Serafina and the Silent Vampire

by Marie Treanor

  Later, as they left the restaurant, she paused to gaze up at the ancient, looming castle. Her lips tugged upward into a lopsided smile. “One of the few things in this city that’s older than you.”

  “I like the mixture of older and newer—it’s one reason I keep coming back here.”

  “I’ve never been anywhere else.”

  “What, never?”

  “Well, Glasgow. A couple of places up north and a weekend trip to York. I’ve never even been to London, let alone abroad.”

  “Why not?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I suppose I’m too comfortable. And to go abroad, I’d need a passport. To get one of those, I’d need my birth certificate. For some reason, I never wanted to see it.”

  “Because it would solve the mystery?”

  “Maybe.”

  He took her hand to lead her up the hill. “Well, you have the certificate now.”

  “So I do. Who needs mystery when they have a passport?”

  “Exactly.”

  He felt her gaze on his face, warm like the flesh of her fingers lightly clasping his. She said, “Is that what you do when you get bored? Travel?”

  Unnerved, he glanced at her. “I suppose I used to, when I could.”

  “You’ve lived more than four human lifetimes,” she mused. “As the song says, ‘Who wants to live forever?’ Do you never feel that?”

  He kept his mind silent. He didn’t know what to say, and yet dishonesty would lose the moment of closeness that he had no idea why he valued. Her eyes slid away from his, and he felt her leaving at the same time.

  “Boredom is the curse of the vampire,” he quoted desperately. “It’s the reason very few of us are truly immortal. We die because we lose the will to exist.”

  Her eyes seemed to pierce him. “Have you ever felt that way?”

  “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

  For a moment, she stared into his eyes as if waiting for more or perhaps just mulling it over. Again, he wondered if she’d picked up anything about him from touching stuff in his flat.

  And then she frowned again. “Is that why Phil drinks?”

  “No, Phil’s drinking is partly addiction and partly affectation. He enjoys his vampirism.”

  “Like you?”

  Sneaky, coming back at him when he’d relaxed, but he was able to curl his lip and say dryly, “Not quite like me.”

  It was only later that he realized she’d turned the tables on him, invading his secrecy to preserve her own. Two creatures who could read each other’s minds.

  ****

  He could barely wait until they were inside her flat. He followed her in, turned with her as she closed the door, and hemmed her there with his hands on the wall on either side of her head. She stared at him, her eyes dilating, her lips trembling as he bent to take them.

  But again, she surprised him, ducking under his left arm and bolting for the kitchen. He felt her shyness unexpected after last night’s uninhibited lovemaking, a knowledge that tonight would make it more than a one-night stand. Humans were obsessed with numbers. But beyond that, beyond even her undoubted desire for him, lay a wealth of confused, desperate emotions that the night’s outing hadn’t dissipated, merely postponed.

  Well, if she wanted to take her mind off her troubles, Blair was just the vampire to help. He walked into the kitchen after her, took the kettle from her hands, set it down, and turned her into his arms. Her fingers gripped his shoulders tightly, then slid around his neck and held on to his hair like a drowning woman clinging to seaweed.

  “Blair, I—”

  He sent her an image of them entwined, still semi-clothed against the kitchen door, and her words dried up in her throat. She swallowed convulsively.

  “Yes?” he said in her mind. “Right here, right now?”

  Her breath caught. Her heart drummed in her breast, drowning out her thoughts—or perhaps his. He didn’t care, for she suddenly pulled his head down and latched her mouth to his. He pushed her backward into the door, letting their combined weight close it tight as he pressed close into her. She let out a moan that inflamed him even further. She licked his fangs, sealing her fate for the night, and he swept his hands downward over the sides of her breasts and hips. He parted her legs with his knee, and she pushed against his thigh as if she couldn’t help it.

  There was a new desperation in her kisses, in her urgency, and Blair was more than happy to fill her needs. He moved her body with him, as if dancing, while he unfastened her jeans and pushed them down over her hips and thighs. Then he slid one hand up her body, pushing her top out of the way and freeing her breasts. In a movement that must have made her dizzy, he whisked her upward against the door, bracing her high enough that he could kiss her exposed breasts with ease. Her nipples were hard and responsive to every caress of his lips and tongue; her skin tasted of sunshine and fresh flowers.

  Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging, holding him to her breasts. It was sweet, it was sexy, but it wasn’t nearly enough. Her hands were on his jeans now, trembling, fumbling with his buttons. He did it for her, brushing her hands aside. He lifted his head from her breast, devouring her lust-clouded face with his eyes. Her parted lips were full and red with kisses, her cheeks flushed with passion. He lifted one of her legs, dragging it free of her jeans to hook it over his hip. He caressed her thigh and smooth, curving buttock, let her feel the hardness of his cock, stroking it along the devastating wetness between her thighs. She leaned on him, using him as leverage to lift and impale herself upon him. She gasped, closing her eyes with the shock. She felt amazing, a hot, firm, velvet sheath pulsing around him. She even smiled with wicked triumph straight into his eyes. If he’d had a voice, he’d have growled or howled with triumph. He thrust into her hard.

  Although not the seduction he’d intended as he’d waited and planned in the long hours of daylight, he took it anyway. And she didn’t just accept this urgency; she insisted on it. Twisting and writhing on him, she moaned aloud with pleasure as he hammered her against the kitchen door.

  At such a fever pitch, she couldn’t last. Her knees buckled as she fell into orgasm, but he was enjoying it far too much to surrender just yet to his own clamoring climax. He loved the juddering, hugging caress of her convulsions. And so he gave her a bonus, increasing the speed of his thrusts well beyond what a human could possibly achieve or even see. Her head fell back against the door, revealing her pale, graceful neck, flushed now with passion, its veins standing out blue, beautiful and oh so tempting as he fucked her. He knew from experience that the inhuman speed of his movements inside her could hold her in intense orgasm for several minutes. But he didn’t think she could take that, not yet. And besides, he needed a distraction from her beautiful, throbbing vein. And so he pushed himself as deep inside her as he could get and let go.

  Christ, it was good. It had been a long time since a knee trembler had dragged him to the floor with the explosive force of its climax. But at least he took her with him, rolling half under the table to keep himself inside her delectable body while the storm raged and slowly calmed.

  “Neat trick,” she said shakily when she could form the words.

  “I’ve always thought so.”

  ****

  Blair lay beside her in her bed, enveloped in the warm darkness, listening to her breathing. Warning bells were going off all over his head. Not just because he liked screwing this human girl too much, but because he liked this too much too—just lying beside her, hearing the beat of her heart and the even rise and fall of her lungs. He wanted to keep her safe and keep her with him. And that, as he well knew, did not lead to a peaceful happy ever after.

  Well, who needed peace?

  He smiled and let himself drift off into the aware half sleep of the vampire.

  It seemed only minutes later that he felt Sera rise and walk across the room to the door. He blinked himself fully awake. A few moments later, he heard the toilet flush and the splash of water from the bathroom
tap. And then silence. But she didn’t return to bed.

  With anyone else, he might have used telepathy to find out what they were doing. With Sera, it seemed too much like spying. He seemed to have to wear his honorable schoolboy hat around her.

  He rose from the bed and left the room.

  He almost didn’t notice her at first. The light was off, but that didn’t matter—he could see in the dark. He’d taken several steps into the living room before he caught sight of her.

  She sat naked on the floor with her back against the sofa and her knees drawn up in front of her. Her face was hidden in her knees, and her whole body shook convulsively.

  He’d never seen a human cry silently. Not since his mother.

  The knowledge held him paralyzed. Which was a good thing. She was too lost in her own misery to know he was there. She didn’t want him there. It would be easy and far better for both of them if he just crawled back to bed and left her to it.

  Or he could go out and feed. His snack in the restaurant really wasn’t enough to keep body and soullessness together.

  He went to the sofa and sat down. Her heaving shoulders stilled. There was a muffled gulp, then silence. He laid his hand on her head, gently stroking.

  “Don’t,” she gasped.

  “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t be kind to me!” With a broken-off sob, she turned onto him, burying her face in his knee instead.

  He bent and put his arms around her. “I’m not being kind. I just want more sex.”

  At least it raised a watery sound that might have been a laugh. She knew it wasn’t true. That was another thing he liked about her. Most people, human and vampire, took his jokes at face value.

  For a long moment, they just stayed like that. Then he made her lift her face to his. Her eyes shone still with brimming tears while the stains and drips from earlier ones ran down her cheeks.

  “Still want that sex?” she asked ruefully.

  “Always.” He brushed her tears with his thumb. “I know I’m a vampire, but it’s not usually the sex that makes women cry.”

  “Oh, it isn’t you, you self-centered—male.”

  “Then who’s making you so unhappy?”

  She dashed her hand across her eyes. “Nicholas Smith, of course.”

  Human relationships. He was lucky to be shot of them. “Not the best father you could have wished for,” he acknowledged.

  “Why not?” she retorted. “He cheats like me. He’s even—” She broke off, leaving no more than an echo in the air, but it was enough for him to understand. Fighting his detaining hand, she dropped her face back onto his naked thigh.

  “He’s even psychic,” Blair finished for her. “You think you inherited your gift from him. You think it isn’t yours anymore.” There was more, of course. There was always more. Her gift had made her special, in her own eyes more than in anyone else’s. Now it wasn’t special at all. It was shared. It was given to her, just as her black hair was given, because of who her father was.

  Serafina MacBride, brash and capable as she was, had built her self-confidence on very shaky foundations. It was probably even the real reason she’d rarely left Scotland, where she was the strongest psychic anyone was likely to encounter. And she’d recognized that earlier tonight when she’d brought the subject up.

  “Serafina. He didn’t make you who you are. Many things come with blood. Life itself. It’s what you do with those things, those gifts, that makes you.”

  She didn’t look up. But she didn’t move away from him either. He shifted his leg under her face. “I know what you’re thinking. That you have a pale imitation of his power. You think you can’t defeat him because he’s stronger than you, and that if he wins, it’s therefore your fault.”

  “Oh, shut up,” she said, sudden anguish in her voice. “I hate you.”

  Since she put her arms around his waist and clung to him as she spoke, he didn’t take her words too seriously. It wasn’t hate he sensed coming from her. So he lifted her off the floor and settled her in his lap.

  He stroked her hair. “I know. I know too that you can win, because you have a strength he lacks.”

  She lifted her head, rested her chin on his chest to look up at him. Christ, she was beautiful, her eyes sparkling with her recent tears and raw emotion still trembling on her full, so kissable lips. “The night before last, you said he was stronger than me.”

  Blair shrugged. “In some things he is. But you have something he doesn’t.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I feel it.”

  ****

  Sera woke with the sun filtering through the curtains. She opened her eyes and lay very still. His big, cool body was no longer beside her, which was disappointing. She stretched luxuriously, like a sensual cat.

  On the other hand, it was probably as well he’d left. As she relaxed her muscles, the warmth of the comfort he’d given her so unexpectedly last night began to dissolve. She’d wept all over him. No wonder he’d buggered off.

  His kindness had been a surprise. After all, it wasn’t as if Blair was the sort to go through the socially expected motions: There, there, don’t cry, you’ll be fine. But it was his understanding that devastated her. He had knowledge of her pathetic weakness now, and that gave him power over her.

  “I’ve messed it up again,” she whispered.

  Messed what up? He’s a vampire! she reminded herself. Were you imagining yourself in some kind of relationship with him just because he chose to fuck you a couple of times? Because you chose to let him? Because it was so bloody good…

  She threw off the quilt and leapt out of bed, as if by doing so she could escape the unbearable thoughts in her head. They weren’t worth a damn anyway, besides the rather more important issue of her sodding father taking over the world with entranced vampires.

  What B-movie writer had thought that one up?

  She showered and dressed as quickly as possible and ran downstairs. The flat smelled of him, of sex and false happiness, and she couldn’t wait to get away from it. She made coffee in the office of Serafina’s and nipped across the road to the shop and bought a bacon sandwich. Then she settled down at her desk with a pen and a piece of paper.

  The sandwich was finished, but she was still writing busily when the others arrived, all together for once.

  “Busy boss,” Jack observed, throwing his jacket at the coat hooks on the wall as he did each morning.

  “Conference,” Sera commanded, and Jilly and Jack promptly came and sat on her desk while Elspeth sat at the reception desk nearest the door. “You too, Elspeth,” Sera said.

  Elspeth looked surprised but pleased to be included. Jilly wiggled her eyebrows but made no comment, merely dragged a chair across with her feet for Elspeth to sit in.

  “We need to decide what to do,” Sera said abruptly. “This is the situation. Nicholas Smith, aka Nick Black, is a sorcerer who has used some unknown spell to control an ever-growing number of vampires, turned under his instructions from people holding key posts in the financial sector. His ultimate plan is to use the vampires to control—and use—all the wealth at their firms’ disposal. We know the danger to human life and freedom etc. What you probably don’t know is that Nicholas Smith is my father.”

  Three pairs of wandering, restless eyes transferred their gazes to her face with a snap. Sera drew a deep breath and got it over with.

  “He came here last night, waving my birth certificate. His name isn’t on it, but he seems to regard it as genuine proof that I’m his daughter, and Melanie agrees it’s more likely than not. The good news about it all is, he doesn’t want me to be hurt—which I’m sure you’ll agree is big of him. However, I doubt his benevolence extends to you guys, so I doubt it’s much of an advantage. From my end, I’d wimp out of killing him, but I won’t weep if someone else does the bastard in.”

  “Fuck,” Jilly said in awe, though at what in particular wasn’t clear.

  Ser
a ploughed on regardless. “The other bad news is that vampires can’t touch him, not even Blair.”

  “That’s a blow,” Elspeth said unexpectedly. She seemed to be listening intently and thinking deeply.

  “It is. It means we have nothing to scare him with, and if Blair can’t kill him for us, it means we have less chance of breaking his hold on the vampires and—”

  “Shit, Sera, he’s a vampire himself, not your private assassin.” Jack sounded shocked.

  She stared at him. “We have to use every tool we have.”

  “It’s a long time since anyone’s called me a tool, at least in my hearing.”

  At the sound of his voice in her head, Sera’s heart seemed to lurch into her mouth. Beneath it, her stomach was trying to do backflips. And when she forced herself to look over Elspeth’s shoulder and see him strolling out of the inner office, looking sexy as hell in black leather trousers and boots and a short, leather biker jacket, she recognized the pain behind all that turmoil as grief.

  Oh no. I won’t grieve for what I never had. Aloud, she said, “How did you get here?”

  “Sewer or smoking blanket?” Jilly added.

  “Motorbike,” Blair said surprisingly, although Jilly continued to stare at him in expectation of an answer.

  Sera frowned, then forced herself to swallow the question. She had a feeling she’d only be feeding him lines. And besides, she refused to care. “It doesn’t matter,” she said hastily. She looked him in the eye as he came to a halt behind Elspeth’s chair. “I want to know how they feel about the mass killing of vampires.”

  His eyebrow twitched. “You want them to kill the vampires?”

  “If necessary,” she said steadily.

  His strange, profound eyes searched hers, one at a time. “They could die. You could die.”

  “You have an alternative?” Sera snapped. Around her, she was aware of the others’ bewilderment as they picked up only one side of the conversation.

  She heard Elspeth whisper to Jilly, “Oh dear. Is that…?”

  “Oh yes,” said Jilly, and Elspeth actually turned her seat for a better look.