Moonlight (11 page)

“Sure, well, keep me posted.”

“All right, I will. Bye.”

Frowning, Adrianna hung up the phone as she went out to wait
on a customer. Apparently, there was no mystery to be solved. The letter V didn’t
stand for anything.

A week passed. For Navarre, they were the longest seven days
of his entire life.

Why, he raged as he paced restlessly from one end of the
house to the other, why was he so intrigued by Miss Adrianna Grant? In his
time, he had known women who were smarter, women who were more beautiful, more
voluptuous, more everything. But he had never known one who had eyes quite that
shade of blue, hair quite that shade of blonde, a smile that made him believe
anything was possible. She filled his every waking moment.

Like a schoolboy in the throes of his first crush, he made
excuses to pass by her house, her shop. Sometimes, feeling like an adolescent
fool, he followed her, always keeping out of sight, always careful to screen
his presence from her mind.

He followed her home from work in the evening, he followed
her when she went out to dinner with a girlfriend, he had followed her into the
movie theater the previous Saturday night. Sitting in the back and off to the
side, he had spent two hours watching her face, watching her reactions to the
bittersweet love story unfolding on the screen. Her laughter filled him with
sunshine; her tears made him long to comfort her. Trailing after her as she
walked home from the theater, he had cursed himself for being a fool. But he
couldn’t stop thinking of her, couldn’t stop remembering the sweet womanly
scent of her skin and hair, the way she had fit into his embrace, the
intoxicating taste of her kisses.

He couldn’t stop thinking of her; couldn’t stop wanting her.

And now it was Saturday night again. Prowling through the
quiet rooms of his house, he told himself to take her and be done with it. She
wanted him, whether she knew it or not. He could make her his at any time. With
the power of his mind, he could call her to him. He could mesmerize her with
the power of his gaze, bend her will to his, take what he wanted and send her
away, the knowledge of what transpired between them erased from her mind with a
word.

He swore a vile oath as he brought his fist down on a heavy
oak table. He didn’t want her like that—no better than a puppet while he pulled
the strings. He wanted her warm and willing, fully aware of what was happening.
He wanted to hear the sound of his name on her lips, to gaze deep into her eyes
and see love reflected there…

Love! He cursed under his breath. Where had
that
come
from? Love, indeed. What woman would love a creature like him, a man who was
not a man at all, a monster who lived by night and existed on the blood of
others?

He thought of Katlaina, and pain ripped through him. She had
promised to love him forever, and he had believed her. Even now, almost two
thousand years later, he could remember the look in her eyes when he appeared
to her after Shaylyn had turned him. She had stared at him in revulsion,
sickened by the look of death in his eyes. She had recognized him for what he
was—an inhuman monster. Even the recollection of her acceptance of him years
later, when she was dying, could not banish the agony of that moment when she
had backed away from him, her face as pale as death, her eyes wide with fear
and loathing.

He cursed bitterly. In had lived almost two thousand years,
and in all that time, he had never loved another woman. He had lived alone,
though he could have taken any woman he desired, taken her and used her and
tossed her away.

But now he was wanting a woman, one particular woman, very
badly. Adrianna… Surely he deserved to have this one woman. He had lived alone
for almost two thousand years, taking only the blood he needed to survive,
leaving those he drank from alive when he could so easily have killed them. He
had spared countless lives. Surely he deserved this one woman…

With a strangled cry, he stalked out of the house. He wanted
her, and he would have her before the night was out, and heaven help anyone who
got in his way!

With preternatural speed, he made it to her house in a
matter of minutes. The drapes in the living room were open, and he could see
her sitting on the sofa, her face bathed in lamplight, an open book on her lap.

Lingering in the shadows under the oak tree, he saw a faint
smile curve her lips as she turned a page. Curious to know what had brought
such a melancholy expression to her face, he probed her mind, surprised to
discover that she was wishing a knight in shining armor would ride into her
life, sweep her off her feet, and carry her away.

He cursed softly. She was so young, so innocent. There were
no fairy tale endings in life—only pain and loss and endless loneliness.

A rueful grin twisted his lips. It would not be a gallant
paladin in sun-bright armor sweeping her off her feet this night, but a monster
in the guise of a man. For too long, he had pretended to be something he wasn’t.

Tonight, he would unleash the beast within him.

A low, animal-like growl of remorse rumbled deep in his
throat. For a moment, he thought of turning away, of returning home, his desire
unfulfilled, his hunger unfed. With sheer effort of will, he forced the thought
from his mind. A lion did not feel sympathy for its prey. It made its kill,
clean and quick, took what it needed to survive, and moved on.

And so would he.

* * * * *

Adrianna sighed as she put the book aside and went to answer
the door. She was no dreamer, no schoolgirl, to believe in fairy tales and
happy-ever-after, but, oh, how she wished the man of her dreams would suddenly
appear.

Wondering who would be coming to see her so late at night,
she slid the safety chain in place, then peered through the peep hole.

She gasped when she saw Navarre standing on the porch.
Speechless, she opened the door and blinked at him through the crack. Maybe
dreams
did
come true!

She swallowed, then moistened her lips with the tip of her
tongue. “Hello.”

Navarre’s nod was curt. “Hello.”

He wasn’t wearing armor or riding a white horse, she mused,
but he looked terribly handsome in a dark gray sweater and sweat pants.

She lifted one hand to the safety chain. “Would you like to
come in?”

He stared down at her, at the pulse throbbing at the base of
her throat, at the wonder in her blue eyes, and slowly shook his head. “No.”

“Oh.”

He felt the keen edge of her disappointment, knew,
instinctively, that she had foolishly cast him in the role of white knight.
White, indeed, he mused, when his whole life had been spent in darkness.

She licked her lips again, and he felt the stirrings of
desire unfurl within him. “Did you want something?” she asked.

“The bed.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he
knew he had picked the wrong topic of conversation. It was all too easy to picture
her in the bed he had once slept in, lying beneath the canopy, her hair spread
over the pillow, her eyes heavy-lidded with passion.

“The bed?” she repeated, puzzled.

“Yes, I…I came by to make sure you were happy with it.”

She hesitated a moment before answering. She was happy with
the bed. It was beautiful and comfortable and yet, even though she knew it was
silly, she couldn’t help feeling that her new bed was somehow responsible for
the strange dreams she’d been having.

“Is something wrong with it?” Navarre asked.

“No, of course not. I found an old lace bedspread for it in
my great-grandmother’s trunk. My mother told me it was part of great-Grandmother
Hall’s trousseau from the old country. Would you like to see it?”

Every instinct shouted at him to say no, to turn away before
it was too late. Too late for her. Too late for him. Instead, he found himself
nodding.

Adrianna closed the door so she could remove the safety
chain, then invited him inside with a smile and a wave of her hand.

All too aware that he was making a mistake, he followed her
down the corridor that led to her bedroom.

He hadn’t paid much attention to the room before. Now, he
noticed that the walls were papered with a delicate blue and rose print. An
antique oak dresser stood across from the bed; an oval mirror hung on the wall.
A rag doll sat in a small rocking chair located in one corner. Pale-blue
curtains hung at the window, a blue carpet covered the floor.

He stood in the doorway, careful to avoid the mirror.

Adrianna ran her hand over the spread. “It looks good, don’t
you think?”

Navarre nodded. Indeed, the ivory lace spread looked as if
it had been made for his bed, this room, this woman.

He clenched his fists at his sides to keep from crossing the
floor and taking her in his arms. It would be so easy, he thought, so easy to
press her down to the bed that had once been his and satisfy his desire, his
hunger, in one swift, fatal embrace.

Adrianna looked up then, her gaze meeting his. The
expression glittering in his eyes sent the breath rocketing from her lungs. She
was no expert on men, but she knew desire when she saw it, and never had she
seen it burning hotter or brighter than in this man’s eyes.

Awareness hummed between them, vibrant, palpable, so intense
it was frightening.

She took an involuntary step backward as he pushed away from
the doorway and moved toward her. There was a predatory gleam in the depths of
Navarre’s eyes, a hunger that went beyond desire, a need that transcended the
boundaries of time.

With a cry of despair, she shook her head, her foot catching
on the bedspread as she recoiled from his touch.

The look in her eyes, so like the look he had once seen in
Katlaina’s, cut Navarre to the heart, ravaging his soul as the sun would ravage
his body dared he linger too long in its light. He began to tremble
convulsively as he fought to control the hunger raging through him. Never had
he wanted a woman as he wanted this woman. Never had the urge to take what he
wanted been so strong.

Never before had he truly realized how difficult it was to
separate the desires of the flesh from the lust for blood.

“Forgive me,” he rasped, and fled the room as if pursued by
the devil himself.

Outside, he took a deep breath, willing his hands to stop
shaking, his heart to stop pounding. Foolish heart, to be so easily swayed by
the fear in a woman’s eyes.

At home, he stood at the attic window and stared out into
the darkness.

“Vampire.” He spoke the word aloud, as if to remind himself
of who and what he was.

Vampire. A solitary, soulless creature who hunted the night.

Vampire. An inhuman monster who lived off the blood of
others, who dared not befriend humans for fear that desire would turn to
bloodlust, that a kiss of affection might be a prelude to sudden death.

Vampire. A ghoul who was not welcome in the world of
humanity or among his own kind. Territorial creatures, those of the undead,
jealous of their hunting grounds, secretive in their ways, zealous in the
protection of their lairs.

“Vampire!”

Never had he loathed the word, loathed what he was, more
than he did at that moment.

Never before had the gulf between himself and the rest of
the world seemed so wide, or so deep, or so impossible to cross.

* * * * *

Adrianna wandered through her house, bemused by what had
happened between herself and Navarre. In spite of what he’d said, she didn’t
believe for a minute that he had come knocking at her door to ask if she was
happy with the bed! So why had he shown up at her house so late at night?

She shied away from the answer that immediately came to
mind, yet she could not forget the desire she had seen blazing in his eyes,
could not forget the tension that had hummed between them like an electrical
current.

She wondered what would have happened if she hadn’t back
away, if he had pulled her into his arms, tipped her face up to his and kissed
her. Would she have protested, or would she have melted in his arms like butter
left too long in the sun?

Going into the bedroom, she changed into her nightgown,
brushed her teeth, then settled herself in bed to read for a few minutes.

But she couldn’t concentrate on the story. Something kept
niggling at her mind, something about Navarre…

She stared at her reflection in the mirror hanging on the
wall across from the bed, and then it hit her. When he had crossed the room
toward her, he had passed in front of the mirror. She had seen her own face,
the fear in her eyes, but Navarre had cast no reflection in the glass.

“I must be hallucinating,” she muttered, and picked up her
book, determined to put it out of her mind. It had been nothing more than her
mind playing tricks on her because she’d been so upset.

But that night her dreams were again filled with shadows,
and lurking deep in the shadows was a tall dark man with hair as black as ink
and gray eyes that burned into her heart and soul, leaving her aching and empty
and yearning for something she dared not name. A man whose voice penetrated
every fiber of her being, calling to her from the depths of sadness, wordlessly
pleading for comfort and acceptance.

She woke with the dawn, her eyes wet with tears.

Adrianna frowned, then shook her head. “I don’t think so,
Nancy, not tonight.”

“Come on, Addie, I’d go with you.”

“But I don’t want to go.”

“Why not?”

Why, indeed, Adrianna mused ruefully. At the moment, the
last thing she wanted was to see Navarre again. “I don’t think Cliff House is
open on Sunday,” she fibbed.

“Of course it is. Come on, it’ll be fun. Russ is out of
town, and we can go to dinner after.”

Adrianna sighed, wondering how she could wriggle out of this
without hurting her best friend’s feelings.

“Pick you up in ten minutes,” Nancy said, and hung up the
phone before Adrianna could object.

The prospect of seeing Navarre had Adrianna nervous as a cat
as Nancy drove out of town toward Old Piney Branch Road. How could she face him
again after last night?

“You’re awfully quiet this evening,” Nancy remarked. “What’s
wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m just tired. I spent the day working in my
garden.” Adrianna glanced over at her friend. She had known Nancy Kendrick
since first grade. Nancy was a pretty girl with dark brown hair, brown eyes,
and a winsome smile. Once, they’d been almost inseparable, but then Nancy had
married Russ and even though they had remained close friends, they didn’t get together
as often as they once had.

Too soon, Nancy was pulling into the driveway at the end of
Old Piney Branch Road.

Adrianna stared at the old house for a long moment, took a
deep breath, and stepped out of the car.

“He sure keeps weird hours,” Nancy remarked as they climbed
the stairs. “I don’t know how he expects to make any money when he’s only open
three hours a night.”

“Maybe he doesn’t need the money,” Adrianna remarked
flippantly. “Maybe the antique business is just a hobby.”

“Yeah, right.” Nancy stared at the door. “Do we knock, or
just walk in?”

Adrianna shrugged. “Just go on in, I guess,” she suggested,
hoping she could get in and out without seeing Navarre.

For a time, Adrianna and Nancy wandered together from room
to room, admiring a display of Louis XV furniture, grimacing at an old voodoo
death mask, laughing as they tried to imagine churning butter in an old wooden
crock, but then Nancy went upstairs to check out the bedroom furniture, leaving
Adrianna in the dining room trying to decide if she wanted to spend a hundred
dollars on an old English plant stand.

Even though her back was to the door, she knew the exact
moment he entered the room. Every nerve ending in her body tingled with his
presence, every fiber of her being was acutely, achingly, aware of him.

“Adrianna.” His voice, soft and low, speaking her name, just
her name, and yet she heard so much more.

Slowly, she turned to face him. Awareness stretched between
them, thick with need.

Adrianna swallowed hard, afraid of the emotions his mere
presence aroused in her, afraid of the restless yearning she read in his eyes.

Navarre took a step toward her, waiting for her to back
away. When she didn’t, he took another step, and another, until he was close
enough to touch her. He curled his hands into tight fists to keep from doing
just that, afraid that if he dared touch her now, he would never let her go.

For a moment, they gazed into each other’s eyes, and then
Navarre let out a deep sigh that seemed to come from the very depths of his
soul.

“Adrianna,” he murmured. “What are we going to do?”

She didn’t pretend she didn’t understand, didn’t make any of
the dozens of coy gestures so common to women. She just stood there, her gaze
locked to his, and then she shook her head. “I don’t know. What do you want to
do?”

Heat flared in the depths of his eyes. “I want to make love
to you.”

She wasn’t shocked or even surprised by his answer. Still,
his bold reply brought a quick rush of heat to her cheeks. It was what she
wanted, too, though she couldn’t admit it. Not to him. Not even to herself.

But Navarre heard the quickening of her breath, saw the
wanting in her eyes.

He whispered her name as he closed the short distance
between them, needing to hold her, to feel her warmth, to taste her sweetness.

The sudden wariness in her eyes halted him in mid-stride.
She wanted him, he thought bitterly, but she was still afraid of him.

“I won’t hurt you,” he vowed, and prayed it was a promise he
could keep. “Please don’t be afraid of me.”

“I’m not.”

It was a bold-faced lie, and they both knew it.

“Addie, where are you?”

Nancy’s voice cut through the tension between them.

“In here,” Adrianna called.

Navarre swore under his breath as a dark-haired young woman
entered the dining room.

“Oh, there you are,” Nancy said. She glanced at Adrianna’s
flushed cheeks, then looked at the man standing nearby.

Adrianna forced a smile. “Nancy, this is Mr. Navarre. He
owns the shop. Mr. Navarre, this is my friend, Nancy Kendrick.”

“Charmed, madam,” Navarre said, inclining his head in Nancy’s
direction. “Welcome to my house.”

“Thank you. Did you find anything, Addie?”

“No.”

“Me, either. At least nothing I can afford.” Nancy smiled
apologetically at Navarre, then looked at Adrianna again. “Are you ready to go?”

Adrianna nodded. As much as she had dreaded coming here, she
now found herself hating to leave. “Yes, I guess so.”

Navarre stepped forward and took Adrianna’s hand in his. “I
hope you’ll come again, Miss Grant.”

“I will, thank you.”

“And you, too, Missus Kendrick.”

“Thank you, Mr. Navarre.” Nancy stared pointedly at his
hand, which was still clasping Adrianna’s. “Addie, are you ready?”

“What? Oh, yes.”

Adrianna was keenly aware of Navarre’s gaze on her back as
she followed Nancy out of the house.

“Well!” Nancy exclaimed as soon as they were in the car. “What
was
that
all about?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know darn well what I mean! What’s going on between you
two?”

“Nothing.”

“It sure looked like something to me. He couldn’t keep his
eyes, or his hands, off you.”

“Don’t be silly.”

“Silly! There was so much tension in that room you could see
it.”

“Nancy…”

“Addie!”

“For goodness sakes, I just met the man. There’s nothing
going on.”

“There will be,” Nancy predicted. “There will be.”

* * * * *

Adrianna sank down on the sofa, a cup of hot chocolate
cradled in her hands. Dinner with Nancy had been fun, once she got her friend
off the subject of Navarre. But then, Nancy was always fun, always able to see the
bright side of life, always able to find humor in the grimmest of situations.
Her cheerful nature had made her one of the most popular girls in high school.
Adrianna had always envied Nancy her easy way with people, her ability to
accept things as they really were.

They had lingered over coffee, talking about Russ, about the
new mall being built at the south end of town, then reminisced about high
school. It had been after ten when Nancy brought her home.

A sigh escaped Adrianna’s lips as she thought of Navarre,
his gray eyes intent upon her face, his voice soft and husky as he whispered
that he wanted to make love to her. It was what she wanted, too, and yet she
couldn’t help being afraid of what it would mean, of the changes it would make
in her life.

She set her cup aside, wondering if she was ready to deal
with all the implications of surrendering her virginity to Navarre. Though he
appeared to be only a few years older than she, there was an air of
sophistication and experience about him that made him seem much older. No doubt
he had known many women, while her experience with men was limited to heavy
petting sessions in the backseat of her old boyfriend’s car, and one brief
encounter that had, fortunately, ended before any damage had been done.

Navarre. She closed her eyes, wondering what it would be
like to let him make love to her…

A knock at the door roused her from the edge of sleep.
Yawning, she went to the door. “Who is it?”

“Navarre.”

Her heart did a somersault at the sound of his voice. With hands
that shook, she released the security chain and unlocked the door.

Taking a deep breath, she ran a hand through her hair,
opened the door. And he was there, filling her vision, a tall dark man dressed
in a white t-shirt and jeans.

“Navarre.” His name whispered past her lips.

His gaze moved over her. She’d been asleep, he thought. Her
hair, slightly mussed, fell in glorious disarray over her shoulders. “May I
come in?”

“I don’t know. It’s late…” She lifted her hand, then let it
fall. “Sure, come on in.”

She stepped back so he could enter the house, then closed
and locked the door behind him, only to stand there, uncertain of what to do
next.

He solved the problem for her by taking her into his arms.
It occurred to her that she should protest, that she should be insulted,
annoyed, angry. Instead, she rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes.

“I had to see you,” he murmured. “I tried to stay away. I
told myself you were too young, too innocent, that I had no right to want you.”
His hand stroked her hair, then slid down her cheek. “Tell me it’s all right
for me to be here, Adrianna. Tell me you don’t want me to go.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

She felt a shudder pass through his body as his arms
tightened around her.

“I need you, Annie,” he said, his voice low and husky.

“Navarre…”

“Shh, it’s all right. Just let me hold you a moment more,
and then I’ll go.”

She didn’t understand the urgency in his voice, the sadness,
the distant echo of loneliness. But he needed her. She could understand that,
and she stood in his arms, content to be there, with her cheek pressed against
his chest, listening to the slow, steady beat of his heart.

Time lost all meaning. An hour might have passed. An
eternity might have passed.

“I should go,” he said, his breath tickling her cheek. “It’s
late.”

But still he didn’t release her. Her nearness was
intoxicating, her warmth soothing. He had made it a point to feed before coming
here and now, for these few precious moments, he could be near her without
being afraid. It felt good to hold her as an ordinary man might hold a woman,
to stroke the softness of her hair and skin, to press kisses along the slender
curve of her throat without fearing that the blood hunger would overcome him.

Gently, he tipped her face to his and kissed her. And she
melted in his arms, her body leaning into his, her breasts warm and soft
against his chest. Her arms slid up around his neck, and she drew him closer,
moaning softly as his tongue slid over her bottom lip.

“Navarre…”

“I know,” he murmured. “I feel it, too.”

He kissed her once more, and then, with regret, he let her
go.

She gazed up at him, her expression slightly dazed, her lips
parted. She was so beautiful, he thought, so innocent. He had no right to
interfere in her life. And yet, even knowing it was wrong, he couldn’t stay
away.

“I’d better go before this gets out of hand.”

Adrianna nodded. She didn’t want him to leave, not yet, but
he was right. Another minute in his arms and she would be inviting him to her
bed. And she wasn’t ready for that, not yet.

He kissed her once more, and then he was gone.

There were no bad dreams that night.