Books by Maggie Shayne (163 page)

But even the wonder of seeing firsthand the legendary abilities of the man couldn’t distract him for more than an instant. The first lines of defense were nearly broken, and Jameson was the first vampire to cross them, smashing a door from its hinges in his rage, and lunging inside.

Those who approached him found themselves sailing bodily through the air, crashing into walls and sliding to the floor, bloodied and immobile. Someone yelled from behind, and he whirled, only to see Pandora’s sleek black form spring upon a guard who’d been about to shoot him in the back.

The guard’s cry was chilling, but brief.

All around Jameson people were shouting, guns were going off, explosions were rocking the ground. He made his way to the back, fighting through the armed men who rushed forward to join the battle. And then through the others, the cowards, who knew what was happening—who had, perhaps, known all along that this day of reckoning would come—and whose only goal now was escape. Like rats fleeing a burning ship they raced for the rear exits. Jameson passed the research lab just as its barred windows were smashed to bits, and hordes of vampires surged inside, intent on destroying every trace of information these bastards had gathered. He heard the computers being hurled to the floor, smelled the smoke as the files were set aflame. But he didn’t stop. He kept moving onward, finding the stairs, not trusting the elevators. And his instincts were good, because halfway down, the lights went out. Someone was using his head. Vampires could see perfectly in the dark. Humans, on the other hand…

He collared a white-coated fool who was whimpering for mercy, and slammed him against the wall. “Where are they?” And when the man didn’t answer he slammed him again, and his wire-rimmed glasses fell to the floor.

“D-d-d-down…th-that way…p-p-please—‘”

Jameson released the man, and raced in the direction he’d pointed. And then he skidded to a stop in the dark, cold hall of the lower level. Because…he heard her.

She was singing. Her voice was wavering, weak…but she was singing, and it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard in his life.

“Angel…” His knees nearly buckled in relief, but he forced them steady and ran to the door that was all that remained between them. And growling with the effort, he tore the thing away and hurled it back down the hall.

She sat there, on the floor, and she lifted her head, met his eyes. “You came,” she whispered, and tears flooded her face.

“You knew I would,” he said, and he ran forward, fell to his knees, his hands cupping her head, his eyes searching her face.

“Are you all right? Tell me you’re all right, Angel, because I can’t quite believe—”

“I’m all right. It’s…the drug. That’s all.”

He closed his eyes in relief, then opened them again when a small hand smacked him in the chin, and looked down at his child, warm and safe in her mother’s arms. “And you’re all right, too, aren’t you, my love?”

She cooed and chirped at him like a small bird just testing its voice.

“She’s more than all right,” Angelica whispered. “She’s mortal, Jameson. She eats and sleeps and grows…just like any other child.”

“Not like any other child,” he told her. “No, not my Amber. She’s far from normal. She’s the daughter of an Angel.”

He leaned forward, pressed his lips to Angelica’s and saw her close her eyes and absorb his kiss. And when he straightened, he slipped his arms beneath her and scooped her up. “Hold Amber Lily tight, sweet Angel. I’m taking the two of you out of here.”

She blinked up at him. “Yes…but Jameson, there are others. Other prisoners, suffering here, and I—”

“That, my dear, is being taken care of,” said a regal, familiar voice from near the doorway. He turned with Angelica in his arms, to see Rhiannon, her cat at her side, and a barely conscious, reed-thin vampire in her arms. “Now come, I want that precious little one out of all this.”

Jameson hurried forward, and made his way to the stairs again. He carried Angelica up them, back through to the front entrance, dodging smoke and fires and debris, but very few bullets now. This battle was already waning. He raced outside, carried Angelica and Amber Lily to the mesh fence and lowered them to the ground in the shelter of some bushes near it.

He straightened, looking back toward the building.

Angelica grabbed his arm. “You’re not going back.”

“I have to.”

“You could be killed,” she cried.

And he stared down into her eyes. “It doesn’t matter now. You and the baby are safe. It doesn’t matter.”

“No, Jameson. I’m not going to let you go back there. It does matter, don’t you see? It matters more than ever.”

He looked down at her, frowning, saw fresh tears brimming in her eyes. “But—”

“But nothing. Dammit, Vampire, if I’ve only survived all of this to lose you now…” Her voice trailed off and she bit her lip.

Jameson’s heart leaped, but he didn’t dare think…no, she was drugged and grateful and overwhelmed. “Angelica,” he said, kneeling beside her. “You and Amber Lily are safe now. And free. And I’ve got no more excuses to coerce you into staying with me, the way I’ve been doing for the past few days. You…” He sighed hard. “You can go, if you want to. But Angel, I don’t…I don’t think I want to live long enough to hear you say goodbye.”

“You’re immortal,” she said softly. “And even with that, you’ll never live that long.”

He looked down at her. “What are you saying, Angel?”

“I’m saying that I love you, Jameson.” She stared up at him through her tears. “I love you.”

He blinked down at her, his jaw dropping, his heart squeezing into a knot. “Angelica…” He couldn’t go on, couldn’t speak.

She lowered her head. “I was hoping…you might feel something for me, too. Maybe…maybe I was wrong…”

Jameson gathered her into his arms, with their daughter between them, and lowered his head and kissed her deeply and passionately, as his heart swelled to bursting.

He lifted his head away. “I’ve loved you all along, Angel. Even that first night, I felt something… something I couldn’t explain. I told myself I hated you, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. You…you’re everything to me, Angel. Everything.”

She smiled weakly, and he kissed her again. He held her there, in his arms, and he caressed her face, and reveled in her closeness, her love. And as they embraced, the others surged out of the building, crowds of them, all that had gone inside and still more. Other captives, free now, some weak, some near death, but all rejoicing. And when everyone was safely outside, Damien stepped forward, focusing his gaze on the building before them for long, tense moments. And suddenly, it exploded in a blinding ball of energy. Every brick crumbled. The percussion rocked the ground, and the flames lit the night like a torch of hope. A deafening roar of triumph went up from the crowd of vampires.

No one would have guessed that most of the adult chaperons at the junior prom were vampires.

Jameson held his wife pressed close to him in his arms. They swayed slowly in time to the music played by suited youths on the stage in the center of the decorated gymnasium. He and Angelica lingered in the shadows, as did most of their friends. Rhiannon and Roland sat at a candlelit table, watching the festivities. Eric and Tamara were dancing near the rear exit. It wouldn’t do to draw too much attention to themselves. They’d promised their little girl they wouldn’t, after all. And besides, this was her night.

“Go ahead,” said a young man several yards away to another one who stood nervously beside him. “Ask her.”

“No way. She’ll shoot me down and I’ll have to go jump off a bridge.”

“Maybe she’ll say yes,” said the first.

Both of them were watching the most strikingly beautiful girl at the prom. She was tall and slender, with hair as black as a raven’s wings that danced around her waist when she moved. And haunting ebony eyes that seemed to hold countless secrets. She stood near the punch bowl with her best friend in the world, Alicia. Both of them swaying a little in time to the music.

Clearing his throat, the nervous teenage boy approached her. “Hi, Amber,” he said.

And she smiled. “Hi, Jimmy.”

“Would you…um…would you like to dance?”

“I’d love to.”

The boy’s face split in a delighted smile, and he took her into his arms.

Amber looked across the dance floor and caught her father’s eye
. I
love you, Daddy
.

I love you, too, Amber Lily
. He sent his thoughts out to his daughter without a word, and then added a wink.
Just see the young man doesn’t hold you too close
.

Amber smiled and rolled her eyes ceilingward as her partner whirled her around the floor.

“Have we done it, do you think?” Jameson asked his Angel, pulling her still closer, nuzzling her ear with his lips.

“Made her happy? Yes, Jameson. I think we have.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t have come,” he said. “Maybe we’re overprotective.”

“She doesn’t mind at all,” Angelica whispered. “She loves us, Jameson. Don’t you know that?”

He nodded thoughtfully, but still feared he might have offended his daughter by volunteering to chaperon her prom. He loved her so much, it was hard to know when he was overstepping, and when he was only being reasonable. “She’s so beautiful,” he said. Then he bent lower, and kissed the neck that so tempted him. “Like her mother.”

“And every bit as stubborn as her father,” she replied.

Frowning, Jameson glanced back at the dance floor. “So what do you think of this Jimmy?”

“I think he’s cute.”

He grumbled, and Angel kissed his nose.

“I also think we should let Amber Lily decide about Jimmy. She’s inherited her father’s brains, as well, you know.”

Jameson closed his eyes and sighed. “She’s really all right.”

“You still having trouble believing it?” she asked him. “Even after you made Eric repeat those blood tests five times to be sure? The belladonna antigen is different in her,” she reminded him, repeating what Eric’s tests had proven time and time again. “The gene that causes premature death in mortals who have the antigen is missing.”

He nodded. “And yet she has psychic powers as strong as ours—and her physical strength is getting more amazing every day.”

“Rhiannon likes to think she inherited her preternatural abilities from her aunt, the princess,” Angelica mused.

“It’s a miracle,” he said. “
She’s
a miracle.” He smiled and looked into her eyes. “Have I told you lately, my Angel, how very much I adore you?”

“Yes,” she said. “But feel free to tell me again.”

Just as he was about to kiss her, he felt a tap on his shoulder, and turned to see his little girl holding hands with her young man.

He straightened up, clearing his throat.

“Dad, Mom, I want you to meet Jimmy.”

“Hello,” they said in unison.

Jimmy gawked at them for a moment, then looked at Amber again. “You gotta be kidding me. That’s your mom?”

“Looks great for her age, doesn’t she?” Amber sent her mother a knowing glance that probably only made her seem more mysterious to the smitten young man.

“Yes. I mean…um, nice to meet you…both.”

“Likewise,” Jameson said.

Amber looked up at her father. “It’s almost the last dance,” she told him. “I saved it for you.”

Jameson felt his throat go tight, and his eyes begin to burn. But he managed to blink them clear as he took his daughter’s hand, and walked with her onto the floor. As he held her in his arms, he met Angel’s eyes across the room, and he saw the sparkle of happy tears there that matched his own.

“I’m glad you’re here tonight, Daddy,” Amber whispered.

“I’ll always be here for you, Amber Lily,” he promised. “Always.”

TWILIGHT HUNGER

MIRA

ISBN 1-55166-886-6

TWILIGHT HUNGER

Copyright © 2002 by Margaret Benson.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

MIRA and the Star Colophon are trademarks used under license and registered in Australia, New Zealand, Philippines, United States Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries.

Visit us at www.mirabooks.com

Printed in U.S.A.

Long ago, I was writing vampire stories for Silhouette Shadows. When the line went away (briefly, I'm sure, being a believer in reincarnation) I thought for a time I wouldn't be able to continue with the series I had begun. But there were people at Silhouette who loved Wings in the Night as much as I did, as much as its faithful readers did.

The leader of them all was my editor, Leslie Wainger.

She kept this series alive by having me do one story as a Silhouette single-title release, another as a special Silhouette Intimate Moments two-in-one. Because of that, the popularity of the series never waned. She didn't give it a chance to wane. And all the while she was working behind the scenes to help me breathe new life into it, until finally, MIRA Books was ready to take the dive into the realm of the paranormal. Without Leslie Wainger,

I promise you, this series would have ended with two books and a novella. Instead this is book number seven, and I'm already plotting number eight and thinking about number nine. Thank you, dear, dear Leslie, for excellence in editing, for tremendous support of your authors, for the little hearts and smiley faces and comments you scribble in the margins of my manuscripts (you'll never know how much those mean to me, especially the "Damn you, I'm bawling" ones) but most of all for "getting" me and the quirky work I do.

This book is dedicated to Leslie Wainger from the bottom of my heart.