Dead After Dark

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  He was a coward. He couldn't face a future like that. All his resolve to go washed out of him. She didn't love him. He would be rejected. But he had to try.

  "Freya?"

  She lifted her head. Her great dark eyes were soft. She smiled an inquiry, waiting.

  He swallowed once. His mouth had gone dry. "Marry me."

  Her eyes widened in shock. "What?" It was a frightened whisper.

  He was at least as frightened as she was. "I love you. I haven't the courage to leave you. I know you don't love me. But if . . . if you let me stay, I could . . . I could take care of everything for you. You wouldn't have to deal with the servants, or . . ." He tried to think of how he could make himself useful to her.

  "I can't." Her voice broke.

  There it was. He gathered her into his arms. He wouldn't let her know that something inside him had just shattered. "It's all right. I knew it was a long shot. Had to try, though."

  He felt the convulsion of a sob shake her. He stroked her hair. "Don't cry. I won't importune you. You could never love a man like me." He tried a laugh. "And I told you I'd make a damnable husband."

  "I do love you, you stupid man," she choked.

  "You . . . you what?"

  "I love you." She jerked her head up, apparently angry. "I love you past all sense."

  "My God." His heart swelled. He frowned. "Then why won't you marry me? That is the customary thing when two people love each other."

  She sat up, her lovely breasts hanging above him. She set her lips. "I am going to tell you what I am sworn not to tell anyone, so that you may know why I cannot marry you." She took a breath and let it out. "I am vampire." She watched for his reaction.

  He swallowed carefully. He'd guessed. But to have it confirmed was . . . horrifying. He hoped it didn't show on his face. He had to get past the word itself to Freya. He needed to buy time. "So you did drink my blood that first night."

  She nodded.

  "Tell me about it. Being vampire, I mean."

  She looked wary. "Well. I have a parasite in my blood. We call it our Companion. It gives us certain . . . qualities."

  "The sensitivity to sunlight." He could start there. That wasn't so bad.

  "Strength. Heightened senses."

  He could deal with that. "Red eyes?"

  She chewed her lips. "This thing in our blood has power we can use. The red eyes happen when we call the power."

  "And what does the power do?"

  She gave a tiny shrug. "I can . . . influence minds." Her voice was small.

  And he had though she was a proponent of "animal magnetism," like Dr. Mesmer.

  "And if I draw enough power, the field collapses in on itself in a whirl of darkness and I pop out into another place."

  "I . . . guess I . . . saw that once."

  She nodded. "And if I die, the parasite dies with me. It has a keen urge to life. So it rebuilds its host. Forever."

  Drew closed his mouth to prevent his jaw from dropping. "Immortal?" he managed.

  "Unless I am decapitated." She looked down at her hands. "I am very old."

  "How old?"

  "Nine hundred years, or thereabouts. So you see why I couldn't marry you."

  "I'd get old. And you wouldn't." He shook his head. "You must think me a baby, naive, uninteresting."

  She reached out for his hands. "No, no. You make me see that I have not been living at all. You . . . you showed me how to make love."

  "I showed you? You're the most skilled practitioner of the art of love I can imagine."

  She straightened her shoulders. "That's because sex was my job. It wasn't love." She must have seen his shocked expression. "The Companion gives us a heightened sexuality. By using our sexuality, increasing it, we can increase our power as well. My job was to use Tantric teachings to train selected men of our kind to increase their power. They became Harriers, the weapons my father sent against those who threatened our kind by making other vampires." She looked down at her hands. "He used them against those who threatened his power, too."

  He had to go slowly here. There was so much. "Your father made you have sex with these apprentices?"

  "I wanted to serve our kind. It was a kind of sexual torture in some ways, this training. But I did it to them, for the greater good. But then he sent my sister and me to kill one we had made. I came to understand that what we were doing was wrong." She stared out the open window directly across from the bed into the night. "I realize now that she had gone a little insane with the power we had over the Aspirants. She liked the torture. It was dangerous, the training. And when I wouldn't help her with it, it killed her."

  "So it wasn't your fault she died."

  "Oh yes it was. I knew it could happen. But she had to be stopped. I carry the guilt of stopping her." She turned back to him. "So never think I knew love. I didn't even know tenderness and sex could exist together until I met you."

  She hadn't known love in more ways than one. What father could do that to his daughter?

  "But," she said, making her tone light. "You see why marrying me would be a bad idea. One can't marry a vampire who lives forever."

  A little thought darted through his brain. He pushed it down. He sat up and put his arms across his knees. "What about the blood?"

  She looked down. "I need about a cup every fortnight or so. That must seem horrible to you. But I don't kill anyone. And I can erase their memory, or supplant it with some better one; that they had wonderful sex, for instance, or that they are handsome."

  So far, so good. He could live with that. "And do they become vampires?" If they did, he might already be one.

  She gave a weary chuckle. "Of course not, else the world would be littered with vampires. No, our kind survives in a delicate balance with humans. It is strictly forbidden to make a human vampire."

  "And how does one do that?" He made his voice as neutral as he could.

  "Well, you have to get some of my blood in your system somehow--an open wound, for instance." She tried on a smile. It came out lopsided. "I've been very careful, though. You're not infected. You'd know because you get sick immediately, and you'd die without infusions of a vampire's blood for the first three days, to give you immunity to the effects of the parasite on the human system."

  "So, let me get this straight. Strength. Heightened senses. Heightened sexuality. The ability to compel others. You can disappear, and you're immortal. And the blood. Anything else I should know about?"

  She raised her brows. "That is all, I think."

  "And you love me. And you believe I love you."

  She nodded slowly.

  He took a breath. In for a penny in for a pound. He couldn't imagine life without her. And if she stayed with him and left him human, the differences between them would drive them apart. "So why not make me vampire?"

  She hugged herself, covering her breasts. "I told you, it is forbidden."

  "We're not talking about making hundreds here. Just one."

  "If you covet eternity, let me tell you, it is a terrible burden, not a benefit."

  It was as though she had slapped him. But he forged ahead. "Do you really think that of me?"

  She shook her head, but she was growing more agitated by the moment.

  "It would be easier with two facing eternity together."

  "You don't understand." She was almost pleading with him. "When love dies you'd be left a vampire. Did I mention it is impossible for us to commit suicide? The Companion's urge to life doesn't allow that kind of escape."

  "And what if the love doesn't die, Freya? If I'm not vampire, our differences will stand between us. It might be better if we parted now."

  "I know," she whispered. Her eyes were big with pain.

  She was giving up. Tears rose to her eyes.

  It was up to him, then. He reached out and took her shoulders. "Be bold, Freya. Seize what we might make of this. Take back your life from your father, and all these rules you've been forced to live by. Let's carve our ow
n place, make our own rules." He couldn't keep the pleading out of his voice.

  Drew felt a hum of life against his spine. There was a new energy in the room, more powerful by far than Freya's. They both turned. A whirling blackness, darker than the dim room, spun in the corner. Drew set his jaw. This could be bad.

  6

  Freya knew exactly what the whirling blackness was and who the vampire about to appear would most likely be. In some ways she had been waiting for this moment for over a year. She grabbed for Drew's shirt, which lay across the end of the bed, and pulled it over her head, her thoughts colliding. First Drew's outrageous proposal, which was everything she wanted but shouldn't have. She couldn't take him up on his offer, of course. Drew didn't know what life would be like as a vampire. Then came his accusation that she had ceded who she was to her father and to the Rules. And now . . . this.

  Her father materialized in the dim room. She tried to still the thumping of her heart and see him through Drew's eyes. He would hardly look as dangerous as he was. He had a great paunch under the plain brown wool of his habit. His beard was white, his eyes piercing blue. If anything, he looked like the pictures human children had of St. Nicolas. But he was no kindly elf. He was the Eldest. He ruled Mirso Monastery, the final refuge for vampires sick with the boredom and repetition of eternity. She had lived there her entire life before this last year. Actually, all she had ever seen were the tortured vampire souls who took refuge there and the Aspirants she trained to be Harriers. Were there vampires who lived full lives out in the world and never needed Mirso? The thought had never occurred to her.

  Her father's hard eyes swept the room. Drew scrambled out of the bed and stood beside her, naked. He put his arm around her shoulders for support. "Who are you?" he barked.

  Her father didn't deign to answer Drew. "Well, Freya, have you tired of your little rebellion?"

  It annoyed her that he didn't even acknowledge Drew. "He is known these days as Rubius Rozonczy," she said to Drew. "Father, this is Andrew Carlowe."

  "It is time to return to Mirso, Freya. We have need of a new Harrier, and now you alone are able to produce one."

  She had been trying to prepare for this moment for a year. "I cannot do that any more. Did you not read my letter?"

  "Your petty preferences are not at issue," he said sternly. "You are a trainer of Harriers."

  "No, Father." She wished her voice did not sound pleading. "The training is painful for them. And the endless arousal and suppression . . ." She broke off in confusion. In the end it had been torture for her as much as for them. "Sexual intercourse should be an act of trust and pleasure between two people. It . . . it shouldn't be like that."

  "It is your calling, Freya. Vampire kind needs a Harrier." He glanced to Drew. "If you wish, you can bring your plaything with you. Use him for pleasure, if you need a respite."

  She felt Drew stiffen. "He isn't an amusement, Father. I love him, and I'm not coming back to Mirso." There. She'd said it. Her mouth went dry. He was so much more powerful than she was, he could take her back by force. They both knew it.

  Her father narrowed his eyes. "You are my daughter. I am the Eldest. You will obey."

  "She's not doing anything she doesn't want to do." Freya started at Drew's intensity. He moved in front of her, as though that could protect her. "God, man, what kind of father makes his daughter engage in sex like it was a job? Fathers are supposed to love and protect their offspring."

  "You know nothing, human." Her father's eyes roved over Drew's naked body. "Are you the reason my wayward daughter has grown disobedient? I can remedy that problem." His eyes went the deepest crimson. He stalked toward the two.

  Odin and Loki, but he was going to kill Drew. He would, without a thought. Freya felt panic sweep through her. She was no match for him. He was the Eldest. Still, she called for power. Companion! The surge up her veins snapped the world into red.

  "Father, no!" she shouted.

  But he kept coming. Companion, more! She thought about pressing him back. He hesitated, looking over at her. Did he feel her push?

  "You can't stand against me, child. You know that." His voice was a boom, amplified by his power. He reached out and grabbed for Drew's shoulder.

  Drew struggled in her father's iron grip. He couldn't escape. Her father would just twist his head off. She had seen him do it. All would be over in an instant. Irrevocable.

  "No!" she shouted. Her father had both Drew's shoulders. Companion, more! As much as you have ever given.

  The world went white. That was shocking. Where was the red? What was happening? Her veins throbbed with power. Her father put both hands on Drew's head as Drew tried to twist away. A glow spread out from her like a white corona. She thought about pushing at her father. She even thrust her hands out. They glowed white, too. She knew that glow.

  Her father jerked back, taking Drew with him. He turned his crimson eyes on her. They widened and he gasped.

  "Let him go, Father." Her voice was like the wind, a whooshing sound she did not recognize.

  Her father turned to her, seeming to forget Drew entirely. Drew slumped to his knees. "You . . . you are a Harrier, daughter. I have never seen such power."

  The corona of light contracted and the room went back to dim. Freya was left gasping. How had this happened? She had seen the corona of power on other Harriers and knew what it could do. She had trained a hundred Harriers over the years. But how had she become one? "I . . . I guess all the time I was training Aspirants, I was also training me."

  "Excellent." Her father actually rubbed his hands. "Now we won't even have to wait through the training of another Aspirant for our Harrier."

  She was as powerful as her father. How odd. And that changed everything. "Don't think I'm going to be your emotionless instrument of revenge, Father. I'm staying here with Drew, and now I am almost certain there is nothing you can do about it."

  He snorted in derision. "Humans are not worth the abandonment of your true purpose, Freya. What can they understand of the scope of our existence? They do not even live long enough to become wise."

  In some ways that was the best thing he could have said. All became clear to Freya in that moment. "There is a wisdom of the heart that you have lost, Father. Or maybe you never had it." Tears sprang to her eyes. She looked past her father to where Drew was struggling to stand. "Drew is already wiser than you are, for all your age. I only hope I can learn from him."

  Her father looked back to Drew. Did he see the softness in Drew's eyes? Would he recognize it for what it was? Freya was fairly certain it was love.

  When her father snapped his head back to her, he said, "Remember the Rules, Freya." She smiled. He recognized the look, all right. And he knew what she intended. She did intend it, though she couldn't name the moment she had decided.

  Drew was standing now, his feet apart. Lord, but he was magnificent. "A father has to let his daughter go, Rubius. Even if she makes mistakes. Your mistake was that you never learned that." Freya was proud of him.

  And wonder of wonders, she saw her father look away. Was he ashamed? He took a breath and let it out of his massive chest. Maybe the fact that he recognized the look in Drew's eyes meant something. "You must have loved someone, Father, or been loved."

  He didn't acknowledge anything. He looked at her. "Had it occurred to you that I might want you by me because I missed you as well as needed you? If you want to see me, you will know where to find me. I'll find another way to make Harriers."

  The whirl of blackness engulfed him in mere seconds, much faster than she had ever been able to muster. He was . . . gone.

  She turned to Drew. "Are you all right?"

  He nodded, and ran his hand through his hair, half laughing. "You have one scary father, my love." He shot a glance her way. "How do you feel?"

  The smile that welled up in her brought a threat of tears with it. "Good." She shrugged, trying to make light of the fullness she felt inside. "Maybe . . . whole."

&n
bsp; His eyes widened in memory. "You . . . you were quite amazing."

  "I amazed myself. That was a demonstration of a Harrier's powers, in case you're interested."

  "I love a young lady whom I can truly call accomplished."

  But did he? "Having second thoughts now that you know who I really am and have seen my very scary father?"

  "I always knew who you really were, if you did not. And I think your father loves you in his very frightening way." He stepped in to her. They stood a handbreadth apart, not touching, the surface tension of attraction and hesitance in perfect balance. "And no, no second thoughts. You should have asked if I'm afraid."

  "Are you?"

  "Oh, yes. But you'll be there, won't you?"

  Warmth suffused her. She reached up and slipped one hand around his neck under the curls at his nape. "I will, Drew Carlowe. And do you want this?"

  "I do, Freya Rozonczy."

  She smiled and felt the tears spill over and course down her cheeks. That was not her last name. To her knowledge she had no last name. But it was fitting she acknowledge that, for all his faults, she was her father's daughter. And she was her own person, too, for the first time. Drew led her back to the bed, climbed up and pulled her up beside him. He lay back, his strong body even now calling to the core of her. She asked for power, enough to run out her fangs. Her eyes would be glowing faintly red. She let him see the teeth extend. He must have no illusions. "There is no going back."

  He pulled her close and kissed her, running his tongue over her fangs. "Then let us go forward." She felt his erection rising against her thigh. She throbbed in response.

  He turned his head toward her and raised his chin, exposing the artery in his neck. But she wanted this to be special, sacred even. She reached down and caressed his cock. He was fully aroused now. So was she. She kissed her way from the pulse in his throat to the place directly under his jaw. "Not yet," she whispered. Her breasts rubbed against his chest hair. He rolled her to her back. She spread her knees. She wanted him to impale her, plunge himself inside. He positioned his cock and she pulled his buttocks into her. The sweet sensation of being filled possessed her. He moved in and out with controlled intensity. Sensation built and she did not want to stop it, prolong it, or deviate from its inevitable course. She turned the tables after a while and rolled him on his back. She straddled his hips and rocked up and down, back and forth. He groaned. She bit her lips, licking them. The saliva would keep the wounds from healing immediately, but there wasn't much time.