Dark Nights - By Christine Feehan Page 0,49

for those amazing weapons just inches from her fingertips and her gaze strayed to the ornate swords.

Traian tipped her chin up, forcing her gaze to his. Silly profession, placing your precious body between someone else and danger.

She laughed softly in her mind, amazed at how, in the middle of danger, he could mesmerize her.

Traian felt the vibration pulse through his body, touch him in places he had long ago forgotten.

You spent several lifetimes chasing vampires. I’m catching very interesting memories in your mind, unless you spent all of your life watching Dracula movies. I think you’ve placed your precious and very sexy body between danger and people many times. And don’t say you’re a man and that it makes a difference. That would seriously annoy me.

Growls of hatred mixed with the insidious whispers. The smaller vampire, the one Traian had identified as Shafe, emerged from the black goo, hissing and spitting, dragging himself across the floor on his belly. His gaze firmly fixed on the largest crystal ball, his claws scored the stones as he tried to stop himself from answering the summons.

Even with Traian’s mesmerizing eyes and hypnotic voice, it was nearly impossible for Joie to ignore the drama being played out in the swirling mists of the cave. The insistent voices chanted a steady rhythm, drawing the vampire toward the glowing crystal. Greed and fear were on the face of the creature as it edged closer and closer. All the while, the dark shadow of the warrior, guardian of the wizard’s treasures, watched dispassionately.

Joie shivered. Fear was a living, breathing entity nearly choking her. At times, through the rising mist coming off the stone floor, she could make out a suit of armor on the warrior; at other times it was as insubstantial as the clouds.

Traian pulled Joie into his arms, drawing her tightly against his chest. His movements were deliberately slow, careful, wary of drawing the warrior’s attention to them. We are going to float upward, Joie, just drift toward the ceiling above us. Keep looking at me.

She was afraid. Battling human adversaries was one thing; facing down vampires and warriors made up of smoke and shadow was something altogether different. She slid her palm up Traian’s chest, the solid wall of flesh and blood reassuring her. Her arm curved around his neck. She locked her fingers there, fitting her body tightly against his. His much more masculine frame was hard like an oak tree. There was little give to the defined muscles beneath his skin. She felt her feet leave the ground and she closed her eyes, sending up a quick prayer.

Traian watched the warrior. Colored lights pulsed through the cavern, lit the mist so that wraith-like creatures appeared to be moving within it—ghosts of the mages, lost so long ago. He tightened his arms around Joie. She fit perfectly to him, her mind comfortable in his, drawing knowledge and studying tactics. He could feel her there inside him, sharing his memories and gathering information on his battles with vampires, fully prepared to join him should there be need.

More than anything else, he wanted her to know him as a man. He wanted time with her. He wanted to hear her laugh, to see warmth and acceptance in her eyes the way he had imagined during their long-distance chats. And he wanted her out of danger. Things could go wrong in an instant and he focused on one thing—getting Joie to safety.

They drifted higher in the cavern, and Traian clouded their image with more mist, more smoke, so that they seemed part of the haze. He took care that their movements were slow and lazy and as natural as possible, so that nothing would trigger the instincts of the warrior.

The shadow creature was motionless, even while the smoke that made up its body whirled and spun in dark threads. The fierce eyes remained fixed on the vampire crawling toward the temptation of the pulsing crystal orb. Shafe drew closer, closer, reaching out to the visions and promises of wealth and power swirling inside the globe.

Triumphantly the vampire placed his palms around the beckoning crystal. The moment he touched the globe, the shadow warrior threw back its head and roared. For a brief moment the smoke around it cleared. The guardian stood tall and straight, dressed in glittering, multihued scaled armor. And then it was smoke again, rushing across the wide expanse of floor, not quite touching the ground.

Valenteen, the older vampire, oozed from the black pool,

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