Night's Pleasure (18 page)

For Savanah, the next few days passed like something out of a fairy tale. She was the princess, and Rane was the wizard, the big bad wolf, and the handsome prince, all rolled into one.

They spent their nights cuddling on the sofa, swimming in the pool, or stretched out under the stars, sharing bits and pieces of their pasts. They went to bed just before dawn. Some nights they made love, some nights, overcome by severe bouts of grief, Savanah cried herself to sleep in Rane's arms, only to wake late in the afternoon, alone. Several times, she had been tempted to peek into Mara's lair, but so far she had restrained her curiosity.

While Rane rested, she passed the time reading, working crossword puzzles, or playing computer games. It was a strange life. Sometimes it seemed as if they were the only two people on Earth; sometimes she felt like she was in limbo, caught between two worlds; sometimes it all seemed like some sort of fever dream from which she would eventually awake, and she would find her father waiting for her at home, a cup of coffee in his hand, a smile of welcome on his face as he asked about her day.

She thought of him often. At those times, the need to avenge his death burned hot and bright within her, along with a knife-edged sense of guilt for spending her days and nights with Rane when she should be out hunting for her father's killer.

After ten days and nights in the cabin, Savanah thought she might go stir-crazy if she had to spend one more day cooped up.

She confronted Rane when he appeared the following evening. “I have to get out of here. I need to go out to dinner or a movie, something. I need to see other people. I'm beginning to feel like we're the last two living souls on the planet.”

Watching her pace the floor, Rane couldn't help muttering, “Only one of us is living.”

She whirled around to face him. “You had to say that, didn't you? As if I could forget.”

He regarded her thoughtfully for a moment. “I thought you had come to terms with that.”

“I have.”

“You just don't like to be reminded?”

“Well, if you must know, it doesn't thrill me.”

“You'd rather I was mortal?”

“Well, of course.”

“I guess I can't blame you,” he replied, “since I'd rather you were Nosferatu.”

Savanah stared at him, somewhat taken aback by what he had said. It had never occurred to her that he wished she was anything but what she was. Thinking about it now, it seemed perfectly logical. She recalled telling Rane that her parents had been happy together even though they were nothing alike. But the differences between herself and Rane were more than differing points of view on religion or politics or where to spend their vacation. She was a mortal female, subject to sickness and death; he was a Vampire, ageless and virtually immortal. She lived by day, he lived by night. She existed on food and water; he survived on the blood of others. Could they ever really find any common ground, other than the fierce physical attraction they shared? Could that be enough?

“Would you like to go into town?” he asked.

“What?”

“I asked if you'd like to go into town.”

“Oh, yes! Yes, I would.” She had a sudden, desperate need to be around other people. Normal people who didn't drink blood, sleep in coffins, or read minds. “Just let me change my clothes.”

They left the house fifteen minutes later. Rane was unusually quiet as they drove down the narrow, winding road. Savanah glanced at him from time to time, thinking he was a feast for feminine eyes. As the silence stretched between them, she wondered what he was thinking. If only she could read his mind as easily as he read hers.

“Are you having second thoughts?” he asked.

“About what?”

“About us.”

She met his gaze, her eyes filled with accusation. “You promised not to read my mind!”

“I didn't.”

“Then why…?”

“You looked surprised when I said I wished you were a Vampire. And you obviously don't like being reminded that that's what I am.”

“I just…” She shook her head. “I guess it takes more getting used to than I thought, that's all. I mean, I never expected to meet a Vampire, let alone fall in love with one. In the last few weeks, my whole world has turned upside-down. Can't you understand that? I mean, my life will never be the same again.”

“Who better to understand something like that than I? You think your life has changed?” He snorted softly. “One night I went to bed a perfectly normal teenager and when I woke the next night, I was a Vampire. That's life-changing.”

“I suppose so.” Savanah blew out a sigh. There was always someone worse off than you were.

Life-changing,
Rane thought as he negotiated a sharp curve in the road. One taste of mortal blood and the world as he had known it had ceased to exist. He saw colors with crystal clarity, even in the darkness that had become his day. Each stitch in clothing, hairline cracks in buildings, individual brush strokes in a painting—no detail was too small to go unnoticed. It had been disconcerting at first. Supernatural hearing had taken some getting used to, as well. Without trying, he could hear voices across the room or across the street. He had listened to music as if hearing it for the first time, each note separate and distinct from the other. His sense of taste and touch and smell had been amplified; his physical strength was nothing short of phenomenal, and he had reveled in it, pitying the mere mortals who had become his prey. In the beginning, drunk with power, he had done things for which he was now ashamed. Oh, yeah, he knew about life-changing events.

Ten minutes later, the lights of the town cut through the darkness.

“So,” Rane asked, “where do you want to go?”

“To the Lobster Pot for dinner, and then for a walk through the town. And maybe a late movie?”

Rane parked on the street in front of the seafood restaurant and followed Savanah inside. Because it was during the week, the crowd was small and they were seated right away.

Savanah ordered a fried shrimp dinner. Rane ordered a glass of red wine.

“Does it bother you,” she asked, “to be in here?”

“No.” It wasn't entirely true. The smells coming from the kitchen were unpleasant but not unbearable.

“When do you think I'll be able to go home?”

“I don't know. I should probably go back and see if anyone's been there.”

“How would you know?”

“I'd know.”

“How?”

“My senses are much keener than yours. I can see things, smell things, that you'd never notice.”

“The way you smelled the Vampire who killed my father?”

“Exactly. I'll know if she's been there again.”

“I can't stay here, hiding out, indefinitely. I have a life of my own.” She took a deep breath. “And I need to pursue the family business.”

“Killing Vampires?”

“Exactly.”

“So, you intend to take up where Daddy left off?”

“If I do nothing else, I intend to find and destroy the Vampire who killed him. And any other Vampires who get in my way.”

Rane suppressed a grin. It was big talk for an untried hunter whose head barely reached his shoulder, but he had to admire her grit.

“Does it bother you, my eating in front of you?” Savanah asked when the waitress arrived with her order.

“No.” He watched her take a bite. “Shrimp used to be one of my favorites. That and lobster.”

She speared one of the plump shrimp on her plate and dipped it in cocktail sauce. “Do you want to try one?”

He shook his head. He had tried solid food once, years ago. It was a mistake he remembered all too clearly—the salty taste of the meat, the vague smell of the wood it had been cooked over, the odd sensation of chewing, the revulsion when it had all come up again. It had been a harsh reminder that he was no longer human, and thus his body could no longer tolerate solid food. Nevertheless, his gaze lingered on the sauce. It was bright and red, like fresh blood.

Leaning back, Rane sipped his wine, ever aware of his surroundings, of the people coming and going. If he opened his senses, he could hear the conversations and thoughts emanating from everyone in the place, as well as what was going on in the kitchen, and in the alley beyond. As a new Vampire, he had often eavesdropped on the mortals around him, but the novelty had soon worn off. These days, he blocked all extraneous background noise and dialogue except when he was onstage, performing.

“Oh, my, that was good,” Savanah said, pushing her plate away. “I couldn't eat another bite.”

Rane signaled the waitress for their check and they left the restaurant. Outside, he took Savanah's hand in his and they walked down the street. She stopped to peer inside every shop window. It surprised her to notice that glass reflected his image, but mirrors backed by silver didn't.

They walked to the end of the business district, then turned and started back up the other side of the street.

Savanah had stepped into some fancy boutique to try on a skirt she had seen in the window when Rane sensed the presence of another Vampire. It took only moments to locate her, a tall, slender female clad in cutoff jeans and a bright purple tank top. Curly brown hair fell in riotous waves down her back. She had recognized Rane, as well. Standing on the opposite side of the shop, she was staring back at him, her blue eyes narrowed, her body poised for flight.

A moment later, another female stepped out of one of the dressing rooms, her expression wary as her gaze zeroed in on Rane. She was younger than the first; her hair was blond and spiked. A tiger tattoo adorned her left shoulder.

They were both young, little more than fledglings.

He crossed the distance between them before they realized he had moved. “Who are you?” he asked. “Who made you?”

“Who are you?” the curly haired female retorted.

“Rane Cordova.”

The two females looked at each other, their eyes wide.

“I take it you've heard of me?” Rane asked dryly.

“Of course,” the brunette said. “The Cordova family is well-known.”

Rane didn't deny it. His family was unique among Vampires, not only because their mother had been mortal or because Mara was godmother to himself and Rafe, but because her blood ran in their veins, inherited from their father. In Mara's long life, she had bequeathed a taste of her blood to only a few. There were some in the Vampire community who were willing to go to any lengths to procure a little of her ancient blood for themselves. It was most effective when taken directly from the source, but there were some who wouldn't be adverse to getting it secondhand. Mara's blood had made Rane unusually strong, but not equal to Rafe or their father, both of whom had drunk from her and were therefore able to walk in the sun's light. As he had before, Rane wished fleetingly that he had taken Mara up on her offer before she left for Egypt.

“I'm waiting,” he said tersely.

“I'm Nona,” the curly haired female said. “I was made by Richard Sachs two years ago.”

“I'm Teri,” the other female said. “Nona made me five months ago.”

“Do you have leave from Mara to dwell here?”

The two females exchanged looks that told Rane everything he needed to know.

“What about you?” Nona asked, going on the defensive. “Do you have Mara's permission?”

“Damn right. And I want both of you out of here before sunrise.”

“This isn't your territory,” Nona exclaimed. “You can't make us leave.”

“You think not?” Rane summoned his power, felt it roll off him like heat lightning.

The young Vampires felt it, too. With a shriek, Nona grabbed her friend's hand and bolted out the door.

“Well,” Savanah remarked, coming up behind him. “What was that all about?”

“That skirt looks good on you,” he said, turning to face her.

“Thank you, but that doesn't answer my question.”

He shrugged. “Just a little Vampire business.”

“Oh?” She glanced out the door, but the two women were already out of sight. “Did you know them? Was one of them the one who killed my father?”

“No.”

“Why did they leave in such a hurry?”

“They've got no business here.”

“In the store? Why not?”

“In the town. This is Mara's territory. She doesn't allow any other Vampires except those she invites.”

“How do you know she didn't invite them?”

“I would have known. Mara would have marked them.”

“Marked them how?”

Rane shrugged. “I don't know how to explain it to you. When cats want to mark something as theirs, they rub against it. It's the same idea.”