Prince of Twilight Read Free Page A

her.
    Without the ring and the scroll, I’m afraid there is no hope.
    What did it mean? Was he here? Nearby? And why, when she remembered so little about their time together, had that phrase come floating in to her memory now?
    No. He wouldn’t come back to her when he knew what it did to her mind and body. He’d let her go in order to spare her going through that madness anymore. Or so she liked to believe. She’d awakened in Rhiannon’s private jet, on her way back home. And, like all of Vlad’s victims before her, her memory of her time with him had been erased.
    But not her feelings for him. Inexplicable or not, she had felt a deep sense of loss, and she’d been dying inside a little more with every single day that had passed since.
    He wasn’t here. He wouldn’t put her through that again. Unless…
    She looked again at the ring. God, could this bethe ring he’d been talking about? And what had he meant by that cryptic phrase? It was hell not remembering. Sheer hell. She should hate him for playing with her mind the way he had. Over and over she’d struggled and fought to recall the time she’d spent with him, after he’d abducted her in the dead of night so long ago. She’d even tried hypnosis, but it hadn’t worked. Nothing had. He’d robbed her of memories she sensed might be some of the best of her life. Damn him for that.
    â€œMs. Jones? Stormy?”
    Turning slowly, she met Melina’s far too curious brown eyes. “The ring is the reason you want to hire us?”
    â€œYes. What’s your connection to it?”
    Stormy frowned. “I don’t know what you mean. I have no connection to it.”
    â€œYou certainly had a strong reaction to it.”
    She shook her head. “I had a head injury a long time ago. Occasional blackouts are a side effect.”
    â€œSpeaking in tongues is a side effect, as well?”
    â€œIt’s gibberish. It doesn’t mean anything. Look, the condition of my skull is really not the issue here. Are you going to tell me what this job entails or not?”
    Melina looked at her, pursed her lips and lowered her voice. “I want you to steal it,” she whispered.
    Â 
    Stormy wasn’t sure what she had said as she had made a hasty exit from the museum. She thought she had told Melina Roscova to do something anatomically impossible, and then she’d left. She hadn’t stopped until she’d pulled up in front of the Royal Arms Hotel, where she handed her car keys and a ten-spot to a valet.
    â€œBe careful with her,” she told him. “She’s special.”
    He promised he would be, and she watched him as he drove her shiny black Nissan, with the customized plates that read Bella-Donna into the parking garage across the street. As he moved into the darkness, she heard tires squeal and winced. “One scratch, pal. You bring Belladonna back with one scratch…”
    â€œMadam?”
    She turned to see a doorman with a question in his eyes. “You’re going inside?” he asked.
    â€œYou tell that moron when he gets back that if he scratched my car, I’ll take it out of his hide. And it’s mademoiselle. Not every thirtysomething female is married, you know.”
    â€œOf course, mademoiselle. ” He opened the door, his face betraying no hint of emotion. It would have been much more satisfying if he’d been defensive or hostile or even apologetic. But…nothing.
    She headed straight for her room and started a bath running, intending to phone Max and fill her in from the tub. She was upset. She was shaken. She was damned scared of what the sight of that ring had done to her.
    She’d spoken in Romanian. And she knew exactly what she’d said, even though she didn’t speak a word of the language and never had.
    The ring belongs to me.
    Elisabeta. It had to have been her voice.
    Sixteen years ago, she’d begun having