been one of the greatest joys of her human life. And a twinge of
guilt went through her that she'd deprived Francesca of hers. She hated they'd been apart all
these centuries.
But that had been Francesca's decision, not hers.
Sighing, she rode the elevator up to the room, and as soon as she pushed open the door
she felt the need to go downstairs and hurt Andrei and Raluca . To say the place was tacky
would be an insult to tackiness. The suite was large and airy, with blood-red walls that were
decorated with every kind of woodcutting imaginable that depicted impalements.
She rolled her eyes as she headed for the bedroom, then stopped dead in her tracks. Unlike
the sitting room, this one was done in black, white, and gray and was identical to the
bedroom from Bela Lugosi's Dracula, where he'd bitten his fair maiden.
"You people are sick," Retta said, grateful that at least in here there were no reminders of
her father.
Setting her suitcase down, she peeled her coat away from her body as she toed off her
shoes, then headed for the bed. She'd take a little nap to get the edge off her exhaustion
and then she'd see about finding a rental car to get back to the airport. One way or another,
she was going to get out of this place and go home.
She pulled the covers back and tucked herself into the large bed that cushioned her like a
cloud, and before she knew it, she was sound asleep.
But her sleep was far from peaceful. In her dreams, she could hear her father's voice calling
out to her. She could see Velkan delivering the death blow that had ended her father's life as
his serpent emblem drifted through her mind, over all the images.
You are the daughter of the dragon… Death to the Danestis .
She came awake with a start. Retta lay silent as she listened to a fierce wind whipping
against her windows. But that wasn't what had disturbed her.
She sensed a foreign presence in the room. It was powerful and frightening.
Reacting on pure instinct, she quickly rolled to her feet and struck out at where she sensed
the presence. There was nothing there but air.
Now the presence was behind her.
She whirled about to confront the intruder only to find herself face-to-face with the last person
she expected.
Velkan .
He stared at her with eyes so black she couldn't even tell where the iris stopped and the
pupil began. Dressed in a pair of jeans and a tight black shirt, he wore his long, wavy black
hair pulled back into a ponytail. He still had the same sharply chiseled features. The same
feral look that announced to the world this was a man who not only could take your life but
one who would relish the killing.
God, he was unbelievably sexy. Tall and commanding, he made every part of her warm and
breathless. And as she stood toe-to-toe with him, she was tormented by images of being
held between those muscular arms while he made love to her. Of being kissed by that
perfect mouth. Of fingering the long scar that ran from the outer corner of his left eye to his
chin. A scar that in no way detracted from the beauty of that masculine face. If anything it
added to it.
She couldn't even think as a wave of pent-up emotions seared her to the spot.
Velkan couldn't breathe as he stared into eyes so blue they reminded him of the summer sky
he'd not seen in over five hundred years. The scent of her hung heavy in his nostrils,
reminding him of a time when that scent had clung to his body. Her skin was still as pale as
a snowy field. Her hair the deep auburn red of a fox.
Not once in all these centuries had he forgotten her beauty. Her scent. The sound of her
voice calling out to him.
The sound of her voice cursing him to death.
It was a mistake to be here. He knew it.
Still he was here, staring at a woman he wanted desperately to kiss.
A woman he wanted to kill. He'd given her everything he had and more, and in return she'd
spat at him. He hated her for that even as a buried part of him loved her still.