A Whisper Of Eternity (24 page)

“Keep it,” he said.

“I don’t have any place to put it.”

Grunting softly, he folded the bills in half and placed them in the right pocket of his trousers. “The right is yours, the left is mine.”

Moving through the casino, Tracy couldn’t help but notice the way women turned to look at Dominic. Not that she could blame them. He was easily the most handsome man in the place. Not only that, but he exuded an air of mystery and sensuality that was impossible for any female over thirteen to ignore.

Dominic stopped at one of the craps tables and Tracy moved up beside him. She watched the game for a few minutes, completely baffled by what was going on. Dice and money seemed to change hands at an alarming rate and she had no idea how the players knew who was winning and who was losing. The man next to her had a row of one-hundred-dollar chips in front of him.

She wondered how the men who worked at the table remembered who had made which bets, and whose money to take and who to pay off.

She heard calls of “Eight the hard way” and “Any craps” and “Come on, seven” and “Twenty on big six” from the players and wondered what it all meant.

Tracy looked up at Dominic. “I’d ask you to explain it to me, but I don’t think it would help.”

Dominic pulled a roll of bills from the left-hand pocket of his trousers, peeled off five twenties, and handed them to her.

“That’s your money,” she said, noting which pocket he had reached into, “not mine.”

“I have more money to lose than you do.”

She couldn’t argue with that.

“The easiest thing to do is play the field,” he said. “It is one bet on one roll of the dice. If a shooter rolls a three, four, nine, ten, or eleven, you win. If they roll a two or a twelve, you win double. A five, six, seven, or eight means you lose.”

“That sounds simple enough.”

“You can also play any craps, which means if a shooter rolls a two, three, or a twelve, you win seven to one.”

“Oh, I like that!”

Dominic grinned at her. “Or you can play any seven, which pays four to one, or ace-deuce, which means you win if a shooter rolls a three. The odds are fifteen to one.”

“I get the feeling you’ve been here before.”

“A time or two.”

She felt a twinge of jealousy. “Did you come with someone?”

“No,
querida
. I would not have brought you here if I had.”

Pleased, she decided to play the field and placed a twenty on the table.

She was having a good time when she felt someone watching her. Glancing up, she saw a tall, painfully thin man staring at her through hooded brown eyes.

When she met his gaze, he smiled at her. The look sent a shiver down her spine and she tapped Dominic on the arm.

When he didn’t look at her right away, she tugged on his hand. “Dominic, that man is giving me the creeps.”

That got his attention. “What man?”

“Over there. In the gray sweater.”

Dominic found the man in question. Their gazes locked for stretched seconds, then the man in the gray sweater left the table.

“Who was that?” Tracy asked.

“An old acquaintance.”

Her eyes widened. “You mean he’s a vamp—”

“Yes.”

“Vampires in Vegas,” she murmured. “Sounds like a movie title.”

“It is a favorite hunting ground.”

Glancing at all the people milling around, Tracy found that easy to believe. Gamblers, transients, tourists who’d had too much to drink—they would be easy prey.

“Are there others here now?”

He nodded. “The man in the flowered tie. The woman in the sequined dress. The stickman at the next table. The attendant making change at the slot machine in the corner. The lady in the cashier’s cage.”

Tracy moved closer to Dominic, all thought of gambling forgotten as she tried to pick out the vampires among the people moving through the casino. She looked at the woman in the sequined dress, trying to see what it was that set her apart from the other women at the craps table. Her skin was pale and flawless and though she wasn’t really pretty, there was something different about her, something intangible yet undeniable. The same was true of the man in the flowered tie. He looked rather ordinary and yet there was something about him that set him apart from the others. She noticed that the other people at the table clustered around them, seeming to be eager for their attention.

Dominic leaned down to whisper in her ear. “It is the glamour of being vampire that sets them apart.”

Tracy frowned at him. “Is that why I invited you to dinner that first night? Because I was mesmerized by you?”

“No, though that might have been a part of it. We share the bond of eternity, my best beloved one.” He looked down at her, his dark eyes hot. “We will always find each other.”

She whispered his name, hoping he could hear the longing in her voice.

His gaze moved over her face and then, abruptly, he scooped up his chips and dropped them into his coat pocket. Taking her by the hand, he led her out of the casino to the elevators.

Desire hummed and flared between them as the car climbed the floors.

He was undressing her almost before the door to their room closed behind them and by the time they reached the bedroom, she was naked. Lying in bed, she watched him undress, admiring anew the width of his shoulders, the way his muscles rippled under his skin as he stripped off his trousers, the latent power evident in every move.

He looked at her, and she thought she would melt from the heat of his gaze. And then he was there on the bed beside her, drawing her into his arms, murmuring that he adored her, worshipped her, could not exist without her.

Caught up in the wonder and the magic that was Dominic, she welcomed the touch of his fangs at her throat, pleased that he desired her, that she could give him that which he needed to survive.

The second time they made love was as soul-shattering and pleasurable as the first. Exhausted mentally and physically by the events of the day, she fell asleep in his arms.

She woke with the sun shining brightly in her face. Eyes closed, she smiled and stretched as she remembered the night past and then, with a cry, her gaze darted to the pillow beside hers, afraid of what she would find.

But Dominic was gone.

Relief swept through her. For a moment, she had been afraid she might find a pile of ashes on the pillow.

Piling the pillows behind her, she sat up and stared out the window.

A moment later, there was a knock at the door.

Wrapping a sheet around her nakedness, she padded across the thick carpet. “Yes?”

“I’ve brought your breakfast, Mrs. St. John.”

She smiled at the sound of her married name as she opened the door a crack and peered out. “I didn’t order any breakfast.”

“Mr. St. John ordered it last night, ma’am.”

Tracy opened the door and stepped back and a young man wheeled a cart into the room. A second young man followed the first. He was carrying a vase filled with red roses, which he placed on the desk, and then he handed her an envelope.

“Will there be anything else, ma’am?” the first young man asked.

“No, thank you.” She glanced around the room. “I’m afraid I don’t have any . . .”

The boy smiled at her. “It’s been taken care of,” he said, and the two young men left the room, closing the door behind them.

Tracy opened the envelope and withdrew a sheet of hotel stationery and five one-hundred-dollar bills. Laying the cash on the desk, she read the note:

She read the note again, kissed his initials, and then sat down at the desk to eat. Unrolling the napkin, she found another note. She grinned as she read it.

One by one, she uncovered the trays, revealing a strawberry waffle, chocolate chip pancakes dusted with powdered sugar, scrambled eggs, two poached eggs, and eggs over easy. Another tray held hash browns, fried potatoes, bacon, and sausage. There was a cup of fruit, three kinds of muffins, a blueberry tart, two slices of French toast, a single-size serving of Rice Krispies, a carton of milk, a glass of orange juice, and a cup of coffee.

For a moment, she stared at all the dishes spread before her, and then she burst out laughing. One thing was for certain. Life with Dominic would never be ordinary!

Filled with the warmth of his love and caring, she ate a bite of everything, then went into the bathroom and luxuriated in a hot bubble bath.

Later, she went shopping, buying whatever caught her eye. Something for her. Something for him. Something for her. Something for her that was also for him.

She sent her purchases up to their room and then left Caesar’s Palace, deciding she might as well go sightseeing while she could. She wandered through the other casinos, overwhelmed by their opulence. They were all so gorgeous, both inside and out.

She ate lunch at the MGM Grand, stopped at The Mirage to wander through Siegfried and Roy’s Secret Garden and Dolphin Habitat, spent a few moments playing Blackjack at the Excalibur. And yet, no matter where she was or what she was doing, she couldn’t help wishing Dominic were with her, couldn’t help wishing she could hurry the sun across the sky.

How many vampires were there in Vegas? In the world?

Where had Dominic gone to spend the day?

Where did the others go?

In the movie
Dracula,
the vampire had been required to sleep on his native soil. Obviously that was Hollywood fiction since Dominic hadn’t mentioned such a thing, but thinking about it made her wonder how many other vampire myths were fantasy and how many were fact. Would he be repelled by garlic? A cross? Would pure silver or holy water burn him? She would have to ask him later.

She was crossing the lobby of Caesar’s Palace when she suddenly remembered Bryan. Hurrying up to her room, she dropped her packages on the bed, which had been made in her absence, and quickly dialed his number.

He didn’t answer, so she left a message, telling him where she was and giving him her room number. It was only when she hung up the receiver that she realized he was probably down at the beach.

At least she hoped that’s where he was. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something horrible had happened. She couldn’t help worrying that Kitana might have brought Bryan across, or that he was helplessly in thrall to her. She shook off a quick mental image of Bryan lying in a coffin beside Kitana, his lips stained with blood. If anything happened to him, it would be all her fault. Knowing how Bryan felt about vampires, how would she live with herself if Kitana forced the Dark Gift on him?

As much as she wanted to spend another night here, it was time to go home. She had to get in touch with Bryan, had to know that he was safe.

She glanced out the window, her heart skipping a beat when she saw the sun was low in the sky.

Dominic would be rising soon.

Kitana came awake the moment the sun began its slow descent below the horizon. Instantly alert, she sat up and stretched her arms over her head. As always, she was filled with a sense of indomitable power and well-being. She had been a sickly child. While her brothers and sisters were outside playing in the sun, she spent her days indoors, staring out the window. Unable to run and play with the others, she had been confined to her bed. Any exertion wearied her. Sometimes the mere act of eating had exhausted her.

She was nineteen years old the night the stranger came to her parents’ inn. She had been sitting on a chair in the common room in front of the fire, blankets swathed around her. Summer or winter, she was always cold.

The man’s gaze had settled on her face for a long time. His eyes had been a blue so pale they seemed almost colorless. But, for all that, they mesmerized her with their intensity. When he looked away, she felt as though she had lost something precious.

She had risen early the next morning, hoping to see him again. She had waited in the common room all day, but he had never made an appearance. And then, just when she was beginning to think she would never see him again, he had glided into the room. She couldn’t help staring. Never before had she seen a man like him. His clothing—fawn-colored breeches, a white lawn shirt, soft leather boots—was impeccable. Unlike the people of her small village, his skin was clear and smooth. His pale blond hair fell to his shoulders.

She stared at him, hoping to be noticed, and when he looked her way, a rush of warmth flooded through her, chasing away the cold that was ever a part of her.

Her eyes had widened as the stranger moved toward her.

When he reached her side, he inclined his head. “Good evening, my pretty one.”

Pleasure filled her at his words. “Good evening, kind sir.”

“Will you walk with me?”

She had swallowed hard. “Me? You want me to walk with you?”

He held out his hand. “Will you do me that honor?”

She hadn’t known what to say. No man had ever noticed her before. She glanced around the common room, looking for her mother but, for once, there was no one else in sight.

Filled with a sudden sense of adventure, she had thrown back the quilt that covered her and placed her hand in his.

With easy strength, he had helped her to her feet. Placing her hand on his arm, he had escorted her from the inn.

Outside, night had fallen. A slice of butter-yellow moon kept company with the stars.

Kitana shivered, though she wasn’t sure if it was her illness or the cool air that made her tremble. The stranger seemed to tower above her though he was only a few inches taller than she.

“How long have you been ill?” he asked.

“All my life, sir.”

“Have you seen a physician?”

“Yes. None of them has been able to help.”

“I can help you.”

Pausing, she had peered up at him. He looked back at her, his eyes glowing like pale sapphires in the darkness. “Are you a doctor, sir?”

“No.”

She shivered again, frightened now without knowing why. “I think I should go back. My mother . . .”

“Do not be afraid,
mein kleines.”

She drew her hand from his arm and backed away. “Good night, sir.”

She didn’t see him move, but the next thing she knew, his fingers were digging into her forearm and he was dragging her into the trees. She struggled in his grasp, kicking and scratching. Her nails raked his face, but to no avail.

When they were well away from the inn, he came to a stop.

Kitana looked up at him, her heart drumming in her ears. “What . . . what are you going to do to me?”

“I am going to give you a gift that was given to me centuries ago.”

“A gift?” she asked skeptically. “What kind of gift?” He looked past her into the distance. “I am the last of my kind.”

“Your kind?” Some of her fear dissipated in the face of her curiosity.

“I am
Vampyr.
”

“
Vampyr?
” She repeated the word, then gasped. “You mean vampire? You’re a vampire?”

He nodded. “All the others are gone. Those who were not destroyed by the hunters have taken their own lives.”

She tugged against his hold, her gaze darting from side to side. “But I have no wish to be a vampire.”

“I have never brought anyone across. My blood is pure, my powers strong.” His gaze settled on her face again. “I have what you need,” he said quietly. “But be warned, the gift I am about to give you carries great risk and great responsibility.”

She stared up at him, the taste of fear bitter on her tongue, as he lowered his head toward her. She tried to fight him, her struggles increasing when she felt his teeth at her throat. And then, abruptly, she was filled with a sense of warmth and well-being. She closed her eyes and leaned into him, all thought of resistance swallowed up in the sense of euphoria that engulfed her.

“Kitana. Kitana, child, you must drink.”

Feeling drugged, she blinked up at him.

He thrust his wrist in front of her, pushed it against her lips. “Drink!”

Staring into the endless depths of his eyes, she did as she was told. And when he tried to draw his arm away, she clung to him, hungry for more. Strength flowed into her with every swallow. Energy pulsed through her with every breath. For the first time that she could remember, she felt healthy and strong, felt as though she could run and never grow weary, climb a tree, swim the river.

Muttering an oath, he wrested his arm from her grasp.

She stood on her own, looking up at him, her brow furrowed in confusion. Though it was late night, she could see clearly. The veins in the leaves on the trees. The individual threads in the stranger’s coat. The thin plume of smoke rising from the inn.

She looked at him and laughed out loud; then, extending her arms out to her sides, she twirled around and around.

“Vampire!” She shouted it to the stars. “I am vampire!”

That night, the stranger, whose name was Wolfric, told her all she needed to know to survive. She listened intently, though now and then her attention was drawn away. It was difficult to concentrate on one thing when there was so much to see, to hear. Every sense was heightened, sharpened.

When, near dawn, he rose to leave her, she clung to his hand, begging him not to go.

He had smiled down at her and for the first time she noted how very weary he looked.

“Enjoy your new life,
mein kleines
,” he had said kindly.

Tears filled her eyes, dripped onto her hand, as red as blood.

Tenderly, he had stroked her cheek. “Remember me.”

“Please do not leave me. I am afraid.”

“There is nothing to fear.”

“Where are you going? Will I ever see you again?”

Rising, he had drawn her up against him and kissed her cheek. “
Auf wiedersehen.”

“Wait!”

Even before the word left her lips, he was gone in a twinkling of silver mist.

And she had known, on some deep instinctive level, that he had gone to meet the sun.

Rising, she bathed, then dressed with care. Like many newly made vampires, the lust for blood had been overpowering. In the beginning, the hunger had been unbearable and she had taken lives, perhaps more than necessary. Back then, she had lacked the patience to feed slowly and in her haste and hunger, she had killed indiscriminately. In time, she had learned to control the hunger, to feed at her leisure. She had learned it was not necessary to kill to survive, that she could leave her prey alive, if she chose, though she rarely did so.

There was, after all, no end of handsome young men to feast upon. Though she had bewitched many of them through the years, she had bequeathed the Dark Gift to but a few. Like Dominic. Even after all these centuries, she regretted her foolishness in letting him get away. But she had still been a young vampire then, easily amused, quickly bored.

Of the mortals she had turned, Petrina was the most like Kitana. Not every mortal could handle immortality, but Petrina had been a vampire at heart even before the change. She was a relentless hunter. She delighted in keeping her prey alive, toying with them as a cat played with a mouse, taking the blood of her victims a little at a time, all the while letting them know that death awaited them.

Ah, Petrina. She far excelled Kitana in cruelty and blood-letting. And she had set herself against Dominic. Kitana frowned. Sooner or later, her two fledglings would again seek to destroy one another. And while she was fond of Petrina, it was Dominic who had ever been her favorite. Perhaps she could find a way to arrange a peace between them before they destroyed each other. She did not wish to lose them both.

Long ago she had vowed to bring Dominic to his knees, but they had been words spoken in anger. Though she had told him she could destroy him, she was no longer certain it was true. Power radiated from him, power perhaps equal to her own. And while she would have enjoyed his company through the ages, she was no longer certain of her ability to control him. He was a proud man, arrogant in his preternatural strength,

But tonight was not a night for thinking of the past. Tonight was a night for romance.

Smiling, she ran a hand through her hair, filled with an almost girlish excitement at the prospect of seeing the boy, Bryan, again.