He wandered from the bedroom into the living room. He went to the bar and poured himself a scotch. Taking a sip, he walked to his large bookcase and fingered the hundreds of titles on the shelves. Maybe there was something in these tomes that he’d missed. Something about a woman and how she’d release him from his curse. But he’d read the books cover to cover several times. He could recite some of the verses and tell a person what page it was on. Not in one did he remember any mention of a woman born with the goat’s eye.
Frustrated, he swung away from the bookcase and paced the room. He’d gone over a hundred years with no hope, but now, with Kiara’s arrival, it felt like hope was within reach. He just had to find the right way to grip it. It could fall through his fingers too quickly and he’d be left with nothing, as before.
After walking the room, he paused at one wall and decided to peek in on his nemeses, the ones that forced him to conjure the curse that imprisoned them all. Waving his hand along the wall, he soon had a perfect view of the gargoyle Octavius’s garden. He expected to see the huge creature frozen in spot like a stone statue but that wasn’t what he saw. Instead there was a blonde-haired woman with the gargoyle. And there was nothing stiff about him, except for maybe his cock. Curious, Malvo leaned toward the scene, and he spied something that made his hands shake. The woman also had the mark. She possessed the goat’s eye like Kiara did.
Frantic now that he’d found something of use, Malvo waved his hand over the wall and changed the scene. Now, he was looking into the room where Bacclum’s prison had always been. But the Grigori was not locked inside his book, but locked in an embrace with a woman. A beautiful dark-skinned woman who also shared the mark.
This was no coincidence. There was a link between these three women, and the three prisoners. It appeared that the other women had somehow released the others from their respective prisons. Kiara had to somehow release him.
Excitement raced through his body, and he ran into the bedroom. He grasped Kiara’s shoulder and shook her awake.
Groggily, she blinked up at him. “What’s going on?”
“Who are those other women?”
She rubbed at her eyes. “Who? What women?”
He grabbed her arm and pulled her from the bed, dragging her into the living room. He marched her up to his viewing wall and pointed to the scene.
“Who is that?”
Squinting, Kiara peered into the wall. “I don’t know.”
“She is marked like you are. You must know her.” Panic was starting to make him feel itchy.
“I don’t.”
He waved his hand again, and that scene vanished to be replaced with another, the one in the garden with the gargoyle and the Nordic goddess. “And her? You must know her?”
She shook her head, and then she leaned close to the wall, her eyes narrowing. “But maybe…”
“Maybe what?”
She turned to look at him. “My ma told me that Jean-Paul, my father, had other women. When I was born, she told me, he was distraught that I’d been bore with the mark, just like the others, he had said.”
“Then they are your sisters.”
She spun around to look at the wall again. “My sisters? Maybe they are. But I donna know them.”
“Then why are they here? In this house, just as you are?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know, Malvo. I really don’t.”
“Gah. You are completely useless.” He spun away from her and stalked the room. She was watching him, but he didn’t want to look into her face. He knew what he’d see there. Hurt and confusion at his comment. But he couldn’t help it. He’d gone too long cooped up in this place, held captive by his own hand. And to know there was a chance to be freed but he had no clue on how to unlock it, and neither did the key. Because he knew without a doubt, that Kiara was that key.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” she said, her voice quivering with emotion as she walked across the room and through the doorway to the bedroom.
He didn’t follow her, although some small part of him wanted to. To soothe her pain, to apologize for his unkind offhanded remark. But he remained where he was, cold, stoic and unfeeling. Or at least on the surface that’s what it always looked like.
Chapter Eleven
Kiara didn’t know how long she lay in the big bed thinking about what she’d seen through the viewing wall. But before she knew it she was startling awake from a deep sleep. By the way her stomach rumbled a few hours at least had passed.
She glanced over her shoulder to see that the bed was empty beside her. Malvo was still in the other room, angry most likely. She sat up and rubbed at her eyes. She didn’t know what he wanted from her, what he expected her to do for him. It was obvious that he somehow thought she could help him leave this realm. If she could, she wasn’t informed about it.
He must’ve thought that if her sisters helped those other men, that she should be able to help him. Her sisters. She couldn’t believe it. It was amazing to her that there were other women out there like her. She wasn’t sure how she really felt about it right now. There was definitely some kind of emotion present, but she couldn’t define it, not yet anyway.
She needed more time.
Standing then stretching, Kiara padded across the bedroom and into the living room. She expected to see Malvo stalking the room, or sitting in a chair, pensive and drinking a scotch or something like that. He seemed the type. But what she saw nearly knocked her on her ass with surprise.
The living room was no longer a normal room. Instead of the elegant furniture, expensive rug, mahogany tables and mantle over the fireplace, there were several small round wooden tables scattered around the room, chairs occupied with various types of people. In the corner was a raised stage. On it was a band playing some electrifying sounds, and at the microphone was a beautiful black woman in a long red gown with a voice so smoky and hot that Kiara could feel the little hairs on her arms sizzle.
The sounds, the smells, the taste in the air enveloped Kiara and she nearly swooned from the excitement of it all.
She’d complained earlier she couldn’t go out and see New Orleans, so Malvo had brought New Orleans to her.
He was there in the midst of the room, dressed in pressed black pants and a maroon silk shirt. When he saw her, he grinned that saucy grin of his and moved toward her, a single red rose clamped between his fingers.
“I canna believe this,” she said when he’d neared her.
“Believe it, chère. It’s as real as you want it to be.”
She looked around in amazement. It was exactly as she’d pictured it would be. She glanced down at herself, picking at the white T-shirt she was still wearing. “I’m not dressed properly.”
Still grinning, Malvo waved his hand over her. Like a mirage, her shirt wavered then vanished. In its place was a short black strapless dress that hugged her figure firmly. She gasped in delight and smiled at him. He was an enigma. One minute he was angry and thinking her useless and the next he was doing one of the kindest, most romantic things any man had ever done for her.
“Wow. This is spectacular.”
He snapped the rose bud off the stem, and leaning toward her, nestled it into her hair by her ear. “It’s you that’s spectacular.” He took her hand and kissed the back.
Heat traveled up her body and warmed her insides. She was extremely charmed by him. “But I thought I was useless,” she said, his last remarks still lingering in her mind.
He shook his head. “Never useless. I was angry and frustrated, but should never have taken it out on you. I hope you will accept my apology.”
The sweet sexy sounds of the saxophone hit her ear and the smell of shrimp and spices hit her nose. She forgave him all right. How could she not when he brought everything she wanted to see and hear and taste in New Orleans right to her with a wave of his hand.
“Are you hungry?”
She nodded, her stomach rumbling in agreement.
Tucking her hand onto his arm, he led her to a table in the dark corner away from the people he conjured mingling about. He pulled out her chair, she sat, and he tucked it in for her. He then sat opposite of her.
There were two wine glasses on the table and Malvo tapped them both with the tip of his index finger. They both filled with red wine. “This wine is over a hundred years old.”
“Thank you.” She picked up her glass and took a sip. The wine was tart and spicy. It was a good taste.
“I thought you would appreciate some authentic Cajun cooking so I ordered us some crawfish, red beans and rice. I know it sounds simple, but trust me there is no better than food from the south.”
“It sounds delicious.”
And with that, the meal materialized from vapor in front of her to sit appetizingly on a large plate. The scent reached her nose and saliva pooled in her mouth. It smelled heavenly.
He picked up her fork, shoveled it into the bean and rice concoction and brought it to her mouth. She opened and he fed it to her. The second it hit her tongue an explosion of delectable spicy flavors filled her. She nearly rolled her eyes back in her head from the ecstasy saturating her mouth.
“Oh dear Lord, that’s good.”
“It only gets better.”
And it did. After eating the entire meal and drinking three glasses of wine, Kiara felt better than she had in her entire life. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been as filled with joy as she was right now sitting in a smoky jazz club with a beautiful sexy man. Yeah, the club was fake and yeah the man was a demon but hell, she was enjoying it.
After all the food was eaten and the wine drunk, Malvo stood and pulled her to her feet. A slow, sexy song filled the room and he pressed her close and started to glide her around the room.
Malvo could dance, that was for sure. He could move his body so well that she had to bite down on her lip when his h*ps swayed close to hers. He nestled his face into her hair, and ran a hand up and down her back with slow lazy strokes.
He was seducing her and it was working quite well.