“They’re dead, too.”
“Poor Olivia,” Sara murmured. “She loved him so much. I wonder what she’ll do now.”
“Get out of that town, if she’s smart. Make a new life for herself and her kids.”
Sara nodded.
They walked for an hour. Sara was aware of Travis watching her. He knew what she was going through. It hadn’t been that long ago that he’d been turned. Even knowing that didn’t really make her feel any better. She could only help herself. Her decision made, she said, “All right, let’s get it over with.”
Holding tight to her hand, he willed the two of them to a town some miles away. Although it was late, it was Saturday night and the sidewalks were crowded with couples and families.
When they came to a nightclub, Travis guided her inside. “See anyone that looks good to you?” he asked as they headed toward the bar.
“What do you mean?”
He twitched one shoulder. “Sometimes you’re drawn to a particular person. I’m not sure why.”
Sara glanced around. Couples and small groups occupied the booths that lined the walls. Several men and women sat at the bar. Most of them seemed to be alone. How was she supposed to choose one? And if she did, how was she to get him alone so she could —she grimaced—bite him?
“It’s easy. Just concentrate on your choice, then speak to his mind and he’ll come to you.”
“He will?”
“Trust me.”
She focused on the man sitting on the last stool. He was well-dressed, in his late twenties, with long black hair. She stared at the back of his head, willing him to come to her, but nothing happened. “I must be doing it wrong.”
“It takes a little practice.” Travis spoke to the man’s mind. A moment later, he slid off the bar stool and walked toward them. Taking Sara’s arm, Travis said, “Come on. He’ll follow us.”
Once outside, they walked to the end of the block and turned left into a parking lot. Travis led the way to the far corner, away from the streetlights. When he stopped, the man stopped beside him, his expression blank, his arms at his sides.
Sara stared at Travis. “I don’t think I can do this.” But even as she spoke the words, the scent of the man’s blood was calling to her, over-riding her revulsion. Taking hold of his shoulders, she rose on her tiptoes and sank her fangs—oh, lordy, she had fangs—into his neck.
She closed her eyes as she tasted human blood for the first time.
Once you taste it, you really don’t want anything else.
Oh, Travis, she thought, feeling almost giddy. You were so right! It took her a moment to realize Travis was tugging on her arm.
“Sara! Sara! That’s enough.”
“Just a little more.”
“You don’t want to kill him, do you?”
Alarmed, she pushed the man away, then grabbed a fistful of his shirt to keep him from falling face down on the pavement. “Is he going to be all right?” she asked anxiously.
“He’ll be fine.” Focusing on the man, Travis wiped the memory of what had transpired from his mind and sent him on his way.
Sara licked the last traces of blood from her lips as she watched her prey hurry across the parking lot toward the street. Prey. Not a man. Not a human being. Just prey. She shook her head as she gained a new respect for Travis. If not for him, she might have killed the guy. It would have been so easy, so satisfying, to take it all, to feel his heart beating in time with hers. She would have to be more careful in the future.
“You doing okay?” Travis asked.
Sara nodded. She felt elated, jubilant, better than she ever had in her whole life. Travis might not be happy to be a vampire, but it gave her a sense of power, of freedom, that she had never known before. Who wouldn’t want this? “What?” she asked, feeling suddenly uncomfortable under his gaze.
“Nothing.”
“Tell me.”
“I’m just a little surprised at how easily you’ve accepted all this. It doesn’t bother you at all, does it?”
The way he looked at her made her feel ashamed, as if she’d done something wrong. “What’s done is done,” she said with a shrug. “There’s no going back.”
He grimaced. Once, he’d said that very thing to her. “I guess it’s time I stopped wishing for my old life and started enjoying the new one,” he muttered. Pulling her into his arms, he kissed her. “I think it’ll be a lot easier now that I’ve got you to share it with.”
“We’ll help each other,” she said, smiling. “We’ve got a long time to figure things out.”
“So, what about that wedding?”
“The sooner the better. We should ask Carl and Winona to stand up with us.”
Travis nodded. And then he grinned. “I guess we should invite Ronan and Shannah, too.”
“Of course!”
Pulling out his cell phone, Travis called his sire.
Ronan answered on the first ring. “Don’t tell me you’re in trouble again?”
“No, Dad. I’ve got good news. Sara’s agreed to marry me. I hope you and Mom will come to the wedding.”
“I wouldn’t miss it, son,” Ronan said gruffly. “Just let us know where and when.”
Shannah looked at Ronan, one brow arched, as he put his phone away. “Dad?”
He grunted softly. “His juvenile idea of humor.”
“I’ll need a new dress,” she said. “And you’ll need a new suit.”
Ronan shook his head. Just like every other woman, she jumped at the chance to buy a new gown. Not that he minded. He would gladly buy her a hundred dresses—and shoes to match—just to see her smile.
Overstreet grinned as he tossed his phone on the sofa.
“What’s so funny?” Winona asked.
“Travis and Sara are tying the knot.”
“Sounds like a good idea to me.”
“Does it?” Carl smiled at her as he pulled her into his arms. “Maybe we should be thinking about doing the same thing.”
“Do you mean it?” she asked.
“If you’ll have me.”
“There’s no one else I’d rather be with.”
“If Sara doesn’t object, maybe we could tie the knot at the same time?”
“Our guests have accepted,” Travis said. “All we need to do now is find a venue and set the date. Oh, Carl wants to know if you’d mind making it a double wedding?”
“I don’t mind if they don’t.”
“I’ll let him know.”
Sara found an old Gothic church in upstate Vermont that she thought looked perfect for a vampire wedding. Built of white stone, it had a tall spire, ancient oak doors, and the most beautiful stained-glass windows she had ever seen. She made the arrangements with the priest and set the date for October 31st.
“Halloween?” Travis said, grinning. “Perfect. How do you feel about a double wedding?”
“With who?”
“Overstreet and Winona.”
“The more, the merrier!”
“Are you sure you’re okay with this? You could invite your parents.”
Sara shook her head. “They’d insist on a big wedding with a sit-down dinner and all their country club friends in attendance. I just can’t handle all that, or trying to explain why it has to be at night, or …” She shook her head again. “I’ll send them a telegram and tell them we eloped.”
“All right, if you’re sure.”
“I am. It’ll be just us and our new family.”
Taking her in his arms, Travis swung her around and around. “I love you, Sara Ann Winters. For now and always!” he exclaimed. “And day after tomorrow, I’ll show you how much!”
Chapter 35
Sara woke abruptly, instantly aware of what day it was and where she was. Sitting up, she brushed a wisp of hair away from her face, wondering if she would ever get used to sleeping without dreaming and emerging from nothingness to wakefulness the minute the sun slid behind the horizon.
And then she smiled. She was getting married
in two hours. When she went to bed tonight, she would be—who? Mrs. Travis Black? Or Mrs. Jim Hewitt? She laughed softly. A rose by any other name, she mused, as long as her Mr. Right was there.
She had sent a telegram to her parents the night before, informing them that she was eloping with Travis and that they would visit them as soon as they returned from their honeymoon.
She swung her legs over the side of the mattress, anticipation bubbling inside her like champagne as she went into the bathroom to shower.
Travis had contacted Ronan and Overstreet with the details, and they had all agreed to meet at the church at the appointed time.
If she didn’t hurry, she was going to be late!
Sara and Travis were the last to arrive at the church.
“We thought you’d changed your mind,” Overstreet remarked.
“No chance of that,” Travis said, holding tight to Sara’s hand.
Sara’s heart skipped a beat when she saw the minister enter through a side door and take his place in front of the altar. It was really happening. She was getting married!
“Shall we begin?” The cleric glanced at Travis, who nodded. “Very well then.” Motioning to Carl and Winona. “If you’ll two will stand here on my right,” the minister instructed. “Mr. Hewitt, you and your bride will please stand beside them.”
The minister glanced at Ronan and Shannah. “And if you two will take a place on my right, we’ll get started.” He waited while everyone took their proper place.
The ceremony was brief. Sara scarcely remembered the words she spoke, until the minister said, “Do you, Sara Winters, take James Hewitt to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, so long as you both shall live?”
As she murmured, “I do,” the stark reality hit her.
She and Travis were vampires. They might be married for centuries. When she met his gaze, he smiled, and she knew he was thinking the same thing.
When the ceremony was over, they gathered in front of the church to congratulate each other. Winona and Carl left shortly thereafter, headed for a honeymoon at the Plaza Hotel in New York City.
“How about you two?” Ronan asked. “Got a big honeymoon planned?”
“We’re going to Alaska for a while until we decide where we want to settle,” Travis replied. “We’re leaving tomorrow night.”
“Good choice this time of the year,” Ronan said. “Take care of each other.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Travis said, stifling a grin.
Ronan glared at him. “Stay out trouble, kid. I’m tired of saving your butt.”
Shannah hugged Sara. “I hope you two will be as happy as we are.”
“Me, too,” Sara said.
Shannah took Sara’s hands in hers. “Come see us when you get back. We’re family now.”
“We will,” Sara promised as Shannah and Ronan took their leave.
“Well, Mrs. Hewitt, are you ready to go home?”
Feeling suddenly shy, she nodded, then let out a gasp as her husband swung her up into his arms and transported them to a luxury hotel in Vermont.
Sara’s nerves were humming with excitement as they checked in, then took the elevator to their room.
Inside, she stepped out of her heels and looked around. It was a lovely suite, all done in mauve and green and white.
She shivered with anticipation as Travis moved up behind her. Leaning forward, he nuzzled her neck. “I love you, Mrs. Hewitt.”
“And I adore you, Mr. Hewitt.”
“Remember, you’re only Mrs. Hewitt when we’re alone,” he cautioned as he rained butterfly kisses along the side of her neck.
“I feel like a secret agent,” Sara said with a grin. “The respectable Mrs. Black in public, the mysterious Mrs. Hewitt in private.”
“And both of us love you more than life itself,” he murmured, as his hands cupped her breasts.
Turning to face him, she crooned, “Stop talking, my husband, and show me.”
“My pleasure.” His hands were moving as he spoke, removing her veil, unfastening the long row of button down the back of her gown, his gaze devouring her as she turned and stepped out of her dress.
When he reached for her, she slapped his hands away.
Purring, “My turn,” Sara removed his shirt, her fingertips sliding seductively over his chest and down to his waist. She unfastened his belt, waited while he kicked off his shoes, unzipped his fly, and stepped out of his trousers.
With a low growl, he carried her to bed and stretched out beside her. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire as he rained kisses on her lips, her breasts, her belly. “I want to explore every delectable inch of you, every hill, every valley. Every hidden place.”
Sara closed her eyes as his words and his clever hands aroused her until she was on fire for him.
She cried out as his body melded with hers, making her feel whole and complete for the first time in her life. She was his at last, she thought. Always and everlastingly his.
As he was hers.
As he would be from this night forward and forever.
~ finis ~
Excerpt from Night’s Illusion
8th book in the Children
of the Night series
Coming August 2021
Father Giovanni Lanzoni strolled through the city park’s narrow, deserted, twisting paths. A brilliant yellow moon hung low in the sky, illuminating his way, though he needed no light to guide his feet. He was Nosferatu, one of the oldest of his kind. As such, he was blessed—or cursed—with supernatural senses and preternatural strength.
Like all vampires who had survived more than a century or two, he had grown to love and appreciate the quiet beauty of the night. He enjoyed being able to see clearly in the dark, to hear the flutter of a moth’s wings, to be able to move from place to place with astonishing speed, to think himself across great distances, to move faster than mortal eyes could follow, to dissolve into mist. So many amazing supernatural powers, all his to command.
He had never expected to survive so long. He had always been a pacifist—given to contemplation rather than conflict. As a child, he had dreamed of dedicating his life to the Church. It had proved to be all he had hoped for and more. He had loved the discipline, the interior silence, the sense of inner peace born of service and self-sacrifice. Hearing confessions …
He grinned inwardly. His most recent confession – heard only a few years ago—had come from Nick Desanto. Nick had been born a slave in Egypt and had been turned by the infamous Queen of the Vampires—Mara, herself.
Giovanni had known Mara for centuries. They had met when he was still mortal. He had been a young priest at the time, hoping to render aid and comfort on a battlefield in Tuscany. She had been in search of prey. The only thing that had saved him that night had been her surprising reluctance— or perhaps it had been some ancient superstition about harming a man of the cloth.
They had met again when he was a young vampire in the streets of Paris. He had been badly injured and close to death when she found him. She had generously offered him a little of her ancient blood and it had revived him. And then, for reasons unknown, she had tasted his. They had both undergone some amazing changes since that long-ago night.
In the years since then, he had made a few friends and an enemy or two—both mortal and immortal—in countries around the globe. As a priest, he had willingly given up all thought of home and family. But now, having lived like a monk for so long, he thought he would gladly give up immortality to know the simple joys of one mortal lifetime. To experience a woman’s love. To father a child. To watch his sons and daughters grow and have children of their own. What good was living a dozen lifetimes when you had no one to share it with?
Leaving the park, he ambled down the street toward his lair.
The DeLongpre/Cordova coven was the closest thing he had to a family. He considered himself blessed indeed to be a part of their lives and to have officia
ted at their weddings.
His steps slowed as he gazed at the vast expanse of the sky. Worlds without end, he mused. Times changed, the world itself changed, but he remained forever the same. In mortality, he had been an ordained priest. As such, he had made vows of chastity, poverty, and obedience. He had been celibate in mortality.
And in death.
Lately, he had begun to rethink his vow to remain chaste. Though he was, at least in his own eyes, still a priest, he was no longer recognized as such by the Church that doubtless thought him dead long ago. He had no parish, no superior. Why did he cling to a vow that, after so many centuries, were very likely no longer binding? He had broken the others without a second thought.
Why now, after so many centuries, did he suddenly feel so alone? So lonely?
He thought of Mara again. She had spent centuries refusing to be tied down. Yet, she had been married twice—once to a mortal, and now to Logan Blackwood, the man she had loved for centuries. She had been blessed with a son.
Others of his kind had found companions. Roshan DeLongpre. Vince Cordova and his twin sons, Rane and Rafe. Mara’s son, Derek. Nick Desanto. Vampires one and all. Yet each had found love. Even feisty ex-vampire hunters Edna Mae Turner and Pearl Jackson—both turned far past their prime—had found life mates.
Why not him? Perhaps it was time to remember that, in addition to being a priest, he was first and foremost a man.
He chuckled softly. He was, undoubtedly, the world’s oldest male virgin.
The oldest male virgin vampire, he amended.
He had been turned on his thirty-ninth birthday. He recalled the event as clearly as if it had happened only last night instead of centuries ago.
He had been on his way back to the rectory after giving last rites to an aged nun when he was attacked. It had happened so fast, he’d had no chance to defend himself, although he knew now that would have been impossible. He was floating, drifting away into darkness, when the vampire suddenly reared back. Giovanni remembered staring up into a pair of blood-red eyes that somehow managed to look surprised.
“You’re a priest!” the creature hissed. “I can’t kill a priest! Heaven forgive me,” he murmured, and sinking his fangs into his own wrist, he held the bleeding wound to Giovanni’s lips. “Drink!”
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