Read Online Night's Cold Kiss by Tracey O'Hara - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Tracey O'Hara
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well. It’d visited every childhood nightmare. That same cold smile chilled her now, just as it had back then.
“Mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbird.” The killer continued to sing the same haunting lullaby he’d sung all those years ago as he slit her mother’s throat before her six-year-old eyes.
She felt warmth pooling around her feet and she looked down expecting to see she’d wet herself with fright, just as she had back then. But it was blood. Her blood.
The scream tore from her throat. “Nooooooo!”
7
Mother, Oh Mother
Sitting bolt upright, chest heaving, Antoinette shook herself out of the nightmare. Perspiration ran down her face and the dress clung to her damp skin. Gulping back air, she looked at her watch. Only about fifteen minutes had passed.
It’d been several years since he’d visited her sleep. Dream demons and memories haunted her as she stumbled into the bathroom. The reflection of her flushed face blurred as tears filled her eyes and her brain hammered against the inside of her skull.
The night Dante Rubins slit her mother’s throat Antoinette had been six years old and just as helpless as she was in her dream. The image of Mama’s blue eyes dimming as death took her had haunted Antoinette ever since. Dante had maintained a total hold over Antoinette’s mind and body, making her watch the lifeblood seep from her mother’s jugular to soak the front her dress.
Maybe the dream was an omen, warning her against becoming too complacent, reminding her of who and what Christian and his friend were. Things were never as they appeared on the surface and she sensed they were hiding something. The Aeternus were not to be trusted. Ever.She’d never turn her back on a dreniac, nor should she on an Aeternus.
After Antoinette tidied herself up, she found her shoes and slipped them on. When she reached the door, her shaking hand stopped inches from the handle. Her heart pounded as the nightmare aftershocks haunted her.
Déjà vu.
Get a hold of yourself—it was just a dream.
Still, she had to crack the door slightly to be able to hear anything in this soundproofed room. Through the gap she heard familiar voices, speaking in low tones and relaxed her forehead against the wall to gather herself.
“Are you certain she doesn’t know?” that Viktor-guy said.
She pressed her ear closer to the crack.
“Yes,” her uncle’s voice answered. “If she did she would have…” His voice trailed off as he moved away and she could no longer make out what he was saying.
Would have what? Who were they talking about?
“Still, she’ll have to be told eventually,” Christian’s voice said with a sting in his tone.
“Da. But not yet.” Sergei only reverted to his native tongue when he was drunk, very tired, or stressed, and he didn’t sound all that drunk or tired.
“It’ll have to be soon if she is going to help with the investigation,” Christian said.
“Let me find out what I can from my Guild contacts first. It’s a matter requiring…delicacy. Not Antoinette’s greatest forte.”
She stiffened in stunned silence, her hand now resting on the handle. Why would Uncle Sergei keep things from her? There was only one way to find out.
The suite door flew open and crashed against the wall. Christian turned as Antoinette exploded into the room, eyes firing and face flushed.
“What’s going on here?” she demanded, her fists clenching and unclenching.
Sergei leaned forward against his cane. “Antoinette, I—”
She turned on him. “Even you…” Her voice rose a hysterical octave. “Sneaking around behind my back, keeping secrets from me. I would never have expected it of you, Uncle.”
Sergei looked away, his shoulders slumping.
“That’s enough.” Christian’s voice was controlled, belying the anger that seethed within—she’d pushed too far.
Turning on him, she met his gaze squarely. “You mind your own business, vampire,” she spat.
“I’ve told you not to
“Mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbird.” The killer continued to sing the same haunting lullaby he’d sung all those years ago as he slit her mother’s throat before her six-year-old eyes.
She felt warmth pooling around her feet and she looked down expecting to see she’d wet herself with fright, just as she had back then. But it was blood. Her blood.
The scream tore from her throat. “Nooooooo!”
7
Mother, Oh Mother
Sitting bolt upright, chest heaving, Antoinette shook herself out of the nightmare. Perspiration ran down her face and the dress clung to her damp skin. Gulping back air, she looked at her watch. Only about fifteen minutes had passed.
It’d been several years since he’d visited her sleep. Dream demons and memories haunted her as she stumbled into the bathroom. The reflection of her flushed face blurred as tears filled her eyes and her brain hammered against the inside of her skull.
The night Dante Rubins slit her mother’s throat Antoinette had been six years old and just as helpless as she was in her dream. The image of Mama’s blue eyes dimming as death took her had haunted Antoinette ever since. Dante had maintained a total hold over Antoinette’s mind and body, making her watch the lifeblood seep from her mother’s jugular to soak the front her dress.
Maybe the dream was an omen, warning her against becoming too complacent, reminding her of who and what Christian and his friend were. Things were never as they appeared on the surface and she sensed they were hiding something. The Aeternus were not to be trusted. Ever.She’d never turn her back on a dreniac, nor should she on an Aeternus.
After Antoinette tidied herself up, she found her shoes and slipped them on. When she reached the door, her shaking hand stopped inches from the handle. Her heart pounded as the nightmare aftershocks haunted her.
Déjà vu.
Get a hold of yourself—it was just a dream.
Still, she had to crack the door slightly to be able to hear anything in this soundproofed room. Through the gap she heard familiar voices, speaking in low tones and relaxed her forehead against the wall to gather herself.
“Are you certain she doesn’t know?” that Viktor-guy said.
She pressed her ear closer to the crack.
“Yes,” her uncle’s voice answered. “If she did she would have…” His voice trailed off as he moved away and she could no longer make out what he was saying.
Would have what? Who were they talking about?
“Still, she’ll have to be told eventually,” Christian’s voice said with a sting in his tone.
“Da. But not yet.” Sergei only reverted to his native tongue when he was drunk, very tired, or stressed, and he didn’t sound all that drunk or tired.
“It’ll have to be soon if she is going to help with the investigation,” Christian said.
“Let me find out what I can from my Guild contacts first. It’s a matter requiring…delicacy. Not Antoinette’s greatest forte.”
She stiffened in stunned silence, her hand now resting on the handle. Why would Uncle Sergei keep things from her? There was only one way to find out.
The suite door flew open and crashed against the wall. Christian turned as Antoinette exploded into the room, eyes firing and face flushed.
“What’s going on here?” she demanded, her fists clenching and unclenching.
Sergei leaned forward against his cane. “Antoinette, I—”
She turned on him. “Even you…” Her voice rose a hysterical octave. “Sneaking around behind my back, keeping secrets from me. I would never have expected it of you, Uncle.”
Sergei looked away, his shoulders slumping.
“That’s enough.” Christian’s voice was controlled, belying the anger that seethed within—she’d pushed too far.
Turning on him, she met his gaze squarely. “You mind your own business, vampire,” she spat.
“I’ve told you not to
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