Primal Call Page 2

  “I knit,” she said, and wished the words hadn’t come out so stiffly.

  “All my relatives knit,” James Wilde said.

  She wondered what he meant by that, but didn’t ask. She tried for a polite smile, but knew that came out stiff, too. One of the men at the table asked Wilde a question, thus eliminating her need to say any more.

  He put her purse down by her chair and took his seat as he answered the man. The lunch then proceeded to small talk, mostly between the Hollywood people. They talked about movie production, people Thena had never heard of, fashion, and a lavish children’s birthday party an actor threw for a five year old that had turned into a disaster involving accidently calling in the city’s SWAT team. This gossip was the talk of the town, apparently. Thena laughed, nodded, and made interested noises when all these things were expected. She had no idea what she ate, if anything.

  What she was aware of was James Wilde.

  What she wanted was for the torture of sitting beside him, out of reach, out of touch, out of his league, to be over.

  Eventually, everyone stood up, shook hands. Official photographs were taken. James Wilde left, without a backward glance.

  She did have some vague memory of his saying, “I’ll see you,” or “I’ll call you,” before he walked away from the table, but she doubted he’d been talking to her.

  ###

  Thena actually hummed I’m Gonna Wash That Man Right Out of My Hair while she showered. It amused her. But the steamy water pouring over her and the smooth slide of soap over her skin did nothing to alleviate the awareness of her own body James Wilde had triggered.

  Not James Wilde personally, she told herself. All right, his hands had touched her, a little—simple, social touches of her hand, on her shoulders. Seeing him nude on screen had been hard enough, knowing she would meet him later. Actually meeting him was devastating enough to knock the image of him naked right out of her head. That image came back with knee-shaking force as her fingers glided sensuously over her bare skin.

  All she was doing was rubbing herself with soap, but her senses—

  Were a bit too heated, thank you very much.

  Really, Athena Sophia Blaise, what is the matter with you? You are a woman of adult years, who knits for a hobby, cleans up after barnyard animals, and sings old Broadway songs in the shower. Oh, and you lie for a living. Other than that you are dreadfully ordinary. Oh, and you live on an Ionian island part of the year. Which is nice, but nothing so exotic as, say, a woman who can jump on her private jet and whisk her hot Irish lover off to Bora Bora at the drop of a false eyelash. You don’t even own any false eyelashes, and wouldn’t know how to put them on if you did.

  But I suppose I could hire a makeup artist. And a trainer. And a body double for the sex scenes.

  “Oh, stop it, you silly woman. He’s James Wilde.”

  James Wilde was—he was James Wilde, that’s who he was. He’d probably forgotten about her even before he walked out the door and into the camera-wielding crowd waiting for him. And there was no reason he shouldn’t. She was an obligation fulfilled for the publicity department of the movie he was working on. Just another part of the job.

  And truth be told, meeting him was an obligation of hers as well. One she’d fulfilled for the publicity department of her publishing house. It was all just business, even if it did leave her all hot and bothered for the moment.

  Tomorrow she’d head home to the reality of her land, to the stress of working on a manuscript that was due in three months, to her large, loud, nosy family. Tomorrow everything would be back to normal.

  Tonight. Well.

  A girl could dream.

  For a few moments, just as their gazes first met, there had been an electric connection between them. Hadn’t there?

  “Hollywood magic,” Thena muttered. “My imagination.” She sighed. “But a girl can dream.”

  Or, a girl could get out of the shower before the water turned her into a prune and get on with dinner and a good night’s sleep. She had an early flight to St. Louis in the morning, followed by a long ride home after that.

  She called room service, then got into pajamas and dried her hair and did all her other pre-bedtime rituals while waiting for the food to arrive. She sat on the bed and brushed her hair with thoughts of James Wilde running through her mind, and her body.

  This has to stop, she thought.

  It’s only beginning for us, she thought she heard James Wilde answer.

  She dropped the brush. It thudded onto the thick carpet just as a knock came on the door. Thena jumped to her feet. Her heart raced. For a crazed moment she thought James had come to her.

  “Oh, for—!”

  It was room service, of course.

  Thena took the tray from the young man at the door, tipped him, and set her dinner down on the room’s desk. She was aware the whole time she did these simple, ordinary things that she was shaking. Her strong reaction to her own imagination scared her.

  Maybe it’s not your imagination.

  All right! That did it!

  There were candles decorating the room, and Thena had an aunt who’d taught her how to use them for meditation. Her aunt was a psychic medium, the sort who worked with the police, solving crimes with her visions. She had ways of keeping those visions at bay when she didn’t need them. Thena had had the occasional run of nightmares when she was a kid, and seen and heard things that didn’t make any sense to a kid. Aunt Maria had taught her how to block the weird thoughts and feelings. As an adult, Thena used her imagination to earn a living, but knew right now she needed to use Aunt Maria’s training to get her imagination under control.

  Thena gathered a trio of candles on the desk, sat down before them, lit them, and cleared her mind.

  She concentrated on the flames. She concentrated on building a wall of fire around herself. She concentrated on building a wall of crystal around the flame wall. She concentrated on—

  ###

  “No! Don’t do that!” James shouted, both inside and outside his head.

  A hand landed on his shoulder as the words came out of his mouth. The awareness that it was another Prime touching him completely broke his concentration on Athena for the moment.

  He bounded to his feet, ready for combat, before he remembered where he was, and recognized the other vampire male standing in front of him.

  He was in the VIP lounge of a popular club. The other Prime’s bulk blocked anyone else seeing James’s claws and fangs. But it was very much a Bad Thing to show his true self in public. Especially in front of the bondmate of the Matri of the Los Angeles Territory. The Shagal Clan ran the area, as an outsider he lived in their city on Shagal sufferance. It was his duty to be circumspect.

  And polite.

  He had to put everything and everyone but Barak Shagal out of his mind right now. He’d get back to Athena as quickly as he could. He adjusted his features into mortal form as quickly as he’d changed. And gave a deep, respectful bow of his head.

  “Elder Barak,” he said. “The Moon Lady’s blessings on you, sir.”

  “The Desert Lord’s protection on you,” Barak answered.

  The Shagal Clan’s history went back to ancient Egypt, and they kept their connection to the jackal-headed god Anubis. James’s Family didn’t claim anything so fancy in their background.

  Around them a great deal of modern nonsense was going on—dancing, fooling around, drinking, the ingesting of controlled substances. Who among the mortals here would guess such old-fashioned, ritualistic conversation was going on at Jimmy Wilde’s reserved table?

  He gestured for Barak to take a seat. Gennie and Mimi greeted the elder Prime, then made themselves scarce. A vampire’s mortal daughter and a werewolf wisely stayed out of an Elder’s business.

  James ached to get back the connection with Thena Blaise. “What can I do for you?” he asked Barak.

  Barak was a big male, stern at the best of times. His frown didn’t lessen any when he pu
t a smartphone on the table in front of James. He turned it to show James a photo on the screen.

  “Your eyes are showing,” he told James.

  James looked at the picture of himself. In the restaurant. A few hours ago. Holding Thena’s shoulders. “My eyes are glowing.” That was not good.

  “The Corbett twins tell me that several pictures like this have popped up on the Internet, from different angles. So this is not a lone phenomena.” His last words came out as an accusation.

  So, he’d been ratted out by the Corbetts. Which made sense, as the media-manipulating geniuses of the paranormal world worked for the safety of the whole population, not just their individual clients. Still, James couldn’t help the twinge of betrayal, or the annoyance that he had to deal with the Shagals when he had something more important to do.

  But deal with Barak of Clan Shagal, he must.

  “I didn’t realize I had changed when the incident occurred.”

  And why hadn’t Athena noticed? They’d been gazing into each other’s eyes.

  He realized why, and smiled.

  “This isn’t a joke,” Barak said.

  “No, sir,” James said. “I wasn’t being amused. I was being—happy.” His smile widened.

  “You’re happy because of reckless behavior that could put us all in danger?”

  Barak’s fury hit him like a blast furnace. James held up a hand in conciliation. “No, sir. I’m not normally reckless. You know that.”

  “Are you sure playing at being a Hollywood playboy movie star isn’t taking over your Prime nature? Being in the public eye is not safe for you. And not safe for our society if you screw up.”

  “I know that,” James answered.

  He’d had to defend himself to Barak before, and to Barak’s bondmate, the Matri of Clan Shagal, who was the female head of the Clan who ruled the territory. He didn’t want to get sent packing, thrown out of his nice mansion, and the profitable and emotionally satisfying persona he’d established.

  “The very nature of what you’re doing is reckless and stupid,” Barak said.

  “The Matri of my Family approves of it. The needs of my Family have to come first for me. That said,” James went on quickly. “I apologize for this.” He tapped the image on the screen. “I didn’t realize I was doing it at the time, but I can explain why I reacted on instinct.”

  “Instinct?” Barak was skeptical.

  James kept smiling. He couldn’t help it. “I believe I met my bondmate today. The woman in the photo. That’s her. I’ve never felt anything so strong as the connection between us when I touched her. If I vamped out, well, how could I help it?”

  Barak’s annoyance instantly turned into pleasure, his frown into a wide smile. He clapped James on the shoulder. “Bondmate! Congratulations!” He looked around the VIP lounge. “If you’ve found the love of your soul, what are you doing here?”

  What he’d been doing was easing into telepathic contact with her when Barak interfered, but James didn’t point that out. Psychic communication with the girl of one’s dreams was very much a private matter.

  “I’m contractually obliged to spend time here on Thursday nights when I’m in town,” James said. “Venues pay celebrities to hang out, you know, if they want to remain hot and trendy.”

  “No, I didn’t know.” Barak shook his head. “Such times we live in. Your greed embarrasses me,” he added.

  “It’s all for my Family.”

  The Clans were all noble and chivalrous—and rich.

  And deeply romantic, Barak reminded James when he said, “Your Family will understand. Go to your lover.”

  “Yes, sir, I will.”

  Barak stood. He pocketed the phone. “And keep your courtship out of the media from now on.”

  ###

  Gennie and Mimi came back to the table as soon as Barak was gone. They settled down in their usual spots on either side of James, and he put an arm around each of them. Being surrounded by beautiful women was part of the James Wilde persona, and pretty much the natural condition for Vampire Primes too. Gennie was James’ half-sister if one went by mortal standards. Their sire was a Clan Prime. His mother was a Family female, and Gennie’s was a mortal woman. James had been born from a brief sexual liaison for the sake of producing a child for her Family. Gennie was much younger, the child of a bonding between Prime and mortal woman. Like most children of a Prime/Mortal bond, she was mortal, but with benefits. Gennie was a very strong telepath.

  Mimi Bleythin was a black-haired, blue-eyed, tall, long-legged, gorgeous werewolf. Mimi was in mortal shape at the moment, but could transform into her were-shape in an instant. Which would wreck her clothes if she didn’t get the chance to strip before shifting. James always appreciated when she returned to human form, delightfully naked.

  “I can smell what you’re thinking,” she said.

  “Merely a pleasant, casual thought. My heart is given elsewhere.” And it was. Goddess, it really was, after only one meeting. He sighed.

  “Happy to hear it,” Mimi said. “You’re not sexy to me.”

  She growled when he scratched behind her delicate human-shaped ear, but he knew she liked it. Mimi glared at him over the edge of a champagne flute. Then her attention switched to a trio of acquaintances as they came up to the table. She took her security job very seriously, even if, as a Prime, he was stronger and faster than a werewolf. He didn’t live most of his life as a Prime, and Mimi didn’t protect him in her shifted form. She was very efficient without having to grow fur.

  Not that any intervention was required from her at the moment. She relaxed when James nodded. He said hello to the newcomers, invited them to sit. They did, and stayed just long enough for people to see them being seen with Jimmy Wilde. They soon went back to working the room. James sighed with relief, and settled back with his head against the tan leather of the booth’s high headrest. He left his companions on watch, closed his eyes, and got back to what he desperately needed to be doing.

  Athena! Thena, are you there?

  Fire flickered through a thick crystal egg where Athena ought to be. The crystal was sharp and cold and pushed him away.

  “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “What doesn’t?” Gennie asked.

  James jumped in surprise. He opened his eyes. He stared at Gennie. “What am I doing here?”

  “You haven’t moved.”

  “You know what I mean.” When she shook her head, James explained, “I was out of my body—or trying to be. Got kicked right back into my own head before I was really aware of being out of it.”

  He hoped no one had overheard what he’d just said. Though they’d probably think he was talking about some sort of acting exercise.

  He remembered what Athena had been doing just before Barak interrupted him. “I think she’s set up some sort of psychic shielding. She has no idea how good she is,” he added proudly.

  “You’ve barely met the woman. Hardly spent any time in her brain,” Gennie said. “You seem awful sure of her talent.” She sipped from a huge martini glass. “Give it another shot, Jimmy.”

  Of course he was going to try again! He’d prefer to go to Thena physically, to talk to her, to make love to her. To taste her. His fangs ached with the longing to taste her. But that would have to wait until later, wait until he was absolutely sure there was no one watching him, spying on him, following him. Soon. But in the meantime, he needed to touch her thoughts. She needed to get to know him, trust him—like him. And he ached to know her, as well. Bonding was about so much more than sex and blood.

  Although that part was great, too.

  Or so he’d been told, and intended to find out.

  “Close you eyes, we’ve got your back,” Gennie said.

  “Back, front, and sides,” Mimi said. “Fly away now, boss.”

  He leaned back again.

  James didn’t close his eyes, this time. He took a sip of good Irish whisky. tasted the smoky sweet burn of it down his throa
t while a part of himself went searching for a different place, and mind. People were watching, and he didn’t need to look zoned-out to practice telepathy.

  Crystal wall. Cold and sharp and slippery. Wall of fire. Get past the crystal and the fire waited.

  Thena!

  She was inside the barriers.

  Thena!

  Right in the middle. Alone. By herself.

  Afraid.

  Afraid of him? Afraid of herself?

  Come out! Touch me! Let me touch you!

  Please.

  She couldn’t hear him, not behind those thick barriers.

  He circled. He ran. He clawed. He aimed all the fire of his being at one spot on the crystal, trying to burn his way through.

  Forever passed, and all that came of it was a tiny black speck of ash on a miniscule patch of the crystal surface.

  James was soaked with sweat when he brought all of his attention back to the nightclub. He glanced from Gennie to Mimi, who were staring at him.

  “What happened?” the werewolf asked.

  “She’s locked herself away from me.” He wiped the back of his hand across his brow, fought off the urge to howl in pain and frustration. “Why would she do that?”

  “Because she’s a woman with a crush on a movie star,” Mimi said. “That makes her feel weak and stupid, and she doesn’t like it. So she built herself a wall, put her feelings inside it.”