His Dark Embrace (17 page)
“You are.”
Laughing softly, he rained kisses over her cheeks, the tip of her nose, along her collarbone, up the side of her neck. He ran his tongue ever so lightly over her shoulder. Her skin was soft, smooth, warm. He closed his eyes, fighting the urge to taste the warm red elixir he could smell flowing just beneath the surface of her skin.
He hadn’t yet fed.
It wasn’t safe for her to be here, in his bed, in his arms. Not now.
She wriggled against him, her body undulating against his groin.
He closed his eyes and prayed for patience. Things were moving too fast. For her sake, he needed to feed before this went any further. “Skylynn ... wait.”
“No.” She kissed him, her tongue sliding over his lips, dipping inside. “I’ve waited too long already.”
“You don’t understand. It isn’t ...”
She pressed her fingertips to his lips. “Stop talking. You’re not taking advantage of me. I’m not some innocent child. I know what I’m doing. I know what I want.”
He groaned softly, unable to resist the yearning in her voice, the taste of her lips, the touch of her breasts and belly against his skin as she rubbed herself against him in blatant invitation.
With a low growl, he rose over her. There would be no turning back now.
“Kaiden ...”
He heard the sudden doubt in her voice, knew his eyes had gone red.
“Too late,” he said, his voice gruff with desire. He caught both of her hands in his, holding them over her head as his mouth ravaged hers. “Too late,” he lamented again, and with a hoarse cry of regret, he cocooned her in his embrace.
Her nearness enflamed his hunger, the touch of her satin-smooth flesh ignited his desire. He kissed her again, and yet again, his only thought to satisfy his hunger, his raging need to take everything she had to offer—her love, her life.
“Kaiden! Stop! You’re hurting me.”
Her voice, filled with soft entreaty and edged with fear, splashed over him like ice water, bringing him back to his senses.
Overcome with self-disgust, he released her immediately. When he started to rise, she wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. “Don’t go.”
“Sky, I don’t want to hurt you.”
She gazed up at him, her eyes shiny with unshed tears.
He brushed a few damp strands of hair away from her cheek. “It’s better this way.”
Sky shook her head, knowing if he left her now, she might lose him forever. “I’m not afraid of you.”
“No?”
“No.”
“You should be.”
Cupping his face in her palms, she kissed him, pouring all her love and affection into that one lingering kiss.
He surrendered with a groan, damning himself for his weakness even as he slowly aroused her. She smelled so good, tasted so sweet, it took every bit of his considerable self-control to keep from hurting her as he claimed her for his own.
Skylynn woke slowly, reluctantly. She’d had the most amazing dream and she hated to see it end. Stretching her arms over her head, she drew in a deep breath, held it a moment before exhaling. If only reality was as wonderful as the erotic night she had imagined. In her dreams, Kaiden had made slow, sweet love to her, satisfying her every desire, fulfilling every fantasy she’d ever had. She smiled, thinking that if ordinary men knew what being a vampire could do for their libido, men all over the world would be lining up to join the ranks of the Undead.
Uttering a little sigh of contentment, she rolled onto her side and opened her eyes. The room was dark save for a fat white candle burning on the nightstand.
Two things became clear very quickly. She wasn’t in her own bed. And fantasy and reality lay sleeping beside her.
With the realization that it hadn’t been a dream came another memory. While making love, Kaiden had asked if he could taste her. Caught up in the throes of passion, she had acquiesced. Now, she lifted a hand to her neck, to the tender place just beneath her left ear. She didn’t feel any bite marks, but the skin felt warm to her touch. Just a taste, he had said, but how much was a taste?
Thinking about it, she wondered why his drinking from her no longer seemed repulsive. Had he worked some sort of vampire mind meld to make her so agreeable? As much as she’d like to think he had forced her, she knew it wasn’t true. She had wanted to please him, to ease his pain, and if she was going to be totally honest, to satisfy her own curiosity. She didn’t know what it had been like for him, but, to her great surprise, she was eager to have him bite her again. It had been a remarkably sensual experience and had, to her astonishment, only made their lovemaking even more satisfying.
Propping herself up on her elbow, she studied the face of the man she loved. Funny, she had never noticed how long and thick his lashes were before. What was it like when he slept during the day? Was it like death? She glanced at his chest, startled to see that he wasn’t breathing. Was that natural for vampires? Did he breathe during the day? He must, she thought. Surely she would have noticed if he didn’t.
Curious, she touched his shoulder. His skin felt hard and cool. It hadn’t felt that way last night. Quite the opposite, she mused with a grin. There had been so much heat between them, she was surprised the mattress hadn’t gone up in flames.
If she called his name, would he hear her?
“Kaiden?”
Nothing.
She tried again, louder. “Kaiden?”
Still nothing.
She stared at him for several moments, then shouted, “Kaiden, help!”
The covers fell away from his chest as he jackknifed into a sitting position, his movement little more than a blur.
“Skylynn?” He frowned when he realized there was no danger. “What the hell?”
“I’m sorry. I was just, you know, curious to know ...” Feeling suddenly foolish, she looked away.
Cupping her jaw in his hand, he gently forced her to look at him. “To know what?”
“If you could hear me while you’re sleeping.”
“Ah.”
“Are you mad at me?”
“Of course not. I don’t hear ordinary sounds, but after so many years, I have a keen sense of self-preservation. It’s not easy for anyone intent on destroying me to sneak up on me.”
She glanced at his chest, relieved to see that he was breathing.
He followed her gaze. There was no need to ask what she was thinking. “Anything else you want to know?” He smothered a yawn with his hand.
She shook her head.
Slowly, he sank back down on the mattress. “See you tonight,” he murmured.
His eyes closed and he went still.
Deathly still.
Skylynn chewed on her thumbnail. So, she was head-over-heels, crazy in love with a vampire. If she stayed with him, she would spend all her days alone. She ran her fingertips across his lips, over his broad chest, down his belly, then leaned forward and kissed his cheek, thinking that spending her nights in his arms would more than make up for the daylight hours she spent without him.
Chapter 19
Cassandra stood in the shadows, watching Girard as he called a young woman to him. The girl was extremely pretty and unblemished for a prostitute, leading Cassandra to believe that she hadn’t been out on the streets very long. Women who worked the streets tended to age rapidly. Their eyes took on a hard, world-weary look, their expressions were often wary. Most carried scars, souvenirs of repeated beatings by angry pimps, or from customers who liked it rough.
Girard fed quickly, erased the incident from the whore’s mind, and after giving her a pat on the rump, sent her on her way.
“You should have come to me years ago,” Cassandra remarked with a shake of her head. “You were born to be a vampire.”
Girard licked a drop of blood from his lips and then grinned at her. “I think you’re right.”
Cassandra linked an arm with his and they left the alley. To her surprise, she had become rather fond of Desmarais. He had quickly become a skilled hunter. He possessed a wicked sense of humor, and, like most vampires, he felt no remorse for what he did to survive. In her long existence, she had found that right and wrong most often depended on which side of the fence you were on.
“I’m still thirsty,” Girard confessed as they emerged from the alley and headed down the street.
Cassandra grinned wryly. “There’s just no filling you up, is there?”
He lifted one shoulder in a negligent shrug. “It tastes so good. And makes me feel invincible. I think I could feed from sundown to sunrise.”
“I think you must have done that last night,” she muttered, but there was no derision in her tone. Truth be told, she was proud of how quickly her most recent fledgling had adapted to his new lifestyle, and a little sorrowful that he no longer needed her guidance. “I’ll be leaving Vista Verde in a few days.”
“Leaving?” He looked up at her, startled by her announcement. “Why?”
“It’s a small town. Three vampires are two too many. Why don’t you come with me?”
“I don’t know.”
She came to an abrupt halt, her hand falling away from his arm. “You’re not still thinking of going after Kaiden, are you?”
“No, of course not,” he said quickly.
“Don’t lie to me, Girard.”
He stared at her, mute, damning her ability to read his thoughts, cursing the fact that he had not yet learned how to keep her out of his head, although he wasn’t sure that was possible, since she had sired him.
“You haven’t forgotten what I said, have you?”
“No,” he replied sullenly. “I haven’t forgotten.”
“I’ll know if anything happens to him. And I’ll know who to blame.”
“All right! You’ve made your point.”
With a nod, she linked her arm with his again. “Just so we understand each other,” she said. “Now, let’s go see if we can find someone to help satisfy that appetite of yours.”
Chapter 20
Nightmares, nothing but nightmares. He thrashed on the blankets that served as his bed. He had to go home. He had to get out of here. But where was here? Lonely and afraid, he wandered through the darkness, ever aware of the eyes that followed him. Red eyes that glowed in the dark. A voice in the back of his mind whispered that he must keep the secret, but he couldn’t remember what the secret was, or why he had to keep it.
Exhausted, he paused in the shadows to rest, and the eyes were there, staring at him. Into him. Through him. Unable to run any longer, tired of fighting an enemy he couldn’t see, he threw back his head and screamed and screamed ...
He came awake with a jerk, his body bathed in a cold sweat. The girl who brought him food and water twice a day sat beside him, her dark brown eyes wide.
When she saw that he was awake, she left the tent.
He stared after her. What lay outside? Who were the men in long brown robes who came and went so silently? They spoke in a harsh guttural language he didn’t understand. They were all armed with rifles and knives. Sometimes they stood on either side of him, shouting and gesturing at one another. Several times, he had been certain they were going to kill him. They had taken his clothes, his boots, his watch, everything he owned, and given him a long brown robe in return.
He lifted a hand to his left ear and snapped his fingers. Nothing. He’d definitely lost the hearing in that ear.
If only he could remember who he was, where he was.
He needed a haircut and a shave and a bath. He needed to brush his teeth.
He needed a doctor. Probably a shrink, since he had no memory of his past, no recollection of how he happened to come here, wherever the hell here was. Maybe it really was hell.
The woman returned a short time later, offering him soup, a chunk of hard bread, a tin cup of water. Because they kept his hands bound behind his back, the woman had to feed him.
It was humiliating.
He wasn’t sure, but judging by the thickness of his beard, he guessed he had been unconscious for more than a few days; whether from an injury or from being drugged, he didn’t know.
He had tried several times to speak to the woman, but she only shook her head, leaving him to wonder whether she didn’t answer because she didn’t speak English, or if it was because she had been forbidden to speak to him.
Pain throbbed in his skull and he closed his eyes.
Would this nightmare never end?
Chapter 21
Thorne came awake with the setting of the sun. As always, he awoke instantly aware of his surroundings. He was in his own bed, a bed he had shared with Skylynn only hours ago. Where was she now?
Sitting up, he opened his senses and knew within seconds that she wasn’t in the house. No doubt she had gone home. Well, he couldn’t blame her for that. There was no food in his house, nothing for her to do here while he slept.
Throwing back the covers, he padded into the bathroom and somewhat reluctantly washed Skylynn’s scent from his skin. Being a healthy male, he wondered how soon he could get her back into his bed. But not until he had fed. And that was something he needed to do as soon as he dressed. Last night, it had taken all the willpower he possessed to stop before it was too late. It was a risk he couldn’t take again.
After drying off, he pulled on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt, stepped into a pair of scuffed leather boots, and left the house.
He paused on the porch a moment, gazing at the house across the street. He took a deep breath, remembering the softness of Sky’s skin beneath his hands, the velvet touch of her hands running over him. He was mightily tempted to go see her for a few minutes, but, knowing it was for her own good, he resisted the urge.
He drove to the Scarlet Cabaret, a club located just outside the town limits. It was a favorite haunt of his when he was in a hurry and didn’t want to waste time hunting. The place was usually crawling with foolish mortals. Most came hoping to see a real vampire. A few were addicted to the vampire’s bite, which granted ordinary humans a high like no other.
Walking into the club was like slipping on a pair of comfortable old shoes. The dimly lit interior, the heady fragrance of blood of all types, the melody of so many beating hearts all blending together, the unmistakable scent of musk that filled the air, the low, sensual music coming from the jukebox.
Thorne moved through the crowd toward the bar. He was aware of the glances sent his way, the quickening of female hearts. He nodded at the bartender. Few were aware that the owner was a werewolf.
A tall redhead broke away from a group of women clustered at the end of the bar. Her smile was confident as she approached him. “I’m Miya,” she said, her voice a throaty purr.
Thorne inclined his head. “Kaiden.”
She brushed the hair away from her neck with a slender hand. “I have what you’re looking for.”
“Oh? And what might that be?”
“Blood, of course. Isn’t that why the vampires come here?”
Interesting, he thought, that she knew what he was. Few mortals were able to discern the Undead at a glance.
“Am I wrong?” she asked boldly.
“What makes you think you’re right?”
“You have the look. You know, that arrogant, just a little too perfect to be human look that we mere mortals never attain. And your eyes. They’re deeper, darker, and they see right through us. But mostly it’s the innate allure that we can’t resist.”
Interesting, Thorne thought again. “Sounds like you’ve made a thorough study of the Undead.”
“You could say that.”
“Anything else?”
She shrugged. “You smell like death.”
Damn, she
was
good. “Who the hell are you?”
was
good. “Who the hell are you?”
“I told you. I’m Miya. Van Helsing.”
“Van Helsing?” He snorted. “Are you kidding me?”
She laughed. “What do you think?”
“I think you’re lying.” She didn’t smell like a vampire, but she didn’t smell human, either. Try as he might, Kaiden couldn’t figure out what she was, or what she was up to.
“Believe what you like. Why should I lie?”
“Because if you were a true descendent of Abraham Van Helsing, you’d be hunting vampires, not offering to feed them.”
“No way.” She shuddered delicately. “Taking heads or hearts is far too messy, and not nearly as satisfying.” She moved closer, her hand sliding seductively across his chest. “So, what do you say?”
“I think I’d be a fool to trust you.”
She ran her hands down the front of her dress. “Do I look like I’m hiding a weapon anywhere?”
He laughed softly. Her clingy black dress fit like a second skin, defining every luscious curve. The only thing under that dress was Miya herself, and that, in itself, was a dangerous weapon.
“I’d be the best you ever had.”
“Honey, the best I ever had is waiting for me at home.”
“I can’t believe you’re turning me down!” she exclaimed. “No one has ever told me no.”
“I believe you.”
“But you don’t want me?” She was angry now.
He was about to tell her he was sorry when he caught the scent of a newly made vampire. He glanced over Miya’s head, muttered a vile oath when he saw Desmarais enter the club.
Being a vampire certainly agreed with the former hunter. Dressed in an expertly tailored black suit that would have done Valentino proud, Girard Desmarais strolled into the club as if he owned it. There was no sign of age in his stride or his posture. His gray hair appeared thicker, his skin, though still lined with age, looked distinguished instead of merely old.
Desmarais came to an abrupt halt when he saw Thorne.
Murmuring, “Excuse me,” Thorne moved past Miya to confront his old enemy.
“I’m not looking for any trouble in here,” Desmarais said, his voice pitched low so that only Thorne could hear.
“I trust Cassandra told you everything you need to know about your new lifestyle.”
“She told me I need to ask your permission to stay in Vista Verde. Any point in my doing that?”
“You know what they say, keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Do whatever you want, old man. But if you come after me again, I’ll destroy you.”
Desmarais snorted. “You can try.”
Thorne grinned. “If I don’t get you, Cassandra will.” He jerked his thumb in Miya’s direction. “She’s looking for a bite. Of course, I don’t know how she feels about old men or old blood.” He laughed softly. “You might be a good match at that. She claims to come from a long line of hunters.”
Before Desmarais could reply, Thorne murmured, “Have fun,” and went in search of more suitable prey.
It didn’t take long. His choice for the evening was a woman he had sought out on other occasions. Olivia was an attractive brunette in her early fifties. She had been a member of the Goth scene ever since her husband passed away fifteen years ago. Thorne liked her because she knew when to talk and when to be quiet, because she was willing to satisfy his thirst for blood as well as slake his physical desire when he was in the mood.
She smiled at his approach. No words were necessary between them. Taking her by the hand, he led her into one of the cribs in the back. The rooms were small, bare of all but the simplest furnishings, and reserved for vampire use only.
She required no foreplay, no words of seduction. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she tilted her head to one side in silent invitation.
With a sigh, Thorne sat down and drew Olivia into his embrace, his fangs extending as the scent of her blood called to him. She was sweet, her blood satisfying on many levels, yet even as he drank, he couldn’t help wishing it was Skylynn he held in his arms, Skylynn’s soft moans of pleasure that whispered through the room.
“Miss Van Helsing?”
“Yes?”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Girard said sincerely. “I’m a great fan of Abraham’s. He’s one of the reasons I got into vampire hunting.” It was partly true, Girard mused, along with the fact his father and grandfather had been slayers.
“You’re a hunter?” she asked, her expression skeptical.
“Yes.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Don’t doubt it for a minute, lady,” he said, his voice like ice. “I’m the best slayer still living.”
“Except you aren’t living.”
“How the hell would you know?”
“It’s a gift. You’re a vampire, recently turned, unless I miss my guess. And I never miss.”
Girard studied her, his eyes narrowed. “You’re a hunter, too.” It wasn’t a question.
She laughed softly. “I’m many things.”
Girard stared at her, completely baffled. Who the hell was she? What was she? He had been around a long time and he had never heard of a mortal who could discern vampire from human, nor had he ever seen a vampire hunter who possessed the voluptuous body of a siren and the angelic face of a saint.
She held out a hand in invitation. “Shall we go?”
“Go?”
She pressed her fingertips to the pulse in the hollow of her throat. “Didn’t you come here to feed?”
He nodded.
“Well? What are you waiting for?”
Girard stared at her, his mind reeling. He knew there were people who got off on having vampires feed on them, but there was something about Miya that didn’t ring true. Why was she so eager? Just what was she up to, really?
He took a step backward. He hadn’t survived as a slayer as long as he had by ignoring his instincts, and every instinct he possessed was screaming a warning.
And yet ... his fangs extended as he imagined holding that curvy young body in his arms and taking what she was so blatantly offering.
“You’ll hurt my feelings if you say no,” she said, pouting. “It’s bad enough that Kaiden turned me down.”
“He did?”
Miya nodded. “Some men are afraid of a woman who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to ask for it.” She ran one dark red nail across his cheek. “Are you afraid?”
Girard shook his head. What did he have to be afraid of? He was a vampire. Sure, he was newly turned, but he had been sired by an ancient vampire, which made him stronger than an ordinary fledgling. As for Miya, hell, she couldn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds soaking wet.
Miya smiled as she reached forward, took him by the hand, and led him toward the rooms in the back.
And even as Girard followed her, the words
like a lamb to the slaughter
played in the back of his mind.
like a lamb to the slaughter
played in the back of his mind.
Olivia straightened the collar of her dress. “Will you stay the night?”
Thorne winced inwardly. He should have seen this coming. “Olivia ...”
“Please, Kaiden.”
How could he say yes? How could he say no? She had given herself to him for years and never asked for anything in return other than to spend an occasional night in his arms. But, because of Skylynn, things were different now. True, they hadn’t made any commitments to each other, but how could he take Olivia to bed when it was Sky he loved? Doing so would be a betrayal of the worst kind.
He took a deep breath. “Olivia, listen to me,” he began, then stopped.
“What ... ?”
“Shh.” Rising, he cocked his head to the side, his brow furrowed. There it was again. A muted cry for help. Muttering, “Stay here,” he was out the door before she realized he was gone.
The muffled cry came from the last room at the end of the hall. Thorne didn’t bother with the door, but simply dissolved into mist and slipped through the crack.
Desmarais was on the other side, fighting Miya for his life.
Only, she didn’t look like Miya now. With her supernatural glamour gone, she was no longer a beautiful woman but a skeletal black-haired demon with wrinkled gray skin and blazing yellow eyes. She sat astride Desmarais’ hips, one gnarled hand circling his throat.
She hissed as Thorne materialized inside the room. “Go!” She pointed at the door with a long, skinny finger.
“Go, or I’ll kill him.”
Damn. What kind of demon was she? Not a succubus. They came to men, especially monks, by night and seduced them. This creature wasn’t looking for sex.
A mutant, then? Some kind of vampire succubus who drained men, not only of their blood, but of their life’s essence, as well. What better place for such a one to hunt than a Goth club?
“Go!” The demon’s voice was shrill now, her agitation growing.
Thorne shrugged. “Kill him if you wish. He’s no friend of mine.”
Desmarais stared at him, his eyes bulging with fear.
The demon studied Thorne curiously, and then she smiled, displaying yellowed teeth and fangs. “Come, join me.”
With a nod, Thorne moved toward the bed. With the demon watching him intently, he bent toward Desmarais’ neck, his own fangs running out at the scent of fresh blood on the hunter’s neck.
A cackle rose in the demon’s throat as she again bent her head to Desmarais’ neck.
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