She stared at the empty pillow next to her. There was no indention where his head had lain. She was alone. He'd held her after they'd made love, touching her, whispering words in her ears and in her mind, words of passion and desire.
Never once mentioning love. Her heart cried at the bittersweet memory.
What did you expect? He'd declare his undying love? All the pulse points in her body wailed in assent. No, dammit, this can't be happening. I cannot be falling in love with him.
I can't.
Even as she mentally repeated the words, she knew they were a lie.
And knowing his touch, not just in dreams, would haunt her forever, a new memory to add to the bright light of the smile she saw in his eyes.
She tipped over on her back and looked up at the ceiling, letting the emotions wash over her. Fear and terror led the way.
She couldn't face him, couldn't see him. It was too new, too raw. He'd see it. Stephen, who could almost read her mind, would easily be able to look into her eyes and realize his little human was falling in love with him. She had to get out.
She threw off the sheet and climbed out of bed. Her body ached, but it was a satisfied, delicious feeling that only served to remind her of what she'd done. It would be so much easier if she could blame Stephen, but she couldn't. She could have stopped him. Hell, she encouraged him, teased him.
Damn it, I seduced him. She covered her eyes with her hands. It didn't help. She couldn't hide from the truth. He'd tried to back away and she hadn't let him.
He hadn't needed much encouragement, she admitted, but still, it had been her. What was she going to say to him now?
Her clothes had been tossed onto a chair. She pulled on her skirt. This is one of the many reasons why I don't have casual sex. I never know what to say when it's over.
She looked at the bed and stopped. Nothing about that had been casual. The warmth of the memory started in the center of her body and began to melt the resolve she'd been building.
Practical. Be practical. She took a deep breath. She would finish getting dressed, go home. And quietly panic.
She reached up to tidy her hair and looked into the mirror. Only there was no mirror. She scanned the walls. No mirror on the wall or the wood dresser.
"What kind of person doesn't have a mirror in his bedroom?" she muttered.
"One that doesn't cast a reflection."
Madeleine spun around at the sound of his voice. He filled the doorway, crowding the room with his presence. His shirt was open at the collar, a thin line of pale flesh visible in the light. She remembered tasting him there—and other places. A flush warmed her cheeks.
"How do you feel?"
"Fine."
"No dizziness?" He brushed his fingertips across her forehead, sweeping away the messy strands. She jerked away from his touch. Her body screamed in protest, wanting to be with him, near him, but she couldn't do it. She was too open to be near him. She took a step back and bumped into the dresser.
"I'm fine." She stared at the carpet, not wanting him to see the bare emotion in her eyes.
"Maddie, look at me."
His voice was rough, but she felt no mental compulsion to comply.
She shook her head. She wasn't up to a battle with him. "Please. I'd just like to go home."
He waited, and for a moment she thought he was going to say something else, but he just turned away.
"Come down when you're ready." His clipped reply made her wince.
When he was gone, she released the breath she'd been holding. Tears threatened, but she blinked them back. She didn't have the energy. She needed all her strength to keep the panic at bay.
Not only had she slept with a vampire—one she was probably falling in love with—it was very possible he was involved in her cousin's death. Oh God, what was she going to do now?
She opened the top drawer of his dresser, the practicality of looking for a comb or brush to untangle her hair easing her hurried mind. She shuffled through the bits of paper and notes that cluttered the drawer. Nothing useful. Then a flash caught her eye. A silver knife lay nestled in the edge of the drawer. The smooth blade was etched with swirls and circles. Silver. It actually works. Nick's words came back to her. Knowing it was too late to protect herself from Stephen—as he'd already entered her heart—she stared at the knife. Protection.
Without allowing herself to consider what she was doing, she pulled the knife from the drawer and slipped it up her sleeve, cupping the hilt in her palm.
Staring at the empty doorway, she took a deep breath and released it slowly. Just hold it together for a little while longer. Her legs shook as she walked down the stairs and waited at the bottom.
Stephen sat in the high-backed chair, one ankle crossed on the other knee. He stared down at a book resting on his calf. Without looking up, he spoke in a voice that reeked of boredom.
"Nicholas will take you home."
"I can get a cab."
"He feels the need to protect you."
She fingered the knife in her palm. "From who?"
"Tonight?" Stephen raised his eyes and impaled her with his glare. "Me."
A flash of pain, quickly crushed, flew into her mind. She tensed. It was foreign, as if she was receiving it from an outside source. Seconds later, the sharp pain was gone and a dull ache lingered.
Stephen dropped his gaze to the page in front of him, ignoring her. Madeleine walked down the short hallway where Nick waited. Stephen's voice reached her as they opened the door. "Good night, Maddie."
She stepped onto the porch and heard a quiet thump against the inside wall. It sounded suspiciously like a book being thrown across the room.
***
Stephen listened as his front door snapped shut. His hand shot out, flinging the book toward the far wall.
She'd walked out on him.
He stared at the empty space in front of him, his eyes blank. Emotions he'd eliminated years ago surged through his body. Human emotions. He snarled. He didn't want this.
Pain, frustration, and need battled inside him. He's spent two hundred years getting rid of these feelings—now they were back.
He propelled himself from the chair and followed Nicholas and Madeleine to the door.
Madeleine's arms were wrapped around her stomach, her shoulders hunched as if she was cold. He longed to be the one to warm her. He released the crushing grip he had on the door frame. She didn't want his warmth, his touch.
But that didn't mean he could leave her alone. It wasn't safe. Nicholas would be no protection. As they drove off, Stephen followed unseen.
Nicholas was only a fledgling, but he was smart. He scanned the streets as he drove and acted as a shield as he walked her inside. Stephen hovered in a vapor state nearby, following them upstairs, waiting to see if Madeleine invited the young man in. She didn't. She mumbled a barely audible good night and went inside.
"She's safe," Nicholas announced to the empty hallway. Stephen re-formed and faced the furious young man. "What the hell did you do to her? It's like she's crushed."
"It's not your concern." He tried to fill the words with venom but knew he failed. Leaving Nicholas in the hall, Stephen bolted from the building, too tempted to rip open Madeleine's door and beg her forgiveness. But how did he ask for forgiveness for what he was? It was a sin from which he couldn't hide.
The streets were slowing, losing their nightlife, as he stormed through the town. Gayle was waiting for him when he arrived at Death's Door. The other vampire opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. "Let's go downstairs." He led Stephen down a single dark staircase to the massive vault below the club. Stephen paced the length of the room while Gayle closed the door, sealing them from listening ears, and waited. "Is she dead?"
"No."
"Then what?"
Stephen glared at his friend. "She walked out on me."
"Whoa. You are out of practice."
Stephen ignored him. He shouldn't have come here. He wasn't in the mood for G
ayle's teasing. He should have gone home and…and what? Brooded, thought about Madeleine, paced the living room like a madman. Pretty much what he was doing here. "Damn."
"Listen, why don't you—"
A buzzer interrupted Gayle's advice. They both looked at the vault door. "It must be important. No one bothers me when I'm down here." He walked to the wall and flipped a switch. A TV monitor came on, revealing what was on the other side of the door. Thomass and two Council Members.
"Just what I need tonight," Stephen muttered.
Gayle swung the door open and stepped outside to meet them. Stephen watched on the monitors. Gayle shook his head. Then again. Finally, he turned and came back inside.
"They want to search your house."
"For what?"
"They won't say. But we both know."
"My father's knives." He kept the strain out of his voice, knowing Gayle would recognize it.
Stephen wasn't worried they'd find the knives. He'd moved them, slipping them out of his room tonight while Madeleine slept. It had been a mindless activity to distract him from the lithe, sexy body lying on his bed. He'd had to do something or he'd have been on her again. He licked his lips. No hint of her flavor remained, but the memory was still sweet.
He shook his head to clear it. The knives weren't far away, just inaccessible to anyone but him. At worst, they'd find a lingering touch of silver, but that could be explained away.
No, the Council finding his knives wasn't Stephen's main concern. There was a bigger issue. He'd checked the case as he'd moved it—two more daggers were gone. Two more vampires were scheduled to die. Madeleine's abrupt departure tonight had briefly pushed the knives from his thoughts.
"Whatever happened to them?" Gayle's question drew him back.
"The daggers? They're safe. I assume," Stephen added when Gayle looked at him. Stephen ignored the question in his eyes and raised his chin to the door. "Go with them, would you?"
Gayle agreed and left Stephen alone. He could have gone himself, but his mind was beyond the Council tonight. Let them find what they would. He didn't notice time passing, his thoughts occupied with fighting off the memories of Madeleine and the silk of her skin, the taste of her.
Dammit, he'd known she'd be trouble when she first entered his life, but he'd never considered how distracting she'd be. When he should have been focusing on who was framing him for killing off the Council—and figuring out how they were doing it—he'd been thinking of Madeleine. Now, he used the murders to distract his mind from images of her. He had to look at the possibility that a vampire was working alone, killing Council members with silver daggers. But how? Stephen looked at his own past. What made him different? Why was he able to—
The whir of the vault opening grabbed his attention.
Gayle slipped in, concern and confusion replacing the usual lightness on his face.
Stephen waited for Gayle to speak. Finally, Gayle shook his head. "Nothing. They checked the whole house." The lines around Gayle's eyes crinkled for moment as he thought. "There was some concern in the bedroom."
"The safe in the closet," Stephen offered with as much amusement as he could create.
"No, they saw that. It was something else. Thomass thought he sensed something in the top dresser drawer, but Charles and I searched and didn't find anything."
The dresser drawer? He'd never had his knives in the dresser. Too accessible. Not that their previous location had been that secure. Someone obviously knew how to get them.
"Someone's out to get you, my friend."
Stephen nodded. Someone who knew the truth. He flipped through his history again. Had anyone known about the knives? It was possible someone had seen them as he'd packed for the trip to America. If that were the case, why wait two hundred years to reveal it? A vampire keeping silver daggers, daggers specifically designed to kill their kind, would have instantly become the Council's target. Anyone who knew would have used the knowledge before now.
"Stay here tonight."
Stephen agreed to Gayle's advice. Dawn was close, and the temptation too great. If he left, he would find himself at Madeleine's.
Gayle came and went for another hour, leaving Stephen alone in the vault. He walked the length of the cavernous room, unable to settle. The second he stopped moving, he was hit by Madeleine's memory.
She'd left him. It wasn't physical. He knew she'd been satisfied, but when sanity returned, she'd run from him.
What did you expect? She'd declare her undying love? The idea was insane. A human in love with a vampire. No wonder she'd escaped.
Madeleine.
The image of her in his bed was too easy to conjure. He'd been teased by dreams and fantasies. They'd been nothing compared to the reality of touching her skin, feeling the heat of her body as he joined with her.
Dawn arrived as Gayle reentered the vault and sealed the door. For once, Stephen welcomed the oblivion of death. Pain wracked his body as the night pulled him back. He lay down on a bed, knowing he wouldn't fight it this morning. He'd let it take him. He closed his eyes and waited.
Madeleine turned to him and smiled. She spread the edges of her gown and bared herself to him. She was strong and powerful. He wanted her. She knew it, could see it in his hot eyes. She curled her fingers and beckoned him closer.
Stephen's eyes snapped open, and he stared at the dark in front of him.
Miles away and she was still with him.
Chapter Ten
Madeleine turned the key and looked over her shoulder. Nick was at his usual spot in the hallway, just down from her apartment. Tonight, she'd finally managed to nag him into leaving the overhang across the street and come into her building. In the past three days, since the night Stephen had sent her home with him, Nick had continued to escort her to and from work, and he'd stayed outside through the night. She saw him less during the days. He disappeared shortly after he took her to work and returned just before sunset. Each day, the exhaustion hung on him more heavily.
She cocked her head and stared at the young man propped up against the wall. She sighed. "Nick, you don't have to stand out here all night."
"I'm supposed to watch you."
"You don't have to stay out here. Would you like to come—"
"Don't say it!" The sharp slap of his words shocked her. "Don't invite me in," he commanded. His voice held the deep, impenetrable darkness that so often surrounded Stephen.
"Nick, I'm not afraid of you."
"You should be. I'm one of them, Madeleine. I might hate it but you can't ever forget it."
The quiet, dead tone made the tiny hairs along her arms stand up. She suppressed a shiver, not wanting him to see her fear. Silently, she nodded and entered her apartment, dragged down by the depressing reality of Nick's existence.
Great, she thought. Sympathy for a vampire. She closed her eyes for one moment and took a deep breath. A least it was something to distract her from thoughts of Stephen. She hadn't heard from him since that night. She wasn't surprised. After the way she'd behaved…she cringed at the memory. She wouldn't have called her, either.
She'd wigged out on him. Oh, she'd had a good reason. She'd just had mind-blowing sex with a vampire. Twice. It was enough to throw any woman off her game. But still…
Maybe he was waiting for her to apologize. Maybe that's why she hadn't heard from him.
"Or maybe he got what he wanted, and he's just waiting for a full moon so he can kill me," she muttered aloud.
That thought was way too grim to face. And she'd faced some grim thoughts in the past two weeks.
Unfortunately, making love to him hadn't lessened the fantasies. The dreams had been bad before—now they were overwhelming. Her fantasies, his fantasies, reality—it all blended together to keep her body and mind in a constant state of arousal.
She pressed her shoulders back and lifted her chin, strengthening her resolve. She would not be lured by mere physical pleasure—no matter how good it had been. It was just sex. Hot. M
ind-blowing. But still just sex.
It was more.
At least for her. Damn it, for one night, she'd felt connected and sexy and—she winced at the word—loved.
She pushed away from the door and walked to the bedroom, pulling off her work clothes. Silver glittered across her bare arms and hung in strands around her neck as she took off her blouse. Over the past few days, she'd bought enough silver to start her own mint. She wore the necklaces and bracelets at all times.
She'd promised herself she wouldn't take them off for any reason—well, except for one. If Stephen came by. She shook her head. That wasn't likely.
She missed him—missed his surprise appearances in her living room, missed the long talks, exploring his mind. And his body. She shuddered as the thought opened the door to another fantasy—this one pure memory. The power and strength that had moved through her from his body, the sweet touch of his mouth on her skin.
He's a vampire!
It no longer made her heart pound. He was Stephen. And she wanted him.
One good thing had happened as a result of their lovemaking—the whispering in her head had faded. It had been completely gone the day after, but the noise was slowly returning. Maybe she should call Stephen and get another dose of the cure. She shook her head. The thought was too tempting. She'd have to live with the voices for a while longer.
With a sigh, she wandered into the kitchen and stared into her cupboard. The last can of soup stared back. Tomorrow was Saturday, and she was determined to use some of the daylight hours to go grocery shopping. The restriction of being home by sunset had left her little time for errands or shopping. She was down to the last can of soup. If she didn't shop soon, she'd be forced to delve into the dark recesses of her freezer—an idea almost as scary as vampires.
While the soup warmed on the stove, she moved to the living room and sat down in front of the couch. She wasn't doing office work tonight—tonight it was research, or what she was calling research. She'd thrown the stakes out the day after they'd made love. There was no way she could stab Stephen with a wooden stake. She couldn't do it. She had to find another way.
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