Amanda Ashley (14 page)

Not since he had first come here two hundred years ago had he given in to the terrible urge to destroy, but he surrendered to it now.

Like a wild thing, he stalked through the cavern. He shattered the lamp, grabbed the books from the shelf and hurled them into the fire, toppled the bookcase to the floor, ripped the sofa to shreds.

Going into the kitchen, he threw the dishes against the walls, smashed the kitchen table, broke the chairs apart as if they were made of kindling rather than solid wood.

Breathing hard, he moved down the hallway to the bedroom and flung open the door. He would destroy the bed and everything else she had touched, and her memory with it.

A long wail of pain rose in his throat as her scent filled his nostrils. Flinging himself down on the bed, he closed his eyes, and the fragrance that was Kara rose all around him, feminine, clean, provocative.

She was gone, and he would never see her again.

With a choked cry, he wrapped himself in the blanket she had used, his rage swallowed up by an overwhelming sense of grief and loss.

“Kara,” he murmured brokenly. “Be well.”

Kara drove down the mountain like a maniac, her anxiety to get away from him, from what he was, making her reckless.

Alex. He wasn't a man at all, but a creature from a distant planet.

He had lived on earth for two hundred years. Shades of
Highlander,
she mused ruefully. Alexander was a real-life immortal, and she had fallen in love with him.

For the first time in her life, she had fallen head over heels in love with a man who wasn't a man at all. It would have been funny if it wasn't so tragic.

She hit the brake when she reached the bottom of the mountain, shrieked as the car fish-tailed, then shuddered to a stop. Her hand was shaking as she turned off the ignition.

She was away from him, she thought bleakly.
Now what? When she'd left him, she had every intention of getting in touch with Dale Barrett and telling him everything. Even if he didn't believe her immediately, she was certain he was the type of man who would check it out anyway. All she had to do was find a phone, put Barrett on another trail, and maybe her own life would return to normal.

All she had to do was find a telephone.

There was a gas station about ten miles down the road. No doubt she'd find a phone booth there.

With a sigh, she folded her arms over the steering wheel, rested her forehead on her arms, and cried. In spite of what she'd said to Alex, she knew she wouldn't betray him to Barrett. In every movie she had ever seen—
Starman
and
E.T
quickly came to mind—aliens had been badly treated by their human captors. She had no doubt that Alex would find himself locked in a laboratory somewhere, the victim of numerous experiments. He would not go peacefully, of that she was certain. What if he killed someone when they tried to capture him? What if someone killed him?

She couldn't turn him in, and she couldn't go home, not until she knew it was safe. So, she thought again, what was she going to do?

Lifting her head, she stared into the darkness. It was raining again, as if the heavens and all the angels shared her sorrow.

Resolutely, she turned the key in the ignition. She couldn't just sit here all night. She had to do something. Find a motel. Get some rest. That was what she needed, she thought, a good night's sleep. Maybe then she'd be able to think more clearly.

She checked into the first motel she came to, carefully signing a phony name.

In her room, she locked the door, then dragged a chair in front of it as an added safety precaution.

She washed her face, undressed, and slipped into bed.

The sheets were cold, as cold as the ache in her heart.

She wouldn't think of him. She didn't want to think of him.

She could think of nothing else. Only Alex. The sound of his voice. The touch of his hand in her hair, his lips on hers. The way he looked at her, as if she were the finest, most precious thing he had ever seen.

It wasn't fair! She wanted a home and a family. She didn't even know if it was possible for a human and an alien to conceive a child . . . A harsh laugh escaped her lips. What was she thinking? There was no way for them to have a life together, no way at all.

Pulling the covers over her head, she cried herself to sleep.

It was late afternoon when she woke. For a time, she stared up at the ceiling, wondering what she should do.

Forcing herself to get up, she fished through one of the shopping bags, then went into the bathroom and brushed her teeth. She flipped on the TV while she combed her hair, then gasped as she saw her face on the screen.

“. . . Crawford, who left a medical facility in Grenvale several days ago. Crawford has been infected with a rare blood disease that is virulent and highly contagious. Anyone with information on Crawford's whereabouts should contact . . .”

Kara switched off the TV. She needed to call home, to assure Nana and Gail that she was all right. She reached for the phone, her finger poised over the keypad. What if Barrett was behind this? What if he had found a way to tap the phone . . .

Think, Kara.
She had to get in touch with Nana. With a smile of satisfaction, she dialed Mrs. Zimmermann's number. Elsie Zimmermann had been their neighbor for the last ten years. She was a feisty elderly woman who was renowned for her oatmeal cookies and minding her own business.

“Hello?”

“Mrs. Zimmermann, this is Kara.”

“Kara! Where are you, child? Your grandmother is frantic with worry.”

“I know. Would you do something for me? Would you go get Gail for me? Don't tell her why, just get her over to your house. And don't say anything to Nana.”

“But she'll want to know—”

“I'll tell her everything as soon as I can. Please, Mrs. Zimmermann, this is urgent.”

“All right, Kara. Hang on.”

A few minutes later, Gail's voice came over the wire.

“Kara? Kara, where are you? A doctor was here looking for you. He said you ran away from the hospital, and your life is in danger. I don't remember his name.”

“Dale Barrett?”

“Yeah, that was it.”

“Don't trust him, Gail, and don't believe anything he says. I'm fine. How are you? How's Nana?”

“We're okay. Don't worry. We saw your picture on TV.”

“Yeah, me, too. When was Barrett there?”

“He comes by every day, asking questions. Where are you, Kara? When are you coming home?”

“I don't know.” She couldn't go home, not now, not if Barrett was sniffing around. “Listen, Gail, don't tell anyone I called.”

“But—”

“Promise me, Gail. You can't tell anyone. Not even Nana.”

“She's worried, Kara.”

“I know. I'll call you again when I get a chance.”

“Okay.”

“I love you, sis.”

“I love you, too.”

“Let me talk to Mrs. Zimmermann. And remember, you can't tell anyone I called.”

“All right. Bye.”

Moments later, Mrs. Zimmermann was on the phone again. “Kara?”

“Yes. I know this must seem strange, but you can't tell anyone I called. Not even Nana.”

“I don't like the sound of this, Kara.”

“I don't like it, either, but you've got to believe me when I say this is a matter of life and death. I don't want Nana or Gail to be in danger because of me.”

“Are you in some kind of trouble, Kara?”

“Not the way you mean. I've got to go now, Mrs. Zimmermann. Please keep an eye on Gail and Nana for me.”

“I will, child. God bless you.”

“Thank you.”

Kara stared at the phone after she replaced the receiver in the cradle. She had hoped Barrett would give up, but he seemed to have the tenacity of a bulldog. So, where did that leave her? She hated to
think what would happen if Barrett got hold of her again. No doubt he would lock her away where she'd never be found, and then he would start selling her blood to the highest bidder. And people with terminal diseases would pay for it, she thought. Oh, yes, they would pay any amount the good doctor asked if they thought it would cure them. And maybe it would. Did she have the right to refuse to help the sick, the dying, if it was within her power to do so? But what about her rights? She would never have a life of her own again.

A life of her own . . . She stared into the mirror over the dresser. Alex had given her his blood. It had saved her life. Would it also extend her life? Would she become sensitive to the sun? She tried to imagine what it would be like to live for two hundred years, to have to spend the rest of her life avoiding the sun, but it was beyond her comprehension.

She pressed her hands to her temples. Her head was throbbing, her eyes felt red and raw, and there was a terrible pain in the region of her heart.

She missed Alex. Just thinking of him stilled the throbbing in her head. She remembered asking him how he'd lit the fire, asking him what other tricks he could do. And his cryptic response,
More than you want to know.

In the space between one heartbeat and another, she knew she had to go back. She would be safe with Alex. But it was more than that. Her life seemed empty without him, dull and meaningless, as though someone had leeched all the joy, all the zest, out of living.

Moving quickly, she took a shower, put on a pair of clean slacks and a sweater, then went to the res
taurant across the street, where she ordered a turkey sandwich and a malt to go. She had found a pair of sunglasses in her purse, and she kept them on, hoping no one would recognize her.

Minutes later, she was back in the car. She drove to a shady place to eat, hardly tasting a bite. All she could think of was seeing Alex again. The fact that he was an alien no longer seemed as important, or as frightening, as it had the night before. And yet . . .

She stared out the window. Except for that peculiar ridge of flesh on his back, Alex looked like any other man, but what if they were incompatible sexually? Maybe the people of his planet didn't procreate in the same manner as those of earth.

She frowned, then shook the thought from her mind. She would worry about that later. For now, she wanted, needed, to see him.

She brushed the crumbs from her lap, wiped her mouth, then drove to the gas station to fill the tank. And then, her heart pounding with anticipation at seeing Alex again, she turned the car toward Eagle Flats.

He rose at dusk to prowl through the wreckage of the cavern. He hoped Kara had the good sense not to go home. He knew she would be unable to resist calling her grandmother, but a phone call should be harmless enough, if she kept it short and made it from a pay phone.

He swore an ancient oath. It was no longer any of his concern what she did or where she went. Tomorrow he would leave here. He would return to Moulton Bay and collect his things, and then he'd leave town. Leave the country. Perhaps he'd go
back to Australia. He'd always planned to go back some day. Now seemed like the perfect time. He had no ties here, nothing to keep him. He could write anywhere.

He kicked aside the wreckage that had once been the kitchen table, overcome by the ancient urge to hunt in the old way, to kill his prey with his bare hands, to taste its sweet, warm blood on his tongue.

The men of ErAdona had overcome their bloodthirsty nature centuries ago, but he was a throwback to an older, more violent time. It was a part of him he loathed, a part of him that lay dormant, all but forgotten, until rage unleashed the beast within him, and it woke, ravenous and all but uncontrollable. It was the reason he felt such an affinity for the vampires he wrote about. He knew what blood lust was, what it was like to be caught in the clutches of a hunger that was both repugnant and pleasurable.

Feeling confined by the cavern's walls, he went out into the night. Stripping off his clothing, he lifted his face to the moon, absorbing the pale light into himself, hoping it would calm him, but the beast within would not be pacified.

With a growl, he started to run up the mountainside, surrendering to the anger and the frustration surging through him.

Soundlessly, effortlessly, he ran through the darkness, blending with the shadows, his heart and soul at one with the other predators of the night.

Kara switched off the ignition, ran a hand over her hair, and took a deep breath, wishing she knew what she was going to say to Alexander when she saw him again.

Gathering her packages and her purse, she slid out of the car, locked the door, and made her way to the cavern's entrance.

She placed her hand over the odd-shaped striation in the rock face, felt her heart beat with excitement as, with a dull rumble, the portal slid open.

“Alex?” Calling his name, she stepped inside. The rock slid back into place automatically; a light came on as soon as the door closed behind her.

“Alex?” Dropping her packages inside the doorway, she walked down the narrow corridor, gasping when she came to the living room. Furniture, tables, bookcases, all had been destroyed. The kitchen was also a shambles.

She made her way down the corridor to the bedroom. Relief whooshed out of her lungs in a sigh. This room, at least, had not been demolished.

She stepped into the room and looked around, wondering what had caused the destruction in the other rooms. Where was Alex? Had Barrett found him after all?

A noise from the other room made the hair rise along the back of her neck. And then she heard footsteps walking down the corridor.

Mouth dry, palms damp with fear, she turned toward the door.

Alex came to an abrupt halt when he saw Kara standing in the bedroom. He had caught her scent as soon as he entered the cavern but, trapped in his own misery, he had ignored it, thinking it to be nothing more than a cruel reminder that she had been there and gone.

“Kara!”