Master of Seduction Read online

  A slender figure stepped into the room, wearing a black Tayunita County uniform, a gun in her hand. Her expression was grim and cold. “Police!” she said in a sharp, icy voice, weapon aimed squarely in the center of Don’s chest. “Put the gun down, Mr. Gordon.”

  Rachel drew in a breath. It felt fucking weird to look at herself, not in a mirror or recording, but as if she were someone else.

  Don jerked around, pointing his gun at the simulated Rachel. “What the hell are you doing waltzing into my house? You didn’t even knock!”

  “You gave me probable cause with that live streamed death threat on Facebook. Drop the weapon and kick it over to me.”

  “Fuck you! You get out of my house before I put a bullet in your brain.”

  “Daddy!” The four-year-old sobbed, lunging toward him, forcing her mother to tighten her grip and sidestep to keep from dropping her.

  “Drop the gun,” the Rachel simulation ordered. “I will not tell you again, sir. Drop. It.”

  “Daddy!” Emily wailed. “Don’t hurt my daddy!”

  “Dad, don’t!” Amy yelled.

  “Shut up!” Don screamed. “Shut the hell up!” He swung his gun toward them, his face contorted with rage.

  “Freeze it,” Nathan ordered. Around them, all the figures stopped in mid-motion, like a freeze frame. For a long moment, he and Rachel studied the scene. “Doesn’t look to me as if you had a lot of alternatives.”

  She moved from her simulation to Don, then paced the distance to his three targets. At last she shook her head. “I’m not seeing anything. I really am too far from him to disarm him, and too far from them to knock them out of the way. Which is pretty much what I thought to begin with, so at least there’s that.”

  “Continue,” Nathan said.

  The simulation jumped in front of Don’s gun. The double report as they both fired was deafening -- totally unlike the thin pops she remembered. Both shooters went down at the same time, Rachel’s simulation hitting her knees as Gordon toppled.

  Her gaze fell on Eileen and Amy, standing huddled together with the little girl. Both the woman and the teen wore expressions of disbelief that gave way to relief. Then, a moment later, to guilt.

  “Daddy, daddy…”

  “Freeze it,” Nathan ordered, cutting off the child’s scream.

  “I didn’t realize how fast it happened,” Rachel said hoarsely. “It seemed to take so much longer than that.”

  “Adrenaline does that. It doesn’t really slow down time, but it does give that illusion.”

  She moved to crouch over Don’s crumpled body. “His mother told a reporter I could’ve shot him in the arm.”

  Nathan lifted a dark brow. “Funny, you don’t look like the Lone Ranger.”

  “I sure hope not.” Rachel snorted. “I aimed center mass because that’s what we’re taught in the Academy. Arms and legs are risky targets with lives on the line.” She considered it, then shrugged. “What the hell, I’ve always been a good shot. Let me try it.” She moved over to where the Rachel simulation had been standing when Don pointed his gun at his wife and kids.

  There was a disorienting flash. Suddenly she found herself standing in the same location as the simulated Rachel a moment before, looking down the barrel of Don’s gun.

  “Shut up!” Don bellowed. “Shut the hell up!” He swung his semi-auto toward his wife and children, his face contorted and red with rage. Rachel switched her aim to his weapon arm, high on his shoulder. The two weapons thundered.

  This time the little girl screamed. Her mother shrieked, “Emily!”

  The man staggered with a shout of pain, clutching his wounded shoulder. The pistol tumbled from his hand even as Emily started to fall from her mother’s arms.

  “Bitch!” Don roared, and dove on the gun, grabbing it with his left hand and pointing it at her. Distracted by the sight of Emily limp and bloody in her hysterical mother’s arms, she was too late bringing her gun up again.

  This time the baseball bat hit her in the head.

  * * *

  When Rachel opened her eyes, she stood in the dojo.

  Nathan looked disgusted. “And that, boys and girls, is why you don’t shoot people in the arm.”

  “No shit.” She probed her forehead gingerly, looking for the bullet wound. There wasn’t one, of course.

  He eyed her, visibly unhappy. “I trust that answers your questions.”

  “Is that really what would’ve happened?”

  Nathan shrugged. “I have no idea. There are a lot of factors at play, and you can’t really predict all of them. But those circlets act like magical computers -- they’re designed to create the most likely result of whatever action you take in the simulation.”

  “In that case, I prefer the outcome I got in real life,” Rachel said, pulling off the circlet and handing it over. He took off his own and put both back in the wooden case.

  Watching him, she blew out a breath. She felt oddly… light, as if a weight had disappeared from her shoulders. She’d had to kill a man, yes, and she’d left a child without a father. She knew she’d carry the weight of that act for a long time, a reminder she could never make such decisions hastily. But the simulation had brought home that she could have made worse choices.

  Ultimately, Don Gordon had forced her to choose between the lives of innocents and killing him. He could have surrendered, but he’d been too determined to make those who loved him pay for the slight to his ego. The responsibility for his death was his.

  She took another long, relieved breath, and smiled. Really smiled.

  She lost the relief when Nathan said, “We’ve still got two hours until dawn.”

  Time enough for the Gift. Oh God.

  * * *

  As Nathan watched, Rachel’s eyes widened, and the peace of a moment before gave way to anxiety. She glanced away, as if not wanting him to read her fear. He didn’t tell her that her scent gave her away with its acrid tang. “I… uh… I need a shower.” Her dark gaze slid to his, then away. “Alone. I need a little time to think.”

  “Sure,” he said easily. “The house has more than one bathroom and a magical water heater. You can use the one in the master bedroom, and I’ll take one of the guest rooms.”

  She nodded, turned, and strode from the room just short of running. He watched her go, then went to put the circlet box away in the armoire.

  Actually, she wasn’t the only one who needed time to think. He felt every bit as shaken as she did. He simply hid it better.

  Nathan stood for moment, staring blankly at the selection of gleaming weapons. An image flashed to his mind: the bark of Gordon’s gun, Rachel falling backward with a bullet hole in her forehead.

  Just a simulation. And yet when the bastard bent and picked up his gun, it had been all Nathan could do not to leap on him and beat him like a drum.

  The idea of the whole exercise had been to give her an opportunity to see what would have happened if she’d done something different. He was not supposed to interfere, but his instincts had howled in protest like starving wolves.

  He’d never felt so damned out of control.

  Nathan had trained plenty of rookie agents and never had any trouble whatsoever letting them handle their tests on their own.

  Not that it was the first time he’d lost his shit when Rachel was endangered. Look at the way he’d hacked at Super Chicken after it tried to eat her. The idea of the simulation had been to see how she worked with a partner in a combat situation. Nathan had planned to hang back, observe what she did, maybe even make himself a target for the raptor to see how she handled it. Instead he’d gone after the creature as if it was a real threat.

  It had been fucking irrational. He’d known that at the time, and yet he’d found himself doing it anyway.

  Standing by and watching Gordon shoot her had been even worse.

  It was only when Nathan heard the hiss of water coming from upstairs that he realized he’d been standing staring into the open armoire
for several minutes. Prodded, he closed its twin doors and headed off in search of a shower in the nearest guest room.

  What the hell is she doing to me? Never mind, the answer to that was obvious. I guess I owe Galahad an apology. He’d given his friend hell a decade ago when the knight had fallen like a brick for Caroline Lang, a brand-new Maja Galahad had only known a matter of days. Nathan had told him he’d mistaken infatuation for love.

  Now Nathan understood just how far it was possible to fall, just how fast. This was definitely no infatuation.

  He’d slept with too many women over the past four centuries to let his dick do his thinking for him. Known too many incredible Majae to mistake respect and friendship for love.

  I love Rachel Kent.

  Nathan stopped dead in the doorway of the guest room as the thought hit him with the impact of a bullet, shredding his old life, his old conception of himself. The shocking thing was that it didn’t hurt at all.

  His lips curved into a manic grin. I love Rachel Kent.

  And I just spent the last forty-eight hours demonstrating what an asshole I can be.

  The grin vanished.

  Chapter Seven

  Rachel stared at her reflection in the vanity mirror. Her hair was still wet from her shower, and drops of water slid down her face like tears. I did it. I’m about to become a Maja.

  When she’d been a little girl, she and the other Kent kids had played Magekind, the girls throwing imaginary spells, the boys swinging wooden swords and pretending to turn into wolves. Yet out of five generations of Kents, she was the only one chosen.

  But all she could think of was that fucking dream -- of going mad and throwing a fireball at Nathan. Watching him burn like a torch. The other nightmares of the Gordon shooting had tormented her with horror and guilt, but none of them had triggered such cold, absolute terror.

  Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not going to happen. The Council chose me, and the odds are I won’t go insane. But when she pictured Nathan burning, those odds didn’t seem nearly good enough.

  Swallowing, she rubbed both hands over her face to wipe away the water as a cold realization rolled over her. I can’t do this.

  Aloud, she told her reflection, “Yes, you can. You’re strong.” She made herself remember the cool, determined face of the Rachel simulation. That woman wasn’t a coward.

  That woman wasn’t in love with Nathan Allard. I am.

  In the mirror, her reflected eyes went wide as the realization slammed into her. No. Oh no. I’m not that big an idiot. And as Oriana had told her more than once, only an idiot fell for a Court Seducer. Some of them were honest, but some, like Dominic Bonnhome, told whatever lie they had to do the job. Then after you changed, they dropped you and went on to the next sucker.

  Nathan’s not like that. He never lied. He was too brutally honest, and his sense of honor was too acute. Far from lying to get her to agree, he hadn’t sugarcoated the cost of being an immortal: You’re going to end up fighting and killing. You’re going to end up watching everyone you love die. Not only your mother and father, but your sister and your nieces and your nephews.

  Yet as painful as the thought of those losses were, the idea she might kill Nathan was worse. She knew -- really knew -- she wouldn’t survive that. Not just figuratively, either; Oriana and half the Majae in Avalon would wipe her off the planet.

  A thought she found perversely comforting. If she hurt Nathan, she’d need killing.

  I can’t do this. Rachel had never considered herself a coward, but when it came to Nathan… I’d rather be a coward than Nathan’s murderer.

  She was going to have to tell him. Him, Oriana, and her family. They were all going to be pissed.

  And she’d never see Nathan again.

  Shoulders slumping, she picked up the blow dryer and started getting her arguments ready for the conversation she dreaded.

  * * *

  Emerging from the master bedroom fifteen minutes later, she found Nathan waiting in the hallway, looking impossibly handsome in black slacks and a black silk shirt, open at the neck. Rachel, on the other hand, was still dressed in the same clothes she’d worn in the simulation because she hadn’t brought anything else.

  The vampire gave her a devastating smile and held a big hand out to her.

  She didn’t take it. “I… I need more time. I don’t think I’m ready.”

  For a long moment he said nothing, his gaze steady on her face. It was all she could do not to shift under that challenging stare. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’re not exactly the first Latent who’s gotten cold feet over the third time. Almost all of them do. Considering they can end up dead, that’s understandable.”

  “It’s not dying I’m worried about. It’s hurting you.”

  His expression softened, and his lips twitched up in a smile. “I realize that. But I’ve tried putting off the third time before, and I’ve found the longer Latents think about it, the worse their anxiety gets. Some of them even backed out completely without even trying.”

  She blinked at him. “That was what you were trying to get me to do.”

  “Yes, and I was wrong.” This time when he reached for her hand, he didn’t give her the option of refusing. His grip felt very warm and strong. “The Magekind need you, Rachel. I need you. And if you refuse the Gift, I’ll never see you again.”

  Her fingers tightened convulsively on his. “I’m in love with you.” The minute the words were out of her mouth, a wave of heat rolled up her face, and she knew she was blushing furiously. She tried to pull back, but he wouldn’t release her. “I didn’t mean that.”

  “Yes, you did.” He let go only long enough to step in close, his arms sliding around her. “Like I mean this -- I love you.”

  She stared up at him in stunned disbelief. For a moment, a crazy joy started to bloom in her like an Amazonian orchid, exotic and delicately beautiful.

  Followed a heartbeat later by anger. “Don’t say that!” She planted a palm against his chest and pushed. He resisted her, only turning loose when she glared at him. “Don’t lie to me so I’ll accept the Gift. I know how this works.” She sounded bitter even to herself. “I fall for it, then after I’ve changed, you just walk away, leaving me wrecked.”

  “Do you really think I’m that dishonorable?” There was more than offended pride in his eyes. He looked almost… hurt.

  “Oriana says that kind of thing happens. Dominic Bonnhome…”

  “Is an ass,” Nathan told her hotly. “He thinks anything he does to get more Majae in the field is justified. I have never operated that way. I never led a Latent to believe I felt something I didn’t.” He caught her shoulders, his expression softening, the sincerity in his eyes seductive “If I tell you I love you, I love you. That’s too important to lie about.”

  “There hasn’t been time for either of us to fall in love. Infatuation, yes. Lust, yes. Love, no.”

  “Rachel, I’m four hundred years old. I know my own mind. I’ve made love to a lot of Latents -- beautiful women, intelligent women, accomplished women. But I never felt about any of them the way I feel about you. Yes, I fell for you hard and fast. But I have fallen, and I’m too much a realist to deny it.” He reached out and cupped her face in his sword-callused hands, looking deeply into her eyes.

  She stared up at him, feeling the magnetic pull of him -- not only his remarkable looks, but his intelligence, his strength, his indomitable sense of honor. Deep within her, the orchid burst into full bloom, delicate petals unfurling in his heat.

  Joy. Anxiety. Hope. And…

  “You know yourself too,” he said softly. “Do you love me?”

  She stared up into his handsome face as her heart beat hard in her ears. “If I didn’t, the idea of losing control and hurting you wouldn’t terrify me this much. You’re right -- the odds are I’ll survive the Gift. If it were only me, I’d go for it. But it’s not only my life on the line. Even if I never see you again, I want to know you’re alive. I have
to know you’re alive, or none of it means anything.”

  “God, Rachel, what you do to me.” Nathan took her mouth in a famished pounce. His tongue thrust deep, swirled around hers, in a deeply erotic claiming. He kissed her until her nipples hardened, her knees went weak, and she clung to him as much to stay upright as anything else.

  Finally he drew back and looked down at her, his gaze fierce. “Do you trust me?”

  She swallowed, and tightened her grip on his biceps. “Yes.”

  “I would not do anything to put your life in danger,” Nathan said, voice low and intense. “If I thought you wouldn’t survive the Gift, I would tell you to go home and forget me. To find some young cop and settle down, because I can’t stand the thought of losing you either.” He stroked the hair back from her face. “You won’t fail.”

  Somehow the certainty in his eyes made her anxiety lose its grip. She took a deep breath. “All right. But I think we should call Oriana for backup. Just in case.”

  “I am not making love to you with your great-whatever-grandma in the next room. Besides, she already gave me a gemstone to crush if I needed her. She could gate here before you’d have time to blink.” Nathan slid his hand down the length of her arm to wrap his fingers around hers, then drew her after him. “But we’re not going to need her. Come on.” Instead of guiding her back into the bedroom, he led her down the stairs.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I want to show you something.”

  Rachel blinked as she saw what was waiting for them on the kitchen table -- a bottle of champagne, two crystal champagne flutes, and two silver trays covered with fruit and canapés. “What’s this?”

  “Hey, don’t look at me -- it wasn’t my idea. Though it does look pretty good.” He walked to the table, picked up the card propped against the bottle, and handed it to her.

  Rachel flipped it over to recognize Oriana’s flowing calligraphy. I thought you needed a little something to keep your strength up -- Gee. “Apparently Oriana’s afraid I’m going to starve.”