Kisses from Hell Read online

  The guy’s posture went rigid, his eyes still wide, and she suddenly regretted her words. Had he known one of the victims? She felt stupid and awkward, silently berating herself for not thinking before she spoke.

  “I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have—”

  “You remember that?” he asked, his voice as puzzled as before.

  “Yes…how couldn’t I? I mean…well, I didn’t know anyone personally, but all those people…most were Lazars, but there was that Szelsky lord…and Prince Dragomir’s wife. What was her name?”

  “Alma,” he said softly, still regarding her wonderingly.

  Rhea hesitated, not sure how much she should say about it. She was certain now that he’d known someone. “Well, it was horrible. Beyond horrible. I can’t even imagine how their families must feel….”

  “It was six months ago,” he said abruptly.

  Rhea frowned, trying to figure out the meaning in that statement. He wasn’t brushing it off or implying that six months was a long time—which, in her opinion, it wasn’t. He spoke as though he was testing her, which didn’t make much sense.

  “I don’t think six months is a long enough time to get over losing someone you love,” she said at last. “I know I couldn’t. Did—did you know anyone there?”

  He opened his mouth to say something, but a sudden wave jolted the boat. It lurched slightly, causing a few eager squeals from the crowd beyond them. Rhea gasped and squeezed the rail harder—which she honestly hadn’t thought was even possible—and lost her footing a little. Her companion caught hold of her, helping her stay steady as the boat righted itself and regained its smooth sailing.

  Deep breaths, deep breaths, she told herself. Wasn’t that what people did to calm themselves? Heavy breathing didn’t seem to be a problem for her. She was on the verge of hyperventilating, and her heart felt like it was going to pound right out of her chest.

  “Easy,” he said, voice low and soothing. “You’re okay. It was just a bad wave.”

  Rhea couldn’t answer. Her body remained taut and locked, unable to move or react in her terror.

  “Hey,” he tried again. “Everything’s fine. Look—we’re almost there, see?”

  With much effort, Rhea turned to where he nodded. Sure enough, the island was much closer. A cluster of lights marked the dock, and figures along the shore seemed ready to guide them in.

  Exhaling, she relaxed her grip—a tiny bit—and shifted her body. He still held on to her, apparently unsure if she really was okay.

  “Thank you,” she managed at last. “I’m…I’m fine now.”

  He waited a few more moments and then finally released her. As he lifted his hand from where it had been pressed against one of hers, he seemed surprised to notice the ring she wore. Its large marquise-cut diamond glittered like a star on her finger. He stared at it in shock as though she was wearing a cobra wrapped around her hand.

  “Are you…are you engaged?”

  “To Stephen Badica.”

  “Seriously?”

  The tone of his voice—his complete sense of disbelief—suddenly triggered a fierce spark of anger in her. Of course he was surprised. Why wouldn’t he be? Everyone else was. They all wondered how it was possible that Rhea Daniels—who was only half-royal—could have caught the interest of someone who came from such a prestigious branch of his line. Her parents’ marriage had been a big enough scandal. Everyone had thought her mother married beneath her, and Rhea knew the sting of that was what had caused her mother to encourage this engagement to Stephen.

  Still, Rhea hated the insinuations. She’d heard the whispers; she knew people who wondered if maybe her parents had cut some kind of deal with Stephen’s parents, some bribe. Others said that Stephen was interested because she was easy—and that the engagement wouldn’t last once he tired of her. She knew they seemed like a weird match. Rhea was quiet—more of an observer of the world. Stephen was outgoing and boisterous, always at the center of the world—so much so that he was off now with the others, reliving the earlier excitement.

  Rhea stepped back from the blond guy. “Yes,” she said crisply. “Seriously. He’s great. He invited me along.” She was one of the few people here who hadn’t attended St. Vladimir’s Academy.

  “Yeah…” This guy didn’t sound entirely sure. Mostly, he still seemed baffled. “I just…I just can’t see you guys together.”

  Of course not. He was obviously someone very elite. Even among royalty, there were those who were better than others. It was honestly a wonder he was even talking to her.

  “Don’t you worry…don’t you worry you’re too young?” Again, he carried that wondering tone, further incensing her.

  “When you’ve found someone good, you don’t need to jump from person to person.”

  He flinched and seemed to fumble for a response, making her wonder if she’d hit a sensitive area. He was saved when a pretty brown-haired girl called to him to come join them. She addressed him as Eric.

  “You’d better go,” said Rhea. “It was nice talking to you.”

  He started to turn and then hesitated once more. “What’s your name?”

  “Rhea Daniels.”

  “Rhea…” He said the name as though he was analyzing each syllable. “I’m Eric.”

  “Yeah, I heard.” She stared back over the boat’s edge, signaling that she was done talking to him. She had the impression he might say something more, but after several heavy seconds, she could just make out the sound of him walking away as the waves crashed alongside the boat.

  Three

  Everyone was ready to party as soon as they stepped off the dock. Despite the black sky, it was midday for the Moroi—a bit early for revelry, but no one seemed to care. And after everyone caught their first glimpse of the Zeklos beach house, it was easy to forgive Jared for the late start. Even Eric was in awe, and he’d been surrounded by luxury his entire life. The giant estate sprawled on a small bluff, the entire building covered in windows that promised a spectacular view from almost anywhere inside. Exotic trees partially covered the property, making it difficult for passing boats to discern many details. Moroi interacted with humans all the time but still sought out privacy when possible. Far beyond the house, on the other side of the island, were some rocky cliffs.

  The guardians made everyone stay on the yacht while a safety sweep of the island was performed. Most of Eric’s classmates grumbled about this, Emma included. No one seemed to think Strigoi could have infiltrated the island, but Eric knew it was just as easy for Strigoi to get in a boat as anyone else. Jared’s father had his own guardians on the grounds, but that didn’t mean Strigoi couldn’t have slipped in on a previous night.

  Eric was still a little disgusted at everyone’s flippant attitude about the Strigoi, but other thoughts pushed the disapproval to the back of his mind. Like Rhea Daniels.

  Why had she gotten so mad at him? He’d replayed their conversation over and over, trying to figure out what he might have said. The only thing he could guess was that she’d taken some offense over his surprise about her being with Stephen. Maybe she’d thought Eric was insulting Stephen. That hadn’t been Eric’s intent—though he still believed the two were an unlikely couple. Stephen was always loud, always drawing attention to himself and making people laugh. Maybe opposites really did attract, but Eric thought it was telling that he’d never heard of Stephen having a fiancée until now. Of course, since they’d all just graduated, the engagement could have been a recent event.

  In fact, thinking back to their wait on the beach, Eric recalled seeing Stephen telling jokes and entertaining the others. Rhea hadn’t been nearby. Or had she been? Maybe Eric had just overlooked her—not that that seemed possible. How could anyone overlook her? Even now, faced with the tantalizing prospect of parties to come, Eric found his mind consumed with his memories of her. The soft, golden blond hair that seemed so much more alive than his own, almost like the forbidden sunshine he so longed for. The faint scattering of freckles a
cross her pale skin—a rarity among the Moroi. And the eyes…her eyes were a rich hazel, flecked with green and gold. There had been something infinitely wise and kind in those eyes, particularly when she’d spoken about the massacre. She hadn’t known anyone in it, but it had still pained her.

  “Finally,” said Emma. The guardians were ushering the Moroi onto the dock and up into the island. “I can’t wait to see what kind of rooms we have. Miranda was here once and said they’re huge.”

  They were indeed, but Eric didn’t spend much time in his. Moroi servants—nonroyals, of course—carried in the guests’ baggage and made sure everyone knew where their room assignments were. Enormous it might be, but the house couldn’t provide thirty bedrooms, so some people had to share. Eric was one of the lucky ones who had his own, which didn’t surprise him. With his father’s status and power, most royals wanted to get in good with him. Jared’s family would be no exception.

  After that brief stop, everyone spilled out toward the back of the house, where the Zeklos servants had been hard at work. In a secluded, tiled area bordered by sheltering trees, tall torches were staked into the ground, lighting up the darkness with eerie, flickering light. The scents of roasting meat and other delicacies filled the air, and in the center of it all was a man-made lagoon, its water a deep, crystalline blue that was lit from within by cleverly embedded lights. The entire pool glowed like something otherworldly.

  Jared’s father, a thin man with slanting black eyebrows and a waxed mustache, gave a brief speech congratulating them on their graduation from high school and wishing them luck on whatever roads they chose to follow. When he finished, the festivities kicked in immediately. Music blared from unseen speakers, and all thoughts of future responsibility and important plans were quickly forgotten.

  Eric threw himself into the drinking and dancing, suddenly wanting nothing more than to forget everything for a while. He didn’t want to think about his mother or that awful, nightmarish face down on the beach. He didn’t want to think about the legacy left to him, of being the heir to a dying royal line. He didn’t want to think about his father’s plans for him. And above all, Eric most certainly didn’t want to think about the solemn girl he’d met on the boat. Sometimes he found parties like this trite, but other times…well, in the hardest moments of his life, crazy revelry was a welcome escape.

  “This is the most fun you’ve been in a while,” exclaimed Emma, shouting to be heard over the music.

  Eric grinned and pulled her close to him with one arm as they danced. His other hand was precariously holding a drink—and not doing a very good job of it. Considering it was his third, it probably didn’t matter if he lost some.

  “You don’t think I’m usually fun?” he teased.

  Emma shook her head. “No…you’ve just been so serious lately. Like you’re nervous about…I don’t know. Nervous about the future.” She knocked back some of her own drink and frowned prettily. “Are you?”

  It was a surprisingly pensive moment for her, and Eric wasn’t sure how to respond. Emma was usually all about living in the now, about seeking as much fun and excitement as she could—without thinking of the consequences. It was one of the things he liked best about her when his own worries plagued him.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted, deciding he needed to finish his own drink if this conversation was going to continue. Both the music and topic made it difficult to continue. “There’s just so much pressure…so many decisions that could affect the rest of my life.”

  Emma stood up on her tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss. “Just because you have to make a decision doesn’t mean it’s going to have bad consequences. And some of us don’t mind standing with you through it all.”

  Through his haze of vodka martinis, he heard a subtle hint about their engagement in her statement. Eric decided then that he wished they hadn’t strayed onto this topic. He was going to suggest another drink, but a distraction of a different kind popped up.

  “And now,” a voice declared, managing to carry over the heavy bass of the music, “I will attempt a feat never, ever before attempted by anyone in history. Not ever.”

  Eric and Emma turned, finding Stephen Badica standing on a chair by the edge of the pool. Everyone in his vicinity stopped what they were doing to watch. Even without his theatrics, Stephen often drew eyes. He had a build that was a bit brawnier than the typically slim Moroi figure, giving him a look he joked was “rugged and manly.” He didn’t have pretty-boy features, but the strong lines of his chiseled face met with the approval of most girls—especially since he always seemed to be smiling.

  Stephen held up a shot glass. “I’m going to jump into the pool and finish this shot before I hit the water.”

  This was met with cheers and whistles, as well as the cries of a few naysayers protesting that he’d be spilling whiskey in the water. Stephen held up his free hand as though calling for silence—impossible in this situation—and then leaped off the chair. It all happened fast, but Eric was pretty sure he saw Stephen actually down the shot before hitting the water—in his clothes—cannonball-style. Water exploded everywhere, and there were a few squeals of surprise as several people got soaked. Emma was among them, her slinky red dress catching a particularly large wave.

  More cheers erupted from the spectators, and Stephen emerged from the pool holding up his hands in victory. After a few whoops of joy, he then challenged others to do it. Naturally, there were several volunteers.

  Watching Stephen, Eric realized he wasn’t going to be able to push aside all his cares tonight. There was a part of him that kept secretly hoping he’d see sunny blond hair in the crowd. Turning to Emma, who was futilely trying to wring water out of her skirt, he asked, “Hey, do you know anything about Stephen being engaged?”

  “Huh?” Emma’s eyes were still on her skirt. “Oh, yeah. To some girl from…I don’t remember. Some other school. She’s here somewhere—she’s got blond hair. Kind of quiet. Why?”

  Eric shrugged. “I just heard about it earlier and was surprised that Stephen was engaged. I never thought he was the settling down type.”

  Emma gave up on her dress and looked back up. “More like he doesn’t seem the type to settle down with her.”

  “What? Why? What’s wrong with her?”

  “She’s only half-royal.” Emma couldn’t keep the scorn out of her voice. “Her mom’s an Ozera, I think, but her dad’s a nobody.”

  “That’s kind of harsh.”

  “Hey, I’ve got nothing against her. And she’s done pretty good to snag Stephen. Nice work there. That’s definitely going to bring her up in the world.” Emma tugged at Eric’s shirt, Stephen and Rhea already forgotten. “Come on. My dress is ruined.”

  “Huh? What are you—”

  Maybe it was the abrupt change in topic—or just too much to drink—but Eric wasn’t able to stop Emma when she jerked him toward the pool. They landed ungracefully, sending more water up over the edge and onto the patterned tile. Other people had already followed Stephen’s example, and Eric thought it a miracle he hadn’t landed on anyone already in the pool.

  “Ugh,” he said, looking down at his waterlogged clothes. Emma laughed in triumph and threw her arms around him.

  “Gotcha,” she said.

  He started to complain but soon discovered it was hard to with Emma pressed up against him. Uncaring of the others around, she kissed him, and Eric found the feel of her body, with its tightly clinging dress, was better than alcohol for forgetting his worries. He jerked her closer, running his hand over her hip.

  “You want to call it an early night?” she asked huskily, breaking the kiss at last.

  Eric hesitated, thinking that might be a very good idea. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught the longed-for glimpse of shining gold hair. Rhea Daniels was here after all. She slipped inside the house’s elaborate glass doors, but not before her eyes flicked over to him. On her face, he saw…what? Disapproval? Scorn? He wasn’t sure, but suddenly,
inexplicably, he knew he had to talk to her.

  Reluctantly pulling away from Emma, he got his first good look at just how much her wet dress revealed. “I want to stay,” he said, forcing what he hoped was a reckless smile. “But not in these clothes.”

  She tried to draw him back. “Want me to help take them off?”

  “Later,” he said, kissing her forehead. He began climbing out of the pool. “I’m going to change. Be right back.”

  Emma pouted, but as he’d suspected, she felt no need to put on dry clothes, despite the chill in the air. She didn’t mind showing off her body to others and would no doubt tolerate the cold in exchange for attention. “Fine, but don’t take long.” He helped her out. “I’m getting another drink.”

  Once she was on her way to the bar, Eric hurried inside the house, hoping he could find Rhea in its labyrinthine setup. Others wandered through, either chatting or seeking privacy, but there was no sign of Rhea. He passed the kitchen, filled with bustling staff who were still working hard to keep up with the demand for appetizers and liquor. Frustrated, he pulled someone aside and asked if she’d seen anyone matching Rhea’s description.

  “Sure,” said the serving girl. “She went toward the feeders.”

  Eric offered his thanks and ran toward the wing of the house she directed him to. Visiting feeders at a party like this was strange. Sometimes feeders were actually kept in the middle of a party, but with the estate’s setup, getting blood meant leaving the festivities. Most people—including Eric—had fed beforehand.

  Moving quickly, he reached the entrance to the feeders’ room just as Rhea was about to go inside. Hearing his footfall, she paused in the doorway. Those golden-green eyes widened in surprise. She’d changed out of her earlier jeans into a clingy green cashmere dress that seemed both demure and sexy to him. Seeing her in full light now, he was astonished at just how beautiful she was. And that hair, oh that hair.