Forever Black (Nightwalkers 2) (14 page)

Ashleigh placed her hands neatly in her lap and glanced over
at the Count. Her shoulders hunched as she sighed. She frowned.

"Five men," the Count answered, his eyes settling
on Neal's.

"It says four, your grace." Neal chuckled as he
waved the card a few times casually.

"Vincent
Halburg
, Newton
Albright, Harold
Malard
, Joseph Carlson and Mark
Sands."

"Thirty points to the Count," Neal grinned.

"The Count wins this round," The scorekeeper
announced.

Some of the people at the table got up, and others stayed to
play another game. The Count stood and held his hand out to Ashleigh. "Can
we speak?"

"Sure." She looped her arm in his. "So…"
Ashleigh wore a sly expression, her small fang capturing her bottom lip. He
smiled as he gazed forward, his slow, smooth gait not as bouncy as hers.
"About what you said before." She glanced down nervously, her words
quick as she spoke softly, "It doesn’t hurt or anything?"

"No." He led her to a couch and sat down. She
didn't sit. Instead, she stood in front of him, a childish fear on her face.
"Sit." He motioned toward the spot next to him, and she obeyed.

The Count leaned close to her. His hand gently moved her
hair away from her neck. His eyes were glued on her bare skin, and his arms
wrapped around her waist. He bent his head, his nose brushing against the curve
of her neck.

His breath was hot against her skin, and she could feel the
moisture inside of his mouth. The sensations made her shiver. Her mind raced as
she tried to close her eyes and block out the pain she knew was coming. When
she felt the prick of his fangs, her hands shot up to his shoulders and gripped
them tightly.

Then, it came. That rush of pure pleasure. Her whole center
went off balance. The world disappeared. Her fingers lost all their strength
and slipped down his chest. She could feel his taut lips—that slow, deliberate
kiss that sent a steady pulse to her bottom.

It was greater than any orgasm she had ever felt. Her whole
body erupted in intense shivers as his grip around her back tightened.
Everything melted away. All she wanted was to be suspended in this magical
place, this intense feeling making her feel helpless, but completely at ease.

He pulled away and held her at arm’s length, studying her
curiously. “Did that help?”

"Umm…" Licking her lips, she looked around
quickly. She was extremely embarrassed. Now that the pleasure had faded, all
she was left with was a shaky feeling. A great tingling sensation pulsed with
her every heartbeat. "A little." Her lips filled with a huge grin,
but she couldn't face him. She gazed at her firmly clasped hands and felt
incredibly tired, as if she were drunk. She couldn't focus, her mind still
reeling.

"May I inquire as to what has soured your mood?"
He sat back, his eyes glued on hers. His demeanor was calm as he licked her
blood from his lips.

"I…" She took the handkerchief the Count handed
her. She put it to her neck and let it soak up some of the blood.
"Umm…" She laughed as she tried to keep her thoughts straight.
"I just had a fight with a friend." She scooted closer to him, her
shoulders pushing against his and denting his suit jacket slightly. "A
close friend." She pressed her lips together tightly as she tried to halt
her tears, but a few fell anyway.

His arm slid behind her back, and he pulled her to him
gently. She didn't pull away from him this time. Her body melted into his as
she lay her head on his chest. It felt good here—the smell of his cologne, the
cold, comforting kiss of his silky dress shirt. Her head was fuzzy, and she
still couldn't concentrate. As if by habit, she adjusted her position and
cuddled closer to him.

"Would you like to hear a story?" He smiled as he
watched her nod, her grip around his waist tightening. His voice was soft, his
chin nestling into her soft, black curls. "A dreamer wanders in a field of
tall, blowing grasses, the soft scent of lilacs filling her nostrils."

He loved having her in his arms, that familiar shape that
was molded to fit into his arms perfectly. Though he had deep feelings for her,
which had him aching to do more than hold her, he didn't indulge them. He
simply took in her warmth.

His smooth words dripped off his lips like the sweetest
nectar. His voice was heavy and deep, but carried the weight of a butterfly's
wings. "Clouds flow slowly down a sea of blue over her head, crossing the
sky that keeps her eyes from seeing heaven. The sun casts its warm light upon
her hair, making it shine like a million threads of spun gold. Dear, sweet
dreamer says the sun, a deal I will make with thee. Love me, and I shall gift
you with wings that will take you past the clouds and to the gilded gates of
heaven."

She closed her eyes as she waited for him to continue. When
he didn't, she spoke, "Why did you stop? I want to hear the rest of the
story."

"As you wish." He laughed softly. "The
dreamer walks on, ignoring the promise of heaven from the sun. Darkness invades
the realm of light. The vicious battle pierces the clouds, their blood
spreading out into the sea of blue and slowly pushing the light from the sky. The
sky darkens. The ruler of the night floats like a sentinel in the sky. His eyes
are hidden, but always upon her.

“Dear, sweet dreamer, the moon says, a deal I will make with
thee. Love me, and I shall gift you with eternal beauty and make you Queen. The
dreamer ponders the offer, but then refuses. Again, he offers—together we will
taste the blood of the sun and murder the clouds, so you may see the heaven
that lies beyond. You will never hunger under my rays, and in the darkness, I
shall mold your every dream. Give me that to which the sun desires, love me, oh
dear dreamer."

He paused as his fingers slowly stroked the surface of her
jacket.

She waited, but he never finished. Her head rose to look at
him. "So, what did she choose?"

A wicked smile filled out his perfect lips. His emerald eyes
fell on hers as he spoke softly, "The devil, of course."

She laughed as she lay her head back down on his chest.
"You're
definitely
going in my
next book."

"I do not wish to become immortalized in such a
fashion."

"You don't wish to be a perfect prince in my
imagination?"

"Imagination is for children. What you produce as a
writer is art, a voice that opens a vein and leaves the reader lapping at the
blood that has been drawn. You are an incredible writer, Ashleigh." His
tone softened a little, "But please refrain from calling me an
emerald-eyed snake."

She closed her eyes. "I didn't call you that."

"Yes, you did."

"I didn't…" Her voice trailed, and her body became
heavy in his arms.

"I see someone's calmed down." Neal sat on the
couch next to Ashleigh, gesturing toward her with his hand.

"Her blood is soaking my jacket." The Count
chuckled softly, but his grip around her didn't lessen, even though what he
said was true.

"She seems to be adjusting better." Neal glanced
briefly at June, who sat next to him. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders
and pulled her closer.

"Her hatred of me has seemed to lessen slightly,
yes." The Count rubbed his chin against Ashleigh’s soft curls. His eyes
were distant as he frowned. "Do you think me a fool, Neal?"

"A fool, your grace?"

"For thinking my love has returned to me. What if my
queen wakes? Will she punish me for replacing her with this girl? I could not
bear that."

"Don't give up, yet. The Countess will never awaken
because she's right here. Her soul is now in this young girl, so this is the
only option you have. The woman in the tomb is just a shell. You don't have to
mourn for her anymore. There is nothing you can do to wake her."

"A shell." The Count's fingers danced lightly over
the surface of Ashleigh's skin. "A beautiful shell that holds my heart in
her icy flesh."

"Don't sound so sad, your grace. You need to move on.
This girl
is
the Countess."

"I'm trying, but this girl will not let me near her
heart."

"She will." Neal pointed to Ashleigh. "I'd
say having her in your arms means you're getting closer to getting her to
stay."

"I could tell her a million times of my loss…of my
pain…but she would never understand." His voice was soft, but there was a
hard expression etched on his handsome features. A deep anger was reflected in
his sparkling green eyes. "Of sleepless nights spent alone, my dreams
haunted by her death.

“Now, she lays in my arms like a child, ignorant and
forgetting the promises she had made. This woman whom was once mine—her every
breath used to voice her love for me—is buried like Ashleigh's desire. I want
this too greatly and fear it will never be as I wish—that she is not what I
wish."

Neal's eyes narrowed on the Count. "Do you want to
release her? After all we have done to find her?"

"No, I wish for her to love me." His arms squeezed
tighter. "Just like she has before, but I am impatient. I crave her taste
more than my own breath, and my thoughts are not as they should be. Taking her
by force or trickery will not satisfy anything but the desires that brew in my
loins. My heart desires something greater. I need her so badly."

"Just enjoy having her sleep in your arms." Neal
looked over at Ashleigh. Her long hair fell over her cheek and hid some of her
face from his view. "She's warm flesh with a beating heart. The witch was
right, and just like she has prophesied, Lady
Sallen
has come back to you. Just wait it out—soon, she'll be yours again."

"Can we have a ball, your grace?" June spoke, her
voice soft but upbeat. "She could help me plan it. It'll get her mind off
being homesick, and it'd give you a great opportunity to woo her."

"Perhaps." The Count sighed as he studied at a few
people across from him.

Chapter Eight

Ashleigh had left her phone off for the past few days. Her
urge to answer Caleb's constant calls over the past week was too much of a
temptation. She now sat in the ballroom. She was supposed to be helping June
decorate, but instead was camped out on a nearby couch, typing away on her
computer and having a texting conversation with Natalie. She wore earphones and
blocked out the rest of the world.

Making a sour face when she saw a picture of Caleb in an
online gossip story, Ashleigh couldn't resist the temptation to stare. His hair
was swept up into the perfect, mini Mohawk. He was looking at the camera,
though it was only a glance. The dark eyeliner around his eyes only intensified
their color. Studying his familiar shape, she knew that under his tee her name
was inked on his chest.

This wasn't working. Her muse was always going to be right
here, smacking her in the face every time she passed a magazine in the store,
opened her email, or saw his picture connected to a top news story. Taking a
deep breath then letting out a defeated one, she signed into her messenger and
sent him a text.

S'up
?

"Do you think we need more ribbons on the chandelier?
Ashleigh?" June waited for Ashleigh to answer but was ignored. She then
turned to the decorators instead. "Please add more ribbon to the main
chandelier."

Music starting to play as someone called Ashleigh for an
online video chat. She smiled when she saw the name “Mace.” Pushing the answer
button, she tried to wipe the happiness from her face. Her earphones allowed
her to be the only one to hear him.

"Hey." Caleb smiled nervously. He was holding his
phone awkwardly as he walked down the hallway.

"Hey." Her eyes settled on the close up image of
Caleb's face. Though it was a weird angle, she liked being able to see him.

"Working on your book?" He glanced down at his cell
a few times then quickly up at where he was going. "Aren't those my S
Series
Turbos
you got on?" He laughed when he
saw her grin. "Thief."

"I had Nathan send them. They make everything sound
amazing…even you." She giggled as she bit her lip sweetly. "I love
them." This was the first time the pair had spoken since they had gotten
into that fight, and though the first few seconds felt a little awkward, he was
the same Caleb she knew. Nothing seemed to have changed between them.

She put her hand over the earphones, the sound of Ashleigh’s
voice making June turn. June watched her for a few seconds. A slight frown
settled onto her lips when she noticed the very tender expression on Ashleigh's
face.

Caleb tried to send her a smile, but couldn't. "How
have you been?"

"Fine. They're throwing a masked ball tomorrow night.
You
wanna
crash it and come visit me? I'd love it if
you did."

"Tomorrow?" He made a sour face as he glanced back
at Kris. Kris peered over Caleb's shoulder at Ashleigh.