Page 7 of Love, Rekindled

“Call the others and tell them to do a sweep of the neighborhood,” he snapped in terse tones. “Pick up any vampire wearing a red leather jacket.”

Maxim reached for his cellphone, glancing over his shoulder. “What do you want me to do?”

“Pull as close to the female as you can get.”

Making a quick call to the six clansmen Azrael had brought to the city, Maxim picked up speed, weaving through the heavy traffic before quickly swerving toward the curb. Azrael didn’t hesitate, jumping out of the backseat and flowing forward.

He gave Jayla less than a second to sense his approach before dropping a heavy hood over her head and binding her wrists in silver shackles. She briefly struggled, but once he scooped her off her feet to tuck her into the back of the limo, she held herself with a rigid dignity. Like a goddess who was above the stupidity of the world around her.

Azrael frowned as Maxim hit the accelerator and then drove out of the city. Why was Jayla so calm? Had she expected to get kidnapped? Yes, that made sense.

But why set herself up as a target?

He was considering the various options when she impatiently rattled the shackles already searing into her delicate skin. The sound made Azrael flinch. He hated that he was causing her pain, but he couldn’t risk allowing her to escape. Not only did he need her, but he also had no idea how many bad guys were lurking in the horde of tourists.

They reached the outskirts of the city, and the car at last pulled into an underground parking lot of a towering apartment building. The limo came to a smooth halt, and opening the car door, Azrael crawled out, gently pulling Jayla behind him. He nodded toward Maxim, and the limo pulled away. Wrapping his arm around her stiff shoulders, he steered Jayla toward a heavy steel door marked with a sign that read:MAINTENANCE.

Placing his hand flat against the door, he used his power to push it open, revealing a narrow flight of stairs. Still holding Jayla close, he headed down to the secret lair. They entered a long, sparsely furnished room with a cement floor, matching walls, and open steel beams above their heads. This was a temporary space for vampires in need of a secure location to stay hidden—or conceal something important.

Azrael needed both.

Leading Jayla toward the small sofa, he pressed on her shoulders until she settled on the edge of the leather cushion. He sat beside her, a potent surge of anticipation tingling through him.

As if sensing his heated gaze that swept over her rigid body, Jayla made a muffled sound of impatience.

“If you intend to kill me, I wish you’d get on with it before I die of boredom.”

Azrael smiled with rueful humor. “You haven’t lost your arrogance,kiska.”

She froze at the sound of his voice. Or maybe it was his Russian endearment. She’d reminded him of a hissing cat the first time he’d seen her. Sleek and elegant and utterly lethal. Her rich lotus scent swirling in the air. “Who are you?”

Azrael leaned toward her. “First, I intend to relieve you of any weapons you have hidden beneath that lovely gown.”

She hissed in outrage. “Touch me, and I’ll kill?—”

“Not this time,” he interrupted, sweeping his hands down the length of her torso.

It took an effort, but he kept his touch light, refusing to acknowledge the jolts of pleasure racing through him. She was bound and momentarily helpless. He might be a vampire, but he wasn’t a monster. Not anymore.

He reached the slender length of her legs when he at last found a sheath tied around her upper thigh. Carefully, he pulled out the slender dagger with its silver blade and tossed it onto a chair across the narrow space. Next, he bent to slide off her shoes, lifting the pointed heels to his nose. Poison. Just as he’d suspected.

“Impressive,” he murmured, flipping the shoes to join the dagger. “Now, this.” Grabbing the thick hood, he slowly pulled it off her head.

Jayla blinked, a visible tremor racing through her body as she allowed her gaze to skim over his face before lowering to the white cashmere sweater stretched across his chest and then down to his dark slacks.

At last, she slowly shook her head as if coming out of a dream. Or a nightmare.

“No,” she rasped. “This is a trick.”

“I’m very real,” he assured her, leaning forward. She was clearly in shock, but she hadn’t panicked. And she hadn’t tried to attack. He was willing to take a risk. With quick movements, he unlocked the shackles and let them drop to the floor. Then, he offered her a sensuous smile. “Do you want to touch and prove for yourself?”

Disappointingly, she didn’t accept his offer. Instead, she continued staring at him as if he were a ghost.

“You’re dead,” she breathed.

“We’re vampires. Technically, we’re both dead.”

“I stuck a dagger in your heart and watched you turn to ash.”

---