Amanda Ashley (28 page)

Rising from the table, he thanked her for the meal, then crawled into the sleeping bag and closed his eyes. Leaving her would not be easy for either of them. She might miss him for a time. She might even hate him. But someday, when she had a husband and children and a normal life, she would thank him.

He had shut her out, and she didn't know why. Lying in her sleeping bag that night, Kara ran over the events of the day in her mind, wondering what she had said, what she had done, to make him angry. She had tried several times to make him talk to her, to tell her what was wrong, but he had replied, politely, that nothing was wrong, he was only tired.

He was lying.

She had checked his injuries, amazed to see that the wounds, so bloody and ugly the night before, had nearly healed.

She wanted him to take her in his arms, needed him to hold her, to assure her that everything would turn out for the best.

She hesitated a few moments more, and then she slid out of the sleeping bag and went to gaze out
the window at the man who was causing her heart such pain.

He was standing near the lake's edge, his head thrown back, his arms spread wide, as he gazed up at the night sky. The moon's pale light danced across the face of the still water and bathed Alex in a shimmering silver haze.

He looked so beautiful, and so alone, it made her heart ache. Why wouldn't he confide in her? Didn't he know how deeply his silence was hurting her?

An owl hooted softly in the distance. Alex had told her that some tribes of Indians believed that the call of an owl near a lodge meant impending death. The sound drew his attention and as he turned toward it; Kara saw his face, saw the pain and loneliness in his expression.

Needing to touch him, to comfort him, needing his comfort in return, she ran out of the cabin, heedless of the fact that she wasn't dressed.

“Alex, I'm sorry.” She threw her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder. “Please forgive me.”

Instinctively, his arms closed around her. “Forgive you?” Alex asked, startled by her apology. “What have you done?”

“I don't know.” Her words were muffled against his shoulder. “Why have you shut me out? I feel so alone.”

“Kara . . .
natayah
. . .” He stroked her back, his hands restless, his desire stirring at her nearness, at the silkiness of her flesh pressing so intimately against his. “Kara . . .”

“Don't send me away,” she begged. “Don't shut me out.”

Rising on tiptoe, she pressed her body against
his. “I love you, Alex.” She tilted her head back so she could see his face, and then she kissed him deeply, fervently.

And he was lost. Lost in the magic of her touch, the soul-deep love he had seen in her eyes.

With a helpless cry of surrender, he cradled her in his arms, carrying her gently to the ground, covering her face, her neck, her breasts, with hungry kisses. His hands slid over her slender frame. Her skin was smooth, silky, vibrant beneath his fingertips. She arched against him, low moans of pleasure rising in her throat, encouraging him, inflaming him, until he had no thought save to possess her, to show her with his hands and his lips that he loved her, only her, now and forever.

Her thighs parted eagerly to receive him, and then he was a part of her—heart and soul and mind and body. Every thought, every breath, was hers.

Kara held him close, closer, until even the moonlight couldn't slip between them. Her fingers stroked the ridged flesh of his back, her fingernails following the faint pattern along his spine. She stroked him, she scratched him, and stroked him again. She cradled him within the deepest part of her, her heart pounding to the same frantic rhythm as his. She watched his face, entranced by the sheer beauty of him, by the passion blazing in his eyes.

She sobbed his name as waves of ecstacy shuddered through her, heard his answering cry as his life force filled her with warm liquid heat.

Locked together, they tumbled slowly back to earth.

Alex loosed a deep sigh. Never had he experienced anything so wonderful, not even with AnnaMara. Though he had loved his wife, he had
not needed her as desperately as he needed Kara. And yet, mixed with the sense of wonder was a horrible sense of guilt.

What if Kara got pregnant? Barrett had told him this was the perfect time to impregnate her. The thought was staggering. As much as he yearned for a child born of their love, he was afraid to face the possibility, didn't want to consider the consequences that might result from the mating of ErAdonian and earthling.

Kara made a soft sound in her throat, and he realized he was probably suffocating her with his weight. Rolling to the side, he carried her with him, holding her in his arms. He felt a sudden need to put distance between them, to be alone with his thoughts, but he knew she would not understand. She would be hurt, thinking that he was shutting her out again. He couldn't bear the thought of causing her more pain, and so he held her close, one hand stroking her hair, until her breathing grew even and shallow and he knew she was asleep.

“Forgive me,
natayah,
” he murmured.

He stared up at the sky, torn by conflicting emotions. He should never have gotten involved in her life . . . he should never have touched her . . . she was the best thing that had happened to him in two hundred years . . . she might be pregnant even now . . . he had ruined her life . . . he wanted her . . . he needed her.

He loved her.

He didn't want to love her, or need her, or want her.

He never should have touched her.

He wanted her again. Even now his blood was warming, thickening with desire . . . She stirred in
his arms, murmured his name, and he held her tighter, knowing he would never be happy without her at his side, knowing that, sooner or later, he would have to let her go. No matter how earth-like he appeared, he was ErAdonian. A dog and a cat might fall in love, he mused bleakly, but they were two different creatures, never meant to share more than friendship.

They stayed at the cabin until the food ran out. During those three days, Alex closed his mind to everything but making Kara happy. They walked along the lake at night, took long moonlight swims, slept late in the morning. He had vowed not to make love to her again, but each night she teased him with her kisses and her touch, tempting him beyond his ability to resist. Daily, he prayed for forgiveness, prayed she would not get pregnant, prayed for the strength to leave her when the time came.

He memorized every line of her face, every curve of her slender body, the sound of her laughter, the husky timbre of her voice when she was in the throes of passion, the color of her eyes, the texture of her hair, the taste of her skin against his tongue. He told her he loved her in every way he could, and hoped she would still believe it was true when he had to let her go.

Kara stared around the small cabin. She hated to leave the place. Even though it was small and cramped and equipped with only the barest of necessities, it had been a perfect place for a honeymoon.

She glanced at Alex. He stood near the door, a
towel wrapped around his waist.

“You didn't have to get all dressed up on my account,” Kara remarked with a grin.

“Very amusing. Let's go.”

Still grinning, she followed him outside, waited while he performed a little male magic under the dash to start the engine.

“You want to drive?” she asked.

“No, you go ahead.” He slid into the passenger seat and sat back, his arms folded over his chest.

Settling herself behind the wheel, Kara switched on the headlights. “Which way?”

“Turn left when you reach the road.”

“You know where we are?”

“More or less.” Last night, he had determined their location by the position of the stars. If his calculations were correct, they were about seventy miles from Moulton Bay.

Kara glanced at him as she drove. His wounds had healed, leaving no trace. She had seen it, yet it was still hard to believe that Alex had been shot, twice, and healed completely in three days. For the first time, she could understand Barrett's motives, even if she found them reprehensible. And yet, she couldn't help thinking of all the good Alex could do, the people he could help, the lives he could save.

He was reading her mind again. She knew it the moment he spoke.

“How would I decide which lives to save, Kara?” he asked quietly. “I can only give so much blood. Do I sell it to the rich? Give it to the poor? How do I decide which life has more worth? A mother of three? A father of four? A child? A grandmother? There are millions of people, Kara, and I'm only one man. I'm not the Almighty. I don't want to hold
the power of life and death in my hands. I don't want to make those kinds of decisions.”

He hadn't mentioned his own life, his own needs, but she knew he would never have any kind of private life if people knew the miraculous power of his blood. Everyone would want a piece of him—the public, the press, scientists, doctors, preachers and talk shows. He'd never be able to go back to Moulton Bay, never have the time or the privacy to write another book. Some might think it selfish, his refusal to help, and if he was a mere human, she might think so, too. But he was an alien, and she knew that he would be hounded the rest of his life if people found out who he was, what he was. And that, she thought ruefully, could be a long, long time. Not only that, but his freedom would be forever lost. He would spend the rest of his life in a cage, being examined, questioned, analyzed.

Selfishly, she realized that they would never have a life together if the world discovered his identity. And she wanted a future with Alex more than anything she had ever wanted in her life.

Right or wrong, selfish or not, she intended to have it.

They were driving on fumes and luck by the time they reached Moulton Bay. The clock on the dash put the time at nine-thirty.

She'd no sooner parked the truck in the garage than the engine sputtered and died. Opening the door, she slid from behind the wheel and followed Alex into the house.

Alex moved unerringly through the darkness until he heard her stumble. Cursing his thoughtlessness, he switched on a light.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Fine.” Lips compressed, she rubbed her knee where she'd hit it against a table. “Want to kiss it and make it better?”

Her words were light, teasing, but he saw the hope in her eyes, heard the yearning in her voice.

With an effort, he hardened his heart against her. “I need a shower,” he said. “I'll wait if you want to go first.”

“No, you go ahead.”

With a curt nod, he went up the stairs. Moments later, she heard the sound of water running.

For a moment, she thought of joining him, and then, with a sigh, she went into the kitchen. In his present mood, he had probably locked the door.

She fixed herself a cup of strong black coffee, sipped it slowly as she wondered how they'd locate Gail and Nana. Maybe one of the neighbors would know where they'd gone. And what about Barrett? Just thinking of him caused her to shiver with revulsion.

After rinsing the cup and putting it in the sink, she went through the house, making sure all the doors and windows were locked, wondering if it had been smart to come back here. It wouldn't take much effort for Barrett to find out where Alex lived.

She was wandering through the den when she felt Alexander's presence behind her. Slowly, she turned to face him. He was wearing a pair of faded Levi's and a black sweater. His feet were bare, his hair was still damp. He looked beautiful and sexy. And distant.

“Your turn,” he said tonelessly. “I'll see you in the morning.”

With a nod, she left the room and went upstairs.
She didn't know what was bothering him, but she intended to find out. Soon.

Alex watched Kara leave the room; then he sat down at his desk and stared at the computer. After a moment, he switched it on.

Calling up the file that contained his latest manuscript, he scanned the material from page one. The manuscript was far from finished, but he felt driven to work on the conclusion to the story, despite the fact that it was out of sequence.

He thought a moment, and then began to write.

Alex sat back in his chair, his palms resting on either side of the keyboard.

He doubted there would be a happy ending for himself and Kara, but he could grant one to his vampire.

With a sigh, he began to write once again.