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  “I want…”

  Her heart was thumping steadily and it made him grin. “What?” she panted.

  Terry pulled back and took a deep breath. “Dinner. You hungry?”

  She blinked. “I… what?”

  He set her on her feet and gave her bum an affectionate pat. “I’ll just make something light. You relax, luv. Enjoy the wine. That batch really is better. Might have to give the Frenchman a raise.” Then Terry left her stunned and slipped into the galley to poach the fish he’d caught earlier. This was going better than he’d expected.

  “Bon appetit.”

  He set the dish down in front of her. It was a light meal consisting of bluefish poached in white wine with some fruit on the side. As a younger vampire, Terry still enjoyed food more than Gemma did, but she did need a bit in her stomach to remain comfortable. Occasionally, he tried to imagine her as human, but he just couldn’t. She was the embodiment of immortal beauty to him. Everything about her screamed ferocious blood-sucking predator. No wonder he was in love.

  “Is it all right, Gem?”

  She frowned a little, looking at the table. “It’s fine. Thank you, Terry.”

  Why’d she gone all quiet and soft? That wasn’t like her at all. “Gobsmacked again, eh? Sorry. I know you don’t like being surprised by my many talents. I’ll try to be more considerate in the future.”

  And just like that, her eyes sparked. “I was trying to think of a gentle way to tell you that your French accent sounds like a nineteenth century whore, but there just isn’t one, is there?”

  Terry grinned. There she was. “That might tell you where I learned it, luv.”

  “I’d say, ‘Do tell.’ But I’d really rather you didn’t.”

  “I speak it. That’s all that’s important. Você não acha?”

  He’d forced a smile out of her. “Your Portuguese is rather nice, though.”

  “That’s because I like the language more.”

  She shook her head and little and tasted the fish. “It’s not always about indulging your own wishes, Terry. France is an important trading partner and if we’re going to continue to cultivate Jean Desmarais as an ally—”

  “It’s all about indulging myself on my honeymoon. How’s the fish? Caught it earlier. Thought it might go well with those figs and the new wine.”

  “Excellent.” She set her fork down and just looked at him.

  “What?”

  “You never cook at home.”

  “We employ a cook at home. And I’m very busy.” He squirmed a little under her unwavering gaze. “So?”

  “You’re a very good cook.”

  “I have to be. Someday, I might not be able to afford domestic help, and I have a very demanding wife.”

  “That’s so likely, husband.”

  Mercy, he wanted to take her on the table right then. He loved calling her his wife. Loved it almost as much as the little curl her lip made when she heard the word. He was such a contrary ass sometimes.

  She was still examining him. “We do have an excellent cook at home.”

  “We do.”

  “Whom you hired yourself.”

  He narrowed his eyes. What was she getting at? “Yes…”

  She grabbed him and pulled him over the table, licking up the side of his neck as Terry shivered. Then Gemma whispered in his ear, “You, Terrance Ramsay, are…”

  Fuck, he knew she could hear his heart pounding. “I’m what?”

  She bit his earlobe. “A snob.”

  Gemma pushed him away before he could grab her. “I am not!”

  She laughed. What had gotten into her? Whatever it was, he liked it. He tried to quash the smile that threatened his lips.

  “You are,” she said. “You’re a food snob, aren’t you?”

  “Not a snob. I just like good food.”

  “Oh really? Because I saw the face you made at that dinner with the German club owners—” Terry couldn’t stop the wince. The beef had been dry to the point of jerky. And they should never have served that wine with dinner.

  “Ha!” Gemma crowed. “I thought it was the company, but it wasn’t. It was the food!”

  “It was the company, too.”

  She took another bite of the fish. “You’re a food snob. How very aristocratic of you, Terrance.”

  “It’s not snobbish to dislike over-spiced roast which tasted as if it had been run over with—” Gemma burst into laughter. “What do you know? You hardly eat anything.”

  “I think it’s rather adorable. Do you have an apron? Watch the cooking programs while I’m out of the house?”

  Forget the food. He threw his napkin down and stood, but she beat him to her feet and darted into the cabin. So they were playing that game? Terry’s blood sang. He loved a chase, and in the enclosed space, neither one of them could hide for long.

  I love you. I want you. Be mine. I want you to be mine.

  “Gemma,” he called tauntingly. “I can smell you, luv.”

  She darted by, scratching one nail along his neck and whispering, “I can smell you, too.” Then she sped outside.

  His fangs lowered at the quick bite of pain. He wanted her to latch onto it and suck. He wanted the bite of her fangs in his skin as she drank and licked and… The growl ripped from his throat when he caught her scent on the breeze and his eyes turned toward the bow. There. A white finger curled over the rail. She was hanging over the port side. He stripped off the loose pants he’d been wearing and slipped silently into the water, moving around the boat until he was right under her, then Terry leapt up and grabbed her legs, pulling her into the sea.

  She fought him, twisting in the black water until the bubbles churned around them both, fighting up toward the surface, but he pulled her back down with a laugh. Her heart was thumping, and her amnis…

  Suddenly Terry stilled. She continued to fight him, slashing her nails toward his throat and trying to fight out of his grip.

  She was frightened.

  He spun her around in his arms and shouted, “Gemma!” as loud as he could under the water. His amnis reached out and enfolded her body, which was stiff as a board. She clutched at his neck with wide eyes.

  “You’re fine,” he said again, the last of the air leaving his lungs as he continued to try to sooth her. I have you, he mouthed. I have you.

  Why was she frightened? She could stay underwater for hours, if she wanted. Hadn’t she ever tried it? Surely, at some point…

  Gemma was frozen in his arms, wrapped in his power and slowly coming out of the unexpected panic. He swam toward the small trap door on the hull, pressing the hidden buttons that would release the catch, then he pulled her in and held her against him as he waited for the hatch to close behind him and the water to drain. When it did, he released the second set of doors, dragging a silent Gemma into the cozy paneled chamber that took the place of the stateroom.

  “Gemma?” He grabbed a towel and stripped her clothes off. He was cold, dammit. His skin usually matched the temperature of the air around him, which meant at the moment it was as cool as the water they’d been swimming in. It would take a while for his amnis to warm his body up. “Gemma?”

  “I’m fine.” She snatched the towel from his hands and twisted away. “You just surprised me.”

  “Why are you scared of water?”

  He should have been expecting the punch, but it knocked him back into the luxurious pillows in the corner of the room.

  “I’m not afraid of water. It can’t hurt me.”

  “I know that.”

  She sniffed and pressed the towel to her face. “You surprised me. That’s all. Well done.”

  Not well done at all, in his opinion, but he didn’t press the point. If Gemma didn’t want to admit the weakness to him, it was her business.

  Or was it? He was her husband. Her partner. Still, he was reluctant to shatter whatever had bloomed between them at dinner. For a few minutes, they’d been relaxed. Playful. Neither trying to best the other.
It hadn’t been a battle of wits or bodies, but a delicate kind of dance they were both enjoying.

  Then he had to fuck it up.

  She’d never been strictly comfortable around water. She was an earth vampire, obviously, so it wasn’t her element, but it couldn’t kill her. Had she drowned in her human life? When Gemma was human, swimming wasn’t something women usually learned. He knew she was from inland. Terry had grown up along a river and had been at home in the water for as long as he could remember.

  “I’m sorry,” he finally said. “If you like, I’ll find shelter somewhere else. The bedroom is yours.”

  Her shoulders relaxed a little. “It’s fine.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “You don’t have to sleep in the water, Terry.”

  He tried to lighten the mood. “Do I get points for offering?”

  A glint came back to her eyes. “No.”

  “Why not?” He rose and walked to her, flicking on the small heater to banish the chill from the damp air. He grabbed another towel from a cupboard and knelt down, looking up as he ran the soft cotton over her legs.

  “Because…” Her eyes softened as she watched him.

  Over her knees. Up her thighs. The towel draped over his hands as he slowly stood, running his fingers over her damp skin. Her hips and belly.

  “Because why?”

  He didn’t even remember what they’d been talking about. Lord, he wanted her. He was hard as a rock and aching to be in her, but Terry held himself back. He was more interested in banishing the tension from her shoulders, the guarded expression from her eyes. He slowly moved the towel up her body until he was standing in front of her.

  “Because…”

  “Will you stay with me today, Gemma?”

  “Promise not to kidnap me again?”

  He smiled and pressed the length of her hair between his hands to dry it. “Promise.” He draped the towel over her shoulders and rubbed his hands over her arms.

  “Then I’ll stay. For now.”

  Stay forever. He bent down and kissed her, his desire tightly leashed as he tortured her with soft lips and gentle hands. He felt her try to pull them back into more aggressive territory as she walked him to the bed, but Terry would not be deterred. He continued to meet her demanding lips with gentleness. It was too easy, he realized. Too easy to grab for the flash and the explosion when he wanted the low, slow burn of desire between them. Terry wanted more.

  He wanted more of Gemma, not the body she offered, but the heart she guarded.

  Terry wanted it, and he would have it.

  Or, she might kill him when she found out he had no intention of ever letting her leave him. That was a definite possibility, too.

  Chapter Four

  London, 1885

  Gemma was late for the party. She hated being late. Ironically, that night she was purposefully late. It wouldn’t do to arrive at Juliette’s early. After all, she hadn’t been seen in London immortal society for over fifteen years. An entrance was called for.

  As the coach rolled up to the glittering house outside of the city, Gemma wondered again at the multiple invitations to the high society party. Francis Winthrop had asked her to accompany him. She’d debated for a few moments, but considering she didn’t want her first appearance back in London to be in the retinue of the current vampire lord, Gemma declined. Their hostess for the evening, an old friend, had already invited her. She would see Francis there. Maybe she’d be able to ascertain why, exactly, he wanted Gemma at his side.

  The door to the carriage opened. “Ms. Melcombe. Welcome.”

  “Thank you.” She accepted the gracious hand down, thankful for the more understated bustle she’d brought from Paris. The English fashions were ridiculously unwieldy.

  “If you would come this way, Ms. Melcombe.” The human held out a hand toward the glittering entrance. He smelled absolutely mouth-watering.

  Julie, Julie, what are you feeding the help these days? A small smile flirted around her mouth. And can I borrow this one for the evening?

  She saw the hostess almost immediately upon entering the house. “Mrs. Daubry!” She walked toward Juliette. “How are you?”

  Her old friend held out a hand, then greeted her with a kiss on both cheeks, much to Gemma’s pleasure. “You smell like Paris. I’m horribly jealous.” Her friend’s accent may have faded in her seventy years in England, but every now and then, Juliette Daubry let it out to play.

  “It’s the perfume, my dear. I have a wonderful new man that makes it for me. Very keen nose for a human.”

  Juliette sent a careless wave toward her husband, a minor earl that someone had turned around forty years before, probably for his fortune. Luckily, the Englishman had enough sense to remain alive long enough to marry her friend, who was older and more savvy about vampire politics. They seemed happy enough, in Gemma’s opinion. A good match for them both, though one that Gemma did not envy in the least.

  The two vampires linked arms and began to stroll the room.

  “We haven’t had a chance to meet until now,” Gemma said in a low voice, conscious of the many ears around them. “What have I missed?”

  “Very little. You know how it is.” Juliette waved an arm around the room. “Look at all these beautiful old people. Lovely, rich, and boring. Tell me about Paris. Things are always more interesting there.”

  “And more unstable. Why did Francis ask me to accompany him tonight? Is his position secure? Is my information faulty?” Gemma had long been accustomed to vampires in power, particularly males, courting her favor. Her sire was one of the oldest in the British Isles. Her brother was the power behind anyone who ruled Ireland. She had two brothers in Northern France who were quickly making names for themselves. Gemma’s clan was powerful and rich. Attention was to be expected, but she’d moved back to London to enjoy a break from politics.

  “Francis is fine,” Juliette said. “I’m trying to think of any major challenge in the last ten years, to be honest. There hasn’t been, that I know of. Probably in part due to his new second.”

  “Who is it?”

  “A nobody.” Juliette shrugged at Gemma’s questioning look. “Truly. No one knows where he comes from. He’s certainly English, according to his horrid accent, but other than that…” Another lazy shrug and a pout. “No one knows.”

  “Water vampire?”

  “Of course. Everyone assumes Francis sired him after he found him in a dingy alley, but no one asks.”

  “Naturally.” Gemma’s eyes scanned the room for new faces. There were a sprinkling of unfamiliars, but all in the company of vampires Gemma knew. Lots of humans, some for sport and others present for their business of social connections. No one who fit Juliette’s description.

  “Is he loyal?” For some reason, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Someone was watching her. She whipped her head around, but spotted no one.

  Juliette’s attention had been drawn across the room by a pair of humans in military attire. “Who?”

  Gemma smiled to herself. Her friend always did have a taste for a man in uniform. “This new second, is he loyal to Francis?”

  She may not have wanted the close connection that Francis did, but she did like the vampire. She considered him a friend. Even more, he was a known entity. Gemma had just moved back to England. She didn’t relish having to navigate through an unfamiliar power structure when she’d rather be exploring the new shops or riding the horse she’d just had transported from Belgium.

  “Follows him around like a loyal guard dog.” Juliette narrowed in on the two humans. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about. I’m famished, my friend. You?”

  Gemma eyed the two men. One was tall and blond, the other had dark curls that reminded her of someone she knew. “How very indelicate to mention it, Julie. The dark one is mine.”

  “Greedy.” The men stood, red-faced by the women’s obvious attentions.

  “Come, Major.” Juliette once again
took advantage of her fetching accent and laid a bare hand on the man’s wrist. “Come with me.”

  Blinking through the amnis that had flooded his mind, the blond officer nodded. Gemma quickly laid her hands on the other, leading him to the garden where a dark corner waited. She felt her fangs grow long as the man’s scent hit her nose. She’d been waiting for days to truly drink, knowing that Juliette always had the most delicious humans at her parties. But as she sunk her fangs into the man’s soft neck and he let out a quiet groan of pleasure, she felt it again.

  Watching. Someone was watching her. There was a frisson of energy that snaked toward her, even as she drank her fill of the rich blood in her arms. A teasing, testing waft of amnis curled and twisted along the ground. It snaked along her angles in the misty night, until Gemma spun, furious to be distracted from her meal. She heard the human sag against the hedge.

  “Who disturbs me?” she said just loud enough to be heard.

  She heard his low laugh as he walked out of the fog. “So sorry to interrupt your meal, m’lady.”

  The vampire was nothing more than a looming shadow outlined by the lights of the house. He stood like a dark omen with the evening fog swirling around him. Gemma lifted her chin, making no move to wipe away the blood she could feel at the edge of her mouth. Her fangs were still long and throbbing.

  “I highly doubt you are truly sorry. And I am no lady.”

  “Is that so?” He stepped forward and Gemma forced herself to remain still. “That’s the best news I’ve heard tonight.”

  Her lip curled for a moment, but when the unknown vampire walked out of the shadows, she closed her mouth to conceal her reaction.

  Power.

  He radiated it. It was young and untamed, but it poured off him in waves. Not the old, formidable strength she’d come to associate with the oldest of their kind, but a quick lash that seemed to spark and jump around him. A water vampire. The evening fog clung to him, curling around his legs like a cat as he strode through the night.

  His eyes locked with hers. Young, yes, but not intimidated. His eyes were blue-grey like the northern oceans, and his body was powerful. Broad shoulders over narrow hips. Strong legs. An athlete’s body. Unlike most men in her circles, this man made no effort to conceal his brute strength. Gemma doubted he could have if he tried. His sandy hair was not combed fashionably, but cropped close to his head, and his cheeks sported a dark stubble that told Gemma he had little use for the careful grooming most vampires adhered to in the modern age.