Night Reigns

by Dianne Duvall

  She turned her head, her nose nearly brushing his.

  “A little bed rest?” he murmured, repeating her earlier claim that that was all she needed.

  She raised her forearm and brushed the back of her hand against his shoulder. “If I’m too much trouble, you’ll want to be rid of me.”

  “Don’t count on it. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.” Two weeks with her and he wasn’t sure what he’d do without her. Didn’t want to know what he’d do without her. Her companionship. Her laughter and teasing. Her incredible fighting skills, always at the ready when he needed her.

  A stray thought occurred. “How did you know I was in trouble?” She had shown up at precisely the right moment, when vampires were converging on him from all sides, and she had done the same thing a week earlier.

  Marcus didn’t believe in coincidences.

  “I had a copy of the map Reordon sent you, knew the garages you would be checking and the route you would take.”

  “And, what, followed me on a hunch?”

  “Perhaps she thought you needed a babysitter,” Roland drawled, his voice strained.

  Marcus hadn’t asked Roland if he had suffered any wounds himself that night. If he had and had not yet recovered, the wounds he healed on Ami would open on his own flesh as his energy faltered.

  Guilt stilled Marcus’s tongue and prevented him from dealing Roland a scathing retort.

  “Don’t hit me,” Roland said.

  Still fondling Ami’s hair, Marcus raised an eyebrow. “For suggesting I need a sitter?”

  “No, for this. I do it with good intentions.” He looked up at Sarah. “Don’t you hit me either, wife.”

  Her eyebrows rose.

  Appearing genuinely wary, Roland raised Ami’s shirt above her full breasts, scarcely concealed beneath a tan bra.

  Face flushing a deep red, Ami hastily tried to tug her shirt down again.

  Marcus reached over to stay her. Severe bruising covered most of her chest around and beneath her heart, indicating significant internal bleeding.

  Had she come so close to death then? Had her heart been damaged? How had she continued to remain upright? To fight? What had happened to her in the past that would allow her to endure such wounds so placidly?

  “Let him heal you,” he entreated softly.

  She stilled.

  Sarah shifted restively behind the sofa. “Roland, do you need to feed first?”

  “No. I’m fine, love.”

  Though she clearly doubted his words, Sarah offered no further protest as he rested a palm over Ami’s heart.

  Marcus suppressed the urge to coldcock his friend. He wanted no one’s hands on Ami’s breasts but his own. And his hands had never even touched Ami’s breasts. Except in his fantasies.

  The horrible bruising on her chest began to fade and shrink, leaving healthy, alabaster skin behind. When Roland removed his hand, her body was once more perfect in every way.

  “Thank you, Roland,” Marcus said, offering him his arm.

  Roland grasped it with a weary smile. “Anytime, my friend.”

  Sarah circled the sofa and took Roland’s other arm. “Let’s go get some blood in you.”

  Roland nodded. As he rose, he staggered a little. Marcus held on to his arm until he regained his balance.

  Ami sat up and pulled her shirt down. “Thank you, Roland.”

  Looking exceedingly uncomfortable, Roland said, “You’re welcome?” He looked to Sarah, who smiled and nodded. “Yes,” he said more firmly. “You’re welcome.”

  Marcus laughed and met Ami’s gaze. “I did tell you he’s antisocial, right?”

  Roland cuffed him on the side of the head, then swore as he listed to the side.

  Sarah wrapped her arm around his waist to steady him and drew him away toward the kitchen. “Marcus,” she tossed over her shoulder, “would you like me to bring you some blood?”

  “Yes, please.” He could use a bag or two.

  As soon as Sarah and Roland entered the kitchen and left his sight, Marcus leaned forward and drew Ami into his arms. Ami wrapped hers around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder.

  “You’re right,” she said, her warm breath tickling his neck. “He’s not that bad.”

  “I heard that,” Roland called from the kitchen.

  They both laughed.

  Marcus closed his eyes and sighed, rubbing his cheek against her hair.

  “Are you okay?” she asked hesitantly.

  “You scared me,” he admitted. “And infuriated me.” She should have told him the extent of her injuries.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to.”

  “Your safety is more important than mine, Ami.”

  “Not according to the network’s handbook.”

  “Bugger the network’s handbook. You’re my Second, and I’m telling you that your safety comes first.”

  Her arms loosened as she drew back and looked him in the eye. “Marcus, I’m not the first Second you’ve had. You know what my job entails and—”

  Leaning forward, he sealed her lips with his own, silencing the protest she would have made.

  You’re the one who is saving the world, saving humanity. You’re the one who must be protected at all costs. He’d heard it too many times from previous Seconds. He wouldn’t listen to it from Ami. He wouldn’t lose her to violence as he had so many others.

  He wouldn’t lose her. Period.

  Though Ami had lost a lot of blood, what remained rushed through her veins at top speed as Marcus’s mouth closed over hers. He caught her lower lip between his teeth, drew his tongue across it in a slow, sensuous stroke, then begged entrance. Ami granted it gladly.

  How could he taste and smell so good after a long night hunting? She heard his breath catch, felt his hands fist in her shirt. His hips parted her knees as he rose onto his own and almost roughly pulled her forward until her bottom met the edge of the leather cushion. His arms tightened, pressing her breasts to his chest, her stomach to his, her core flush against the erection straining against the front of his cargo pants.

  Ami hummed her approval and tunneled her fingers through his soft hair, dislodging it from the ponytail he had tamed it into before hunting. So many new feelings assaulted her. Foreign sensations she knew instinctively comprised lust, desire, need.

  Marcus answered with a groan, slid his hands down to cup her bottom and hold her still as he ground against her.

  Ami gasped as fire shot through her. She clutched him tight as his lips burned a path down her neck.

  So good. Once more she understood why such contact had always been forbidden her in the past. She couldn’t seem to get close enough, wanted to feel his warm bare skin against hers.

  She curled her legs around his hips, urging him on as he moved against her.

  Marcus growled his approval and slid one hand up to cup the side of her neck. His breath warmed the skin just beneath her ear as he nipped the lobe, careful not to break the skin with his sharp fangs.

  A shiver tingled through her. She couldn’t think, couldn’t concentrate on anything but the amazing way he made her feel.

  His mouth returned to hers, devouring hungrily.

  She liked this. His hard body pressed to hers. The sharp spikes of pleasure that darted through her with every roll of his hips against her, every caress of his wicked, wicked tongue.

  “No,” Marcus murmured against her lips so softly she almost didn’t hear him.

  Her hands stilled. Had she accidentally pulled his hair?

  “Shut it,” he whispered.

  Frowning, she drew back.

  Inches away, Marcus sighed. When his lids lifted, his amber eyes glowed brightly.

  “Did I do something wrong?” she asked, unsure.

  “No.” His husky voice was rife with irritation. “Roland is being a pain in the arse.”

  Ami looked toward the kitchen, half afraid the surly immortal would be standing there watching them. He wasn’t, but ... S
he met Marcus’s gaze. “He can hear us, can’t he?”

  “Yes,” Roland said in the kitchen. Thump. “Ow! What was that for?”

  “Don’t embarrass her,” Sarah hissed.

  Marcus dropped his head forward.

  Ami touched his silky hair, brushed it back from his forehead.

  He raised his chin. His lips began to tilt up in a weary smile, but froze as something drew his gaze beyond her. Starting, he reared back and reached for one of his few remaining shuriken.

  Heart in her throat, Ami swung around to look over her shoulder.

  The room behind her was empty.

  As she turned back to Marcus, he relaxed with a light curse.

  “What—”

  He shook his head and mouthed, Later.

  Ami nodded, knowing he couldn’t tell her now if he didn’t want Roland or Sarah to hear him.

  Marcus leaned forward, pressed a light kiss to her lips, then rose and sat beside her on the sofa. “How do you feel?” he asked.

  She leaned into his side. “Light-headed.” And tingly. And hungry, but not for food.

  His brow furrowed as he wrapped a heavy arm around her shoulders. “From the blood loss?”

  Biting her lower lip, she smiled and shook her head.

  Grinning, he whispered, “I’m feeling a little light-headed myself.”

  Roland and Sarah entered.

  Roland looked strong again and was rubbing ribs Ami suspected Sarah had elbowed hard.

  Sarah carried two bags of blood, which she offered to Marcus.

  “Thank you.” Taking them, he bit down on one and quickly drained it.

  “Would you two like to join us for dinner?” Sarah asked.

  “You’re welcome to stay the day as well.”

  Ami turned to Marcus. After what had just passed between them, she was sort of anxious to be alone with him.

  Marcus set the first empty bag down on an end table. “No, thank you.” He held Ami’s gaze, seeming to gage her response.

  Surreptitiously, she lowered one eyelid in a wink, then wondered at her boldness. She had never winked at a man in her life.

  His lips twitched as he turned back to Roland and Sarah. “We need to talk, though, before we go.”

  Roland sank into a large armchair and drew Sarah down on his lap.

  It really was odd to see an immortal so many had disparaged as being cold, antisocial, and sometimes downright sadistic behave so lovingly toward his wife.

  “What’s up?” Roland asked, looking as though he would be perfectly content to spend the rest of his existence just as he was: sprawled in his favorite chair with Sarah on his lap, absently combing her fingers through his hair.

  Marcus drained the second bag, then filled the duo in on the night’s events.

  Roland stiffened. “I’m not surprised he knew my name. Bastien was very vocal in his intent to destroy me. But how the hell did he know about Sarah? Even Bastien didn’t know who she was until just before our final confrontation.”

  Marcus shrugged. “Word must have gotten out. Clearly one of Bastien’s vamps spent his spare time chatting with outsiders who had no interest in bowing to a leader.”

  “Well, they’re bowing now,” he grumbled.

  Sarah nodded. “All of them by the looks of it. We must have taken out ten or twelve tonight.”

  Marcus nodded. “I took out eight before the last stop.” He looked at Ami. “Any idea how many we fought together?”

  She performed a rapid replay in her mind. “About a dozen, not counting Roy.”

  Roland scowled. “I’ll see if Roy is all he claims to be tomorrow.”

  “No, you won’t,” Marcus protested. “He thinks I’m you.”

  Ami nodded. “And that I’m Sarah. If you show up in our stead, he’ll bolt.”

  “If he’s telling the truth,” Sarah added.

  Marcus turned to Ami. “What do you mean, in our stead? You’re not going.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “No, you’re not. You’ve lost a lot of blood and need time to recuperate.”

  “I’m fine. Besides, how exactly do you intend to stop me? I know where and when the meeting will take place.”

  He opened his mouth to prolong the argument, but Roland spoke first.

  “So, what’s the plan? You’re just going to waltz up to the lair by yourself ?”

  “By ourselves,” Ami corrected him.

  Sarah grinned.

  “No,” Marcus said. “I’m going to bring him Bastien, and see what happens.”

  That pronouncement went over about as well as an all-vegan buffet at a Cattlemen’s Association dinner.

  Sarah clamped her lips together and eyed Roland warily as though she thought he might explode.

  “First of all,” he began.

  “Roland ...” she cautioned.

  “The last person I would trust to guard my back during a vampire ambush would be Sebastien Newcombe.”

  Now Ami stiffened. “He won’t have to. I will be guarding Marcus’s back.” When Marcus opened his mouth, she glared at him. “I will be guarding your back, so get over it.”

  “Second,” Roland went on, unconcerned by their squabble, “I’m assuming you haven’t heard what happened tonight.”

  “We have been a little busy,” Marcus reminded him dryly.

  “What happened?” Ami asked, worried by the uncertainty that clouded Sarah’s gaze.

  “Bastien broke into network headquarters, assaulted several dozen guards, and executed one of the vamps in his apartment.”

  Ami’s breath left her in a rush. “What?”

  “Son of a bitch!” Marcus exclaimed.

  “I don’t believe it,” Ami protested. Bastien wouldn’t do that.

  Sarah nodded sadly. “It’s true.”

  “Chris Reordon and a hell of a lot of others are again calling for his execution,” Roland added. “I don’t know how he managed it, but Chris took the bastard into custody and weighed him down with chains. Seth is with them now.”

  “No wonder Seth didn’t answer when I called,” Marcus murmured.

  “He isn’t going to do it, is he?” Ami asked. “Execute him, I mean.”

  “I hope so,” Roland said, smiling with such malice Ami shivered.

  Sarah frowned. “Roland, don’t be like that. You know things aren’t always as they seem.”

  “Most of the time they are,” he countered, clinging tenaciously to his grudge.

  “You aren’t as you seem,” Sarah pointed out.

  Marcus snorted and quipped, “Most of the time he is.” Tightening his arm around Ami, he drew her closer.

  Warmed by the contact, she smiled up at him ... and caught him glancing surreptitiously at something behind her.

  While Roland cast aspersions on Marcus’s character, Ami subtly looked in the same direction and saw nothing.

  Roland and Marcus began to argue strategy while Sarah ran interference. Ami said little, content to let the others hash out the particulars. She already knew what her role would be ... whether they liked it or not.

  Bastien’s lair was a large, open field in which a farmhouse used to reside. The farmhouse itself had been unremarkable. Beneath it, however, had been a series of tunnels that had served as the sleeping quarters for Bastien and the hundred or so vampires he had recruited to aid him in destroying Roland and bringing down the Immortal Guardians one at a time.

  After Bastien’s defeat, the farmhouse had been burned to the ground and the tunnels packed with debris, dirt, gravel, and sand.

  With no trees to block the light of the moon or to stifle the swing of her katanas, Ami should be able to kick ass again.

  As talk continued to flow around her, fatigue set in.

  Several times, Ami saw Marcus glance to the side as unobtrusively as possible. Roland and Sarah didn’t seem to notice. Ami probably wouldn’t have either if she hadn’t been looking for it and if he didn’t rub his hand up and down her arm each time he did as though nee
ding the contact.

  Uneasiness returned with a vengeance as an explanation finally occurred to her.

  Was he seeing a ghost?

  Gooseflesh broke out on her arms at the thought.

  Was someone the rest of them couldn’t see standing right there in the room with them? Watching them? Listening to them?

  Though distracted, Ami heard the others come to an agreement. Marcus and Ami would meet Roy as arranged at Bastien’s lair (she had never doubted that much), and Roland would join them and pose as Bastien.

  Other than the short hair, Roland did bear a striking resemblance to his nemesis, something she didn’t think he appreciated his wife’s mentioning.

  Sarah, after some coaxing, agreed to perform her usual nightly patrols rather than accompany them. This could, after all, merely be a diversion meant to distract the immortals, luring as many as possible to one location, so whatever remained of the new vampire army could sweep through North Carolina’s cities and towns and recruit enough victims to rebuild their numbers without having to look over their shoulders.

  Richart and the other immortals in the area would be put on alert. If Roy’s invitation turned into the ambush everyone feared, Richart could then teleport in every able immortal in the state and, if necessary, their Seconds.

  That should suffice.

  Or so they hoped.

  Chapter 9

  “Nice video. Did you get it off of YouTube?”

  Montrose Keegan ground his teeth. He had just spent an hour filling his host in on the events of the past few years and had shown him video footage of the vampires’ battle with Roland and Sarah.

  Emrys’s reaction had not met Keegan’s expectations.

  Upon learning that vampires existed, should Emrys not have hung on Keegan’s every word? Congratulated him on the genius and courage he had demonstrated in pursuing his research? Listened with awe? Been overwhelmed by all that Keegan had achieved, by his discovering not just vampires, but a new race of humans?

  Because he wasn’t. If anything, Emrys seemed amused, as if it were all a joke.

  “No,” Keegan said, restarting the video he had just played on his laptop. “I told you, one of the vampires shot it with his cell phone. The one in the middle there, with the glowing amber eyes, is an immortal. The others are vampires. That woman”—he waited until the cell phone’s camera panned left enough to show the small, dark figure—“is Roland’s Second.” “I’m not interested in investing in your film project or whatever it is you—”