Lucifer (Vampires in America: The Vampire Wars Book 11) Page 4

  “It is an honor, my lady,” Lucifer said. He gave her a very pretty bow that normally would have made her smile. Now, it just made her hope that Eleanor could survive his charms.

  Chapter Three

  ELEANOR STARED OUT at the sleek private plane, thankful for the limo’s excellent soundproofing that muffled the piercing noise from the jet engines. The aircraft was winding up, getting ready to take her and Lucifer—she had trouble even thinking his name—off on a hunt for Colin Murphy. Just the idea made her uneasy, but Sophia’s needs were far more important than Eleanor’s tragic love life. The lady’s defense of the territory was vital to the life and well-being of thousands of Canadian vampires, but finding Colin was critical to Sophia’s life and well-being. You couldn’t have one without the other.

  For Eleanor, it was both a tremendous honor, and a terrifying burden, to be given such an important task.

  There were other vampires among Sophia’s people who were better hunters with far more experience in such things. But there wasn’t a better fighter than Eleanor, and there was a good chance that the hunt would come down to a battle for Colin’s life. More than that, however, the lady trusted her. And that was the biggest part of it—trust. Sophia trusted Eleanor in a way she did no one else. Ironically, that trust was rooted in the fact that it was Colin who’d seen something in Eleanor that no one else had. She’d been working in the lower ranks, mostly guarding the gate and running perimeter, just as she had for Lucien before his death. She’d never even met Sophia before Colin pulled her out of a crowd during a routine training session, and ordered her to meet him on the mats. She’d been shocked that a human would be ordering vampires around. She’d never heard of such a thing. Of course, she wasn’t all that old—not even 49 yet, with her 26 human years still out-numbering her vamp years. And the first few of those had been one long, confusing nightmare.

  The difference between human and vamp had never seemed to matter to Colin. He’d been superbly confident in his own abilities, something Eleanor had envied back then, but no more. She still admired Colin, but she was no longer lacking in confidence of her own. Colin had pulled her out of obscurity and given her a purpose, the highest purpose any vampire could ask for—defending her lord. Eleanor had run with it. She’d worked her ass off to build on the physical strength of her vampiric gift. She was still petite—the vampire symbiote didn’t change that—but it also didn’t care about size. She was far stronger than the strongest human, and most vampires, as well.

  There was one disadvantage that not even vampire strength could overcome, however, and that was the reach of her arms. Most of her opponents, whether on the mats or in a real conflict, were always going to be bigger than she was, with longer arms and greater reach. Colin had actually been the one who’d suggested a weapon to offset that advantage, and Eleanor now prided herself on considerable skill with a bo staff. Of course, one couldn’t walk down most city streets carrying a sixty inch steel staff, so she’d found one that collapsed into a twenty-two inch stick, but could be deployed to its full length in seconds. Wielded with the power of her vampire strength and hard-won skill, it was a deadly weapon. The stick offset her short reach, and her skill did the rest.

  Colin had believed in her when no one else had. He’d trusted Eleanor with the life of the woman he loved, and she was determined to deserve his trust.

  Now it was Colin who needed her help, and she’d give her life before she let him or Sophia down. Her biggest concern was Lucifer. Not working with him, she could do whatever was necessary to get along for the duration. Sophia had made it clear that, while Lucifer was leading the hunt, this was still Sophia’s territory, and Eleanor had the only authority that mattered. If Lucifer stepped one toe out of line, if there was any hint that Colin wasn’t his priority, then Eleanor was supposed to call off the hunt. Sophia assured her she had a back-up plan, though Eleanor didn’t know what it was, and a tiny voice inside her wondered if such a plan even existed.

  More to the point was whether Lucifer would drop the hunt just because Eleanor said so. She didn’t know how much power he had; she hadn’t been a vampire the last time she’d seen him. But she knew he was domineering and confident, and she suspected he had the power to back it up.

  She sighed and wondered, not for the first time, why, out of the hundreds of vampires at Aden’s command, she had to be paired up with Lucifer.

  A flash of movement hit her peripheral vision, and she turned to see a big, black SUV roll up to the foot of the idling jet. Light flashed on the Illinois license plate. Apparently, Aden had brought his own vehicles with him, which wasn’t all that unusual. Vampire lords were a suspicious lot and tended to drag their security blankets along with them, even when those “blankets” were heavily armored SUVs. Eleanor would have liked to claim it was a testosterone thing, but Sophia did it, too.

  Wanting to get their new partnership off to a good start, Eleanor braced herself against the jet noise, and stepped out of the limo to greet . . . Lucifer. Her gut clenched as the SUV’s door opened. The first vampire out of the SUV was Aden’s lieutenant, Sebastien, a formidable and somber vampire who rarely seemed to smile. He gave her a polite nod as he stepped away from the vehicle, making room for . . .

  Eleanor couldn’t look away. Even knowing what to expect, Lucifer’s appearance hit her like a block of wood to her head. She wanted to run, to duck back into the limo and tell the driver to take her away. To tell Sophia that she couldn’t do this job, after all. She just couldn’t. But that was the coward’s way. She’d run away once . . . from Lucifer. She’d promised herself a long time ago that she was finished with running away.

  Besides, it was too late. Lucifer had already seen her.

  He glanced her way idly at first, caught up in an exchange with Sebastien. But the moment his gaze fell on her, he froze in shock, and lifted one hand toward Sebastien in a bid for silence. Apparently, while she’d known about him, he hadn’t known about her.

  She didn’t know what to expect. Anger, maybe, at the way she’d left all those years ago. Hurt, betrayal? What she didn’t expect was the relief that suffused his handsome face, the sheer joy at seeing her alive and well again. He closed the distance between them in three long strides, arms out, hands reaching for her automatically. Until something made him stop. No, not something. She made him stop. The look on her face, the stiff rejection of her body language. Eleanor knew she should pretend to be casual about this, but it was just too much. The shock of seeing him again after all this time, the unexpected swell of emotion that threatened to bring her to tears. Why did she still feel so much for him? Deep in her chest, her heart ached, but it wasn’t pain, it was . . . a reawakening, as from a long slumber. Blood was suddenly rushing out to warm every muscle, flushing her skin, making her feel truly alive for the first time in so long. So very long.

  “He told me you were dead,” Lucifer said quietly, his voice deep and intimate. It was a demonstration of his power that he could make himself heard despite the loud jet noise. “I didn’t believe it, but I looked everywhere, and you were gone.” He waited, his eyes bright with power as they studied her, and she’d have sworn she could feel the touch of his hands on every inch of her body. “If you’d wanted to leave, I’d have hated it, but I wouldn’t have stopped you. But didn’t I at least deserve to know you were alive?”

  Oh, the pain in his eyes when he said that. A hurt that found an echo in her own heart.

  “A single line, a postcard letting me know you were safe and happy.”

  But maybe I wasn’t happy! She wanted to say the words, to tell him how miserable she’d been. How much she’d missed him, and how sad she still was sometimes in the darkest hour of the night. But that would reveal too much.

  “You look good,” she said instead, raising her voice to be heard. She had power of her own. More than most. But not like his. She was completely taken aback to rea
lize that Lucifer’s power felt more like Sophia’s, that he could well be a vampire lord someday. She studied him with new eyes, with a vampire’s knowledge of what he was. What she saw was still . . . her Lucifer. And he did look good. Even better than he had, and he’d always been gorgeous. His eyes would probably be called hazel, but there was so much grass green in them that they defied description. He had a beard now, neat and more of a five o’clock shadow than anything else. His hair was shorter than it had been—no longer worn around his shoulders, but shaped into a classic man’s razor cut, close on the sides, but still long on top. He’d always had great hair, thick and silky, and so black that it shone with blue highlights under the moon. He’d been big then, but somehow he seemed bigger now. Maybe it was the air of authority that surrounded him, the confidence fairly reeking from his pores.

  She’d have liked to say that it made him less attractive. But that would have been a lie. He’d been handsome back then, but now? Now he was devastating. Which was a good word for what he could do to her heart, if she wasn’t careful.

  “And you’re still beautiful,” he murmured. He was visibly pulling back from her, his expressive face shutting down. She mourned its loss, even as she acknowledged it was her fault.

  “Are you . . .?” She left the rest of it unsaid, a part of her still hoping Aden’s hunter would be someone else. Please God, let it be so.

  But Lucifer’s mouth curved into a sad smile. “I’m supposed to be meeting Sophia’s liaison here. Do you know . . .?” It was his turn to trail the words off in dismay. She saw the realization hit him, and she’d have sworn there was a sharp flash of satisfaction in those strange eyes, before he schooled his features into bland professionalism. “I’m guessing that’s you?”

  She nodded. “If you’d rather—”

  He raised an expressive eyebrow. “Still running away, Elle?”

  Bastard. He’d always been amazingly intuitive. Like he could read her mind. Maybe he could, though he’d never admitted it back then.

  “Of course not,” she said dismissively. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. I didn’t know you’d become an investigator, or whatever you call yourself.”

  “A hunter, cara,” he said coolly, although there was nothing cool about the look in his eyes.

  “Lucifer?” Sebastien’s deep voice interrupted. “Everything good?”

  Lucifer lingered for a heartbeat or two, holding her gaze. And then, without a word, he turned his back on her and walked over to where Aden’s lieutenant waited. Sebastien’s dark regard rested on her for a long moment, before cutting to Lucifer.

  “Problem?” he asked. He made no attempt to carry his words to her, but she read the single word on his lips.

  Eleanor didn’t know what Lucifer responded, but she saw the two vampires clasp hands and exchange manly hugs, before Sebastien climbed back into the waiting SUV and took off. Leaving her and Lucifer alone.

  The next few days, or even weeks, yawned ahead of her, a nightmare of working side by side with the only man she’d ever loved, while pretending that her heart wasn’t breaking into tiny pieces all over again.

  ELEANOR. FUCK. AS elated as Lucifer was to know that she was alive, her reaction to seeing him, her unhappy reaction, had been unexpectedly painful. Anger flashed, hot and sharp. For all the joy he’d experienced in that first moment he’d seen her standing there tonight, he still couldn’t believe it. She’d left him. And he couldn’t figure out why.

  He watched as she chose a seat in the back of Aden’s private jet, as far away from him as possible. A smile flitted around his lips, and he didn’t bother to conceal it. Let her think he was amused by all of this. Better that than to have her know how much it hurt.

  She’d been perfect, his fairy tale princess. Hell, the first time he’d seen her, he’d thought she was a figment of his imagination . . .

  1993, New Orleans, Louisiana, USA

  LUCIFER STROLLED down the crowded street, using just enough power to clear a path through the throngs of humans. Bourbon Street was frequently crowded, but never more so than during the Mardi Gras celebration, when tourists piled into the city with seemingly one goal—to get as drunk as possible. The area was always a fertile hunting ground, and Lucifer never minded a little bourbon with his blood. Or any other alcohol for that matter. Although, he wasn’t fond of rum.

  He snickered privately at the thought. Blood was blood. And he was hungry tonight. It had been weeks since he’d had a full night to hunt. He’d snuck in a quick bite here and there on the riverboat, but this was the first night he’d had for a leisurely hunt, a chance to select his donor and seduce her the old-fashioned way, rather than relying on the power of his vampire nature.

  Spying a particularly raucous group shoving drunkenly down the sidewalk, he chose to step out into the street. He could have shoved them instead, but he was feeling mellow tonight. Let them enjoy their revelry. Human lives were short enough.

  He’d gone no more than a few yards down the street, which was nearly as crowded as the sidewalk, when he spied a fellow vampire closing in on his prey. He couldn’t see the woman yet, but he could tell from the vampire’s behavior, from the intense focus of his gaze, that he had his eye on someone in particular.

  More out of idle curiosity than anything else, Lucifer altered his path to intercept the other vampire. He drew closer, and the crowds parted enough that, for the first time, he could see the intended prey. His breath caught in his throat. What was it his grandmother had called it? Colpo di fulmine. The thunderbolt. Love at first sight. He had to have this woman, even if it meant stealing her from beneath the other vampire’s fangs.

  She was perfection. Small and fair, with a lovely face and eyes of such a brilliant blue that they gleamed even in the dimness of a muggy New Orleans night. Long, golden-blond locks curled down her back to rest just above an exquisitely round and tight little ass, while her breasts fit her petite frame perfectly—neither large nor small, but firm and high, with nipples poking against the white cotton of her halter top.

  Lucifer frowned, his gaze shooting from her perky breasts to the hunting vampire now standing far too close. Close enough that she was beginning to fall under the sway of his power as he moved in for the kill. Although “kill” was only a turn-of-phrase these days. Killing was rarely necessary for a vampire’s survival in a world where humans lined up at so-called blood houses for the privilege of opening a vein. Some vampires liked the convenience of those houses, but Lucifer preferred hunting the streets.

  And thank God he had, or how else would he have found his princess? Because that’s what she was—a princess right out of the fairy tales his grandmother had told him when he was a very small boy. His uncles had objected, telling her that such stories were not for men, but for little girls. But his nonna had ignored them, and he’d been happy with that, because he’d loved those stories. He liked to think that it was his nonna’s stories that let him understand women as well as he did. Or, at least better than most. After all, what man could really understand a woman?

  But no woman had ever hit him as hard as this one. He had to have her.

  He moved through the crowd, using his power freely now to clear a path through the humans, intent on reaching her before the other vampire succeeded in mesmerizing her completely. Utilizing a nearly undetectable thread of power to break the vampire’s hold, he stepped up with a broad smile of greeting for the woman.

  “Darling,” he said cheerfully, closing his fingers lightly on her upper arm and pulling her away from the other vamp. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

  The vampire growled, fangs flashing, but he quickly backed down at the cold power of Lucifer’s gaze. “This one’s already mine,” he said, sliding an arm around her waist.

  The vampire didn’t like it. In fact, his jaw was clenched so hard that Lucifer could see white bone through his skin. But he
couldn’t do anything about it either. He snarled his impotent defiance, then quickly lost himself in the crowd. Lucifer didn’t feel all that badly about stealing the vamp’s dinner. He’d have no difficulty locating a fresh entrée. Not in this mass of humanity.

  Lucifer turned his attention to his own dinner. Though he already knew she was more than that. She held his heart in her hands, though she didn’t know it yet.

  Tipping her head back with a finger under her chin, he waited until her eyes cleared from the other vamp’s spell, and asked, “What’s your name, cara?”

  She gazed up at him, and now that she had a choice, he could see the consideration in her pretty blue eyes, deciding whether to gift him with her attention or not. He could have pushed her one way or the other. It was what he would have done with any other woman, but not this one. He wanted to keep this woman, which meant she had to choose him for herself.

  She smiled. “Eleanor Morel.”

  “Eleanor,” he repeated. “And I’m Lucifer.”

  Her eyes widened. “Is that your real name?”

  He nodded. “It’s Italian. Somewhat uncommon, but ordinary enough.”

  “So you’re not the child of Satan or anything?” she asked, her eyes sparkling in amusement, which made him want her even more.

  “Not according to my nonna. Although my mother might disagree.”

  She laughed, a sound his mind likened to the ringing of delicate bells. And he knew he was well and truly snared.

  Present Day, en route to Montreal, Quebec, Canada

  “NOTHING TO SAY, Elle?” he asked finally, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Unfortunately for her, the jet wasn’t so big that she could avoid him.