who convinced us to hire you.”

Pamela sat back, stunned. Mikhail was behind this?

“He’ll be listening in while you’re at work,” Emma added. “If there’s an emergency situation, he can teleport to you instantly.”

Angus stood. “What do ye say, lass? Do ye want the job?”

“I . . .” Her heart thundered in her ears. A job with Mikhail? Night after night?

“Perhaps you would like to discuss the matter with him first?” Emma asked.

“Mikhail!” Angus shouted.

Pamela gasped. He was here? She glanced at the entrance to the parlor just as his large frame filled the open doorway.

Her heart clenched with longing. How many tears had she shed the past week, believing she’d lost him forever? Even now, her eyes filled with tears, and she squeezed them shut. This was not the time to fall apart. She needed to show Angus and Emma how strong she could be.

Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and eased to her feet. Mikhail strode into the room, his eyes focused on her with an intensity that made her skin prickle with gooseflesh.

Emma grabbed her husband’s arm and pulled him toward the entrance. “We should give them some privacy.”

“They’re staring at each other something fierce,” Angus whispered.

“Shh.” Emma herded him through the door and shut it.

Pamela drew in a shaky breath. Over the past week, she’d envisioned meeting Mikhail many times. Sometimes, she imagined herself fussing at him and taking a tough stance. Other times, she would confess her love and throw herself into his arms. But far too often, she had burst into tears for fear he would never want to see her again.

Now the time had come. He was here, and she didn’t know what to say.

He stopped about ten feet away. “You look thin. And pale.”

She blinked away the tears in her eyes. Dear Mikhail. No false flattery from him, just the blunt truth. It was one of many things she loved about him. He was thinner, too. His cheekbones and the line of his jaw were sharper, and his eyes had a haunted look about them. “I didn’t realize you were in London.”

“I arrived an hour ago to present the plan to Angus. He told you about it?”

She nodded. “He said we would be . . . business partners.”

His mouth thinned. “That would be a start.”

A start for what? “I suppose I might need to live closer to the bar where I’ll be working.”

“I have a townhouse in Moscow. You’re welcome to live there.” A pained look crossed his eyes. “There’s a spare bedroom.”

She winced inwardly. “Then this is a . . . business proposition?”

“Yes.”

She shook her head, confused. “I don’t know why you’re doing this. You made it clear you didn’t want me doing anything dangerous, but now you’ve—”

“You don’t know why?” He stepped toward her. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m trying desperately to get you back into my life. I’m so desperate I’m willing to put you in a dangerous situation that will scare the hell out of me every night. And I’m willing to endure that torture just so you’ll be near me.”

Her heart swelled. “Mikhail—”

“I know I rushed you. I’ve been in love with you for almost two hundred years, but it was new for you. I should have courted you, waited for you.” He slashed the air angrily with his hand. “I will wait for you. No matter how long it takes.”

“Mikhail.” Tears ran down her cheeks. “The wait is over. I love you.”

His eyes widened, then he grabbed her and pulled her into his arms. “Oh, God, Pam. I thought you hated me. I thought I’d messed everything up.”

“No, I messed up.” She touched his face. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry.”

He wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I love you so much. I should have never let you go.”

“It’s okay.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I didn’t realize how much I loved you till I had lost you.”

He kissed her brow. “We can’t let the Malcontents know you’re with me. It would blow your cover. So we’ll have to keep our marriage a secret.”

She blinked. “Marriage?”

He winced. “I keep going too fast. Don’t worry. We’ll take it slower this time.”

She shook her head, smiling. “I’ll beat you up if you stick me in that spare bedroom. I can do it, you know. I’m VampWoman.”

With a laugh, he hugged her tight. “You’re my woman.”

A Forever Love

Pamela Palmer

Chapter One

“CATCH IT, CATCH it, catch it, yes!”

Elizabeth Bryant jumped from her seat as the Washington Redskins scored on a beautiful touchdown pass in the last ten seconds of the game to win. “Hail to the Redskins!” she sang at the top of her lungs, joining her friends. At the Skins’ win, high fives exploded around the small apartment living room, followed by several victory kisses between her girlfriends and their husbands and fiancés.

Elizabeth’s date, Tim, grabbed her around the waist and pulled her close, laying one on her. She stiffened before she could catch herself, then forced herself to relax and kiss him back. It wasn’t the first time they’d kissed—she’d been dating him for about a month, but the tender he-man assault was just too much like something Lukas would have done. She didn’t appreciate the attempt or the reminder. She’d belonged in Lukas’s arms. She didn’t belong in Tim’s. And the thought made her chest ache.

Pulling away, she made a quick excuse and headed for the kitchen. Damn you, Lukas Olsson. Why can’t I forget you? And she needed to forget him. Two years ago, he’d left her, suddenly, without so much as a good-bye. She should be completely over him by now. She ought to hate him.

The trouble was, deep inside, the flicker of hope that he’d someday return refused to die. Because Lukas Olsson had been full of secrets. When she’d asked what he did for a living, he’d only ever given her vague answers—the kind of answers top secret types always offered in this town. CIA. NSA. Not only was Washington, D.C., overrun by politicians; it was crawling with spies.