He frowned and concentrated. The memory of her appearance in the gallery paraded through his mind's eye. The gown had skimmed over her feminine curves, framing enticingly appealing cleavage and the slim column of her throat. As intriguing, her gray eyes had held the wisdom and weariness of someone who'd handled her share of life's downs and then some, despite her age. He knew the look-and the feeling. How odd to find something so fundamental in common with someone so different from himself.
Realization washed over him.
She was what stopped him. It had been her voice in the gallery that had snapped him from the fantasy of taking her right then and there. And it had been the squeeze of her hand and the sound of her pleading words that had given him the wherewithal to stop drinking from her when he'd been in so very deep-not to mention completely convinced he no longer possessed that kind of willpower.
Both times, he'd been about to drown, and she'd resuscitated him with merely a word, a touch.
Sharp tingles played under the skin of his palm. He rubbed it against the wool of her coat without realizing what he was doing.
Lars hung a hard left onto the nearly hidden rural road that would take them into the mountains overlooking the city and the fjords that led out to the Norwegian Sea.
Henrik braced his hand against the seat to minimize jostling her. When he looked down again, the top of her coat had sagged open, revealing the savagery that had been done to the silky material of her gown-and to her throat.
And not just by him.
He pulled the coat closed, giving her the modesty she deserved.
Jesus, it might almost be easier to tolerate if he'd been the sole cause of her misfortune. Even a moment's entertainment of the thought that Soul Eaters had touched her, fed from her and nearly killed her was enough to boil the blood where it flowed in his veins. The growl rumbled from his chest unbidden.
Jakob's gaze snapped toward him.
"Don't worry about me. Just hurry," Henrik rasped. "She's not well."
The Rover shot ahead. Soon, they turned again, this time onto the gravel drive that twisted through a dense stand of trees. A rusted metal gate swung open as the truck approached and closed immediately behind them again. They'd been on security cams for the past mile. His warriors knew they were inward bound.
Jakob flicked on an overhead light as Lars swung around to the left, out of the view of the gate, should anyone ever make it close enough to satisfy their curiosity. The Rover entered a hidden tunnel. Blackness surrounded them and the wall of rock rumbled behind them as it re-covered the entrance. When the external door was secured, the one in front of them opened.
"Something you need to see, Henrik." Jakob held up a rectangular piece of plastic.
He grabbed the card. Kaira's ID. And he didn't have to ask what had captured his brother's attention. "Where'd you find this?" he asked.
He held up a denim sack.
"Mother of God," he whispered. Kaira Sorensen of neighboring Denmark was twenty years old.
The age at which a human's blood was most potent to a vampire.
The age at which the Proffered completed their training and attempted to be matched.
Was it a coincidence? Fate? A horrible trick raising his hopes only to dash them again?
"Get Marius on this immediately. I want a complete dossier. Everything he can find. And I want it five minutes ago."
Jakob accepted the card and nodded. "Ja, my lord."
"And have Kjell meet us in the infirmary."
His brother made the calls. Henrik battened down all the emotional hatches threatening to burst open. Multiple variables, innumerable obstacles and insufficient information. Not a good basis on which to act or react.
At least, that's what he told himself.
Kaira mumbled. Her eyelids flickered. When she finally managed to open them all the way, her eyes remained unfocused.
The truck came to a rest in the garage. The men in the front got out.
"What's happening?" she said so softly he wouldn't have heard it were it not for his preternatural abilities.
"You're at my home, Kaira. Fear not. I won't hurt you." He slid with her across the seat.
Her gray eyes fought to focus, and her gaze landed on his. "Promise?"
Sitting on the edge of the back seat, legs halfway out the door, he paused. He didn't know whether to be more amused that she thought extracting his word would protect her if he intended her harm, or that even as she lay semiconscious in his arms she found the strength to talk and the will to negotiate.
Either way, he found her more than a little endearing.
"I promise."
She stared at him a long moment as if weighing his words against whatever expression he wore, and then she drifted off once more.
Henrik felt the weight of another gaze on him and looked down.
Jakob stood with his hand on the door, holding it open. "Sure that's a promise you can keep?"
Henrik ignored his brother, hoping with everything he was that he could keep his promise to her, no matter what it took. Or what it cost.
Chapter 6
Kaira surfaced into consciousness like she was swimming in mud. Everything felt slow and heavy. She forced the ten-pound weights of her eyelids open. Dim lighting cast a low glow over what looked like a hospital room.
She pushed herself up, and a twinge in her left wrist drew her gaze. An IV. She traced the line to the pole standing bedside. Just fluids.
"How are you feeling?" came a deep voice.
Kaira's head wrenched to the right as her heart vaulted into her throat. Henrik sat in a chair by her elbow. He'd been so quiet, she hadn't even realized he was there. "How long did I sleep?" she said through the cotton in her mouth.
"About five hours."
She studied him for a long moment. He'd cleaned up. A pair of jeans and a navy turtleneck stretched taut to accommodate the breadth of his shoulders replaced the ruined clothing he'd worn before. Her gaze traced up to his face. It was the first time she'd seen his hair out from under the black knit cap. Most of it was thick and long, but the hair behind his left temple was thin, revealing a patch of his scalp.
He tilted his head in a way that hid the baldness from her line of sight.
She met his observing gaze and gasped. "Your eyes."
He sat forward and clasped his hands where they hung between his knees. The closeness gave her a wide-open look at his once again nearly colorless eyes. Still as penetrating and intense, though. "You never answered my question."
Why did his eyes keep changing? Last night, when they'd appeared a bright, deep blue, he and his men had seemed awed, definitely happy. Now, the set of Henrik's big shoulders made her think he carried a burden nearly too great to bear. She frowned. "What question?"
"How do you feel?"
"Oh." Kaira conducted a mental rundown from her head to her toes. "Better than last night. Tired. Achy. I think the fever's down."
"We didn't want to treat you beyond the fluids for dehydration until we had a better sense of what was going on. Our doc specializes in patching up wounds and setting bones, when need be, but since we don't get sick, your situation is outside his area of expertise."
"‘We,' as in...vampires."
He gave a single nod. "That's right."
She ducked her chin, drawing her attention to the fact she wore a johnny over the smooth fabric of the gown she could still feel against her skin. They'd covered her. Last night, they'd protected her. And both Henrik and Jakob had been more honest with her than they had to be. "May I have some water?"
Henrik was on his feet before she'd finished enunciating the last word. He crossed to the sink in the corner and was so tall he had to bend down to fill the cup at the faucet. How old was he? Looking at him right now, except for the white hair, she would never guess from his height and the athleticism of his movement and his upright, commanding bearing that he was older than his twenties. Thirties, maybe.
"Um, not to be rude, but how can vampires exist and nobody knows?"
He returned to her and handed off the drink.
His body was nearly mesmerizing to watch. Quick. Efficient in movement. Confident. There was something totally magnetic and appealingly masculine about him. But then you got to his face, and it seemed to belong to another person. Between the intensity of his eyes, the square jaw, and the strong, expressive brow, no doubt he'd been handsome once, in a rugged sort of way. But now, sunken circles darkened the skin below his eyes and his cheeks were thin and hollowed. Wrinkles pulled at the corners of his eyes and mouth. How could he and Jakob be brothers, yet look so different?