Night's Promise

  “What do you think?” His gaze met hers, his eyes dark, haunted.

  She read the answer in his eyes before he turned away from her again.

  He was afraid, she realized, afraid that she would no longer see him as a man, but as a monster. Even though she knew he was a vampire, even though she had given him her own blood and would gladly do so again, he didn’t want her to see him hunt his prey. It was almost as if he was ashamed of what he had to do to survive.

  And even as the thought crossed her mind, she knew that was the real answer.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked such a thoughtless thing.” She laid a tentative hand on his back. “Forgive me?”

  “There’s nothing to forgive.”

  “You should go.”

  He nodded once, briefly, grabbed his clothes, and was gone.

  “You’re an idiot, Sheree Blackwood.” With a sigh of exasperation, she pounded her fist on the pillow. “How could you have been so blasted stupid?”

  Derek found an upscale nightclub in the nearest city. There had been a time when bars closed, usually around two A.M., but these days, you could always find one that stayed open all night.

  He ordered a glass of wine and carried it to a small table in the shadows. There were only a few people in the place at this hour—lonely people who didn’t want to go home, or those just getting off work who needed to unwind a little before going to bed. Sad, unhappy people, mostly. One young woman sat alone at the end of the bar. She downed two drinks, one after the other, then sat there, staring at the empty glasses.

  Derek sipped his drink, thinking about Sheree’s request. Of all the things she could have asked him, that was one thing he had never considered. Growing up, he had watched his mother hunt. At times, she was gentle as she seduced her victims, taking only what she needed, wiping the memory from their minds. But she could be a ruthless predator when the occasion called for it. He had seen her kill on several occasions—quickly, cleanly, with no regrets, no apologies.

  Sheree had seen the violence in him, but those occasions had been to protect her life, or his own. She had never seen him hunt his prey; if he had his way, she never would.

  When the young woman left the bar, he followed her down the street. Taking care to block his link to Sheree, he called his prey to him and took what he wanted.

  It was near dawn when Derek returned to the castle. Sheree was asleep, her cheek pillowed on her hand, her face damp with tears.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  “So am I.”

  “I thought you were sleeping.”

  “I was waiting for you.”

  “Sheree, I . . .”

  “Shh, you don’t have to explain. I think I understand.” Sitting up, she brushed her hair behind her ear. “You need to drink from me.”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “Pearl said . . .”

  “I don’t give a damn what she said!”

  “Please, if it will help, you’ve got to.”

  He wanted to lash out, to drive his fist against the wall, to bewail the fate that had cursed him with the blood of not one monster, but two. And then, perhaps feeling guilty, that same fate had sent him an angel to ease his pain.

  He groaned low in his throat as he sat on the bed, drew her into his arms, and took what he so desperately needed.

  Derek slept all that day.

  Slipping out of bed, Sheree washed up in the basin on the dresser, thinking how happy she would be to get back home. She didn’t know how people had survived without showers and hot running water in the old days, but she sorely missed the wonders of the modern world—especially flush toilets!

  After drying off with a fluffy white towel, she pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater, then sat on the edge of the bed, watching him sleep, until Mara insisted she come downstairs and have something to eat.

  “I’m really not hungry,” Sheree said, following the vampire into the kitchen.

  “You have to eat,” Mara said. “Giving Derek your blood drains you, whether you think it does or not. You need to keep your strength up, too.”

  “Is there anything you don’t know?”

  Mara smiled faintly. “Derek is my son. Our connection runs deeper than merely mother and child. Even when we’re apart, I know when he’s troubled, when he’s hurting. Last night, you insisted he needed nourishment. Take your own advice.”

  Knowing it was useless to argue, Sheree made herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a cup of tea.

  Mara sat across the table from her while she ate. “I wish I could tell you not to worry, but we’re all afraid. If I lose him . . . I don’t think I’d want to go on.”

  Sheree stared at the other woman, startled by her words. Mara was strong, the oldest, most powerful vampire ever known. It was somehow hard to imagine the world without her in it.

  “What kind of talk is that?” Striding into the kitchen, Logan stood beside his wife, glaring down at her. “The two of you are sitting here acting like he’s already dead.”

  “You don’t understand,” Mara retorted. “You’ll never understand!”

  “Don’t give me that crap. My blood might not run in his veins, but he’s my son as much as yours. Now, both of you, stop with all the doom and gloom.”

  Mara pushed away from the table, then threw herself into Logan’s arms.

  Cupping her face in his hands, he gazed into her eyes. “I don’t ever want to hear you talking like that again, because if you destroy yourself, you’ll be destroying me, too, and I’m not ready to go.”

  Sheree glanced away as they kissed. She couldn’t help envying the two of them. They were deeply in love. They would never grow old or sick or helpless. Mara would always be as beautiful and powerful as she was now, Logan as handsome and strong.

  As quietly as she could, she left the kitchen and returned to Derek’s bedroom. Almost, it would be worth becoming a vampire if it meant spending centuries with him instead of a few short years.

  Resuming her place on the foot of the bed, she tried to imagine what it would be like to be forever young and in love.

  Sheree was still there when Derek woke that night. Frowning, he sat up, his gaze darting around the room. “What are you sitting here for?”

  She shrugged, her gaze sliding away from his.

  “Is everything all right?”

  “You tell me.” The moon would be full tomorrow night. “How are you feeling?”

  “Restless.” He looked at her throat, then jerked his gaze away. “Hungry.”

  She turned her head to the side. “Drink, then.”

  “Not now.” Muscles tense, he pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and stalked out of the room.

  Sheree followed a moment later. She found him downstairs, along with Mara, Logan, and Pearl.

  The brown case lay open on the table. She tried not to stare at the bottle of red liquid, or the pistol beside it.

  Sheree didn’t know which unnerved her more, the sight of the vial, or the weapon. The thought of pointing the gun at Derek sent a chill down her spine. The thought of pulling the trigger, even to save her own life, made her sick to her stomach. She would rather die herself than take the life of the man she loved.

  “I’m here,” Derek said flatly. “Let’s get it over with.”

  “You need to feed before you take the serum,” Pearl said. “And with that in mind, we brought you a gift.”

  Derek’s head jerked up, nostrils flaring, when Edna entered the room, pushing a young girl in front of her. The girl’s expression was blank; she couldn’t have been more than sixteen or seventeen.

  “No!” Derek backed away, his expression stricken. “Get her out of here.”

  “You must feed,” Pearl said.

  “I’ve been hunting on my own since I was fourteen,” he snarled. “I don’t need you to do it for me.”

  “Derek . . .”

  “I said no!” His anger filled the room in a swirl of crackling black s
parks. Before anyone could stop him, he shoved the vial into his pants pocket, grabbed the gun and Sheree, and transported the two of them into the hills above the castle.

  Setting Sheree on her feet, he shoved the gun into her hand.

  “No! I don’t want it!”

  “You might need it.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know how to use a gun.”

  “It’s easy. Just point the damn thing and pull the trigger. I’m a big target.”

  Sheree glared at him, then threw the pistol down the hill. “You can’t always have everything your way.”

  He snorted. “You think I can’t find it?”

  “I’ll just throw it away again.”

  With a shake of his head, he turned away from her.

  Sheree glanced around. There was nothing to be seen for miles but acres of forest. And the moon slowly climbing higher in the sky.

  “Derek, what are we doing here?”

  “I had to get out of there. All of them watching me, waiting for me to . . . to . . . hell, I don’t know what.”

  She nodded, every instinct she possessed urging her to flee even as the rational part of her mind told her that was the worst thing she could do. He was a predator. She was prey. If she ran, he would give chase.

  He paced back and forth, restless as a caged animal. Tension radiated from him like heat from a blast furnace. When he glanced her way, his eyes were tinged with red.

  She cringed when he grabbed her hand. “Come on.” His voice was rough, like sandpaper dragged over stone.

  “Where are we going?”

  “You wanted to see me feed, didn’t you?”

  Before she could reply, they were on a dark street in a city she didn’t recognize. Keeping a tight hold on her hand, he tugged her along behind him, lifting his head now and then to sniff the air.

  A short time later, he scented his prey. She knew it by the feral gleam in his eyes when they began to follow a middle-aged woman. Sheree wanted to cry out, to warn the woman she was in danger, but found she couldn’t.

  Helpless, Sheree trailed behind Derek as he followed the woman out of the town square and down a deserted street. When he called to her, she stopped walking.

  “You will stay here,” he told Sheree.

  Nodding, she whispered, “Pease don’t kill her.”

  He didn’t answer, only growled softly before going to the woman.

  Sheree couldn’t be sure, but she thought he spoke to her, and then he folded her into his embrace, his head lowering to her neck, his hair falling forward so Sheree couldn’t see what he was doing. But she didn’t need to see to know. Almost as if it were happening to her, she knew what Derek was feeling as he drank from the woman. It was more than nourishment, though she had no words to describe it, only a sense of fulfillment, as if she had been empty before.

  It was over in minutes. In her mind, she heard him tell the woman to forget what had happened, to go home and rest.

  Smiling, the woman went on her way.

  Sheree’s heart skipped a beat when Derek strode toward her, his eyes dark. His arm slid around her waist, holding her tight as he transported them back to the hills above the castle.

  His eyes glittered with a fierce light. “Now you.”

  She turned her head to the side, heart pounding wildly, hands clenched at her sides.

  “Don’t be afraid, wife. I won’t hurt you.”

  “I . . . I’m not afraid.”

  His laughter mocked the fear she couldn’t hide. “Aren’t you?”

  “Just take what you need.”

  “Ah, Sheree.” His laughter stilled as he drew her gently into his embrace and inhaled her scent. “You are all that stands between me and madness.” He cupped her face in his hands, lowered his head, and kissed her, a sweetly lingering kiss that chased all the doubts and fears from her mind. Vampire or werewolf, she knew he would never hurt her.

  Sheree slid her arms around his neck as he deepened the kiss, sighed as the rest of the world fell away and there was only the two of them, locked in each other’s arms at the top of the world. She leaned into him, wanting to be closer, closer, to taste him and touch him, to rake her nails down his back, to mark him as hers.

  But there was no time. The moon would be full tomorrow night. He still needed to drink her blood and then the serum.

  But he seemed to have forgotten that as he carefully lowered her onto the ground. Aware that this might be their last night together, he made love to her slowly, arousing her again and again, only to pull back, drawing out the pleasure until, at last, he sank into her, his body becoming one with hers, flesh to flesh.

  “Heart to heart,” she murmured as he moved deep within her.

  “And soul to soul.” He whispered the words in her ear as, with one last thrust, he carried her to the stars and back.

  Much later, when they were dressed again, he pulled the vial from his pocket. Holding it up, he turned it this way and that. It glowed with an eerie luminescence in the moon’s light.

  “Like the eyes of a monster,” he remarked bleakly.

  “Like the eyes of the man I love,” she corrected, brushing a kiss across his cheek.

  His gaze moved to her throat.

  “Now?” she asked.

  He blew out a breath, then drew her slowly into his arms. As always, only a few sips of her precious blood soothed and satisfied him as nothing else. He sealed the wounds, then, refusing to meet her gaze, he turned his back toward her.

  “Derek . . .” She started to touch him, then withdrew her hand. “If things were the other way around and I needed your blood, you’d give it to me, wouldn’t you? Without question?”

  He nodded curtly.

  “How is this any different?”

  He pivoted to face her. “It just is, dammit!”

  “There’s nothing wrong with needing something from the one you love.”

  He snorted softly.

  “What’s really bothering you?” She frowned, then snapped her fingers. “It’s your stupid masculine pride, isn’t it? Needing my blood makes you feel weak.” She shook her head. “Why is needing my blood any worse than needing anyone else’s to survive?”

  “Because I’m not in love with them. When I’m hunting, they’re prey, nothing more. I don’t see you that way. And you’d better hope I never do.”

  “I love you, too.” She kissed his cheek, then took the vial from his hand and removed the cap. “What do you think is in here?”

  “Wolf ’s bane. Your blood. Mara’s blood. A handful of herbs, a dash of hemlock.”

  “Hemlock!” Sheree exclaimed. “That’s poison, isn’t it?”

  “Maybe it’ll kill the werewolf.”

  She glowered at him. “And you with it.”

  “I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

  “Are you sure this is a good idea?” She stared at the vial. In the dark, the contents looked thick and black.

  “Have you got a better one?”

  She worried her lower lip with her teeth, then shook her head. “No, but I don’t trust Edna and Pearl to have your best interests at heart. No one knows what it will do to you.” She took his hand in hers. “I’d rather have a husband who was a vampire and a werewolf than no husband at all.”

  “It’s a chance we’ll have to take, love. I can feel the moon calling to me. If this shit doesn’t work, tomorrow night I’ll have to answer.”

  “I’m scared, Derek. Please don’t drink it. I have a bad feeling about this.”

  He lifted one brow. “Woman’s intuition?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know.” She shook her head again. “I just know something’s not right.”

  “I almost killed a man last month,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to be that out of control ever again.”

  “I don’t know much about vampires, but it seems to me that the more often you drink from me, the stronger our bond becomes. Maybe, between the two of us, we can control your urge to kill.”

>   “And maybe we can’t.”

  “Then let’s wait and see what happens. If you can’t control it, we can always try the serum next month.”

  Derek stared at the bottle in her hand. Truth be told, he wasn’t crazy about drinking some untested concoction either, but he was desperate enough to try anything that might work. “What if I go on a killing spree tomorrow night? Do you want that on your conscience?”

  She squeezed his hand. “You won’t be able to kill anyone if we lock you up. This time I’ll make sure your mother stays with me so you can’t compel me.”

  “All right, love,” he agreed. “We’ll try it your way. I just hope to hell we’re doing the right thing.”

  With a sigh of relief, Sheree emptied the bottle’s contents onto the ground. Deep inside, she knew it was the right thing to do.

  And yet, what if she was wrong?

  What if she had talked Derek into something they would both live to regret?

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  The morning of the twenty-fifth dawned cold and overcast, with the promise of rain before nightfall. Sheree woke early after a restless night. She’d had nightmares in the past—more so since meeting Derek. But the ones she’d had last night had been horrible in the extreme.

  Thankfully, she remembered only bits and pieces, but what she remembered was enough to make her break out in a cold sweat. Derek had turned into the very monster he feared—a soulless beast with no conscience, and no memory of who he had been. He had chased her through an endless forest until, at last, she had found what she thought was a safe hiding place behind a waterfall, only to discover Mara waiting for her, death shining in her cold green eyes.

  The worst nightmare had been the last, when Derek—his body twisted into some grotesque creature that was half vampire and half werewolf—tied her to the bed and then invited Mara, Logan, and the two elderly vampires to come in and drink their fill.

  Sitting up, bracing her back against the headboard, Sheree wrapped her arms around her waist. What if the serum would have worked? Maybe it would have cured Derek of being both vampire and werewolf, giving them a chance for a normal life together. Last night, disposing of the serum had seemed like the right thing to do. Why did it feel so wrong now, when the serum was gone and it would take weeks to make a new batch?