Immortal Prey

by Diana Ballew

  My stomach twisted, and bile slowly rose in my throat as the noise gave way to obvious sounds of lovemaking.

  My hands turned to clenched fists. I stepped backwards and sat on the bed. Mere inches separated me from the two lovers behind the thin wall. I froze, listening to their jagged breaths and moans of desire. I closed my eyes, hearing her hastened breathing as visions of Ersule lying beneath me years ago imprinted upon my eyelids.

  Willing my fists to open, I placed my hand against the wall. I could smell Ersule’s freshly washed hair smelling of sweet rose, could feel her soft flesh under my once callused hands, could hear her soft whimpers of desire as I plunged her sweet depths.

  I opened my eyes. Staying in this room any longer would only lead me to madness.

  With my heart so heavy I could barely move my feet, I left the hotel to find solace among my kind at The Blue Moon Lounge.

  The following day, I inquired about the professor. Evidently, while the handsome young professor was bedding my beloved, he was married with three young children in tow. My anger swelled into blinding rage. And for the first time in more than three hundred years, I gazed at the darkening sky above, impatient, vengeful, and eager for the kill.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Everett, Washington

  Erin tromped up Grand Avenue and stood outside Derek’s house in the cold, pouring rain. Knees shaking, teeth clicking, she wondered whether the man would even be home this time of day.

  She walked up the steps and knocked on the door. After what felt like an eternity, the large door opened.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Richland.” Mrs. Schauss’s penetrating gaze assessed her from head to toe. “May I help you?”

  “I’m here to see Mr. Rudliff.”

  The servant’s dramatically arched brows knitted together. “I see.” She fingered the cameo pinned at her throat. “And do you have an appointment?”

  “Um, no, I’m sorry I don’t. May I please come in to warm up? I’m terribly cold and wet and —”

  The sound of a door slamming shut from inside the house echoed across the tall ceiling.

  The servant flinched. “Master Rudliff is terribly busy. Perhaps you can return —”

  “Mrs. Schauss,” said a firm voice. “Show Miss Richland to the parlor, now.”

  The servant nodded and gestured for Erin to enter. After the elder woman hung the drenched coat, she cast her gaze to the floor and whispered, “Follow me.”

  Erin followed her into the enormous parlor.

  “Wait here, Miss Richland,” she said, turning quickly to leave.

  Erin stepped forward. “Excuse me, Mrs. Schauss. May I have a towel to dry my hair?”

  Derek entered the room. Upon seeing Erin, he turned toward his servant, his gaze seething. “Get Miss Richland a towel and some warm tea immediately.”

  Mrs. Schauss turned on her toes and fled, clearly avoiding further reproach.

  Derek rushed toward Erin and draped his arm across her shoulders. “My God, you’re soaked.” He searched her eyes.

  Erin turned from his piercing gaze and stiffened her back. “I … need to talk to you, Mr. Rudliff. It cannot wait.”

  Frowning, he stepped back and thrust his hands into his trouser pockets. “Mr. Rudliff, is it? I take it this must be a business visit.”

  Mrs. Schauss entered wearing her familiar scowl and handed Erin a towel before darting from the room.

  “Thank you,” Erin called to the fleeing woman dressed in dreary black. She dabbed the length of her fallen hair hanging in long wet ropes to her waist.

  Derek tilted his chin. “What’s happened? Are you all right?”

  She sighed heavily and flopped on the divan, undaunted by her wet skirt soaking through the silken sofa fabric. She hung her head. “I wasn’t sure where I should go.”

  Derek slipped in by her side. “Look at me,” he whispered, tipping her chin up to meet his gaze.

  Drawn in by his calming voice and the bottomless blue eyes gazing into hers, she couldn’t look away.

  “You’ve come to the right place,” he said. “You’re always welcome here.” He moved to slip his arm around her.

  What had she come here for again? Questions. Yes, questions.

  She ripped her gaze from the mesmerizing stare threatening her resolve. “I have to speak with you. I must ask you some important questions.”

  His eyebrows jumped. “Now? Look at you. You’re absolutely drenched. I insist you allow me to have Mrs. Schauss get you some dry clothes first, and I won’t hear another word until then, deal?”

  Derek was right. Miserably cold and wet, her teeth clicked like castanets. “Deal.”

  He ran his hands through his hair and sighed. “Besides, I have some urgent business I must finish up in the library. Mrs. Schauss will help you until I return.”

  The servant led her down the long hallway. As they passed the corridor of rooms, Erin could hear Derek in the library speaking in hushed, agitated tones. She tried to make out the conversation, but the only word she heard besides cursing was “trouble.”

  Mrs. Schauss escorted her into a room at the rear of the house. “Inside the armoire is an assortment of clothing. I’ll bring you hot tea or cocoa. Which do you prefer?”

  Erin pondered the choice. “Tea sounds good.”

  “Tea, it is,” the woman said, pausing in the doorway. Finally, she exited with a sigh and shut the door behind her.

  Something about the older woman sent a quiver racing up Erin’s backbone. Shivering, she glanced around the well-appointed bedroom. A scrolled, four-poster bed stood at the center of the room, draped with an elegant cream-colored lace canopy top. Tall leaded windowpanes filled the rear wall, allowing a dramatic view of the gleaming bay below. She opened the armoire and dressed in a white chenille robe. Within minutes, Mrs. Schauss returned with the hot tea.

  Erin sipped the steamy liquid, the tea gliding down her throat, instantly warming her belly. Footsteps sounded along the long hallway.

  “This is all I will do for you. Nothing more,” hissed Derek.

  Erin cocked her head, listening closely to what sounded like the shuffling of papers.

  “Oh, you shall do more,” said a female voice, “a lot more. Goodbye.”

  Erin raided the armoire. Instantly, she was drawn to the lovely lavender dress hanging inside. Matching satin slippers sat on the shelf below. After dressing and finishing her tea, she ventured into the parlor where Derek sat reading the Everett Messenger.

  “These murders around here are horrific,” he said, glancing at her over the paper. His eyes widened, and she heard the breath catch inside his throat. He lowered the newspaper and stood. “My Lord. You look lovely.”

  She tilted her chin high, ignoring his lengthy appraisal. “Yes, the murders are horrible. It’s been difficult writing about them and talking with frightened citizens. I’ve even had nightmares about the incidents.”

  Derek nodded. “I can imagine.” His eyebrows rose. “I must say, I certainly like these stories you’ve been writing on the women’s vote. You must be pleased.” He patted the divan. “Come, let’s sit.”

  Seeing him standing there, beckoning her, looking devilishly handsome, warmed her chilled body straight to the core. She sat, allowing ample space between them. He instantly inched closer and set down the newspaper.

  “Talk to me,” he said, in a voice as smooth as warmed honey. “Why did you walk all the way here in the pouring rain?”

  She gazed into his expressive eyes. Everything that had been churning away inside her came flowing out as though her mouth had a mind all its own. “I had an argument with my father and Frederick. I had to get out of there, Derek, and the only place I thought about going was here … to you.

  “Shhh.” He pulled her against his chest. “Calm yourself, now.”

  The steady rhythm of his pounding heart hummed a tune against her ear, and that invisible energy she’d felt with him before passed between them yet again. Steady. Strong. Sed
uctive.

  “How’s your head?”

  Had he just asked her a question? “What?”

  “The bump on your head? You haven’t forgotten —”

  “Oh, that.” She rubbed the lump at the back of her skull. “No, it’s fine now. It gave me a terrible headache, but that’s all.”

  She shook her head in an attempt to gather her wits. Why did the man have such an effect on her, a way of making her forget why she came to see him in the first place?

  She pulled from his embrace. “Derek, wait. I feel so distracted. I really must speak with you about an urgent matter.”

  His gaze narrowed. “I can see you’re upset. I’ll answer your questions, but first I want you to inform your father you’ll return home in a few hours. You don’t want to alarm him, do you?”

  “I don’t care what he wants — or Frederick — for that matter,” she said. “I’m so sick of the two of them, I could spit.” She shot up. “I can’t stand it anymore, and I’m not going back today. I may never return, and you can’t make me —”

  He darted up and pulled her into an embrace. “Surely, you know how much I would love for you to stay with me here. But you’ll hate me for it later,” he whispered, smoothing her damp hair with warm hands. “I won’t sit back and watch your reputation shattered. I insist you allow me to get you a hotel room —”

  “No. No hotel.” She pulled away from his arms and stared evenly into his eyes. “Please, Derek.”

  He searched her eyes and sighed. “All right, no hotel, but I absolutely insist you inform your father that you’re safe.”

  She bit down on her bottom lip. “Yes, you’re right.” The walls of the room moved in slow waves. She smoothed the lavender dress and sat on the divan. The long walk to his house, icy-cold fingers of rain raking across her face, the warmth of the hot tea — had she ever been this exhausted?

  He slipped in next to her and said, “Now, tell me you didn’t traipse here in the pouring rain just to interview me for the paper.”

  His deep voice lulled her weary mind, reminiscent of a sweet dream from long ago. She cleared her throat, determined to speak with him before exhaustion destroyed her nerve. “No, not an interview. I have much more personal questions I must ask.”

  He cocked his head. “Really? Perhaps that too can wait until later, after you inform your father —”

  “No.” she glared at him, trying to keep calm and composed as she rose from the divan and took a seat in the chair opposite him. “Now.”

  A single brow arched. He sat back and rested splayed hands on his thighs. “This must be serious.”

  “I … ” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “Do you agree there is something between us? I must know, or I have no right to demand answers to the questions I have come to ask.”

  His eyes narrowed, darkening to indigo slits. “Do you really need to ask me that?”

  Her heart skipped a beat, then resumed with a heavy thud against her breasts.

  Derek leaned forward, his eyes following her every move.

  She blushed at the intensity of the heated gaze aimed at the snug bodice of the dress. She angled her chin. “Yes, well, I have heard rumors about you.”

  He snorted. “I take it you mean the rumors originating from your so called ‘friend,’ Frederick Dimsdale — am I correct?”

  She frowned. “Do you know him?”

  He shot up from the couch. “The man has been following me all over the city for days and asking questions. I must say, I don’t think he cares much for me, and the feeling is most certainly mutual.” He paced the room.

  “He’s told me there is more to your involvement with Madame Delacour,” she said. “Much more.”

  Derek turned, his gaze narrowing. “Pray tell, Erin, what else has he told you?”

  Feeling as though she could wilt from the heated eyes staring her down, she yanked her gaze from his and said, “Well, he told me that she is, well, that she is a madam of a bawdy house, and that you own the building in which she conducts her sordid business.” There, she’d said it. She looked up.

  The small lines around Derek’s eyes deepened, and the muscles in his jaw pulsated. “I won’t lie to you about this, Erin. You mean too much to me.”

  Erin rose and joined him at the window. “You say you care for me. Please, tell me, Derek. What is it between you and Madame Delacour? I must know.”

  Silence filled the room as he gazed out into the distance. Finally, he lowered his head and whispered, “Honestly, I don’t even know where to begin.”

  The gloomy light of outdoors bathed his face with gray, making him look a decade older. A stabbing pain pierced her ribs. She moved in, wedging herself between him and the window. “What is it? Talk to me.”

  He raked his hands through his hair and sighed heavily. “The vile woman is blackmailing me.”

  She gasped. “Blackmailing you? With what?”

  Slowly, he met her gaze. “Yes, she’s a parlor madam. I’ve known the woman for ages, Erin, and I’ve hated her for many, many years. Now she’s threatened me.”

  She frowned and shook her head. “But I don’t understand. Don’t stop, Derek. Tell me — I wish to know more.”

  There was something about Regine Delacour she had not trusted from the very first moment she’d laid eyes on the lovely red-head. Having a worthy reason to despise the French Madame excited her in a perverse and most unchristian manner.

  Derek pulled her into his arms. “My lovely Erin. God, how I want you … and only you. You must believe me.”

  The heated touch of his hands sliding along the small of her back comforted her. But she had come for answers. She stiffened in his arms. “Tell me, Derek.”

  He smoothed her hair; lean, gentle fingers combing damp tangles as he spoke. “She has a son.” He sighed heavily. “A bastard child from a night that never should have happened.”

  Her throat turned bone dry. She swallowed hard and gazed up. “Are you telling me what I think you’re telling me?”

  “I wish I could say the child is not mine.” He lowered his head. “God, how I had hoped he was not mine.”

  She frowned and slid from his embrace. “Illegitimate children are born all the time. Everyone knows these things can, and do, happen. What is she blackmailing you with?”

  His gaze snapped to hers. “You name it. My business … and you.”

  “Me? Why? What does she know about me?”

  “I’ve told her absolutely nothing about us, Erin. But she knows how I feel about you.” He turned away, his hands clenched in tight fists. “The woman is a witch, I tell you, and when she threatened to go to you and explain —”

  Erin grabbed his arm. “Let me get this straight. You set that vile woman up in her disgusting business because of me?”

  He eyed her firm grasp upon his arm. “I … I didn’t know.” He moved from her clutches and slowly paced the room. “It’s complicated. I wasn’t thinking clearly. Hell, she told me she wished to open a French bakery. Stupidly, I believed her. I needed a tenant anyway. I had no idea she would be up to her old tricks again. While I was out of town, she set up a saloon with a parlor above.”

  Erin sighed dramatically, her mind racing in all directions.

  “I wanted to throw her out, but she threatened me. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.”

  Erin moved in and planted her feet in front of him. “Look at me.”

  He lowered his gaze to meet hers. “What?”

  “You do realize it was in your building where the mauling and murder occurred?”

  He closed his eyes and slowly shook his head. “I know. God help me, I do, and I hope they catch the evil person responsible for the wicked crime.”

  Erin’s heart cleaved into a million pieces as she listened to Derek, his voice wracked with pain, clearly tortured by secrets threatening to unravel his life and their new relationship. He cared so deeply for her that he would have allowed Regine Delacour anything she desired just to keep
her quiet. And as she watched him now, wounded, suffering, spilling his secrets, her true feelings for him became clearer.

  She was falling in love with Derek Rudliff.

  Derek reached for her, his bottomless gaze searching her moist eyes. “I’m so sorry if I’ve caused you pain. You see, your friend Frederick was right to a certain degree, but I assure you, he doesn’t have all the facts.” He cupped her chin in his palm. “Now you see how much I care for you. Please tell me you feel the same way. I need to know.”

  Her heart thumped wildly against her chest. Dare she tell him how she thought of him by day and dreamed of his touch at night? How her body responded so naturally to his, it was as though it were part of her own?

  As if he’d read her mind, he drew her to his chest and kissed her.

  She slid from his lips and whispered against his cheek, “And who is Ersule?”

  His breath caught in his throat. “I’m … I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to call you by the name of my deceased wife. It was merely instinct. I —”

  “No.” she placed her finger to his lips. “Don’t speak of it.”

  What a little fool. Of course it was his deceased wife, and she had suspected as much. She should have simply disregarded the innocent mistake, when in a moment of panic, he had called out his wife’s name. But part of her had wanted to hurt him, make him share the ache ripping through her heart now.

  Humiliated, she lowered her gaze. “Perhaps it is I who should apologize.”

  “You’re still chilled, my dear,” he whispered against her flushed cheek. “Would you like a lovely bath in the tub?”

  His warm breath caressed her earlobe, and she instantly felt powerless against his seductive suggestion. “A hot bath sounds divine.”

  “I’ll fill it myself.” He kissed her passionately, his body melding against hers, teasing her with the promise of more. “I’ll meet you in the bathroom in twenty minutes.”

  Erin listened to the ticking clock in the bedroom counting down the twenty minutes. She slipped out of the dress. Wearing only the chenille bathrobe, she stepped out the door and padded down the hall.