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  “For a year?”

  She stepped forward, and Terry caught a glimpse of her slight figure underneath the pale blue dress. The current fashions suited her refined beauty. Everything suited her. Always had. “Feel free to verify that, if you must, but I had nothing to do with Francis’s death. And even if I’d been here, I never suspected—”

  “Aye, none of us did.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw and moved to the desk at the center of the room, trying to ignore his reaction to her. Over fifty years acquaintance had proven it was not something she shared. Still, unlike the others he dealt with lately, Gemma had been a true, if wary, friend of Winthrop’s. “Why are you here, Ms. Melcombe?”

  “You have a boy in custody.”

  “I have many in custody. They’re mine by conquest.”

  “No one is disputing that. I came here to ask for mercy.”

  The Ice Queen wanted a favor of him? His grieving heart wanted to reject it. His brain told him to hear her out.

  “Who is it?”

  “A kinsman’s youngest son. A member of my clan. He is… young. And not the most circumspect in his connections.”

  “You could say that. The name?”

  “Rene. Rene Dupont. He is my brother Guy’s youngest child.”

  “How do you know I haven’t killed him already?”

  She paused. “Have you?”

  Terry held her blue eyes for a few long moments. “No.”

  “Then I ask for mercy.”

  “Why should I give him mercy? I’ve killed everyone even remotely connected with my sire’s death. Why should he be different?”

  “He is only twenty years immortal. He fell in with foolish friends, but he has no ambition. I promise, he was not a part of the plot to murder your sire. He was drawn in by his crowd. That is all.”

  Terry leaned back and closed his eyes. If he could feel exhausted, he would. As it was, it was summer and the nights were short. He had little time to deal with the problems in front of him before his human security would have to take over.

  “Ms. Melcombe—”

  “Terry.” She stepped forward, her eyes pleading. “Francis was my friend. I would never intervene if I thought the boy had anything to do with his death. Guy is frantic. He will make restitution for his son’s actions. His business in France is not insubstantial, nor is his influence. He can offer money—”

  “I don’t want your bloody money.” His voice was low and furious. “Is that why you’re here? To offer me money?”

  Her jaw tightened and her eyes narrowed. “What do you want?”

  “From your brother? Nothing.” He didn’t need allies in France, but for the clan of Carwyn ap Bryn to owe the new leader of London a favor…

  He could almost see Gemma’s mind working behind her clear gaze. “Who then? My father? You want his support? You’re the new leader of London. You’re young.” Her face came alive at the political manipulations. “If you agree to release Rene, my father could throw his support behind you. My brother in Ireland—”

  “You’ve powerful family in Scotland, as well.” Terry should have known she’d figure it out quickly. So smart. His blood stirred at the sight of her.

  “I do.” Her eyes lit in triumph. “So, do we have a deal? Rene’s freedom for the tacit approval of your succession?”

  Such a clever girl. Was it wrong that he wanted to ruffle her just to get a reaction?

  “No.”

  She blinked in surprise. “No?”

  “No.” He felt a tickling on his cheek. It was the blood of his most recent victim starting to dry. He wiped it away with the back of his fingers, knowing a smear of red would remain. Good. Let her see it. “I have the city. I don’t need your clan’s approval.”

  “We’re not offering approval, Mr. Ramsay—”

  “Good. I was Winthrop’s son and second for over sixty years. I avenged his death. I have killed the majority of my enemies in front of the city’s population. I do not need your approval to take over.”

  Her lip began to curl in disdain. “So you mean to reject the support of my family and—”

  “Your family would have supported me anyway, Ms. Melcombe. They have nothing I want or need.”

  She didn’t miss his emphasis. He tried not to smile. In the chaos and grief of the past three nights, sparring with Gemma Melcombe was a bright spot of light.

  “They don’t have anything you need?”

  “Nothing that would tempt me to release Rene.” Let her think he’d been planning to kill the boy. He hadn’t decided one way or another until she’d showed up. Knowing the young vampire’s age and connections would have been enough to sway him, but then she’d started offering all sorts of bribes he hadn’t even planned on. He was curious what she’d offer next.

  She took a cautious step forward, her eyes growing colder by the minute. “And what would tempt you?”

  He smirked. “Lots of things, luv.”

  “Is that so?”

  She was so damn proper. But that fire behind her eyes… it drew him in. She may have been cold and impersonal on the outside, but Terry would bet she was a thing of beauty when riled. How much, exactly, would it take to rile her?

  “Have anything on you, Gemma?” Bloody hell, her name tasted sweet in his mouth. He wanted to say it again. Wanted to shout it. Moan it. Tease his own name from her lips. “Anything that might tempt me?”

  Faster than he could blink, she leaned forward, baring her fangs. “You foolish boy! I come here offering a fair bargain, and you throw it in my face? Who do you think you are?”

  He stood, deliberately calm though the blood rushed in his veins. “I’m the vampire who holds your brother’s child. I’m the lord of this city now, and I’m the man who has a dozen vicious guards, human and vampire, within shouting distance.”

  “That only works if you have a tongue to shout, impudent boy.”

  Terry couldn’t hold back the shout of laughter. Oh, she was magnificent. He had to have her as a lover. But not just yet. He’d sneak up on her till she thought the whole plan had been her idea in the first place. Forget London, Gemma Melcombe would be his greatest conquest.

  “Gemma?”

  “What?” Her eyes were blazing. Her fangs were bared. Her hands curled into claws that were moments away from scratching his eyes out. And she could, he had no doubt.

  “I’m not going to kill Rene.”

  Oh, he loved throwing her off-balance. She actually took a small step back. “You’re not?”

  “I only want one thing.” He slowly walked around the desk so that he was standing beside her. He was close enough to feel the warm hum of her skin. He even thought he saw her heart pulse once in the ivory skin of her neck.

  “What do you want?” Her voice had dropped. Rough with anger and… desire? Just a hint, but it was there. He’d take it.

  “A kiss.”

  “You want a kiss?”

  “One kiss from you, and the boy goes free.”

  She slid a predatory gaze upward. “One kiss and Rene comes with me tonight? One kiss is all?”

  “That’s all.” He was starting to regret this. One kiss wouldn’t be nearly enough.

  “Fine.” Without warning, she rose and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Where’s Rene?”

  He grinned as he slid an arm around her waist, pulling her into his chest as his mouth slowly descended. “That’s not a kiss, luv.”

  As their lips met, a spark lit the air between them. Water and earth didn’t meet with a clash. His amnis slowly lapped up her skin, teasing and testing as his hands pulled her closer. Terry’s fangs descended, and he ran his tongue along her lower lip, begging for entry.

  Gemma hesitated for only a moment before she gave in. Her lips softened. Her hands gripped the blood-stained collar of his jacket. He knew she could pull away at any moment. Knew her power eclipsed his. The fact that she didn’t was intoxicating.

  She was so warm. He pulled away for only a second to fill his nose
with the scent of her. Roses and jasmine. The earthy smell of fresh rain on grass. She smelled of all that and more. The rigid set of her shoulders relaxed as he held her. Her mouth was as greedy as his, and he groaned into it. She was clean and beautiful and light. She was—

  “Enough!”

  Gemma pushed him away with a sudden shove. Terry stepped back, as unbalanced as she appeared to be. That had been… far more than a kiss.

  “Gemma.” His voice sounded like he’d been smoking all night.

  “That’s enough. Where’s Rene?”

  “That’s enough?” He gave a low chuckle. “That wasn’t nearly enough.”

  “It was enough for our deal. I want my nephew.”

  Terry eyed her for a moment, then nodded. “Roger?”

  His lieutenant stepped through the door. “Yes, boss?”

  “Take Ms. Melcombe to Mr. Dupont. He will be released into her custody before he leaves England.”

  Roger nodded, then Terry spoke to Gemma. “He’s not welcome back. If I hear word of him in England while I rule here, I’ll kill him, Gemma. See to it he understands. He doesn’t get another chance.”

  She nodded, all business. “Understood.”

  “And give my respects to your father. His unreserved support is greatly appreciated by Francis Winthrop’s successor.”

  Her eyes turned cold again, and she strode from the room. Terry let her go without another word. Let her take her brother’s boy back to him. Let her set up house again in his city. Let her slowly lower her guard. He’d be waiting. He’d be patient. After all, he had the time. And what he’d said to her was true. One kiss wasn’t nearly enough.

  “Cassiopeia.”

  “Where?”

  “Just there, see?” She held out her finger, tracing the jagged line that crossed the northern sky. “The folds of her dress. Back and forth.”

  “I liked your wedding dress. Did I tell you that?” They were laying on the deck of the Conquest, spotting constellations. She was far better than he’d thought she’d be, but then, she’d had more than enough time to study. He’d pulled off out every cushion from the boat’s cabin, thrown them into a pile, and pulled her down to lie next to him.

  “Thank you, but I didn’t pick my dress out. The designer did.”

  He reached over and chuffed her under the chin. “Unsentimental girl, Gem. It’s a good thing there was a photographer there. I’d like a proper picture of you in it.”

  “Just make sure we have every negative, Terry. Every single one. Digital files, too.”

  “You worry too much. And you’ve already told Mina. She’ll take care of it.” He paused and pointed. “Orion.”

  “The hunter. Friend of the moon-goddess.” She pointed again. “Draco.”

  “Where?”

  “Right there, silly.” She scooted closer. “See? The long snaking—”

  “I’ll show you something long and snaking.”

  She burst into laughter, bumping her forehead against his shoulder. “So mature.”

  “I try. Show me more.”

  “Ursa minor. Andromeda.”

  “I wasn’t talking about stars, woman.”

  “Haha. You have a one track mind. There’s Perseus.”

  Terry smiled. “You know them all, don’t you?”

  “Yes. And all the stories that go with them. The stars don’t change much. It’s the same sky I saw when I was a human. Odd, really. Everything else changes.” She’d been subdued since he’d risen that night, purposefully keeping their conversations light. They were approaching their home in Spain with every passing night, and Terry hoped he would have enough time.

  “Did you ever go to school?”

  She shook her head with a frown. “Not as a human. Later of course. Much later. I studied at the Sorbonne shortly before we met. Do you remember? I’d been in Paris. It was because of the university.”

  He laughed. “Why?”

  She shrugged, looking strangely bashful. “Just because I could, I suppose. Ioan thought I was silly, too. But I liked it. Liked being around all the girls who were so young. So alive. It reminded me of… the past, I suppose. I haven’t been that young or naive in so long.”

  “Wise.” He reached over, tracing a finger along the arch of her eyebrow. “My wife is wise. I prefer that to naive.”

  “Terry…”

  It was working. Slowly but surely, the water was sloughing off the rocky wall she’d built around her heart. He tried not to be impatient.

  “Do you remember the first time you kissed me?”

  “Right after you’d taken London? Isn’t that the first time you kissed me?”

  “You kissed me back. You were exactly what I needed to see that night. Pulled me back from the edge, I think.”

  “You were so angry.”

  He reached over and picked up her hand, weaving their fingers together. “Angry, yes. Grieving. A bit mad with grief, I think. I lost Francis and my brother in the same night.”

  Gemma’s thumb stroked the back of his hand. This was the piece of them that no one else saw. The little moments they’d shared for years that had made him fall in love with her. She was a caretaker at heart, his Gemma. She had a need to care for others that few understood. If she had to bash heads and kill to do it… well, that just made her an excellent vampire.

  “You thinking about your brother?”

  She gave a sharp nod and he pulled her closer, silently begging to let him give her comfort. He had that night. The night they had killed her brother’s murderers she’d come to him, full of rage and grief. He’d loved her as she’d needed it. Wild and fierce to remind herself she was alive. Then slow and quiet, to remind himself that she was safe. That she was his.

  “Terry?” Her words were muffled against his chest.

  “Hmm?”

  “Do you—” She hesitated. “Do you love me?”

  He let out a slow breath, cursing his luck. He wouldn’t lie to her. He couldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them.

  “Fuck.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes.”

  Chapter Six

  He loved her.

  Terry loved her.

  He didn’t sound happy about it, but then she could hardly blame him. She hadn’t planned for this.

  She had never planned for Terry. In her centuries of life, he was the one person Gemma had never managed to fit into any box. The one who had never behaved as she predicted. A more infuriating, stubborn, arrogant partner she couldn’t have found in all the world. And he loved her.

  His voice was rough when he finally spoke. “Listen, Gem—”

  “I’m horribly afraid of the ocean.” She lay in his arms, frozen by her admission. “I know it’s not rational, but when I’m on land, everything makes sense. In the ocean, nothing does.”

  He paused for a moment, then said softly, “You know it can’t hurt you.”

  “I do know that. Rationally, I know that. It’s not logical. Father thinks I had an accident when I was human. There’s much about my human years I simply don’t remember. But I remember the earth. From the first night I woke, I remember feeling it beneath me. The life. The strength. It was…”

  “Security?”

  “It was everything. To this day, I could be walking through Piccadilly, but I still feel it. Not as strong, perhaps, but there. Always. That quiet hum in my bones. It’s everything. Security, yes. Strength. Power.”

  “But on water—”

  “I’m cut off. Imagine floating above the earth with no tether.”

  “Adrift.”

  She gave a tight nod. “Yes. Smothered and empty, all at the same time.”

  They lay silent for a few more minutes, still holding hands and staring up into the night sky. She tried to imagine what expression he wore. Would he be angry? Disappointed? When he finally nudged her to the side, his face was very carefully blank. Not angry, not triumphant at her admission of weakness. Certainly not concerned.

  �
�You know…” He propped his head up in his hand and played with a piece of her hair. For some reason, the familiar habit soothed her. “It’s still there, Gem. The earth. It’s still under the water.”

  She broke in. “I know. Rivers don’t really bother me. Or lakes. But the ocean—”

  “It’s still there, luv. Underneath all the sea, the earth remains, just as it’s always been. It’s what the water rests on, isn’t it?” He leaned over and gently kissed her forehead. “You’re thinking of it all wrong. The ocean flows over the earth, it doesn’t smother it.”

  She took a deep, unnecessary breath to calm herself. “I know.”

  “And the sand drifts through it. Volcanos press up. The earth… it’s what shapes the water. Gives it direction.”

  Gemma felt unexpected tears come to the corner of her eyes. She cleared her throat. “You’re a poet, Terry.”

  “Want me to curse again? Just to make you feel better?” He pinched her waist teasingly. “Bugger the ocean. You’re tougher than a great drink of water.”

  She couldn’t hold in the laugh.

  “Stiff upper lip, old girl. What would the Queen say?”

  She punched him. “Shut up.”

  Now he was laughing, too. “Dammit, Gemma, are you an Englishwoman or not? You live on a great, bloody island after all. Do your ancestors proud!”

  “You’re crazy.”

  He grabbed her and pulled her in for a quick, heart-thumping kiss. “Aye. I am. For lots of reasons.”

  Like loving me.

  “Listen… Terry—”

  “Come on.” He was already standing, holding out his hand. “Let’s go.”

  “Where?” She took it, and he pulled her to her feet.

  “For a swim.”

  Gemma dug in her heels the instant he pulled harder. “No.”

  “Yes.” He stopped and turned to her. “Do you trust me?”

  Did she? Yes. However complicated her feelings for Terry might have been, she did trust him.

  She was still hesitating when he said, “You’ve never run from anything in your life. Don’t be a coward, Gemma Melcombe.”

  Well, that did it. She couldn’t back down now. Terry challenging her was the surest way to make her stubborn about something, and he knew it. He did it just to be contrary at times.