SHADOWLOVE--STALKERS (28 page)

All thoughts, questions, answers swirled in her head and got lost in one another as she gave herself over to him.

Nothing in her life had prepared her for what she had felt, what she was feeling. She had always relied on herself—independent to an extreme—but when he had whispered to her that
she belonged
to him, instead of taking offense, she welcomed the words, relished them, melted to the sound, became a part of him in that moment of revelation, and felt that special moment when she knew and understood that he reciprocated her feelings.

However, she had a problem…a physical problem.

She was a vamp—half vamp, yes, but a vamp all the same. Their lovemaking had done something to her, depleted her in some way, and she needed to refurbish herself, recoup her energy.

There was only one way to do that—
with blood…

~ Eighteen ~

PENTIM, CLOTHED IN LAYERS of Armani dark silks, stood in the middle of what had been Shawna’s loft in New York City. Outside the sound and lights of Manhattan were at full beat.

He closed his eyes and blotted away the distractions from his head. He needed to listen to something else altogether.

He combined his heightened awareness into one sensory machine as he swept the empty rooms of Shawna’s loft with a lift and a slow wave of his white hand. His slender fingers with the long, sharp, black nails cut through the atmosphere. He was searching for more than her scent. He wanted to find—
ah
, he thought,
there it is
—the sweet residue she had left behind.

He discovered that his daughter, like her mother, was magical. It was probably what had drawn him to Rachel in the first place. It came to him that Shawna was a white and powerful witch, and this excited him.

He could feel her mana in the atmosphere.
She had danced and sung in these rooms
! He could almost hear her voice, and the residue of her essence that clung to the walls frenzied him; his need to find her overwhelmed him.

It wouldn’t be long now before they discovered what new alias she carried and where she had gone. He smiled to himself at the notion that she would soon be his, as she rightfully was meant to be.

All at once he sniffed the air with distaste.
Pig’s blood!

She drank pig’s blood here in this apartment! How could she lower herself…? She must be brought to know who she was, what she needed to be, and how she must honor his name.

Pig’s blood
, indeed—but he would put a stop to that. He would correct such behavior, born no doubt from maudlin sentiments. His daughter must have no such qualms. He would teach her to rule beside him, be the eyes he needed at his back. He would teach her to seduce her target, to savor it, to drink richly from it, and to kill without regret or remorse. They would rule, side by side, invincible…

“Pentim…” A tall, bald, and muscular man in nondescript, casual dark clothes spoke quietly for attention.

Pentim regarded his first lieutenant, WB. The huge vamp had proven invaluable to him, but as of late he sensed impatience in the strong vampire’s tone. “What is it, WB?” He put up his chin and displayed the irritation he felt at having his thoughts interrupted. He would not tolerate any dissent.

WB took offense, and spoke up, apparently unafraid. “I have followed you, helped you decimate the clans, make ours the most powerful clan, but I fear, my Prince, that you are being…sidetracked.”

Pentim controlled his temper. This was not the first time WB had objected to the new mission. He needed him still, however, and therefore allowed him some license. “We will get back on course once my daughter is found.”

“We can do both. Send me with my team…and we will take care of Mollinure. He has turned more than his share and should be stopped…”

“We may not. You will recall we had a visit from Dracula. He was not pleased. We will give it time, and in that time, we will find my daughter.”

“She is nothing but a bitch to run and hide from her father,” WB snapped.

“Enough! You will not speak of my blood in such a fashion.” Pentim scanned his face with sudden interest, but WB did not look away as all his other clan members would have done. He had to wonder if WB had betrayal in mind.

“When do we go forward with our plans?” WB persisted.

“Ah…everything depends on timing. We must be patient and wait for the right moment to split our forces and take over different fronts. We will find my daughter and strengthen what we already enjoy. That is our first goal.”

WB looked as though he had wanted to say more, but he held his tongue. Instead he crooked his neck with an impatient glance toward Clara. “My Prince…she looks a bit unstable.”

Pentim considered Clara, who had been aimlessly walking around the loft muttering to herself. She had gone to stand by one of the large windows overlooking the busy nightlife of the city.

Pentim watched her. She had changed the shade of her hair once again. She still wore it spiked, but it was a yellow, streaked with flaming red. She was as always dressed in Gothic clothes. She put her hands on the window and licked her lips. He smiled to himself. He always found the volatile Clara amusing.

“Clara, come here.”

She skipped over to him much like a child and took his hand to her pale cheek. “We are in New York City. There are meals down there…so many meals…”

“They won’t go away.”

“Yes, but, Pentim…I am hungry now, and the streets are full of food.” She grinned impishly up at him and purred like a cat looking for a treat.

He was feeling kindly towards her. She had gotten him this far, she had found him the apartment where his daughter had been staying, and his daughter’s scent was everywhere and intoxicatingly seductive. “Where has she gone, Clara?”

“I don’t know that yet, Prince, but I have friends working on it. Let’s go eat, and then I’ll go find them and see if they have anything new to tell me.”

“Very well, but soon, Clara. I need to find her soon.”

* * *

Shawna snuggled back against Chad’s hard body. Curled up on her side and smiling to herself, she wiggled her butt into him as they lay there in the bed. He gave her a rump a slow, lingering rub as his fingers ran along her skin and he whispered, “You feel so good, love…your skin is smoother than silk.”

She smiled and felt him suddenly hold onto her tightly, possessively, passionately. She could feel his power, his aura of magic, and something more—a protective shield he seemed to be slipping around her.

She squirmed and managed to turn around in his arms, throw her own over his large shoulders as she laid her head against his chest.

He kissed her forehead and rested his chin on her head. She moved, tilted her head back to look up and into his green eyes. What she saw in their recesses made her melt back into him. All other needs, doubts, questions were chased away by the all-encompassing rightness of what they were together.

She moved her hand down his shoulder, down to his tattooed chest. She traced the runes of black, green, and red that made the intricate patterns. Her finger slid further down to his belly, down even more…

“Ye are insatiable, Shawna lass,” he murmured sweetly.

She giggled low in her throat and whispered his name. She wanted him, wanted to stay where she was in his arms, but…she knew she was in desperate trouble—or would be very soon. His name escaped her lips. “Chad…”

He must have heard something in the quality of her tone, because all at once he tensed and frowned. “What is it, love?”

“I…I don’t know how to say this, but…I…I have to get to Inverness.” There. It was out; she had almost said it.
She needed blood
. What would he think—what would he feel when confronted with the reality of it all? He had already seen her drink blood in her cottage after she had been badly sliced and wounded by the entity. He had not displayed any reaction…but now…?

It clicked in his brain, and she saw it, the dawning. Next his low whistle, and then she heard his sigh. It sounded grim to her.

“I am a brute,” he said, closing his eyes first and then taking her chin. “Of course you do. I had forgotten how much you were depleted the other day from your wounds.”

She noticed that when he became more efficiently businesslike and formal his brogue lost its thickness. “Yes…I have nothing left at home.” She still could not allow him to connect with her eyes.

He held her face in place and gave it a slight squeeze. “Look at me, lass…” He waited.

She opened her eyes, and when she looked into his fully, he smiled. His entire face lit up, and she wanted to kiss him all over. “Aye, then, they’ll be no shame between us. They’ll be no secrets—and ’tis time that I come clean with you.”

She snuggled into him. He wasn’t disgusted with her. A huge sigh of relief escaped her lips as he stroked her long hair. She saw him holding the blonde strands. She watched as he sniffed the locks with relish and whispered her name, and then it dawned on her. He had said it was time to come clean with her. She pushed away from him and eyed him questioningly.

“You said it was time for you to come clean. About what? What have you done, Chad MacFare?”

He laughed and tried to pull her back into his arms. It took a hefty amount of will power, but she kept him off with one outstretched arm as she sat up straight in the bed and hugged the quilt around herself.

“Och, lass, I don’t know where to start, so I’ll just dive in—shall I?”

“Dive…
now.
”

“Today we’ll go into Inverness, and we’ll get you what you need, but you’ll find ye won’t be needing as much of it—if any, after tonight. I mean to wean you off it forever.”

Her hand fluttered in front of her face. What was he saying? She had tried everything she knew to stop herself from needing blood. Didn’t he know that? How could he know her, if he didn’t know that? She looked away from him. She felt his fingers take her face gently and turn her back towards him. “Och, lass…hear me out.”

“Hear you out? What does that mean—you’ll wean me off the blood…? Don’t you think I would have accomplished that if I could have?”

“Aye, I think you can do anything, love—you have it in you. I’ve seen it. There are times when I can’t look away from the courage that lights up in your brilliant silver eyes. There are times when I want to lower my head to you because of the strength inside of you…” His hands were on her shoulders, pulling her into his arms, and she was engulfed by the man as he whispered, “Shawna…there is an innate goodness emanating from you that humbles me.” He held her away from his embrace suddenly, and she saw that he was scanning her for a reaction.

She felt herself go red, and he laughed and hugged her to him again before he started once more. “Shawna lass…can’t you see what I think of you? Don’t you know that I know what has kept you strong and in control? Don’t you know that I know what it took to fight off the bloodlust?” He sighed gustily. “That isn’t what I am talking about.” He shook his head and then said on a hushed note, “There is something we MacFares discovered well over two hundred years ago…and ’tis time I introduced you to it.”

“What?”

“
The Blood Orchard
.”

“Explain,” she demanded, picking up on his excitement.

He laughed. “Give a man a chance, will ye then.”

“The Blood Orchard—
if you please
?”

“You see, we only know who we are and what our situation is—the fact that we are immortals—because of the visions my grandmother has had over the centuries. She didn’t know what she was—had no one to explain it all.” He frowned as though contemplating what his grandmother had endured. “We only know about the Blood Orchard because of a vision m’grandmother experienced right before I was born.” He stopped and studied her face before offering, “Which…was just over two hundred years ago.”

“Wait—you are two hundred years old?” she screeched.

“A bit more.” He grinned and chucked her under the chin.
“Immortal
—remember?”

“Yes…but…”

“M’grandmother and father are over a thousand years old.”

Shawna’s mouth dropped open, her eyes widened, and speech eluded her. It dawned on her…that dizziness she had experienced in their presence. They had used illusion to age themselves, but her magic had tried to see through it.

He brushed his finger over her bottom lip and dropped a sweet kiss there. “Do ye want me to go on…?”

She found her voice. “You better.”

“Right, then…” There was a devilish glint in his green eyes. “M’granny saw it in a vision while m’mother was nearly seven months pregnant.” He shook his head. “Now we have the damn things growing like wildfire in all our residence hothouses.” His green eyes glittered warmly. “Brea believes in covering all bases.” He grew suddenly serious. “Once a month at the full moon, the Blood Orchard releases a nutrient that does any number of things. One, she had hoped, was to give immortality to a chosen human—like m’mother. The other thing it does is curb, and then after time eliminate, the bloodlust.”