Night's Mistress (Children of the Night) (4 page)

 

As was his wont, Rane stood in the shadows outside his house, enjoying the touch of the night air while Savanah put their daughter to bed. He shook his head, bemused. It was still hard to believe he was a father, or that he had grown to love Abbey Marie so deeply in such a short time. He had discovered there were many kinds of love—that of a son for his parents, that of one brother for another, that of a husband for his wife, and that of a father for his child.

He smiled into the darkness. Life, as he knew it, was good. And only promised to get better.

He glanced up at the second floor as the lights went out. In a few moments, he would go inside to find Savanah waiting for him in the living room. It was his favorite time of the night, sharing a few quiet moments with the woman he loved above all else.

He was about to go into the house when a movement to his left caught his eye. Lifting his head, he sniffed the air. “Bowden, what the devil are you doing skulking around out here in the bushes?”

Looking somewhat sheepish, Kyle stepped out of the shadows. “I was hoping you could tell me where to find Mara.”

“Why would I do that? From what I heard, you told her you didn’t want anything to do with a . . . how did you put it? A ‘bloodsucking fiend.’”

Bowden waved a dismissive hand in the air. “I didn’t mean it.”

“No? She was pretty sure you did.”

Kyle shrugged. “What did she expect? I mean, sure, I knew vampires existed. One killed my father, after all. I was around during the War. I heard my share of horror stories, but I never expected to meet one, much less fall in love with one.”

Rane grunted softly. “Doesn’t sound much like love to me.”

“Okay, I behaved badly, I admit it, but she caught me off-guard. When I asked her to tell me what she was hiding, having her go all vampire on me was the last thing I expected.”

“So, what’s changed? She’s still a vampire.”

Kyle ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can’t stop thinking about her.” He didn’t sound at all happy about it.

Rane understood what Bowden was saying, feeling. He knew all too well the effect vampires had on unsuspecting humans. All too often what mortals believed was love was nothing more than attraction to the supernatural glamour common to all the Undead.

“So, where is she?” Bowden asked.

“I can’t tell you.”

“Why the hell not? We were more than just friends, you know, not that it’s any of your business.”

“I know exactly what you were,” Rane said, his voice cool. “Just like I know you hurt her. I’m not about to give you a chance to do it again.”

Bowden took a step forward, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed. “Listen here . . .”

“No, you listen. I’ll tell Mara that you’re looking for her. If she wants to see you, she’ll find you.”

“But . . .”

“No buts,” Rane said tersely. “This conversation is over.”

 

 

“He was there?” Mara sank down in a chair in front of the hearth. “And he wants to see me?”

“That’s what he said.”

She tapped one finger against the edge of her cell phone. Kyle had gone to Rane’s house looking for her. “Did he say anything else?”

“He said he misses you, and that he behaved badly. Do you want me to tell him where you are?”

Mara stared at the flames dancing merrily in the fireplace. Did she want to see Kyle again? What was the point? Nothing had changed.

“Mara?” Rane’s voice brought her back to the present.

“Tell him . . . tell him I’ll think about it.”

“How are things in Tinsel Town?” Rane asked.

“Fine.” She smiled, thinking of Hektor . . . no, not Hektor. He was Logan now. She had to remember that.

“How’s Abbey Marie?”

“Beautiful, like her godmother.”

Mara laughed softly. “Flatterer.”

“It’s true.”

“You like it, then, being a father?”

“Yeah. It’s amazing. Abbey’s amazing. I can’t believe how much she’s changed in just the last few weeks, or how much she’s changed our lives.”

“How’s Savanah holding up?”

“She’s terrific,” Rane said. He paused a moment. When he spoke again, his tone was suddenly wistful. “I just wish Abbey was really mine. It’s not that I don’t love her,” he said quickly, “but . . .”

“I understand,” Mara said, though she really didn’t. She had never wanted children, and then Dendar had brought her across and motherhood had no longer been an option.

“So,” Rane said, “I take it Hollywood agrees with you.”

“Yes, very much.” She had seen Logan every night for the last three weeks. Later tonight, they were going to yet another Hollywood party to dance, and dine. “I’d better go. Tell everyone hello for me.”

“Will do.”

After bidding Rane good night, Mara ended the call, then sat there, her fingers beating an impatient tattoo on the arm of the chair as she waited for Logan to arrive.

 

 

The party was in full swing when Logan and Mara made their entrance. As Logan passed his overcoat to the butler, he noted that Sterling Price had pulled out all the stops for this shindig. The mansion was lit up like a Christmas tree. A full orchestra played in the ballroom. Men clad in Armani suits danced with women elegantly attired in fashionable evening gowns by Dior, Versace, and Galliano, and sporting enough diamonds to rival the number of stars in the sky. But Mara put them all to shame. She wore a floor-length emerald gown that clung to every delectable curve. The heart-shaped ruby pendant he had given her was her only adornment. Nestled in the hollow of her slender throat, it glittered like a drop of fresh blood.

They had timed their arrival so that they arrived well after dinner had been served, but a dozen round tables dressed in fine linen were laden with platters of sliced meats, fine cheeses, iced shrimp, and caviar. Baskets and bowls held a wide variety of breads and fruit. There was imported wine and champagne, of course, and a fully stocked bar.

Logan frowned at Mara when she nibbled on a slice of rare roast beef. “How can you do that?”

“Do what? Oh.” The cat was out of the bag, she thought, then shrugged. “I’m not sure, but I think it has something to do with my longevity as a vampire.”

“What’s it like?” he asked. “I can’t remember the taste of solid food.”

“It’s very good. A little salty.”

“So, what else can you eat?”

“Any red meat that’s rare.” She hadn’t tried chicken yet, or pork, or fish.

Logan glanced at the platter of meat, a look of longing in his eyes.

“Try it,” Mara urged, curious to see his reaction.

“You’ve been around quite a long time yourself.”

Looking dubious, Logan speared a slice of roast beef with a toothpick. He eyed it suspiciously, sniffed it, and then took a bite. One swallow, and he bolted from the room.

Murmuring, “Ah, well,” Mara followed him outside. She found him on the balcony, one hand clutching his stomach.

He slanted a look in her direction, then doubled over with a groan.

Murmuring, “I’m sorry,” Mara patted him on the back. When he straightened, she turned her head to the side and bared her throat. “Here, drink. Perhaps it will help.”

She closed her eyes as he ran his tongue along the side of her neck, sighed with pleasure as he drank.

Muttering an oath, Logan recoiled from her. Turning away, he spat her blood from his mouth.

“What’s wrong?”

“You taste like . . . like . . . hell, I don’t know. Poison!”

She stared at him in horror. For centuries, those of her kind had sought to drink from her. Her blood had strengthened the weak, healed wounds . . . but not Rane’s injuries, she recalled with a frown. It had taken Savanah’s blood to heal him.

Logan grabbed a glass of red wine from a passing waiter and downed the contents in a single swallow. After wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he tossed the glass over the rail of the balcony onto the grass below.

“If that’s what eating human food does to you, maybe you shouldn’t eat any more.” He shook his head. “Damn, that was vile.”

“I . . . I’m sorry, I don’t know what . . .” Bewildered, she looked up at him. “I’m sorry.”

Logan drew in a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. “All right, Mara, what the hell’s going on?”

“I don’t know.” Tears burned her eyes and wet her cheeks. “I’m changing, and . . .” She turned away from him, her voice little more than a whisper as she admitted, “I’m scared.” She hadn’t been this afraid since the night Dendar had appeared in her cell. “I think . . .” She loosed a long, shuddering sigh. “I think I’m dying.”

Since becoming a vampire, she had never contemplated her own demise, but now she was overcome with a sudden fear of death. The ancient Egyptians had believed that their time on Earth was only a step toward a better life in another world, and so they made extensive preparations to assure the comfort of their spirits, hence the lavish tombs filled with everything one might need in the next life. If she was dying, as she feared, who would see that her body was properly prepared for the afterlife? She had long ago turned her back on the religion of her ancestors, but now, facing the very real possibility of her own demise, she found her thoughts returning to the old ways, the ancient beliefs. And they were more frightening than anything she had ever known in this world. The wicked were tormented in the Netherworld, compelled to swim in their own blood, which was squeezed out of them by one of the gods of the underworld. A rather ironic punishment for a vampire, she thought morbidly.

Muttering an oath, Logan drew Mara into his arms. He had never known her to be afraid of anything. He had seen her outraged, angry, defiant, belligerent. On rare occasions, he had seen her pensive, and on even rarer occasions, sad or depressed. But never frightened, he thought as he stroked her hair.

He had sensed something different about her the last time they were together; tonight, to his chagrin, he realized what it was. She had always exuded an aura of preternatural strength unmatched by any other vampire, but he had no sense of it now. Whatever was ailing her had undermined her supernatural powers, leaving her weak and vulnerable. And that could be dangerous, because she had made a lot of enemies in the last three thousand years, and not all of them were dead.

“Here now,” Logan said, “crying won’t help.” He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and dried her eyes, noting that her tears were no longer tinged with blood. Not a good sign. There was definitely something amiss, though he had no idea what it could be. “What do you say we get out of here?”

When Mara nodded, Logan wrapped his arms around her and willed the two of them to his place. They materialized in the living room. A wave of his hand lit a fire in the hearth.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I should go home.”

“Is that what you want?”

What she wanted was to curl up in his arms, to lose herself in his touch, to see if his lovemaking was still as explosive and satisfying as she remembered. She knew he desired her. The yearning was always there, in his heated glances, in the husky timbre of his voice when he spoke her name. Thus far, she had kept him at arm’s length, but looking at him now, she could feel the walls of her resistance crumbling.

“Mara?”

She looked at him, mute. What was wrong with her? Men had always bent their will to hers. She had bestowed her favors on those who pleased her and callously cast the others aside. But tonight, all she could do was wait and hope that Logan could read her mind.

He ran his knuckles lightly over her cheek. “Do you want to stay the night?”

Weak with relief, she nodded.

His hand slid around her nape, coaxing her back into his arms. “Remember that night on the river?”

“Yes.” How could she forget? It had been the first time they made love. Even after all these years, that night remained vivid in her memory—the yellow sand beneath them, a blanket of twinkling silver stars overhead, the moon’s light reflected on the black ribbon of the Nile, the night wind whispering secrets to the trees. She had seduced him until he turned the tables on her, his mouth capturing hers, his body young and firm, his arms strong around her. She would never forget the sound of his voice, husky with desire as he tucked her beneath him, the way the curves and hollows of their bodies had fit together perfectly, the taste of his warm, living blood on her tongue.

“It was like magic.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead, the tip of her nose, her cheeks. “It was magic.”

She nodded, her breath catching in her throat as his hand slid ever so slowly and seductively down her side to rest on her thigh.

His free hand captured one of hers and he brought it to his lips. “Let’s go make magic again.”

Feeling as though she were dreaming, she followed him down the hall.

His bedroom, with its pale gray walls, black furniture, and red accents, suited him perfectly. Heavy drapes hung at the windows. The bed, covered with a black satin quilt, was fit for a sultan.

Mara sat on the edge of the mattress. After removing her shoes, she dug her toes into the thick gray carpet. When she looked up, Logan stood at the foot of the bed, watching her, his eyes hooded.

“My feet hurt,” she remarked with a shrug.

Logan nodded. Rounding the bed to where she sat, he knelt before her, a willing supplicant before his queen. Lifting her foot to rest on his thigh, he began to rub her instep.

Mara watched his hands move over her foot. Large hands. Gentle hands that were familiar with every inch of her body. She had never thought of a foot massage as being sexy, she mused as she stared at his bowed head, which just proved that even a three-thousand-year-old vampire could learn something new.