Hot for the Holidays Read online

  all the Latents who could survive the transition without going mad.” He paused, his expression going grim. “Obviously, we didn’t invite the Latents who’d be driven insane by the process.”

  “Nobody wants to deal with a case of Mageverse Fever,” Ridge murmured in Kat’s ear. “We’re usually forced to kill the poor bastards—hopefully before they start piling up victims.”

  “But just because you can safely become one of us, that doesn’t mean you should.” The smile dropped away from Arthur’s face. Suddenly there was something very old and very tired in his eyes. “Despite what you may think, we’re not really immortal. We may not age, but we can be killed. And recently, a great many very brave Magekind died in some very ugly ways.”

  He began to pace around the silent circle of the crowd, pausing here and there to stare into someone’s eyes. No one spoke, or shifted, or coughed. It almost seemed no one dared breathe.

  “Your respective escorts have the task of deciding if you should become one of us. It’s their responsibility to determine if you have the intelligence and courage to join us in our fight. It’s not a decision to be made lightly. Any mistakes you make may cost not only your lives, but the lives of the rest of us as well. And worse, you could kill the innocents who depend on us for protection.”

  Arthur paused again, this time directly in front of Kat. She caught her breath as her heart began to pound in furious lunges. Those dark eyes bored into hers. She had the feeling he saw the deep hidden core of rage, the craving for revenge that roiled inside her.

  And the fear, carefully hidden and barely acknowledged.

  At last he turned away. “Fifteen hundred years ago,” Arthur continued in a quiet tone that still carried to every corner of the room, “Merlin tested me and the members of my court to determine if we were up to the task of protecting mankind from its own suicidal impulses. Those of us who passed his tests drank from his magical grail and became immortal. Now it’s our turn to determine if you are up to the task. We need you, but only if you are willing to pay the price.”

  The former king lifted his voice until it rang around the room. “If you are not willing to risk death, to fight and die with us, please leave now. We will honor you for your honesty and sacrifice, for it’s no easy thing to refuse the promise of power. But if you stay, know the risks. Rest assured, your Magekind sponsor does. He or she will not make the decision lightly.”

  Arthur paused, sweeping his gaze over the crowd. His mouth twitched in a slight smile. “Now that I’ve killed the mood, have a nice evening.”

  On cue, the music rose again. People drew together, heads tilting as conversation began to buzz.

  “You still want that punch?” Ridge asked.

  “Is it alcoholic?”

  He grinned. “I think so.”

  “God, yes.”

  Laughing softly, he started toward the punch bowl. Kat licked her dry lips, and frowned at the sudden sensation that someone was staring at her.

  She turned to meet the stare of a tall, brawny blond man with such sharply chiseled features, he could have posed for an Armani ad. His eyes were pale and gray as winter ice, and just as cold. “I couldn’t help but notice your necklace.” In contrast to his gaze, his smile was as charming and warm as a sunny day. “It’s lovely. Where did you get it?”

  Kat’s fingers closed over the engraved heart. “It was my sister’s.”

  His smile widened. “Really?”

  She went still, going on the alert. “She died.”

  “Did she?” Sympathy, rich as cream, filled his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Trey?” An older dark-haired man appeared at his elbow. “I’ve got someone I’d like you to meet, son.”

  “Sorry to bring up painful memories,” the blond said, and turned away with his father.

  Kat frowned after him, tense. It wasn’t the first time she’d met a man who made her instincts howl. But here, among people who were, by definition, the good guys? She snorted in disgust at herself.

  She was getting as paranoid as her mother.

  THREE

  Adelicate crystal cup appeared before Kat’s eyes, held in a strong brown hand. “You making friends with the werewolves too?”

  “Werewolves?” Startled, she looked up at Ridge. “I thought you were all either vampires or witches.”

  “Majae,” he corrected, and took a sip of his own cup. The contents were a delicate pink. Apparently he wasn’t restricted to blood. “They don’t like the ‘w’ word, remember?”

  “Majae. And vamps are called Magi.” Kat sipped, and smiled at the spicy-sweet bite of alcohol blended with fruit. “Grace gave me the lecture. She didn’t say anything about werewolves, though.”

  “We didn’t know about them until recently.” He rested a warm hand on the small of her back, and she walked along with him. “Seems Merlin didn’t entirely trust us, so he created a race of Direwolves to make sure we didn’t step over the line. They’re immune to magic, so in a fight they’d probably kick our collective asses.”

  “So why’d Arthur invite them?”

  Ridge shrugged. “Why not? They’re our allies now, and it’s Christmas. Arthur invited all kinds of people to the party.” He nodded at a small glowing figure that darted past through the air, looking rather like a giant firefly. “Fairies, dragons, a shape-shifting unicorn or two.”

  “Y’all have interesting friends.” Absently, Kat put her drained cup on a passing tray. As the tray retreated, she did a double take. No waiter carried it. It just glided along through the air, apparently surfing on a wave of sparks. “I am definitely not in Kansas anymore.”

  “Want to dance, Dorothy?” Ridge gave her a rakish smile and held out a hand.

  “Why not?” She rested her palm on his and let the vampire lead her into the ballroom.

  he Latent waltzed very well, following his lead with an athletic ease and grace. Her train had some kind of wristband she’d hooked one hand through, and she held her arm out to the side so the skirt swirled around them like water. The slit flashed glimpses of long leg that heated his libido to a smoky simmer.

  He found his gaze lingering on her sultry mouth under its coat of bronze gloss. Her scent was intoxicating—female flesh, some exotic floral perfume, Latent potential singing a siren song in her blood. The combination made his fangs ache.

  It was far too easy to imagine how she’d taste.

  He’d never Turned a Latent—doing that kind of thing without permission could get you an order of execution. Mageverse Fever was nothing to screw around with.

  But he’d heard there was no experience quite like having a woman Change as you spilled yourself into her. Merlin’s Gift igniting in her cells, activated by contact with a vampire’s magic. . . .

  Yeah. They said it was something.

  Assuming you could ignore the cost she could end up paying for all that power.

  Janice, screaming as she burned in the demon’s fire . . .

  Ridge smelled her blazing hair as her shrieks of agony deafened him. The magical flames seared him as he tried to beat them out with his bare hands. . . .

  Too late. Too goddamn late.

  His feet faltered, and he lost the rhythm of the dance.

  “Hey, you okay?”

  Janice was gone. The eyes that looked up at him were Kat’s, blue and smoky and concerned.

  “Fine,” Ridge said curtly. “I need some air.” He released her and strode toward the French doors that led out into the moonlit garden.

  It was warmer out there than it had any business being this time of year. Apparently one of the Majae had cast a spell to ensure it was just cool enough to be pleasant on a dancer’s heated skin. Ridge drew in a calming breath and walked across the stone-paved patio.

  Kat trailed him, frowning in concern. “You sure you’re all right?”

  He turned to look down into her lovely moonlit face. “Why do you want to do this? Become a Maja?”

  She gave him a smile that looked
a little too tight as she caught up her locket in long fingers and began to rasp it along its gold chain. “Well, immortality sounds pretty cool.”

  Impatiently, he waved off the statement. “Somehow I doubt you’re stupid enough to really believe that.”

  Her blond brows flew upward, and she drew back, visibly offended. “I’m not stupid at all.”

  “Good. Because Arthur wasn’t kidding when he said you need to be damned sure you want to do this. It can get you killed in some really ugly ways.”

  Her gaze went chilly. “Not being immortal is no guarantee you’ll die in bed, Ridge. And I like the idea of being able to defend myself.”

  There was a bitter note to that Southern Comfort drawl. “Is there a particular reason you need to be able to defend yourself?”

  She turned away and moved to the stone balustrade. “The world is full of predators.”

  “True.” He followed her to study her expressionless profile. “And we tend to encounter a lot of them in this job. Mostly because we go out and look for them. If you stay human, you’d have a reasonable chance of avoiding all those killers.”

  “Only if you’re lucky. Not everybody’s lucky.” Her fingers found her necklace again.

  “Who do you know that was that unlucky?” Realization dawned. “The girl in the picture on your mantel? The one who owned that necklace?” He reached for the locket.

  Kat lifted one delicate shoulder in a half shrug, pulling away before he could touch her. Her fingers tightened protectively around the locket.

  Ridge brushed his fingertips along the line of her jaw. Her skin felt warm, silken. She automatically looked up at him. The pain in her eyes deflated his own useless anger at past failures. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I just don’t want to see you hurt.”

  Her mouth twisted into a bitter line. “It’s a little late for that.” But as she studied his expression in the moonlight, the tension in her face slowly melted into sympathy. “You’re grieving too.”

  He looked off over the gently rolling lawn. Its clusters of moonlit trees glowed with the soft magic of the Mageverse. “A friend of mine died in the Dragon War. She . . . burned. One of the demons threw a fireball and hit her. She was standing six feet away, but there was nothing I could do. I didn’t have the magic to put it out. And neither did she.” Ghostly shrieks rose in his ears again.

  “A lover?” There was no pity in those lovely eyes, only understanding. Yes, Kat had her own memories that sliced the mind like broken glass.

  “We hadn’t been together like that in decades. But she was the one who made me a vampire. You never forget the one who Changes you, whether there’s real love there or not. Watching her die . . .”

  “Hurt.” Kat said it as if she knew how utterly inadequate the word was to express such howling agony.

  “Yes.”

  She rose on her tiptoes, caught the back of his neck, and drew his head down until she could reach his mouth. It was a surprisingly tender kiss, less an act of passion than an offer of comfort.

  Her lips felt exquisitely soft as they brushed over his, a delicate seduction. She started to draw back.

  Ridge caught her nape, felt the cool silk of her short hair against his fingers, impossibly soft. Opening his lips, he deepened the kiss, drinking in her taste, savoring the sweet comfort she offered.

  Kat responded with a tiny moan, a whimper of breath against his mouth. She leaned into him, the silk of her gown warm from her body, her breasts lush and full against his chest. Her long legs moved restlessly, brushing his thighs.

  Her scent filled his head, some delicate perfume tinged with jasmine. And beneath that, the heady musk of female arousal. He hardened in a hot, sweet rush, his balls going tight.

  Vampire hearing picked up the rush of her pulse, the sea tide of her blood. His fangs slid from their housing in his jaw. He bent his head, nuzzling, and she tilted her chin, giving him access to the big, pulsing vein. . . .

  What the hell am I doing? The thought blew through the smoky heat of his arousal, chill as a sudden draft. Ridge blinked.

  Oh, hell, he was losing it. If he didn’t stop this, he’d be balls-deep in her and coming before he knew what hit him.

  And that was a really bad idea. Tempting, yes—Merlin’s Cup, he was tempted—but there was no way he could maintain his objectivity if he banged the girl.

  No, not banged, a voice whispered from the back of his brain. Nothing with this woman would be as simple as a bang. Kat Danilo wasn’t the kind of woman a man used for meaningless physical release. She might draw you in with that pretty body, but she’d snare you tight with her intelligence, with her questing mind and dry wit. Not to mention the subtler temptations of shared grief.

  That might be the most dangerous snare of all.

  There was far too much Grace had kept from him when she’d asked him to sponsor Lance’s daughter.

  Stepping away from Kat took a surprising amount of effort. She looked up at him, those beautiful eyes a little dazed, a bit disappointed. His fangs twinged in frustration.

  “I think we’d better go back inside,” Ridge managed hoarsely, “and dance.”

  hey drove through the moonlit night, the Porsche’s headlights spearing the darkness. In the green glow from the dash, Ridge shot Kat a look of concern. She’d danced and joked throughout the evening, teasing him subtly with a brush of fingertips here, a ripple of laughter there. She knew just how much he wanted her now, and she’d seemed determined to test his control.

  But as the evening wore on, Ridge had sensed a growing tension in her. Now as they drove into her housing development, the tension hit a vibrating peak that irritated him like the rasp of sandpaper over bare skin. Does she think I’m going to lunge for her throat?

  Yet, as they wheeled into the driveway, Kat’s attention seemed focused on the house rather than him. She was out of the car before he had time to turn off the engine.

  Ridge’s brows shot up as he watched her clip up the brick walkway as fast as her tight skirt would allow, fumbling her keys out of her overcoat pocket as she went. He opened the car door and strode after her.

  “Mom?” she called as she wrestled the door open.

  “Baby?” Her mother’s voice floated from somewhere upstairs.

  Kat’s shoulders slumped in relief. “I’m home!”

  She turned and gave Ridge a smile as he walked up behind her. “I had a lovely evening.”

  “That’s good.” Ridge studied her with narrow eyes. “What were you so afraid of?” He could smell the fading scent of her fear, hear her heartbeat slowing its desperate thump. “I was starting to wonder if you thought I was going to jump you.”

  Kat looked honestly startled. “Oh, no. Nothing like that.” Her laughter sounded a bit forced. “I just . . . worry about my mom. I guess I’m a little paranoid.”

  “You want me to check the house?”

  “No. No, that’s fine. We’re fine.”

  Ridge tucked his hands in his overcoat pockets and studied her thoughtfully. “All right. If you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure.” That smile was definitely forced.

  “Look, we need to meet tomorrow night. I’d like a better idea of how you’d handle yourself in a fight.”

  Her blond brows lifted. “Ridge, I’m a fitness instructor.”

  “I’m aware of that.” The dossier had mentioned that much at least. “But being fit doesn’t mean you know what to do when someone’s trying to hurt you.”

  He got the distinct impression she was grinding her teeth, but she restricted herself to a nod. “You’re the boss.”

  “Yes. I am. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  FOUR

  Ridge’s house was a three-story Mediterranean villa in golden stucco, its windows arched, its low roof red ceramic tile. Impressive though it was, it looked modest next to towering Mageverse neighbors that included a Germanic castle and a sprawling Gilded Age mansion.

  “Who builds these houses?” Kat asked, eye
ing the crenellated walls towering over the trees next door.

  Ridge shrugged. “Majae, usually. It takes a lot of magic to build a house like this. Generally you barter services, though a Maja may give you a house as a gesture of gratitude.”

  She grinned, swinging the athletic bag she carried in one hand. “And what did you do to win a witch’s gratitude?”

  “Saved her from a Death Cult assassin.” His smile was sly and very male. “She was very, very grateful.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  He led her inside, past plaster walls, wrought iron fixtures, and timber-trussed ceilings. Their feet padded over gleaming tile floors in warm shades of rose, gold, and cream. The combined effect was both intensely masculine and very beautiful.

  Yep, that had been one grateful witch, all right.

  At last Kat followed Ridge into a cavern of a room with a towering ceiling supported by heavy dark timbers. Padded mats covered the floor, sinking underfoot with every step.

  “We’ll work out here,” Ridge told her, and gestured at an arched hallway. “You’ll find a bathroom down that corridor where you can change.” he bath in question was nothing short of sybaritic, Kat

  discovered, all smooth cream marble with pale gold accents. You could practically swim laps in the tub, while the shower was an elegant freestanding affair with multiple showerheads protruding from the rounded glass walls.

  It was all enough to give a girl ideas, especially after last night’s toe-curling kiss.

  The memory of Ridge’s mouth had left her shifting restlessly in the sheets all night. He’d felt so tall and deliciously strong against her, yet he’d touched her with exquisite care, as if she was something fragile and valuable. The simple brush of those lips had been enough to leave her aching.

  When her tongue touched the tip of one fang, Kat had felt a strange erotic jolt, a delicious blend of fear and desire. Ridge was so utterly unlike any other lover she’d ever had. Next to his elegant restraint, every other man seemed a fumbling boy in retrospect, overeager and graceless.

  Kat might have thought Ridge a little too cool, in fact, had she not sensed the patient predator beneath his gentleman’s mask.

  Vampire.

  Grace had told her the genetic spell that was the Gift could only be triggered by making love to one of the Magekind. Which meant Kat would have to brave that dark and alien masculinity. Feel those fangs break her skin, that thick cock pump into her sex.

  Dry-mouthed, Kat began to undress. Her nipples stood stiff and aching as she took off her bra. She shivered in anticipation and bent to dig hastily in her workout bag for her clothes.

  hile Kat changed, Ridge retreated to his own room two floors above to don a pair of loose cotton pants. Barefoot, he padded back downstairs a few minutes later.

  To stop in his tracks and stare.

  Kat was bent double in the center of the room, one hand wrapped around her left ankle as she stretched, chest flat against her thigh. Her legs were amazingly long and deliciously bare, displayed by a pair of thin cotton shorts. When she straightened, he saw she wore a cropped tank that revealed a tight, lean belly. Her breasts rode her chest in round little handfuls that made him want to peel that thin tank off for a better look.

  As he watched with hungry interest, she bounced on her bare toes, eyeing him. “What now?”

  Somehow he resisted the impulse to suck in his stomach. He knew his body was hard and strong from years of swinging a sword in practice bouts against his fellow Magekind.

  But immortal, ageless vampire or not, he was still a guy.

  Ignoring his ego, Ridge stepped closer and gave her a come-ahead gesture with his fingers. “Show me what you can do. Hit me.”

  He’d trained his share of Majae over the years, and he knew what to expect. An awkward swat he’d barely feel, delivered with a complete lack of speed or skill. And no strength whatsoever.

  Smoky blue eyes narrowed as she stepped up to him. That was all the warning he got.

  Kat came up off the floor, her fist blurring at his chin with the full weight of her body behind it, clean and hard as a heavyweight’s jab. If he’d been human, she’d have bloodied his nose. As it was, he barely ducked in time to avoid the punch. The breeze of her fist fanned his hair.

  Her eyes narrowed, delicate lip curling up in a feral snarl, as anger crackled like a lightning strike in those cool blue eyes. Kat didn’t like missing.

  She came after him then, throwing first a left, then a right, snapping both punches wi