Shades of Gray (27 page)

She was making her way toward the luggage carousel when she saw Grigori.

She smiled as he walked toward her.

"Welcome home,
cara mia,"
he said, and, taking her in his arms, he hugged her as if they hadn't seen each other for years instead of three days. It made her ridiculously happy to know he had missed her as much as she had missed him.

"What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you. Let's go get your luggage."

For the first time in her life, her bags were the first down the chute.

Grigori picked up her two suitcases and tucked them under one arm; then he took her hand. "Come, I rented a limousine to take you home."

"You're kidding, right?"

"No, it's right outside."

"But my car — "

"I drove it to your apartment last night."

"Why?"

"So I could hold you in my arms that much sooner."

It was, quite possibly, the most romantic thing anyone had ever said or done.

Marisa felt like a movie star as a sleek white stretch limo pulled up to the curb. The driver got out and opened the door for them, stowed her luggage in the trunk. Minutes later, they were on the 101 Freeway headed home.

Marisa snuggled against Grigori. "This is wonderful."

"Are you thirsty? Hungry?"

"No, I'm fine."

His arm tightened around her shoulders. "Did you have a good time with your family?"

"Uh-huh. My mom always cooks enough for an army. I probably gained ten pounds." She looked up at him. "I guess that's not a problem for you, is it?"

"No."

"Lucky."

"Indeed I am."

She felt a wave of heat flood her cheeks as his gaze moved over her, possessive, admiring. "The vampire diet plan," she quipped. "Liquid protein."

One side of his mouth lifted in a wry grin. "Don't knock it until you've tried it."

"No, thank you." And then she frowned. "Wait a minute. When we went to the North Woods Inn, you ate a steak." She grimaced at the memory. "A very rare steak, but you ate it."

"Did I?"

"Of course you did. I saw you."

He smiled indulgently. "I never ate it. I only planted the idea in your mind."

She punched him on the arm. "Messing with my head again."

He shrugged. "I won't do it anymore."

"Promise?"

"Yes."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything,
cara."

"Did you take a walk on Christmas Eve?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I saw you."

Grigori frowned at her. "What do you mean?"

"I saw you in a dream. You were walking down a street, all alone. You passed a drugstore and there was an old man standing in the doorway. He was wearing a brown raincoat, and had a red scarf around his neck."

She felt the muscles in his arm tense. "Go on."

"You were going to… you know, but then you read his mind and saw that his
wife was home alone, and sick, and he had gone out in the rain to pick up a
prescription for her."

"You dreamed this?"

Marisa nodded. "You passed him by and then you went home."

His arm was like steel around her as he waited for her to continue.

She looked up, her gaze searching his. "You said life had lost its meaning for you, and then you called my name. And then
— " She shivered as the sound of the wolf's lonely cry echoed in her mind.

"And then?"

"I heard a wolf howl, and I woke up. Was it real, or just a dream?"

A muscle throbbed in his jaw. He took a deep breath, and she felt the tension flow out of him. The arm around her shoulders relaxed. "It was real,
cara mia.
It happened just as you've described."

"Did you plant those images in my mind?"

"I told you I did not."

"That's why I dream about you, isn't it? Because you gave me some of your blood. Does that mean you can make me do anything you want?"

"I could always bend your will to mine, Marisa. The little bit of blood I gave you was only to mark you as mine, to enable me to find you, to allow me to speak to your mind."

"Alexi said he could taste you."

"Alexi." Grigori glanced out the window into the darkness, wondered where his old nemesis was hiding. Had he given up the game? Or was he merely biding his time, lulling them into a false sense of security before he struck again?

"Hey, where are you?"

He smiled down at her. "Here, beside you, for as long as you want me."

"That could be a long time."

His smile turned bittersweet. "I have a long time."

"What about Ramsey?"

"What about him?"

"He said he was going to destroy you."

"He would not be the first to try. He may not be the last."

"What do you mean?"

"I've been hunted before, in times past. Those who sought to destroy me are dead."

She was face-to-face with reality again. The other night, in front of the fire, it had all seemed magical, romantic, a fairy tale.

"You killed those others?"

"Of course."

"Would you kill Edward?"

"That choice is his."

"But how? If they come after you in the daytime… I mean, I thought vampires were helpless when the sun is up."

"No. It is natural for us to sleep during the day, but only the very young are helpless. I can sense the presence of others when I sleep. The instinct to survive is as strong with us as with you. I have yet to meet a mortal I could not defeat."

She shivered, suddenly cold clear through as she pictured Edward bending over Grigori, his eyes blazing with righteous zeal as he plunged a wooden stake through the vampire's heart.

He didn't have to read her mind to know what she was thinking. Opening one of the side compartments, he withdrew a bottle of red wine. He filled two glasses, warmed one with his gaze, and handed it to Marisa.

"Drink this," he said, "and then we will speak of something more pleasant."

She did as he suggested. The wine warmed her, made her feel sleepy and relaxed.

He smiled at her over the rim of his glass. "Better?"

"Yes, much."

When she was finished, he put their glasses aside, and drew her into his arms. "We'll be home soon."

Home.
Never had the word sounded so good.

They reached her apartment a short time later. The chauffeur carried her luggage up the stairs. Grigori carried Marisa. She had protested that she could walk, but he had insisted on carrying her. And now she was sitting on his lap on the sofa. He had started a fire in the fireplace simply by willing it to happen.

"You'd be great to have along on a camping trip," Marisa remarked. "I'd never have to worry about remembering to bring matches."

Grigori grunted softly. "I'm afraid I've never been camping."

"No, I guess not."

She slid her arm around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. "I wish I didn't have to go to work tomorrow."

"I thought you liked your job."

"Oh, I do. But every time I get a few days off, I start to get lazy."

"If you don't want to go, stay home."

"Yeah, right."

"I mean it. Quit your job if you are not happy there."

"I can't do that! I've got bills to pay, you know. Rent, things like that."

"Come live with me,
cara.
Let me take care of you."

She looked up at him as a new thought occured to her. "Where do you get all your money from? You don't seem to have a job."

He shrugged. "If one is wise, one can accumulate a great deal of wealth in two hundred years."

"I guess so."

"Come,
cara,
let me take care of you."

It was tempting, oh, so tempting. She considered it for all of sixty seconds, then regretfully shook her head.

"I'd like to, but I can't." She saw the question in his eyes and covered his mouth with her hand. "It's not because you're a vampire. It has nothing to do with you. It's me. I told you before, I don't sleep around."

He lifted her hand from his mouth and kissed it. "I'm not asking you to sleep with me." His tongue stroked her palm, sending shivers racing up and down her spine. "I'm only asking you to share my home, let me take care of you. There's no need for you to work."

"But what would I do all day?"

"Whatever you want." He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, delighting in the softness of her skin. The siren call of her blood teased his hunger as surely as the warm womanly scent of her body teased his desire. "Go shopping. Sleep late. Employ a masseuse. Sit in the sun. Stroll on the beach. Take long walks in the park." He smiled at her. "In the morning."

She gazed up at him, her heart breaking because, even if she could accept his offer, he would never be able to sit in the sun with her, or walk hand in hand along the beach, or stroll through the park on a warm summer day.

"I appreciate the offer, really I do, but I can't. I'd miss working, and I like having money of my own. You're not mad, are you?"

"No,
cara."

His lips grazed her cheek, the tip of her nose, then slid down to cover her mouth. His arm tightened around her waist as he deepened the kiss, and she forgot about work, forgot about everything but the man who held her so tightly, kissed her so completely, made her heart soar with happiness. She pressed herself against him, wanting to be closer, closer.

Grigori groaned low in his throat as he absorbed her heat into himself. The sound of her heartbeat roared in his ears; the very essence of her life called to him as the scent of her blood filled his nostrils. Hunger and desire warred within him. He felt his fangs lengthen as the hunger roared to life within him. Just a taste, he thought, what could it hurt? One taste of her sweetness. So easy, he mused, so easy to take her, to look deep into her eyes arid let the power of his mind overshadow hers. She need never know….

The tension radiating from Grigori penetrated the haze of passion that engulfed her. Feeling as though she were moving through thick molasses, she drew back, her gaze searching his face. "What's wrong?"

With great effort, he subdued his hunger, felt his fangs retract. "I think I'd better say good night."

"But it's early yet."

"You are far too tempting, Marisa." He stood up, and placed her carefully on her feet. "I shall see you tomorrow night."

"All right." She swayed against him, lifting her face for his kiss. "Thanks for picking me up."

"My pleasure." Tenderly, as though she were made of the most fragile spun glass, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. "Sweet dreams,
cara."

"You too," she said, and then frowned. "Do you dream?"

He traced her lips with his fingers. "I didn't," he replied softly, "until I met you.
Buono notte, cara mia."

"Good night."

With a sigh, she locked the door behind him. Feeling giddy as a schoolgirl, she sat down on the sofa and gazed dreamily into the fire, a pillow clutched to her breast.

She was in love with Grigori Chiavari. The thought was both thrilling and frightening.

Marisa Chiavari… Mrs. Grigori Chiavari… Mrs. Marisa Chiavari…

Giggling, she kissed the pillow. She'd never felt like this in her whole life. It was wonderful and scary, exhilarating and frightening, all at the same time. And, most of all, it was impossible. How could she be in love with a vampire?

Lost in thought, Grigori walked the dark streets. Before Alexi's escape from Silvano, before Marisa, his life had followed a set path. He had traveled the world, following winter, when darkness was long upon the earth. He was not a eunuch, not a monk. There had been women in his life. He had felt a warm affection for them all, but none had claimed his heart or spoken to his soul. He had pursued knowledge, embraced the arts, enjoyed theater and opera. His physical wants were few and easily satisfied.

But when Silvano had taken Alexi on tour, his peaceful days had been shattered. And then he had met Marisa… ah, Marisa, with her sun-kissed beauty and clear green eyes. Marisa, whose blood sang a siren song to his hunger, whose beauty tugged at his heart and soul even as her shapely form whispered to the desire of the flesh. But it was more than outer beauty or lust that drew him to her side again and again. It was the purity of her soul, her innate sweetness, the compassion that allowed her to look past what he had become and see the man he had once been.

Marisa . . Could he hold her, make love to her as he longed to do, and not destroy her? Since being made Vampyre, he had made love to many women, but never to a woman he loved.

A wave of guilt rose up within him. How could he think of loving Marisa when he had stood at Antoinette's graveside only weeks ago? And yet, she had been dead to him for centuries.

Awareness flowed through him and he whirled around, his eyes probing the shadows. "Come out, Ramsey. I know you are there."

A dark form materialized from behind a tree.

Edward Ramsey hunched his shoulders. Standing in the glow of a streetlight, he felt exposed, vulnerable. "Chiavari."

"Did you want to see me?" Grigori asked. And then he saw the bag hanging from Ramsey's shoulder. "Let me guess. Would you be carrying a hammer and a stake in that sack?"

Edward cleared his throat. Sweat beaded on his brow and pooled under his arms, but he kept his expression blank.

Grigori took a step forward. "Afraid, vampyre hunter?"

Ramsey lifted his chin a notch and shook his head.

"Liar." The softly spoken word seemed to hang in the air between them. "Did you perhaps think I would be foolish enough to lead you to my lair?"

Edward shrugged. He could feel his pulse racing. What was worse, he knew the vampire could smell his fear, hear the frantic beating of his heart.

"So," Grigori mused, "I take it you've decided you don't need me anymore."

"Alexi's gone. He's no threat now. But you are."

"I mean you no harm, Ramsey. You, or anyone else."

"You're a killer! You're all killers!"

"I've killed no one."

"Who's lying now?"

"Save for those who have tried to destroy me, I've killed no one in over a hundred and fifty years."