Eternal: More Love Stories With Bite Read Online Free Page B

moved. But pain had made her giddy, and her recognition was only a very faraway fact, more amusing than anything else.

    When at last the slim shadow came toward her, blood- soaked, she just watched him from her place on the ground until he said, in his thick Russian accent, "Patrice?"

    "Ivan Derevko." She made a sound that was half cough, half laugh. "Fighting for Mother Russia again?"

    "Always. God knows who you are fighting for, but I dare say you lost." Ivan stepped closer to her, so that she could see him more clearly in the moonlight. He wore a long gray woolen coat and a black scarf looped around his neck, both somewhat disheveled from the fight. His blond hair and beard were striped with blood, and his smile still showed his fangs; it was how she remembered him best.

    "I have to get to Stalag VII-A. As fast as I can. You have to help me."

    "I? I have to do nothing. Luckily for you, your charms are such that I will help you as soon as it would do any good. In other words, not yet."

    Charlie was in a prison bunk, sick and maybe dying. "Damn you to hell."

    "Our mutual sire took care of that for both of us. Convenient. But whoever it is you hope to kill, you won't be able to manage it until that leg has healed."

    Patrice wanted to argue, but she wanted to sleep even more. That deep, powerful urge to rest was a sign that her vampire body was attempting to shut down and repair itself. "I don't trust you."

    "Wise of you. And yet tonight, you have no other choice." Ivan stooped to lift her in his arms. His embrace filled her with memories of years gone by—or were those dreams? Patrice could no longer tell the difference.

    * * * *
    She awoke in a house made of ivy.

    No, Patrice realized—it was a regular house, but one so long-abandoned by humans that ivy had reclaimed the walls, the ceiling, even most of the floors. Ivy ignored winter and remained vividly green, its dark leaves defiant against the snow and ice that caked every other surface. The fireplace had been cleared out, or Ivan had simply started a fire there without caring if the ivy would eventually catch and burn down the entire structure. That would be like him.

    Groggily she pushed herself up on her elbows. Ivan sat in the corner, on a metal chair that also was overgrown with ivy. His face remained as unearthly beautiful as ever: narrow but masculine, with high cheekbones and piercing blue eyes. Apparently Julien had turned him as a kind of work of art; at least, so Ivan claimed. But Patrice could believe it. He hugged his arms as though he were cold, and she realized that she was lying on his coat.

    "I like what you've done with the place," she said.

    "It's not much, but it's home." Ivan's wolfish grin made her smile despite herself. "Now, the story. For two weeks I've been tracking you. I recognized your scent—the style of your kills —but I told myself, Patrice is much too sensible to decide that wartime is the perfect opportunity to travel in Europe. I wasn't convinced it was you until I saw you for myself."

    "The man I love is in a German POW camp. I'm here to get him out."

    Ivan didn't immediately react, but Patrice could tell the smile was no longer entirely genuine. Then he surprised her—he laughed. "Still you are trying to replace me. Not so easily done."

    "You replaced me well enough. Did I object when you took up with that Greek girl? What was her name— Athena?"

    Ivan shrugged. "That was ten years after you left me. I shouldn't have expected you to object."

    "Now it's twenty years after I left you. So let's put the past in the past." Patrice pushed herself the rest of the way up, so that she was sitting down instead of lying down. "You must hate the Nazis as much as I do. Won't you enjoy helping me? Think of the fun we'll have, killing them all."

    "If I help you, it won't be for fun. And it won't be out of hate," he said quietly.

    Rather than acknowledge the true meaning of his words, Patrice turned her attention to her