Vampire Encounters - Second Chances

by T. D. McKinney

  She had felt Cole’s thought processes and followed every one of them easily. Like Cole, Sam was sure that they were alive only because Falcon was curious about why Cole had run. Falcon hadn’t lied when she said she hated a mystery. She’d keep them around until she got her answers, or until she became so tired of asking without getting what she wanted that she couldn’t take it any more. Once either of those events happened, she’d have no further use for Sam...and probably none for Cole either.

  She’ll keep me around a while. Cole promised Sam. She’ll want to punish me. She won’t be able to stomach my preference for someone else.

  Sam nodded. The seed of fear that had been planted when Sam had looked into Falcon’s glacial eyes sprouted. It increased her anger. Sam hated being afraid.

  I won’t allow her to hurt you. My chance will come or I’ll make one, he assured her. I will get us out of this.

  Sam nodded again though she didn’t see how such a thing was likely to happen. But she’d underestimated the divine powers that Cole kept insisting had brought her to him. It seemed they were still looking out for Cole’s interests. They sent him his chance only a few minutes later.

  As they sped up a twisting canyon road, a car traveling in the opposite direction rounded a blind curve half in their lane. Their driver swerved abruptly to avoid a head-on collision. The car swayed alarmingly, throwing the occupants against the seatbelts hard enough to bruise. Running half along the shoulder, the Lexus plowed through a small pile of debris. Sam jumped as a tire exploded and the ride turned rough and violent. The guard in the back with them was thrown against the door with enough force to disorient him. A stinging right cross from Cole’s hard fist left the man slumped insensible against the cushions, his head bobbing loosely as the car rocked and shook.

  The driver was too busy trying to hold the speeding car steady to worry about what was happening in the backseat. His hands fought the madly jerking wheel while he cursed loudly. His compatriot in the front tried valiantly to steady himself and bring his gun to bear on Cole despite the gyrations of the automobile.

  Sam shrieked as a shot ran out and the back glass shattered, sprinkling her with thick glass. She threw her hands over her head as Cole dived at the gunman. The guard screamed and Sam felt Cole’s satisfaction as the mortal’s wrist broke beneath her lover’s strong fingers. The gunman screamed louder and higher than Sam had, but quickly joined his partner in unconsciousness, thanks to a well-placed punch from Cole’s fist.

  The driver, valiantly trying to hold the swaying auto and process what was happening around him, overcompensated for the flat tire and sent the vehicle completely across the road and off the other side.

  The seatbelt locked, holding Sam tightly in place as the car careened across the shoulder of the road. The soil was soft and the car spun slightly. Cole threw himself across Sam, further protecting her as the Lexus slid sideways down the embankment and into a stand of trees. It finally came to rest with a painful lurch with the driver’s side door against a large oak. The airbag had deployed, but the driver’s head had hit the side window hard enough to leave him moaning and half-unaware. Cole quickly made sure he joined his companions in unconsciousness.

  Sam moaned a bit herself as Cole popped the release on the seatbelt and reached across her to open the door. He had to push and then push again harder than before to get the hinge to brace and lock it open. Sam would have tumbled out if he hadn’t been holding her steady. He half-pushed her from the car, holding her waist as he climbed out with her. She stumbled from the wreck and leaned against the back quarter panel of the car, disoriented and shaky. It took all her concentration to remain on her feet.

  Cole cradled her face in his hands for a moment, reaching out with his mind to make sure she wasn’t hurt. His thoughts steadied hers and she was able to take a quick inventory of her state, to begin to think again.

  Even with her mental assurance that she wasn’t bleeding and nothing was broken, he still insisted on running his hands over her. His concern flooded her thoughts, erasing all the emotions that had been there before. All his thoughts were for her safety and well-being. He had to be certain the glass from the shattered window hadn’t cut her and that the wreck hadn’t injured her. Reassured, he still ran his fingers through her hair, combing out any glass that might linger.

  Finally sure that Sam was shaken and bruised but otherwise okay, Cole tucked his captured gun under his belt buckle and dove back into the car. He surfaced with both the other guard’s gun and the driver’s. He tucked one gun in back of his waistband and pulled his shirt over both the one in front and the one behind. Then he pushed the remaining weapon under the waistband of Sam’s jeans and hid it the same way. It felt cold and uncomfortable at the small of her back, but she knew she’d soon get used to it. It wasn’t the first time she’d carried a pistol there.

  Satisfied that he’d done what he could for the moment, he simply pulled her to him and held her close. His thanksgiving for their safety and freedom flowed through Sam. She held him tightly and tried to ease the racing of her heart. She stifled an irrational urge to cry. Crying wouldn’t help anything

  When Cole dipped his head and pressed his lips to hers, she welcomed his kiss with every particle of her being. She found that she needed his touch as much as he needed hers.

  Cole allowed them only a few moments to recover before he led Sam away from the wreck.

  “We can’t fight Falcon alone,” Cole said. “She’s furious now, and that will double when she finds out we’ve escaped. This time, she won’t hesitate to kill us if she finds us. And she won’t stop searching for us. She’s amazingly tenacious; she’ll keep coming after us.”

  He helped Sam climb the embankment back up to the road. The dry clumps of grass scratched Sam’s palms but they gave her enough leverage to make the climb only moderately difficult. Cole’s voice was implacable as he helped her ascend the steep embankment. “I have no wish to live the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, wondering when Falcon will appear. More importantly, I won’t have you in constant danger from her.”

  Gaining the road again, he looked left and right, orienting himself. There was no sign of the car that had caused the accident. Likely, the driver had not seen them leave the road, and had no idea the incident was anything more than a near miss.

  “We need help. And as Fate would have it, we are only a mile or so from Wynn’s gate. If nothing else, we’ll be able to call for a cab from there and collect the Maybach.” He looked up at the star-filled sky. “But I’ve a better idea. If I’m lucky, we’ll be able to make him see reason and he’ll finally exert sufficient influence over Falcon to stop her. It’s time he took his daughter in hand.” He held out his hand to lead Sam down the dark canyon road. “Come, let’s go have a bit of a talk with my brother.”

  * * * *

  “Don’t you get it; you’re a character from a vampire novel,” Samantha repeated for the fourth time. “You’re words on a page. You are not real, Wynn.” She looked to Cole for help. “Well, not to me.”

  Cole shrugged. “I’ve always said Wynn has no imagination.” At her frown of displeasure, he held up his hands as if warding off a blow from both Sam and Wynnston Matthews. “All right! No need to look daggers at me.”

  She rolled her eyes. Look daggers at him? Did he have to talk like a bad piece of fiction?

  She thought for a moment. Well, considering that like Wynn he was a fictional character lifted straight from a book, she supposed it was mandatory he sound as though he was reading from the pages of The Vampire Encounters. He just seemed to be doing it more tonight than he normally did. Or maybe she just hadn’t noticed him speaking in quite so flowery and baroque a fashion lately. And then again, maybe it was indicative of how wrapped up in him she was. More and more recently, she forgot he wasn’t real. Lately, he was the only thing that seemed real.

  She sighed. Why hadn’t they run for Hong Kong when they had the chance?

  She glanced at Cole�
��s grin and frowned, unimpressed and rather annoyed by his levity. He’d preached nothing for the last month but how much danger they were in and now he was making jokes! And with Wynn of all people! Not only was Wynn notoriously lacking in humor but he’d been the one to pass a death sentence on Cole. If she wasn’t so exhausted, she’d drag Cole out of the room by one of his perfectly-shaped ears and hide him somewhere safe.

  Tibet came to mind.

  She shot a look of entreaty at Cole but he either didn’t see it or was ignoring her. She didn’t want to be here and she didn’t want to talk to Cole’s brother. She had no wish to try and explain the situation to anyone, least of all to Wynnston Matthews. She was tired, she hurt all over, and she wanted to take Cole home, wrap herself around him, and stay there for about a week. Where that home was didn’t matter. Home was wherever she and Cole could be alone and safe. Why wasn’t he calling for that damned fancy car of his so they could leave?

  The entreaty turned to a glower. After all, this was his idea. And if ever there was a bad idea, this was it. So how come she was the one stuck explaining the impossible to Wynn? Cole was the one who insisted they confess everything to Wynn.

  She sighed. Well, almost everything. They’d agreed that some information was best left just between the two of them.

  Her head hurt again, and she was getting that disconnected feeling she hated so much. She felt as though she was watching a movie and knowing the people on the screen were screwing up but wasn’t able to stop them. She knew what was wrong. They shouldn’t be talking to Wynn; they should be running for their lives. They should be headed back into hiding.

  She didn’t care that Wynn was supposedly Cole’s best friend and brother in blood. There was something about Wynn that kept her from trusting him. She didn’t feel secure explaining to Wynn what she had been doing since she found herself in his world. She hadn’t liked Wynn when she first read about him and meeting him hadn’t changed her opinion.

  Wynn was a Heathcliff-style icon if ever there was one. The classic tortured hero types never appealed to Sam. On top of her dislike for gothic brooding, she had a feeling that for all his protests and soul-searching, Wynn only really cared about Wynn.

  In all of the novels there was an undercurrent, regardless of plot, that brought a frown to her face and dissatisfaction to her heart. It all had to do with the way she interpreted his motives. Wynn always seemed to be looking out for Wynn first. On the surface he seemed the hero but underneath—well it was the underneath that concerned her.

  He didn’t really see other people as individuals. He might worry about humanity as a whole but he had no empathy for each separate person. He was too busy agonizing over the state of his own life to worry about how Sam or anyone else might feel. He would whine and waffle ad nauseum about the state of his life and whether being a vampire kept him from true love, but he seldom discussed how the members of his family felt except in relation to himself.

  His relationship with Cole was a perfect example. As far as she’d read, he had few, if any, friends. There were followers and acolytes aplenty, but no real friends—except Cole. And look how that had turned out. The first time Cole really stood up for what he thought was right and defied Wynn, Cole had been exiled from the family.

  Sam just couldn’t work up a lot of faith that Wynn would have any inclination to help them now. Or forgive Cole for what he might have done in another reality if Wynn ever found out about it.

  The gaze Wynn now turned on Cole, concentrated and intense but completely lacking in warmth, confirmed her suspicions. She could see no compassion in his cool blue eyes. There was calculation and a good bit of semi-understandable confusion but no sympathy. She shivered slightly. His expression was too similar to the one Falcon had when she’d calmly informed Cole that she intended to slit Sam’s throat and watch Sam bleed to death. Falcon had just stood there with a knife in her hand and a chill smile on her lips, staring at Cole with fierce interest in his reaction, hoping to see him flinch. That same smile rested on Wynn’s lips now. It made Sam shudder. Wynn was every bit as cold as his daughter; he just hid it better.

  Sam could never figure out why he was the hero of the series instead of Cole Grayson. So Cole’s morals were a little gray—Okay, a lot gray at times—he was still infinitely more interesting and appealing than Wynn and a far better person at heart.

  Unfortunately, right now her interesting, appealing, and better-at-heart vampire was not being helpful.

  “Just explain it to him again, please?” she requested. She felt too tired to do anything else. She couldn’t even work up the energy to be really annoyed with Cole. Not that she would be able to maintain her annoyance even if she wasn’t bone-tired and ready to collapse. It was impossible for her to stay upset at Cole. All he had to do was look at her with those amazing lavender eyes and she forgot everything else. It was pathetic how easily he could wind her around his finger with a glance, a word, or—God help her—a single touch. One brush of those slender, elegant fingers across her cheek or along her throat, and she melted.

  It was understandable; he was designed to make women melt, after all. The author of The Vampire Encounters had written him as impossible to resist if you were the sort of woman who was attracted to his type. And Sam was definitely attracted to his type. The dark, dangerous anti-hero always got to Sam far more than the tortured good guy. That and Cole’s Byronic “mad, bad, and dangerous to know” air had originally drawn her to him more than the more goody-good Wynn. Now that she knew and loved him, her resistance to his charm was zero.

  He might be nothing more than a hallucination she was having thanks to a blow to the head while reading a paperback, but he was a lovely, dear, sweet hallucination. And she wasn’t sure she could stand it if something happened to him. The knot in her stomach was for him far more than it was for herself. The anger slowly twisting a cord across her chest was building for him. Wynn was a danger to Cole and Sam had reached the conclusion that dangers to her darling love were simply unacceptable.

  Without further consideration, she promised herself that if Wynn hurt Cole, Sam would stomp his blond hero ass right into the ground. Vampire or not, she’d find a way to take him out. Wynn had hurt Cole enough. As tired as she was, barely able to keep her eyes open against sheer exhaustion, she’d find a way to keep Cole safe.

  Cole paused in his recitation to allow Wynn to ask some question or the other and took the opportunity to smile at her. Never had a man’s smile affected her as powerfully as Cole’s always did. She fought the urge to tell Wynn she didn’t need him in the least. She wanted to take one of Wynn’s fancy cars and run off to Mexico so she could molest Cole in safety and peace. It was very tempting; especially since that astounding creature would actually let her have her wicked way with him in any fashion she could think up. And she could come up with several different ways she’d like to molest him without really thinking too hard. If there was ever a fictional person she could be happy spending the rest of her life with, it was Cole Grayson.

  In fact, she intended to do just that. The silver ring on her finger might be just a cheap trinket from a sideshow booth, but it was enough of an engagement ring for her. It was more than her daddy had ever managed to give her mama. Sam didn’t need gold or platinum to know that she loved Cole and he loved her. She just needed to get out of Wynn’s museum of a house and somewhere far away with Cole. If only her head was clearer and she could think quietly for a little while, she’d figure it out.

  Between her exhaustion and Cole’s fingers tracing circles on the back of her hand, she found her attention repeatedly drifting from the conversation. As Cole’s cool, rich voice related their tale to Wynn yet again she could tell Wynn was still finding the concept very difficult to grasp. She couldn’t really blame him; even Sam admitted it was an insane idea.

  And Wynn didn’t accept change easily. Wynn’s intelligence was more than moderate, but his thought processes were too constrained. As Cole said, Wynn lacked imaginat
ion. In this as in almost everything else, he was Cole’s polar opposite—psychologically, morally, even physically, they were as different as they could be. Anti-hero versus hero, she thought again with a faint smile. Dark, devilish, restless, kind spirit versus overly noble, golden, supposed knight in shining armor.

  The only trait they shared was their attractiveness. Though not her type at all, Sam had to admit Wynn was as handsome in his way as Cole was in his. Though no taller than Cole, Wynn had a much heavier build, muscular and strong with a broad chest and powerful arms and thighs. He looked as though he could easily break the darker man in half. If Cole was all lithe panther grace, Wynn was bear-like strength and bulk. His strongly sculpted face was purely masculine with a hawkish nose, heavy brow, and a generous mouth. His deep-set eyes were so clear a blue his author frequently compared them to a summer sky. They stood out against his pale skin and burnished golden hair and drew you to gaze into their cerulean depths. The author of The Vampire Encounters made much of how soulful his eyes were. Now that Sam had actually seen them, she had to disagree. Much as that description made sense on the surface, she was more forcibly reminded of a frozen winter lake than a warm June sky. Her concerns about his true motivations and empathy aside, she couldn’t deny that Wynn was just as heart-stoppingly gorgeous as Cole. There was no doubt that however much author Marie Desiree’s imagination might run to somewhat flowery prose, she certainly could invent lovely men.

  Sam was drawn from her contemplation of the two men by Wynn’s next question. Addressed directly to her, she had not choice but to answer him regardless of how tired and disconnected from the world she felt.

  “I have no idea how I actually ended up here, but I think it has something to do with my job,” she answered slowly. She didn’t want to tell Wynn anything but the bare facts, not that she knew much more than that. Something in the way he was staring at Cole gave her the raging heebie-jeebies. The urge to grab Cole, run away, and hide somewhere far from Wynn Matthews was growing stronger.