by Cynthia Eden
No one else was in the vast garage. No visitors, not even a security guard.
She had to hurry. She had to get away. Before he—
There was a man standing beside her jeep.
She couldn’t see his face. Just his body. And his hair. Long hair, pulled back at the nape of his neck. He stepped forward, into the light, and she gasped, stunned. He had William’s hair. William’s face. William’s eyes. His cheeks. His sensuous mouth.
He could have been William but for one small detail. The man before her did not have William’s slashing scar covering his cheek.
He’s my half-brother. The memory of William’s words slipped through her mind. Brother. The two men could have been twins.
He smiled at her. “Hello, Savannah. I knew you’d come.” He rubbed his face lightly. “Didn’t dear William tell you about the resemblance?” He advanced toward her like the hunter that he was.
In her visions, his face had always been cloaked by darkness. She’d never known, never dreamed that he shared the face of her lover.
“I’m told we’re quite alike,” he murmured. His nails lengthened into razor sharp claws.
His words snapped Savannah out of her shock. “You’re nothing alike. You’re a killer, a monster! William is—”
His face tensed. “What is he?” He snapped.
Good. The word whispered through her mind. Decent. Strong. “Something you’ll never be,” she said instead. “Something you can’t even understand.”
He sprang forward, his arms outstretched. His fingers looked like knives.
Savannah stood her ground. Waiting for him, waiting for the perfect moment. She could see his long, sharp teeth. See the red of his eyes. See his rage. She slid her hand into her pocket. Just a moment longer . . .
Now!
She yanked her hand out. Her fingers were wrapped around a small can of mace. She aimed for his eyes, those red, glowing eyes—
He howled in rage and pain. His hands fell away from her and moved to cover his burning eyes.
She didn’t stand around and wait for him to recover. She ran straight for her jeep. If she could get inside and lock the doors, she might be able to get away.
“You’ll pay for that,” he snarled behind her.
Her fingers fumbled, dropping the mace as she searched desperately for the keys hidden inside her purse. She heard his footsteps, pounding on the concrete after her. Where were those damn keys?
Her fingers curled around them. She pulled them out, dropping her purse as she fled. Just a few more feet . . .
He grabbed her from behind, spinning her around and shoving her against the back of her jeep.
She brought her keys up, aiming for his injured eyes. She wasn’t going to let him take her without a fight! She struck out with all of her strength.
His arm lifted, slamming into her wrist. She hit back, gouging with the keys. She missed his eye by an inch. But she left a bloody trail down his left cheek.
“You bitch!” His fingers locked around her wrist, squeezing the bone and tendon. She heard a sharp, sickening pop. The keys slipped from her suddenly nerveless fingers and fell to the ground.
The blood dripped down his cheek. He pulled her imprisoned wrist high over her head. She hit him with her free hand, pounding against his chest, his neck. He laughed and bent his head toward hers.
“I love a good fight,” he whispered, pressing his lips against hers.
She could taste blood. His, hers, she didn’t know. She twisted her head back, feeling the cold metal behind her. She kicked him, over and over, using her shoes to pound his shins.
He didn’t even seem to feel the blows. He pulled her forward and captured her free hand. Wrenching both of her arms behind her, he held her effortlessly with one steely hand.
He forced her to move back into the dark corner of the garage. She strained, struggling against him, against his overwhelming strength.
He was relentless. In seconds, he’d pressed her against the garage’s cold brick wall. His legs pushed between hers, leaving her body open, helpless. She couldn’t kick him. She couldn’t hit him, so she opened her mouth and screamed as loud as she could.
His hand clamped over mouth, driving her lips back against her teeth. This time, she knew the blood she tasted was her own.
She stared up at him, hate consuming her. This was the murdering animal that had killed her brother. Killed Sharon. Attacked Mary. Her body shook with rage.
He smiled.
“I’ve waited a long time for you,” he whispered, bending forward and licking the skin of her neck.
She tried to jerk back, but her head just rammed into the wall. He laughed at her efforts, obviously enjoying the thrill of the fight. He began to nuzzle her neck, biting her lightly. He inhaled deeply, drinking her scent.
Pulling back, he gazed down at her with eyes that flashed. “I can smell him on you,” he snapped. “He’s all over you.”
His left hand was still clenched tightly around her wrists. His right hand rose and locked around her throat. His hold tightened. She gasped, struggling for air.
“My brother’s lover,” he murmured, staring at her with disgust. “How I will enjoy killing you . . .”
She slammed her head forward, catching him in the chin. He swore, but his grip never wavered.
Tears swam in her eyes. Her head throbbed, pounded. Pain radiated from her temples in a blinding rush. She couldn’t breathe. Her throat burned. Her lungs ached. He was killing her.
William! The cry echoed in her mind. He had been right. She wasn’t strong enough to defeat Geoffrey. She wasn’t strong enough to kill the monster. And now, she would die. She wished she’d had the chance to tell William good-bye. William. Her dark knight.
Geoffrey’s head suddenly jerked up and his nostrils flared. He released, spinning around to scan the dark garage.
Savannah fell to the floor, landing in a tangled heap. She gasped, desperately trying to take in precious oxygen.
Geoffrey took a step forward, crouching low. She pulled herself to her knees, pushing up with her hands. She knew her wrist was broken, she could see the bone pushing out at an odd angle. She swallowed. It didn’t matter. The pain didn’t matter. She had to block it. She had to fight.
Geoffrey’s back was to her. She could tell that he was searching the garage, using his sharp senses to hunt.
He was obviously waiting for someone. For another kill.
She couldn’t let him do it. She couldn’t stand by while he murdered another person.
She sprang forward, throwing her body against his back. He snarled, spinning around. With an almost casual wave of his hand, he hurled her back against the wall.
She slid slowly down to the floor. The pounding in her head intensified.
He stalked toward her.
William. His name was a whisper that never slipped past her lips, a scream that echoed in her mind.
Geoffrey leaned down and pulled her to her feet. His fingers tangled in her hair, jerking her head back and exposing her throat. “Are you afraid to die?” he asked softly.
She stared into his eyes and saw her death. “No,” she murmured, knowing her time had come. She wasn’t afraid of dying. For years she’d lived with the grim specter of death looming over her. She didn’t mind dying. And she certainly didn’t fear death.
But she was angry, fiercely and completely enraged, that her brother would go unavenged and William would be forced to slay his brother alone.
Her answer seemed to catch Geoffrey off-guard. He paused, staring into her eyes.
She swallowed, tasting death. “Are you?”
His eyes narrowed in rage. He opened his mouth, exposing his long, glinting fangs. They lowered toward her throat.
She felt the scr
ape of his teeth against his throat. At the same moment, a fiery burst of pain seemed to explode inside of her mind. She burned, her mind a whirlpool of twisting agony.
A ball of light flashed before her eyes. And then she saw only darkness.
She didn’t feel his teeth as they sank into her throat. She didn’t feel her throbbing wrist, or the aching of her bruised and battered limbs.
All of the pain had vanished, disappearing into the enveloping darkness.
Her body fell limp, hanging weakly in Geoffrey’s arms.
And just as she slipped into the waiting abyss, she heard her brother’s voice. She head Mark call her name.
“SAVANNAH!” WILLIAM burst into the parking garage, fear nearly overwhelming him. With every second that passed, he could feel Savannah slipping away from him. He’d felt her the moment he’d reached Seattle. Felt the waves of pain and fear that enveloped her.
Felt the cool touch of death wrapping around her.
Savannah didn’t have much time. Her body was rebelling against her, refusing to continue fighting.
When he ran into the garage, he could feel his brother. He felt the sick, twisted rage that clung to Geoffrey like a cloak.
But, like a light being switched off, he could no longer feel Savannah. Not her warmth. Not her spirit. Not even a flicker of the pain that seemed to haunt her so.
He simply could not feel her. And that terrified him.
The scent of blood teased his nostrils. The faint smell of lavender tormented his soul.
He saw Geoffrey, his arms wrapped around Savannah, his mouth feeding at her throat.
William snarled in rage, launching himself at his brother.
Geoffrey whirled, sensing the attack. He dropped Savannah’s body to the ground and leapt at William.
They met, eyes red and teeth flashing, in a tangle of limbs and hatred. Geoffrey’s claws ripped William’s skin, tearing open his chest and leaving a bloody, gaping wound.
William’s fingernails lengthened into razor sharp claws, and he slashed out, catching Geoffrey in the shoulder. Blood slid down his brother’s arm, dripping from his hand.
“Hello, brother,” Geoffrey whispered. “It’s been too long.” He struck out with his claws, aiming for William’s exposed throat. William caught his hands in a steely grip. He clenched his teeth, and forced his brother’s claws back.
He saw Savannah from the corner of his eye. She wasn’t moving. Her body lay still and pale over a pool of blood.
“What have you done?” He snarled, sending Geoffrey flying back against the hood of a car. “What have you done?”
Geoffrey jumped from the car, landing easily on his feet. He licked his lips, catching the blood that still lingered upon him with his tongue. “I had a taste of your lover,” he said, his lips twisted into an unholy smile.
The beast within William screamed, howled in rage. He attacked. He slammed into Geoffrey, pummeling him, over and over. His claws slashed him, leaving deep cuts all over his brother’s body. His head. His chest.
Geoffrey lashed out with his foot, kicking William in the stomach. The blow sent William crashing onto the concrete.
He jumped up immediately and flew at his brother. His vision had narrowed. All he saw was Geoffrey. He was going to kill his brother. Now.
Savannah moaned, the sound soft, barely a whisper.
William froze.
Geoffrey slammed into him, sending them both tumbling to the ground. Geoffrey lifted his hand, and William realized his brother was holding a wooden stake, and it was hovering two inches over his heart.
Geoffrey’s smile widened. “Are you afraid to die, brother?”
William’s hand snapped out, faster than a striking snake, and he ripped the stake out of his brother’s grasp. He kicked up, sending Geoffrey crashing back. Geoffrey slammed into a truck, denting the side.
William jumped to his feet, the stake clutched tightly in his fist. He advanced on Geoffrey, watching coldly as his brother stumbled to his feet.
Geoffrey’s breathing came hard and fast. His face was tense, drawn from the battle and his increasing blood loss.
His gaze shifted frantically around the garage. And then he smiled, his angel’s smile. “Do you hear that, brother? Do you hear that sound?”
William froze, becoming aware of a faint, slow beat.
Geoffrey licked his lips. “It’s her heart. It’s struggling to beat. Hear it?”
He did hear it. It was slow. Too slow.
“She’s not going to make it. Your lover is dying.” Geoffrey pressed his hand against his shoulder, trying to staunch the flow of blood.
William glanced at Geoffrey and then at Savannah. He could hear her heart laboring desperately.
“What’s it going to be, brother?” Geoffrey asked. “Her life . . . or mine?”
William turned toward Savannah, and Geoffrey attacked. He slammed into William’s back. The stake fell from his grasp and clattered across the floor.
William swung back, throwing Geoffrey off him with a powerful swipe. He strained, struggling to hear the sound of Savannah’s heartbeat. He almost fell to his knees as realization dawned. He didn’t hear the beating anymore.
“Savannah!” He ran to her and slipped his hands beneath her, cradling her body against his. Her head fell back, like a broken flower.
“It’s too late!” Geoffrey snarled, pushing to his knees. “She’s dead!” Geoffrey smiled. “But don’t worry, brother, I’ll see to it that you join her . . . soon.” His brother stumbled to his feet and then ran for the door, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. As William watched in helpless fury, his brother’s body shifted, becoming mist, and he vanished.
William turned to Savannah, desperation sweeping through him. It couldn’t be too late. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, lose her.
He cradled her in his arms, pulling her tightly against his chest. Her head slipped back, revealing her bruised and bloodied throat. He touched the marks gently, with hands that shook. The wounds were deep, too deep.
“Savannah,” his voice was a whisper of sound. “Savannah, come back to me. Open your eyes and come back to me!”
She didn’t move.
He began to rock her back and forth, as if she were a child. “Open your eyes, Savannah. Open your eyes!” He commanded, pleaded.
No response.
Fear burned through him. It was too much like last time. Too much like Henry. He’d held his brother, praying for him to live, only to watch him die.
He sent his mind out, freeing it to search for hers. He would find her spirit and force her to come back to him. He caught the faint flicker of her warmth, and he followed her, stalking her like the hunter he’d once been.
Pain slammed through his mind. Deep. Fiery. All-consuming. It was her pain. Her agony. And he knew that her death was seconds away.
He tried to comfort her, to give her his strength, but he couldn’t stop the pain. Couldn’t stop the blinding flashes of light.
His gut twisted. Her end was near. Death was reaching out his hungry hands to claim her.
“No!” William screamed. “I won’t let you go! You can’t leave me!”
Not again. He would not sit by while death claimed someone else that belonged to him.
He stood, holding her slight weight easily, and ran for the parking lot exit. Beyond the concrete walls, he could see the night. He could see the faint light from the stars. The hazy moon.
Just a few more steps.
He erupted into the night, his body shooting up into the sky. Savannah was held tightly to him, locked in his powerful embrace.
Time was running out. He had to find a safe place for her. He had to make certain that she was protected so that the ritual could begin.
He scanned the terrai
n. “Hold on,” he whispered to her still figure. “Just hold on!”
There! He flew down, landing on the deserted rooftop. They would be safe here. Safe from prying eyes and his brother.
He lowered her gently onto the roof. His hand smoothed against her brow, gently pushing back her tangled hair. Her skin was pale, far too pale. She would not live much longer.
“Savannah,” her name was a sigh, a prayer. “Sweet Savannah.”
He lowered his head to her throat, still listening carefully for the faint beat of her heart. How long had it been since he’d last heard its beat? Seconds? Minutes?
Then he heard a faint stuttering sound. Her heart!
He hesitated. Was she strong enough? Would she be able to survive the kiss?
“William.”
His gaze flew to her face. Her eyes were still closed. Her cheeks hollowed. Had she spoken? Or had his feverish mind conjured her voice?
He touched her lips gently and saw her bruised throat move as she struggled to swallow, struggled to speak.
“Kiss me, William,” she begged. “Kiss me.”
His lips lowered to hers. As gentle as the wind, as soft as the night, he caressed her, worshipped her. He breathed into her mouth, trying to give her his strength, his energy, his very soul.
Her heartbeat stopped, and she gasped.
“No!” She would not leave him. He would not allow it! They had made a vow. She’d promised him eternity. He would not lose her to death.
He sank his teeth into her throat. Her sweet blood slid over his tongue, hot, pure. It made him ravenous. He wanted to drink, to drink all of her.
But he could feel her slipping away. Her spirit was leaving. She was leaving him.
He pulled back, her blood sliding down his chin. With his teeth, he ripped a long, jagged path across his wrist and put the wound over her mouth, moving her throat so that she was forced to swallow the precious liquid. She had to take his blood. She had to drink from him, or the ritual would never work.