IM02 - Hunters & Prey (2 page)

A very groggy-looking Lysander rolled over to face me.

I looked into his sleepy eyes, allowing myself to feel the warmth—the connection between us. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

His face always looked so angelic among the sheets. I felt safe with Lysander. He was my guardian, my teacher, and my lover.

“Santino again? I thought you had finally escaped those dreams,” he said, yawning as he stretched out his muscular arms. My midday waking had become routine for the last few months. I’d woken him up too many times with these daymares.

“Yeah. I still can’t get the memory out of my head. What if he did survive? What if he is gaining strength?”

He sat up next to me. His dark chocolate-colored hair, messy from sleep, fell haphazardly around his pale face, highlighting his beautiful blue-gray eyes. The sheet fell to his waist, allowing for a full view of the defined ridges of his chest, corded arms, and broad shoulders. He reached up and gently stroked my face with a cool hand, tracing his thumb over my lips.

“Alyssa, please. We have had this conversation too many times.” He gazed at me imploringly, begging me to go back to sleep. “Even if Santino is still out there, he is weak. The fire almost killed me. You and the Peregrinus brought me back with your blood. Santino wouldn’t have that luxury. He will take months, if not years, feeding on the blood of animals to heal back to full strength again.”

“Why do I keep dreaming about him? Why can’t I get him out of my head?” I fisted my hands at my side, balling up bed sheets.

“You’ve had very traumatic experiences.” His voice was soft and soothing. “It is normal for there to be some after-effects.”

“It’s not only that, I saw…”

He put an arm around me and pulled me close. I relaxed a little, enjoying the feel of his strong arms. Nuzzling into his chest, I listened to his heart. It beat in a slow, peaceful rhythm. I wanted to settle down, to lie there enjoying the comfort and pleasure of being close to Lysander. But the thought wouldn’t leave my head.

The words spilled from my mouth before I could form cohesive thoughts. “I saw a man. Last night. He looked exactly like Santino. I was hunting.”

“It’s only natural that your mind is focusing on Santino.” Lysander’s voice remained soft, as smooth as velvet and as peaceful as a lullaby. He gently stroked my arm. “But you must trust me. If he is out there, he is too weak to hurt us.”

What if he isn’t?
I shook my head.

Please relax, Alyssa
. His voice was a whisper in my mind.

“Lysander, get out of my head,” I warned.

I still hadn’t mastered completely how to close off my mind. Any time I was emotional, about anything, I lost all control. Lysander knew this and usually pretended to avoid eavesdropping, but I knew he could listen in to my inner monologue at will. At well over two thousand years old, it was only natural for him to use his mental abilities. They were as common to him as a reflex.

“Alyssa, I do not need to listen to your thoughts to know you aren’t letting this go. I can feel your tension. And I can see it in your frightened face.”

I sighed. I needed him to take my concerns more seriously, but the fact that I was so young, so new to this life, worked against me. Lysander, as well as the others, though loving as family, tended to regard me as naive and inexperienced. They had centuries of life behind them, and at twenty-five, I was no more than a child in their eyes.

“Call it intuition or whatever. I just feel like these terrible dreams are a warning. I saw him. I know I did. Santino is still out there and stronger than we think.”

Lysander let out small groan. “What would you have us do then? We cannot fight a ghost, a dream, or a figment of your imagination.”

His patronizing tone aggravated me. “I don’t know,” I said through gritted teeth.

“Alyssa, my treasure.” He softened his voice. “I did not mean to offend. I just do not think Santino is as much of a concern as you are making him.”

I buried my head into his neck, absorbing the slow pulsing of his veins against my lips. For a brief moment, my thoughts turned to the feeling of ecstasy and need building inside me. I wanted a taste of Lysander’s blood. I licked at my fangs, focusing on that want, but the thought of Santino would not escape my mind.

“I just can’t shake this feeling. And you’re not helping by making light of my concerns.”

“You are my little trouble maker.” He sighed. “You seem to draw in problematic situations and make things more than they are. I only think—”

“Is that how you think of me? As a magnet for trouble?” I tried to pull away from his body, but his arm held me tight.

He looked down, finding my sad eyes. “Would it make you feel better if I said that you have a penchant for making life more interesting?” He gave me a boyish grin. “Or, that your knack for finding danger has brought adventure back into my life?” His eyes narrowed slightly as if he was studying my face, no doubt hoping his back pedaling was working.

It wasn’t.

I locked my eyes on his, trying to show him the worry I felt, willing my fear and the memory of my previous encounter to flow from me like a wave into his mind.

The corners of his lips dropped. His expression became serious. “Would it make you feel any better if we met with the Peregrinus about this? Maybe in counsel we can come up with an answer to your fears.”

That might be a good idea.

I had avoided telling any of them of my dreams or my encounter with the man who looked like Santino for fear of inciting more worry, but the wisdom of the four remaining members of the clan might prove helpful.

“Yes.” I smiled as I relaxed and leaned into Lysander’s chest. “Maybe they’ll know what to do.”

“Then we will speak to them this evening.” His hand glided up and down my arm. “Now, can we try to go back to sleep? Dusk is not for quite a while.”

“You can.” I shook my head. “I’m not sure I can get back to sleep. My mind is stuck on Santino. It’s almost like he is the boogeyman come back to haunt me.”

“Perhaps I can distract you from these fears.” Lysander’s voice carried an air of mischievousness. He tilted his head away, exposing his neck. The pulsing vein under his skin enticed me. He reached a hand up to the back of my neck and gently pulled me in closer—a silent invitation.

I opened my mouth against his skin and licked at his pulse. A low growl rumbled in his chest. I swirled my tongue on his neck, enjoying his salty taste before I sank my teeth in.

I loved the sensation that accompanied drinking Lysander’s blood: the instantaneous head rush, the wild energy, and the cool tingling as it flowed down my throat. His blood was liquid euphoria, and since turning me, he shared it with me freely whenever I wished.

Ahh, yes, this is a pleasant distraction.

The thick sweet elixir washed down my throat. I let out a slight moan. My heart beat faster, pushing his powerful blood through my veins. It warmed me, filling my being with pleasure.

I pulled back gently from his neck and looked into his hypnotic eyes. The twilight blue-gray pools called out to me. Locking on to me with their pull, they compelled me and drew me to Lysander. A foggy sensation rolled into my head.

Ohh, You’re not playing fair, Lysander
.

His strength and practice in the mental arts showed as the blissful dizziness set in. I felt the lust he willed on me. Erotic images played in my head. Desire ignited inside me, heating my blood in anticipation of his kiss. He temporarily derailed the fearful thoughts that had gridlocked my mind with worry. All I could think of was Lysander. I needed him. I wanted him. All of him.

He laid me down gently on the pillows and towered over me before pressing his soft lips to mine. His tongue dipped into my mouth and playfully licked at my fangs.

The gentle pressure of his body against mine reminded me of pleasures of evenings past. I felt the stiff evidence of his desire pressed against my thigh. He nudged his hips forward, rubbing his thickness against me, hinting at his plans.

His hand trailed down my body. With feather-soft touches, he tickled and teased my bare skin. Each touch caused an eruption of gooseflesh, making me hot and ready for more.

“Forget Santino. Wouldn’t you rather think of this?” His voice was magic, deep and husky with need.

I wanted to concentrate on Lysander. I loved his hands on my body, touching, exploring, teasing; but the mention of Santino’s name broke his spell over me.

How quickly could he heal from animal blood?

Lysander nibbled at my ear and trailed slow kisses down my neck. My body reacted to his touch. Warmth spread between my thighs, my breast ached, and my nipples hardened to pebbles as he teased me. But my brain locked onto questions of Santino.

What if he found other vampires to feed on?

I felt the quick pinch of Lysander’s teeth, sinking into my breast, followed by the warm caress of his velvety tongue, lapping at my blood.

What if there are more Saints out there than we expected?

Lysander groaned loudly, then suddenly stopped and sat up. Disappointment filled his eyes as he stared down on me. “You’re not into this today, are you?”

“Huh? What?” His words brought me back into reality.

He let out a loud breath and licked a spot of blood from the corner of his mouth.

“Look into my eyes, Alyssa. Let me take you away from these thoughts.”

“I can’t. I can’t let this go. I feel like this is a warning somehow. I can’t ignore it.”

Lysander sighed and collapsed next to me. He jerked the sheet over his body as he rolled over.

“I’m sorry.” I rolled to face him.

“Well, I will say this. Your mind is getting stronger. You have never broken my control before.” The magic had left his voice.

I never wanted to.
“I wish I could say it was all my doing. I wasn’t actively blocking you. It’s just, you said his name and I snapped back into reality.”

A puzzled look marked Lysander face. His eyes narrowed as he turned to me. “Really? You weren’t trying to block me?”

Blood rush to my cheeks. “No, I was enjoying what you were doing.”

Lysander’s mental control had been unbreakable in the past. He had tried to show me how to block him, but I had never been fully capable. I could block my thoughts well enough, but when it came to full control, I still had a lot to learn. He had told me it was because I was so young. As vampires age, our power increases. Someday I would be strong enough to fend off an attack from an ancient like him, but that could be centuries away.

He rolled toward me. “We will talk with the clan tonight. I can see that we will not get past this worry of Santino.” I could hear the tension in his voice.

“Thank you,” I said. I laid my head on his chest, listening for the gentle beating of his heart.

“Try to sleep then. There is not much to do till sundown.”

Lysander wrapped his arms around me and gave a small squeeze.

Sleep was probably best, but I didn’t know if it would come. I feared the memory; the daymare would return the moment I drifted back into unconsciousness.

Lysander’s breathing became shallow.
I wish I could sleep like that again.
Why is he not worried? How can he sleep so soundly?

I rolled free of his grasp, easing myself out of bed. It would do no good to lie here awake, awaiting dusk. I knew sleep was not going to come. Throwing on some jeans, a bra, and a small red tank top, I left Lysander to sleep peacefully.

My life as a newborn vampire was probably not what most would consider standard. I doubted most newbies ever had to contend with the rage of a two-thousand year old jealous vampire like Kallisto or the hunters of Acta Sanctorum within a month of their turning. I’d done both and lived to talk about it. I should probably have counted my blessings and trusted that the older vampires knew what was best. Still, I couldn’t help but listen to my intuition. Something was definitely wrong, and I had the sneaking suspicion it was about to come back to bite us all.

CHAPTER 2

*****

T
he day dragged on while I attempted, unsuccessfully, to keep myself occupied. Time moves slowly when you’re trapped. Daylight is no friend to vampires, and the Las Vegas desert is not known for lending itself to many overcast days.

I knew very well the danger of leaving the house during the daytime hours. I had already experienced once, the blinding effects of direct light on my photosensitive eyes. The sun’s rays were overpowering. Light stung me, like white hot pokers being shoved through my skull. Even when I could force my eyes open, through the pain, focusing was near impossible. Light bathed everything in white-wash creating an indistinguishable haze all around me.

Couple all of that with an almost immediate blistering sunburn, and there was plenty to make sure I would never want to venture outside again during the day. All I could do was sit and keep busy, waiting for dusk.