The mark he'd left on her throat wouldn't fade that quickly, but he didn't tell her that. He wasn't sure he wanted to be around when she figured out he'd given her a hickey. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out some orange juice. It was strange. He'd never taken care of his victims afterward. He'd told her the truth. Most didn't notice they'd been bit. Those who did ended up dead.
He poured a glass of juice and carried it to her. She took it without a word. She was obviously still too fogged to fight him. She drank the juice and stared into space. The truth of it all would hit her soon.
The urge to comfort her crept up inside him until he found himself walking toward her. He stopped when he reached the couch. He couldn't do this. He couldn't let her mean anything. She was a means to an end. Unfortunately, he didn't know where this would end.
"I'll contact you later." He pulled on his coat and headed toward the door.
"Why didn't you kill me?"
He stopped at her quiet question. The easiest answer was to tell her nothing, let her worry. For some reason he didn't want that. He settled on the truth.
"Because I have a feeling someone wants me to do just that."
She blinked. "And you just feel like being contrary? That's the only reason I'm still alive?"
"I don't like being pushed into things. Especially when I don't know why or who's doing the pushing."
"Why me?"
Stephen shrugged. "I have no idea. I doubt it has anything to do with you. You just got caught in the middle."
"Danielle." Madeleine eased herself to standing, using the couch for support. "This started with Danielle, didn't it? She got mixed up in this and one of you…did you kill my cousin?"
"No."
"Who did?"
"I won't tell you that."
"Why the hell not? I have a right to know."
Stephen laughed without humor. "You don't have any rights in this, Madeleine. Your cousin is dead. Let it go."
"I can't. Someone has to be punished for it. Humans have a thing called justice."
"We have a different definition of justice in my world. Your cousin chose to join that world, and she lost playing by human rules. Don't make the same mistake."
"Aren't you afraid I'll tell the world about you?"
"No. You're bound to me now. You won't tell anyone anything I don't want you to."
If sarcasm could be expressed in a smile, that was what curled Madeleine's lips. "I hate to break it to you, but making out for a few minutes doesn't connect us for life."
"Yes, it does. You're marked as mine." He could see her tense up, preparing to fight him. "Look at me, Maddie." She struggled every inch, but slowly, unable to resist, she turned her eyes to him. "Come to me."
Her steps were slow and laborious. She was strong, but he was stronger. He moved to meet her when she came within reach. He bent his head and covered her mouth with his. She tasted so sweet. He relaxed the mental lock on her and was pleased that she didn't struggle. She sighed and relaxed into the kiss, accepting and returning each lingering caress. He cupped her head in his hands and ate at her mouth.
Yes, Maddie.
She jerked back as the words filled her mind. She pushed on his chest, and he released her.
"Stay away from me," she commanded.
"You don't want that." He leaned against the doorjamb. "Been dreaming about me, Madeleine?"
"You bastard. You're messing with my mind," she accused.
"Stay inside after dark." He ignored her comment and opened the door. "And don't invite anyone into your home until this is all over."
"Fine." She said the word so quietly he wasn't sure she'd been listening.
"I'm serious, Madeleine." He didn't know what would happen over the next few days. He didn't have time to worry about her. "A vampire has no power over you in your own home unless you invite him in. Don't invite anyone in."
"I heard you the first time. I'm not stupid."
"You invited me in."
She grimaced and finally looked up at him. "Good point." She wrapped her arms around her stomach. "How will I know when it's over?" she asked, stopping his departure.
"Pardon me?"
"You said I shouldn't invite anyone into my home until this is over. How will I know?" She looked at him. He waited. He heard the skip of her heart and saw the understanding creep into her eyes. "You're going to kill me when it's over."
He had no other answer to give her. "Good night, Madeleine."
Chapter Six
Madeleine stared at the mismatched pile of books, movies, and implements. Three different store clerks in three different locations now thought she was nuts. From the video store where the manager followed her around after her ill-fated attempts to say "vampire movies" to the supply warehouse where she asked for garden stakes sturdy enough to go through someone's chest, she was pretty sure she wasn't welcome anymore.
And it was all Stephen's fault. Frustration was fast becoming a familiar emotion. Whatever he'd done to her, however he'd done it, he'd managed to lock the word "vampire" into her throat. She could think it, mentally scream it, but she couldn't say it. She couldn't even write it down—her hand wouldn't shape the letters. Nothing worked. Her own mind defeated her.
But she wasn't letting it stop her. She finally had it all—garlic, wooden stakes, holy water, a cross, and a bad attitude. Now, she just needed a little time to prepare before—
"I'm going to think you don't want me around."
Madeleine yelped and spun around to face the amused man behind her. Her breath forced itself out of her lungs, and she glared up at Stephen. "How did you get in here?"
"You invited me." His whispered reply sent the memory through her body.
"No, how did you get in here tonight?"
"Surely you didn't think a few locks would keep me out?"
"What would?"
"Nothing."
He said it with such definitiveness. And she knew it was true. He was in her home, in her life, for as long as he chose.
The thought probably should have terrified her, but she'd spent the last twenty-four hours contemplating the strange reality that had become her life. The knowledge that she was going to die, and that it would be soon, had settled into her brain—blocking all attempts to panic the way any reasonable person would have. She knew how, she knew why. The only question left to answer was when.
"So, is this it? Have you come to kill me?" Madeleine asked.
The flash of surprise in his eyes inspired a tiny flicker of triumph. He expected the world to tremble before him, and she didn't doubt that it did so on a regular basis.
"No. I've come to talk to you. You obviously had other plans." He reached past her and picked up a garden stake and the mallet. "Going to use this on me, Maddie?" He offered them to her. "It takes a certain kind of person to kill another. Even when you know he's a monster."
Moving mechanically, she took the wooden stake from his hand.
"Just take it, hold it against my chest, and drive it into my heart."
She couldn't pull her eyes from the stake. Could she do it? Could she actually hurt him? Kill him? She lifted the stake—it shook in her hand—and tried to move forward, tried to point it at his heart.
She took a deep breath and looked up. Stephen watched her, no emotion showing on his face, none glowing in those haunting blue eyes. There was no dare, no prodding. He seemed completely willing to stand there while she killed him.
She tossed the stake onto the couch.
"Maybe later."
A sad smile curved his lips. "Yes, maybe later."
Madeleine ignored the shiver that moved down her spine.
"What about the rest of this stuff? Does it work?"
"Holy water? No. Garlic. Sort of. It's a physical allergy, but it would require you chasing me around with a peeled garlic clove. I doubt even you're that desperate."
She saw amusement sparkle in his eyes and felt her chest tighten. Dark and dangerous—he was stunning. When the darkness fad
ed from his eyes and he smiled, he was irresistible.
She straightened her spine, drawing her energy tight into her body and crushing all erotic thoughts. The man is planning to kill you. You simply cannot be attracted to him.
Physically, there was little she could do. That black hair and those blue eyes matched her description of physical perfection. There was no way she could get around the attraction. Or she hadn't found one yet. But physical was just physical, and she didn't have to act on it.
"So, what did you want? I have a lot to do tonight."
He scanned her vampire repellents again. "Yes, I can see that you do." Shoving his hands into his pockets, he strolled across the room. Though he looked around, she had a feeling he wasn't seeing the faded walls and orange carpet. "What brought you to my house that first night?"
"I was looking for Danielle."
"How did you find my address? What did Danielle tell you?"
She propped her rear end on the back of the couch, folded her arms over her chest, and tracked him as he walked to the window.
"Why do you want to know? What exactly happened to Danielle?"
"I'm not going to tell you that."
"Then I'm not going to tell you anymore, either."
"Madeleine…" He infused her name with warning, but Madeleine ignored it. What could he threaten her with? He'd already told her she was going to die. What was a little fright before death?
"No." She shrugged. "If you want answers, you'll have to do some talking yourself."
She watched Stephen suck in his cheeks as if he was trying to stop another smile. She had the distinct impression no one had defied him in a long time.
"Fine. But I won't answer questions about Danielle."
"But—"
His upraised hand stopped her protest. "I could force you to answer my questions, you know." Madeleine tensed. She hadn't forgotten the strange compulsion to come when he called her last night. It was horrible, that loss of control. And the threat was enough to make her agree.
"Fine. I found Dylan's name in Danielle's address book."
"Dylan. Did Danielle ever mention—"
Madeleine shook her head. She wasn't going to be left out. It wasn't an interrogation.
"What can kill you?" Stephen cocked an eyebrow in question, and she said, "You want information, so do I." She struggled to feel as bold as she sounded. She was shaking inside but she'd never let him see it.
"Sunlight." He nodded toward the garden tools. "Stakes. What did Danielle say about Dylan or me?"
"Nothing. She didn't want to talk about you guys."
Now I know why. Madeleine chewed the edge of her lip. What would have drawn Danielle in? Madeleine looked over at Stephen. Besides the obvious. Danielle had liked her men strong, powerful. Those were the words Madeleine had used to describe Stephen. The same things that Danielle would have found attractive. Stephen had said he didn't know Danielle, though Madeleine no longer believed that. How well had he known her?
But he wouldn't talk about Danielle.
"How old are you?"
"I was eighteen when I was converted." She waited. He knew that wasn't the information she wanted. "I was converted over two hundred years ago."
Two hundred years? She squinted, trying to see some sign of it on his face. He looked young but he didn't look eighteen—there was too much maturity in his face. The age in his eyes warned he was older than he appeared. But two hundred years? She'd been lusting after a two-hundred-year-old man?
An arrogant light flickered in his eyes as if he could read her thoughts. While she watched, he lowered his gaze to the base of her neck. The tip of his tongue made a long slow trail across the inside edge of his lips. The center of her stomach fell away, leaving a desperate ache. The force of it weakened her legs, and she clutched the back of the couch to keep from tipping over.
She drew in a sharp breath and struggled against the pulsing pleasure that seemed to radiate from the mark on her neck and slide through her body to the warm place between her legs.
"Whatever you're doing, stop it."
"Just wanted to remind you who you're dealing with."
"I'm not likely to forget."
But she was lying. It would be easy, way too easy, to forget who and what he was.
He carried himself with an innate style and charm that was difficult to ignore and harder to resist. The erotic dreams she'd lived with for the past week hadn't helped. She had no idea who was real—if the Stephen in her dreams was reality or some fantasy made up by her own mind to satisfy her lust.
With him in front of her, the slide into fantasy was simple, and the memory of the hard press of his mouth on hers was too close to ignore. She licked her lips, tasting him as if only moments instead of a day had passed since they'd touched. Her eyelids fluttered, and she realized she'd let her eyes drift closed. She snapped them open. It was too much to hope Stephen wasn't watching.
Before she could move, he was in front of her, and the feel of his mouth on hers was no fantasy. She sighed as his tongue slipped between her lips. It was soft and gentle and filled with his heady male taste. Time faded as she wrapped her arms around his neck and reveled in his leisurely exploration of her mouth. It was so sweet. The long curl of his tongue wrapped around hers, heating the core of her body. She stepped closer, needing the feel of him, wanting to be filled and surrounded. She brushed against the hard line of his erection. And captured his groan in her mouth.
Then he was gone. He stepped back and placed Madeleine away from him.
"I'll be going now."
She nodded. She couldn't speak. If she did, heavens knew what she would ask for. More. She'd beg for more.
She steeled her spine and watched him walk toward her door.
"Why did you become a vampire?" she blurted out as his hand touched the doorknob. He stopped and looked over his shoulder. A furious blaze ignited in his eyes then was quickly extinguished. The muscles in his jaw tightened and for a brief moment, Madeleine was sorry she'd asked. She forced herself to press on. This was important. Knowledge is power, and she needed power right now. "Why did you choose to become—how did you describe it—the kind of creature that would desire life so much that he would sacrifice his humanity for it?"
"I didn't."
The sharp answer stunned Madeleine into silence. He hadn't chosen to be a vampire? Her heart leapt with compassion. Images of a tormented existence quickly flooded her mind.
Stephen's mocking voice intruded. "Don't let your sympathy overwhelm you, my dear. I didn't choose this life, but the fact is, I'm a very good vampire."
He seemed to know what she wanted to ask but didn't dare—what makes a good vampire?
"You have to be willing to do anything to survive, anything to protect the Community."
Even kill. He didn't say the words. He didn't need to.
"Good night, Madeleine." With those simple words, he sent a line of fear through her body. He'd said "good night" but she knew he meant—I'll be back.
Her hand gripped the edge of the couch as the door snapped shut behind him. She looked down. The stakes lay scattered across the tacky cushions.
Do anything to survive.
She could do it. For a short while, she would think like a good vampire.
***
Stephen stopped in the hallway. If his heart could have raced, it would have been matching the beats of Madeleine's. Damn. What was that about!
He'd come by tonight to find out what she knew, to determine how and why she'd come into his life—was it truly chance or some exotic vampire plot? The coincidence of timing was too much to ignore, but if she knew anything beyond what she'd told him, she hid it well.
He shook his head. No, she wouldn't have been able to hide it. Her body reacted to every question with subtle changes his hypersensitive hearing picked up. She hadn't lied to him. He'd have felt it. He came searching for information, but in the end, he'd revealed too much. She went to his head—her defiance, her poorly disg
uised fear. It would do neither of them any good for him to get attached. The end result would be the same. He would do what needed to be done. And that meant killing Madeleine. He'd told her the truth. He was a good vampire.
So, why did you leave her alive once again? He ignored his own question as he exited her building, not wanting to look too closely at his motives.
Stephen crossed the street to where Nicholas huddled in his favorite corner. The fledgling glared at him as rain dripped off the overhang. Nicholas hadn't forgiven Stephen for what he knew was going to happen to Madeleine, but the young man had agreed to stand guard over her.
"Miserable night, isn't it?" the fledgling asked. His shoulders shook with cold and damp.
Stephen nodded. "Anything interesting?"
"A couple of guys stopped and stared at her window. I think they were just looking." Like you. Nicholas didn't say it, but Stephen heard it behind the words. He indicated a shadow on the opposite side of the street. "I thought I saw something move over there, but then…nothing."
Stephen stared, trying to penetrate the darkness but nothing moved. "Leave me a message." He started to walk away and turned back. "And be careful."
The human sentiment seemed to startle Nicholas almost as much as it did Stephen. The fledgling's eyes widened for a second, and then he nodded. "Uh—okay."
Stephen left him huddled in the rain. Nicholas needed to be careful. No, he needed to complete his conversion. Until he did, he was a risk to the Community and to himself. If others found out about him—realized what he was—they'd stake him just for safety's sake. His state of half-conversion gave him the strength of a vampire but none of the weaknesses. The Community would never allow that.
Nicholas was fighting his final conversion, struggling against it with a strength that didn't seem human. Stephen grudgingly acknowledged the admiration he felt for the young man. He knew from experience the dangerous hell Nicholas was in. He wanted him free of it. And there was only one way for that to happen.
Stephen let his thoughts wander as he walked through the town. He could have driven one of his many cars but decided a rainy night was an appropriate atmosphere for a restless vampire. He considered going to Death's Door. Matthias would probably be there. He could burn off his excess energy fighting with him. He smiled. Gayle wouldn't approve.
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