The mere idea made Brenna's heart skip a beat. Of course, it would mean some changes in her lifestyle. She would have to adjust her sleeping habits to his so that they could spend as much time as possible together, and after awhile she might get tired of eating all her meals alone. Maybe he would sit with her in the evening from time to time. But these were trivial matters.
Soon, she thought happily, soon she would be his wife.
Roshan woke with the sun's setting. His first breath carried Brenna's scent to his nostrils. His first thought was that before he slept again, she would be his, though in his mind, she was already his in every way that mattered. Mortal laws no longer had any sway over him, but the marriage was important to Brenna, and that made it important to him, as well.
Rising, he left his lair, eager to see his bride. He found her in the kitchen. She was standing at the stove, stirring something in a pot. He wrinkled his nose against the smell of corn and roasting chicken.
On silent feet, he moved up behind her. "Good evening, my love," he murmured, nuzzling her nape.
She leaned back against him, turning her head for his kiss.
"You've not changed your mind?" he asked.
"Never."
He drew her into his arms so he could kiss her more fully, his senses filling with her nearness. Tonight she would be his, always and forever his. From this night forward, he would share his life with a woman he loved. It was a heady thought, the fulfillment of a wish he had never acknowledged, a hope he had never expected to obtain.
Reluctantly, he released her. "I'll be back soon," he promised.
She nodded. She did not have to ask where he was going. She knew him well enough now that she could tell when he had fed and when he had not.
He kissed her again, quickly, and then he was gone.
Anthony Loken stood over the remains of his latest victim. Like the last four, this one no longer resembled anything remotely human. Hands clenched at his sides, Loken stared at what had been a healthy young man only a short time ago.
Damn! Filled with a growing sense of defeat, Loken paced the lab from one end to the other. He had tried infusing the vampire's blood into the human system in every possible way he could think of. None of them had been successful. Always, the subjects had shriveled and died, sometimes in minutes, sometimes in hours. How did vampires survive when their blood seemed to be toxic? He had tried mixing the vampire's blood with the blood of his subjects, he had tried diluting it with a variety of liquids, but to no avail. He had experimented with the temperature, making the blood warmer and then colder. The results had been the same. The subjects had shriveled and died, most of them screaming in an agony he could only imagine. He had increased the white blood cells. He had decreased the white blood cells. He had mixed the blood with holy water, thinking it might counteract the deadly effects of the vampire's blood. He had tried adding a small amount of salt. No matter what he had tried, the results were always the same.
He slammed his fist into the wall, a wordless cry of frustration and rage rising in his throat. He would not be defeated. He struck the wall again and yet again and then came to an abrupt halt, oblivious to the blood flowing from his knuckles. Frowning, he stared at the empty vials on the counter. Perhaps there had been something amiss in the blood of the vampire. Or perhaps he had been using the wrong subjects…
Of course! He was no mere mortal. He was a warlock of almost unequaled power. His mistake had been in experimenting on puny humans when what he needed was a witch.
Licking the blood from his knuckles, he turned off the lights and left the laboratory. Myra would know where he could find a witch. She would, in fact, have been his first choice had her powers not been greater than his own.
Yes, he thought, his confidence restored. All he needed was a witch and the secret of eternal life and good health would be his.
But before he went hunting a witch, he needed a vampire. And a supply of fresh blood.
* * *
CHAPTER 22
Because it was quick and easy, Roshan went looking for prey at the Nocturne. There were only a few people in the club this early in the evening. It made hunting dangerous, but then it was always dangerous to hunt when the prey wasn't alone, more so at this time of the night Better to seek prey when the hour was late and mortals were more susceptible to preternatural forces. But tonight he had no choice. He must be at his best when he stood at the altar beside Brenna. He wanted no trace of his hellish thirst lurking in his eyes, no hint that he was thinking of anything other than his bride.
Unbidden came the memory of the day he had wed Atiyana. How young they had both been, innocent and eager and a little afraid. He had never known a woman. She had been a maiden, untouched and untutored. Together, they had learned the ways of love, discovered the pleasures of the marriage bed, waited with joyful hearts for the birth of their first child… His sweet Atiyana, in heaven these many years. What would she think of him if she could see him as he was now?
A movement in the far corner caught his eye. Glancing sideways, Roshan saw Anthony Loken. He was dancing with a pretty girl wearing a pair of skintight black leather pants and a black midriff top. Her eyes were lined with kohl, she wore black lipstick. Her waist-length, silver blond hair stood out like a shining beacon in a sea of black tresses.
Loken threw back his head, laughing at something she said.
Moving toward the bar, Roshan asked the first single girl he came to if she would care to dance. Leading her onto the dance floor, he drew her into his arms. Careful to keep his back to Loken, he captured the girl's gaze with his. When she was pliant in his arms, he lowered his head, about to drink, when he overheard the voice of the blonde dancing with Loken.
"Why are you looking for a vampire?" she asked in a deliberately throaty voice.
"I'm fascinated by creatures of the night," Loken replied. "Their lifestyle, their longevity, their ability to heal themselves of all but the most fatal of injuries. I'm hoping to find a vampire who will bring me across."
"So, you're in search of the Dark Gift?"
He nodded. "Do you know someone who can bestow it on me?"
"I might."
"Might it be you?" Loken asked.
"No, but I've heard it rumored that a real vampire comes here now and then."
Roshan froze, the girl in his arms momentarily forgotten.
"Does he come here often?" There was no denying the excitement in Loken's voice. "Do you think he'll be here tonight?"
"I don't know. What's it worth to you if I can find out who it is?"
"Honey, if you can do that, you can name your own price."
Roshan swore under his breath. Had someone seen him feeding? Or was the blonde simply telling Loken what he wanted to hear? Damn!
Releasing the girl in his arms from his power, Roshan led her back to the bar, then left the club, his anger rising with his hunger. Damn Loken! The man turned up at the worst times.
He shook his head. He had always been careful when he hunted at the Nocturne. Nevertheless, he would have to find a new place to hunt.
With preternatural speed, he headed for the far side of town. He had little time to waste. Brenna was waiting for him.
It was almost eight o'clock when he returned home. He made a quick trip down to his lair for a change of clothes, then headed for the shower. He noted, in passing, that the bedroom door was closed. He could hear Brenna humming softly inside, felt his desire quicken as he imagined her slipping into the lacy underwear she had told him about.
Twenty minutes later he knocked softly on the bedroom door. "Brenna? Are you ready?"
The door opened and she stood there, a vision in white silk, her red hair like a cloud of silken fire beneath her veil.
She looked up at him, a half-smile playing over her lips as she waited for his reaction.
"Ah, my love," he murmured, "you're beautiful."
"Thank you."
Brenna's gaze moved over the man who would soon be her husb
and. He looked resplendent in a black tuxedo, so handsome it fairly took her breath away. Even if she hadn't known he was a vampire, she would have known he wasn't mortal. No mere man could exude such power, such inner strength. It was a potent combination.
Careful not to muss her hair or her veil, Roshan drew her into his arms and kissed her lightly on the cheek.
"Come," he said, smiling down at her. "We don't want to be late."
Moonlight rained down on the little church in the woods, giving it an otherworldly aura. Lights shone through the stained glass windows, shedding faint rainbow-colored streaks on the ground. Roshan paused at the entrance, his preternatural senses probing the surrounding shadows and the interior of the building before he opened the door and followed Brenna inside.
Father Giovanni Lanzoni was standing at one side of the altar. The priest was of medium height. He had wavy black hair laced with silver at the temple. His eyes were hazel.
A slender, dark-haired man stood beside the priest. Roshan knew immediately that the dark-haired man was a vampire.
A woman dressed in a deep purple gown and long white gloves sat in the first pew. She was not one of the undead, but supernatural power emanated from her. A witch, he thought, and wondered if his bride knew. The woman rose as Brenna drew near.
"My dear, how lovely you look!"
Brenna smiled. "Thank you. Myra, this is Roshan DeLongpre. Roshan, this is Myra Kavanaugh. She owns the bookstore I told you about."
Myra offered Roshan her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
"And I you," Roshan replied. Releasing her hand, he turned to the priest. "Good evening, Father."
The priest smiled at him. "It has been a long time."
"Too long. Thank you for coming on such short notice."
"As if I would miss an occasion like this one," Father Lanzoni said with an easy grin. "Roshan, this is Vincenzio Fonti. He will be your best man."
Roshan shook Fonti's hand. Power flowed between them. Roshan knew, without knowing how he knew, that Fonti was one of the ancient ones.
"Thank you for coming," Roshan said.
"I am happy to do it," Fonti replied.
Father Lanzoni glanced from Roshan to Brenna. "Are we expecting anyone else?"
"No." Roshan took Brenna's hand in his and gave it a squeeze. "Ready?"
Brenna nodded. It suddenly seemed unreal that she was here, in this church, about to be married to a vampire by a vampire priest. She glanced at Myra, who was staring at Roshan, then at Vincenzio Fonti, who was watching Myra. Brenna clenched her free hand, wondering if Myra suspected something. Did she think it odd that the ceremony was taking place at such a late hour and that neither she or Roshan had any family present? Brenna knew little of what weddings were like in this time and place. In her own village, a marriage had been cause for celebration, with everyone from the oldest patriarch to the newest babe in attendance.
Father Lanzoni took his place in front of the altar and Roshan and Brenna turned to face him. Myra stood at Brenna's left, Fonti at Roshan's right.
"My children," Father Lanzoni began, "we are gathered here this night to join Brenna Flanagan and Roshan DeLongpre in the bonds of holy wedlock, an institution ordained by God for the blessing of His children. There is no secret to a happy marriage," he said, glancing from Brenna to Roshan. "You have only to put your loved one first and yourself second, to treat your spouse as you would be treated, to remember how much you love one another on this day and on every day that follows for as long as God grants you breath.
"I will say the words that bind you together, but the true marriage between the two of you must take place here, in your hearts.
"Brenna, do you promise to love and cherish Roshan, here present, for as long as you shall live?"
Brenna looked at Roshan, her eyes glowing with love. "I do."
"Roshan, do you promise to love and cherish Brenna, here present, for as long as you both shall live?"
He gazed deeply into her eyes. "I do."
"Then, by the power vested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride."
With great tenderness, Roshan drew Brenna into his embrace. At that moment, he was acutely aware of how very fragile she was. As a mortal, she could easily fall prey to sickness; in a few short years, old age and death would come to steal her away.
"I will love you and no other for as long as you live." he murmured for her ears alone, and then he bent his head to claim his first kiss as her husband.
Heat flowed between them, not the heat of passion, but the gentle warmth of heart speaking to heart as they sealed their vows with a fervent kiss.
"Well done," Father Lanzoni said with a quiet smile. "Well done."
Roshan kissed Brenna one more time, then, taking hold of her hand as if he would never let go, he turned to face the priest.
"Thank you, Father."
"My pleasure, my son."
Fonti shook Roshan's hand. "Congratulations," he said solemnly. "I hope it works out for you."
"Thank you."
Fonti smiled at Brenna. "I wish you every happiness, Mrs. DeLongpre."
"Thank you for coming."
"A lovely ceremony, just lovely," Myra said, coming forward to give Brenna a hug.
"Thank you, and thanks again for being here."
"Oh, I wouldn't have missed it," Myra assured her. She sent a speculative look at Vincenzio Fonti, and then at Roshan. "No, indeed, I wouldn't have missed this for the world. I've arranged for a small reception at my store," she said, smiling at Brenna. "Nothing elaborate, just a small cake and some champagne. And no obligation, of course, if you've already made other plans."
"I am not sure what Roshan wants to do," Brenna replied, looking up at him.
"Whatever you want is fine with me." He looked at Father Lanzoni and Fonti.
"I am afraid I cannot stay," Father Lanzoni said.
"Nor I," Vincenzio said.
"I'm sorry to hear that," Myra said, and there was real regret in her tone. "But you'll come, won't you?" she said, glancing from Brenna to Roshan.
"Of course," Roshan said, "if that's what Brenna wishes."
"Maybe for just a little while," Brenna said.
"It's settled then," Myra said, beaming. "I'll just go open up the shop and see you there." She gave Brenna's hand a squeeze and hurried out of the church.
"There's something about that one," Fonti said. "She is not one of us, but she has powers. Could she be a witch?"
"A witch!" Brenna exclaimed. "Do you think so?"
Fonti nodded. "Her aura is similar to yours, though not so strong."
Brenna frowned. Was Myra a witch? If so, why hadn't she ever mentioned it? And then, realizing what Fonti had said, she looked at him askance. "You think my powers are stronger than hers?"
Fonti nodded again, then looked at Roshan, a hint of deviltry in his eyes. "Be careful of this one."
Roshan laughed softly. "I have felt her power on more than one occasion."
After saying their farewells, Roshan and Brenna left the church. Excitement thrummed through Brenna as she thought of what lay ahead. They would spend a short time with Myra and then they would go home. She could hardly wait to be in Roshan's arms again. It would not be like the last time, she thought, though that had been wonderful. But this time she would be his wife, with every right to be in his bed, in his arms.
"Wife," she murmured. "What a lovely word!"
Myra was waiting for them at the door when they arrived at the shop. "Come in," she said, stepping aside. "I hope you don't mind, but a few of the girls who work for me were closing up when I got back. They wanted to stay and wish you congratulations."
Brenna glanced at Roshan. "No, I do not mind."
Myra closed and locked the door and turned the sign so that it read "closed," then led them through the bookstore and into the coffee shop. Several women, none of whom Brenna recognized, were talking in low tones when they entered. A small wedding cake sat on a cloth-co
vered table, along with two bottles of champagne. The women all stopped talking when Brenna and Roshan followed Myra into the room.
"Well, here we are," said Myra. "Ladies, may I present Roshan and Brenna DeLongpre."
Brenna felt suddenly uneasy amid the greetings and good wishes. Something wasn't right. She looked up at Roshan, wondering if he sensed it, too.
There was a loud pop as Myra opened a bottle of champagne. She filled several crystal glasses and passed them around. The ones she handed to Brenna and Roshan had pretty pink bows tied around the delicate stems.
"A toast to the bride and groom," Myra said. "May all your dreams come true."
Brenna hesitated but then, seeing that the others were drinking, she sipped her champagne. The bubbles tickled her nose. She noticed that Roshan did not drink from his glass, but that was not surprising. What was surprising was that no one asked him why he wasn't drinking.
After the toast, Myra cut the cake and passed it around. Roshan refused with a smile, telling Myra that he was allergic to white flour.
Feeling suddenly unsteady, Brenna looked up at him.
She blinked, trying to bring his face into focus. The lights suddenly seemed brighter, the voices around her louder. She reached for Roshan, who seemed to be getting smaller and smaller and then, without warning, everything went black.
Roshan caught her before she hit the floor.
"Oh, my!" Myra exclaimed, one hand pressed to her heart. "I think she's fainted. Poor dear," Myra added sympathetically. "Probably too much excitement for one night."
Roshan stared at Brenna. Her face was pale, her skin overly hot. Her pulse was beating rapidly. He detected a strange, sickly sweet aroma on her breath. Had she been drugged?
Before he could question Myra, he sensed a ripple in the air, a stir of supernatural power. Too late, he realized someone had come up behind him. A hot burning sensation engulfed him as someone wrapped a thick silver chain around his neck and yanked it tight. Pain shot through him and he reeled backward.
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