Embracing Midnight

by Devyn Quinn

  Callie didn’t want to be nothing.

  Maybe she was having a nervous breakdown and none of this existed at all. Maybe reality was really a padded cell and a straitjacket. Possible. Very possible. Mental instability ran in her bloodline. Would an insane person know or remember when they crossed the line between reality and fantasy? She’d inflicted damages on herself before. She’d thought she was past needing the pain. Maybe she wasn’t.

  Trouble was, she wasn’t sure. But what did an insane person know? Nothing. Not a goddamned thing. Might as well start flicking at her lips with her fingers. Blub. Blub. Blub.

  Okay. Stop it. Not funny. Not cute.

  Shit. Now she had a headache. Her head hurt from thinking too much. Sometimes she couldn’t see the point of it.

  Today was one of those days. Definitely.

  Had to have been drugs. But until she knew what was what, she wasn’t budging.

  Leaving would have been the sane thing to do. The logical thing to do.

  Callie felt neither sane nor logical. She wasn’t sure how she should feel, except that going was out of the question. Not yet. Her reality had somehow become blurred and something in her nature desperately needed to complete the connections between what she remembered and what she believed that she remembered.

  She hadn’t strayed far from the old building. With her memory strangely unreliable, she didn’t want to leave the area. A tacky convenience store two blocks away had provided restroom breaks and she’d even talked the semicute clerk into a free cup of coffee and a candy bar. Not the best or most nutritious, but it filled her stomach. Casual questioning of the clerk revealed the building had burned at least a decade ago. Those brave or stupid enough to live in the area had been waiting at least that long for new construction to begin, but the city simply lacked the necessary funds. The decay continued and nobody cared anymore.

  Armed with that little nugget, she’d spent the rest of her time exploring the building and napping. She’d found nothing indicating any sort of habitation. While not the best rest of her life, she’d found a quiet corner and dozed enough to take the edge off her fatigue.

  She sipped from her coffee cup, swallowing down the last few ounces. “Come on, already,” she muttered in irritation. She tossed the empty container away. It landed with a hollow thunk, rolled a few inches, and stopped, joining her candy wrapper. A little more litter didn’t matter. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

  The sun sank lower.

  Darkness advanced, skimming along a junk-ridden back lot. The sky was layered: bright yellows, dazzling pinks, and blazing blue hues. Each grew a little less brilliant by the second, slowly vanishing under a deepening purple hue. A sprinkling of stars would bejewel the crisp, clear, late-summer sky.

  Callie yawned and stretched. Though she’d left a text message for Norton briefly detailing further contact with Drake, she hadn’t given any clue of her whereabouts. She wasn’t ready to share her information yet.

  Maybe not at all.

  Shadows crept into the wrecked apartment. As they invaded the place, something utterly unexpected began to happen. Accompanied by the lightest flicker of a breeze, a strange distortion commenced. Shimmering golden light pulsed under the shadows, spreading over the ruin like the touch of Midas. For a moment ghostly images of the past connected with the present, seeming interposed over the wreckage.

  Adrenaline searing her veins, Callie lunged to her feet. Her mouth dropped open, her words scarcely more than a choking gasp. “Holy Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.” For ten, maybe twenty seconds she considered running as the room clouded, thickening with the swirling lines of an oppressive force. Nothing in her training had prepared her to deal with supernatural phenomena.

  The shimmering force spread out around her with blinding speed, eating up the rubble with incredible efficiency. She felt a touch then, something striking out like a blinding mental and physical blow. She faltered, felt the shove of a great strength slice straight through to her very bones. There was no time to run, no time to get out of the way.

  Callie threw up an arm in front of her eyes, shielding her face from the oncoming rush of pure pulsing power.

  A wash of illuminated sparks pummeled her back into the wall. She went perfectly still as a whirling vortex of images lit up around her. The force of an alien energy invaded her body, cutting through her like thousands of tiny sharp blades, unpleasant and invasive.

  Callie felt the floor shift beneath her feet, felt ripped apart to the tiniest of atoms and reassembled, all in the space of seconds. Her breath caught in her throat, the sudden lack of oxygen threatening to strangle her. Too shocked to think clearly, she felt her knees give under her weight.

  Unable to stay on her feet, she plopped down flat on her ass. Moaning in shock, she closed her eyes and tried to block the dizzying sensations flowing through every nerve ending.

  Time slid away. Slowly, her agony receded.

  Callie cracked open aching, swollen eyes and blinked. The splendor had returned, bright, beautiful, flawless. Trying to center herself and settle the acute nausea, she gazed around.

  “This ain’t no wild tripping hallucination,” she muttered.

  A shadowy movement caught the corner of her eye. Stiffening, she turned her head in time to see several shadows go streaking across the room. Apprehension flooded through her.

  She wasn’t alone.

  Chills scraped up her spine. She had the feeling she was being watched, felt the weight of many eyes boring down on her like laser beams. Yet every time she turned where she believed the stares were coming from, she saw little more than the shift of light displacing.

  She swallowed, knotting her hands. “Iollan?”

  No answer.

  Shivering, Callie climbed to her feet. Rubbing her hands over her arms to still the rising goose bumps, she took a cautious step forward, then a few more. She swayed where she stood, bracing herself to keep from falling. The change from trash to treasure sure packed one hell of a physical wallop. Trying to shake the disorienting vertigo hampering her wits, she cautiously progressed. Uneasiness nagged.

  The shadow shifted in front of her. The curtains veiling the canopied bed undulated as if touched by invisible hands. Shifting the curtains aside, she saw a white satin comforter and matching pillow shams. Sinful. And alluring.

  Gaze settling on the bed, she felt hollowness trickle through her gut. It had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with desire. Wetness pooled between her thighs, the beginning of a throbbing ache of emptiness.

  Without knowing why, she stroked her hand across the cool smoothness of the comforter. Waltzing in her mind’s eye the way flames might dance in the nearby hearth, a forbidden fantasy hovered on the horizon in her mind.

  Her eyelids fluttered shut. A soft moan escaped her lips. She pictured herself lying on the bed, naked, waiting for the lover who would part the drapes.

  A powerful arm banded her waist, tugging her into a male body even harder and more powerful. Legs and hips collided. A muscular chest pressed against her back. Warmth whispered across her nape. “You should have care when walking with shadows.”

  A strange sense of familiarity flooded through her. Callie’s breath caught in her throat. Her body sparked in acute awareness of his frame pressing into hers. She knew Iollan’s touch, welcomed it. He felt like a rock wall, sturdy and powerful. She automatically adjusted herself to his contours, fitting their bodies together.

  Salacious vibrations crackled along her nerve endings. She inhaled slowly, remembering his intimate touch, his passionate lovemaking. She felt the desire between them, untamed and fierce.

  Closing her eyes, she sank into him. One of her hands slipped behind her, fingers digging into tight denim to urge him closer. Anticipation coiled around her heart, working its way to her most intimate warmth. Her breasts tingled, nipples tightening into little peaks.

  She needed him. Wanted him, damn it. Her body was more than ready, suddenly aching for fulfillme
nt. At the moment she didn’t give a damn about anything other than his hot body on those cool sheets.

  Head tilting slightly, Callie offered the vulnerable softness of her neck. “I don’t know what you’re doing to me, but it’s driving me crazy.”

  His arm was an iron band, preventing her from moving. Instead of a hungry mouth ravaging her skin, something cold and solid pressed against her temple. “Forgive me, Calista.”

  Callie’s eyes snapped open. Dark metal glinted near the corner of her eye. Realizing his intent, fear jetted through her veins. She writhed, scratching at the arm locked around her waist.

  Iollan released her.

  Trapped by the bed, she tumbled face forward onto the mattress. She whipped over onto her back, raising her weight up on her elbows. Her mouth dropped open.

  Iollan stood a few feet away, overwhelming her with his presence. His big frame filled her vision. The power he radiated was that of pure malice. The gun in his hand was pointed straight at her forehead. His stern lips held the shadow of disdain.

  Every fiber in Callie’s body tightened like a wound spring. She quelled the instinct to try and get away. Run, and he would overtake her. Run, and he would shoot her down like a rabid dog. Iollan Drake had killed before. And, she realized, he intended to kill again.

  Mesmerized, obsessed, and terrified all at the same time, she gulped to catch her breath, steady the hammering of her heart. Her blood pounded so fiercely behind her temples that she found it impossible to think straight. She’d known it was possible he’d take her down. Some part of her had hoped that wouldn’t be the case. That part was, apparently, mistaken.

  Eyes chilling to a subzero temperature, he leveled his gaze. The gun in his hand didn’t waver. “Surprised?”

  Damn. How did this happen?

  Just crazy.

  And definitely not any drug this time.

  Forcing herself to focus, she glared. Unfortunately visual daggers weren’t deadly. “Surprise isn’t the emotion I’m feeling right now,” she grated. “Nice to know you were going to fuck me over without giving me a kiss this time.”

  He eyed her from head to foot, sprawled across the bed in a position normally very pleasant for a man to see. His look was intimate, probing. Hungry. His lips curled with a sly sensuality. “Fuck you? I thought about doing that first. I love humans. You’re so gullible and so easy to manipulate when your hormones are skipping around.”

  Callie immediately clamped her knees shut. “Fat chance.”

  Iollan shrugged. “My loss. Though I’ll admit it was clever of your people to send in a woman this time. I almost didn’t guess you were an agent. You should have had the sense to stay away.”

  Icy fingers wrapped around her spine. She licked dry lips, but didn’t argue. No sense in denying it, trying to keep the game going. “How long have you known?”

  Eyes chilling to a subzero temperature, he said, “I wasn’t sure at first. But blood doesn’t lie. The moment I tasted you, I knew you were dangerous.”

  She bristled. She wasn’t the one posing any danger at the moment. “So why the gun? Why not just rip out my throat with your big bad teeth?”

  He shook his head wryly. “It’s the twenty-first century, love. Trust mankind to make killing easy and efficient. Besides, ripping out your throat would be too messy. “And—he bared his teeth, seemingly perfectly normal—“it’s awkward on the fangs.” A sly grin escaped him. “You do remember those, don’t you?”

  Callie didn’t move. She barely dared to breathe. “Freak.” Her voice was a smothered monosyllable.

  He clearly heard her. “Oh, please. I enjoyed fucking with your mind almost as much as I enjoyed taking that beautiful body of yours.” His eyes raked her in an obscene manner. “Most pleasurable. Alas, the party has to come to its end.”

  Their eyes locked. Every cell in her body expanded. Just looking at him made her break out in a sweat all over again. And not because of the gun in his hand. Slow horror crept up her spine as fear channeled straight into her libido. She couldn’t possibly be turned on. How could shivers so easily turn into quakes of excitement? Sexual yearning coupled with knowing the man intended to kill her just wasn’t normal.

  Feeling the pressures of a body craving satisfaction, Callie shivered. All the blood in her body migrated to her groin. Coils of desire tightened through her, nervous energy crackling in the air. The idea of having sex with a dangerous man made her melt all over again.

  She pushed out a breath, really annoyed at herself for still wanting him. Somehow she had to summon the will to deny her desire for him, pry her mind off the image of making love with him. “No fair,” she murmured.

  His jaw clenched. “What?”

  She swallowed the knot of panic blocking her windpipe. “I still want you, damn it,” she grated. “You’ve got a fucking gun stuck in my face and all I can think about is having sex with you again.” Her voice rasped, unrecognizable to her own ears.

  As if she’d struck a nerve, his brows drew down. His expression thawed a little. The gun in his hand wavered. “I wanted you, too.” He muttered a curse through gritted teeth. “More than I’ve wanted any woman in a long time.”

  Callie swore there was a glimmer of need under all the mistrust in his eyes. Total irrational relief swept through her. A chance. All she wanted was a chance. She had no business talking this way, just because she found a man who filled the emptiness in her heart. Her eyes met his and she let out a long breath. “There’s something between us, you and me.”

  She didn’t get any further.

  Iollan shook his head reluctantly, lips pressing into a tight thin line. “There’s nothing, Calista.” He levered a bullet into the chamber. “We are at war, and I can’t let personal feelings get in the way of protecting my people.”

  His words hit like a fist. Shaken by fine tremors, cold to her very core, she forced herself to swallow her fear. If he wanted her to beg, plead for her life, he had another think coming. Losing her life meant nothing. People were born. Lived. And died. Simple. She knew how she’d gotten into this world. Knowing how she left it wouldn’t matter in a few more minutes.

  Callie lifted her chin, meeting his gaze directly. “So back up your mouth with a bullet then. Go ahead.” She wet parched lips with the tip of her tongue. “Pull the damn trigger.”

  15

  A bullet to the head. Maybe even two. That’s what she was going to get. Christ. For a vampire, he wasn’t very imaginative when it came to the methods of delivering death. Still a bullet was effective. No fuss. No muss. No pain.

  A bead of sweat trickled down her spine. As an agent working in the field she’d known her luck might run out at any time. Once again a man had fucked her over, and done it most excellently.

  Once she’d made the decision to take the bullet, there was no hesitation or doubt. She’d chosen the path her life would take. Now that she’d chosen her death, she was eager to get on with it.

  The wait was excruciating.

  Callie’s thoughts darkened. She bared her teeth and snapped, “What are you waiting for? Let’s get this fucking show on the road.” She kicked out in anger, foot swiping empty air. Let him get close enough and she’d be glad to punt those balls of his straight up between his shoulder blades. If she had to die, he might as well hurt. A lot.

  She closed her eyes, expecting to hear a shot ring out momentarily. Oh, please, let it be quick.

  Seconds ticked off.

  Nothing.

  The soft brush of his footsteps approached the bed. Something heavy dropped with a muffled thud. The mattress sank under his knee.

  Squeezing her eyes tighter, Callie felt his weight shift closer. A hand came down near her shoulder. His leg bumped hers. Fingers brushed along her jaw, sliding into her hair.

  She instinctively lifted herself, tilting her head back. She smelled the dark musky scent of his duster. She smelled his skin, heated with the scent of an aroused male. Her limbs turned liquid. She smelled her own arousal,
felt the dampness between her thighs.

  She didn’t dare open her eyes, didn’t dare hope.

  Searching lips brushed the curve of her throat. “Calista,” he murmured. “Forgive me.”

  She looked up, tears welling in her eyes. Relief pierced her daze. Instinctively she jerked into a sitting position, blinking up at him. “There’s nothing to forgive.” Her words came out, a thin whisper of relief.

  “I feel it,” he said, low, tormented. “I want you too much to watch you die.”

  Before Callie said a word, he closed the brief distance between them. Suddenly his mouth was on hers, burning hot straight into her core. His lips were hungry, tongue thrusting deep with demand that she open up, submit. Desire was like steel, immovable and overpowering.

  Helpless against the needs of her own traitorous body, Callie surrendered. The intensity in him seemed to enfold and engulf her. A wave of electric shock zinged through her body. Exciting, wicked warmth filled her. She was afraid she would dissolve into a sticky puddle.

  He was so close. Aroused.

  Arms winding around his neck, a yearning, needy sound rose from her throat. His mouth was relentless, filled with desperation and longing. She’d never been so torn in her life. Her thighs opened. She wanted to be taken completely with the same anxiety driving his kiss.

  Everything came in a rush.

  Callie wasn’t prepared for the mix of excitement, wonder, and anticipation filling her—all sensations she wasn’t ready to acknowledge. She hadn’t predicted this. Hadn’t expected anything like it. Things like this, feelings like this, didn’t blossom overnight. She wanted him more than life, more than the oxygen driving her lungs or the blood pounding in her temples. She wanted…

  Oh.

  Strong hands gripped her shoulders, pushing her back. “This can’t work.” His voice was taut, ragged as his breathing. “We can’t do this.”

  Fighting to catch her breath, and steady the aching emptiness of his withdrawal, Callie swallowed.

  Hovering just inches away, Iollan looked fabulous. Heart-stealing fabulous. Whatever he was, he wasn’t hard on the eyes. Rested, he looked bright, vital, and very much alive. His clothes were still the same from head to foot, even down to the knee-brushing duster. His thick dark hair gleamed, the unruly layers enhancing the line of his strong jaw. And his eyes. Like living flames, so clear and bright they couldn’t possibly be a natural color.