Dance with Darkness (3 page)

Chapter 5

Lorena

T
he scent attacked her at the beginning of her solo.

She’d just risen up en pointe for the start of her fouette sequence when it hit her, sliding up her nose and down her throat like fingers that scratched at her stomach. She closed her eyes for the briefest of seconds against the sensation, but even that was too long.

As her foot slipped and she hit the wooden floor of the stage, a sickening snap filled the air, followed by several gasps from her fellow dancers. Pain exploded in her right ankle, and she wrapped both hands around the joint. Oh no. Not now, not in front of all these dancers.

Jon and the two corp dancers rushed over. Their frightened questions blended together, muffled beneath the roaring in her ears.

“Is it broken?” Jon demanded, his eyes wide with horror as he tried to reach for her ankle. She used her elbow to knock his hand away. “Lor, are you all right? Someone get the doctor!”

“No!” Her voice came out at a near shriek. The last thing she needed was the company doctor, even though her ankle was decidedly broken. At least the director wasn’t here tonight. She reined in her voice. “No, it’s okay. Really. I just need a few seconds to catch my breath.” As if she needed to breathe. What a joke. All she really needed was a couple of minutes to let the bone heal again without their seeing it. “Just…help me up? I’ll go ice it in my dressing room.”

“Good idea.” Jon slid an arm around her, his grip gentle as he lifted her to her feet. She kept her weight on her good leg as Jon and the others helped her move. Then she glanced toward the wings. And found the source of that scent waiting for her with a dark scowl. What was Conor doing here? His hands fisted at his sides as he lurched forward a step, almost as if he wanted to help her. The others were too busy to notice the stranger in their midst. But she did. Her eyes locked with Conor’s until the small group led her past and she was forced to look away.

In the dressing room, she eased down into one of the metal chairs. Jon ran off for a minute then returned with a cold can of soda. “Sorry, it’s all we’ve got. I’ll have someone run out and get you some proper ice…”

“No, it’s okay.” She made herself smile for Jon as she accepted the can and held it against her throbbing ankle, which was almost healed already. “Actually, my ankle is starting to feel better now. I think it’s going to be okay.”

“Are you sure?” Jon breathed out, one hand pressed to his chest, the other gripping the back of her chair. “Because I could’ve sworn I heard the bone snap when you went down.”

She gulped against the tightness in her throat. “I’m sure. It’s going to be okay in a few minutes, I think. Why don’t you guys go ahead and return to rehearsal? I’ll be out there again soon. In the meantime, there’s no reason to hover and waste practice time.”

Jon grimaced. “As if practice is more important—“

“It is,” she interrupted, her voice as firm as she could make it. “You don’t want anyone to break their bones for real out there, do you? So you’d better use all the practice time you can get.” Humans were incredibly fragile, yet they didn’t even seem to realize it. Didn’t he understand any one of the dancers in their company could snap a bone and possibly end their career in a split second? And unlike her, their bones wouldn’t heal nearly as fast. “Go on. I’ll be fine, honest.”

He sighed but nodded and led the others out, pulling the door shut behind him.

Alone in the dressing room, she let out a sigh of her own. Geez, that was close. If she’d broken a different bone, one more easily visible, how would she have explained miraculously healing two minutes later? Gingerly she straightened out her right leg and rotated her foot. Yep, already good as new again. Still, she’d better stay in here for a while longer to make it believable. Even if she hadn’t broken her ankle, they would expect her to need at least a few minutes of rest.

The dressing room door creaked open, and she shut her eyes on a groan. “Jon, seriously. I’m all right.”

“And that’s what is so interesting.”

The voice was far too deep to be Jon’s.

Her head popped up. Conor Blake leaned against the frame of the door, arms crossed over his chest, his mouth twisted into a sardonic smile.

A second later, the scent hit her, making her suck in a hard breath through her mouth. Oh hell. She could not be in a small, enclosed space with him. Not and be responsible for her actions. The unopened soda can made a loud thunk in the silence as she set it down on the wooden vanity then eased up out of her chair.

“Should you be standing so soon after breaking your ankle?” he asked.

Halfway out of the chair, she froze, her hands gripping the edge of the built-in vanity. “I didn’t break it.”

“That’s not what I saw.” He stepped into the room, closing the distance between them. She turned and stumbled back against the vanity, forgetting to move slowly like a human would. Mere inches away now, he crouched down beside her and grabbed her right ankle. Yet his touch was gentle as his warm hands enclosed the joint. “Hmm, not even a hint of swelling. Interesting.”

“Like I said, I didn’t break it. You must have been mistaken.” She stepped sideways, keeping her movements slow. His hands slid away from her, but he didn’t stand up. His expression was thoughtful as he studied her. “Our rehearsals are closed to the public, by the way.”

One thick eyebrow arched. “Throwing me out, are you?”

She took a long breath in, then out, and crossed her arms. “Is there a particular reason you’re here today?”

“Actually, there is.” He rose to his feet as fluidly as a dancer. But no dancer had ever made her heart pound like this. “I know what you are.”

Her heartbeat stuttered then raced ahead, and she had to work to remember to breathe. Surely he couldn’t know the truth. No one knew, not even her parents back in
Houston
. She’d been so careful. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

His mouth twisted. “Don’t you? The pale, cold skin. The silver eyes. The ability to heal broken bones within minutes.” He leaned in until only a few inches separated them and his breath whispered over her cheek. “That certain…craving you get every now and then that human food and drink just won’t fix.”

She gulped. “What are you implying, Mr. Blake?”

“That you’re a vampire, Miss Childs. An immortal blood drinker, pure and simple. And a danger to every human around you.”

“No.” The word tore itself out of her lungs.

“No?” His eyebrows shot up. “Which part did I get wrong?”

“I…I don’t drink blood.” Even the idea was disgusting. Or at least it had been until she’d met him. “And I’m not a danger to humans.”

“Oh really.” He leaned back, staring down at her. “So if I cut myself…” He retrieved a set of keys from the pocket of his charcoal gray slacks. On the ring hung a tiny Swiss Army knife. Deftly he flipped out its blade and pressed it over the pad of one of his fingers.

Her teeth ached at the mere thought of would happen if that blade sliced across his skin. Her body began to tremble, the shaking increasing with each passing second. “No. Don’t,” she whispered.

“And if I did? What would happen, Miss Childs? Would you look for a bandage? Would you try to stop the bleeding? Or would you want to do something else?”

His scent spun around her, clouding the rational part of her mind. She blinked fast and stopped breathing. She had to think clearly, stay in control. She could not, would not reach out and grab his hand. She clenched her teeth to keep her incisors from elongating. And all the while, she shook like an addict aching for her next fix.

“What do you want?” she muttered, careful to move only her lips. If she unclenched her teeth, her fangs would drop down.

He didn’t answer, and fury flowed up into the back of her throat.

“What do you want from me!”

He leaned toward her again, ducking his head, holding her with his gaze. She angled backward over the vanity, needing to keep that last bit of space between them for her own sanity, but unable to take the steps she needed to truly escape him.

“I want you to stay away from my daughter.”

All of this was because he was worried she’d hurt Chrissy? A short laugh of disbelief shot out of her. “Fine. Done. I’m not the monster you think I am.”

Still he didn’t move away.

“What else?” she whispered, since obviously he wasn’t satisfied yet. She’d promise anything to get him to leave here before she lost control and did something she’d regret the rest of her life.

“Have dinner with me. This Friday.”

Huh? He’d gone from accusing her of being a leech to…to wanting to
date
her? “Why?”

He took a while to answer, and every second seemed to stretch into a minute. His gaze took a leisurely stroll over every feature of her face, lingering at her mouth, before he finally answered. “I’ve never met a vampire before. Maybe I’m…curious.”

Or a suicidal lunatic. “I can’t do dinner this Friday. I have a show that night.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can manage to stay up late and meet me afterwards.”

To be alone with him… “And if I refuse?”

He shrugged. “Do your fellow dancers know your little secret?”

No. He wouldn’t. She stayed silent, unwilling to lie or tell the truth.

He smiled. “Didn’t think so.” Abruptly he turned and strode toward the door. “See you Friday night. My home address is in the telephone book.”

She waited until she heard the building’s front door swing shut behind him before she dared to take a breath again. “Oh Lord. What do I do now?”

She wouldn’t go of course. No way could she be alone with him at his house. What if the crazy pull of his scent made her lose control? She’d never bitten a single person, had vowed that she never would. No human had tempted her to since she took care of the craving with her weekly blood transfusions. But something about this particular human made her want to throw out every vow, every last scrap of her humanity.

If she didn’t go, though…

She remembered the hard shine in his eyes. Yes, he wouldn’t hesitate to reveal her secret. And she couldn’t take that risk. If her fellow dancers learned what she was, they would become scared of her. Maybe not at first, but over time, they’d start to wonder just how much she was in control of herself. Eventually, no one would want to work with her. And word would spread. Even if she managed to get a position with another dance company, it wouldn’t take long for everyone in the dance business to hear the news.

Her life as a dancer would be over. And with it would go her last reason to continue this farce of an existence.

Chapter 6

Conor

B
y Friday, Conor still hadn’t figured out how warning off Lorena had turned into asking her for a date. Maybe it was her vampire charms altering his rational thoughts, sucking him in so she could suck down his blood. He tried to tell himself that it was simply a desire to learn more about the enemy, repeating this like a mantra all week. He even went so far as to put up a few tests around his house for her to support this flimsy excuse.

But the truth was…he wanted to see her again.

He heard a car pull into the driveway and park, then the engine cut off. She was here. He made his steps slow and casual as he headed for the front door. When he opened it, he found it was Lorena, all right. And she was trapped on the cement driveway, a confused frown on her face.

So the vampire wards worked after all. Good to know. He waved a hand and muttered the words necessary to remove the wards, then called out, “Glad to see you came after all.”

She took a tentative step onto the grass, then another, paused, then continued across the yard still frowning.

“Vampire wards,” he explained when she was a few steps away. He didn’t miss the way her gaze flicked left and right, checking to see if anyone had heard him. She must be really worried about her secret getting out. Also good to know.

He stepped to the side to allow her past into his house. She didn’t falter at the threshold, proof that a vampire did not need permission to enter one’s home after all. But inside the foyer, her head snapped to the left and she froze. She must have seen the candlelight in the dining room.

He led the way in the opposite direction into the den. “Feel free to take a seat.” While she got comfortable on the couch, he went to the bar and pulled out two wine glasses. “Red or white wine? Or do vamps drink?”

Her eyes narrowed, but to her credit, she showed no other reaction to the baiting. “Red is fine, thank you.”

She seemed in perfect control. Was she an older vampire and used to the craving by now? What would it take to snap her self-imposed restraints? Lost in thought, he almost didn’t notice when his fingers brushed hers as he handed her a glass. Then he froze. “Your hand…it’s warm.”

A hint of pink flushed her cheeks, also intriguing. He hadn’t realized vampires could blush. “I had a transfusion this afternoon.”

“A transfusion, huh? Is that what your kind call it?” He sat down, gratified to see the snap in her gaze.

“First off, there’s no need to be rude. I don’t go around calling humans ‘your kind’. Do me the same courtesy of respect please.”

She had bite in other ways too. Nice. “Okay. Point taken. I’ll try to refrain from using such terms as murderers, predators, blood suckers, monsters, or the odious ‘your kind’.”

She took a long moment to respond, her silver gaze locked onto his. Finally she said, “What do you want from me?”

“To get to know you,” he replied without thinking then realized it was true. For whatever reason, he wanted to know more about her. And maybe not just about the vampire side. “I grew up hearing stories about how vampires were the enemy. But until you, I’ve never even seen one in person.”

“And how are you enjoying the freak show now?”

Oh, she was a snappy little thing. He chuckled. “I wouldn’t call it a freak show. But you do intrigue me. Though if discussing your…situation is too uncomfortable for you, I’m sure we could find other things to talk about instead.”

She twirled the wine in her glass for a few seconds. “No. It’s…okay. Just strange for me. I’ve never talked about it with anyone.”

“Not even your family?”

She shook her head.

“Why not?”

“The obvious reasons, I suppose. Fear of disappointing them, or making them afraid of me. Fear of losing their love. Maybe if I’d chosen to become a vampire, I wouldn’t care what they thought. But I was attacked one night after rehearsals and…” She spread her hands as if to say “and here we are”.

“So when you see your family…?”

“I pretend, of course. Just like with everyone else.”

“Always acting, huh?”

Her gaze shot up to meet his, her eyes defiant. “No, not always. At least, not while I’m on stage. Ironic, isn’t it? The show becomes the reality, the reality becomes the show.” Sighing, she took a long drink of her wine then leaned back into the corner of the couch. “Anything else you want to ask?”

He could almost see the walls surrounding her emotions. What would it take to get through them? “Oh, I don’t think I’ll run out of things to wonder about you for a long time.” And just like that, the awareness between them was back and stronger than ever, an almost tangible presence that thickened the air and made it hard to breathe. She grew still, staring at him, not breathing at all.

He found himself leaning in toward her. What the hell? Her vampire charms must be drawing him in again. Growling out a sigh of irritation, he stood up. “Perhaps we should eat now.”

She rose to her feet, and he couldn’t tell if her fluid grace came from being a dancer or one of the undead.

Get a grip on yourself,
he thought as he led her across the hall toward the dining room. But at the arched doorway, he heard her footsteps stop. He turned back. “Do vampires eat human food?”

Her gaze seemed transfixed on the table. “Not really. But I can watch you.” The word came out slowly, as if she weren’t sure.

“Then would you mind having a seat at the table?”

She didn’t move.

“Lorena?”

“Hmm?” Her gaze jerked back to him. “Oh. Yes. Of course.” She took two shuffling steps closer to the table then stopped again.

He glanced at the table and nearly cursed out loud. The candles. He’d completely forgotten. At the time, he’d lit them thinking it would be a good way to learn her weaknesses, see if she really was afraid of fire. Now he was the one afraid, worried he might be driving her away.

Taking a deep breath, he closed the distance between them. “If you want, I can put the fire out.”

“No, I…” She stared at the fire a moment longer then blinked as if waking up. “I’m fine. We should eat.”

But the firelight flickering over her pale, smooth skin made him think of doing a hell of a lot of other things besides eating. Carefully he reached out to take one of her hands, surprised yet again by her warmth when last night touching her had been truly like touching marble. A chuckle slipped out of him.

That got her attention. “What?”

“I keep getting surprised by how warm you are today. And then I realize how odd that is, expecting your skin to be cold in the first place.”

One corner of her mouth twitched.

“So…shall we?” He would let her decide. He’d already pushed her enough just getting her to come here tonight.

Once again, she stared at the candlelight, but at least she walked toward the table, however reluctantly. But when they reached the table where he should be holding out her chair for her, he found himself unable to let go of her hand. His thumb drew a slow circle over the base of her thumb, amazed by the smoothness of her skin, and how such a graceful hand could probably crush him. She continued to stare at the fire, but a corner of her mouth lifted into a small half smile, as if she enjoyed his touch.

“Are you afraid of the fire?” he murmured.

“Wouldn’t you be? So little can hurt us, much less kill us. And yet it’s tempting to touch the fire, see if it really will burn me. And another part of me is screaming at me to run away.”

“So if someone threatened you with fire, you’d listen to them? Do what they said?”

“Depends on what they wanted and if it was a reasonable request.”

He almost laughed at that, but what he had to ask was too important for humor right now. He had a duty, as both a father and a descendant of The Clann, regardless of what his body wanted. “What if that request was for you to stay away from all children?”