Amanda Ashley (17 page)

She put her fingertips over his mouth. “Don’t be.”

He took her hand from his mouth and kissed each finger. “You’re the one who should be afraid,” he murmured, and then, unable to resist her any longer, he stood in one convulsive movement, lifted her into his arms, and carried her up the stairs.

As soon as they entered her bedroom, doubts plagued him again. “Are you sure about this, Kelly?”

She nodded. “I’m sure, Eddie.”

He smiled faintly.
Eddie.
Hearing that name on her lips made him feel more human somehow, younger, carefree. He lowered her to the bed, sat down beside her, and drew her into his arms. He felt like a teenager, nervous and unsure of himself.

Kelly wrapped her arms around him. “Kiss me, Eddie.”

Her lips were warm and sweet, like honey kissed by the sun. He held her tighter, afraid to let her go for fear she might vanish. She moaned softly, a purely feminine sound of pleasure that sang through every fiber of his being. She leaned into him, her breasts flattening against his chest as her tongue danced with his. Desire blazed within him, hotter than the fires of the unforgiving hell that surely awaited him.

He groaned, the ache of his need painful in its intensity.

His senses came alive at her touch. His nostrils filled with her scent: shampoo and toothpaste, the soap she had bathed with, the chicken she’d had for dinner, a hint of smoke from the fire in the hearth, and over all, the tantalizing scent of her blood. His tongue stroked her lips, her neck, the taste of her skin more intoxicating than wine. He listened to the sound of her breathing, the beat of her heart, the soft sounds of pleasure rising in her throat. His hands slid under her sweater. Her skin was satin-smooth beneath his fingertips, warm with life.

He swallowed a gasp of surprise when she took his hand and placed it over her breast.

“Kelly.” Her name was a groan, a plea.

Her clever hands removed his sweater; he kicked off his shoes. She shrugged out of her blouse; his hands were trembling visibly when he removed her bra.

“You are beautiful,” he murmured. “So very beautiful.”

He drew her into his arms, felt the warmth of her skin against the coolness of his own. Desire pounded through him. His fangs pricked his tongue.

He pressed her down on the mattress, one of his hands trapping both of hers over her head.

She gazed up at him, fear clouding the passion in her eyes. “Eddie?”

Fighting for control, he took a deep breath. The scent of her blood aroused his hunger. The beast roared to life, demanding to be released.

He opened his eyes, and for a moment he didn’t see Kelly; all he saw was a way to end his pain, satisfy his hunger.

“I love you, Eddie,” she whispered. “No matter what, I love you.”

He closed his eyes, his whole body trembling as he fought against the pain, the hunger. It was a battle he could not lose. Doing so meant losing Kelly, losing his one chance at finding a measure of happiness in the hell that was his life.

“Let me,” he whispered.

She turned her head to the side and closed her eyes, but not before he saw the tears trembling on her lashes.

It was the bravest thing he had ever seen anyone do.

He released her hands and slowly bent his head toward her. Murmuring her name, he ran his tongue over her skin, felt his fangs prick the tender flesh of her neck.

Her blood, the sweetest nectar in all the world. It soothed him, conquered the unnatural hunger, freed his natural senses to respond to her own need. She was reaching for him, her hips moving restlessly. “Please, Eddie . . .”

“Kelly. Kelly.”

He had taken her blood, and it had forged a link between them that could not be broken. He whispered her name over and over again as he drew her back into his arms, his hands and lips adoring her as he claimed her at last—claimed not only her body but her passion and her love. Joined flesh to flesh, her thoughts became his, so that he knew what she was feeling, what she was thinking. What she wanted. He granted her desires before she could utter them, pleasured her as no other man ever would.

He had heard that people in love considered themselves two halves of the same whole, two souls but one flesh. He knew now what that meant, knew it in ways that mere mortals would never know.

It was an experience like no other. He was in his own body and in hers, experiencing everything she felt. Every sense was heightened, sharpened. She was his now, mind and body and soul, and he would love her and protect her as long as he had the power to do so.

Madame Rosa took her last bow and left the stage. It had been a good night. The crowd had been with her; the volunteers from the audience had been willing to go along with her. She sensed their skepticism, their unbelief, yet, by the end of the show, she had made believers out of all of them. Of course, with her powers, it was easy to read their minds, to call up incidents from their past, to tell them (in a hushed whisper) the dark secrets they were hiding.

She loved the crowds, the applause. In days gone by, she had been an actress, a singer, a magician. And before that, the confidante of kings, a spy for worried queens.

Ah,
she mused, such good times they had been.

She shivered as she stepped out of the theater and felt a brush of preternatural power sweep over her.

The area reeked of the older vampire’s malevolent presence.

For a moment, Rosa stood rooted to the spot. It had been years since she felt fear, centuries since she had been in the presence of a vampire whose powers were stronger than her own. What to do, what to do? And then it was too late to do anything.

Khira materialized before her. “Rosa.”

Rosa bowed her head slightly. “Khira. I had heard you were in the city, but I didn’t believe it. What brings you here?”

“Boredom,” Khira replied. She smiled, displaying her fangs. “Such an interesting spectacle you put on this evening.” Her eyes glinted like blue ice—cold, impenetrable.

“You were there?” Rosa exclaimed, her eyes widening. “At my performance?”

“Yes. How gullible these mortals are.”

Rosa smiled in agreement, her mind racing. Khira was not one to visit or make small talk. Why was she here? The answer came with blinding clarity.

With a shake of her head, Rosa took a step backward. “There’s no need for violence between us. I’ll leave the city tomorrow night.”

Khira smiled. It was a predatory smile—cold, merciless. “There are too many vampires in this part of the world.” Her voice was flat, devoid of feeling.

Rosa stared at the other vampire, and then, dissolving into mist, she fled.

The sound of Khira’s laughter chased her down the street.

Breathless and unfulfilled, Marisa stared up at Grigori as he rose up on his knees on the bed. Why had he stopped?

“Hey.” She tugged on a lock of his hair. “Hey, why do I have the feeling all of a sudden that I’m alone?”

“What?” He looked down at her, his dark eyes shuttered, his jaw set. His long black hair framed his face.

A shiver ran down her spine as she looked into his eyes. She had known for months what he was, had seen him when the Hunger was upon him, had seen him helpless and in pain. She had seen him at his best and at his worst. Lately, caught up in the excitement of their marriage, she had put the thought of what he was from her mind. The hours they kept no longer seemed strange, and she had come to enjoy the night, to see the beauty in it. They often went walking when the city was asleep. With any other man, she would have been afraid to prowl the dark streets alone. But with Grigori, she had never been afraid. Until now.

“What is it?” she asked tremulously. “What’s wrong?”

He looked at her a moment longer, his vampire self evident in every taut line of his body, and then he blew out a deep, shuddering breath. “You might say I just felt a disturbance in the Force.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” His expression softened as he lowered his head and kissed her.

“Grigori, tell me . . .”

But he was kissing her again, his mouth hot as flame. She moaned softly, everything else forgotten as his clever hands worked their magic upon her all-too-willing flesh.

Later, after Marisa fell asleep, Grigori slipped out of bed. He gazed down at her a moment, the love he felt for her almost a physical ache. In all his years, in all his life, he had never loved another the way he loved her. She looked so beautiful lying there, her hair spread like brown silk upon the pillow. A faint smile curved her lips. She looked, he thought, like a woman who had been well and truly pleasured, and he knew a brief moment of satisfaction before he turned away from the bed.

Naked, he went out into the yard and let the darkness envelop him. Eyes closed, he let his senses expand. The wind sighed over his skin. He heard the distant roar of traffic on the freeway, the sound of a young couple arguing about money, a cat prowling among the trash cans behind a market, the scratching of a rodent digging under one of the shrubs.

Earlier, he had heard Madame Rosa’s frightened cry, felt her life force go out, and knew Khira had struck again. Khira. Powerful. Ruthless. Without remorse. Without scruples. What were they going to do about Khira?

He didn’t think he had anything to fear from her. For all her bluff and bluster, she had always been fond of him. But what of Marisa? If Khira truly wanted to hurt him, she would do it through Marisa. Was he strong enough, powerful enough, to keep her safe?

He had been an unutterable fool to invite Khira into their home. Should she take it into her devious mind to hurt Marisa, she had only to wait until he was hunting far from home to make a move. He knew Khira’s ability. She could be here and gone before he could sense her presence and return. She had been invited in, and now nothing would keep her out. He would have to be on his guard every minute until this matter with Khira was resolved.

He glanced up at their bedroom window. He could hear the soft, even sound of Marisa’s breathing, the soft rustle of sheets as she turned over.
Marisa.
She had rescued him from centuries of loneliness, filled his heart with love, given him a reason to rise in the evening.

A thought took him back to her side. He would not go out hunting this night.

Sliding under the sheet, he drew her into his arms and held her close, his mind touching hers ever so gently. She was dreaming, dreaming that he was making love to her on the floor in front of a blazing fire.

Whispering her name, he turned her dream into reality.

Kelly slept as late as she could, not wanting to let go of the dream, not wanting to leave the night behind. Never in all her life had she experienced such a night, or such a lover as Edward. His kisses had been sheer magic; his touch had aroused her to fever pitch. Most amazing of all, she had known what he was feeling, what he was thinking, as their bodies came together. Ecstasy. Bliss.

Knowing she couldn’t put it off any longer, she slid out of bed. She showered, dressed in a T-shirt and a pair of faded blue jeans, and went into the kitchen.

She grimaced when she opened the refrigerator. It was empty save for some butter, a couple of cans of root beer, and a loaf of white bread rapidly turning blue. She tossed the bread in the trash, then checked the cupboards and sighed her annoyance. There was butter and jam but no longer any bread. Cereal but no milk.

“Looks like it’s time to go shopping again,” she muttered, wondering how one person could go through so much food so fast.

She made a fresh pot of coffee, then found a scrap of paper and began writing a shopping list.

And all the while, her gaze moved to the door that led to the cellar. Edward was sleeping down there. The phrase “sleeping the sleep of the dead” ran unbidden through her mind.

He had thoughtfully left his car keys on the counter. Pouring herself a cup of coffee, she left the house. She picked up her things from the boardinghouse where she had been staying before moving in with Edward again. After collecting her belongings, she went to the market and stocked up on food and wine.

After thanking the box boy for loading her bags in the back seat, she slid behind the wheel of the Porsche and switched on the ignition. Pulling out of the parking lot, she flipped on the radio, grinned when the words to “Eddie, My Love” filled the air. Her heart swelled with happiness as she sang along.

When she stopped at a light, a sports car pulled up beside her. She glanced over at the driver, who gave her a wink and a smile, then revved his engine. She smiled back at him, and when the light turned green, she put the pedal to the metal and left him at the line.

She was grinning when she pulled into the driveway. “Home at last,” she murmured. The thought sobered her. She hadn’t had a real home since she lived with her parents, and now she was living with Dracula in the house of dark shadows.

After she put the groceries away, she dusted and vacuumed, wondering if he knew she was there. What was it like when he slept? Did he dream? Was he aware of what was going on around him? Would he hear her if she spoke to him? Marisa had said Grigori was aware of what went on around him, but he was far older in the vampire life than Edward.

Leaving the vacuum in the middle of the living room, she went to the door that led to the cellar, and carefully made her way down the stairs. She found the light switch and, turning it on, frowned as she glanced around the room. At first she didn’t see anything that looked like a door, and then she saw it. It was about a third the size of a regular door, painted the same color as the walls. There was no handle, no knob.

She knelt in front of it, wondering why it was so small. Anyone trying to get inside would have to crawl through on hands and knees. But perhaps that was the idea, she thought. It would certainly slow down any unwanted intruders, unless they were midgets. Or creatures of the night.

“Edward? Eddie, are you in there? Can you hear me?”

When there was no answer, she went back upstairs, anxious for nightfall.

 

 

Her voice penetrated the thick blackness that trapped him. He struggled toward awareness, cursing his inability to move. At first, he had feared she was in danger, that she needed his help, but there was no tension in her voice, no threat of fear, merely curiosity. He had always believed that vampires were totally oblivious to what went on around them when trapped in the Dark Sleep, but now he knew differently. He might be oblivious to others, but not to Kelly.

Pleased by the realization, he let himself fall back into the darkness once more.

 

 

She was waiting for him in the living room when he woke. She had dressed with care in a blue-and-white sundress and white sandals. Her hair fell around her shoulders in shimmering ebony waves. She smiled when she saw him. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, he crossed the room, bent down, and kissed her.

Her hands circled his neck. Drawing him closer, she deepened the kiss.

Ramsey drew back, his eyes glinting dangerously. “Careful, Kelly girl.”

She smiled up at him as she tilted her head to one side. “Drink, Edward.”

He needed no urging. He took what he needed, felt her sweetness move through him, filling him with a sense of peace, soothing the ravening hunger within.

“I’ll be back soon,” he promised. Kissing her again, he left the house in search of prey.

He felt Khira’s presence almost immediately, spreading like a dark stain across the quiet summer night. Moments later, she was at his side, linking her arm through his.

“Edward,
mi amour!
How I have missed you!” She smiled up at him. “So tell me, my fair one, have you finally accepted what you are?”

“I guess so.”

“Prove it to me, then. Come, hunt with me.”

“I have other plans.”

She pouted prettily, but he saw the predator behind the coquette. “Come with me.” Her voice was as soft as velvet, but he heard the steel beneath.

He hesitated and then nodded. Kelly could wait. Khira would not.

They hunted in the heart of the city, preying on drunks and derelicts. She was not interested in killing on this night, but in the thrill of the hunt. She fed with wild abandon, toying with her victims, drinking greedily, then moving on. Ramsey watched, repulsed yet fascinated. She felt no guilt, no compassion. Once, she looked up at him, her fangs dripping blood, and he saw the exhilaration in her eyes.

It was near three in the morning when she grew tired of her sport. Giving him a kiss on the cheek, she bade him good night and vanished into the darkness.

With a weary sigh, Ramsey willed himself home.

Kelly was asleep on the sofa, her head pillowed on her arm. Kneeling beside the sofa, he kissed her cheek. “I’m sorry, Kelly,” he whispered. “Forgive me.”

Her eyelids fluttered opened, and he saw she had been crying.

“Kelly!”

Distressed by her tears, he drew her down into his lap and cradled her against his chest. “I meant to come right back,” he said, “but I ran into Khira.”

Kelly’s eyes widened. “What did she want?”

“The same thing she always wants: a hunting companion. I dared not refuse her.”

“You’re afraid of her.”

“Damn right. She is a killer, totally without mercy. And she is very powerful. Probably the most powerful vampire alive.”

Kelly shivered. “You said you went hunting with her. Did she . . . did you . . . kill anyone?”

“Not this time.”

Her eyes filled with horror. “You’ve killed before?”

“Just once,” he admitted, “but it was an accident. You must believe that.”

“I believe you.”

“I will never forgive myself,” he said. “I didn’t mean for it to happen, but it was all so new to me, and the craving . . . Kelly, you cannot imagine the pain.” Agitated, he lifted her onto the sofa, then stood up and began to pace the floor. “I know, that’s no excuse for what I did, but . . .” He clenched his fists, slammed one against the wall. “Damn Chiavari! This is all his fault.”

Rising, Kelly went to stand behind him, her arms sliding around his waist. “Eddie, don’t. Please don’t. I hate to see you torturing yourself this way.”

“How can you stand to be with me after what I’ve done? I’m no better than Khira, no better than any of the vampires I have hunted.”

“That’s not true! You’re a good, decent man. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t feel so guilty. And you’re not to blame, not really.”

“I’m nothing but a monster.”

“Stop that!” She pressed a kiss to his back. “You’re nothing like them, do you hear me? If it will make you feel better, you can take my blood, as much as you need, whenever you need it.”

He laughed, a hollow sound devoid of humor. “You don’t have that much blood in you, Kelly.”

“I don’t know anything about being a vampire, Eddie. I can’t imagine what it’s like, what you’re going through. I wish I could help.”

He turned to face her, his arms sliding around her waist. “You do help, just by being here. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

His arms tightened around her as she rested her cheek on his chest. Contentment flowed through him. He could do this, he thought; with her help, he could control the beast within him, learn to live with what he was.

Kelly sighed. “I love you, Eddie.”

Marisa’s voice echoed in the back of his mind:
“Grigori and I are happy together, Edward. There’s no reason why you and Kelly can’t have a good life together.”

“Kelly.” He brushed a kiss across the top of her head. “Heaven help us both, I love you, too.”

On Thursday, Marisa called and invited Edward and Kelly over to play cards the following evening.

“Cards?” Kelly muttered after Edward hung up. “How can she want to play cards at a time like this? Doesn’t she know what’s going on?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Chiavari hasn’t told her.”

“Just a nice normal night with a couple of friends, is that it?” she asked.

“Normal,” Ramsey muttered. “My life’s never been normal.”

They arrived at Chiavari’s home a little after eight on Friday night. It was raining again, unusual for Los Angeles. “But perfect for a meeting of vampires,” Kelly remarked, laughing.

Marisa had set up a card table in the living room. A fire blazed in the fireplace. “What shall we play?” she asked when they were all seated at the table. “Canasta? Pinochle? Hearts? Rummy?” She looked at Grigori and wiggled her eyebrows. “Strip poker?”

“Very funny,” Grigori muttered.

“I like hearts,” Kelly said.

“Hearts, it is,” Marisa said. She slid the deck in front of Grigori. “You deal.”

At first, they made small talk about the weather, about the movie Marisa and Grigori had seen the previous night, but eventually Kelly’s curiosity got the best of her and the talk turned to vampires.

She looked at Grigori. “How long have you been a vampire?”

“Over two hundred years.”

Two hundred years, and he looked no more than thirty.

“It’s so hard to believe.”

“Vampires are as old as mankind,” Grigori remarked. “Every culture has recorded their existence, mostly as myths and fables. Some few have been recorded, like Elizabeth Bathory, who was known as the ‘Bloody Countess. ’ She murdered hundreds of young women. Not only did she drink their blood, she bathed in it, as well.”

“Oh, that’s disgusting,” Kelly exclaimed, wrinkling her nose.

“There were others. John Haigh, who was known as the Vampire of London. Fritz Haarmann, known as the Hanover Vampire, Peter Kurten, the Vampire of Dusseldorf.”

“Did you know any of them?” Kelly asked.

“No. In any case, they were not true vampires.”

“Well, it’s easy to believe there were vampires in the old days, but today . . .” She shook her head. “Who would believe it?”

“Tell her about the ranchers in Ojai,” Marisa said. She looked over at Kelly. “It always gives me the shivers.”

“What ranchers?” Kelly asked, her eyes bright with interest.

“About twenty years ago, some ranchers in California began finding cattle with their throats cut and drained of blood,” Grigori said. “They decided a vampire was to blame. When they searched the area, they found a large stone box at a crossroads. As they neared the box, a large black dog attacked them. One of the men threw holy water on the dog and it ran away. When the men reached the box, they pried off the lid. . . .”

Kelly shuddered. “You’re kidding!”

“No. They found a body inside.”

Her eyes widened. “Really?”

“Indeed. They staked the creature and left the area, and, if the story is to be believed, no more dead cattle were ever found.”

“You made that up.”

“Sadly, I did not.”

Kelly pondered that for a moment, then asked, “Can you do all the things vampires do in the movies? You know, turn into a bat, change into a mist, influence the weather—that kind of thing.”

Grigori smiled indulgently. “I don’t know about other vampires, but I’ve never turned into a bat. We do, however, have many powers that mortals lack.”

“Like the ability to read minds,” Marisa said with a wry grin.

Grigori smiled at her. “Yes. For that reason, vampires make good magicians and psychics.”

“Like Madame Rosa,” Kelly remarked.