Microsoft Word - The Mammoth Book of Vampire Romance.doc (52 page)

That
 
she heard, even though she wished she hadn’t. The vampire lowered his mouth to her neck, running his teeth along the arch. “Come any closer, Hunter, she dies.”

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She focused on Wyatt’s face. She could see him now, moving through the alley, a smirk on his lips. Light and shadow played across his face and those piercing, pale-amber eyes of his glowed. “You know how this ends, boy. Let her go and I might even give you a head start. But that’s your only chance.”

The man at her back tightened his hand, forcing her head into an unnatural angle which hurt. Shit, it felt like he was going to snap her neck before he could bite her. “I know what happens if I let her go.”

Wyatt smiled. It was a mean smile, full of threat and menace. “That’s going to happen anyway. You just get the choice  –  painfully slow or mercifully quick.”

Behind  her, the vampire tensed. His arm came up, angling across her upper body and his hand spread across her neck gently, almost lover-like. “I got a better choice.”

“Like hell,” Sara snarled and reared back with her head. He  either wasn’t as quick as Wyatt or  he’d been fooled by her  silence, because he didn’t move out of the way in time. She hit  him with a force that left her head spinning, but she heard bone  crunch. At the same time, she lifted her foot and brought the hell  of her booted foot down on his.

What happened next was too quick for her to process. One minute he had her, and then she was flying, careering through the air and hitting the wall with jarring force. Her head smashed into the brick and brilliant lights exploded behind her eyes.

Distantly,  she heard her name. Wyatt. There was a roar. A

rush of wind.

The pain in her head throbbed, blocking out anything, everything else. Hands touched her face. Gentle. Soothing.  “Sara, look at me.”

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Too hard. Opening her eyes just took too much effort. But he  brushed his fingers down her cheek and she realized she had to see him. Lifting her lashes, she stared at his face, watching as it swam in and out of focus. His amber eyes were dark with worry, anger. Despite the pain radiating through her, she had to smile.

He actually looked like he cared.

But vampires couldn’t care.

Wyatt sat in the chair by the window, brooding as he watched the sun sink below the horizon. As time passed, some of the stronger vamps could tolerate ever-increasing amounts of sunlight. Just a few seconds at first, but their tolerance improved slowly. Wyatt’s Change had been nearly 80 years ago and he could take enough sun to watch as the sun made its disappearance.

His skin itched and burned, just like it would from sunburn and it felt like there were blisters forming. But as the sun’s rays faded, his body started to repair the damage.

He knew when she woke, heard the subtle change in her breathing, in her heartbeat. Sill, he wasn’t prepared for the low, throaty sound of her voice. “I didn’t think vampires could handle sunlight.”

Closing his eyes, he steeled himself to see her face before turning to look at her. She was pale, but alive. The past 13-plus hours had been awful. He’d fought his body’s natural instincts, remaining awake throughout the day to watch her.

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Watch.

Worry.

Brood.

And worry some more. It had been more than 80 years since he’d graduated from medical school and saying that  things had changed was putting it mildly. Still, a concussion was fairly basic and that was all she had. One thing about being a vampire: if she had been bleeding internally, he would have scented it.

She was still staring at him wide-eyed. Wyatt sighed and glanced over his shoulder at the darkening sky. “Most of the mythology surrounding vampires is either pure nonsense or highly exaggerated.

“Like the sight or scent of blood turns you into a maniac?”

Wyatt shrugged. “Older vamps have better control than that.  A new one? Possibly. But new vamps are supervised until they have some sense of control.”

“You make it sound like there are laws.”

“There are.” Wyatt didn’t bother elaborating. She wouldn’t

care about their laws, about his purpose, about anything.

“Apparently the laws aren’t serving much purpose,” She

said, her voice bitter.

Gently,  Wyatt pointed out. “Humans have laws. But humans still kill, still steal, still rape. The law gives us a way to punish the guilty but as long as free will exists, there will be those who break the law. Mortals and vampires.”

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She looked away from him but  not before he glimpsed the pain, the anger in her gaze. “The law failed your brother and his wife, Sara. I’m sorry for that. But you can’t continue on this mission of yours. It’s going to get you killed.”

Her laugh was soft and bitter. “You think I don’t  know that?” She paused and looked back at him. “These laws  –somebody had to uphold them, right? Can somebody find justice for my brother? His wife?”

“Sara,” He waited until she looked at him and then he slid  off the chair. There wasn’t anything he could  say to take this  pain from her, even if he shared all he knew, nothing would  undo the pain. This much, though, he could give. He knelt in  front of her and wished he could touch her, wished she could  want his touch. “It’s already been done.”

She blinked. Her throat worked as she swallowed. Her tongue slid out to wet her lips and, even though it was an innocent gesture, Wyatt’s blood warmed and hunger flared to life. He had to focus to even understand her next words.

“Already done?”

He couldn’t not touch her. Wyatt realized. She’d pull away, he’d feel a fool, but he had to do it. Lightly, gently. All he did was brush her hair back from her face, a quick caress that lasted just a heartbeat. Her breath froze in her lungs and he braced himself. But she didn’t  pull back. She didn’t flinch. Her eyes didn’t freeze over with disgust. Her eyes lifted and met his.  Slowly, Wyatt reached out, cupped her cheek in his hand.  “Done. They were dead before the sun set the next day.”

Sara slumped, dropping her head down.  “Dead.” She was motionless for a minute and then she stood, brushing past him to pace the room. “Dead. You tell me they’ve been dead for a year.  And you expect me to believe you. Just like that?”

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Rising. Wyatt tucked his hands into his pockets, watched her long strides. “I don’t expect you to believe me, Sara, Not over this. Not over anything.”

She came to an abrupt halt and turned, facing him. “Then why
 
do
 
I? Why do I trust you? How come I look at you and I don’t have the urge to run when I know I should?”  There was naked emotion in her eyes, confusion. Doubt.

And need.

The need hit him square in the gut, because it seemed to echo the emotion inside him. His voice was rusty, hoarse as he said. “It’s your brain telling you to run, Sara. But some other part of you realizes I’m no danger to you.”

“How can you
 
not
 
be?”

A fist closed around his heart. Wyatt took one slow step in her direction. Followed by another. Another. He was close enough to reach out and touch her, but he wouldn’t let himself.  “How could I? How could I possibly hurt you?” Instead of touching her, he reached behind him and pulled the Glock from his waistband. Then he allowed himself to touch her, but gently.  Only her wrist. Wrapping his fingers around it, he pushed the gun into her hand and  then lifted it, pressed the muzzle to his chest. “Can you hurt me, Sara? It’s still loaded. If you really believe I’m a soulless monster, then you should pull the trigger.  I’ve faced my share of monsters and believe me, I don’t hesitate.”

She jerked against his hold, but he wouldn’t let go. “You’re

crazy,” she whispered. “You think I won’t? Think I can’t?”

Wyatt smiled sadly. “Oh no. I know you can pull the trigger. I know you have. And if you really believe I’m nothing but a monster, then you need to pull the trigger.”

435

Her breath hitched in her chest. Her gaze lowered to the gun pressing into his chest. At this close range, there was no way the bullet could miss his heart. He’d be dead before he even hit the

ground, just like a mortal.

“No.” Her voice came in a harsh, broken whisper.

She pulled against his hold and this time he let her go, watched as she put the safety back on, carefully . . . oh, so carefully. Then she laid the gun on the bedside table and rubbed her hands down the front of her pants.  “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t.” She shook her head and turned to face

him. “I can’t.”

There was a look in her eyes that might have made him do something that would have totally humiliated him  –  like reach for her; like tell her that he’d spent the past year wishing things could have been different, wishing that he could have spent it with her. That he had thought about spending the rest of his life with her, after just one week together  –  and what a fantasy that

was.

She was mortal. She’d die  in a handful of short decades. He was vampire. He could die  and, sooner or later, he would. But the odds were that he’d be walking the earth long after Sara went to meet her Maker.

Yet even that ugly fact wasn’t enough to keep him from touching her. No. What stopped him was the slow, careful way she backed away from him. What stopped him was the blank, expressionless mask that crept across her face with each step she took away from him. By the time she was at the door, the look

436

on her face was smooth and blank as a doll’s. She reached

behind to open the door without looking away from him.

He was tempted to just let her leave.

He’d known this was an exercise in futility, but he couldn’t just let her walk away. And it had nothing to do with orders from the damned  council, either.

As she eased the door open, he moved quickly, crossing the floor. Her eyes went wide and his ears picked up the telltale skip of her heart as he reached over and pressed a hand to the door, keeping her from opening it. “You can’t leave just yet, Sara.”

Her chin angled up. “Why the hell not?”

“Because what you are doing has to stop.”

The fear he sensed inside her had already, faded and she shoved past him. Her elbow dug into his side and, automatically, he rubbed it.
 
Mean little brat
. “We have laws, Sara. Laws to protect innocent people  –  and innocent vampires. They do exist.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. Because bloodsucking

doesn’t actually hurt people, right?”

Reaching out he stroked a hand down her neck and said,  “Actually, you’re quite right. It doesn’t have to hurt, and there’s no reason to kill.”

She smacked at his hand. “Don’t touch me.”

The ice in her voice stabbed at him, cutting into more than just his pride. He eased a little closer, but whether he was trying to soothe wounded pride or something deeper he didn’t know.

437

Advancing on her, he followed her as she backed away until she bumped into a narrow table.

“I remember when you begged me to touch you,” he  whispered. He pressed his finger to her lips and remembered her  taste.

“Don’t remind me.”

“Do you need a reminder?” Wyatt asked. “I don’t. I

remember all of it. Every . . . last . . . detail.”

Her sea-green eyes darkened to jade and her breathing hitched. He heard the acceleration of her pulse, scented the change  in the air around her. “You remember too, don’t you?”

The thick fringe of her lashes fluttered, shielding her eyes.  But he didn’t need to see them to know the answer. He slid his hand down, curving it over her neck, his thumb resting  on  theshallow notch  at the base.

“I’m the same man now that I was then,” he told her, his  voice harsh. “The same man you picked up in a bar, the same  man you followed to his hotel, the same man who made love to  you and held you when you cried. If I didn’t hurt you then, why  would I do it now?”

Her body shuddered and Wyatt tore away with a curse. He stalked away but the sound of her footsteps on the floor behind him made him pause. “Sara  –” He turned, certain she’d be running for the door again.

But she wasn’t. She took another step towards him.  Another. Another. “You can’t expect me to unlearn everything  I’ve believed since my brother died, Wyatt,” she said.

“I don’t.”

438

She didn’t seem to hear him. “I’m not an impulsive person.  Or at least I didn’t used to be. I didn’t pick  up men in bars. I didn’t go to hotels with strangers. I never would have believed I could develop some bizarre
 
Buffy
 
obsession and start hunting for monsters that can’t exist.”

Am I doing this
? Without a doubt, the answer was yes. And it was what Sara  had wanted to do from the time she opened her eyes and saw him sitting in a chair, his gaze focused on the setting sun. She’d watched as his face flushed red, as though burned, watched as blisters formed and then faded moments later as the sun disappeared.