His Dark Embrace

  “I’m going to take a shower and slip into something more comfortable,” Skylynn decided once Kaiden was satisfied that the house was safe. She had been wearing the same clothes since Desmarais whisked them off to England.

  “All right.”

  “Do you want to come up and wash my back?”

  “And your front.”

  Grinning, she started up the stairs, only to pause, one hand on the banister. “What are we going to do about Desmarais? He got in here once without any trouble. What’s to stop him from doing it again?”

  “I’ll be with you at night. During the day, I want you and Sam at my place.”

  “How’s that any safer than here?”

  “My house is better fortified than yours. I’ve warded the windows and the doors against intruders, human and vampire.”

  “Warded? You mean, like magic?”

  “Something like that. Only master vampires are capable of it.”

  Skylynn looked at him wide-eyed for a long moment; then, with a shake of her head, she continued up the stairs, muttering, “You learn something new every day.”

  Thorne watched her until she was out of sight; then, opening his preternatural senses, he honed in on his link to Sam. After assuring himself that the boy was safe, Thorne went up the stairs two at a time to see how Skylynn felt about washing his back after he washed hers.

  Sam was on his way home when he felt a sudden shift in the atmosphere around him, like the change in the air before a storm. Although he was newly turned, he knew immediately that the woman who appeared beside him, seemingly out of nowhere, was ancient. Preternatural power swept over him and he realized instinctively that she could squish him like a bug with no trouble at all.

  “Good evening, Samuel.”

  He swallowed the fear that rose like bile in the back of his throat. “Hey.”

  She laughed softly, displaying even white teeth and lethal fangs. “No need to be afraid.”

  “Who said anything about being afraid?”

  Again, a peal of almost girlish laughter, so at odds with the calculating look in her eyes. “I can smell it on you.”

  “Since you know who I am, how about telling me who you are?”

  “Don’t you remember?” she asked, pouting.

  He shook his head.

  “You could say that I’m your grandmother.”

  Sam stared at her, confused. His grandmother? What the hell was she talking about? And then he laughed as he realized what she meant. This was the vampire who had turned Kaiden.

  “Grandma,” he drawled. “What big teeth you have.”

  Her hand shot out, curling around his throat like a garrote. “The better to eat you with, my dear.”

  Sam stared into her face, into a pair of eyes gone bloodred. Damn, he hadn’t even seen her move. Did she mean to kill him?

  “Kill you? Of course not,” she said, releasing her hold on his throat. “You really don’t remember me, do you?”

  “Should I?” he asked, and then felt his eyes widen with the shock of recognition. “You!” he exclaimed, wondering how he could have forgotten the first time they met. “You were the woman in the bar. You got me drunk.”

  She shrugged. “I was bored, and you were so ... entertaining.”

  “Are you bored now?”

  “No, merely curious. Kaiden has never turned anyone before. Somehow, I thought it would be your sister.”

  “What do you know about Skylynn?”

  “I know everything Kaiden knows, including what he’s doing now,” she said with a smile. “I would advise you to take your time getting home.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Think about it.”

  Sam frowned at Cassandra, but she was gone before he could ask her anything else.

  Sam stared after her and then, realizing what she meant, he chuckled. Had Skylynn been intimately involved with any other man at any other time, he might have hurried home to defend his sister’s honor, but he figured it was too late for that. Besides, Skylynn was a big girl, old enough to know what she was doing. Then, too, she was engaged to Kaiden. In some countries of the world, that was as binding as a marriage contract.

  He ran a hand over his jaw. So, he had an hour or so to kill—the thought made him laugh. In the last few days, the word kill had taken on a whole new meaning.

  Hands shoved into his pants pockets, Sam strolled down the street, whistling softly. He didn’t know if it was luck or chance or some kind of vampire instinct that led him to the Scarlet Cabaret. He felt a rush of supernatural power as soon as he crossed the threshold. Scattered among the Goths and wannabe vamps, he sensed the real thing. At first he thought it was Cassandra, but she was nowhere to be seen. He ducked behind a pillar as a horrible thought occurred to him. What if it was Desmarais? But even as the thought occurred to him, he knew it wasn’t Desmarais. He knew the monk’s stink and he wasn’t likely to confuse it with anyone else’s.

  Swearing softly, he moved toward the bar.

  The bartender was a petite brunette with big brown eyes and a mouth meant for kissing. “Hey, handsome, what’ll you have?”

  “I don’t know. What have you got?”

  She smiled. “Anything you want, honey.”

  Sam glanced at the glasses neatly lined up on a shelf behind the bar. What did vampires order in a nightclub? He grinned inwardly. A bloody Mary?

  “How about the house specialty?” the bartender suggested. “I think you’ll like it.”

  “Sure, bring it on.”

  Sam watched her sashay to the far end of the bar. She returned moments later carrying a crystal flute filled with red liquid.

  “Here you go.”

  Sam lifted the glass. He held it a moment before sniffing the contents. And then he frowned. Was it blood?

  The bartender was watching him carefully.

  Sam blew out a breath, then took a sip. It was indeed blood, mixed with a little red wine. “This is the house specialty?”

  She nodded. “Like it?”

  He hesitated before answering. Was this some kind of trap? How did she know what he was?

  “I’ve worked here a long time,” she said, as if that explained everything.

  “It’s ... different.”

  She smiled at him. “I’m Lisa. My father owns the club.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Lisa. I’m Sam.”

  “I haven’t seen you in here before.”

  “No.” He took another drink. It was smooth going down. “I’m new.”

  “New in town?” she asked, crossing her arms on the top of the bar. “Or just new?”

  “Just new, I guess,” he replied. “Funny, I don’t remember ever seeing this place before.”

  “We like it like that.”

  He drained the glass and handed it back to her. “How about a refill?”

  “Sure, honey. I’ll be right back.”

  Sam leaned his elbow on the bar. He was new to all this supernatural stuff, but he had a gut feeling that Lisa wasn’t entirely human. Not that he cared. She was a pretty little thing. Her skin-tight black jeans, long-sleeved white silk shirt, and black vest outlined every luscious feminine curve.

  He felt a rush of desire as he watched her refill his glass. Whatever she was, he wanted her.

  He grinned as he watched her return, her hips swaying provocatively. Unless he missed his guess, she wanted him, too. The night was suddenly ripe with possibilities.

  “Like what you see?” she asked as she handed him his drink.

  “What’s not to like? Would it be too presumptuous of me to ask what time you get off work?”

  “In about five minutes. Why? What did you have in mind?”

  “Anything you want.”

  “Would you like to walk me home?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She winked at him. “Just let me get my coat.”

  She returned a few minutes later wearing a short black leather jacket. “You ready?”

/>   “Always ready.”

  She laughed softly. “Slow down, tiger. We’ve got all night.”

  Sam held the door open for her, then followed her out. “So, tell me about yourself. What do you do when you’re not mixing drinks?”

  “Lots of things. I paint a little. I work out at the gym. I teach a self-defense class twice a week.”

  “Guess I’d better watch myself.”

  “No need,” she said with a teasing grin. “I’ll be glad to watch you.”

  When her gaze met his, the attraction between them sizzled like heat lightning.

  Lisa slipped her arm through his. “This could prove interesting.”

  “Interesting?” Sam repeated with a laugh. “Honey, this is gonna be way better than that.”

  “So, what about you?” Lisa asked. “What do you like to do?”

  Sam shrugged. “Work on my car, mostly. Flirt with pretty girls.”

  “How long have you been a vampire?”

  “I’m brand-new.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “Surprisingly, I do.”

  “You asked for it, then?” she said, frowning. “I could never understand why anyone would want to be a vampire.”

  “It wasn’t a choice I made. My sister made it for me.”

  “Oh?”

  “Well, I was dying and”—he shrugged again—“it beat the alternative.”

  “Yes, I guess so.” She paused in front of a large, two-story house. “This is where I live.”

  “Nice place.” A light burned in one of the downstairs windows. A few palm trees grew alongside the house; rose bushes lined the walkway to the front door.

  “Thanks for walking me home.”

  “You’re welcome.” He rocked back on his heels, wondering if he dared kiss her good night and then, remembering how Granda had always said nothing ventured, nothing gained, Sam drew her close and covered her mouth with his.

  And knew that one kiss wouldn’t be enough.

  Skylynn and Kaiden were snuggling on the sofa when Sam let himself into the house.

  “So,” Kaiden asked. “How’d it go?”

  “Fine. Why?”

  “We expected you home before now. It’s almost dawn. Your sister’s been worried about you.”

  “Come on, Sky,” Sam said, dropping into a chair. “It’s time you stopped playing mother hen. I’m the big brother, remember? Not to mention that I’m the scariest thing on the streets.”

  Thorne snorted.

  Skylynn shook her head.

  “Geez, you guys treat me like I’m ten years old.”

  “I know you feel like you’re indestructible,” Thorne said. “But you’re not. You might want to remember that.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry if I worried you, Sky. I won’t do it again.”

  “I’m sorry for being such a worrywart.”

  “You were at the Scarlet Cabaret tonight,” Thorne remarked.

  “Yeah, how’d you know?”

  “I can smell Lisa on you.”

  Sam’s face lit up. “Do you know her? Man, she’s something else.”

  “She is, indeed,” Thorne agreed.

  “Who’s Lisa?” Skylynn asked.

  “She tends bar at the club,” Thorne said. “Her father owns it. She works there a few nights a week. So, what did you think of her?”

  “She’s gorgeous,” Sam replied. “I’ve got a date with her tomorrow night.”

  “If I were you, I’d take it slow,” Thorne said.

  “I’m not planning to snack on her, if that’s what you’re thinking, although I have to admit, the thought of tasting her crossed my mind more than once.”

  Thorne shook his head. “You won’t like it if you do.”

  “What’s not to like?” Sam asked, frowning. “She’s young, single, beautiful, and she smells good.”

  “There’s just one other little thing you might want to remember,” Thorne remarked.

  “Yeah? What’s that?”

  “She’s a werewolf.”

  Chapter 39

  Shortly after sundown the next night, Thorne drove Sam and Skylynn out to the cemetery. He waited in the car for several minutes, giving the brother and sister time to be alone with their grief.

  In spite of being Undead, graveyards weren’t one of Thorne’s favorite places. They were grim reminders of how brief mortal life was, how short his time with Skylynn would be. In a few years, she would begin to age. Her youth would fade, her energy and exuberance would diminish, weakened by the passage of years. Not that he would love her less. He would deem it a privilege to care for her for as long as she lived. His only concern—selfish though it might be—was how, having known her, having loved her, he could go on without her. In four centuries, he had never found another woman he needed so badly, or loved so desperately. With each passing day, the thought of facing a future without her grew more and more intolerable.

  His only hope was that, as time passed and mortality stared her in the face, she would agree to accept the Dark Gift. He was hoping that the fact that her brother was now a vampire would tip the scales in his favor.

  From time to time, when he thought of existing without her, a little voice in the back of his mind whispered that, as a last resort, he could turn her against her will and hope that, in a century or two, she would find it in her heart to forgive him.

  Even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew he would never force his way of life on Skylynn. If she became a vampire, it would be of her own choosing.

  With a shake of his head, he got out of the car and joined Sky and her brother at the grave site. Skylynn’s cheeks were damp with tears. Sam stood beside her, his arm around her shoulders, doing his best not to cry.

  “He was a good man,” Thorne said quietly. “A good friend to me. One of the few mortals who knew what I was and didn’t try to drive a stake in my heart.”

  “I still miss him,” Sky said, sniffling. “He was always there when I needed him, always there to comfort me when I woke up crying in the middle of the night, or when I had a fight with one of my friends.”

  Sam nodded his agreement.

  The boy was afraid to speak, Thorne thought, afraid that putting his feelings into words would unleash the pain within him and leave him crying like a baby.

  Shoving his hands into his pockets, Thorne stared at the headstones. He couldn’t remember the last time he had shed a tear.

  Skylynn dropped to her knees. Leaning forward, she stroked her hand over the grass that covered her grandfather’s grave. “I hope you’re with the rest of the family now.” She glanced to the left, where her grandmother was buried. “You can take care of each other again.”

  After clearing his throat, Sam said, “I need to go, Sky.”

  She glanced up at him. “So soon?”

  Sam shifted from one foot to the other. “You can stay if you want. I need to go.”

  “I’ll stay with her,” Thorne said. “You be careful. Desmarais is still out there somewhere.”

  “Yeah, like I’d forget that.”

  “You and Sky will be staying at my place during the day until he’s no longer a threat.”

  Sam looked belligerent for a moment, and then, with a nod, he disappeared from the cemetery.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,” Sky said, rising. “The way you can come and go so quickly.”

  “It’s been my experience that you can get used to almost anything,” Thorne remarked as they picked their way between the headstones on their way back to the car.

  “I suppose,” she replied dubiously. “He seems so different. He seems ... happy to be what he is.”

  “And that’s a bad thing?” Thorne asked, opening the passenger door.

  “No, it’s just hard for me to understand. I mean, I was afraid he’d hate me for it. Now, it’s almost like he wishes he’d done it sooner.”

  Thorne closed her door and went around to the driver’s side. Sliding behind the wheel, he turne
d to face her, his arm draped over the back of her seat. “Being a vampire is what you make of it. You can brood over what you’ve lost, or you can appreciate what you’ve gained. It’s all a matter of attitude. Sam decided to look on the bright side.”

  “Is that what you did?”

  “Eventually. I guess you could say Sam’s become a well-adjusted vampire in a remarkably short time.”

  “Well-adjusted,” Sky muttered. “Right.”

  “Is it Sam’s easy acceptance of what he is that’s bothering you?” Thorne asked quietly. “Or are you having second thoughts about you and me?”

  “Could you blame me if I was?”

  “Not at all. I’d be surprised if you weren’t.”

  “Were you kidding when you told Sam that that girl, Lisa, is a werewolf?”

  “No. She turns fanged and furry when the moon is full.”

  Feeling chilled, Sky wrapped her arms around her middle. “Can we go home now?” She was in love with a vampire. Sam was enamored of a werewolf. Absorbing that knowledge while parked in a cemetery was suddenly more than she could handle.

  With a nod, Thorne started the car and drove toward the exit. He couldn’t blame Sky for being spooked. It was never easy for mortals to find out that the monsters were real.

  “So, werewolves exist,” Sky mused. “Should I be on the lookout for flying monkeys, and giant ants and aliens from outer space?”

  Thorne laughed, recalling that she had asked about the possibility of other paranormal creatures when he had told her about saving Desmarais from the succubus.

  “I’m pretty sure you’re safe from flying monkeys and giant ants,” he drawled. “The jury’s still out on little green men from outer space.”

  “What did you mean when you told Sam he wouldn’t like the taste of her blood?”

  “Werewolf blood burns like acid when we swallow it.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “I don’t know, but it does.”

  “Are you speaking from experience?”