The Enemy's Kiss. Zandria Munson
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gaze trailed the length of her as she drew nearer; lean and fit with full breasts and a slender waist. Her stride was bold and confident, that of one who had nothing to fear. It was obvious that she had no knowledge of the territory she’d chosen to invade.
He eased from the shadows then. “Five hundred years ago your crimes would have been punishable by death,” he said.
Her attention snapped to him and a look of surprise crossed her eyes but she quickly regained her composure.
“I guess that makes me fortunate to be living in the present, doesn’t it?”
One of Nicholas’s dark brows peaked slightly at her sharp retort. “You would be wise to return the Rune of Moloch to me and save yourself the unnecessary grief.”
Silence lapsed between them as she watched him. It was short-lived. “I have no intention of returning anything to you,” she said. “In fact, I intend to walk out of here with the second one.”
His eyes narrowed on her. A confrontation he’d anticipated, a fight he’d hoped for, but he hadn’t expected this: a recalcitrant hoyden whose tongue was sharper than the blade he held.
“And I intend to stop you.”
“It seems we have a conflict of interest.” She quickly slid one of the brass fire pokers from its rack and took a defensive martial arts stance.
“So it seems.” With fluid grace he raised his own weapon just in time to block her attack. Metal met metal in a deafening clash that initiated a fierce waltz. Her speed and agility both surprised and impressed him. She moved with the apparent effortlessness of one well schooled in the art. He found himself wondering who she was. The world had softened and its warriors had abandoned the ancient arts of physical combat. She was a rarity indeed.
She attacked again, slicing upward. Nicholas jumped backward, but not before the sharp point of the fire poker slipped up along the front of his billowed shirt. The material fell apart, gaping to reveal his midsection.
“If you intend to stop me you’d better try harder than that,” she said with a smirk in her voice.
Nicholas gripped his shirt and tore it from his body. If she wanted a fight she was going to get one. He charged forward, but she evaded his attack with a graceful backward flip. It seemed the bandit was also an accomplished gymnast.
She returned the favor with an attack of her own, swinging her weapon in a manner that would’ve disabled a man of lesser skill. But he was prepared for her this time. He evaded her assault and gripped the top of her ninja-style mask, stripping it from her head.
A wealth of inky tendrils fell about her face and shoulders like a cloud of hell-fire smoke. Eyes of the same haunting hue locked with his as she eased back a step.
Nicholas stared, his gaze unabashed and lustful, for the creature before him was more than beautiful. She was exotic and striking, an apparition of complete and utter perfection. Desire ignited within him. He’d never met a woman whose skill rivaled her beauty.
“Who are you?” he asked quietly.
For a moment he thought he would gain no response, and then she spoke. “Does it matter?”
He was given no time to respond for she came at him again, brandishing her weapon in a way that would’ve made her teacher proud. Nicholas matched her speed, but was careful to only block her attack. Although he relished the throes of battle, he didn’t believe in harming those weaker than himself. And this little delinquent, although well trained, was no match for his five centuries of ruthless grooming.
He ducked an attack then swept a foot beneath her. His sudden move was unexpected and she lost her balance, coming to land flat on her back. Nicholas marched toward her and quickly kicked the fire poker aside. She moved to sit up, but he crouched above her and placed a firm hand against her chest.
He watched her in the dim lighting. She lay still, her breathing coming in quick gasps. His gaze trailed her body, moving along the ripe curves of her breasts, down her flat abdomen to the tight and very suggestive molding of her pants. He found himself wondering what sort of undergarments, if any at all, could be worn beneath the skintight attire. A low groan escaped him and he was abruptly reminded of how long it had been since he’d last had a woman; nearly two days now. He was ravenous.
Daniela fought to catch her breath as she gazed up at the tall figure towering above her. Two days after the heist of the Rune of Moloch, she’d received word from Mai that the same buyer wanted an artifact that was identical to the first. He had only the assumption that the rune was hidden within Drakon Castle, which meant she was left with the daunting task of trying to locate it. But he was paying double; a fair enough arrangement in her books. She’d immediately left for Romania, leaving her sister Elaina, who was now fifteen, under Mai’s supervision.
She’d been waiting outside the castle for hours. She’d deduced that only one person was at the residence, and when all the lights had dimmed, she’d made her move. She hadn’t expected to find one of the Drakon brothers waiting for her in the darkness—and with a sword.
She’d played it off well and kept her cool, but even now her heart, along with her mind, raced. She’d never been caught before, and at this point the possibility of an escape seemed nonexistent. Time and time again she’d promised herself to give up stealing, but it was the only way of life she knew. Now it was too late. It seemed her rope had just come to an abrupt end.
The man responsible stood above her for what seemed an eternity, his transfixing green eyes piercing into her. Finally, he spoke.
“Where is the Rune of Moloch?” It was an unmistakable command.
Daniela, however, was determined not to convey exactly what she was feeling. “Sold by now, I would imagine.” She was also making a valiant effort to keep her eyes from flitting along the broad expanse of his well-muscled torso.
“Sold to whom?” he asked, his gaze unrelenting.
Daniela stared back. Did he honestly think she would just tell him what he wanted to know? She was already going to be imprisoned for her crimes. The last thing she needed was to have her name out on the street as the one who spilled her guts. She didn’t know the identity of the buyer, but the men who’d collected the item weren’t exactly prize citizens. They were the scourge of the criminal world, and she didn’t want to find out just how dirty they could get. If he wanted answers he was going to have to find them himself.
It seemed he read her stubborn resolve, for in a swift movement he sheathed his sword and reached down, pulling her to her feet.
“You will tell me what I wish to know and you will do so now,” he said as he spun her to face the wall.
With her hands pressed against the cool stone, Daniela steeled herself to remain still as he begun stripping her of her weapons and gadgets. “Why should I waste my time? The way I see it, I’ve got nothing left to lose.”
She could feel the intense heat of his powerful form as he reached around her to slip her phone from her waistband.
“Nay, girl,” his deep voice vibrated throughout her body and his warm breath invaded her ear. “There is much you have yet to lose.”
A large hand moved slowly up along the ripe curve of her hip as he felt the pockets there. Daniela clenched her teeth. She knew that it was more than obvious that she carried nothing there. The material was, after all, like a second skin.
His hand glided higher, up her slender waist and to her chest. She struck the offending member away. “I have nothing hidden there,” she gritted out.
Something resembling a snicker reverberated within his chest. “One can never tell with you women.” He braced an arm above her head and leaned over her. “You may begin your recount,” he told her.
Daniela cast him a brief look over her shoulder. She didn’t know what was worse, his pompous attitude or the scorching heat that was passing through the entire length