“I won’t share you with anyone, mo chroí,” he told her, his tone serious. “If we bond—"
“I don’t share well either,” she interjected. “So I suppose you’re stuck with me.”
Waverly’s heart pounded in her chest as he rose and stalked toward her. No matter the beast inside him, Viktor exuded the kind of sex and confidence she found irresistible. She wanted this man with her, around her, in her…forever.
She craved his touch, his kiss, his bite.
He gave her a sexy smile as he reached for a robe lying at the edge of the bed. As she swung her feet onto the ground to sit, he draped it over her shoulders. She tunneled her arms through its sleeves and stood, facing him. Her heart melted as he carefully wrapped it closed and tied it. His energy thrummed through her, his palms running over her shoulders, then taking her hands in his.
“I have a surprise for you. Something I’ve never shown anyone. Are you ready?” Viktor asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“I’d go anywhere with you.” Waverly’s pulse raced at her own words. She hadn’t meant to commit but there was no way she’d give him up.
“You’re going to love this.”
As they materialized into the majestic ballroom, Waverly’s eyes widened in surprise. She took a step onto the cool, white, marble floor, her attention drawn to its walls that had been hand-painted with decorative murals, crown molding adorning its borders. She glanced to a Steinway grand piano that sat in the center of the room. Gold inlay within the intricately carved rosewood sparkled underneath the light.
“What is this place?” she whispered, looking upward to an epic, domed glass ceiling. With a crystal-clear night, the stars appeared so bright she thought she could touch them. Green and bluish lights danced across the sky.
“This is my private gallery. I’ve never brought anyone here but you.” Viktor gestured to the seating area. “I come here when I need to think.”
“Where are we?” Waverly asked, her instinct warning her he’d taken her far from Miami.
“Iceland.” Viktor smiled and walked to the golden antique table and chairs that had been meticulously set for dining for two. He reached to retrieve a bottle of champagne from an ice bucket and poured the bubbly into glasses.
A rush of adrenaline shot through her as she took in the sight of the magnificent room. Viktor Christianson. At every step, the charismatic vampire surprised her. Hours ago, she’d been surrounded by death, and she now stood within the walls of a palace.
“Is this a castle?” she asked in awe.
“Technically no, but it’s my sanctuary. My home.” Viktor handed her a flute of champagne.
“You were born here?”
“No. I was born in Ireland. I’m a Celt. I was brought over to Iceland with a group of monks.”
“You’re a monk?” she asked, attempting to conceal her shock.
“Who? Me? Hell no. But I did spend time with them as a boy. You see, I was orphaned. I don’t have much memory of my parents. They both died when I was a boy. My aunt sent me off to be raised by the monks. Which really meant I was a servant. I sometimes think about how different my life would have been had she kept me, but she was unmarried and but a peasant girl herself. She could hardly afford to feed another mouth. Times were difficult back then.” Viktor shrugged. “After nearly a year with the monks, we were attacked. The Vikings invaded and took me. I was raised to fight, which I did…until I died. And that’s all she wrote.”
“I’m sorry.” Waverly placed her hand on his arm.
“No reason to be sorry. Every year on this big blue space ball has been a lesson. And I’m very happy to say this year has been the best year yet, because,” he smiled, his eyes on hers, and held up his glass, “I met you. To my beautiful art curator.”
Waverly’s face heated as she brought the rim to her lips, the bubbles dancing over her tongue. “I’m glad we met too.”
“Aaaand…” Viktor gestured to the table, “…we can celebrate with some food. But first, I’ve got a surprise for you.”
“Another surprise?” She laughed, confused as to how he could have arranged for food in his home in Iceland, let alone planned something else.
“What I’m about to show you. I want you to know that you’re the only person who’s ever seen this. Are you ready?” Viktor smiled as he reached for a concealed button on the wall and pressed it.
Waverly’s jaw dropped open as the walls slid down into the floor, revealing the rare paintings, hung on an identical wall behind the façade.
“What is this?” Her voice hushed to a whisper, her pulse racing. “This can’t be.” Frozen, she looked to the artwork and back to Viktor. “May I?”
“Of course.” He gestured to the wall.
Waverly’s heart sped in excitement as she approached the paintings. A singular spotlight shone on each individual piece. She studied the familiar artwork and placed her hand over her mouth in astonishment.
“What? How did you get this? It can’t be. This piece was destroyed in a fire.” Confusion threaded through her as she inspected the painting. “Ghirlandaio. Virgin and Child in Glory with Saints John the Evangelist, Francis, Jerome, and John the Baptist.”
“The one and only. I knew you’d like it,” he told her.
“But it was reported as destroyed in the Flakturm Friedrichshain fire,” Waverly replied. “I can’t believe this.”
“One of the greatest losses of art,” he agreed. “Good thing it’s still here.”
“But how?” She studied the piece, her mind racing. The realization hit her, and she turned to Viktor. “You were there.”
“I don’t know who started the fire but yes. I was in the vicinity when I saw the fire. As you can imagine, vampires, like humans, don’t do well with fire so I’m afraid I could only pop in and out. The fire was so intense that I literally was only there for a few seconds. I reached out and touched a painting and this is what I brought home with me.”
“Why doesn’t anyone know about this?” she asked him, wearing an expression of awe.
“The world has many secrets, pet. Whether it be a painting collecting dust in someone’s attic, or a piece that’s been stolen. Or even ones that are reportedly destroyed…there are great treasures that will never be seen by all.”
“But it’s exquisite. It should be shared,” she protested.
“Perhaps, but I’m afraid it’s not possible. There are vested interests who would love to see it stolen or destroyed. This one piece must be protected. Fret not, the Vatican is aware of its location.”
“I’m sorry, what? Did you just say the Vatican?”
“It shouldn’t shock you. The hand of God has been instrumental in the safekeeping of texts and art for centuries. Secrets.” Viktor brought his hand upward, holding a finger to his smiling lips.
“This is…” Waverly scanned the room, taking in the sight of nearly fifty pieces of artwork, “it’s incredible.”
“I only collect it,” he explained.