Wild Nights

by Sharon Page

  “How many human women have you screwed, Michael?” she continued. “Did you ever love any of them? This one will only bore you. You are deserving of so much more.”

  Mrs. White splayed her hand on Michael’s chest, long fingers curving right over his heart. He yanked her hand away.

  “I’ve waited two hundred years to have you, Michael.” The vampiress trailed her hands suggestively along the jutting shelf of her breasts. “I want to offer you immortality. To make you into what you longed to be—a vampire.”

  “You’re wrong. What I want is a mortal life.” He got up from the bike. Erin realized both she and Mrs. White had let out low, appreciative hisses as he stood to his full, naked height.

  Erin’s head swam as he coolly and deliberately rejected immortality. For her.

  Mrs. White chided, “Foolish boy—”

  “I’m not a boy.”

  “I want you back, Michael.” Mrs. White’s elegant voice slipped into a whine. “I love you—I always have. I’ve spent two centuries of agony missing you.”

  “Then you wasted a hell of a lot of time.”

  Erin frowned as his maker spun and pointed accusingly at her.

  “You are going to throw away immortality for this … this insignificant human?”

  Insignificant?

  “I forbid it,” Mrs. White snapped. The woman’s mouth wrenched open, and her head jerked back. Erin gasped at the sight of long, vicious fangs…. Before she caught her next breath, she felt arms wrap around her, crushing her. She smelled flowery perfume, saw Mrs. White’s contorted face right in front of hers.

  She struggled hopelessly, but suddenly the woman’s body was pulled away. Stumbling back in shock, Erin saw Michael wrap his hand around his maker’s throat. He lifted the tall woman off the ground, squeezing so hard her eyes bulged out. Mrs. White clawed at his hands, but Erin saw Michael tighten his grip. Relentlessly. Ruthlessly.

  “Try to hurt Erin again, and I’ll kill you. I’ll rip your heart out without a thought.”

  Mrs. White trembled—whether in fear or rage, Erin couldn’t tell. Erin’s heart thudded so loud, she was certain both Michael and the vampiress could hear it clearly. She clapped her hand to her mouth in horror. If Michael became mortal, Mrs. White could claim him still. Attack him with her power and strength, and kill him. Or kill her. How could they fight a vampire? Did Michael intend to destroy his maker? Could he?

  Michael’s breath came in ragged gasps, and his face grew as red as Mrs. White’s. Now she understood—he was experiencing the pain he was inflicting. His arm began to tremble.

  Erin reached out to him, too far away to touch him, but he turned at the movement. His face looked so horrible.

  “Michael, no, don’t,” she whispered.

  Slowly, his arm shaking and jerking, Michael lowered his maker. Mrs. White swept back, even though her stiletto heels sank in the sand. “I made you. How dare you?”

  His voice was deep, dangerous. “You can’t force me to serve at your side. The only tie that can bind is love. Find your soul mate, Mrs. White. Find a man who will love you.” He spoke softly now. Gently. “It truly is better to die than not to know love. I’ve discovered—” He turned. At his tender smile, another enormous lump lodged in Erin’s throat. “—that love is the only thing worth existing for.”

  Contempt twisted Mrs. White’s exquisite features. “I wonder if you will still feel the same way when you fight over the pitiful things mortal couples fight over. And when you have to watch her die.”

  Erin’s heart lurched as his intense gaze never left her face.

  “I think it is worth the gamble.”

  “Yes, it is,” Erin agreed. “You are worth any risk, Michael.”

  “So it speaks,” Mrs. White sneered. “How can you prefer that uncultured little creature over me?”

  Michael stayed silent so long Erin wondered if he was having second thoughts. When he spoke, his voice was quiet but charged with an undercurrent of intense desire.

  “Erin is the woman I’d wait an eternity for. She’s made me understand how important it is to have a soul, because she searched hers to care for me.”

  “How much does she know about you? She probably expects a tame, faithful husband. I know what you are—”

  “You know what I was,” Michael corrected.

  Erin struggled to breathe around the stupid lumps in her throat; she could count on one hand the times she’d cried in her life. But Michael was vowing fidelity to her, promising he had changed, promising his love.

  And she knew—enough to stake her life on it—that she loved him.

  Mrs. White’s kohl-rimmed eyes blinked. “If you try to break the curse, you’ll never survive. Have you any idea what an ordeal it is? The silly girl will not have the courage to see it through. How old is she? Twenty-five? She knows nothing of true passion—”

  “I know about true love,” Erin broke in, fed up with this condescending woman. In several centuries, had no one kicked this woman’s ass? She was sorely tempted to be the first. “Michael didn’t want to let me try to break this damned curse because he was afraid for me. He was willing to go to his death just to protect me.”

  Eyes wide and flashing silver fire, the vampiress spun around. “Is this true? You would burn to keep her safe?”

  “That’s what love is about, Mrs. White,” he replied.

  “Rachel,” she said. She looked at him pleadingly. “My name is Rachel. Oh, Michael, I’ve yearned for you for two centuries and—”

  The woman stopped and reeled back as though she’d been slapped. Erin saw why. Michael was looking at his maker with pity.

  “If you die, Michael, I can destroy her any time I wish. Even if you are mortal, even if you become one of the hunters, you could not stop me killing her.”

  The lump of tears in Erin’s throat morphed into a knot of fear. Truly, the best way to protect Michael would be to let him become immortal. She took a step forward. “Michael, I think you should become a—”

  He smiled at her, a beautiful smile that set her heart aching. “Shhh, love. You have nothing to fear.” He snarled at Mrs. White—Rachel. “You can’t touch Erin. She has the protection of an elder. Of Cymon.”

  Erin gaped at Michael. She did? Cymon, the vampire Michael had phoned? What exactly was going on?

  Whoever Cymon was, he had clout. Mrs. White stared at Michael, fury mottling her perfectly made-up face. “You …” Her lips clamped shut as her shimmering eyes narrowed. “Fine, Michael, I leave you to your fate.” Mrs. White gave him one last seductive smile. “But what a terrible waste for that beautiful body of yours to go up in flames.”

  Erin’s heart soared as Michael held out his arms to her.

  Sticking her nose in the air, Mrs. White stalked off across the beach, then vanished into the dark.

  Erin stepped into the warmth of Michael’s embrace. How could Mrs. White not even care that Michael would die? The stupid woman believed a man’s heart could be bought or blackmailed or captured. Erin could barely control her anger. No wonder it had taken Michael two hundred years and the threat of destruction before he’d searched for love. The two women who’d held his soul in their hands had betrayed him: his mother—though she may have had no choice—and Mrs. White.

  Now she held Michael’s soul, and she longed to give it back to him. She didn’t even care if he walked away from her afterward.

  “Are you certain you don’t want immortality?” she asked, brushing her lips against his wide, solid chest.

  He bent his head. “I told you what I want. You. And children with you.”

  “Then you’ll let us—”

  “No way on Earth will I let you put your life in danger for me.”

  Erin pressed her breasts tight to his chest and wriggled sensuously. “Then you’d better be planning to ride away right now, because I want to make love once more, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

  She slid her hands up his long, hard naked thighs, bringing
them around to cradle his cock as it grew stiff against her palms. “Get on the bike, Michael.”

  “No—”

  “Don’t you want your fantasy?” She smiled into his unearthly, gorgeous eyes. Stubborn eyes. The tightness in her throat was rapidly dissolving into tears that ached to spring forth. “Just one last time,” she whispered.

  He swung his leg over the bike. For a moment, sexual desire and the powerful need to express her love overwhelmed everything else. Seeing Michael nude on the motorcycle was intensely erotic. He leaned over, lifted her as though she weighed nothing, and put her across the bike in front of him.

  This was much better than even riding behind him would be. As she wriggled toward him, he lifted her again and slid his cock into her wet sheath, slowly lowering her to his hips.

  Erin cried out as he filled her, as she reveled in the look of sensual hunger on his handsome face.

  Then she saw something remarkable.

  His eyes … the silver—the strange reflectivity that guarded his deepest emotions from her—vanished for a moment. But, shadowed, his eyes were still hidden, still mysterious.

  Physically she knew exactly what he wanted as he cupped her breasts and began slowly pumping into her. She moved with him, perfectly joined, perfectly mated.

  “If you are willing to give up eternity for me, you must love me,” she whispered, “just as I couldn’t imagine living for an eternity without you.”

  “Don’t.” He groaned. “You’re opening my heart—making me hope. Don’t. Just make love to me.”

  “No, not this time.” She screamed at his hard thrust, so deep it seemed to pierce her heart. “Oh, I understand!” she cried. “The curse! The most erotic sex imaginable is joining with the man you love.” She wrapped her arm around his neck. “Anything we do together is spectacular and special and incredible. Anything is worthy of saving your soul….”

  He captured her mouth, thrusting powerfully, taking her to the brink.

  At her climax, she pulled her mouth free.

  “Ooooh. Yes.”

  She shattered. Saw the stars above spinning around her. Then gasped in horror. She had forgotten to say it.

  Michael was still hard in her.

  “I want more,” she demanded. She gripped his shoulders and rode him hard, plunging ferociously onto him to pleasure him so much he lost control and came, too.

  His skin grew fiery hot under her hands. Surprised, confused, Erin looked up at Michael’s face. Her heart tripped in her chest. His face was contorted by pain, a pain she saw must be worse than burning in sunlight. She had to yank her hands away—his flesh burned like fire, searing her skin.

  How could this be happening?

  Erin almost toppled over, and she realized he was trying to lift her off the bike. She wrapped her arms around his neck, despite the heat, despite the fear ripping through her.

  She rode him, slapping down against his balls, grinding her clit against his groin. Terrified, she worked faster as she saw his body glow and turn golden in the bathing moonlight.

  No.

  She pumped wildly on him. Drove him. Felt him tense, heard him pant, knew he was about to come.

  Lost herself to the joy of making love to him.

  She took him to ecstasy.

  “I love you, Erin!” He tipped his head back and yelled the words to the sky. He held her, rocked her on him, gazed deep into her eyes, and whispered it. “I love you so much, Erin. But don’t say it. Don’t risk your life for me.”

  She’d taken him beyond his control, forced him to believe in their love as she did. Yes, she loved him. Trusted him.

  An orgasm screamed through her.

  “I love you, Michael.”

  She yelled it again and again, to make sure. Over and over with every wave crashing through her.

  No—his body was getting hotter. The smell of burning flesh turned her stomach. Pain lanced her hands where she touched him.

  It wasn’t working.

  He cried out in agony.

  Ignoring the heat, knowing she was about to die, Erin pressed her body hard against Michael’s. Horrified, she realized he was going to die without a soul. There’d be no eternity for them together.

  It wasn’t fair! He deserved to know love. He deserved happiness. Even fifty or sixty meager years of mortal life, so they could enjoy every day.

  Michael dragged her hands from his body, pushed her back with such force her shoulders hit the handlebars. Shocked by the pain, she stayed motionless as he slid out of her, fell off the bike, fell back onto the sand.

  He was trying to protect her.

  Erin jumped off, dropped to his side. Saw the glowing of his body fade away.

  Scalding tears poured down her cheeks.

  Did it mean he was gone? Was she going to die?

  Then his eyes snapped open. Again, they were no longer silver. As she watched, unable to breathe, his eyes stayed dark and human.

  Slowly, as though it was agony, Michael lifted his hands, tentatively stroked his chest and arms. “It’s cooling now. The pain is going.” His head dropped back against the sand. His chest rose with a choked laugh. “Thank you, Erin.”

  He’d whispered it, but she heard it.

  She lay down on his chest, felt the thump of his heart against her cheek.

  Three magical words. Now so easy to say.

  “I love you.”

  He held her tight.

  Erin wrapped her arm around Michael’s waist to hold him up. She saw how weakened and drained he was. He would tense his entire body as a bolt of pain shot through him. But she saw that the pain receded faster, and each time it came it was less strong. Drained and weak, Michael leaned on her as she helped him to her car.

  “I think I’ll live.” He gave a weak grin.

  “You’d better.”

  He wrapped his hand around hers, lifted it to his lips. “Will you take me home, Erin?”

  When she felt his fangs brush the back of her hand, she clapped her hand to her mouth.

  He shook his head. “It might take time…. I don’t know.”

  “Do you need blood?” she asked as she bundled him into the car.

  Groaning as he lay against the seat, he seemed surprised by her question. And more astonished by the answer. “I have no hunger.”

  Erin raced around to the driver’s side, heart in her throat. As she drove she kept looking at him. He was so quiet. At a red light she realized something astonishing.

  He was asleep. At night. His head was tilted toward her. When he let out a gentle snore, she giggled. Then she slumped over the steering wheel with relief. Her dashboard clock read twelve-twenty.

  It must have worked.

  She couldn’t wipe away the tears fast enough. Thankfully there weren’t many cars on the road so late—she could barely see where she was driving.

  She’d never known such joy in her life.

  To think, after all her years of caution, she’d given herself in faith to a vampire. And found complete happiness.

  Michael opened his eyes. Goddamn, his cell phone was ringing. He heard the tune “Cravings,” written by a Varkyre, playing out of his pants—which were lying on the floor. Stretched out beside him, a goddess in slumber, Erin mumbled and buried her face deeper into her pillow.

  He launched out of bed, fished out the phone quickly so he wouldn’t wake Erin. She needed rest.

  He stopped dead. Let his tongue rove around his mouth.

  No fangs. But he didn’t have time to appreciate it.

  “Who in hell is this?” he snapped into the phone.

  “Congratulations, Varkyre.”

  Cymon, of course. Who else would have the audacity to call at six in the goddamned morning after the night that was supposed to kill him? His anger immediately faded away.

  “Not anymore,” he said. “I’m mortal now. Guess that means I’d better keep my neck away from you.”

  Cymon laughed ruefully. “Just blood in a bag for us prissy vampires.
And you know I am pledged to also protect you as well as your mate.”

  “Yeah, well.” Michael rubbed the back of his head. “I’d say thanks, except I know you don’t have a choice.”

  “I’m an elder, mortal; I always have a choice. As do you.”

  He knew Cymon was referring to the choice he now faced to hunt his own kind. “I haven’t thought beyond this morning. I plan on taking Erin out for brunch. Then we’ll go for a walk along the river to enjoy the sun—”

  His voice caught. A day spent in the sunshine. Erin’s special gift to him. Almost the most precious gift imaginable. The most precious was her love.

  Cymon gave an exaggerated sigh. “Brings a tear to my eye.”

  “I always knew you were sentimental.”

  “Right. Well, enjoy your mortal life, Varkyre.”

  Was Michael wrong, or did he detect a genuinely wistful tone?

  “Maybe a hundred years from now,” Cymon continued, “I’ll meet your great-grandkids.” He gave an exaggerated yawn. “Night-night, mortal. Time for us vampires to get into our coffins. I’m overdue on my rest.”

  Laughing, Michael hung up. He glanced at the bed with relief. Erin was still sleeping.

  He walked to the window. Hesitating for one moment, he made a decision. He raised the blinds a few inches, let the light spill into the window and onto his bare chest.

  It hit him, enveloped him, covered his skin.

  But didn’t burn him.

  He lowered the blind and parted the slats at eye level. He stood for ten minutes, staring out, marveling at the beauty of the early morning sun.

  “Good morning.”

  He swung around, caught his breath. Smiling joyfully at him, Erin radiated happiness.

  He smiled back at her.

  “I saw you open the blinds,” she said softly. “Can you?”

  Michael nodded, drawing up the blinds to drench them both with light. He remembered thinking—in the parking garage, before his arm had caught fire—how beautiful she had looked in sunlight. Remembered thinking her hair shone like fire, all red and gold, her skin was peachy perfection, her green eyes more beautiful than the lush English countryside in spring, a sight he’d always loved.

  This morning he saw he’d understated her beauty.