Night's Mistress (Children of the Night)

by Ashley, Amanda

  Before she could assure him that it wasn’t necessary, he was gone.

  Fighting the urge to cry, Mara sat on the edge of the bed. She hated being so weepy all the time, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. Was it because she was becoming more human every day? Or just because she was pregnant? Pregnant! No matter how often she said it, she couldn’t believe it. All these tears made her feel weak and foolish.

  With a shake of her head, she resumed unpacking. Logan had thoughtfully emptied the large walk-in closet and the six drawers in the dresser. He really was a sweet man, she thought, and wondered again why she had left him. Boredom, perhaps, or maybe just her lifelong fear of letting anyone, mortal or vampire, get too close, see too much.

  She was hanging the last of her clothes in the closet when Logan reappeared with two dozen color samples. He spread them out on the top of the dresser. “Take your pick.”

  She moved up beside him, frowning as her gaze moved over the small colored paper squares. Looking at them made her yearn for the preternatural sight she had once taken for granted. As a vampire, she had seen colors with more clarity. When she looked at fabric, she had seen each individual thread. Now, the various shades of blue, green, pink, lavender, and yellow looked faded, washed out.

  Her preternatural hearing was gone, too. As a vampire, she would have been able to hear the traffic noise from the street below, if she wished, the tick of the clock downstairs, the whisper of a moth’s wings. But no more. It was as if she had lost half of herself.

  “Mara? Hey, if you don’t like any of these, I’ll go get some more.”

  Blinking back her tears, she said, “You pick one.”

  Logan slipped his arm around her waist. “Listen, we’re gonna get through this, okay?”

  “We?”

  “I’m in this for the long haul, darlin’. However long it takes. I love you,” he said, kissing her cheek. “I’ve always loved you. Human or vampire, it doesn’t matter. I’ll be here as long as you need me.”

  “Logan, you’re so good to me.”

  “Geez, woman, cheer up. Come on,” he said, grabbing her by the hand. “Let’s go for a swim.”

  “I don’t have a bathing suit.”

  “Good, neither do I.”

  The pool was lovely in the moonlight. Logan flicked a switch on the patio and the backyard turned into a fairyland. Twinkling colored lights shone in the shrubs and the trees, and glowed from the bottom of the pool.

  Mara sat on the edge of the deck, dangling her bare feet in the water.

  Logan, never big on modesty, shucked his clothes while she watched. He was beautiful, a young Greek god come to life, Adonis and Apollo all rolled into one.

  He winked at her; then, striking a bodybuilder pose, he flexed his muscles. “Impressed?”

  Before she could answer, he dove into the water, then surfaced in front of her. “Come on in. The water feels great.”

  “In a minute.”

  With a nod, he pushed away from the edge and began to swim with long, even strokes that quickly carried him from one end of the pool to the other, and back again.

  He was a delight to watch. He swam effortlessly, his body barely making a ripple as he moved smoothly through the water. Moonlight dappled his long black hair.

  After a hundred laps or so, he swam up to her again. “I think it’s been a minute.”

  Rising, she undressed, then dove into the pool. He was right. The water felt wonderfully erotic against her bare skin. She shrieked with mock terror when Logan came up behind her and wrapped her in his arms.

  She leaned back against him, loving the feel of his body against hers, the sensuous slide of wet skin against wet skin as she turned in his arms to face him.

  Excitement stirred deep within her as his hand cupped the back of her head. His kiss, when it came, sent fingers of flame shooting through her. Good thing they were in the pool, she thought, or she might have gone up in smoke.

  She ran her hands restlessly over his back and shoulders, groaned softly as her need for him intensified.

  Backing up against the side of the pool, he wrapped her legs around his waist and made love to her, there, in the shallow end of the pool, with the crickets singing a serenade and the moon smiling down on them.

  She was dreaming. Even in sleep, Mara found the idea astonishing. She had not dreamed since Dendar brought her across, yet she was dreaming now, of people she had known down through the ages, of cities and towns long gone.

  As if watching a movie in her mind, she saw herself walking along a dusty boardwalk in some nameless town in the Old West . . .

  She smiled inwardly, pleased by the looks the men cast her way as she passed by. She wore a yellow dress with long sleeves and a full skirt over several petticoats. High-button shoes encased her feet; white gloves protected her hands, and she carried a white parasol to shade her from the desert sun. And a hat, of course. A lady never went outside without a hat. This one sat at a jaunty angle; colorful streamers trailed down her back.

  She winked at a cowboy as she strolled by, grinned as he quickly removed his hat. She loved the cowboys. They treated her as if she were made of spun glass even though she worked in a saloon. It was the perfect place to find prey. Starved for female attention, men practically fell at her feet if she so much as looked at them. It was all too easy to take them upstairs where, instead of satisfying their lust, she satisfied her hunger, then sent them on their way, none the wiser about what had really happened.

  It was an amazingly realistic dream. She could feel the sun’s heat on her back, smell the dun-colored dust that choked the air, hear the out-of-tune notes of a distant piano.

  At the end of the street, she entered the Calico Saloon. It was her favorite haunt. She smiled at Ed Rogen as he shambled toward her.

  “Mara.” He embraced her. “Remember, you promised me the whole night.”

  She batted her eyelashes at him. “Why, Ed, how could I forget? My room, nine o’clock?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  The scene changed quickly, as dreams were wont to do, and she was in San Francisco, strolling along the waterfront in the dark of night, searching for prey, mesmerizing a young prostitute, taking the life of some thug who tried to steal the girl away from her.

  She was bending over the girl, savoring the thick, rich taste of her blood, when, abruptly, the scene changed again and now she was back in Egypt with Logan soon after she had brought him across. Such a glorious time, when he had been a new vampire. They had spent his every waking moment together as she helped him adjust to his new life. They had spent hours in each other’s arms, two supernatural creatures who never grew weary. Not surprisingly, he had reveled in his newfound ability to make love all night long. He had been an incredible lover, young, tender, eager to please her . . .

  Mara woke, her desire unfulfilled, her body bathed in perspiration. Damn, why couldn’t she have slept for another few minutes? It had been such a wonderful dream, so real she could almost feel Logan’s hands on her flesh, his breath hot on her skin, his tongue laving her breasts. Filled with yearning, she sat up and reached for her robe. She didn’t have to settle for dreams, not when Logan was just down the hall.

  She frowned, the robe in her hand forgotten. Was it Logan she wanted, or Kyle? She had thought herself in love with Kyle, so why was she dreaming of Logan? Of course, she couldn’t control her dreams, but she was awake now, so why was it still Logan that her body burned for? Maybe indecision was a part of being mortal.

  Confused, she fell back on the bed and closed her eyes. Maybe, if she was lucky, she could recapture her dream . . .

  She woke in the morning to discover that, while she’d slept, Logan had painted the bedroom. How had he managed it without waking her, she wondered, and then shrugged. He was a vampire. He wouldn’t need a light to see by, and with his preternatural speed, it wouldn’t have taken him more than a few minutes to paint the whole room.

  Sitting up, she glanced around. The room, o
nce pale gray, was now a lovely shade of sage green with sparkling white trim. Logan’s black bedspread was gone, replaced by a luxurious satin quilt that was green on one side and white on the other. New drapes hung at the window. A beautiful, old-fashioned, full-length mirror stood in one corner of the room, a note taped to the top.

  Rising, she unfolded the sheet of paper and read the message scrawled in Logan’s bold hand: So you can see how beautiful you are.

  Staring at her reflection, she wondered if it was possible to be in love with two men at the same time, and what she would do if she couldn’t make up her mind.

  Chapter Eleven

  Lou McDonald sat at her desk, quickly scanning through her e-mail. Since putting out the word that she was offering a reward for information on Mara, her inbox had been flooded with mail. It seemed every contact she had from Alaska to Mexico and in between had seen the Queen of the Vampires. Unfortunately, none of the leads had panned out.

  Lou leaned forward, her eyes narrowing as she read an e-mail from her sister in Nevada. She read it again, and yet again, and then, shaking her head, she leaned back in her chair.

  “Very funny, Cindy,” she muttered as she typed her response. Mara, pregnant in Northern Nevada. That was very funny indeed. But then, Cindy had always had a twisted sense of humor. They had been partners in the vampire hunting business since a vampire had killed their younger brother eleven years ago. Cindy didn’t have the stomach for staking hearts or taking heads, but she was aces at undercover work and ferreting out the lairs of the Undead. Working for Ramsden gave her access to his records and other valuable information. It was the only reason he was still alive.

  Lou glanced at her watch, and swore softly. She was late for her two o’clock appointment with Kyle Bowden. He was an odd duck. She had never had a client who wanted a vampire found but not destroyed. She wondered if he wanted to destroy the vampire himself or if, poor fool, he had fallen under the creature’s spell. Lou had been hunting vampires for ten years and had yet to find one who didn’t deserve a stake in the heart. But Bowden wasn’t paying her for her opinion.

  After shutting down her computer, Lou left her office. She didn’t for a minute believe that Mara was pregnant.

  But a little voice in the back of her mind kept asking, What if it’s true?

  “Pregnant?” Kyle stared at Lou. “Is that even possible?”

  “No. Vampires are unable to create life.” Lou wasn’t sure why she had even mentioned it to Bowden, except she had been curious to see his reaction.

  “So, the only lead you have is that she might be in Nevada?” Gaining his feet, Kyle paced the floor. “It’s been weeks!”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Bowden, but looking for a vampire isn’t the same as trying to find your average woman. Mara doesn’t have a Social Security number. As near as I can tell, she doesn’t have any credit cards or bank accounts. If she has a residence, it’s not in her name. The same goes for a cell phone. She doesn’t show up on any census rolls or tax records. To my knowledge, she’s not on Facebook or any of the other social networks. Vampires tend to be very protective of their identities. But I’ll find her.”

  Kyle dropped back down on the sofa. “Anything else?”

  “No. I’ll be in touch.”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  After walking Lou to the door, Kyle poured himself a shot of whiskey. The hunter claimed it was impossible for a vampire to get pregnant, but what if she was wrong? What if Mara was carrying a child—his child?

  Dammit, he should have asked for the doctor’s name, but learning that Mara might be pregnant had thrown him for a loop.

  Grabbing his cell phone, he dialed McDonald’s number, muttered an oath when he got a busy signal. Too restless to sit still, he paced the floor, then picked up his keys and left the apartment. He needed a drink, and he didn’t like to drink alone.

  Lost in thought, Lou sat at the curb in front of Bowden’s apartment while she accessed the messages on her office answering machine. A call from her mother, a wrong number, an inquiry about her services. Nothing urgent.

  Dropping the phone on the seat, she tapped her fingertips on the steering wheel. Whatever had possessed her to agree to find Mara and not destroy her? The so-called Queen of the Vampires had been alive for centuries. No doubt she had killed thousands of helpless mortals. If any of the Undead deserved to be destroyed, it was Mara.

  What if she was really pregnant?

  Lou shook her head. It was impossible and yet, what if Cindy had been telling the truth? There hadn’t been any smiley face at the end of the e-mail, nothing to indicate that Cindy was pulling her leg. So, what if it was true, and Bowden was the father? Did he have some special DNA that enabled him to impregnate the Undead? She swore softly. Now that was a scary idea. There were already too many vampires in the world without some foolish mortal going around making more.

  She glanced out the window as the mortal in question emerged from the apartment building, got into his car, and pulled away from the curb.

  Being curious by nature, and having nothing better to do, Lou started the car and followed him down the street. When he pulled into the parking lot of a tavern a few blocks away, she drove on by. What if Bowden knew Mara was pregnant and that was why he was looking for her? She shook her head. No, his surprise had been genuine.

  “Well, hell,” she muttered. She wasn’t getting anywhere here. Picking up her cell phone, she noticed a missed call from Bowden. Ignoring it, she punched in Cindy’s number.

  After listening to the recorded message, she said, “Hey, Cin, this is Lou. Just thought I’d let you know I’ll be in town tomorrow night.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Mara hadn’t been inside a grocery store more than a dozen times in her existence, and then only when she was following some tasty-looking mortal. But today she wasn’t looking for prey, she was shopping for food. Mortal food to ease the odd cravings she was experiencing, cravings made harder to fulfill because she wasn’t really sure what she was hungry for other than chocolate. She never tired of it, but, according to some prenatal guidelines she’d read on the Web, she knew she needed to eat fruits and vegetables and drink lots of milk for the baby’s sake.

  Thinking of the baby brought Kyle to mind. What was he doing? Did he miss her? She didn’t miss him as much as she’d thought she would, but then, Logan was responsible for that. He was good company, always there to cheer her when she was down, to assure her that everything would be all right.

  Earlier in the week, she had gone shopping online and bought a stove and a refrigerator. Logan had looked at her askance when the appliances were delivered.

  “I was getting tired of going out for food three times a day, or having it delivered,” she had explained with a shrug. “Besides, if I’m going to be mortal, I need to learn how to cook, not only for me, but for the baby.”

  Mortal, she thought as she moved slowly up and down the aisles. Why did anyone want to be mortal? It was tiring, it was messy, and so far, it hadn’t been much fun. She picked up one item after another, studying the pictures on the cans and the boxes, reading the directions on the packages. She knew, of course, that hot dogs weren’t made from real dogs, and that Goldfish crackers weren’t made from goldfish, but what on earth was tofu?

  She bought chocolate milk and bread sweetened with honey, several bags of miniature chocolate candy bars, chocolate-flavored cereal, and even chocolate-flavored coffee. Not exactly the kind of diet a pregnant woman was supposed to eat, she reminded herself, and with that thought in mind, she added some fruit to the cart—oranges because they smelled good, red apples because she liked the color, watermelon and peaches and pears, lettuce and tomatoes. She picked up a couple of thick steaks, and added a bottle of red wine for Logan. Lastly, she bought half a pound of rare roast beef and some cheese for sandwiches, and then headed for the checkout counter where the clerk and the box boy both flirted with her. She flirted back shamelessly, pleased that men, old and young, still found
her attractive.

  She was still smiling when the taxi pulled into Logan’s driveway. No doubt both the clerk and the box boy would have been shocked to know just how old she really was. The thought wiped the smile from her face. She had lived for thousands of years. How many years did she have left, now that she was becoming mortal? One? Ten? Twenty?

  She didn’t want to die—not in twenty years, not in a hundred.

  Blinking back tears, she paid the driver, then carried the groceries into the house. Why was this happening to her? And why now? Damn Kyle Bowden and his puppy dog eyes and his sexy smile. It was probably all his fault, she thought, putting the last of the groceries away. She had been fine until she met him.

  “Hey, what’s this?” Logan asked, coming into the kitchen. “Why are you crying?”

  Mara wiped the tears from her cheeks as Logan came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist. “I’m not.”

  He kissed the side of her neck, then turned her around to face him. “Come on, tell me what’s wrong. The cost of groceries too high? They were out of Midnight Milky Way bars? You broke a fingernail?”

  “Logan . . .”

  He kissed the tip of her nose. “I’ve been online, reading up on what we should expect during your pregnancy.”

  “Oh?”

  He nodded. “It said pregnant women tend to be overly emotional. You know, hormones out of whack and everything.”

  “I don’t want to be pregnant,” she wailed. “I don’t want to be mortal.” Mortals were weak, subject to illness and death. She could be hit by a car, struck by lightning. She could die in childbirth. Was death the end, or was there truly a life beyond this one? The thought of eternal damnation was even more frightening than the thought of dying. Not for the first time, she realized that if there was an afterlife, she was surely bound for Hell.

  “I think we’ve covered this before.”