His Dark Embrace (12 page)
Chapter 10
From his vantage point at the corner across from the McNamara house, Girard Desmarais watched the well-dressed young man get into his car and drive away. Girard had been keeping an eye on the McNamara house for the last two days and in that time, McNamara’s granddaughter had seen only two people—this young man, and the vampire, Kaiden Thorne.
The young man was of no consequence. But the vampire. . . Girard braced his hand against the side of a brick wall. He had no doubt the bloodsucker was searching for the same information he was. He lifted a hand to his cheek, his fingertips tracing the ugly scar that ran from his right cheekbone to his jaw and continued down the side of his neck, a souvenir from his encounter with Kaiden Thorne some thirty years ago.
Girard grimaced at the memory. He had been past his prime back then, but still a hunter without equal. He had pursued Thorne for almost three years before he finally tracked him down. The vampire had been living in Strasbourg, France, at the time. It had been midafternoon of a warm, sunny day when Girard slipped into the vampire’s lair. He had discovered the bloodsucker’s coffin in the basement of a two-story apartment. Jubilant to have found his quarry after such a long time, Girard had moved soundlessly across the floor, a hawthorn stake in one hand, his favorite mallet in the other. To this day, he still didn’t know what had roused the vampire. One minute, his prey had been as still and silent as death, the next, the creature had leaped out of the casket, his eyes blazing red, his lips peeled back to reveal his fangs.
Man and vampire had come together in a rush. To Girard’s astonishment, the stake, which had served him well for decades, had proved to be a feeble weapon against the ancient vampire’s fangs and wickedly sharp nails.
Girard stroked his cheek again. They had fought for what seemed like hours. Finally, Girard had managed to drive the stake into the vampire’s chest. He had known a brief moment of victory as Thorne reeled backward, then sank to the ground. Girard’s triumph had been short-lived when he realized that he had missed the vampire’s heart.
Covered with deep bites and scratches, Girard had decided retreat was the better part of valor and escaped into the sunlight.
Turning away from the house, he walked back to where he had left his car. Sliding behind the wheel, he turned the key in the ignition and pulled away from the curb.
He had met Paddy McNamara many years after his ill-fated encounter with Kaiden Thorne. Paddy had been experimenting with a longevity potion and had been looking for a few men willing to test it. Girard had been in his late fifties at the time. The potion had failed, but Girard had kept in touch with McNamara. Several years later, Paddy had asked Girard if he would be willing to test another potion. When Girard asked what the potion was for, Paddy had mumbled something about a tonic similar to the first one and explained he was creating it specifically for a client who had an aversion to the sun.
After months of experimentation, a few careful questions, and some subtle snooping in Paddy’s lab, Girard had come to the conclusion that the intended recipient of the potion was a vampire; a slip of the lip by McNamara revealed that the vampire was Kaiden Thorne. The second thing, and perhaps the most important, was the realization that the new potion restored Girard’s health and vigor until he was as strong and fit as he had been at twenty-five.
He had spent the last two years trying to find Thorne again, but to no avail. On his last visit to McNamara, Girard had learned that the potion he had come to rely on had originally been concocted for Thorne. When Girard had demanded a copy of the formula, Paddy had refused.
And now Paddy was dead and gone, and the formula’s secret ingredient with him.
Girard loosed a string of profanity as he pulled into the hotel parking lot. Killing the engine, he stared into the distance. He couldn’t go after Thorne now, not in his present, weakened condition.
Girard rubbed his scarred cheek thoughtfully. He needed that missing component, and he needed it now, before he got any older, any weaker.
Before the bloodsucker moved on.
Chapter 11
Thorne woke with the setting of the sun. After showering and dressing, he glanced out the front window, debating the wisdom of going to see Skylynn before he fed, only then noticing that the grass in his front yard needed cutting badly.
He blew out a sigh of regret as he realized his experience working in the yard during the day was over. He had enjoyed being able to mow the lawn in the afternoon. He had enjoyed the smell of fresh cut grass, the feel of it beneath his bare feet, the heat of the sun on his back and shoulders. Mowing the yard at night was just a chore. Still, it needed to be done and he had nothing better to do.
Going into the backyard, he got the lawn mower out of the shed. He quickly mowed the backyard, then went out to the front.
He was about to start the mower again when a familiar odor drifted his way. Desmarais! Striding to the sidewalk, Thorne lifted his head to scent the wind. Desmarais, here?
The lawn forgotten, Thorne hurried across the street and knocked on Sky’s door, softly at first, and then with more urgency.
His tension eased when he heard her voice calling, “All right, all right, I’m coming!”
She opened the door a moment later. “Kaiden! You don’t have to break down the door, you know ...” she said, a smile teasing her lips. And then, seeing the worried expression on his face, she sobered. “Is something wrong?”
A deep breath told him Desmarais hadn’t been in the house. With a shake of his head, he murmured, “Sorry.”
She looked up at him curiously. “So, what’s going on?”
He glanced past her into the entryway. “Has anyone come by to see you today?”
“Are you checking up on me?”
“Yes. No.” He swore under his breath. “Just answer me.”
“My old boyfriend was here a little while ago,” she replied, and wondered again why seeing Harry made her feel guilty. After all, she was free to see anyone she liked.
“Is that right?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Did you kiss and make up?”
“Of course not. What’s this all about?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Exasperated, she planted her fists on her hips and glared up at him. “Nothing? You practically break down my door over nothing?” She poked him in the chest with her forefinger. “I. Don’t. Think. So.”
“All right, it’s like this. You remember that monk I told you about? I think he’s here, in town.”
She stared up at him, her eyes wide, and then she stepped out onto the porch and glanced up and down the street. “Are you talking about the man who broke into the lab? Did you see him?”
“Not exactly, but I know he was here, and not long ago.”
“If you didn’t see him ... ?”
“He was here.” Girard Desmarais’ scent wasn’t something Thorne was likely to forget or mistake for anyone else’s.
“But ... why would he come here again? He’s got the formula.”
“I don’t know,” Thorne remarked thoughtfully. But he had a pretty good idea. Maybe he wasn’t the only one searching for that elusive missing ingredient. Maybe Desmarais needed it, too. But why? What possible use could a mortal have for McNamara’s potion?
And where was Desmarais now?
Girard cursed softly as he closed and locked the door to his hotel room. A short walk from the elevator to his room had him panting as if he had just run a marathon. It was hell to get old.
Shivering, he pulled a blanket from the bed and wrapped it around his shoulders, then slumped in the chair by the window. He was always cold now, his bones aching. Since using the last of the potion, he seemed to be aging faster than normal. True, he wasn’t a young man anymore. Now in his seventies, he was well past the age when most men retired and settled down, but these last few days he had felt far older than his years. As for retiring, that was something he couldn’t do until he had put a stake through Kaiden Thorne’s black heart and taken his head.
Thorne. The vampire was over four hundred years old and still as strong as an ox.
Girard bolted upright. Of course! Why hadn’t he thought of it before? Mortals grew weaker as they aged but not vampires. They grew stronger with every passing year.
Girard snorted in disgust. Why was he wasting time worrying about McNamara’s potion? Even if he found the missing ingredient and managed to recreate the potion, it wouldn’t keep him alive forever. Sure, it might extend his life and restore his vigor for another ten or twenty years, but he was bound to die eventually. But vampires ... ah, vampires didn’t grow old and weak. And if they were careful, they never died.
What if he became a vampire?
Girard shook his head, stunned by the direction his thoughts were taking. Vampires were loathsome creatures, yet he couldn’t help envying them their vigor and longevity. What he was thinking was tantamount to treason. He was a slayer, descended from a long line of hunters. And yet the hunters grew old and died while the vampires remained.
Of course, the answer was so clear, he was amazed he hadn’t thought of it sooner. If he became one of the Undead, he could hunt vampires forever.
He laughed out loud as inspiration washed over him.
He didn’t need the damn formula.
He needed a vampire.
Chapter 12
Sky pulled a chair up to the front room window, then sat down, her elbows braced on the sill, and watched Kaiden mow the lawn. Maybe she was crazy, but she loved watching him. There had been a time, years ago, when he had always mowed his yard at night. She had never figured out why, and then, for no reason she could discern, he stopped cutting the grass in the dark and did it during the day, like everyone else. And now he was mowing the lawn in the dark again. Why?
Earlier, she had been upset when Thorne told her the man in the gray cloak—Desmarais—had been nearby. Of course, enigmatic creature that he was, Thorne hadn’t explained how he had come by that information. He had, however, assured her that the monk was gone and that she had nothing to worry about. As much as she wanted to believe him, it hadn’t kept her from making sure all the doors and windows were locked and all the curtains fully drawn save for the one she was now peeking through.
It was soothing, somehow, sitting there watching Kaiden cut the grass. Bathed in silver moonlight, he looked like some kind of otherworldly creature and she imagined that he was a humanoid version of E.T., a tall, dark, sexy alien being from some distant planet who had inadvertently been left behind and had had to learn to adapt to life on Earth.
She laughed softly, amused by the whimsical turn of her thoughts. Otherworldly, indeed. And yet, there was something inherently mysterious about Kaiden that didn’t make her fantastical thoughts seem all that far-fetched.
Feeling the need to look into his eyes, to hear her name on his lips, she decided he needed a cup of coffee to warm him up. It would give her the perfect excuse to go over there. After all, it was cold outside.
Hurrying into the kitchen, she quickly poured him a cup of hot coffee, added milk and a heaping teaspoon of sugar, and carried it across the street.
He looked up, surprised, when she approached him. “Sky! What are you doing here?”
“It’s cold. You’re working hard.” She shrugged as she offered him the cup. “I thought you could use this.”
“Thanks.” Thorne kept his features carefully impassive. Only days ago, he had loved the strong smell of freshly brewed coffee. Now, it was all he could do not to grimace with distaste. Drinking it was out of the question. “I think I’ll finish the yard first, if you don’t mind.”
“No, of course not.” She smiled up at him. “Maybe I’ll drink this cup and bring you a fresh one later.”
“Good idea.” He returned the mug, wondering how he could refuse the next cup without hurting her feelings.
“Mind if I stay and watch?”
“Not at all,” he said with a teasing grin, “but I’d have to charge admission.” He had sensed her watching him before he had looked across the street and glimpsed her in the window. “You might be more comfortable watching from the window. Like you said, it’s cold out here.” For her, anyway. The cold no longer bothered him.
Sky felt a rush of heat climb up her neck to her cheeks. How had he known? She had done her best to stay out of sight.
A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Next time turn the lights off behind you,” he suggested, and her humiliation was complete.
“I’ll just go crawl in a hole now,” she said, her gaze sliding away from his.
“Don’t go,” Thorne said, chuckling. “I’m about through here anyway. Instead of coffee, why don’t you come in for a glass of wine?”
“Sounds wonderful,” she said, thinking that her eager acceptance was just one more sign of how badly smitten she was with Kaiden.
While he parked the mower alongside the garage, she poured the coffee into the gutter, then followed Kaiden into the house and took a seat on the sofa while he filled two glasses with wine. It was becoming a habit, she thought, sharing a glass of port with Kaiden, a habit she thoroughly enjoyed.
Sky placed her empty cup on the end table, smiled when Kaiden handed her a glass, then joined her on the sofa. She glanced at him, then looked away. Something was different about him. She studied him surreptitiously for a few moments, and then frowned. He looked as handsome and virile as always, and yet, more so. His hair looked thicker, blacker, his voice seemed deeper, more resonant. How was that possible?
“Something wrong?” he asked.
“No,” she said quickly, hating the quaver in her voice. “Why should anything be wrong?”
He cocked his head to the side, his eyes narrowing.
Unable to think of anything to say, Sky sipped her wine, wondering why she suddenly felt on edge, like a rabbit who had stumbled into a lion’s den.
Thorne leaned back against the sofa, his mind brushing hers. It took only a moment to realize what was bothering her. His preternatural powers had returned in full. Without realizing it, her subconscious had sensed the change in him, the subtle alterations in his appearance, the inherent glamour that was part of being a vampire. She was also wondering why he had started mowing the yard after dark again. In the summer, he could have used the heat as an excuse, but it was late fall now and the days and nights were cool.
“More wine?” he asked.
“Yes, please.” Sky worried her lower lip with her teeth as he refilled her glass. Maybe she was imagining things.
Thorne resumed his seat. Her nearness tempted him, her blood sang to him. The fact that she had once had a crush on him was flattering. Knowing that she wanted him now was more exhilarating than the wine.
“Skylynn.”
When she looked up at him, he caught and held her gaze with his. Taking the glass from her hand, he set it on the end table beside his own.
Holding out his hand, he murmured, “Come to me, Sky.”
She scooted closer to him without question, her gaze slightly unfocused.
He kissed her, his lips gentle on hers, and then kissed her again. The taste of the wine that lingered on her sweet lips was a potent combination. He stroked her back with one hand while the other slid up into her hair.
“Ah, Sky, what am I to do with you?”
Trapped in the web of his gaze, she remained pliant in his embrace. At his command, she closed her eyes and slept.
Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to the pulse beating slow and steady in the hollow of her throat and then, unable to resist, he ran his tongue along the side of her neck, just below her ear.
Filled with soul-deep regret for what he was about to do, he murmured, “Forgive me,” and then he took that which he so desperately craved.
Sweet. Warm. Ambrosia for a starving man.
It required every ounce of willpower he possessed to draw back. He brushed a wisp of hair from her cheek, wondering if he dared risk taking one more taste.
He was still debating when her eyelids fluttered open. She stared up at him, her expression confused. “What happened?”
Thorne frowned. No one had ever roused before he’d awakened them. “You fell asleep.”
“I did?” Easing out of his arms, she blinked several times. “That wine must be stronger than I thought. What time is it?”
“A little after ten.”
“I should go home.” She levered herself off the sofa, then swayed unsteadily.
Thorne rose quickly, one arm snaking around her waist to steady her.
After easing her onto the sofa again, he thrust one of the wineglasses into her hand. “Drink this.”
“Hair of the dog?” she murmured with a wry grin.
“Something like that. Just drink it.”
She took several sips, her gaze fixed on his face, her brow furrowed.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I had the weirdest dream.”
“Oh?” He lifted one brow. “Care to share it?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. It was silly.”
“I could use a good laugh,” he muttered, sitting on the arm of the sofa.
She blinked several times, then lifted her shoulders and let them fall. “I dreamed you were a vampire.”
She had expected him to laugh; instead, he looked at her sharply. “Go on.”
“It was such a strange dream.” She ran her hand along the side of her neck. “Do you remember that Halloween when I came trick-or-treating at your house after Sam told me you were a vampire? I must have been thinking about that before I fell asleep.”
He nodded. “That would explain it.”
“I guess so,” she agreed, and then frowned. “It seemed so real when you bit me. Things like that aren’t supposed to hurt in a dream.”
“And it hurt when your dream vampire bit you?”
“Not exactly.” She stared at him, a faint smile playing over her lips. “You’re beautiful, you know.” She laughed softly, her gaze sliding away from his as she set the glass aside. “I know the preferred word is
handsome,
but ...” She shrugged. “I had such a crush on you when I was a teenager.”
handsome,
but ...” She shrugged. “I had such a crush on you when I was a teenager.”
He grinned inwardly, remembering the notebook covered with red hearts.
“While my girlfriends were fantasizing about Orlando Bloom and Johnny Depp, I daydreamed about making love to you.” She gazed into his eyes, deep dark eyes, while she ran her fingertips along the line of his jaw.
“If you keep looking at me like that, we’re going to make love for real,” he said, his voice tight. “Right here, right now.”
“I’d like that.”
He stared at her, wondering if it was the wine making her so bold. He could think of a hundred reasons why making love to Skylynn would be a bad idea, but none of them seemed to matter, not when she was so close, so willing. He had waited such a long time for this moment.
He slid down onto the sofa beside her, his arm wrapping around her shoulders. She leaned into him and then, cupping his face in her hands, she pressed her lips to his, ever so gently. Her lips were warm, her tongue sweet with the taste of the wine. The scent of musk rose from her heated skin. Her hair carried the lingering fragrance of sunshine and strawberry shampoo.
With a low growl, he swept her into his arms and carried her swiftly up the winding staircase and down the carpeted hallway to the master bedroom. A thought lit a fire in the hearth. Cradling her to his chest with one arm, he used his free hand to pull down the covers on the bed, then lowered her onto the mattress.
His gaze met hers, one brow arched as he gave her one last chance to change her mind. When she didn’t say anything, he stripped down to his briefs, then waited to see if her wine-induced courage would desert her.
Sky’s gaze moved over him. Mercy, but he was gorgeous. She had seen him without his shirt before, seen him in nothing but a pair of trunks, but this was different. Never before had she realized how broad his shoulders were, or how muscular he was. He gave new meaning to the words
six-pack abs
. The black briefs he wore did nothing to disguise his burgeoning desire.
six-pack abs
. The black briefs he wore did nothing to disguise his burgeoning desire.
Thorne watched as Sky rose to her knees and began to undress, her cheeks growing pinker by the minute. He thought it odd that she was embarrassed. After all, she had been married once, however briefly. He wondered if her husband had been her first lover and felt an unmistakable rush of jealousy at the thought of another man holding her, touching her.
She was beautiful, more beautiful than any woman he had ever known. His yearning grew stronger, hotter, with each newly revealed expanse of satiny skin.
When she finished undressing, she quickly slid under the covers. “Are you going to stand there all night? It’s lonely in this big old bed.”
She didn’t have to ask him twice. Removing his briefs, he joined her under the covers and drew her into his arms.
“I’ve waited a long time for this,” she murmured, snuggling against him.
“Not as long as I have.”
She smiled up at him. “I never thought this would happen.” Her hands slid over his skin, measuring the width of his shoulders before sliding down his arms. She smiled when he flexed his biceps.
Thorne drew her closer, molding her body to his. She was soft, supple, her skin smooth, warm against the coolness of his own. He stroked her lightly from shoulder to thigh, caressing each curve, lingering on the swell of her breasts, the smooth contours of her hips. Every stroke, every caress, aroused his desire and his hunger. He told himself to go slow. He wasn’t yet in full control of his vampire nature; if he wasn’t careful, he was liable to go too far, take too much, but with each kiss, his self-control grew weaker, his insatiable hunger stronger.
With a low growl, he rose over her, his only thought to satisfy his desire, to quench his raging thirst.
Caught up in the sheer ecstasy of Kaiden’s caresses, Sky writhed beneath him, wanting to be closer, closer. She basked in the touch of his hands, reveled in his kisses, which were sometimes sweet and tender and sometimes more ardent.
She had been a virgin when she’d married Nick. With no one to compare him to, she had assumed that all men made love the way her husband did. He had rarely satisfied her, but, being inexperienced, she had blamed herself for the lack of fire in their relationship. And so had Nick. There had been no one in her bed since her divorce.
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