Darkness Dawns (immortal guardians)

by Dianne Duvall

  Roland glanced down when Sarah rested a hand on his thigh and looked up at him.

  “Maybe you should go see him,” she suggested.

  He gazed at her in disbelief. “What?”

  Reaching up with her free hand, she laced her fingers through his at her shoulder. “Who better for him to talk to? He’s going through the same thing you did, only on a larger scale. Maybe you could help him.”

  “You’re delirious, aren’t you?”

  She smiled, hazel eyes sparkling. “Come on, Roland, think about it. You were betrayed by your wife and brother. He was betrayed by his brother-in-law and best friend.”

  Seth held up a finger. “Who was the one who turned him, by the way. He told Sebastien it was an accident, that he hadn’t known feeding from him repeatedly would transform him, but—considering his other lies—I have my doubts.”

  “You see?” Sarah said as if that proved her point. “Then you were betrayed again by Mary. Bastien was betrayed by—what—seventy of his closest friends?”

  “What’s your point?” Roland asked, hardening his heart against the sympathy that threatened. It must be Sarah’s influence. Normally he wouldn’t have felt anything for Bastien but contempt.

  She rolled her eyes. “That you had Seth and Marcus to help you through it, unappreciative though you may have been, and Bastien probably feels like he has no one.”

  Roland glanced at Seth, who was watching him with a neutral expression. “I appreciated it,” he admitted.

  Seth shifted his gaze to Sarah. “You’re good for him.”

  She squeezed Roland’s thigh and tossed him a teasing glance. “I know.”

  “Actually, Roland, I agree. That’s one of the reasons I dropped by. I think it would help if you spoke with Sebastien.”

  “No. He hurt Sarah.”

  “It was unintentional and he regrets it. He expected her to come along docilely, not shoot him in the hamstrings and stab him in the ass.” He smiled at Sarah. “That made it to the message boards.”

  Roland was guilty of that one himself. When speculation had arisen on the boards regarding Sarah and the role she had played in the battle, he had posted a message for the first time ever, boasting of her quick thinking and bravery.

  “Please, Roland,” Sarah entreated, unfairly irresistible.

  “I’ll think about it,” he grumbled, knowing he’d cave in the end. He could deny her nothing. “You said that was one of the reasons you came by,” he told Seth before she could elicit a solid “yes” from him. “What was the other?”

  The older immortal was quiet for a moment. “Chris told me you took Sarah to the lab to have her blood tested.”

  Roland stiffened. Every immortal he had ever heard of had either been transformed forcibly against his or her will or accidentally, as Étienne and his brother, Richart, had been. If Sarah, against all the odds, turned out to be a gifted one, she would be the first to actually ask to be infected.

  Did Seth intend to forbid it?

  Roland’s heart thudded loudly in his ears. “And?”

  Seth focused on Sarah. “You wish to be transformed?”

  “Yes,” she answered somewhat nervously.

  “Why?”

  Her grip on Roland’s fingers tightened. “I want to be with Roland. Always.”

  “You love him that much?”

  “Yes.”

  “Has he explained the negative aspects of his existence?”

  “Yes.”

  Seth studied her intently.

  Too intently.

  “Stop reading her mind,” Roland snapped, wrapping his other arm around her protectively, as though that could stop it.

  Her eyes widened.

  Seth shrugged. “I had to be sure she understood, that she was certain.”

  “And?” he demanded shortly when Seth said no more.

  “She does and she is.” Scooping Nietzsche up, he rose, then lowered the sleepy feline to the cushion he had just vacated.

  Roland and Sarah rose as well.

  It was like waiting for a judge to hand down a sentence.

  Sarah’s arm crept around his waist. His tightened around her shoulders.

  One corner of Seth’s lips tilted up. “You need not wait for the lab results. She’s a gifted one.”

  For a moment, Roland couldn’t breathe. “What?”

  Seth smiled fully. “She’s a gifted one. I don’t need the blood test to be sure.”

  Sarah squealed and hugged Roland, jumping up and down until he laughed, though he was still afraid to believe it.

  “But she doesn’t have any gifts.”

  “Of course she does. Her dreams foretell the future.”

  Sarah stopped jumping and stared at Seth. “They do?” she asked incredulously, continuing to cling to Roland.

  “Yes, you simply haven’t learned to decipher them. Contrary to popular belief, prophetic dreams are only literal in the most powerful of the gifted ones and immortals. For the rest, there are symbols that must be learned and deciphered and the meaning of the dreams can be vague. For example, a week or so before you met Roland, you dreamed there was a large cockroach in your living room that you had difficulty killing. The living room represented daily activities, such as work. The cockroach, due to its size, represented a substantial irritation. The next day, your student went to the head of the department and lodged a complaint against you.”

  Which had been a major irritation, she thought.

  “A few days later you dreamed of tornadoes.”

  “I did,” she said, amazed. “It was like in that movie The Day After Tomorrow, when all the tornadoes spiraled down and hit Los Angeles. They were all around me. And one even seemed to be chasing me. It was terrifying.”

  “Tornadoes represent great emotional turmoil, danger, and, at times, death … all the things that accompanied Roland when he entered your life shortly thereafter.”

  Wow. She had never paid much attention to her dreams beyond wondering why so many people believed dreams only came in black and white when hers were always in vivid color.

  “I can aid you in learning how to interpret your dreams, if you wish.”

  Realizing her mouth was hanging open, Sarah hastily closed it. “That would be great. Thanks.” She looked up at Roland, who was frowning. “My dreams foretell the future.”

  “So I heard.” He grimaced. “Sorry about the turmoil, danger, and death thing.”

  She smiled. “It was worth it.”

  Roland looked to Seth. “What about the physical characteristics?”

  “They’ve begun to weaken a bit in the last century or so. Nothing dramatic. Dark brown hair instead of black. Hazel eyes instead of brown. Even those changes are still extremely rare.”

  “So I can be safely transformed?” Sarah pressed, just to be certain.

  “Yes.”

  Roland’s hold tightened. “You don’t object?”

  “This is Sarah’s decision to make, not mine. If she wishes you to transform her, you may do so whenever you choose.”

  Now that she knew it would happen, Sarah felt both excited and nervous.

  Seth’s features softened. “It won’t be too bad. Roland will drain you until you are near death, then infuse you with his own blood. You’ll feel like you have a bad case of the flu for a few days. Then all will be well.”

  He shifted his gaze to Roland. “You look as nervous as she does.”

  Sarah glanced up and had to agree.

  Roland’s lips tightened. “What if something goes wrong?”

  “It won’t. She’ll be fine. And I’m only a phone call away if you have any questions or concerns. I’ll leave her training up to you, if that’s all right.”

  They both nodded.

  “I should be going now. I need to stop by Seattle on my way home.”

  “Thank you, Seth,” Sarah said, “for everything.”

  He smiled. “You’re welcome.”

  An instant later, he was gone.

&
nbsp; Sarah smiled up at Roland. “I’m a gifted one.”

  “I know. I can’t believe it. But, Sarah …” He lightly clasped her upper arms and stared down at her, his expression earnest. “This doesn’t have to change anything. The fact that you can be transformed doesn’t mean you have to be. I don’t want you to feel you—”

  “I want you to transform me,” she interrupted.

  Extreme relief blanketing his features, he slid his arms around her, lifted her feet off the floor, and twirled her around. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

  She laughed and, wrapping her arms around his neck, hugged him back. “So you’re happy?”

  He nodded, his face buried in her hair. “I wouldn’t love you less if you said no. But, given the choice of spending either decades with you or centuries, I’d much rather have centuries.”

  “Me, too.”

  Setting her down, he drew back slightly and touched his lips to hers, first buoyantly, then tenderly.

  Her heart did a funny little skip when she met his faintly luminous eyes.

  “I love you, Sarah.”

  “I love you, too.” So much more than she had dreamed was possible.

  He kissed her again, held her close. “I’ll leave it up to you to decide when you’re ready.”

  “There’s no time like the present.”

  His face lit with surprise. “Now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She didn’t blame him. She had expressed, more than once, uneasiness over how quickly all this had happened. But she felt no such uneasiness now.

  “I’m sure. I’m not going to change my mind. And the longer we put it off, the more nervous we’ll both become.”

  His lips twisted ruefully. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

  “What? That you’re nervous?”

  “Yes.”

  She shrugged. “I would’ve known even if you’d hidden it. You’ve never transformed anyone before and you’re a tad obsessive when it comes to preventing me from experiencing any discomfort.” When his arms tightened and his face filled with dread, she patted his back comfortingly. “That look right there is why we need to go ahead and get it done. I know Seth said it’s like having the flu, but the longer we put it off, the more we’re both going to imagine it being worse.”

  He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You’re right. Now it is, then.”

  Thump.

  Roland’s head snapped around at the odd noise that came from the kitchen. Eyes flaring, fangs descending, he was gone before Sarah even finished tensing.

  “It’s all right,” he called a second later. “Come and see.”

  Curious, she strode to the kitchen and paused just inside the entrance.

  The largest gift basket she had ever seen sat in the middle of the floor. Decked with ribbons and bows, it was so large that if the contents were removed, she could curl up in it like a cat and take a nap.

  “It’s for us,” Roland pronounced, opening a white envelope.

  “Who’s it from?”

  As he pulled out a folded sheet of paper, she moved closer and began to pick through the basket’s contents.

  “It’s from David.”

  There were several enormous bags of organic oranges so fragrant they made her mouth water, bottles of club soda, all-natural crackers sprinkled with sea salt, icy gel packs….

  “Seth must have told him I’m going to transform you. David says you’ll have difficulty keeping food down for a couple of days, but fresh-squeezed orange juice and club soda will help.”

  “And crackers?”

  “Crackers and pita chips.”

  Sure enough, there were several bags of super-crunchy baked pita chips with sea salt included.

  Had David known it was her favorite brand or had it simply been a lucky guess?

  She looked at Roland.

  His eyes had lost their glow and were once more brown, his expression just this side of stunned.

  “This is really nice,” Sarah said, a little stunned herself. David didn’t even know her and had only encountered Roland a few times, yet he’d opened up his home to them, told them they could stay as long as they wanted to, and now this?

  Roland nodded slowly. “It is.”

  She smiled. It was going to take him awhile to get used to having friends rather than acquaintances. “Let’s put the soda and the oranges in the fridge and get the gel packs in the freezer.”

  There was so much it took them several minutes to finish.

  “So,” she broached when they were done, “how are we going to do this?”

  She was nervous. She didn’t want to be but couldn’t help it.

  He swooped down and picked her up, one arm supporting her back, the other under her knees. “First, I will carry you to our bedroom.”

  “Ooh,” she crooned, wrapping her arms around his neck as he left the kitchen and put action to words. “I like it so far.”

  “Then … I’m going to place you on our bed.”

  She nuzzled his neck and felt a shiver ripple through him. “Go on.”

  “Peel your clothing off with my teeth.”

  Her body melted at his words as he descended into the basement and made his way to their bedroom. “What next?”

  “Make a slow exploration of your body with my tongue.”

  His tongue, she thought as he crossed to the bed. His wicked, wicked tongue. “And then?”

  “And then,” he said, placing her gently atop the covers, “as your body clenches in one of the many orgasms I intend to give you”—he knelt on the mattress beside her, leaned over her, kissed the base of her neck where her pulse hammered just beneath the surface—“I will bite you right here and make you mine forever.”

  She arched against him when he drew his tongue across her skin. “Mmm. Don’t forget the stripping me with your teeth part.”

  He chuckled, a warm, growly sound that sent excitement skittering through her. “I wouldn’t dare.”

  Roland was true to his word. With teeth, tongue, and hands, he aroused Sarah to a fevered pitch, distancing himself from his own desire and gently rebuffing her attempts to pleasure him, too. It was imperative that he keep a clear head, which meant ignoring his own needs and focusing solely on hers.

  And, as her body writhed in orgasm for the third time, he gently sank his teeth into her throat and, exalting in the life that flowed into his body, devoured her like the monster he had so often been named.

  Chapter 19

  Okay, clearly Seth had never had the flu.

  The first day of the transformation was about what Sarah had expected. Once she had regained consciousness (she had passed out while Roland was drinking from her and had no memory of him biting her), she had gradually begun to feel unwell. Mild fever. Chills. Nausea that was sometimes assuaged by the orange juice and club soda and other times brought it right back up again.

  She had tried to keep Roland from following her into the bathroom (there were just some things she’d rather he not see her do, and vomiting was one of them), but he insisted and she rapidly grew too weak to prevent it. So he held her hair for her, physically supported her when she needed it, loaded up her toothbrush with toothpaste once her stomach had emptied itself, and when her mouth was minty fresh again, carried her back to bed.

  He brought a television and a DVD player down to their room, played cards with her, read to her, regaled her with tales of his amazing past. He squeezed dozens of oranges, made sure she had plenty of fluids, soothed her aching head with gel pack after gel pack.

  He was wonderful. Patient. Had an excellent bedside manner.

  It made her love him all the more.

  Then everything sort of … deteriorated on the second day. Her fever rose. And rose. Things got pretty hazy after that. Sarah later recalled very little of it. Just flashes here and there of Roland’s worried face peering down at her as he urged her to drink more juice. Hearing him shout flu my ass! and if y
ou aren’t here in five fucking seconds … ! Being submerged in an ice bath with Roland’s big body behind her, his arms locked around her, both supporting her and restraining her as she thrashed about, his choked voice in her ear, murmuring over and over again that he loved her. A man with the darkest skin she had ever seen, dreadlocks down to his hips and the face of a pharaoh leaning over them.

  There followed a large block of nothingness, during which her fever evidently broke. Midway through day three, she awoke lucid, her stomach settled, with a massive toothache.

  Roland, who was slumped in a chair by the bed with one of her hands clutched in his, looked more haggard than she had ever seen him. His cheeks and chin were coated with dark stubble. New creases lined his forehead and bracketed his mouth.

  His relief when she squeezed his hand and gave him a weak smile was heartbreaking. Climbing into bed, he spooned up behind her, buried his face in her hair, and hugged the stuffing out of her for at least half an hour.

  “You scared the hell out of me,” he whispered brokenly.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

  His lips brushed the back of her neck. “I love you, Sarah.” He pressed closer, as though he would burrow beneath her skin if he could. “I love you so much.”

  Smiling, she closed her eyes as drowsiness slunk through her. “I love you, too.”

  * * *

  Seth and David were in the kitchen, preparing dinner, when they sensed Darnell’s approach. David paused in the midst of basting the organic Cornish hens. The knife Seth was applying to several carrots for a salad stopped slicing.

  Both felt their human friend’s emotions fluctuating wildly and exchanged a concerned glance before turning toward the entrance.

  When Darnell filled the doorway, he was carrying a sheaf of printed papers and looked shell-shocked.

  “What is it?” David asked, setting aside his spoon and wiping his hands on a nearby towel.

  Darnell’s throat worked as he swallowed audibly. “I finally managed to decrypt the files on one of the laptops you stole when you rescued Amiriska.”

  The mystery woman had finally disclosed her name when she had awakened after sleeping for nearly two days.

  Seth abandoned the knife and carrots as Darnell approached them. “And?”