Night's Pleasure (13 page)

“You think so?” She stabbed a finger against his chest. “Do you really think so?”

“You're repulsed by what I am and what I do to survive. You're disgusted because you took me to your bed, you're wondering if I drank your blood…” He swore softly. He hadn't meant to mention that again.

Savanah blinked at him, and then her eyes narrowed. “Did you? Drink my blood?”

He went still, debating whether to tell her the truth or a lie. “I wouldn't call it a drink, exactly,” he replied slowly. “More of a small taste.”

She stared at him. “When? How many times? Why don't I remember it?”

“Several times, and you don't remember it because I didn't want you to, because I didn't want to see the look in your eyes that I see now.”

“And you don't call stealing my blood hurting me?”

“No.”

“I want to go home now.”

“And I want you to stay here.”

“You said I could go home when I was convinced you weren't going to hurt me. And since you don't consider stealing my blood hurting me, then I believe you. So give me my books and let me go.”

“It's dangerous for you to be there alone, at night. And even more dangerous for you to have those damn books.”

Savanah stared at Rane a moment.
The books,
she thought.
Of course.
Her father's murderer must have been looking for them. Why hadn't she realized that sooner?

“You can sleep here tonight,” Rane said, “and go home in the morning.”

She would have argued, but she could tell by the obdurate expression on his face that it wouldn't do her the least bit of good. “Fine, I'll sleep on the sofa.”

“As you wish. I'll get you a pillow and a blanket.”

“Fine.”

“I never should have laughed at you, Savanah Gentry,” he said, rising. “You have the heart of a warrior. I think you'll put every other hunter that ever lived to shame.” He bowed in her direction, and then left the room.

Savanah stared after him. So, he thought she had the heart of a warrior, did he? Whether it was true or not remained to be seen. Still, she thought it might be the nicest compliment she had ever received.

She just hoped he was right.

Unable to sleep, Savanah flopped over onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. So much had happened in the last few weeks. She had met Rane. She had lost her father. She had discovered that her parents were Vampire hunters, and that the man she was falling in love with, the man she had slept with all too soon, was a Vampire.

And tomorrow morning, her father would be laid to rest. She couldn't believe he was gone, that the one constant in her life had been taken from her. Tears burned the backs of her eyes. William Gentry had been a good provider, a loving husband and father. He had taught her right from wrong, told her what he expected, and let her make her own mistakes. He had trusted her judgment, and on those occasions when she had made the wrong decision, he had wiped her tears and put her on her feet again, admonishing her to remember what she had learned so she didn't make the same mistake twice. He had praised her talents and encouraged her in everything she put her mind to, and now he was gone.

Tomorrow, she would pay her last respects and then, for the first time in her life, she would be truly alone.

Turning onto her side, she buried her face in the pillow and let the tears flow.

 

Savanah awoke late after a long and restless night. Her dreams had been dark and unsettling. At first, she had wandered through gray mists and ever-changing shadows, searching for something that was just out of reach, and then she had started running, hurrying through the darkness as if her life depended on it, fleeing from a faceless wraith clad in long black robes. Death, she thought, she had been running from Death.

Sitting up, she clutched the pillow to her chest. Was it Death who had pursued her so relentlessly, she wondered, or Rane?

A glance at her watch told her she didn't have time to worry about it; her father's funeral was only two hours away.

Tossing the pillow aside, she wasted several minutes looking for her mother's books. She wasn't surprised when she couldn't find them. For all she knew, Rane had put some sort of Supernatural hex on the volumes. Drat the man's Supernatural abilities. She could be looking right at the books and not know it.

With a sigh of exasperation, she headed for the door, only to stop short as two thoughts crossed her mind, the first coming hard on the heels of the second. She was wearing her PJs and a robe, and her car was at home. Tapping her foot, she glanced around the room. Spying Rane's cell phone, she picked it up to call a cab, only then noticing the note beneath the phone.

Barefooted, she padded into the kitchen. In passing, she noted that the room was empty save for an electric stove and a refrigerator. She wondered why a Vampire would have need of either one, and then remembered he was renting the house, so the appliances had most likely come with the place.

It wasn't until she was driving home that she realized she had missed a pair of golden opportunities—a rare opportunity to see a Vampire at rest, and the chance to make her first kill.

 

The sky was gray and there was a hint of rain in the air as Savanah picked her way around the tombstones to her father's final resting place. Her uncle Arthur trailed at her heels. He had called earlier, asking if he could drive her to the funeral.

The service at the church had been well-attended by those she and her father worked with at the newspaper. Uncle Arthur had given the eulogy.

Savanah blinked back her tears as she stared at the bronze casket covered by a blanket of red and white roses.

She scarcely heard the words that were spoken over the grave, felt numb as she shook hands and received condolences from her friends and coworkers.

She stood at the graveside long after the mourners had left, unable to tear herself away.

“Savanah? Are you ready to go?”

At the sound of her uncle's voice, Savanah glanced over her shoulder. Arthur Gentry was ten years older than her father and had a net worth of several million dollars. He lived in a swanky penthouse in New York, leased a new car every year, and had a summer home at Hyannisport. From time to time, she had seen his picture online or in the New York papers, always with a beautiful woman on his arm, but rarely the same woman. Savanah had often wondered why her uncle had never married; it seemed he could have his pick of the ladies.

The last time Savanah had seen her uncle had been at her mother's funeral. When she called to tell him of her father's passing, she had been surprised when her uncle said he was flying in for the service. Arthur and her father had had a bitter quarrel over thirty years ago, and as far as Savanah knew, they had barely spoken a word to each other since. Her father had never told her what the fight was about, but it hardly mattered now.

“He was a good man,” Arthur remarked quietly. “An honorable man. I'm sorry for the years we spent apart.”

“What did you fight about?”

He hesitated, as though debating whether or not he should tell her, and then said, “Your mother. Come on, let's go get a drink.”

Savanah followed him to where his rental car, a new Lincoln convertible, was parked, waited while he opened the door for her, then ducked inside. The interior was luxurious, outfitted with every extra imaginable.

“Any place in particular you'd care to go?” Arthur asked.

Savanah gave him directions to the club where Rane had taken her, but when they reached the place where it should have been, it wasn't there.

“That's odd,” she remarked. “I was sure this was the address.”

“No matter,” Arthur said, “we'll find a place.”

A short time later, he pulled into the parking lot of Sid's Tap Room, handed her out of the car, and followed her inside. Savanah had only been to Sid's once before. It was a hangout for the older crowd, mostly retired men who wanted to get out of the house for a few hours. There was a pool table in one corner. Pictures of prominent sports figures lined the walls. Arthur ordered a shot and a beer. Savanah asked for a white wine spritzer.

“Why did you and Dad fight over my mother?” Savanah asked.

“Because I was in love with her, too.”

“You were?”

He nodded.

“Is that why you never married?”

“Yeah. I'd been in love with the most wonderful woman in the world. I never found anyone who could take her place, and I wasn't willing to settle for anything less.” He shook his head. “I begged her to marry me. I could have given her the world, but she didn't want the world. She wanted Will.”

“But after so long…” Savanah shook her head. “Surely there have been other women you cared for.”

“Two or three, but they couldn't hold a candle to your mother, and after a while…” He shrugged. “After a while I was too set in my ways to change, and too stubborn to settle for second best.”

Their drinks arrived then. Arthur tossed back the whiskey as if he couldn't go another minute without it, then stared into the empty shot glass. “I miss her every damn day. My only consolation, and it's damned little, is that Will made her happy.” He picked up his beer and took a long drink. “At least they're together now.”

It was late afternoon when Arthur drove Savanah home.

“Would you like to come in?” she asked. “We could order some takeout for dinner.”

“No, thanks, I've got a plane to catch.”

“So soon?”

“Too many memories here,” Arthur said, glancing past her to the house. “If you ever need anything, call me.” Taking her hand, he gave it a squeeze. “I mean it, Savanah. Anything at all, day or night. Whatever I have is yours.”

“Thank you. And thank you for coming. It meant a lot to me to have you here.”

Arthur Gentry blew out a heavy sigh, then patted her arm. “I just wish I hadn't let my pride keep me away from you and your father for so long. Keep in touch with your old uncle now, hear?”

“I will.” Leaning toward him, she kissed him on the cheek, murmured “Good-bye, Uncle,” and got out of the car.

Standing on the sidewalk, she watched him drive away, thinking that a new car every year and millions of dollars in the bank didn't guarantee happiness.

Feeling more alone than she ever had in her life, she walked up the stairs to the porch, unlocked the front door, and stepped inside.

The silence of the house engulfed her; the emptiness screamed in her ears. Never again would she hear her father's voice welcoming her home or asking how her day had gone. Never again would she share a quiet evening with him, or engage in a lively discussion about the day's events. Should she marry, he wouldn't be there to walk her down the aisle. He would never see his grandchildren, never hold a granddaughter on his lap, or take a grandson fishing. Her father was gone, stolen from her by some blood-thirsty creature of the night.

After closing and locking the door behind her, she retrieved her mother's Vampire hunting kit from under the bed and went through it piece by gruesome piece, familiarizing herself with each item. The stakes were long, smooth, and sturdy, the points very sharp. The mallet was heavier than it looked. Was it only her imagination, or did the vials of holy water feel warm to the touch? A wave of revulsion swept through her as she picked up a small hand-saw. She told herself she could do whatever was necessary to avenge her father, but inwardly she was assailed by doubts. Too bad she wasn't hunting Werewolves, she thought with a morbid grin. You could kill them from a distance with a silver bullet. So much easier and less messy than driving a wooden stake into a creature's heart, or cutting off its head.

It wasn't until later that evening, as she relaxed in the bathtub, that she remembered being unable to find the nightclub where Rane had taken her. After getting out of the tub, she slipped on her robe, went downstairs, and pulled the phone book from the desk drawer.

“Hell's Hollow,” she murmured, thumbing through the pages. “Where are you?”

It was nowhere to be found. She went through the
H
's twice, but to no avail. There was no listing for Hell's Hollow. Picking up her cell phone, she dialed Information. They had no listing.

Frowning, Savanah tapped her fingers on the desktop. The nightclub existed. She had been there. Why was there no listing? And why hadn't she been able to find the place this afternoon?

The answer popped into her mind. Because Rane didn't want her to. And why wouldn't he want her to find it again? Because it was a Vampire hangout, of course. How could she have been so blind? No doubt everyone in the club had been a Vampire or dating one.

The thought had no sooner crossed her mind than the doorbell rang. She knew it was Rane before she answered the door.

“Speak of the devil, and he appears,” she murmured as she went to let him in.

Rane's gaze moved over Savanah, noting the sadness in her eyes. He had never lost anyone he loved. Save for the pain of separating himself from his family, he had never experienced grief.

Savanah frowned when he continued to stand on the porch. “Are you coming in?”

“Are you inviting me?”

“What?” She frowned at him a moment; then, remembering that she had rescinded her invitation, she said, “I forgot. Come on in.”

He followed her into the living room, sat beside her on the sofa. Her sorrow was a palpable presence in the room. Wordlessly, he opened his arms.

Savanah took refuge in his embrace, finding solace in the strength of his arms around her, in the presence of another soul. She frowned, wondering if Vampires even had a soul, but at the moment, it didn't matter. She didn't want to be alone with her grief.

They sat in silence for a time. Finally, unable to hold back her tears, Savanah buried her face in the hollow of his shoulder and wept.

Rane blew out a sigh. At a loss for words, he stroked her back, brushed a kiss across the top of her head. Her hair was soft and smelled of strawberries.

“I'm sorry,” Savanah murmured as she sat up. “I didn't mean to cry all over you.”

“I don't mind.”

“I just can't believe he's gone,” she said, sniffling. “Have you ever lost anyone?”

“No.”

“Have you ever loved anyone?”

“Just my family.”

Savanah reached for a tissue from the box on the end table. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “Haven't you ever been in love?”

“You mean besides now?”

She looked up at him, startled by his words. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I'm in love with you.” It was wrong, and he knew it. He had no right to love her, or any woman. He had done despicable things, horrible things, for which he would find no forgiveness in this life or the next. But the fact remained that he had fallen in love with her. He shrugged. “I thought you should know.”

“Rane…”

“You must have known, or at least suspected.”