Expecting Darkness

by Mandy M. Roth

  To date, the new attempts had been what most would term unsuccessful, as the results were left crazy, rotting, and on borrowed time. They were strong and loyal. When given an order, they followed it—to the death even. But there were other levels of these hybrids emerging daily. And Searc now feared his DNA would be used in the creation of more.

  The only comfort he had was that the semen they’d collected from him would do them no good unless they managed to find his mate. The odds of them finding that one perfect person who was created just for him were slim.

  He snorted, taking a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. “Don’t think back to the torture. Think of tomorrow. Don’t dwell on the past.”

  The past was a rabbit hole that would do him no good falling down once more. He hadn’t always been a good guy, and the shame he still carried for his past sins weighed heavily on him. They had been what used to haunt his dreams. What had caused him to wake from a dead sleep?

  The sun hadn’t gone down yet. He’d have sensed it. He was in sync with it, mourning its loss and hating it all at the same time. It acted as a warden during the day, and mocked him at night, being just out of reach.

  Regardless, the sun was still out so he shouldn’t have woken. He hesitated, tapping into his preternatural hearing to listen for a possible intruder in his home. There was nothing. No heartbeats, no sounds of another breathing, nothing.

  He was alone.

  And he was awake.

  He glanced at the clock on the end table next to his bed. His brows drew together. He’d only been asleep three hours. Generally, his body required at least five solid hours of rest. “The sleep of the dead” was how he’d heard others term what vampires did. It was oddly fitting. When in that state, they did often appear dead, and it took some doing to draw them from the slumber. They were vulnerable during that time. Many vampires kept shifters around to help watch over them during the day, but some, like Searc, took their chances on their own. He didn’t like being beholden to another. And he wasn’t afraid of death.

  He moved the sheet down more before twisting and sitting up in bed, unconcerned with the fact he was naked. He lived alone, and he wasn’t exactly shy about his body. A light sheen of sweat was on him, and he tipped his head, wondering what, if anything, he’d dreamt about. Whatever it was, it had clearly scared the shit out of him, and that wasn’t commonplace. He didn’t exactly scare easily anymore. If anything, he was the thing others feared.

  The monster under the bed.

  The killer in the darkness.

  A fucking bloodsucker.

  The harder he concentrated on his dream—or nightmare, from the obvious signs of it all—the more he felt the impulse to grab his cell phone and call a man he’d not talked to in months. A man he’d argued with the last time he’d seen him. Though that wasn’t exactly shocking. He tended to argue with his maker, the man who had turned him into a vampire, often. They’d been butting heads from the start, and three centuries had done nothing to change their dynamics. Oddly, they’d also remained friends through it all. Describing what they had was a lot like trying to explain when brothers would fight with one another but never permit anyone else to join in. However, Searc was no biological relation to his maker.

  While they now fought for the same side in the battle of good versus evil, they hadn’t always, yet they held no hate for one another. And in truth, there were so many shades of gray in the war of all wars that it was hard to tell the good guys from the bad on some days. Such was the case with Cormag.

  Cormag was a heavy hitter in the underground paranormal scene. And he was feared by most, having built a reputation on being a badass. But Searc knew another side of the man. The side that had protected women and children during epic battles in the past. The side that had fought hard for a country they both loved during the Jacobite rising. And the side of the man that had, with a heavy heart, converted all his fallen clansmen after Culloden, so that they would live to fight another day—or night, in their cases.

  And they had.

  They’d fought many battles since then. Some they’d won, some they’d lost, but they’d been present.

  The overwhelming need to call the man who had sired him, who had turned him into a creature of darkness, struck Searc with enough force that it nearly caused him to fall out of bed. He rubbed his chest again, perplexed as to what was happening. For a brief moment, he worried if witchcraft was involved. He’d been subjected to it in the past and knew it was nasty stuff. Nearly as bad as necromancer power.

  Almost.

  He pulled his thoughts together and concentrated on the sensations he’d felt upon waking. There had been no residual necromancer or witch power around him, but there had been an energy that wasn’t his. It also wasn’t threatening. It was desperate. It needed his help.

  Was something wrong with Cormag? Was Searc sensing his sire’s end?

  No.

  That couldn’t be. Cormag was fierce and powerful. Taking him down would possibly require an army. Most bad guys didn’t come bearing one.

  He could remember the rumors surrounding Cormag back in the old days. When the other clans from the Highlands of Scotland whispered that their chieftain was a demon, they’d had no idea how right they’d been. Cormag had been ruthless, as was the clan. They were fierce warriors, never giving in or surrendering. They’d stood against their enemies with pride and no fear of the end.

  It was during a battle that Searc fell, impaled by a sword; the wound was one that no healer could assist with. When Cormag appeared above him, offering something more than death, a way out, a way to keep fighting another day, it had seemed like a dream come true.

  Searc hadn’t understood the price of living forever back then. He did now. He knew that immortality came with the absence of sunlight, watching your human friends and family die, the never-ending thirst for blood, and a demon living inside of you. It came with always having to maintain control of the darkness or risk becoming what he hunted—evil.

  If he had it to do again, he’d pick death. Pushing three hundred years old, he’d had a lot of time to contemplate it all. He’d seen and done just about everything there was to do, except fall in love. That had always managed to escape him.

  Sure, he’d had women come and go from his life whom he’d had special interests in, but he’d never loved any of them. He’d never wanted something close to a real life with them. At least not until recent years. The woman he saw a future with wasn’t a woman he could have. She was untouchable.

  For one, she was Cormag’s daughter, and for another, she was far too young for him.

  He laughed softly.

  Everyone was too young for him.

  He didn’t look anywhere near his age. When he’d fallen in battle, he’d been in his twenty-sixth year. So while he was chronologically two hundred and ninety-seven years old, he didn’t look a day over twenty-six. That didn’t matter. His current situation was only serving to make him feel even older, more tired, more beat down from the never-ending battle with darkness.

  He ran a hand over his face, his thoughts still a jumbled mess. He scratched at his closely cut beard, thinking as hard as he could at the moment. There was something, just out of his mind’s grasp, telling him he had to reach out and make contact.

  But what?

  What had caused him to wake in such a manner and in such a state of panic? Closing his eyes, he tried to focus on what it had been. He calmed himself and let his mind wander. He thought more about Cormag, his maker, but that didn’t seem right. Cormag didn’t seem to fit the puzzle.

  He kept going, kept pushing through the fog in his brain and as he did he instantly thought of long, deep red hair, pale skin, and dark brown, captivating eyes. Eyes that he’d thought of often over the years. They belonged to a woman he had no business thinking of let alone dreaming of—Jessie.

  Searc stood so fast, he found himself wrapped partially in the sheet and he stumbled forward, doing a rather ungraceful dismount
from the bed. Thankfully, there were no witnesses. There was once a time, several years back, when he rarely slept alone, but those days were behind him. He didn’t have the same urge to bed any woman he found attractive that he once had. Now he seemed to hunger only for one woman. The very woman who was totally and completely off limits to him. The same one sending him into a dither now.

  Jessie.

  Searc spun around and caught sight of his disheveled reflection in the mirror mounted above a long chest of drawers.

  It was a common misconception, spurred on by fiction, that his kind couldn’t see their own reflections. Of course, he could and right now, he looked like hammered shit. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was Jessie, and his gut said something was wrong with her.

  He grabbed his cell and called Cormag at once, not caring if he woke the master vampire from his slumber. He had to know Jessie was safe and well. He clutched his phone so tight that he wasn’t sure how he didn’t break it. It rang four times before Cormag picked up.

  “Aye? This better be guid. I’ve been asleep less than two hours,” said Cormag, sounding groggy at best.

  “It’s Searc.”

  “Did you call to lecture me more on all the evils I’ve committed in my long life?” asked Cormag, sounding tired. “If so, call back later. I need my beauty sleep and if I might make a suggestion, so do you. Yer an ugly bastard.”

  “I called about Jessie,” said Searc, putting a hand on the wall near him to stay steady as additional tightness formed in his chest. Was he having a vampire’s version of a heart attack? Was that even a thing?

  “What about her?” demanded Cormag before gasping. “Has something happened to her? Are you with her now? Why are you with her?”

  Searc rubbed his chin. “Wait. Yer nae with her?”

  “Och, no. You know she chose to live closer to the university she attends and has a condo there. Normally, she’s only forty-five minutes from me, but I’m in Scotland right now. She’s nae here with me. She’s home. In the States. In Virginia. Nae far from you. I couldnae talk her into accompanying me. There are times I swear she’s more stubborn than me.”

  Searc rushed toward his oversized walk-in closet and grabbed a pair of jeans from one of the built-ins. Though he normally preferred to wear a kilt, to hell with what was fashionable. He came from a time and place where all men wore them. Frantic, he grabbed for his boots. “I’m about an hour from your main house. I’ll go now.”

  “What happened?” demanded Cormag. “Islay has nae reached out mentally or by phone. He’s overseeing things with Jessie.”

  Searc paused, his boots in hand. He should have felt settled knowing Cormag’s very capable second-in-command was looking after the young woman. Instead, he felt like a caged animal. “Something feels off.”

  Cormag sighed. “You woke me from a dead sleep after I had a ridiculous flight over here and then spent a night trying to get two different dens of vampires to sit at a table and talk peace because something feels off with my daughter to you?”

  Searc grunted. “Aye.”

  “Yer nae my second-in-command anymore, Searc, or did you forget you walked out on me nearly a hundred years ago? I know you have always been protective of Jessie, even though she came into my life long after you walked out of it, but you cannae think you’d sense danger around her when I do nae? I’m her father. I’ve always sensed any threats to her. And Islay, who is my second now, has nae reached out mystically to me.”

  “I get that, Cormag, but I’m telling you that I think something is wrong. I feel like she needs me,” he said, wanting the man to fully understand the emotions welling in him.

  Cormag was quiet a moment. “You? What would she need with you? When you do grace me with yer presence, you do nae say more than two words to my daughter, and she does nae speak to you. The two of you merely stare at one another from across the room and often run in opposite directions. Are you scared of my twenty-three-year-old daughter? I thought you more a man than that.”

  Searc couldn’t explain it. “Is she at yer main house here or at her condo? I need her condo address if she’s there.”

  “Yer nae going to my daughter. My men have it all well in hand. Carry on with yer own business and concerns.”

  Searc flipped him off, even though his maker couldn’t see him.

  Cormag grunted. “I sense what yer doing.”

  “Can you sense me about to tell you to go fuck yerself?” asked Searc. “I just woke from a deep sleep concerned for Jessie. I think she’s in danger, Cormag. Are you willing to risk her life just to show me how much I’m nae needed there anymore?”

  His sire fell silent, and then sighed. “No. I’ll contact Islay and phone you back.”

  Searc slipped his boots on, to hell with socks. He then searched his closet floor for something that resembled a clean t-shirt. He had a maid who came weekly, and she was always yelling at him to use a hamper and to stop leaving dirty clothes laying about. He didn’t care. He sniffed an old rock band shirt and shrugged, figuring it was good enough before he pulled it on. He then began to pace the length of his oversized bedroom, positive Cormag would contact him at any moment, telling him something had happened to Islay and Jessie.

  Searc thought Islay was a spoiled brat with an authority complex, but that didn’t matter. He was effective and powerful. The man could protect Jessie if need be. And Searc was sure the need was there.

  It felt like an eternity until his phone rang again. He answered before the first ring was done. “Is she hurt? Does she need me?”

  “No,” said Cormag, sounding tired once more. “Islay has assured me all is well. He said Jessie is having a lazy morning and is sleeping in after a late night of studying. He says her class this morning was canceled and that she’s at the main house, where he can watch over her with ease.”

  Searc sat on the edge of his king-sized bed, his thoughts a jumbled mess. The tightness in his chest hadn’t let up, and he knew it was because of Jessie. Something was off. Something was wrong. His body still screamed at him to go to her. That she did need him. That Cormag was wrong.

  “Yer sure?” he demanded.

  Cormag groaned. “Yes. I know you and Islay have never seen eye to eye, but he’s verra capable. And he cares for Jessie. He wouldnae lie to me. I thank you for yer concern over my daughter, but all is well. I’m going back to sleep. It’s only three in the afternoon here.”

  Searc sat there, staring at his phone, wondering if he should try to get to Jessie. It was daylight out and would prove an issue. He had an underground garage for his cars, and all of the windows in his home and vehicles were treated to help block harmful UV rays, so that wasn’t an issue. The problem was anything beyond that. Any unknowns.

  He’d do it if she needed him, but it could end poorly for him. He could tolerate direct sun for a very short burst. Nothing more.

  Still, for her, he’d try.

  He’d never been honest with Cormag about the pull he felt toward Jessie, and since he was fairly sure it was one-sided, he’d never told Jessie of it either.

  He continued to debate on going to her. Islay was Cormag’s second-in-command now, and that meant he was the most trusted among Cormag’s men. If Islay said all was well, there was no reason to doubt him. He wouldn’t want a hair on Jessie’s head harmed. He’d have to answer to Cormag then, and that wasn’t a man anyone wanted gunning for them. Plus, Searc had always gotten the sense that Islay held a torch for Jessie, but that he didn’t act on his feelings for the woman either. Probably out of respect for and fear of her father.

  The same as Searc.

  “Yer overthinking this,” he said to himself faintly, looking around his room, realizing how ridiculous he was being. Why would he dream about Jessie? He’d kept his interactions with her over the years to a minimum.

  He thought of her again, of when he’d seen her last, nearly two months ago. She’d been leaving her father’s home as Searc had been arriving. He’d caught her scent first be
fore he’d seen her, and her smell alone had driven him wild. It had demanded his attention and he’d simply stood there, watching from afar as she made her exit, kissing her father’s cheek and then heading to her tiny sports car. He’d honestly considered following her that night, but he’d resisted, unsure he could trust his demon side around her any longer.

  It had been acting strange regarding her for nearly six years, and it was only getting worse. Case in point, he’d woken from a dead sleep thinking she was in danger when she was home, tucked safely in her bed.

  “Get some sleep and stop obsessing on yer maker’s daughter,” he said as he slipped off his boots.

  Jessie Buchanan lifted her head from her pillow, positive that her head was now as heavy as a bowling ball. Groaning, she opened her eyes, the light from the window spilling into the room, temporarily blinding her. Disoriented, she lifted a hand, shielding her eyes from the rays.

  Was it morning already?

  How?

  The last thing she remembered was having dinner with Islay, her father’s second-in-command. Islay had insisted she stay for dinner even though her father had left the night before for a business trip to Scotland. She’d wanted to head back to her condo, near campus, and get some additional study time in, but Islay had been unrelenting, going so far as to make reservations for the two of them at a trendy restaurant in the heart of the city.

  Normally, weekly dinners were prepared by her father’s chef and they had them at the main house. She wasn’t sure why her father made such a big deal about them. While he could tolerate small amounts of certain foods, he didn’t exactly eat. He pretty much had a diet that consisted of blood and nothing else. That didn’t change the fact he enjoyed meeting weekly with her while she ate. Every so often, Islay joined them.

  As of late, that had been more and more.

  Jessie wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She liked weekly dinners being just she and her father. He was a busy man, his attentions split between his duties with work and his commitment to his territory and the vampires who resided within it. While he’d always been willing to make time for her, she’d never liked asking him to do so, understanding he was an important man and his attentions were needed elsewhere. Islay was normally with him all the time, though he’d not accompanied her father on the trip to Scotland. He really didn’t need the extra time during their weekly dinners to spend with her father. She did. She’d never voiced as much, fearful she’d come off as ungrateful or spoiled. Two things she despised.