Immortal Obsession (16 page)

“Turn around. Let me look at you.” He seemed to smile with his eyes.

She liked the feeling of him devouring her with his eyes and she forgot about Thomas and the robbery at the museum. Nothing had prepared her for him. He was all she could think about, and for him she would toss her judgment to the wind. In one fluid vampiric motion, he bent down to pick up her dress as she stepped out of it. He tossed it on the chair before sitting back down in front of her on the bed.

“I would never hurt you, Amanda, despite what I am.”

“I know that, just as I know there is no turning back after tonight.”

He leaned over and ran his hands up her legs.

“Tonight is only the beginning.”

PART FOUR

Chapter Twenty-Two

G
AÉTAN LEAPT EFFORTLESSLY
onto the townhouse roof, remembering a summer night in Paris long after Josette had left him for Christian. He had had other lovers, but Josette had always been special, and he had never forgotten her. She still shared the royal apartment with her husband, Luc, but Christian and Michel were fixtures there, and in the halls of the lesser French nobility.

Gaétan recalled staring up at Josette’s bedroom window and then jumping onto her roof, wondering who was inside and what was happening between them. He remembered seeing Josette wrapped around the eternally beautiful Michel and laughing to himself, thinking that it served Christian right.

Gaétan wondered if Christian had ever known that he was being cuckolded by his best friend. And then there was Luc Delacore, who probably had no idea his wife had been the lover of not one but three vampires. When the child came, he wondered which one of them had fathered her, but as Solange grew, he saw the resemblance to Michel.

How could Christian not see it too?

Now, gently pressing his face up to the glass, his mouth dropped in amazement. He could feel their desire for each other as if it were a tangible thing, ready to burst throughout the room. He watched Christian lying on his bed as Amanda crawled toward him on her knees. His dark eyes never left her face; he reminded Gaétan of a dying man in a desert, looking at a cup of water.

“What are you doing?” Christian whispered, trying to sit up on the bed. He was always the one to take the initiative with his conquests. It aroused him to seduce them while he controlled them.

She crawled on top of him.

“I want to make love to you. Just lie still,” she whispered, kissing his face and his neck.

“You’re so beautiful,” the vampire gasped. He had wanted her for so long and finally she was here with him. It felt surreal. Amanda’s heartbeat soothed him yet he fought the scent of her blood.

As they kissed more passionately, the temptation to take her blood began to cloud his judgment. He told himself that if he tasted her he was no better than Solange or Gaétan in wanting her for their own gains. He loved her and was sworn to protect her. How could he take something from her now, something so powerful yet so forbidden?

Christian tried to clear his head, but he could not fight his lust for her and the pounding of her blood in his head. Pulling her closer on top of him, he felt his own release as he bit into her warm flesh. She moaned as he held her like a child, a trusting child who would die if he did not release her.

At first Christian felt nothing and suddenly it was as if molten lava were coursing through his veins. As he held on to Amanda, the room began to spin. His stomach knotted as something ever so subtle began to happen. Memories of his childhood, his mother, and his youth filled his head. Poignant memories of being mortal—times long forgotten—collided against the vampire he had been for centuries and then melded into one. He was swept away by a euphoria he had never experienced before and did not want to lose.

It’s the blood talking, making me feel my mortal life again.

He ran his hand up her warm body and willed himself to let go of her.

Amanda fell onto the lace blanket, her body pale and glistening with sweat as blood ran down her chest. Her beautiful eyes glazed over as he licked the wounds until they closed over then put the heavy blanket around her.

The townhouse was still, with only the occasional sound of a car passing by to break the silence. The wall sconce lighting was low, leaving most of the living room in shadows. Christian lay sprawled out on the couch in only his jeans, trying to focus on a Stephen King novel; he turned the pages so rapidly that it appeared he was only pretending to read, yet he devoured each word. He had left Amanda upstairs in his room asleep.

Dawn was coming, and for the first time in decades he wished he could push back the sunrise so he could stay with her. After coming downstairs, he had checked his cell phone. He found no more messages from Ross, and the creeping feeling inside him began to turn into panic. Had something happened to the detective? The door opened silently and Michel slipped in, closing it behind him. He sat on the couch across from Christian, crossed one long leg over another, and began to absentmindedly drum his fingers on his boots.

“What is it, Michel?” Christian asked, trying to ignore him. Michel slipped off the chair and slunk over to the windows to peer out into the darkness.

“Nothing,” Michel waved and wandered back to the Hepplewhite table. He attempted to grab a book off the stack, but it slipped out of his hands and crashed onto the table, toppling the rest of the books.

“Merde!” He bent down, picked up the scattered books, and tried to straighten up the piles.

“Would you please sit down?” Christian tried not to raise his voice as he took his eyes from the page.

Michel sauntered back to the chair and sat down again. Christian could sense his agitation. Finally he set his book down.

“So how was the club?”

Michel shrugged. “Oh, you know, the usual coeds and all.”

Christian watched his best friend trying to feign lightheartedness, but he knew Michel was as rattled as he was over Étienne’s disturbing phone call. Making love to Amanda had taken his mind off it only briefly.

“So how was it?”

“It?”

“Come on.” Michel smiled. “You have been pining away for this mortal for years now. Was she everything you imagined her to be?”

“All that and more,” Christian confessed, trying not to smile.

“And you were not tempted by her blood?”

Older vampires needed less blood. It was as if age brought a cessation to the cravings, and at nearly three hundred years old, he and Michel could sustain themselves on very little. He could not bear to tell his friend how Amanda’s blood had called to him and how he had given in; unable to control himself.

“I managed to suppress it, Michel.” He picked up a strand of his hair and began to twirl it around his finger. “If I didn’t, I would be no better than our Parisian friends.”

Michel nodded, and Christian thought he seemed distracted and far away.

“Look, I know hearing from Étienne was startling to say the least, but it was good to hear his voice again.” He tried to sound jovial. “I have not heard from Ross, and I am getting worried for him.”

Michel brought his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.

“They are coming. I can feel it.”

Michel’s seriousness and honesty made Christian’s stomach flip. His usual joking had been replaced by sheer terror. He was scared, almost curled up in a ball on the couch.

“Michel, you have to have faith in us. We can beat them.”

“I felt something near the house tonight. Maybe it’s my paranoia,” Michel stammered. “I don’t know, mon ami.” He ran his hand through his hair, then got up and went to the window. “Don’t you ever wonder if this life has just gotten old and stale? When suddenly faced with my possible demise, I can’t think of one thing that I would miss, except you. Perhaps it is time—”

Christian sat up in a panic. “What are you saying, Michel?”

“That I have lived long enough. Amanda is different, Christian. I see how much you love her. Usually with mortals, their minds cannot comprehend what we are. Oh, they are dazzled by our looks and our power, but their minds cannot truly comprehend our essence. She knows what we are yet she accepts us and she still wants you…just like Josette.”

“It is you who can’t stay away from them,” Christian reminded him. Christian thought Michel seemed unusually philosophical this morning.

“They love the idea of the cinematic vampire, but not the real thing, you know?”

What is the real thing, Michel? Please tell me, for I fear I do not know anymore
.

“I don’t understand, Michel. Sex is the only thing you have ever wanted from mortals; to seduce and then discard them.”

“Seduction is the only thing I can want. There can be nothing more.”

Christian shook his head. “You have never allowed there to be anything more.”

“I hate to quote her, but Gabrielle always said mortals and vampires don’t mix. It always turns out badly. Josette was taken away from you. You don’t know how much longer it would have gone on, Christian.”

Since it seemed to be the night of true confessions, Christian thought he should ask his closest friend if he had slept with Josette or had been in love with her, but he could not bring himself to ask Michel.
Suppose he said yes, then what?

“I suppose I will never know if another vampire would have stolen her from me.”

Michel chuckled. Christian thought it sounded tin-like and hollow in the quiet room. Christian recognized that laughter. All of their kind seemed to acquire it. It happened when their minds finally wrapped around the notion of eternity and the loneliness that became a bitter companion forever.

Christian headed upstairs to check on Amanda one more time. She was wrapped up under the covers, bathed in the predawn light. It felt so odd to have her here in his bed.
How I wish I could curl up next to her.
He sat down on the bed and touched her as if she were made of porcelain and would break.

Her eyes fluttered open. “What time is it?”

“Five
AM
. Time for all good vampires to go to sleep.”

“You look so serious. What’s wrong?”

“It’s almost dawn, Amanda. We’ll talk tomorrow night.”

‘What is tomorrow, Friday?”

He nodded. She grabbed his cold hand. “Why can’t you stay here? What happens to you?”

How could he explain how the darkness came, pushing all thoughts away from him until he just fell into a void that claimed him every day.

He shrugged, his face remaining expressionless. “I die every day.

Sometimes I dream, but usually it’s like I am sucked into a black hole devoid of all color or light. Then I wake once the sun sets.”

The room smelled of sweat and sex, and all he wanted to do was to hold her. It was something he had not done since he was a mortal man. Christian had all but forgotten the comfort of sleeping beside someone.

He held her close to him and whispered in her hair, “I have to go, Amanda.”

“Hurry back,” she whispered.

Christian quietly shut his bedroom door, only to find Michel hovering there.

“I think you need to come up to the roof.”

Once upstairs Christian sniffed the cold air and headed over to the ledge overlooking Fifth Avenue.

“Gaétan?” Michel asked, staying near the door to the roof. “How could he know where we live?”

“I don’t know.” Christian closed his eyes as the warm rays of the sun called to him.
Perhaps I can just stay here and see the sunrise. Oh God, to be mortal again, if only for one day.

Michel grabbed him. “What are you doing? The sun is coming up!”

His best friend dragged him inside just as the sun hit the top of the building.

Chapter Twenty-Three

T
HE AROMA OF
coffee stirred her yet it took a moment to remember where she was and the night before. Rustling at the foot of the bed alarmed her enough to peek out from the covers.

“Good afternoon,” Tony quipped, setting down a steaming carafe of coffee.

She tried to sit up, but felt dizzy. Then she remembered that she was naked and buried herself under the covers again.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Amanda asked and noticed a vase full of white roses and a card on the night table.

“Under orders,” he snapped. “There’s cream, sugar and some pastries.”

“All my favorites,” she replied, studying the tray. The room was awash in muted sunlight. “What time is it?”

“Oh, around two in the afternoon,” he replied, staying near the foot of the bed. “There are some sweaters and jeans over here. Size six foot I presume? Christian asked me to bring some stuff in here for you. He said you couldn’t go home in what you wore last night. It got pretty trashed.”

Amanda felt herself blush as bits and pieces of the night before began to reform in her mind. She decided that Tony was not going to win at whatever game they were playing and so she tried to hold the covers against her chest and sit up at the same time.

“The bathroom’s right through there.” He pointed behind him. “Stay as long as you like. I’m here until sundown if you need anything.”

“Where’s Christian? I mean I know he’s—”

“Come on, I can’t tell you that.” He shrugged as he rolled his eyes. “He asked that you meet him on the museum steps around nine tonight.”

Amanda had to think for a moment what day it was; the last few days had begun to meld into one. Thank goodness she had requested this Friday off. She reminded Cole she was always available by phone in case he needed her. She reached up to brush the hair off her face and felt something on her neck. She noticed Tony watching her.

“Okay.” She glanced at her fingertips, not sure what she was looking for, but feeling something there nonetheless. “Thanks for everything, Tony.”

She thought he smiled as he raced for the door. “I’m here if you need me.”

Once she was sure he was gone, Amanda jumped out of bed and poured herself a cup of coffee in what looked like eighteenth-century china, checked her cell phone for messages, found none and made her way to the bathroom to clean up. The black-and-white floor tiles felt cold on her bare feet. She grabbed the cup of coffee making her way to the bathroom. Most of the room was taken up by a large sunken bathtub lined with bottles of shampoo and various other toiletries. Dark wooden cabinets and a double sink took up another wall. Black towels hung on a brass towel rack, and the typical low lighting, which she was slowly growing accustomed to, gave the room a cozy glow.

Amanda flipped on the tub’s water faucets and tossed in something grainy that smelled great. She guessed it was bath salts, but she was unable to translate the French label. Checking out her neck in the mirror, Amanda noticed two tiny marks on the left side. Memories of making love to Christian flooded her. The experience was ineffable, and when he bit her neck, she had lost all control. His lovemaking felt like a wave, moving slowly over them both, engulfing her in its power. She needed to feel his eyes on her and his touch. He made her feel like the most loved woman in the world. She wondered if that was his supernatural powers talking or actual love and desire.

Amanda remembered whispering to him that she loved him. Was that so wrong? She told herself to not think about the future, but rather to enjoy the now, yet she knew they were fated to be together. How could that be possible? As she stepped into the tub, she wondered where he and Michel slept. Was he close by? A million thoughts raced through her head as she soaked in the warm water. What was happening with the robbery? What would happen between them now that she had fallen so in love with him? Tony had mentioned there were clothes for her, but how had Christian known she wore a size six shoe? Amanda submerged herself in the sudsy water, feeling special in this different world.

She wondered how the rest of the evening had gone for Bethany and Jeff, and where Thomas had disappeared to. Though he had not called her back, she could not imagine he wanted her just for sex. They had been friends, and though he was a great lover, he paled after her night with Christian. She washed her hair with something that smelled like grapefruit, and then grabbed one of the thick black bath towels. After putting on a body lotion that smelled like lavender, Amanda went to find some clothes.

She rummaged through the neatly stacked jeans, shirts, and sweaters, but she could not decide what to wear.
How could he know my tastes?
She settled on a pair of black jeans, a white boat neck sweater, and a short gray woolen jacket. He had socks, underclothes, and several pairs of boots for her as well. She got dressed quickly, and then went back into the bathroom to blow dry her hair. Glancing at her watch, she saw that it was after three. She checked her messages and decided to call Bethany and check in with her. While she was dialing, she remembered the card accompanying the flowers. The call went into voice mail, and she left a brief message.

“Hey, Beth, it’s me. It’s around three o’clock on Friday afternoon.

I … I spent the night with Christian. I’m on my way home. See you later.”

She hung up and opened the small card beside the flowers. In neat black ink was the following:

My Amanda
,

I am at a loss for words.

My heart beats only for you and love runs through my veins.

C

Amanda sniffed the roses and noticed that there was one lily in the bouquet.
How does he know this is my favorite flower?
The meaning of the lily,
I dare you to love me—
was not lost on her. He had offered her everything, including an invitation into his world, and at that moment it all seemed possible and perfectly rational—Yet he was a vampire, a blood drinker who was nearly three hundred years old. As she ate a chocolate croissant and drank another cup of coffee, Amanda pondered his presence in her life. Clearly he knew everything about her, but why? And what kind of future could they possibly have together? When she finished her breakfast, she forced herself to leave.

She stopped before the portrait over the fireplace one more time, curious about this woman who had so captured his heart that he still could not let her go centuries later.
How can I compete with her?
She was tempted to touch the painting again, but then thought better of it. It was time to go back to her post WWII apartment and her average life. Fearing the flowers would not survive the return trip in the cold air, she left them in the vase on the night table. Taking a pen out of her purse, she turned the card over and scribbled a quick note to him.

I double dare you … Amanda

With her purse over her shoulder, Amanda tiptoed down the steps. She stopped in front of the French doors to confirm that the living room was just as beautiful as she remembered it. She opened the doors and slipped into the elegant room. The furniture and antiques appeared muted in the late afternoon sun. Amanda walked over to a window and glanced down at the traffic on Fifth Avenue and the museum that was her world.
Can I have both?
She slowly buttoned her coat and headed downstairs, hesitant to trade this sanctuary for the cold New York City afternoon.

On her way out, she stuck her head in the library to thank Tony, but her attention was drawn to something on the mantle. She approached it carefully, feeling as though she were hallucinating. Was it one of his valuable antiques, or no, it could not be? She hesitated at first, thinking it merely a coincidence that he would have a terra cotta statue on his mantle. Amanda tried to remember if it had been there the other night.

There’s only one way to find out, Amanda. Turn it over.

She tiptoed over to the mantle just as Tony came in behind her. A rush of images hit her: a feminine bedroom with blue walls, a chandelier filled with candlelight, a woman’s laughter.

“Did you find everything okay?”

She debated whether there was enough time to turn the statue over and look for an accession number.

“Yes. I was just admiring this sculpture. It’s beautiful.”

He came up beside her, and his amber eyes met her gaze. “I never noticed it before. He sure does love his antiques.”

She set it back down on the mantle, willing her hands not to shake.

“Thanks for everything, Tony.” She smiled, trying to get beyond his cold façade.

“Just doing my job,” he smiled and followed her back to the foyer.

Amanda kicked herself all the way home for not turning the statue over while she had the chance.
Was I not fast enough, or did I just not want to know the truth?
She turned the key in the lock of her apartment and stepped inside. As she hung up the rich woolen jacket, she surveyed her apartment. It suddenly felt jejune compared to where she had just spent the night.

She had just gotten online when she heard the front door open.

“Amanda?”

Her bedroom door opened and Bethany stuck her head in. She looked refreshed, dressed entirely in black with her hair pulled back in a ponytail. “Are you just getting home?”

“Didn’t you get my message?”

Bethany sat down on her bed hesitantly. “What’s going on, Amanda? You don’t have a date in over a year, and within the space of three days you sleep with two different guys?”

“I don’t know … It just happened, Beth.” She ran her hand through her hair, wondering the same thing herself.

“Nice clothes.”

How could she explain that a vampire just happened to know her shoe size and her favorite brand of clothing? None of it made sense. It was like he knew everything about her. She had never withheld anything from Bethany, yet now she was privy to a secret world, one that most people did not believe existed. How could she tell her the truth?

“Amanda, look, I know this last year has been really rough. I can’t even imagine what you must have gone through. I never doubted your story …” she shrugged and smiled at Amanda. “Okay, I had a hard time believing that vampire’s killed Ryan and a guy with a machete saved your life. But you proved me wrong about him. He does exist. I guess what I am trying to say is, who am I to judge you? I happen to like Thomas, but if you want to sleep around, hey, just practice safe sex.”

Amanda realized she had not used birth control with either of them. It was not like her to get swept up in the moment, but with both of them the experience had bordered on mystical.

“Thanks, Beth. So how did Jeff like the Grey Wolf?”

She shrugged. “He was so drunk by that point I’m not sure if he even remembered going there, but it was a nice party, don’t you think?”

“It was great.” Amanda smiled. “You two seem so happy.”

“There’s something you’re not telling me, Amanda Monique Perretti.” Like Amanda’s mother, Bethany only used her full name to denote a serious tone to any conversation.

“You need to sit down Beth, there’s something—”

Cole was on the line. Amanda flipped open her cell phone.

“Hi, Amanda. I’m glad I caught you at home. Have you seen the news today?” She put her hand over the receiver. “Beth, put on the TV.”

Bethany ran into the living room with Amanda close behind.

Staring at the two women from the television screen was a photo of Detective Burt Ross and footage of his hysterical girlfriend, Melinda.

Amanda held her cell phone by her ear as the three of them watched the story.

“He’s wanted for questioning Amanda. NYPD are looking at him as a possible suspect.”