His Dark Embrace

  Moments later, he had arranged a “no questions asked” flight for himself.

  It was an hour before dawn when Thorne’s plane landed on a private airstrip outside of London. After paying the pilot an exorbitant fee to stay put until he returned, Thorne willed himself to the Abbey, then located a place in the nearby forest where he could safely go to ground until nightfall.

  Rising at sunset, he approached the Abbey’s ornately carved double doors. He stared at the entrance for several minutes. His chances of being invited inside were slim to none. The threshold of an ordinary church wouldn’t have presented a problem since such places of worship were open to the public. But St. Germaine’s Abbey was home to about thirty monks, as well as ten or fifteen slayers-turned-clerics who had taken a vow of silence. They never left the Abbey and rarely had any contact with the outside world, although both slayers and monks were free to leave if they wished.

  The monks grew all their own food, made their own wine, and raised cattle and goats for milk and cheese. Strangers were not welcome inside the Abbey. Desmarais had taken refuge with the monks shortly after the death of his wife. If only he had stayed there.

  Thorne raked his hands through his hair. All that mattered now was getting Skylynn and her brother out of the Abbey, alive.

  Sam paced his narrow prison, a string of curses peppering the fetid air around him. Where the hell was he? It was bad enough that he didn’t remember anything about his life before he woke up in the VA hospital, but now he couldn’t remember how he had gotten here, either.

  He did remember one thing, though. A scary-looking old guy with eyes that burned as red as flame. Red eyes! Nobody human had eyes like that.

  Sam shook his head. Maybe he didn’t have amnesia. Maybe he was just going insane. That made a lot more sense.

  He paused, his brow furrowed. Had he seen that guy before? Something about that long gray cloak ... Sam massaged his temples. If he could remember one thing, just one lousy little thing, maybe it would all come back to him.

  Filled with worry and frustration, he resumed his restless pacing, concern for Skylynn overshadowing fear for his own life. Was she locked up in a cell like this one? He had called her name from time to time, but she didn’t answer. Maybe the cell was soundproof. Maybe she wasn’t here. His hands curled into tight fists. Maybe she was dead.

  What if he wasn’t in a cell at all? Maybe he was buried alive in some kind of box. Sweat beaded across his brow. He remembered being locked up, beaten, starved. Shit! Was he back in Iraq? Back in the hands of terrorists?

  What if he had never been rescued? Maybe he was still in that sweat box.

  He had to get out! Now! Panic spiked his heart rate. Sweat dripped down his face and trickled down his back.

  “Help! Somebody, anybody! Let me out!” Pounding on the wall, he screamed, “Let me out of here!”

  He had to escape before they came back for him.

  “Please,” he sobbed. “Please let me out.”

  As if in answer to his plea, the door creaked open. In the pale light spilling into the cell from a light in the passageway, Sam watched the man in the long gray cloak stroll into the cell.

  Sam scrambled backward. “No! Get away from me, you freak. Leave me alone!”

  The man walked toward him, eyes red and glowing. “Leave you alone?” His laughter was like dead leaves rustling in a graveyard. “I think not. You have what I need.”

  Sam shook his head. “I don’t have anything!” His gaze darted toward the open door and the freedom that lay beyond. All he had to do was get past the old man. A piece of cake, right?

  The thought had barely crossed Sam’s mind when the door shut, seemingly of its own accord, and he found himself shoved against the cell’s back wall, held in place by one age-spotted hand.

  Sam stared at his captor. Who was this guy? He hadn’t even seen him move.

  “Time for dinner,” the man said. His lips peeled back in a savage grin, revealing elongated canines.

  Sam went cold all over as he stared at the hellishly red eyes, the sharp fangs.

  It couldn’t be. There was no such thing. And yet the proof was staring him in the face.

  Vampire.

  Sam was still trying to grasp the reality of what he was seeing when the man grabbed a handful of his hair, jerked his head to the side, and buried his fangs in Sam’s throat.

  Chapter 35

  Thorne prowled the outskirts of St. Germaine’s Abbey, every step adding to his frustration. How the hell was he going to get inside?

  When the answer came to him, it was so simple, he cursed himself for not thinking of it immediately. All he had to do was ring the damn bell. His only excuse for not thinking of it sooner was that anger had clouded his reason. Strangers might not be welcome in the Abbey, but St. Germaine’s was a religious order, after all, sworn to render aid and comfort to those in need.

  Muttering under his breath, Thorne grabbed the bell pull and gave it a jerk. The sonorous peal echoed off the high stone walls.

  Several minutes passed before a tall, thin cleric opened the heavy door. He stood in the entryway, blinking up at Thorne, his brows raised in a silent query.

  Thorne fixed his gaze on the monk’s guileless brown eyes. It took little effort for Thorne to impose his will on the monk’s.

  “Please,” the cleric said, his voice rusty from disuse. “Come in.”

  Thorne felt a ripple in the air as he stepped over the threshold. After closing the door behind him, he captured the monk’s gaze again. “You did not see me,” he said. “You will return to your duties. If anyone asks who was at the door, you will say it was a traveler asking directions. Do you understand?”

  The cleric nodded.

  Satisfied, Thorne opened his senses. He located Skylynn’s heartbeat almost instantly. A moment later, he caught the scent of freshly spilled blood. And with it, the erratic beat of a heart that was about to beat its last.

  Moving faster than the eye could see, Thorne followed the scent of blood. It led him down a dark, musty-smelling corridor to a locked iron door. Dissolving into mist, he slipped under the crack along the bottom. A handy talent, he mused as he resumed his own form on the other side of the portal.

  His fangs extended as the scent of blood grew stronger, mingling with Girard Desmarais’ unmistakable stink.

  Swearing softly, Thorne hastened down a narrow, winding staircase to what had been a dungeon in days past, but was now used as a wine cellar. Torches set at intervals along the walls lit the passageway.

  He hurried past several wine racks and iron-barred cells until he came to the last two. These cells were enclosed, with only narrow slits in the doors so the former guards could look inside.

  Thorne inhaled deeply. Skylynn was in the cell on the right. The scent of freshly spilled blood came from the one on the left. Thorne opened the view port and peered inside, a harsh curse rising in his throat when he spied Desmarais kneeling on the floor, his head bent over Sam’s neck.

  Desmarais sprang to his feet when Thorne threw open the cell door. “You!” he hissed. Licking Sam’s blood from his lips, Desmarais took a step backward, his hands curling into tight fists.

  Thorne moved toward the other vampire with murder in his heart. Desmarais had kidnapped Skylynn, and for that, his life would be forfeit.

  “He’s dying,” Desmarais said, gesturing at Sam. “What’s more important? Killing me? Or saving the girl’s brother? You can’t do both.”

  And so saying, Desmarais vanished from sight in a swirl of black mist.

  Thorne uttered a pithy curse. He had expected Desmarais to stand and fight. The hunter had made no secret of the fact that he wanted Thorne dead. And Skylynn, too.

  Skylynn. Dammit. A thought took him into Skylynn’s cell. And not a moment too soon. Desmarais had Skylynn backed into a corner.

  “You’ll never get your hands on her again,” Thorne said, his voice little more than an angry growl.

  With a howl of frustrati
on, Desmarais again vanished from sight.

  “Sky!” Thorne swept her into his arms, his gaze moving over her face, his hands running lightly over her arms and back. “Did he hurt you?”

  “No.” She stared up at Kaiden, wishing she could see his face. But the inside of the cell was as black as pitch. “Where’s Sam? Is he all right?”

  “I need to get you out of here.” Thorne said.

  “Where’s Sam?” she asked again, her voice rising. “Where is he?” She pounded on his chest. “Tell me where he is!”

  “I’m sorry, Sky. I got here too late. He’s dying.”

  “No! I don’t believe you! Where is he?”

  “In the next cell.”

  Wriggling out of his hold, she moved blindly toward the door, her hand tugging on the handle. “It’s locked!”

  “Move aside,” Thorne said. One swift kick, and the door flew off its hinges.

  Skylynn hurried to the next cell, her heart pounding as she reached for the handle. To her relief, the door was unlocked.

  “Sam!” Dropping to her knees beside her brother, she cradled his head in her lap. “Sam? Sam! Please, Sam, don’t leave me.”

  When there was no response, she looked up at Thorne. “Do something!”

  He gazed down at her. Her brother was more dead than alive. “What do you want me to do?”

  For a moment, Skylynn stared up at him, mute. She couldn’t say the words. She swallowed hard, blinking back her tears. “Please,” she whispered. “He’s all the family I have left.”

  “Are you sure? There’s no going back, no changing your mind once it’s done.”

  With tears streaming down her face, she nodded. She had lost so much. She couldn’t lose Sam, too.

  Thorne glanced at Sam, then back at Skylynn. “You might not want to watch.”

  Rising, Sky backed toward the far corner of the cell. With her arms wrapped tightly around her waist, she looked at Kaiden. She had asked for this. She would see it through.

  With a nod, Thorne knelt beside Sam and gathered him into his arms. Feeling Skylynn’s gaze on his back, Thorne hesitated a moment, and then he lowered his head to her brother’s throat and drank what little blood he had left. Thorne heard Sky gasp when Sam went limp in his arms.

  Hoping she wouldn’t regret her decision and that Sam wouldn’t hate her for making it, doubting the wisdom of what he was about to do, Thorne bit into his own wrist, then held the bleeding wound to Sam’s lips.

  “Drink, Sam,” he murmured. “Drink, and live.”

  Girard Desmarais cursed his bad luck as he fled the Abbey. How the hell had Thorne gained entrance to St. Germaine’s? He puzzled over that for several minutes, then muttered, “Of course. Mind control.”

  Berating himself for not having foreseen such an eventuality, he made his way into the city and the small apartment he kept there.

  So, he thought as he removed his cloak and tossed it over a chair, he had blown his chance this time. But there would be others. Cassandra or no Cassandra, he wouldn’t rest until Thorne or the girl or both were dead.

  Skylynn tugged on Kaiden’s arm. “Is he going to be all right?”

  “We won’t know until he wakes tomorrow night. Right now, we need to get out of here.” He couldn’t take a chance on Desmarais alerting the rest of the brotherhood, and while the odds of that seemed slim, Thorne thought it best not to take chances. He wasn’t afraid of many things, but he didn’t want to confront a bunch of former slayers wielding torches and wooden stakes if he could help it.

  After draping Sam over one shoulder, Thorne reached for Skylynn’s hand. “Do you trust me?”

  “You know I do.”

  “Okay, hold on tight. Don’t be afraid.”

  With an effort of will, he transported the three of them out of the Abbey’s basement and deep into the heart of the forest beyond.

  Skylynn stared up at him, her eyes wide. “What just happened? How did you do that?”

  “Vampire, Sky, remember?”

  “Can all vampires do that?”

  “As far as I know.”

  “Wow.”

  “There’s a plane waiting to take us home,” he said, and then frowned when he realized how late it was. If they left now, it would be daylight before they reached Vista Verde, and while he might survive a short time in the sun’s light, Sam, as a fledgling, would go up in flames.

  He considered trying to transport the three of them to California, but quickly dismissed the idea. He had never tried to transport anyone else that far, wasn’t sure if he could transport the three of them that far, or what effect it would have on Skylynn.

  He explained his reasoning to Sky, then said, “I think we’d better spend what’s left of the night in a hotel.”

  She nodded. “All right.”

  Thorne squeezed her hand. “You ready? Okay, here we go.”

  A short time later, they were registered in one of London’s best hotels. Sky wasn’t sure how Thorne had managed it. Another bit of vampire magic, she supposed, since he had scored a pair of adjoining rooms without so much as a reservation. And such lovely rooms. The furniture looked antique, the drapes were brocade, the paintings on the papered walls depicted scenes of the English countryside.

  Wrapped in a warm bathrobe, courtesy of the hotel, Sky stood at one of the windows, staring out at the rain, while Thorne showered.

  So much had happened so fast. She glanced over her shoulder to where Sam lay, apparently sleeping, on one of the king-size beds. When he awoke tomorrow night, he would be a vampire. Had she made a mistake in asking Thorne to turn her brother? Would Sam thank her for saving his life, or hate her for what she had done? Would becoming a vampire restore his memories, or erase them forever?

  Sky turned back to the window. She had always wanted to visit London, but not like this. Too nervous to stay still, she paced the floor. Where was Desmarais? A hotel wasn’t like a house. This threshold wouldn’t repel him, but surely he wouldn’t come here. Would he?

  Now that Sam was a vampire, the odds were two-to-one against Desmarais. Would that fact be enough to make the crazy slayer-turned-monk-turned vampire leave them alone? Somehow, she doubted it.

  Her heart skipped a beat when the water in the bathroom stopped running. A moment later, Kaiden entered the room, naked save for the fluffy white towel wrapped around his lean hips.

  Stars above, the man was the epitome of male perfection from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet. And he was all hers.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, coming to stand beside her.

  “I guess so. I’m just so worried, you know, about Sam, about what he’ll think when he wakes up.” Feeling suddenly chilled, she ran her hands up and down her arms. “Kaiden, did I do the right thing?”

  “I guess we won’t know that until tomorrow night.”

  Sky nodded. What if Sam hated her when he woke up and realized what he had become? What if he couldn’t control his hunger and he went on a killing spree? Any lives he took would be on her head. Oh, Lord, what had she done?

  Needing something to distract her morbid thoughts from what might happen when Sam awoke, she traced the faint white scar on Kaiden’s cheek. “How did you get that?”

  “Sword fight.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Happened when I was a highwayman. I stopped a carriage to rob the passengers. One of them was a duke. I guess he wanted to impress the ladies because he drew his sword and tried to stop me. He lost.”

  “Did you ... kill him?”

  “No, just wounded his pride a little.”

  “What about the scar on your back?”

  “Souvenir of a duel over a lovely lady.”

  “Oh?”

  He laughed softly, amused by the jealous note in her voice. “A four-legged lady. Quite the prettiest little filly I’d ever seen. Unfortunately, her owner didn’t want to part with her.”

  “You fought a duel? Over a horse?” She stared at him incredulously. “I d
on’t believe it.”

  “I was younger then,” he said with a rueful grin. “And a lot more foolish.”

  “I see.”

  In a voice that was low and softly seductive, he said, “I always get what I want.”

  Her heartbeat quickened as his gaze moved over her. “Do you?”

  His voice dropped to a low growl as he wrapped his arms around her. “I got you, didn’t I?”

  “Indeed.” Rising on her tiptoes, she brushed a kiss across his lips. “You did,” she said, and then sagged against him.

  It took him a moment to realize she was crying. “Hey, what’s this?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, everything.”

  “Sky?”

  “I think we should ...” She sniffed. “We should postpone the wedding, at least until Sam comes to grips with ... you know, with his new, ah, lifestyle.”

  “That’s probably a good idea.”

  “You don’t mind?”

  “No.” He ran his hand up and down her back. “It’ll be all right, you’ll see.”

  Hoping to lighten the mood, Thorne chucked her under the chin. “Sam shouldn’t be left alone at night for a while, and once you’re really mine ...” He grinned at her. “Well, I’ll be wanting all your time, at least for a little while.”

  Blinking back her tears, she nodded.

  Thorne regarded her for a moment, then said, “Something else is bothering you. Do you want to tell me what it is?”

  “I love you. You know that.”

  “But?”

  “Well, you’re not going to get any older. What happens when I’m not young anymore?” She fought down the fear rising inside her, the fear that he would leave her. “Will you go away?”

  “No. The marriage vows say until death do you part, and I’ll stay with you, and take care of you, until then.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

  “You didn’t. I love you, Sky Blue. Young or old, in sickness or in health, you’ll always be as beautiful to me as you are now.”