As a matter of fact, Leandra realized she was wearing the exact same clothes Morgan had been wearing. The little black T-shirt with the deep plunging neckline, the hem of it hovering inches above of her navel. Around her neck there was a necklace of some matte-black metal, a gleaming red stone hanging in the hollow of her throat.
Just like the necklace Morgan wore. Leandra hadn’t noticed any of this before now.
The Hunter smiled as though she knew what Leandra was thinking. She glanced down at her clothes with a half smile. “I am bound to her for some reason. Completely, totally bound. As long as she lives, I live.”
“Who are you?”
Now the Hunter smiled, a mysterious little smile as she lowered her lashes over blue eyes. “Don’t you know?”
Leandra rolled her eyes and turned away from the witch.
The Hunter only laughed. The laughter didn’t reach her eyes. She gazed around them once more, her eyes sad. “Yes, one could wait here a long while. But do you really want to do that? Spend ages here alone? A lonely life is hard enough, but a lonely half life, caught between life and the hereafter—I would wish that on no one.”
A shiver raced down Leandra’s spine, followed by an ache that began in her heart and spread throughout her entire being. No. No, she didn’t want to be here alone for another moment, much less years.
“I do not wish to stay here, Hunter. But I cannot leave.”
“You cannot because you have too much fear inside. What is it you fear so, Leandra? Can you tell me? Do you even know?”
A low, husky laugh rippled through the air, and both Leandra and the Hunter scowled as the fog shifted, thinned, allowing Morgan to join them. “She fears her own weakness,” Morgan purred, reaching up and stroking a finger down the surface of the gleaming red stone in her necklace. “Just like you fear your own strength.”
The Hunter glanced at Morgan, her eyes bored, her tone dry as she responded, “I do not fear my strength, Morgan.”
“You certainly were hesitant to use much of it against me, old woman,” Morgan said with a shrug of her shoulders. “You had it inside you to get rid of me. But you were afraid. You let that fear control you.”
Now the Hunter smiled, her eyes chilly. “It was not hesitation, child, and it certainly wasn’t a fear of you. It was boredom. Life has become such a tedious existence. Had I chosen, I could have snuffed out your life like it was nothing more than a candle flame.”
Morgan started to speak, and Leandra said, “Why don’t you just go away?”
She smiled nastily, glancing at the Hunter. “When I go, she goes. And then you’d be alone here.”
Leandra lifted a shoulder, shrugging lazily. “It’s not up to you, Morgan, when you go. Especially not if you are tied to her; you have no power over her.”
Cool green eyes narrowed, glinting with rage, and angry red flags of color rode high on Morgan’s cheeks. “You cannot comprehend my power,” Morgan hissed.
Leandra laughed. “Your power is nothing compared to what I have seen in her,” she drawled. “You are nothing.”
Morgan sneered. “At least I’m not ruled by fear. You fear the darkness in your soul. I felt that anger in you. I felt what you wanted to do with me. You wanted to feel my blood spill on your hands. You wanted to tear me limb from limb. No good, decent Hunter feels like that. And you couldn’t even revel in your impulses. Instead, you choke on the guilt.”
There was a short laugh, and Leandra glanced at the Hunter. Through the roaring of guilt and the churning nausea, Leandra heard the woman say, “Hunters may no longer be completely human, but we still have our humanity. We feel the same things all people feel: hunger, fear, hatred . . . rage. Feeling those things doesn’t make Leandra less of a Hunter.”
Morgan smiled wickedly. “No, but her doubt does.”
DOUBT—WAS IT REALLY THAT SIMPLE?
Leandra was alone again. Time had passed. She didn’t know how much time, but it had been a while since she had seen the Hunter or Morgan.
Enough time had passed that Leandra had to admit something to herself. She was afraid—afraid that sooner or later, she’d realize she wasn’t strong enough to be a Hunter. Or that they would see it. The Hunters. These people who had taken her in. She’d disappoint them sooner or later. She’d see disgust in Malachi’s eyes, distaste in Mike’s. Lori would turn from her.
She’d lose them, and she’d be alone again.
Or worse, she’d fallback into what she had once been.
WHY WAS IT THAT SHE SUDDENLY FEARED BEING alone? She’d been that way most of her life.
A sound broke through the muffling barrier of fog.
A voice.
Leandra.
She felt a presence drawing near, felt somebody reaching out. But they were too far away.
Wrapping her arms around her waist, she hugged herself tightly. Too far away . . .
Just come to me, Leandra. It’s time to let go.
Time to let go. But was it that easy? She wanted to leave this place. Yet there were things stopping her. She couldn’t even understand them completely. Her fear. Her doubts.
And the Hunter. She didn’t want to leave the Hunter alone.
Fear, doubts, those she could handle. She wouldn’t be a prisoner to them.
The Hunter, though . . .
“What about the Hunter?” Leandra whispered, tears stinging her eyes. Leaving the Hunter alone, trapped with nobody but Morgan, it felt wrong.
She felt a presence behind her, and she turned, facing the Hunter as the fog between them began to thicken. It was pulling her away. Leandra struggled against it. Could she leave yet?
“You cannot stay for me, Leandra. It is time . . .”
CHAPTER FIVE
What remained of his patience was splintering. Mike sat by Leandra’s bedside across from Kelsey. The witch had one of Leandra’s hands cupped in both of hers and she sat utterly, completely still.
Just like she had for the past hour.
Which she did every damned day, and had done, every damned day, for the past two and half weeks.
Leandra wasn’t waking up. Whatever in the hell was wrong wasn’t something that time could cure.
His patience snapped, and he stood up, reaching for the hanging bag of blood and sliding the clamp that would halt the flow. He’d been watching Brianna do this long enough; he knew the basics of what he had to do when he moved her.
And he sure as hell was moving her.
Kelsey’s eyes flew open, and Brianna looked up as machines began to beep. “Damn it, Mike, what are you doing?” Brianna demanded.
Kelsey let go of Leandra’s hand and sat back in her chair, drawing one knee to her chest. She gazed at him levelly, her mouth curled in a slight smile.
“I’m taking her to my room,” Mike said, laying the bagged blood on Leandra’s belly. Then he slid his arms beneath her and lifted her in his arms. She felt lighter. Less there.
Leandra was fading away, and he’d been damned if he kept standing by her side in this sterile, lifeless room.
“She needs to be—”
“Whatever she needs, you can rig up in my room,” Mike said, cutting Brianna off. He said nothing else as he carried her from the sickroom.
Brianna tried to argue, but he just ignored her as he walked away.
Nothing they’d done so far was working.
It was time to try something else.
It was an hour before Brianna was satisfied with the setup in Mike’s room. She left with the words, “I’ll be back in a few hours to check on her.”
Mike arched a brow and said, “I can’t wait.”
The door closed behind him, and Mike sank down on the bed, stretching out beside Leandra. For the first time in far too long, he could feel her body pressed against his. She was cool—far too cool. Even vamps didn’t feel that cold. “It’s time to come back, Lee,” he murmured, nuzzling her cheek. He draped his arm across her belly, burying his face in her thick braids.
“Come back to me, and I’ll make love to you all day and night. I’ll take you back to Italy—you loved it there. I can tell just by how you talked about it. I’ll take you to Italy, to Ireland . . . anywhere you want to go. Just come back . . .”
There was no answer, no change. Rubbing his hand in slow circles on her belly, Mike continued to speak. On and on, until his voice grew hoarse and his eyes grew heavy. And still, he went on.
SHE WASN’T ALONE.
But it wasn’t the Hunter or Morgan.
It was Mike. She sighed out his name as he skimmed his hands down her sides.
And he was touching her. She could actually feel the heat and strength in his hands as he caressed her. His voice was a seductive, sexy whisper as he murmured against her ear, “Come back to me, and I’ll make love to you all day and night . . .”
“I’m right here,” Leandra whispered, arching into his hot, hard hands.
Mike was so damned warm and she always felt so cold anymore.
“Touch me,” she whispered, reaching out for him.
This time, she felt him. For once, she wasn’t lost in the fog.
Leandra was able to draw his long, hard body closer, and she clutched him to her with greed. His body was hot, full of tightly leashed power, and she needed him, needed to feel him inside her. Needed to feel life again.
“Make love to me.”
Mike groaned into her mouth, the sound low and deep. He pushed her thighs apart, and she arched up, wrapping her legs around his lean hips. As he surged inside her, Leandra’s eyes flew open and she felt alive.
She could feel again. His cock pulsed inside her, and she could smell the hot, ripe scent of his skin, feel his muscles moving under her hands. And the climax building inside her as he fucked her.
Alive . . .
But not alone.
She turned her head and found the women there. The Hunter and Morgan. The Hunter stared at Leandra with sad, gentle eyes. “It’s time to go back, Leandra. Staying here cannot help me.”
“You can’t just leave,” Morgan smirked, but she only had eyes for Mike. She was practically drooling as she stared at him, and Leandra snarled as she felt the bitch’s lust began to pulse in the air. “You’re practically dead. Just like us.”
Leandra dragged her eyes away from the women, focusing on the man above her. “Make them go away,” she pleaded, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer to her. “I just want you.”
“Then be with me,” Mike muttered, pressing his mouth to hers, his tongue pushing past the barrier of her lips. He kissed her deep and hard before he tore his mouth away and murmured in her ear, “Be with me—come back . . .”
Cold.
It bit into her bones, sucking the breath from her body.
And the light—too much, too bright. If it wasn’t so cold, Leandra would have sworn she was seeing the sun.
She heard a harsh, startled shout, felt hands cupping her face.
Mike—he was screaming out her name.
As she tried to reach for him, Leandra felt hard, cruel hands wrap around her arms, jerking her father away. “You can’t just go back,” Morgan growled. With breath-stealing strength, the witch tore Leandra away and threw her.
Leandra went flying through the air, flying, flying . . . voices rose. As she hurtled through the darkness, fog wrapped around her once more. She could hear them talking, but even Morgan and the Hunter’s voices were indistinct now, and she couldn’t hear Mike at all.
IT WAS JUST A DREAM. MIKE KNEW THE DIFFERENCE between reality and make-believe, but that wasn’t going to keep him from enjoying every last second. So what if it made things that much harder when he woke up?
But the dream wasn’t normal. Instead of just him and Leandra, there were two other women there. One of them was Morgan. Mike turned his head and snarled at her, growling, “Leave us the hell alone.”
“Never.” Morgan smiled as she said it, and she looked at him with dark, hungry eyes. The scent of her lust crowded the air. For the first time, being naked bothered him. He didn’t like the way her eyes felt on him.
“Get the hell away from us.”
“Don’t worry about Morgan, Michael. I’ll handle her.” Mike looked at the other woman. She stared at him with sad eyes, even though she smiled. “She’s coming back, Michael. Just give her some time.”
Underneath him, Leandra’s naked body bucked, stiffened, and Mike rolled away from her.
That was how he woke up.
THE HUNTER FELT IT.
For a few short moments, it had felt as though Leandra was going to pull free. Damn Morgan.
She could feel the little bitch watching her, and she looked up, meeting laughing green eyes with a flat, level stare.
“You lose,” Morgan purred, shaking her head. “This is still dreamland. I rule in dreamland.”
Cocking her head to the side, the Hunter said, “Not if you’re dead, you don’t.”
Morgan laughed, pushing a hand through her hair. “But we both know that you aren’t going to kill me, Agnes. For some reason, you can’t. Even though you claim that you want to die, you can’t actually finish it, can you? Coward. You’re weak, just like Leandra is.”
A sad smile crept across her face as Agnes studied Morgan. “Now, you see, that is where if you are wrong. I can end it.”
Power started to pulse through the air, and Agnes closed her eyes, breathing it in and relishing the way it sang through her system. She looked down at her hands, smooth, unlined—so strange to see her body look as it had in her youth. Especially after so many years of seeing wrinkles and lines of age.
Morgan looked a little less confident, but she forced a cocky grin. “Sure you can, you just won’t. That’s what makes you weak.” She reached out, trailing a hand through the air like she was caressing the power that pulsed around them. “All this power. And you never put it to good use.”
“Well, then, it’s time I did.” Closing her eyes, Agnes focused her power and let it fly. As Morgan crumpled under the sudden blow, Agnes felt the strength of the dream fabric weaken.
THE AIR CHANGED. IT NO LONGER FELT SO THICK, SO gripping, so heavy. Leandra sucked in a desperate breath of air as she pushed to her feet.
Mike—
Closing her eyes, she ignored the sounds of battle as she tried to find him again.
He whispered her name. Like a drowning woman, she launched herself toward the sound of his voice, toward the heat and strength that was Mike.
IT WAS THE FIRST TIME SHE’D SAID ANYTHING IN nearly three weeks. In a hoarse, raspy voice, she turned her face toward him and sobbed out, “Mike—where are you?”
Kneeling beside her, wearing the jeans he’d fallen asleep in, Mike stared down into her face. Cupping her face in his hands, Mike whispered, “I’m here, Leandra. Come on, come back.”
She struggled, her body stiffening and limbs jerking. Jerking so hard the IV pump stand started to rattle, and Mike had to catch her flailing limbs and pin her down before she ripped the needle from her body.
He couldn’t leave her, but he also couldn’t handle this.
Turning his head, he bellowed out Lori’s name.
Time moved quickly; logically he knew that, but it still seemed to drag out like an eternity. Hard hands pulled Mike away from Leandra’s struggling body, and Mike found himself trapped between Eli and Jonathan.
“Let them help her,” Jonathan said, his voice strained.
“Let me go!” Mike tried to tear away from them, but they held him too tight. “Damn it, you bastards!”
“Mike.” Eli’s voice was a low, commanding whisper that seemed to seep inside Mike’s soul, calming the raging beast of fear. “Be still now. Let Lori and Kelsey help her.”
Kelsey—yes, Kelsey was there now, too. So was Brianna—she moved in efficient silence around the witches as she disconnected the blood and bandaged the small wound left by the intravenous catheter. She checked blood pressure, checked her pulse before she moved away.
The witches knelt on the bed, one of either side of her, totally focused on Leandra.
Leandra was still convulsing. “Brianna, we can’t get her to quiet down. Call that damned doctor. We’re going to need to medicate her if this keeps up,” Lori said without looking away from Leandra.
Moments later, Brianna stepped away from Leandra, capping a needle. “It may not last long—narcotics don’t always work on vampires the same way they work on humans,” Brianna said.
Mike jerked once more on his arms as Leandra’s arching body slowly began to calm. “Let me go . . . please. I have . . . I have to be with her.”
Leandra’s lips parted and she moaned.
“Mike . . .”
The sound of his name in that hoarse, raspy voice had him struggling against Eli and Jonathan all over again. Rage began to take control of him, and he lost the ability to even speak, just growling wordless threats at his friends.
“Let him go, guys,” Kelsey said, her voice low and calm. “She’s looking for him.”
AS LEANDRA’S PRESENCE SLOWLY FADED AWAY, THE fabric of the dream realigned itself around Agnes and Morgan. “Godspeed, love,” Agnes murmured as she reeled from a powerful blow.
It was a strong one, but it was also wild and unfocused. Morgan was losing strength.
Agnes knew her own strength was waning, but she had enough to finish things.
“Bitch!”
Agnes smiled at Morgan, wiping blood and sweat from her eyes. “Not so confident now, are you?”
“I’ll get her back. You can’t last forever.”
Chuckling a little, Agnes murmured, “Not forever, no. But I’ve certainly lasted a bit longer than you will.”
Five hundred years—
She looked across the fogged world of the dream, staring into Morgan’s face. Time slowed down.
Memory flashed.
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