Microsoft Word - 1606017438-Of-Night-and-Desire-Bailey.doc (15 page)

* * * *

He chuckled at her maidenly modesty. It did little to curb his desire, knowing full well what those luscious mounds looked like, how they felt against his hands, how her nipples melted on his tongue like sugar. He watched as she sashayed off to the bathroom, his hungry eyes devouring her

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with each step. When she closed the door behind her, he quickly got up. His black leather pants materialized on his body along with a t-shirt.

But then, remembering her words about his choice of wardrobe, the t-shirt disappeared to be replaced by a burgundy poet shirt.
That should please
Richelle
. Stepping over to the glass doors, he placed both hands on the two handles and pulled the doors open. As he stepped onto the balcony, he inhaled deeply, invigorated by the myriad of smells.

The downtown district of Royal Oak was alive with activity and energy.

Music filled the night as people sat at outside cafes and walked along Main Street going from bar to bar. There weren’t many cars traveling the street, but the foot traffic was plenty, which was good for him. He needed to feed.

It had been too long since he’d had the taste of human blood. Wolf’s blood had a better taste, but there was more energy and power in human blood.

Impatient, he jumped from the balcony to the street below, concealing himself in shadows along the building. No one noticed him as he swooped down from the sky to walk among them. Immortals were able to shield their presence from those they hunted, whether it was to feed or root out the evil.

That’s what made them extraordinary hunters.

He watched and waited. Finally, he found his mark. Two lovers

aimlessly walked arm in arm, passing the various cafes and shops, talking idly and enjoying being with each other. They glowed, having just made love, not that anyone else on the street noticed. His stomach tightened as he felt their joined hearts, their communal energy. He wanted that for himself and Richelle.

Following close behind, he basked in the power flowing from them. As they rounded a corner, he swamped them with a pheromone designed to lure and calm an Immortal’s quarry when they fed. Placing his hand upon the man’s shoulder, Valya greeted him like an old friend. The man responded in kind, introducing his fiancée, whom Valya met with a chaste kiss upon her cheek.

He walked along with them, listening as they chattered on about their wedding next weekend, their plans to leave for California to spend two weeks in a rented beach house. Longingly they gazed at each other as they talked, and for a moment, Valya envied their intimacy.

He guided them along to a deserted street between two avenues before turning to face them. His eyes swirled with colors and light, and he spoke to

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them in another language, his lilted accent mesmerizing them. His canines descended, but the couple showed no fear as Valya stepped forward and drank from the man first so he would have more time to recover from the bite and be there for his woman.

From the first swallow, he felt revitalized. The man’s blood was thick and heady, like fine brandy. It was concentrated with strength of conviction and filled with passion for his lady. He was careful not to take too much as the woman watched on, her breathing steady and shallow. He pulled back to seal the pinpricks with a lap of his tongue before steadying the man against the wall. Then he turned to the woman.

She had an innocent beauty, like a doe walking in a meadow. Unafraid, she walked into his personal space and tilted her head to one side. His fangs slid into her delicate neck. Her taste was light and bubbly, like champagne.

As their blood mingled within Valya, its power slammed into him like a freight train. He took one last, long draw before pulling away. Her skin more fragile, he had to lap at the pinpricks and the surrounding skin to repair the bruising already starting to show.

He leaned her against her fiancé and continued to speak with them while their senses returned with the fading pheromones. When he felt they were ready, he led them from their hideaway onto the main street. Bidding them both a fond farewell, he left them as they walked along to a small coffee house and stepped in to take a seat at a window table. They were none the wiser for their encounter.

Valya watched them for a few more moments as a waitress brought over their coffee and a piece of cheesecake. They talked, sipping their coffees as he fed them both the cheesecake. He slid the fork from her mouth and leaned in for a lingering kiss. For a moment, Valya envied them in their ability to freely share their love. He decided to give them a gift. He surrounded them with an aura, intensifying their love for each other. It wasn’t long before they left their dessert behind and left arm in arm.

He watched them until they entered an apartment building on the corner.

When he was satisfied they were in no danger, he decided to walk back to the loft, letting the rhythm of the night imbue him with its power. He would need to be at full strength to prepare for the battle ahead. He knew far more about Preacher and the Believers than he wanted to share with Richelle.

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Many of the Believers were nothing more than Vampyre hunters who had banded together under the direction of the man known as Preacher.

Claiming to have spoken to God, Preacher was delusional in his beliefs. He prophesized Richelle had to be rescued from evil Vampyres bent on the destruction of man to be delivered to God and become the next Queen of the Heavens. It was a twisted version of the truth. Preacher was merely a pawn in one madman’s race for victory, for domination—
Luka cel Rau
.

Once a celebrated champion among the Immortals, Luka found his life mate among the Immortals and
chose
not to bond with her. From that moment he began a descent into the depths of insanity. He abandoned the ancient teachings and turned Vampyre. A few Immortals, tired of serving ungrateful mankind and wanting to find riches and power of their own, joined his ranks.

Luka found followers amidst the mortals. Preacher and his faction believed Luka’s warped version of the truth: that Richelle was
Luka’s
life mate; that
Luka and Richelle
were destined to bring a new order to the World; and that
Valya and the Immortals
were the evil ones endeavoring to destroy mankind. For some unknown reason, Luka had fixated on Richelle, and his perverse lies would destroy her and all mankind.

Valya would never allow that to happen. Luka would have to kill him first before he would allow his precious Richelle to be sentenced to the Living Death. Having battled before, Luka would find it to be a formidable, if not impossible, task to defeat him. In the end, one of them would perish, and with that death, the world would either be saved or condemned to damnation.

But for the moment, the only way to protect Richelle was if they completed the bonding ritual. If they were bonded, Luka would not be able to take her as his life mate as part of some unknown dastardly design for domination. Somehow, Valya would have to find a way to sway Richelle to complete the ritual and become his life mate.
But how?

The memory of the lovers as they strolled along, talking, sharing, so obviously enamored with each other played over and over in his mind. In their lover’s world, no one else existed. That’s what Richelle needed, a chance to get to know him. Not Valya the Guardian or Valya the Immortal, but the man Valya. No courtly gestures or grand exhibits of adoration, but a

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simple
date,
something typically human she could relate to and relax so they could get to know each other.

But what did humans do on a date? Where did they go? He had no experience in what Immortals considered a primitive sexual ritual. As Immortals, there was no finding out if someone was right for you. They were either your mate or not. All others were consenting sex partners. And having lived in solitude, he was positive Richelle had never gone out on a date before either. He wanted it to be memorable, special, magical.

He picked up his pace. While he needed time to think of something, he didn’t want to leave Richelle alone for too long.

* * * *

Richelle gasped when she walked into the bathroom. It was palatial, just as awe-inspiring as the rest of the loft. Done in the same shades with gold fixtures, the room had a regal air. The décor was more Victorian than contemporary, with a claw-foot tub and vanity with feminine touches of scented soaps, bath salts, and candles. Next to the vanity was a dressing table holding a few bottles and a silver brush set. Beyond the dressing table was a small closet where two dressing gowns and several dresses hung.

She fingered the dressing gowns. They were so soft, some satin, some silk. She’d never had anything so fine. She removed a satin lavender one and draped it over the seat of the dressing table and then turned. Leaning over the tub’s edge, she adjusted the water temperature and put in the stopper. Spotting a jar on the vanity, she lifted the lid and sniffed.
Mmmm,
smells nice
. She threw some of the bath salts in and put the jar back.

Dropping the sheet to pool at her feet, she looked at her reflection in the mirror. Reflectively, she ran her hands over her breasts, down between them, over her stomach to rest on her hips. She turned her head from side to side, examining her features.
No, I don’t look any different.

Nothing outwardly had changed, but on the inside, something had definitely changed. She felt completely different even before she returned home.

Before, she had always been afraid—of other people, of being alone, of change. Then the opportunity came to be a part of Dr. Samuels’ elite team.

She was terrified and excited at the prospect of doing something important with her life, something that mattered. Her biggest fear had been

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she would spend her life merely
existing
, never truly
living
. She had learned with the death of her mother and Duncan life was a precious commodity not to be wasted. She had always expected to live in fear from the old priest…Preacher.

Having little confidence in herself, she was unsure in her decisions and actions. Nonetheless, she had completed her education, which had helped her grow in poise and self-assurance. More and more she could see she had shut herself off from the world and now she wanted to become a part of it.

She just needed to learn how to face and overcome her fears.

Turning to shut off the water, she stepped cautiously into the steaming tub, the soothing salts seeping into her skin and relaxing her. She lay her head back against a folded towel and closed her eyes. She thought of everything that had happened over the past few days and marveled on how wonderful and unexpected life could be.

Never dreaming she would be able to leave a mark on this world, here she was ready to embark on an exciting new career as well as have a chance at a true relationship, a never-ending romance. If she was brave enough to take a chance.

Dipping her head beneath the water, she pondered,
What if I take a
chance and fail?

Coming up and pulling her sopping curls away from her face, she countered,
What if I don’t take a chance? I’ll never know.

Shampooing her hair, she weighed all the pros and cons.

I could leave and focus on my career, live alone for the rest of my life.

But Valya could turn Vampyre. I could agree to the ritual. But what if I
don’t recognize him? What if he’s wrong and we aren’t destined to be
together?

She dipped below the water again, to rinse the soap from her hair as she tried to wash away her fears and insecurities. Coming up, she pulled back her squeaky clean tresses before resting her head on her makeshift pillow.

Valya had been a physical presence in her life for two days, and yet she felt as if she had known him all her life. He said he had watched over her, protected her as a child, loved her.
Would it be so unbelievable if we were
destined life mates?

Standing, she let the cooling water cascade over her body. She grabbed a bath towel from the towel bar and wrapped it around her. Stepping out of

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the tub, she sat at the dressing table and picked up a comb. She parted her hair and began to comb out the tangles. When she was done, she stared vacantly at her reflection in the mirror.

My entire life has been a series of secrets and hiding. I always prayed
to the Goddess for the possibility to stand in the sun with my head held high
and yell, “It’s me, Richelle. I’m here. I’m real, and this is my life.”
Her hair neatly clipped up, she threw the comb disgustedly on the table.

“This is the chance you’ve been waiting for, so why are you so afraid to take it?” she yelled at the woman in the mirror.

She put on the dressing gown and loosely tied the belt around her waist.

She needed to find Valya, to talk to him. She didn’t know what she was going to say to him, as she still hadn’t figured out everything, but one thing was for certain: She
wanted
to take that leap of faith.

* * * *

Valya was sitting on one of the high stools at the bar in the kitchenette.

He was sipping a dark red liquid from a wineglass. Richelle was a little grossed out at the thought he might be drinking blood from a crystal goblet.

“Is that…?”

“Cabernet, 1956. A very good year,” he replied. “I have an exceptional wine collection.”

She nodded as she surreptitiously peeked up from downcast eyes. He had changed his clothes. He wasn’t wearing the black t-shirt from earlier.

Instead, he wore a flowing shirt in a rich shade of burgundy paired with his black pants and boots. His leather pants perfectly outlined his firm thighs and taut butt as he sat on the stool with one foot resting on a slat and the other touching the floor. All that was missing was a saber and he’d fill the bill as pirate—dangerous, sexy, and mouth-wateringly hot.