His Dark Embrace

by Ashley, Amanda

  And then, in the distance, she saw a large black box, the same black box she had seen as a child the night Kaiden Thorne moved into the house across the street. Odd, that she could see so clearly in the darkness.

  Drawn with Pandora-like curiosity, she moved slowly toward the box. Only when she drew near did she realize it wasn’t a box at all, but an old-fashioned casket.

  She tried to turn back, but her feet seemed to have a mind of their own and she drew closer, ever closer. As if it belonged to someone else, she watched her hand lift the lid.

  Kaiden Thorne lay inside.

  She woke screaming in her own bed with no memory of how she had gotten there.

  Sitting up, she clutched her pillow to her chest until her heart stopped beating double time and her breathing returned to normal.

  “It was just a nightmare.” She brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. “Just a nightmare,” she repeated.

  And yet it had seemed so real.

  Throwing the covers aside, she got out of bed, then sat on the edge of the mattress when the room began to spin out of focus. Why did she feel so dizzy? Was she coming down with the flu? She lifted a hand to her forehead. She didn’t have a fever. Maybe she had just gotten up too fast.

  She sat there for several moments, taking slow, deep breaths, and then tried again. When nothing happened, she went into the bathroom, where she washed her face and brushed her teeth.

  After dressing in a pair of old comfy sweats, she went downstairs. Coffee, she needed coffee—and lots of it.

  Minutes later, steaming cup in hand, she went out to sit on the front porch swing. The storm had passed and the morning was bright and clear and beautiful. She stared at the house across the way, wondering if Kaiden was awake.

  She frowned. She had a vague recollection of going over there last night. Or had she only dreamed it? Her thoughts seemed fuzzy this morning. Odd. She didn’t feel hung over. She didn’t remember drinking anything stronger than a single glass of wine.

  In fact, she didn’t remember much of anything at all. So, what had happened and why was it so hard to remember? She frowned, concentrating. She had gone over to Kaiden’s house when the lights went out. They had talked about Granda. She remembered Kaiden telling her she had something he needed ... but he had never told her what it was. She didn’t remember anything after that.

  After finishing her coffee, she put her cup aside, then sat there, staring at Kaiden’s house. She couldn’t remember what had happened last night, but she remembered something from a rainy night years ago. How old had she been back then? Ten, eleven? She recalled being awakened by a nightmare and going into Granda’s room, only he hadn’t been there. Frightened, she had gone downstairs, but he hadn’t been there, either. Noticing that the door leading to the basement was open, she had tiptoed to the top of the stairs, then hesitated. She wasn’t supposed to go down there, but a rumble of thunder sent her scurrying down the stairs in search of her grandfather. Light shone under the door of Granda’s lab. Curious, she had pressed her ear to the door, and heard Kaiden’s voice.

  “Dammit, old man, that hurts like hell!”

  “Do you want to give up?” Granda’s voice.

  “Of course not! But do you have to use silver? You know it burns like acid.”

  “It’s the only thing that will hold you.”

  “I gave you my word!”

  “That you did,” Granda said. “But better safe than sorry where you’re concerned.”

  Sky recoiled as an angry growl rattled the door. Was there a wild animal in there?

  Taking a tight rein on her courage, her nightmare forgotten, she pressed her ear to the door again.

  “Relax,” Granda said. “I’m just taking a little blood.”

  A harsh bark of laughter and then Kaiden said, “I could use a little of that myself.”

  “If this works, you won’t have to worry about that anymore.”

  Sky didn’t remember making any noise, but suddenly Kaiden said, “We’ve got company.”

  A moment later, the door opened and Granda stood there, blocking her view of the lab. “What are you doing here?” he asked sharply. “You should be in bed.”

  “I had a nightmare.” She moved to the left as a groan that sounded as if it had been ripped from Kaiden Thorne’s throat reached her ears.

  Granda moved with her, blocking her view. “Go back to bed, Skylynn.”

  Sky had stood her ground, her curiosity growing with every passing second. Why were Granda and Mr. Thorne working so late? Why was Mr. Thorne groaning? Was he in pain? Why wouldn’t Granda let her look inside the lab?

  “What are you and Mr. Thorne doing down here?” she asked.

  But Granda had never answered her question.

  Thinking of it now, she realized Granda must have been experimenting with the formula, but what on earth did blood and silver have to do with it? Surely they weren’t ingredients in Kaiden’s tonic. And what had Granda been doing to Kaiden that had caused him so much distress? He could have been drawing some blood, she supposed, but from the pain in Kaiden’s voice, that seemed unlikely.

  Rising, Sky strolled to the other end of the front porch, then sat on the rail. What had really been going on in the lab that night? If she marched across the street and asked Kaiden, would he tell her?

  Did she really want to know?

  Moving back to the swing, she found herself watching Kaiden’s house again. Nothing seemed to be stirring over there. Maybe he wasn’t even home.

  Eventually, hunger drove her inside. She fixed a big breakfast, thinking how much more pleasant it was when shared with Kaiden.

  After breakfast, she called her boss and told him she had decided to stay in California. He grumbled about it, complained that she was leaving him shorthanded, but in the end, he wished her well and even offered to pack up the things in her office and send them to her.

  “Thank you, Mr. Laskey, but would you please just send them to my apartment? I’ll be coming back to Chicago to get the rest of my clothes and things.” When he agreed, she murmured, “Thank you so much,” and disconnected the call.

  There was no hurry to return to Chicago. Her rent was paid until the end of the year. She just hoped her landlord would consider giving her a refund.

  Thorne came awake as the sun slid below the horizon. He remained in bed, staring up at the ceiling for several minutes. Sleeping through the day was the final sign that the effects of Paddy’s miraculous potion had completely worn off. Even more damning was the voracious thirst that had awakened with him, a hunger the likes of which he hadn’t known since the night he had first risen as a new vampire. It coursed through his veins like hot lead, searing nerves and cells. His jaw ached as his fangs ran out. Dammit! He had known it was only a matter of time before he reverted completely, but he had hoped he would have a few more weeks with Skylynn, a few more days to pretend he was no different from any other man.

  He sat up and as he did so, his surroundings took on a faint red glow. But it wasn’t the room that was changing. Had he been able to see his reflection, he knew his eyes would be hell-red, his skin stretched taut over cheekbones gaunt with hunger.

  He didn’t waste time showering. Didn’t bother to change out of the faded gray sweats he had worn to bed. A thought took him out of the house, away from the temptation that was Skylynn, to a neighboring town.

  Death stalked the streets as Thorne searched for prey. There had been a time, before Paddy’s potion, when he had been selective, even picky, about those he preyed upon. But not tonight, with his veins burning and his body cramping, on fire with need. Tonight anything—man or beast—was fair game.

  He took the first lone male he encountered. It didn’t matter that the man was old and drunk, or that he smelled of cheap wine and rotten teeth. Nothing mattered but the blood flowing in the man’s veins, the hot coppery elixir that would put an end to Thorne’s torment.

  He didn’t care that the blood tasted old and sour. All that matt
ered was that it eased his hunger and took the edge off his thirst.

  Another swallow and he turned away. He didn’t bother to make the man forget what had happened. No one would believe anything the drunken old derelict said.

  In control again, Thorne sought another victim, a young woman with white-blond hair and brown eyes. He mesmerized her with a look, took what he needed, and after erasing the incident from her mind, he sent the woman on her way.

  Standing in the shadows, all his preternatural instincts stirring to life, he bid a sad farewell to the man he had been for the last eight years.

  Kaiden Thorne, the man, had died tonight.

  Kaiden Thorne, the vampire, had been reborn.

  For the tenth time that day, Sky peeked out the curtains in the living room. It had been a week since she had last seen Kaiden—seven days—with each day seeming longer, lonelier, than the last.

  Where was he?

  Had he left town—left her—without so much as a fare-thee-well?

  The thought hurt more than it should have. True, they had shared a few heated kisses, but, in reality, they were little more than friends.

  She had gone knocking on his door twice, but there had been no answer. The house had seemed oddly deserted, as if no one lived there anymore.

  With a sigh, she let the curtains fall back into place. It surprised her how quickly Kaiden had become an integral part of her life. She felt as if something vital was missing, as if someone had taken an old rusty saw and carved out a piece of her heart, leaving a gaping wound in its place.

  Turning away from the window, Sky wandered through the house. It wasn’t a big place by today’s standards. Just a living room, den, kitchen, and half-bath on the first floor, with a master suite, two smaller bedrooms, and a bathroom upstairs. And Granda’s lab in the basement. Sky had considered moving into the master bedroom, mainly because it had its own bathroom and a large closet, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not yet, anyway.

  Returning to the living room, she straightened the pillows on the sofa, rearranged the pictures on the mantel. She ran her fingertips over the head of the little blue dragon Kaiden had won at the fair. Picking it up, she rubbed it against her cheek. The soft plush reminded her of the fun they’d had at the fair, of Kaiden’s kisses.

  With a shake of her head, she set the dragon back on the mantel and then, as if drawn by an invisible string, she found herself at the front window again.

  Where was he?

  Thorne prowled the dark shadows along the waterfront, hands clenched as he sorted through the myriad smells that assaulted his nostrils—sand and salt and sea, the stink of diesel oil and rotting fish, the stench of a dead seal somewhere on the beach. Noise battered his ears—music from a nearby nightclub, traffic from the freeway, an angry couple fighting about money in an apartment two streets over.

  Ten days had passed since he’d drunk the last of the potion and he was still coming to terms with the return of his vampiric senses. When he had first been turned, it had taken months to learn how to shut out the multitude of sounds and smells that had assailed him from every side, to adjust to the changes in his vision, his acute sense of touch, his increased strength.

  While taking Paddy’s potion, his preternatural powers had gradually diminished. His senses had still been sharper than those of an ordinary mortal, but far less keen than he was accustomed to. It had taken some getting used to but, in the long run, the weakening of his vampiric abilities had seemed a fair trade for the chance to walk in the sun again, to enjoy all the pleasures of mortality that had been stolen from him one rainy night.

  Now, it was like being a fledgling again, learning how to tune out the constant barrage of voices and city chaos, to control the strength and power that had lain dormant, to subdue his hunger, to rein in the ever-present urge to kill.

  He had hunted every evening, always fighting the innate instinct to take it all. He had hoped it would get easier to resist the blood-lust, and perhaps it would again, given enough time. But for now ...

  He paused in the shadows as the scent of prey drifted on the wind.

  Like a lion on the trail of fresh blood, he turned toward the scent, his fangs lengthening in response to the steady beat of a living heart, the irresistible smell of fresh, hot blood.

  Chapter 8

  Girard Desmarais paced the basement floor of the monastery, his long gray cloak billowing behind him like the shadow of death. He muttered under his breath, his frustration growing, as he read the blasted formula again and again. He had followed McNamara’s instructions to the letter. Every herb and spice had been picked at the peak of freshness and properly dried; each ingredient, both liquid and dry, had been painstakingly measured to make sure they were exact. And still the blasted concoction did not ferment as it should.

  Even as he stood there, Girard could feel the aging process begin again, feel the vitality leaving his body, his eyesight growing dim, his muscles weakening, his thoughts harder to focus.

  A row of wire cages, both large and small, ran on either side of a long wooden workbench. All the animals he had tested the potion on were either dead or dying. Those remaining stared at him through liquid, mournful eyes, as if they knew their own days were numbered.

  Girard smacked his fist against the door frame. It was obvious that some vital active ingredient was missing from the formula, but what the hell was it? Now that McNamara had passed away, there was no way of knowing.

  Muttering an oath, Girard swept his arm across the countertop, sending beakers and bottles flying in every direction.

  “Damn you, Patrick McNamara! Could you not have survived until I got there?” He stared at the notebook pages scattered across the floor. What if the formula he had stolen wasn’t the correct one? What if this batch of the potion had failed, and the formula for the potion that worked was still in the old man’s lab?

  Girard frowned as he considered his options, although there was really only one.

  He would have to go back to McNamara’s and search the house again.

  Chapter 9

  Sky dumped a load of clean laundry on the sofa. Two weeks had passed since she had last seen Kaiden and she had finally come to terms with the fact that he had left town. Had he gone after the man who’d broken into Granda’s laboratory? Had he been called away on an emergency—a death in the family, perhaps, although he had never mentioned having brothers or sisters or any other relatives. He didn’t have a job, so a crisis at work was out of the question. If he had decided to take a vacation, he certainly could have found the time to tell her.

  She paused in the act of folding a bath towel. Maybe he had just grown tired of her and didn’t want to hurt her feelings by saying so. She could understand that. After all, she wasn’t anybody special. Her looks were average. She hadn’t been blessed with a fantastic sense of humor. She couldn’t sing or play the piano.

  Kaiden, on the other hand, was an amazingly handsome man who had been born with an astonishing amount of charisma, not to mention being blessed with a voice that could melt steel and a smile that should come with a warning label. Just being around him had made her feel good. And she missed him terribly.

  Putting the towel aside, she sank down in the chair beside the fireplace, suddenly overcome with a keen sense of loss. Granda was gone. She’d had no word about Sam in months, making it harder and harder to cling to the hope that he was still alive. And now Kaiden was gone.

  She glanced at the mantel, at the cute little stuffed blue dragon sitting there beside a photograph of her parents, and felt the sharp sting of tears behind her eyes. She wouldn’t cry. Crying never solved anything. It hadn’t brought her parents back. It hadn’t brought Granda back. Sam was still missing in action. And Kaiden ... Thinking of him only made her tears come harder and faster, until it was easier to just give in and have a good cry.

  Sky woke curled up in the chair, her shoulders and back aching, her eyes feeling gritty and swollen.

  She rose
with a groan, surprised to see that it was almost dark outside. Unable to resist, she went to the front window and peered at the house across the street. Was that a light on downstairs? She rubbed her eyes and looked again. The light was still there.

  He was back.

  Ignoring the inner voice that warned her to stay home and let him come to her if he was of a mind to, she finger-combed her hair and hurried across the street.

  The door opened before she had a chance to knock and Kaiden stood silhouetted in the doorway. She couldn’t see his face in the shadows, but he loomed before her, tall and broad. Had he been a stranger, she would have been intimidated by his size alone.

  “Skylynn.” There was no emotion in his voice, no hint of welcome.

  “I’ve been so worried. I didn’t know where you were ... I ... I ...” She bit down on her lower lip, the flood of words drying up. It was obvious that he wasn’t glad to see her. “I’m ... I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I was afraid ... that is ... I mean ...” She paused to take a breath. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come.”

  She was turning to go when his hand closed over her forearm. “Slow down, Sky, and tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Nothing.” She was too embarrassed to meet his gaze. Why hadn’t she stayed home where she belonged?

  He tugged lightly on her arm. “Come in.”

  Still not meeting his eyes, she shook her head. “I don’t want to intrude.”

  “Then why are you here?” he asked, a note of amusement in his voice.

  She glared at him. “I was worried about you, you big jerk. Good-bye.”

  “Get in here. You look like hell. Have you been sick?”

  She tried to twist out of his grip, but it was like trying to break iron. Resigned, she let him pull her into the house.

  He shut the door, then turned to face her, his arms folded across his chest. “Okay, Sky Blue, spit it out. What’s wrong?”