Nights master, p.9
Nights Master, page 9
part #3 of Children of The Night Series
Pearl nodded. “I don’t know which is worse, the Werewolves or the Vampires.”
“You’ve seen them?” I asked, surprised that they talked about it so openly.
“The Vampires tend to be very secretive, you know,” Edna remarked. “They never tell you where they take their rest. And they never meet in the same place twice. The Werewolves meet in an abandoned building out at the end of Foster Road.”
“How do you know that?” I asked, my curiosity about Edna and Pearl growing by the minute. For that matter, I wondered how they recognized the Werewolves and the Vampires. Unless the Werewolves were in their furry forms, or the Vampires were displaying their fangs, the Supernatural folk looked pretty much like everyone else most of the time. Of course, maybe Edna and Pearl were able to detect them the same way I did. For a moment, I was tempted to ask, but then I thought better of it. My gift, such as it was, might best be kept under wraps, at least until I knew Edna and Pearl better.
The two women exchanged glances, then looked at me with conspiratorial smiles.
“We have our ways, dear,” Pearl said. “You be careful now, hear?”
“And remember,” Edna added. “Handsome is as handsome does.”
I looked from one woman to the other. “Excuse me?”
“Raphael Cordova is a mighty handsome man, dear,” Pearl said.
“Nice butt,” Edna remarked candidly.
I nodded in agreement, though I was somewhat shocked to learn that a woman of Edna’s age would notice such a thing, and more surprised that they knew I was seeing Rafe.
“You do know he’s a Vampire, don’t you, dear?” Pearl asked.
“Yes.”
“His grandmother is a witch,” Edna remarked. “Did you know that?”
“No, he never mentioned that.”
“Well, just be careful,” Edna admonished. “I know he seems like a nice young man…”
I bit back a grin. Raphael was anything but young.
“But as my husband always said, a girl can’t be too careful,” Pearl added.
“Roger was absolutely right,” Edna agreed. “But then, he always was.”
“You know, dear,” Pearl said, “it probably isn’t wise for you to go to Raphael’s house alone.”
I think my mouth fell open. How could they possibly know I had been out to Raphael’s house? Or that the Werewolves met in an abandoned building on Foster Road? Or that Raphael’s grandmother was a witch? A witch! Good grief! Next they’d be telling me that Susie McGee was a fairy princess and the police chief was a troll!
After I had taken their credit cards, bagged their books, and bid Edna and Pearl good-bye, I poured myself a cup of coffee and replayed the entire conversation in my mind.
A short time later, another woman entered the store. She was young and pretty, with dark blond hair and violet eyes. I thought at first that she was a Werewolf, and it occurred to me once again that there were an awful lot of Werewolves and Vampires in town, although, after what had happened the last two nights, there were at least two less than there had been. But then I realized she wasn’t a Werewolf. She was like Cagin, a shape-shifter of some kind.
She looked at me sharply when she handed me her credit card, and I had the distinct impression that she knew that I knew what she was. Taking her receipt and the book, she left the store without ever saying a word.
The rest of the day passed quietly. I ate lunch at my computer and washed the ham and cheese sandwich down with a cup of coffee. I made another sale later in the afternoon, and I closed up early.
Driving home, I felt suddenly melancholy. I hadn’t heard a word from Raphael since last night. Of course, he had probably been at rest all day. I wondered if he would come by my house later, or ever again.
Handsome is as handsome does.
Pearl’s words echoed in the back of my mind. Raphael Cordova was handsome as sin, and just as dangerous. Last night, he had killed a man in cold blood. Oh, sure, the Were had asked Raphael to end his life, but it was still murder.
Handsome is as handsome does.
Okay, I admit it, it troubled me more than I wanted to admit that Raphael had killed the Werewolf. How many other Were-creatures and humans had he killed since becoming a full-fledged, practicing Vampire?
It was a question that haunted me while I ate dinner. Like an itch I couldn’t scratch, it lingered in the back of my mind while I cleaned up the kitchen, and later, while I tried to watch a late movie.
I was about to get ready for bed when the doorbell rang.
I knew before I answered the door that it was my Vampire. Raphael.
Chapter Twelve
Handsome. The word whispered through my mind as I looked at him. Dressed in a dark blue shirt open at the throat and a pair of black jeans, he looked good enough to eat.
“Any chance I could come in?” he asked.
A girl can’t be too careful. I blinked at him, and then, ignoring Pearl’s earlier warning, I invited him inside.
Nice butt. I grinned as I recalled Edna’s assessment of Raphael’s behind. Following him into the living room, I had to agree with her.
“Please,” I said, “sit down.”
I sank into the chair across from the sofa, one leg folded beneath me, suddenly at a loss for words. I had a lot of questions I wanted to ask him, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answers.
“You’re still upset about last night,” he said, and it wasn’t a question.
I nodded. There was no point in lying. “You killed him,” I said with a snap of my fingers. “Just like that.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. “Yes.”
I took a deep breath, then blurted, “How many people have you killed?”
His gaze burned into mine, and then he rose effortlessly to his feet. “Good-bye, Kathy.”
I stared at him, knowing if he left now, I would never see him again.
He was at the door when I called, “Rafe, don’t go!”
He glanced over his shoulder, his face impassive. “It’s better this way.”
“No.” I blinked against the sharp sting of tears. “Please stay.”
He stared at me for a long moment before resuming his place on the sofa. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”
I nodded, although I wasn’t sure at all. Maybe ignorance really was bliss.
“I’m a Vampire,” he said, both his voice and his expression devoid of emotion.
I was tempted to say, “duh!” but I restrained myself.
“You have to understand that killing comes easy to us,” he went on, “and it gets easier with every passing year. After a while, some of us forget that we were once human. Those who do look on mortals as nothing more than prey, theirs for the taking.”
“Is that how you feel?”
“No, but many do. Even so, there have been times when I’ve taken a life.”
I waited, hoping he would say he had killed them all in self-defense.
“When I was a new Vampire, I fell in love with a young woman. After a while, she said she wanted to be what I was, that she wanted us to be together forever.” He paused, his gaze looking beyond me into the distant past. “I knew how Vampires were made, and even though I had never brought anyone across or seen it done, I was sure I could do it. I was wrong. She died in my arms.”
He looked at me again, his dark eyes haunted. “I’ve never tried to bring anyone else across.”
Feeling suddenly chilled from the inside out, I ran my hands up and down my arms, waiting for him to go on.
“I’ve killed men and Werewolves in self-defense,” he said, his voice cold and flat. “I’ve killed men when my need for blood was stronger than my self-control, but I’ve never killed a man in anger.” He smiled faintly. “Or a woman.”
“Where do you sleep?”
His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why?”
I shrugged. “I didn’t mean where, exactly, I was just wondering what you sleep in.”
“My underwear,” he replied, and then frowned. “But that’s not what you’re asking, either, is it?”
“No.”
“These days, only Hollywood Vampires sleep in coffins. The rest of us have discovered king-size beds are more comfortable.”
I hoped my relief didn’t show on my face.
“Anything else you want to know?”
“Someone told me your grandmother is a witch. Is that true?”
The sound of his deep, rich laughter filled the room. “You’ve been talking to Edna and Pearl, haven’t you?”
“Maybe.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know where they get their information, but I think those old broads know everything that happens in this town. Hell, maybe they’re witches, too.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“It’s true. My grandmother Brenna is a spell-casting, card-carrying white witch.” He canted his head to one side. “Looking for someone who can make me disappear?”
“Of course not. Don’t be silly.”
“What are you looking for?” he asked, all hint of amusement gone from his voice and his expression.
It was a good question. I wished I had a good answer. “I’m not looking for anything; I was just curious.” I blew out a sigh. “Vampires and Were-creatures and now witches. I don’t know what to think anymore.”
“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”
I lifted one brow. “Shakespeare?”
“Hamlet, act one, scene five.” He grinned at me. “I had a good tutor.”
“Did he know you were a Vampire?”
“No. My folks didn’t see any reason to divulge that particular bit of information.” He grinned. “Rane and I played some awful tricks on old Mr. Axtell.”
“What kinds of tricks?”
“One night, my folks invited him to stay for dinner. While they were all in the living room talking, Rane and I turned his car upside down. Another time, Rane hypnotized Axtell, and when he woke up, he was in a…”
“In a what?”
Rafe cleared his throat. “A bordello.”
“How’d you manage that?”
“It wasn’t easy.” Rafe shook his head. “We caught hell for that one.”
“I should hope so,” I said, but I couldn’t help grinning.
“He figured out we were behind it. I don’t know how. But a few days later, my old man received a bill for five hundred dollars from the bordello for services rendered. He wasn’t happy about that. Neither were Rane and I. Our father decided if we had enough spare time on our hands to play pranks on our teacher, then we could paint the house, inside and out.”
Rafe laughed and I laughed with him. And then he looked at me, his expression sober once more. “So, where do we go from here?”
“I don’t know. My good sense tells me that I shouldn’t have anything to do with you, but…”
“But?”
I took a deep breath and let it out in a long, slow sigh. “I can’t stand the thought of never seeing you again.”
“It could be dangerous for you.”
“I know.”
“It doesn’t scare you?”
“Of course it does.”
“You’ve nothing to fear from me, you know that, don’t you?”
“It’s not you I’m afraid of. It’s what’s happening in Oak Hollow. It’s knowing, really knowing, that Vampires and Were-creatures and…and witches…actually exist. I mean, I knew it before I moved here, but I had never met any Supernatural folk. I told myself they didn’t really exist. But now…”
“Now you can’t pretend anymore.”
I nodded. “I’m afraid for you, afraid of how all this trouble between the Vampires and Werewolves will end.”
“Come here.”
Rising from my chair, I went into his arms.
“You don’t have to worry about me,” he said, his fingertips stroking my arm. “I can take care of myself. And you, too.”
I hoped he was right, but only time would tell. Resting my head on his shoulder, I closed my eyes. The future would take care of itself. Right now, I was where I most wanted to be.
“This won’t be easy,” Raphael murmured, his breath warm against my neck.
“I know.”
“For your sake, we’d better take it slow.”
I kissed his cheek. “Slow.”
He turned his head, his lips seeking mine, his tongue like a flame as it dueled with my own. For a moment, I lost myself in his touch, thinking how amazing it was that he was here, that I was in his arms.
“Rafe…”
He drew back a little, his gaze seeking mine. “You want me to stop?”
“No, I…” Might as well just say it, I thought, then blurted, “I think I love you.”
“I think I love you, too.”
“This complicates things even more, doesn’t it?” I asked. Lust and love were two different animals. Lust was a selfish beast. It had no responsibilities, implied no lasting commitment, no concern for the other’s happiness or welfare. But love, ah, love required caring and commitment, it meant putting another’s wants and needs before one’s own. Lust was fleeting; true love lasted forever.
“In a way,” Raphael agreed, kissing the tip of my nose. “On the other hand, it’s nice to know where we stand.”
Drawing me into his arms once more, he lowered his head and kissed me again and yet again, each kiss deeper and more intimate than the last. His hands moved lightly over my body, as if he wanted to memorize every curve. Had I been a cat, I would have arched my back and purred with pleasure. As it was, I couldn’t restrain the soft moans that rose in my throat as he caressed me, nor could I resist an exploration of my own.
I loved the feel of his skin beneath my hands, the way his muscles bunched and quivered at my touch. I lay back on the sofa and drew him down on top of me, basking in the feel of his body lying atop mine, the heat of his arousal pressing against my thigh.
I was lost in the taste of him, the touch of him, until I felt his fangs at my throat.
It cooled my desire as quickly as cold water doused a fire. “Raphael?”
Muttering an oath, he rolled off me and gained his feet.
I sat up, staring at his back, watching as he raked a hand through his hair, then curled his hands into tight fists at his sides. He was breathing heavily. A leftover remnant of his desire, I wondered, or a sign of his hunger?
“Rafe…?”
He lifted one hand. “Give me a minute.”
I grew increasingly nervous as I sat there watching him. Was he subduing his hunger or getting ready to pounce? Only moments ago, he had warned me that our relationship could be dangerous for me.
I glanced around the room, seeking a way out, seeking a weapon. I found neither. Raphael stood between me and the front door, blocking my only exit. My chance of finding a weapon seemed equally slim since I didn’t keep a ready supply of holy water or hawthorn stakes on hand. And even if I did, there was no way I could have used either one on Rafe. That fact alone told me I was in far deeper than I’d thought.
A shudder ran through his entire body and then, slowly, he turned to face me, his expression a little sheepish as his gaze met mine. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have warned you.”
“Warned me? About what?”
“With us, the urge to make love and the urge to feed are strongly connected. For us, the taking of blood enhances our emotions and our pleasure.”
“Oh.” Once again, I had learned more than I really wanted to know.
“The idea repulses you?”
“I don’t know about that, but it doesn’t thrill me.” I wondered how his mother had handled it before she was turned. Had she let Rafe’s father drink from her? Dared I ask?
Did I really want to know?
“Kathy…I don’t want to lose you….”
My heart squeezed painfully in my chest as I waited for him to go on. I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like what he was about to say.
“I thought we could make this work, but…” He shook his head. “I’d never intentionally hurt you, but…dammit, what if I can’t help myself? Just now I wanted to taste you, and I was close to taking what I wanted, so close…”
“But you didn’t.”
“What if I can’t stop myself next time?”
“I don’t know.” Maybe he was right. Maybe we shouldn’t see each other anymore, yet even as the thought crossed my mind, I knew it wasn’t what I wanted. Right or wrong, for better or worse, I was head over heels in love with a Vampire.
Chapter Thirteen
“How did your mother handle it?” I asked. “You know, when your father wanted to, uh, taste her?”
Though we were sitting side by side on the sofa, Rafe was careful not to touch me. I appreciated his caution even as I longed for his touch. I was acutely aware of his nearness. His right shoulder and thigh were only inches from mine. The scent of his cologne tickled my nostrils.
“From what I gather, she wasn’t aware of it the first time.”
“Really? What did he do,” I asked, “drink from her while she was asleep?”
“No, while they were making love.”
“Oh. Oh!”
He smiled faintly. “They were making love the second time, too.”
“Did she know it that time?” And even as I asked the question, I wondered how he knew the intimate details of his parents’ love life.
“Yes, and many times thereafter.”
“I don’t believe you. How could anyone enjoy being bitten, or having someone drink their blood while they were making love? It’s…it’s…” I searched for a word that would describe how I felt without offending him. They were his parents, after all.
He supplied some adjectives for me. “Gross? Disgusting? Barbaric? Repulsive? Nauseating? Horrific?” He lifted one brow. “Should I go on?”
“No, I think you’ve covered it pretty well.”
Ever so slowly and provocatively, he ran the tip of one finger down the side of my neck. It was the lightest of sensations, like a downy feather brushing over my skin. “Why don’t you try it and see for yourself?”
