Night's Surrender

  “About a week, dear. We need to gather the ingredients, and then it has to cook for at least forty-eight hours.”

  “We don’t have any left from the last batch,” Edna added. “Of course, even if we did, it wouldn’t work on you. We’ll need to triple the potency.”

  “Quadruple, maybe,” Pearl said.

  Nick braced his shoulder against the doorjamb. “Why are all those hunters after you?”

  The women exchanged uneasy glances.

  “I can always force you to tell me,” he remarked.

  Pearl shot him a disproving glance. “As far as we know, it’s because of the McDonald sisters.”

  “It was self-defense!” Edna said with asperity.

  Nick snorted softly. “It doesn’t matter to me. Fewer hunters in the world is a good thing in my book. How did the coalition find out it was the two of you?”

  Edna stared into her wineglass. “We’ve been asking ourselves that very question. No one else was there when it happened, except Derek. And he wouldn’t have told anyone.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “Of course! How could you even think he would . . . ?

  “All right, all right, forget it.”

  Pearl frowned. “You know, there is one other possibility.”

  “Let’s hear it,” Nick said curtly.

  “McDonald and her sister found us in a bar.” Pearl sipped her wine, her brow furrowed. “There’s always a chance there was another hunter there. One we didn’t see. . . .”

  Nick shook his head. “And you just now thought of that?”

  “It was a bad night,” Edna exclaimed. “We were lucky to get away with our lives.”

  “You know, dear, I think there was another hunter there. . . .” Pearl’s voice trailed off.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t you remember? I told you that Rivers looked familiar. He was at the club that night.” She nodded. “In fact, now that I think back, I’m sure of it.”

  Rivers, Nick thought. He was one of the hunters with Meloni’s crowd.

  “Well, you picked a fine time to remember that little detail!” Edna declared.

  “We gave him our cure!” Pearl said indignantly. “Why would he tell his hunter friends that we killed the McDonalds?”

  “Maybe he told them before his daughter was bitten,” Edna suggested.

  “Or maybe your cure killed her,” Nick said dryly. “Whatever the reason, a lot of hunters are now after you.”

  “Life was a lot less complicated when we were the hunters,” Edna muttered.

  Pearl blew out a sigh. “I think you’re right, dear.”

  “Forget the hunters,” Nick growled. “And get to work on that cure.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Abbey called home as soon as she woke.

  Her father answered on the first ring. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

  “We’re fine. I went into town about an hour ago. There was no sign of the hunters anywhere. The clerk said Meloni checked out of the motel early this morning. Something must have spooked her.”

  “What do you think it was?”

  “I don’t know. How are things in Transylvania?”

  “Fine. Nick took me sightseeing yesterday. It’s a lovely country, at least what I’ve seen of it.”

  “What’s Mara’s castle like? I’ve always wanted to see the place.”

  “Other than the fact that it’s woefully lacking in electricity, running water, flush toilets, and showers, I guess it’s all right. Oh, I left out really big and drafty.”

  “Roughing it, huh?” her father asked, chuckling.

  “Guess who else is here?”

  “I don’t know. Who?”

  “Edna and Pearl.”

  “What are they doing there?”

  “Hiding out, I guess. They really are something, aren’t they?”

  “Something else,” her father muttered dryly.

  “They had two men locked up in the dungeon when we got here. Can you believe it? Stop laughing, it isn’t funny.”

  Rane cleared his throat. “Sorry, but it is funny. I’ll bet Mara was fit to be tied.”

  “You could say that.”

  “Well, they couldn’t have picked a safer place,” Rane mused. “No one’s going to look for them there.”

  “I guess not. Since the hunters are gone, can I come home now?”

  “Wait a few days.”

  “Do I have to?”

  “Humor me, okay?”

  “Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

  “No, I just want to be sure it’s safe, that’s all.”

  “Okay. Give my love to Mom. And be careful.”

  “You too.”

  Abbey disconnected the call and tossed her phone on the bed. So, the hunters were gone. Why had they given up so easily? And where were they now?

  Rising, she stepped into her slippers, then filled the basin on the dresser with water from the ewer and washed her face and hands. Tonight, come hell or high water, she was having a bath!

  Her stomach growled loudly as she dried her hands. Only then did it occur to her that she was the only mortal in the house and that she wasn’t likely to find anything to eat in the place.

  She was wondering how far it was to the village when she saw the note tacked to the bedroom door.

  There’s food and drink in the kitchen. Mara

  Making her way downstairs, Abbey thought it surprising that her godmother would have thought of providing for her. After all, it had been over a quarter of a century since Mara had eaten mortal food.

  In the kitchen, Abbey found a box of groceries on the table and an ice chest on the floor. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a glass of milk served as breakfast.

  After carrying her meal into the great hall, she curled up on the sofa. Nibbling on her sandwich, she thought about Nick. Why had he been reluctant to spend the night in the castle? And if he hadn’t stayed here, where had he gone?

  And when would she see him again?

  Nick stirred, wondering what had roused him. And then he knew. He smiled with the knowledge that Abbey was thinking of him. Funny, he thought, how strong their bond was, considering he had only tasted a small amount of her blood.

  And had hungered for more ever since.

  Last night, he had decided to take his rest inside the castle. To that end, he had gone into the city, awakened one of the merchants, and procured a twin bed, which he had set up in the empty bedroom next to Abbey’s.

  Now, lacing his hands behind his head, he stared up at the frescoed ceiling, which depicted chubby, fresh-faced angels and laughing fairies frolicking amid rainbow-colored clouds. No doubt the room had once been a nursery. He grinned, thinking the artist would likely be horrified to discover an ancient vampire sleeping beneath his masterpiece.

  Nick’s thoughts turned to Edna and Pearl. He doubted their so-called cure would work, but for Abbey’s sake, he was willing to give it a try. Although she hadn’t said as much, he knew she had no desire to become a vampire. It seemed odd to him that, having been raised by a family of vampires, she had no wish to join them.

  On the other hand, given a choice, he wasn’t sure he would have chosen such a life for himself either. He had grown to accept what he was, but there remained an emptiness inside, a sense of not being a part of the world around him, that had never disappeared. At times, he felt as if he was viewing the world from the outside, like a spectator watching a play. The actors changed, the scenery changed, but he remained forever the same.

  Perhaps human life was precious because it was so short. Mortals never knew, from one day to the next, whether they would survive to see another sunrise. Most vampires—knowing that they had hundreds of years ahead of them—became indifferent to matters of life and death. The majority of vampires forgot all too quickly what it had been like to be human. In time, men and women became nothing mo
re than a source of nourishment. Or a form of idle amusement. Humans were such fragile creatures, so easily frightened, so easily manipulated. A thought could turn them into little more than zombies, compelled to do a vampire’s bidding.

  And yet the Cordova family had managed to retain a portion of their humanity. They shared territory with one another. They had successful marriages. They didn’t kill their prey. They didn’t see mortals as nothing more than a food source. Truly, they were unique among their kind.

  His thoughts turned to Abbey. Always Abbey. She was a sweet, gentle, caring young woman, an earthly angel who deserved far better than someone like him. He knew a moment of regret for having entangled her in his life.

  But she was his now, and only death would part them.

  Abbey smiled when she looked up and saw Nick coming down the winding staircase. “Were you looking for me?” she asked.

  “Of course not,” he said, sweeping her off the sofa and into his arms. “I can always find you. But FYI, I took the room next to yours so you can find me.”

  Before she could reply to this unexpected news, his mouth closed over hers in a searing kiss that told her he had missed her as much as she had missed him.

  Nick felt all his desires spring to vibrant life as she kissed him back. Fighting the temptation to take her there, on the floor, he lifted his head and drew a deep breath. She stared up at him through half-glazed eyes. The rapid beat of her heart called to him, the whisper of the red tide flowing through her veins fired his hunger.

  Raining kisses across the top of her head, he backed toward the sofa and sat down. After settling her on his lap, he kissed her again. And again.

  She was practically gasping for air when he lifted his head. “Abbey, I need a favor.”

  She blinked at him. “A favor?”

  He nodded, wondering how to ask for what he so desperately desired without freaking her out.

  “What do you need?” she asked quietly, and then, apparently seeing the hunger burning in his eyes, she gasped, one hand going protectively to her throat.

  “I’m sorry,” he said gruffly. “Forget it.”

  “Why are you asking me?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Last time you took what you wanted without my even being aware of it.”

  “As I recall, you weren’t too happy about that.”

  She didn’t deny it. “Will it hurt?”

  “No.” His finger traced the curve of her throat. “You’ll enjoy it.”

  She looked skeptical.

  “Trust me?”

  “You’ll stop if I don’t like it?”

  “I promise.”

  She worried her lower lip between her teeth a moment, then turned her head to the side, offering him her throat.

  He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of her skin, her blood, hearing the sudden uptick in the beat of her heart, the unmistakable smell of fear on her skin.

  Drawing her into his arms, he kissed her, his hands stroking her back, gentling her to his touch as if she was a skittish mare. He murmured to her as he scattered feather-light kisses along the length of her neck and when she was relaxed, pliant, he took what he wanted, what he needed. He took only a little, knowing the only way to truly satisfy his hunger would be to take it all.

  She moaned softly, her hands clutching his shoulders, when he lifted his head. A lick of his tongue sealed the wounds.

  “Abbey?”

  “Mmm?”

  “Are you all right?”

  “What? Oh, yes, I’m fine.” She sighed, her lips curving in a smile. “That was wonderful.” She looked up at him, her brow furrowing as her fingertips stroked his neck. “What does vampire blood taste like?”

  He lifted one brow. “Why?”

  “I’m just curious. Does it taste the same as mine?”

  “No. It’s thicker. Darker. Curious, Pandora? Ready to open the box?”

  “Maybe.”

  Still watching her, he bit into his wrist, then held out his arm. “Go ahead.”

  “Don’t I get to bite you?”

  “No.” He jerked his chin toward the blood oozing from his wrist. “Change your mind?”

  She stared at the dark red blood, a faint look of revulsion in her eyes, and then she lowered her head and licked several drops from his skin. “Oh!” Her head jerked up, her eyes filled with wonder. “It’s . . . It’s . . . I don’t know how to describe it! I mean, it’s like swallowing lightning!”

  Nick laughed softly, then hugged her close as the bond between them grew deeper, stronger.

  “You enjoyed it, too, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, love, though not as much as you did. There is a vast difference between taking a lick to satisfy a moment’s curiosity and drinking to satisfy a craving that can’t be denied.”

  “I’ll have to take your word for that,” she said primly.

  He laughed again. “You never fail to delight me, my sweet. Curious as a cat one moment, and uncertain the next.”

  She snuggled against him, wondering at the subtle change in her feelings toward him, her heightened awareness of him beside her. Almost it seemed as though her heart had slowed to beat in time with his, but that was just her imagination, of course.

  She lifted a hand to her throat. Her skin was slightly warm where he had bitten her. He had taken her blood. She had tasted his. The mere idea should have repulsed her. Instead, it filled her with an unexpected sense of satisfaction. Of belonging. “Do vampires drink from each other?”

  “Occasionally.”

  “Do mortals ever drink from you?”

  “Not from me. But there are vampires who will allow mortals—mostly Goths—to drink their blood. Why? Do you want some more?”

  “Not right now.”

  Nick laughed softly. “Too much probably wouldn’t be good for you.” He stroked her cheek. His blood was very old, very powerful. The blood of the ancients, when taken too often, had been known to drive men insane. But small amounts had cured the sick, healed or prolonged the life of the dying. “Enough talk about blood. What would you like to do today?”

  “I don’t care, as long as we’re together.”

  “I’ve always wanted to visit Sighisoara. Are you game?”

  “Let’s go!”

  Hand in hand, Nick and Abbey toured the historic center. Abbey was thrilled to find a renaissance festival in full swing. Everywhere she looked, there were people in medieval costumes—knights and peasants, musicians and craftsmen, farmers and clerics. She loved the old-world charm of the place—the buildings in pastel shades of gold and green and pink and blue, the cobbled streets, the ornate churches, the medieval architecture, the turrets and towers.

  They walked along narrow alleyways and hilly streets, and up steep flights of stairs. Later, they rested in a secluded square. Referring to a guidebook she had picked up along the way, Abbey learned that the city had a population of over thirty-two thousand and had been inhabited since the sixth century BC.

  Not surprisingly, there was a page devoted to Vlad Dracula, also known as Vlad Tepes and Vlad the Impaler.

  “He was born here in Sighisoara,” Nick remarked, reading over her shoulder.

  “Do you think he was really a vampire?”

  “Not to my knowledge. But anything is possible. Most rumors carry a grain of truth.”

  “That’s no answer.”

  “In spite of all the hype, I don’t think he was a vampire,” Nick said, chuckling. “But if he was, I’d like to meet him.”

  They spent the rest of the day wandering through the city. Abbey sampled a variety of food offered at some of the medieval booths; they stopped at a café where she ate a late lunch, then strolled through a gift shop where Nick bought her a delicate scarf in muted shades of mauve, blue, and lavender.

  At dusk, she was ready to go home.

  Gathering her into his arms, Nick whispered, “Hang on,” and whisked them back to Mara’s castle.

  After seeing Abbey safely
home, Nick left to go hunting.

  Mara and Logan left shortly after he did. Apparently Edna and Pearl had also gone hunting.

  Sitting on the sofa, her bare feet propped on a low table, Abbey spent several minutes contemplating the whole predator-prey scenario. Was it better to be the hunter, ever in search of prey? Or the hunted, always in danger? The lion or the lamb? If she had a choice, which would she rather be?

  She thought about the nature films she had seen in school—brutal scenes of lions bringing down deer, sharks hunting seals, foxes chasing rabbits.

  “Much better to be the hunter,” she decided. And then she smiled. “Unless it’s Nick hunting me.”

  Of course, in her case, there was no hunting involved. He asked and she acquiesced.

  She sat up straight, her gaze darting left and right when she heard a noise from upstairs. She chided herself for being so jumpy when the noise came again. It was just the wind. Of course, who could blame her for being a little on edge? She had spent the day in the heart of Dracula country. And it was more than a little spooky, being in Mara’s drafty old castle all alone. It was exactly like the setting used for all those old Dracula movies. And carried the same scary atmosphere prevalent in those silly teen flicks where the heroine—alone and unarmed—went haring off to explore the dungeon.

  Determined to have a bath and wash her hair, Abbey filled several large cast-iron pots with water and set them to warm in the hearth in the kitchen while she went looking for a bathtub. She found one in a room off the kitchen. She had intended to carry it up to her bedchamber. Looking at it now, she wondered what she’d been thinking. There was no way she could carry the thing into the kitchen, let alone up the stairs.

  When the water was hot, she dumped it in the tub, added a bit of cold, then rummaged in the box of supplies, wondering if Mara had thought to include soap.

  She found a lavender-scented bar in the bottom, along with a washcloth, a bath towel, a toothbrush, and a tube of toothpaste. Silently thanking Mara for her thoughtfulness, Abbey undressed and stepped into the tub. She sighed with pleasure as the warm water closed over her.