Twilight Dreams (4 page)

He was making his way to his lair when he caught Leticia Braga's scent again. Dissolving into mist, Micah hastened away.

Braga was supposed to be hunting Saintcrow.

So, why the hell was she following him?

Chapter Six

Holly spent most of the night tossing and turning, her mind and her dreams filled with images of Micah. He was the sexiest, strangest man she had ever met. Try as she might, she could think of no reason why he would leave so abruptly. One minute they were in each other's arms exchanging kisses so hot she thought she might go up in flames, and the next he was out the door without a backward glance.

Holly racked her brain, trying to recall if she had said or done anything to make him angry or hurt his feelings, but she couldn't think of a thing.

She was still fretting over it when her alarm went off.

Rising, she went out on the front porch to get the newspaper. She scanned the headlines while eating a bowl of oatmeal swimming in butter and brown sugar. She paused, spoon in hand, when she read the lead article on the second page.

Holly felt sick to her stomach as she read the story, which stated that Joseph Burke's body had been found by bikers early Saturday morning on a sandy stretch of land three miles out of town. Bite marks on the victim's neck and a heavy loss of blood led police to believe he had been attacked by a wild animal, possibly a rabid wolf, though they were waiting on results from the coroner. Burke had last been seen Thursday night at popular goth hangout The Lair. Police were asking anyone with information to contact them immediately.

Holly pushed the bowl aside, her appetite gone. No wonder Burke hadn't shown up for their meeting Friday night. She glanced at the story again, her gaze drawn to the words,
bite marks on his neck . . . possibly from a wild animal.
She shuddered.

There were no wolves in the city, rabid or otherwise.

Bite marks on his neck . . . last seen at The Lair, a popular hangout for the goth crowd.

And wannabe vampires.

If she didn't know better, she'd think Joseph Burke had found a real one.

* * *

Holly had a difficult time concentrating at work Monday morning. Soon after she arrived, she met with Mr. Gladstone, who had also read the article about Mr. Burke's death in the paper. Apparently, so had everyone else in the company. It was all the talk in the cafeteria, with varying opinions on how he'd died, most of them absurd.

“Maybe it was a drug deal gone bad,” her friend Coy suggested.

“And they tried to make it look like a vampire bit him?” asked Lynn, who worked in the accounting department. There was no missing the sarcasm in her voice.

“Well, it certainly wasn't a wild animal attack,” Coy retorted, “unless there's a lion or a tiger running loose in the city.”

“Lions and tigers eat their kills,” Mr. Keith from Legal ventured. “They don't drain them of blood.”

He should know, Holly thought, since he had gone big-game hunting when he was a young man. “So, you're saying it was a vampire?” Holly asked skeptically. “A real vampire attacked Burke?”

“Have you got a better explanation?” Coy asked.

Holly shook her head.

She was glad to see the day come to an end. She had just shut down her computer and was about to leave when her cell phone rang.

“Hello.”

“Holly? It's me, Micah.”

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice frosty.

“Listen, I'm sorry about last night. I was wondering if you'd give me a chance to make it up to you.”

“I don't know.”

“I can't blame you for being upset, but I'd really like to see you again. How about Friday night?”

“I'll think about it.”

“All right, sunshine. I'll call you in a few days.”

Holly felt the ice around her heart melt a little, but how could she help it, the way that sexy voice of his caressed the word
sunshine
?

“Holly?”

“Fine. I'll talk to you then.”

* * *

Micah slid his phone into his back pocket. He supposed Holly had every right to be annoyed with him. After a quick make-out session on her sofa, he had left her hot and bothered with no explanation, but then, he could hardly tell her that, had he stayed longer, her health—hell, her life—might have been in danger.

Or that the scent of her blood had been driving him dangerously close to the edge of his self-control.

Or that he had left her to go in search of prey.

None of those options had been remotely feasible, he thought wryly.

Not then.

And not now.

Of course, there was always the truth, but that didn't seem like a smart move, either, especially since news of Joseph Burke's recent demise had been splashed across every paper and blog in Southern California. The press might claim Burke had been attacked by a wild animal, but Burke had been killed by a vampire. Of that, Micah had little doubt. And since he hadn't done it, he figured Leticia Braga was the culprit.

Shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans, Micah strolled down the sidewalk, his thoughts fragmented. He wondered what his odds were of getting another date with Holly, why Braga had been following him the other night, and how Saintcrow and Kadie were getting along back in Morgan Creek.

Feeling suddenly homesick, he pulled out his phone and punched in his parents' number.

“Micah!”

“Hi, Mom. How's it going?”

“Oh, you know, same as always. I'm worried about Sofia.”

“Is she still in goth mode?” Sofia was obsessed with vampires. She read every book she could find on the subject, both fiction and nonfiction. She watched every movie, had posters of Dracula on her bedroom walls. Her favorite color was black.

“It isn't funny, Mikey. She's acting moody and withdrawn. All she does is sit in her room with the doors closed and listen to music.”

“Ma, that's what teenagers do, remember? It's just a phase. Stop worrying. She'll get over it.” He sure as hell hoped so, Micah thought, because the more Sofia learned about the Undead, the more likely she was to start noticing the similarities between the vampires she read about and her own brother.

“I hope you're right,” his mother said, sighing. “Where are you? Are you coming home?”

“I'm in California.”

“I guess that means we won't be seeing you any time soon. How's the acting business?”

“Slow, Ma.” He hated lying to her, but having the family think he was still trying to break into show business was his best excuse for not moving back home. “How's Dad?” His father hadn't been in the best of health the last time he'd seen him.

“He's feeling much better. His doctor put him on some new medication, and it's working wonders. Katy's starting school next year—can you believe it? And Todd broke his arm climbing over the neighbor's fence, and . . .”

Micah closed his eyes, his yearning for home swelling within him as his mother continued to bring him up-to-date on the rest of his nieces and nephews.

He was depressed as hell when he said good-bye.

A thought took him to Holly's house. Standing out of sight in the shadows, he closed his eyes and opened his senses.

She was in the kitchen. From the sound of it, she was washing dishes. He caught the lingering scents of fried chicken and gravy and, overall, the scent of Holly herself.

The scent of her skin sparked his desire.

The scent of her blood pricked his thirst.

So easy, he thought, so easy to call her to him, to mesmerize her with a glance, to bend his head to the soft curve of her throat and drink.... Humans were repulsed by the thought of drinking blood, but he was no longer human. For him, blood was as necessary as food and drink to mortals. No two humans tasted quite the same. Some were sweet, some bitter, some intoxicating, some repellent. For his kind, humans were, quite simply, a vampire buffet.

He took a deep breath, drawing the scent of her blood deep into his lungs. She would be sweet, he thought. Sweet and satisfying as no other.

He padded silently to the front door, the tips of his fangs brushing his tongue as he climbed the porch steps and rang the bell.

He was thirsty.

And tonight, she was prey.

He muttered a vile oath. What the hell was he doing?

He was gone before she reached the door.

* * *

Holly frowned. She could have sworn she heard the doorbell, but there was no one on the porch, no one on the sidewalk. She stood there a moment, arms wrapped around her middle. Someone had been there. She was sure of it.

Overcome by a sudden, nameless fear, she darted back inside, closed the door, and turned the deadbolt, the newspaper account of Joseph Burke's death unfolding in her mind . . .
bite marks on his neck . . . vampire.

Breathing heavily, she stood with her back to the door, and then she laughed. She had to stop watching horror movies. She was letting her imagination get the best of her. There was no such thing as vampires. Or werewolves. Or zombies.

Just a foolish girl who had seen one too many Dracula movies.

* * *

During the next two days, Holly's heart skipped a beat every time her phone rang. It didn't matter that it was never Micah, or that she told herself she was still mad at him. Her foolish heart kept hoping. He continued to invade her dreams.

By Thursday evening, she had convinced herself that he had changed his mind, he was never calling, and she didn't care. It became her mantra—
I don't care. I don't care.

She was relaxing in a hot bubble bath later that night when her cell phone rang.

“Let it ring,” she muttered irritably. “I don't care.”

But the caller was persistent and the phone just kept ringing. Scrambling out of the tub, she stubbed her toe on a chair in her dash to find her phone. “Yes, hello?”

“Miss Parrish?”

“Mr. Gladstone. Is something wrong?”

“I'm sorry to bother you at home. I just wanted to let you know that the meeting scheduled for eight tomorrow morning has been canceled, and that I'll be out of the office until Monday.”

“Thanks for letting me know, sir.”

“You might want to call Maddux and make sure he's received the updated contracts.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Have a good weekend.”

“You, too. Good night.”

Holly tossed her phone on the sofa, grimaced when she saw the trail of bubbles and wet tracks leading from the bathroom to the coffee table.

Muttering, “This is all your fault, Micah Ravenwood,” she grabbed a towel and mopped up the mess.

She was headed back to the bathroom when the phone rang again. Thinking Mr. Gladstone had forgotten to tell her something, she picked it up. “Hello?”

“Hey, sunshine, did I catch you at a bad time?”

“No, why?”
Unless you consider being wet and naked and dripping all over the floor a bad time.

“You sound like you're out of breath.”

“Well, if I am, it's your fault.”

“Mine? I'm not even there.”

“Forget it.”

“You sound a little out of sorts. Maybe I should call back?”

Holly took a deep, calming breath. “No, I'm fine.”

“So, did you decide to forgive me for my churlish behavior?”

“Churlish?” she repeated, laughing. “I don't think I've ever heard anyone use that word.”

“I've missed you, sunshine.”

She bit down on her lower lip to keep from telling him she had missed him, too.

“So, are we on for Friday night?” he asked.

“I guess so.”

“What time should I pick you up?”

“I don't know. What are we going to do?”

“There's another scary movie at the multiplex.”

“No more scary movies for me. I think I'd rather go out for dinner and dancing.”

“Fine by me. I'll pick you up at eight and take you anywhere you want to go.”

“Anywhere?”

“Just name it.”

“All right. I'll let you know tomorrow night.”

“See you then. Sweet dreams, Holly.”

“Good night, Micah.”

Smiling, she pressed the phone to her heart.

Tomorrow.

She would see him tomorrow.

Chapter Seven

Friday after work, Holly paid a quick visit to her favorite boutique, where she bought a new black bra, panties, and a floor-length black dress that fit like a second skin.

At home, she took a long shower and shaved her legs. After she washed and dried her hair, she polished her nails in front of the TV, willing herself to relax while her nails dried.

She didn't know why she was so nervous. She had gone out with Micah before, but tonight she felt like a high school girl dating the captain of the football team for the first time. She was all aflutter as she slipped into her new underwear, and then into her dress.

Her heart jumped into her throat when the doorbell rang.

He was here!

She took a deep, calming breath, forced herself to walk slowly to the door and pause a moment before she opened it. “Hi.”

“Wow, girl, you look good enough to eat.”

Holly's cheeks warmed at his words, pleased beyond measure by the admiration in his beautiful dark eyes.

“Are you sure we have to go out?” he asked, his voice husky.

“What would you rather do?”

Sliding his arm around her waist, Micah drew her body against his. She leaned into him, her scent surrounding him, the beat of her heart like sweet music to his ears. “Do you have to ask?”

She stared up at him, speechless, sorely tempted to forget dinner and surrender to the naked wanting in his eyes.

Micah brushed a kiss across the top of her head, then drew back as his hunger roared to life with a vengeance. “Get your coat,” he said, giving her hand a squeeze. “I promised you dinner and dancing, and I'm a man of my word.”

* * *

The restaurant was small and intimate. Holly ordered lobster. Micah ordered the same, thinking, as he did so, that it was a waste of good money, since he couldn't eat it.

But the wine was outstanding.

They made small talk for several minutes, then Holly said, “Do you believe in vampires?”

“What the devil brought that up?”

“Remember the man I mistook you for the night we met? Joseph Burke? He was murdered.”

“Yeah, I read about that. Too bad.”

“The papers said he'd been bitten. On the neck.”

“So you think a vampire killed him?”

“It sounds silly when you say it out loud, doesn't it?”

Micah shrugged. “You know the old saying—if it bleeds, it leads. Reporters will print anything to sell more papers.”

“I guess so. Oh, my,” she exclaimed as the waitress brought their meal. “I've never seen lobsters that big.” She glanced at Micah. “Have you?”

“No.” Catching her gaze with his, he spoke to her mind, implanting the memory of the two of them enjoying the meal together.

She might have remarked on the lobster's size, but Micah noticed there was nothing left when, with a sigh of contentment, she pushed her plate aside and declared she couldn't eat another bite.

After Micah paid the check, he drove to the nightclub Holly suggested. Located in the heart of the city, Gabriella's turned out to be a small intimate club, with subdued lighting and soft music.

Micah whistled softly as a hostess led them to a high-backed booth that offered privacy from prying eyes. “If I didn't know better, Miss Parrish, I'd think you were trying to seduce me.”

“I'm not . . . I mean . . .” Feeling herself blush, Holly was grateful for the dim light that hid her heated cheeks.

“Hey, I'm not complaining,” Micah said. “Would you care to dance?”

“Well,” she said, smiling up at him, “that is why we came.”

Hand in hand, they made their way to the dance area, which was like nothing Micah had ever seen before. Tiny twinkling lights outlined the boundary of the floor while the floor itself, lit from beneath, was a sea of constantly changing colors.

Micah drew Holly into his arms, noting yet again how well they fit together. She followed his lead as if they had danced together all their lives.

Holly gazed up at Micah. He had the most incredible eyes. Bedroom eyes, she thought, and felt her cheeks grow hotter. He was an amazing dancer, so light on his feet she found herself looking down to see if he was indeed touching the floor. The way he looked at her, the way he held her, made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the place. His eyes . . . she couldn't seem to look away. Confusion filled her as his voice sounded in her mind, whispering soft, soothing words that made the room and everything in it slip away until there was only the two of them dancing in a red haze to music she could no longer hear.

“Holly, would you like another drink?”

“What?” She blinked up at him, surprised to find they were back in their booth. She stared at the empty glass in front of her. She didn't remember ordering anything.

“A drink, Holly. Do you want another martini?” Her face was a trifle pale. He hadn't intended to take more than a sip of her blood. Had he taken too much? Or was she just extra sensitive to a vampire's bite?

“No, I don't think so.” Had she only had one? She felt light-headed, disoriented.

“I think I'd better take you . . .” The words died in Micah's throat when he caught Leticia Braga's scent. Peering over the back of the booth, he saw the vampire and her bodyguard standing near the entrance, scanning the room.

Braga's gaze settled on Micah. She spoke to Mahlon, and they split up, moving toward Micah from opposite sides.

“Dammit!”

Wondering what had Micah so upset, Holly looked over the back of the booth. She didn't see anything out of the ordinary other than a very large man and a scary-looking woman. “Micah . . . ?”

“Not now.”
Shit.
He didn't know why Braga was after him, but he didn't intend to stick around to find out. Or leave Holly behind and at the vampire's mercy.

Muttering, “Hang on,” he grabbed Holly's purse, wrapped his arms around her, and closed his eyes.

Holly let out a muffled shriek as his preternatural power engulfed her.

A moment later, they stood on the bridge at the entrance of Morgan Creek.

Looking dazed and confused, Holly stared up at Micah. “What just happened? Where are we?”

Micah considered how best to answer her question, but before he could decide between the hard truth or a lie, Rylan Saintcrow materialized in front of them.

Holly stared at Saintcrow, all the color draining from her face. And then she fainted.

“Pretty girl,” Saintcrow remarked as Micah caught Holly in his arms.

“Yeah.”

“So, what brings the two of you to town?”

“Leticia Braga.”

“She's here?” Saintcrow asked, a faint note of worry evident in his voice.

“No. We were in a club in L.A., minding our own business, when she came in with her bodyguard. She was looking for me.”

“Go on.”

“I wasn't about to stand and fight, not with Holly there. I couldn't leave her behind, and I couldn't take her home for fear Braga would follow us there.” Micah shrugged. “So I brought her here. Do you mind?”

“Not at all. Does she know what you are?”

“Not yet.”

Saintcrow grunted softly. “That should be an interesting discussion.”

“Yeah.” Definitely not one Micah was looking forward to having.

“Why don't you stay at Blair House?” Saintcrow suggested. “It's the safest lair next to my own.”

“Thanks.”

“I'll put the wards up on the bridge.”

“You want to keep Braga
in
if she comes here?”

“No, you idiot. I'll reverse the wards to keep her out.”

“What about her bodyguard? Will they work on him, too?”

“They'll keep everybody out, except for you, me, and Kadie. Everybody, and everything.”

Micah nodded, then frowned. “You're not afraid of her, are you? Braga, I mean?”

“No. I can handle her. It's Mahlon that worries me. Like I told you, I don't know what he is, but she's invincible when he's with her. A lot of hunters have tried to take her out. They're all dead.” He lifted one shoulder in a negligent shrug. “It's not me I'm worried about. It's Kadie. I sired her, and that makes her more powerful than most. But she's no match for Leticia. And neither are you.”

“Yeah, thanks for reminding me.”

Saintcrow flashed a wry grin. “Bring your friend up to my place tomorrow night. I'm sure Kadie would like to meet her.”

Micah glanced at the woman in his arms. Somehow, he doubted Holly would be interested in meeting Kadie.

* * *

Holly woke with a start to find Micah watching her, his expression pensive. “What happened?” She glanced around the room, eyes narrowed and filled with confusion. “Where are we? How did we get here?”

“I needed to get out of California in a hurry,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “And I brought you with me.”

She sat up, her gaze quickly taking in her surroundings. They were in a large, sparsely furnished, rectangular room. A fireplace took up most of one wall. A tall bookcase dominated the opposite one. A coffee table separated the sofa on which she sat from the one across from it. “Brought me where?”

“Morgan Creek.”

“But, that's impossible. You said it was in Wyoming.” She cradled her head in her hands. “I feel so strange.”

“Look at me, Holly.”

She looked at him warily, fear replacing the confusion in the depths of her eyes. “I want to go home.”

“Yeah. About that, I'm afraid it's not an option at the moment.”

“Are you kidnapping me? If it's money you're after, you're out of luck. My folks aren't millionaires by any means.”

“It's late. Why don't you get some rest and we'll talk tomorrow?”

“No! We'll talk now.”

“You're tired,” he said, his voice low, hypnotic. “So tired you can't keep your eyes open.”

“Tired,” she murmured.

“That's right. Just relax. You're going to go to sleep now, and you won't wake up until the sun sets tomorrow.”

Her head lolled back on the sofa, her eyelids fluttering down as her body went limp.

Lifting her into his arms, Micah carried her down the hall and into one of the larger bedrooms. He lowered her onto the mattress and undressed her down to her lacey black bra and panties. Desire knifed through him. Tucking her under the covers, he wondered if she had expected him to seduce her, or if she just liked pretty underwear.

He studied her for several moments before leaving the bedroom.

He had never been inside Blair House before. It had once been the lair of the Morgan Creek vampires.

Now, he wandered from room to room. A number of vampires—seven men and one woman—had lived here for decades. Their scent lingered in the drapes and the carpets, in the very air. Kiel had been killed by Saintcrow for attacking Kadie. Micah wondered where the rest had gone—Nolan, Trent, Felix, Quinn, Wes, Darrick. Though he hadn't known any of them well, he couldn't help wondering how they were faring out in the human world on their own. They had been prisoners as much as the humans they preyed on in Morgan Creek, but they had been safe from hunters.

He paused outside one of the doors. Though he had never been here before, he knew the room had belonged to Morgan Creek's lone female vampire. Lilith. Even after five years, her scent remained strong. She had died in this room, destroyed by a hunter, after Saintcrow sent the humans and vampires away.

Leaving the house, Micah strolled through the town. Once the vampires left, Shirley and her friends had turned Morgan Creek into a popular rest area for tourists and travelers. The homes in the residential area, once inhabited by mortals whose sole purpose had been to supply the vampires with blood, had been rented out to tourists in the summer. The restaurant had been redecorated. Some of the old buildings, like the movie theater, had been spruced up.

A new pump had been installed at the gas station, although the old hand pump remained, for sentimental reasons. It had been a favorite picture spot for those visiting the area. Some of the older buildings had been demolished. With Shirley's passing, Micah had locked up the town. As far as he knew, no one had stayed here until Saintcrow and Kadie returned.

He paused when he passed the restaurant. Seeing it always reminded him of Shirley.

When she had first gotten sick, Micah had insisted she go see a doctor. Sure, she had been pushing fifty, but hell, these days fifty was still young. In spite of numerous tests, the doctor hadn't been able to diagnose her illness.

Micah had his own ideas about the cause of her rapid decline. He blamed it on the years she had spent nourishing the vampires of Morgan Creek. To his way of thinking, the deaths of her friends could also be blamed on the vampires. It just wasn't natural for humans to be trapped in one place like rats in a cage, or to give blood so often. Of course, they hadn't really “given” their life's blood. It had been taken from them, by force, if necessary.

But that was old news.

A thought took him to the cemetery located not far from Saintcrow's lair.

The two women who had most influenced his life, save for his sweet mother, were buried here. He stood at Lilith's grave, remembering the night she had turned him. If he lived to be a hundred, he would never forget the horror of waking as a new vampire, abandoned by his sire, with no idea how to survive in a world that was no longer his.

Had Saintcrow not taken pity on him and taught him how to survive, had Shirley not given him the love and support he so desperately needed, Micah feared he would have turned into nothing more than a killing machine, some mindless monster without a hint of humanity.