Of A Darker Nature

by Clay, Michelle

  “I’m just hurt and scared.” Brenda grabbed Emily’s arm. “Say something, Emily.”

  She refused to turn and look at her friend. “I think you’ve said enough for the both of us.”

  ***

  Emily finished her dinner of frozen lasagna. Now she contemplated the paint samples she’d picked up yesterday. The house would be her responsibility, and she might as well do what she wanted with it. She took the samples and debated between the poinsettia and toasted chestnut swatches.

  Cursing under her breath, she tossed the paint samples back onto the pile of books on the table. Which one would be wiser? Paint first and match a sofa to it or try to coordinate furniture to the wall colors?

  She wondered how long it would take to save up for a new living room suite.

  Almost all of the furniture in the house was second hand. Select pieces belonged to Emily’s parents, and the bed she was using was the one she’d had when living at home with her parents. Trent and his goons had ruined most of it. Replacing her bedroom window had already taken a large chunk of her savings. Add it to the growing list of things destroyed, and she’d be eating peanut butter sandwiches the rest of her life.

  She rummaged the freezer for the remainder of cookie dough ice cream.

  Her spoon scraped the bottom of the container for the last sweet morsel. Savoring it, she ran her tongue along the edge of the spoon and sighed. Heaven, she hoped, would be a lot like the taste of melting chocolate on the tip of her tongue.

  She pitched the empty container into the trash then turned to wash dishes. Subtle movement behind her stole her breath away. Funny, she hadn’t heard the door or telltale creaks of movement on the hardwood floor. Would this madness ever end? Didn’t vampires understand proper etiquette?

  Her fingers pressed against the bottom of the basin in search of the knife she’d used to cut up a salad.

  The man behind her stopped next to the table. He glanced at the open pages of text and the paint swatches. “Did you consider calm storm? It’s a nice color.”

  “Get out of my house.”

  Marcus grinned. “You were all about finding me a few nights ago.”

  His debonair smile made her heartbeat stammer. “I think I've changed my mind about you.”

  Marcus laid a hand on her shoulder, and his thumb stroked her neck. His skin was cool and brought a little shiver from her. “I’m trying to be nice, Emily. But go ahead and make it difficult, it excites me.”

  Brenda chose that moment to shuffle into the kitchen. Her hair looked a mess, and she was drowning in an oversized t-shirt. Her eyes shifted toward Marcus, and she yelped in surprise.

  She stumbled backward, and her hand curled around a candle holder sitting on the kitchen island. Emily barely registered Marcus's movement. He stood next to her one moment, gone the next.

  He held Brenda against the wall, one hand wrapped around her throat. The candle holder fell to the floor between them. Brenda clawed at his hand. Her frightened eyes zipped this way, and that in their sockets as strangled noises rose from her throat.

  “Stop!” Emily’s momentum thrust the knife between them.

  The blade slid beneath the vampire’s arm, between the ribs. She hadn’t planned on stabbing him unless he tried to harm her. She also hadn’t considered Brenda’s intrusion. His reaction gave her no choice. Now, she turned wide eyes toward his face in horror.

  He glanced down at the knife still gripped in her soapy hand. His expression appeared petulant. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way…”

  Emily released the handle, unsure of what to do next. Her hands shook, and her knees wobbled like jelly. She stumbled backward a few steps. “Oh my god, Marcus. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to!”

  Brenda made a gagging noise, reminding them that she couldn’t breathe.

  Marcus loosened his grip and eased her back onto her feet. “Go back to bed, sleep until morning.”

  Brenda ambled away, eyes vacant and her gait a bit woozy. Within moments, she had gone down the hall and closed the bedroom door with a bang.

  Emily pressed herself against the lip of the sink.

  The vampire worked the knife from his ribcage with slow, deliberate movements. His eyes squinted, the tip of his tongue between his front teeth. Without comment, he tossed the knife into the basin. Emily watched in awed horror as ribbons of crimson swirled in the water.

  She licked her lips. “Why’d you let me do that? Didn't it hurt?”

  “Of course.” His eyes crinkled, and a fang was visible. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

  “You'd be amazed at what I'm capable of.” Emily’s face scrunched.

  The realization that she’d just stabbed someone became concrete in her mind.

  A dark stain blossomed across Marcus's t-shirt, just beneath his armpit. His gaze narrowed on the hollow of her throat. “You're capable of making me cranky and ravenous.”

  Emily touched the charm at her throat. “I won't allow you to drink from me.”

  He raised a brow and smirked. “You wouldn't be able to stop me.”

  One hand behind her, she inched the cutlery drawer open in search of another weapon. Her fingers danced over spoons and forks.

  “Witchcraft is a pretty dark subject.” He indicated the book she’d left open and the detailed May celebration on the page.

  His finger stroked across the edge of the book. Emily’s gaze followed the movement.

  “What are you doing to celebrate Beltane this year, Emmy?” Figuring a fork would do little damage, she gave up her search. She inched closer to shut the book and pushed the volume across the table. “It's Emily. And I’m not a witch.”

  “That’s not what I asked.” His eyes glittered like sapphires. “What's with all this?”

  “I’m not a witch.”

  “Sure, that’s what they all said right before they burned at the stake.”

  He might appear comfortable in her cozy kitchen with its coffee motif, but that might change at any moment. She couldn’t allow him to touch her either, especially since her body seemed to have a mind of its own. Her gaze drifted to his lips, and she marveled at how many times she’d kissed him. “What do you want now?”

  “I want a lot of things from you, Emily.” He crept closer, and she took a step backward. “But it seems you’ve decided I can’t be trusted, so those things will have to wait.”

  The things he hinted at made heat swirl low in her belly and pool between her legs. Focus! “Everyone tells me you’re a dangerous man and that I should run the other way if I see you.”

  “Perhaps you should.” He studied the curve of her neck.

  She got the distinct impression he imagined the taste of her blood instead. “You didn’t answer my question. What do you want?”

  “And you didn’t answer mine.” An easy smile softened his features. “The mistress of the city wants to meet you.”

  “What? Why?” She took another step backward. “No way.”

  “The way you arrive is entirely up to you. I do believe she’d like you conscious though.”

  Her heart skipped a beat at the implied threat. “Why does she want to talk to me?”

  Marcus edged closer. “Let's get moving.”

  Emily straightened from the counter. “Haven’t you ever heard that you catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar?”

  “It’s not in my nature to be sweet.” The vampire fished a black handkerchief from his back pocket.

  “I’m not going with you.” She darted into the living room.

  “I won’t hurt you unless you give me no other choice.” He pulled her against his body.

  Emily’s palm smacked his jaw. “Stop manhandling me.”

  “Try not to be so scared, it excites me.” His light blue eyes appeared darker. “And fighting me just exacerbates the urge to do other things.”

  A coil of fear knotted in her belly. What had happened to John Doe, her hero? She really missed that guy. “I think I like
d you better when you were a mystery.”

  “And I prefer you doe-eyed…” He kept eye contact with her. His hands lifted toward her face. “… and kissing me.”

  “Why blindfold me if you’re going to kill me?” There was a space of two heartbeats. “Are you going to kill me?”

  Marcus covered her eyes with the soft cloth. It was all she could do to stand still while his fingers fluttered around her head.

  “I’ve had plenty of opportunities to hurt you if I wanted. I've been watching you for days.” His hands were on her shoulders again, pushing her forward. “The fact that I haven’t should account for something. After all, I’ve allowed you to break my arm and stab me. I haven’t let anyone harm you, have I?”

  Emily considered this. It might be true that Marcus hadn’t hurt her, but what about his mistress? “I never asked for your help.”

  “I didn’t hear you complaining.” He chuckled near her ear. Surprisingly, his breath carried a hint of mint. “And the way you kissed me…”

  “That was a mistake!” She tore the blindfold from her face.

  His eyes darkened like an angry sea, and his fangs were visible. “If you don’t cooperate, I’ll bring your friend along. I guarantee it won’t be pleasant for her.” His voice held mild amusement.

  “My god, you’re an arrogant asshole.” Emily shoved at him and struggled to loosen his grip on her arm. Amazingly, his fingers relaxed and she staggered forward into the wall. Her shoulder struck the plaster, and she crumpled to the floor.

  She squealed when he scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder like a caveman. Emily screamed and pounded fists against his back. She kicked her legs and twisted her body, but he held tight and carried her outside.

  Marcus shrugged her off and pushed her up against his vehicle. “Get in.”

  Emily’s body trembled with fear and anger. Her heartbeat threatened to pound right out her chest. She had the worst luck with men!

  After she had climbed inside, he pulled the seatbelt across her chest and snapped it shut. Somehow she managed to sit still even when his knuckles brushed against her breast and hip. “Gee, you’re so considerate.”

  “Don’t get out of the car.”

  The fragrance of the leather interior engulfed her. In a way, it was somewhat comforting when combined with Marcus's hunky male scent. She waited in silence for him to get in and snap his seatbelt. He twisted the key and the car immediately purred to life. Soft music was the only noise in the cozy cabin. She caught the first notes of her favorite Aerosmith song.

  “Put the blindfold back on.” He was all business now.

  She wished she’d listened to Beau’s warnings. “I don’t feel comfortable doing this.”

  A dark frown twisted his features, and one of his hands lifted toward her.

  “Okay! I’m putting it on, see?” She tied the blindfold loosely around her head.

  “Cooperate or I’ll pull over. You do not want me to do that.”

  “Holy crap, I get it. You’re a big, bad-ass meanie. I got it, okay?”

  Her escort waited for her to move her hands. When she did, he cinched the blindfold tighter. The bridge of her nose stung with the sudden compression. Had he meant for it to hurt?

  She shrank back against the plush leather and willed him to say something, anything. She was desperate to break the silence that stretched between them. “If I’d known I was going out tonight, I would’ve thrown on some decent clothes and maybe some makeup. You ought to call a girl before showing up unexpected on her doorstep, you know?”

  He might have chuckled, but she couldn’t be sure. Aerosmith was silenced by the soft hum hiss of a disc sliding into the stereo. A harder, angrier band replaced them. She supposed it was as good a way as any to limit conversation.

  Four songs later, they rolled to a stop, and the scrape of metal sounded nearby. The driver’s side window hummed down to allow humid night air to swirl around her. Thankfully the music was turned off, and the cabin returned to some semblance of quiet.

  Marcus muttered something and a man’s deep voice acknowledged him. “Yes sir, I’ll let them know you’re back.”

  The car rolled forward, and the mechanical scraping returned. It had to be a gate. The other man was probably a guard. There went any ideas she may have had about bailing out as soon as the car stopped again.

  He cut the engine and unease sang through her once again. “What does your master want from me?”

  “At the moment, she just wants to talk.” His fingers brushed against her cheek, and she flinched. He removed the blindfold, but it made no difference. Wherever they were was pitch dark. “And I’d accommodate her if I were you.”

  Emily tried to come up with a question that might reward her with an enlightening answer. She still hadn’t come up with one by the time Marcus opened the car door and got out. The car’s interior bulb provided the only light around them.

  Damn, he’d taken the keys with him.

  He opened her door and waited for her to scoot out. Once the door closed, the interior light faded away. They were blanketed in darkness once again. “Come with me.”

  She reached for the sound of his voice. Her fingertips touched his chest, and she recoiled. “I can’t see a damn thing.”

  His mouth was suddenly at her ear. “I can see you.”

  “Can you see this?” Emily lifted her hand to make a rude gesture.

  Marcus gripped her upper arm and pulled her up several stairs. He let go only long enough to push creaking doors open. After he had guided her down a silent stretch of carpet, he stopped and flicked a switch.

  It took a moment for her eyes to adjust. A single bulb lit the hallway with a whitish glow. Plush cranberry carpet swallowed her tennis shoes as she moved alongside her chaperone. The walls were barren, no portraits or decorations were there to give the place a homey feel. There was a musty, earthy smell which reminded her of a seldom used basement.

  Marcus stopped and turned to face her once more. His expression grew stony. “Don’t try anything stupid. It’s imperative that you show her the utmost respect.”

  He pushed her through a set of heavy French doors that led to a sitting room. A large antique desk sat in the corner, surrounded by shelves of old books. Tapestries and paintings hung on the walls. Fake greenery was scattered around in what she suspected was an effort to make this room appear normal.

  A man stepped through a doorway at the back of the room and rushed toward them. “This is Miss Cross?”

  Marcus nodded. “Keep an eye on our guest for a moment, Evan. I need to have a quick word with Isabella.”

  “You’re late.” The man’s gaze roved over Marcus. “Isabella is in one of her moods so watch out.”

  Evan watched Marcus until he reached the doorway. “You might want to change your shirt first.”

  Marcus looked down at his ruined clothes. Blood from his stab wound had crusted the underside of his arm. He cast an irritated look in Emily's direction then went inside.

  “Follow me.” Emily failed to fall into step behind Evan, so he looked over his shoulder and grimaced. “Look, it won’t do any good to run. You won’t even get outside, and I guarantee he won’t be as nice. So far, you’ve been lucky.”

  “I don't feel lucky.”

  “Marcus is just cranky because he's had to do damage control. That detective you talked to knows way too much for her own good. She’s been sniffing around for days trying to find out more about us.”

  Emily’s eyes widened. “He didn’t hurt her, did he?”

  “No, of course not.” Evan’s eyes reflected kindness, but she still didn’t trust him. She allowed herself to trust Marcus for a millisecond and look where it had got her.

  He ushered her over to a beige couch. She sank onto it and clutched one of the decorative pillows in her lap.

  Another man entered the room. He and Evan spoke in low voices. The new arrival looked at her and grinned. Emily’s hand moved with a mind of its own and found th
e necklace at her throat. With nervous fingers, she turned the heart charm over and over.

  Evan sat on the edge of the desk, watching the hallway Marcus had disappeared down. The guy with the messy hair plopped down behind the desk and thumbed through a comic book. She caught his gaze peeking over its pages at her.

  Evan grimaced. “Corey, do you ever read anything without pictures in it?”

  “Nuh-uh, takes too long.” The vampire flipped another couple pages.

  Evan shook his head. “Let me know if you need help with the big words.”

  Corey shot Evan a go-to-hell look then caught Emily's curious gaze. He tossed the comic aside. He headed her way with a self-assured swagger. “You’re just a doll, aren’t you? My sister used to play with dolls. She always got mad if I took off their clothes.” He dropped onto the couch beside her. “I bet it’d be more interesting to take off yours.”

  Emily tried to scoot away. There was nowhere for her to go with him on one side and the sofa arm on the other.

  He looked over his shoulder at Evan. “Is this Marcus’s new toy? Do you think he’d be upset if I played with her a little? I promise not to break her.”

  “Get your hands off me,” Emily growled. She’d had her fill of people pawing at her.

  “You're a feisty one.” Corey winked at her. “No wonder he likes you.”

  Evan moved closer, and concern etched on his face.

  “Your hair is the prettiest shade of red I’ve ever seen. It reminds me of black bathed in blood. Is it natural or from a box?” He hooked a finger beneath her shorts.

  Emily shoved him away.

  “Oh, what’s this?” Grasping her hand, he held it up and examined it. A smile lit his features. The piercing in his lower lip glinted in the lamplight. “Whose blood do you have on you?”

  The talk of blood seemed to interest Evan. He inched a little closer, a look of exasperation on his face as he bent closer.

  Corey’s pink tongue darted out to taste her fingers. He stared at her with inquisitive brown eyes and sucked her index finger clean. “What did you do to Marcus, you naughty girl?”

  Emily jerked her hand away and wiped it on her shorts. “I stabbed him.”