Free Frostfire by Lynn Viehl

curls. “Who did he steal it from? A pope?”
    “I believe it was a gift from a grateful subject.” Gabriel Seran, her companion and lover, smiled a little, his green eyes glowing with affection as he ignored the villa and kept his gaze on her face. “You are nervous.”
    “No, I’m not.” Nick shoved her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “Just remind me never to volunteer to be his Secret Santa.”
    The second guard returned, murmuring something in archaic French to Gabriel before opening the gates and escorting them to the villa’s front entry, where they were met by a much bigger man.
    “Welcome to Ì Àrd , Miss Jefferson.” The blond giant bowed, but Nick noticed he never took his hand from the hilt of his sword. He turned to Gabriel and repeated the bow. “Lord Seran. I hope your crossing was without incident. He expected you to arrive yesterday.”
    “Richard often expects rather more than can be reasonably accomplished with such short notice.” Gabriel’s expression remained impassive. “Why did he summon us, Korvel?”
    “My lord will explain the matter. This way, please.”
    The captain led them through the front of the house to a long row of stained-glass doors depicting a series of kings on thrones.
    “ Ì Àrd ,” Nick muttered. “What’s that mean? ‘I not soft’?”
    “It’s Gaelic,” Gabriel told her. “It means ‘high island.’ ”
    Korvel escorted them through the center pair of doors out into a courtyard garden filled with broad rose-bushes and jasmine-laden trellises.
    “My lord,” the captain said. “Lord Seran and his sygkenis have arrived.”
    A dark figure appeared. “Leave us, Korvel.”
    The captain withdrew, and Nick glanced around. The fragrance of the thousands of blooming flowers colored the air, but didn’t quite mask a deeper, darker scent radiating from the cloaked man who came to stand beside the center fountain.
    The last time Nick had met Richard Tremayne, high lord of the immortal Darkyn, his scent had been almost identical to that of cherry tobacco. That had been almost a year ago, under less than ideal circumstances that had changed her life forever, and (although she would never admit it) for the better. Now the most powerful immortal on the planet gave off a headier, sweeter scent, she thought, more like chocolate-covered cherries.
    Nick approved of the change, but she didn’t let her guard down. Richard could be as unpredictable as he was dangerous, and the only time he wasn’t actively scheming was when he was unconscious.
    The hood of the high lord’s cloak kept his face in shadow as he turned toward them, but Nick could see the gleam of his dark eyes as he inspected Gabriel and then her.
    “My lord.” Gabriel bowed. “You sent for us?”
    “Four days past I sent for you.” Richard’s voice, which he could use like a weapon on both humans and immortals, crackled with displeasure. “What kept you from attending me?”
    “Oh, the usual,” Nick answered before her lover could reply. “Smuggling people across borders, dodging their killers, and trying not to get our asses fried in the process. You know.” She showed him her teeth. “Our little hobby.”
    “You could not have left her in Aberdeen?” Richard asked Gabriel.
    Her lover folded his arms. “Where I go, my lord, she goes.”
    “And here we are,” Nick added. “So, Vampire King, where’s the goddamned fire?”
    Nick knew she was pushing it, but she didn’t care. Richard wouldn’t have bothered sending for both of them if he didn’t need to use her as well as Gabriel. She was the only immortal who could sense hidden or captured Kyn, and Gabriel could track anything that breathed. Whatever her lover felt he did or didn’t owe to the high lord, she’d made it clear to Richard that she wouldn’t be used as his personal vampire GPS.
    “We have a situation in America,” Richard said at last. “I need you to hunt down a Darkyn who has gone rogue.” When Nick