Blood Oath (Blood Lines, Book One)

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An Excerpt From: Blood Oath

© Copyright Kit Tunstall, 2003.

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave, Inc.

Chapter 1

       Anca looked up as the bell on the door tinkled. Her eyes slid to the clock near the cash register, and she bit back a groan. Four minutes until closing. She plastered on a smile as her potential customer came into view.

The fake smile faded as she got a glimpse of him. She forgot how to breathe as the finest specimen of manhood she had ever seen strode to the front counter. He was well over six feet tall, with rippling muscles, a lean build, and silvery-blond hair that was a sharp contrast to his tanned skin and dark eyes. The perfect cut of his suit emphasized his magnificent physique, while contributing to his aura of power.

Or perhaps the suit had nothing to do with it. She swallowed heavily as he stopped in front of her. His chiseled lips didn´t curve into a smile. Her mouth parted, and she couldn´t seem to tear her gaze from him. Her nipples tightened against the lace of her bra, and she blushed, wondering if evidence of her arousal showed through the silk Nehru-style jacket she wore.

She glanced down and was relieved to see a barely discernable protrusion of her nipples against the pink fabric, silk-screened with roses. Her gaze returned to his when he cleared his throat. "Good evening," she said, pleased she didn´t stumble over the words in her flustered state.

"Are you Anca Draganescu?" His voice was crisp and businesslike, but the accent underlying his words lent them a husky sensuality.

With that voice, he could make a discussion on weather turn her on. She almost giggled at the thought and strove to compose her features into a professional mask. "Yes. I´m the proprietor of Dragan´s Whimsy."

He nodded. "You are a psychic, no?"

She shrugged. "I can´t always control the gift-"

He interrupted before she could give her standard speech about no guarantees. "You will read me."

Her eyes widened at his imperious command. "The store will be closing soon, sir. I´d be happy to schedule an appointment for you tomorrow. I had a cancellation just this afternoon."

He shook his head. "Impossible, Miss Draganescu. Now, please."

She took a deep breath, struggling to maintain control of her temper. Even though he looked as though he´d stepped from a GQ ad, that didn´t give him the right to be rude. "That is impossible. Tomorrow."

"I will be on my way home by tomorrow. My flight leaves at midnight." He glanced at his watch as he pushed back the cuff of his suit and light-blue shirt. "I took the liberty of flipping your closed sign and locking the door."

Anca´s mouth fell open. "That´s unacceptable. How dare you?"

"I will pay any amount." His eyes softened. "You must do this."

She frowned, disconcerted when the anger forming banked at his gentler expression and lowered tone. "Why is it so important?"

He shrugged. "I must appease my curiosity."

She sighed. "Fine, but I´ll expect double the standard fee." Anca turned the key to lock the register and slipped the ring in the pocket of her silk slacks. "Please make yourself comfortable while I brew tea."

He walked to the beige suede sofa and chairs in the corner of the store without responding. Anca watched him take a seat before she left her post behind the counter and went to the tea cozy in the opposite corner. The water in the pot was still hot, and she selected her special blend of jasmine, chamomile, and lemon verbena tea, used to enhance consciousness.

She added two scoops of the leaves to a small ceramic pot. Anca measured water from the metal pot on the warmer and added it to the teapot decorated with roses and ribbons. While it steeped, she added matching teacups and saucers to a silver tray. When they were arranged aesthetically, she put the small steeping pot on the tray and carried it over to her customer.

He had chosen the sofa, and he was leaning back against the cushions. There was an aura of grace about his movements as he shifted to sit up straight. "What´s the tea for?" He eyed the pot as though it contained something less innocuous than tea.

Anca smiled at him as she lifted a cup and saucer to pour the brew. "It aids in relaxation. The more open you are, the more I´ll be able to pick up."

He lifted a brow as he took the cup she had filled.

She watched with amusement as he sniffed the contents before sipping it. He frowned, but didn´t thrust it away. She poured a cup for herself and took the chair closest to him. "May I ask why you want a reading, sir? What do you hope to learn today?"

Anca sipped her tea, waiting to hear the standard questions: When will I be promoted? Will I get married? Should we have children? Are my wife and I drifting apart? Her eyes sought out his left hand and saw the ring finger lacked a gold band, but that didn´t mean anything.

       His gaze was forthright when he met hers. "I want to see if you´re who I think you are."

She swallowed without thought, not expecting such an answer, and unable to form a coherent reply. The hot tea burned her tongue, and she gasped. Who did he think she was?

"Are you all right, Miss Draganescu?"

Anca waved her hand before setting the cup on the tray. "I´m fine. Shall we begin, Mr....?" The sooner they finished, the sooner she could get him out of her shop. Once upstairs in her apartment, her unease would fade away, she assured herself.

"Demi Golina." He didn´t offer his hand to shake.

"May I see your hand, Mr. Golina?"

His eyes narrowed. "Are you a palm reader, Miss Draganescu?" His tone bordered on scathing.

She shook her head. "No. I simply find touch the easiest way to read someone."

He extended his hand.

Anca folded it between hers, careful not to rake his flesh with her long nails. She cried out as soon as they touched. Visions raced through her mind in a dizzying array of colors and sound, with little form. She had never experienced anything like it before.

She tried to jerk away, but only succeeded in freeing one hand. He tightened his grip on the other. She cried out again, begging him with a jumble of incoherent sounds to release her.

"Tell me what you see, Anca," he purred. He looked intense, but there wasn´t a trace of cruelty on his face. He didn´t seem to receive any pleasure from prolonging the contact or causing her fear.

"A-a ch-chalice," she stuttered. "Gold, antique, with a ruby in its handle..." She shook her head as the cup left her mind, replaced by a vision that had color sweeping up her neck.

Mr. Golina had her bent backwards over a table, and she moaned as he sucked on her nipple. From the waist up, they were both nude. Pressed together, they struggled to get even closer. Anca heard a moan escape her lips, and it held the same passion as in her vision.

"What is it?"

She shook her head, unable to describe the scene. When she met his eyes, she saw a half-smile curved his lips, and his eyes had darkened. Was he experiencing the same vision? She had never shared one with another person before. She had only relayed what she saw in the past.

She broke eye contact and closed her eyes. Anca shook her head, struggling to dispel the vision. She counted slowly to ten, which was usually enough to break her concentration if a vision became too vivid. This time, it only increased in clarity. As he continued to suckle at her breast, his hand slid down her stomach, into the waistband of her pants, and over her panties.

Anca jerked in the chair as he stroked her pussy in the vision. She grew wet in real life, and she was already dripping with need in the vision. Her pussy spasmed with yearning as his fingers explored her.

       The experience was disconcerting enough to cause her eyes to fly open. Anca tore her hand from his. "No more, please. I don´t see anything at all..."