Shadowing the Beast

by Beyond the Page Publishing

  A bright flame would flicker in the fireplace, warming the room, heating his blood. He’d take her, lift her onto the huge four-poster bed where his life had begun so long ago. For a long time he’d sit beside her, stroking her pale golden skin, tracing each delicate angle of her bones, following his caresses with the gentlest nips of his fangs, the soothing balm of his tongue.

  When she writhed against him, overtaken by passion, he’d kneel between her legs and enter her gently, for she was precious to him. But she wouldn’t want gentle for long. Her nails would dig into his back. Her little open-mouthed kisses would turn to demanding bites to his shoulders, neck and lips.

  He’d answer her in kind, with harder strokes, wilder kisses, rougher stimulation of her most sensitive flesh. He’d claim her. Make her his, forever in the darkness of the night. His for all time.

  Pressure built inside him, demanding release. Driven by emotion, not reason, Stefan bent his head to the enticing vein that throbbed beneath the silken skin of her throat.

  “Stefan, the music has stopped.” Julie looked at him and smiled, the smile of a woman who knew she had stolen a vampire’s soul.

  That look of utter adoration made him pause, raise his head. He forced himself to remember that look on Tina’s face and to recall how she’d looked afterward, her lifeblood drained. Still and pale in eternal death, lying in her coffin in a silk and velvet gown, empire-waisted like the ones Napoleon’s empress always wore. The brand-new dress Stefan had commissioned from a local seamstress that was to have been Tina’s wedding gown. “Yes, my darling, the music has stopped.”

  No matter how much they both wanted it, he wouldn’t take the risk of that happening to Julie.

  Chapter Thirteen

  She’d almost gotten exactly what she wanted. But she realized now that she couldn’t entice Stefan to turn her in a haze of vampire passion. If there was to be a lifetime commitment between them, it must be a mutual, rational decision.

  As she must with the impending confrontation with Reynard, she had to have faith in the outcome. Goodness and love had to prevail, and if evil should defeat them, she’d hardly be around to worry about it. When Stefan motioned for Alex and Claude to join them at their table, she put on a happy face, smiling despite the uncertainties of her future—and her life.

  “Tell me about some of the people here. Please.” If she sounded a bit desperate, if Alex and Claude’s striking green eyes were too knowing, Stefan’s too full of concern, they wouldn’t say anything about it. They’d pledged to take care of her, and she trusted that they would.

  Alex leaned back in the booth, stretching a companionable arm behind her, winking at her when Stefan scowled. “Let’s let Claude tell you about the old guy over there. Come on, Claude, I see you trying to stifle a grin.” Alex looked toward a May–December couple fawning over each other in a darkened corner.

  Even in the dim light, Julie saw Claude’s sheepish expression. “I couldn’t,” he said.

  “It’s all right, Claude. I promise not to take offense.” Stefan turned to Julie, squeezed her hand. “Claude sees the source of a legend that’s caused us all some embarrassment over the years. Since that source was my only sister, I’ve been known to take offense when the tale is told with too much relish.”

  Claude looked first at Alex, then at Stefan. “You’re sure you don’t mind?”

  “Positive.” Stefan’s tone was indulgent.

  Clearing his throat, Claude leaned back in his chair like the other two men, apparently endeavoring to appear equally relaxed. “Over in the corner with a luscious dhampir beauty, you see the Count of Sainte-Germain. According to the tales I’ve heard, he was turned in eighteenth-century France when he began to approach old age, but no one knows for sure which vampire did the deed.”

  “Come on, Claude, I’m sure Julie wants to hear the whole story,” Stefan said, a twinkle in his eyes.

  Claude didn’t seem too sure of that, but he managed a weak grin. “All right. According to legend, the count became a vampire at the hands—or rather the fangs—of a d’Argent black sheep.”

  “A black ewe, don’t you mean?” Alex asked, chuckling.

  Claude glanced at Stefan, apparently hesitant to say more. “Of course you’re right.” He turned to Julie, a shy grin on his face. “It was Stefan’s half sister, Marie-Louise.”

  “Well, come on, don’t hold back all the gory details.” Stefan was obviously trying to put the diffident young vampire at ease.

  It seemed to be working because the worried look on Claude’s face began to fade and he spoke with increasing confidence. “It was a cold winter night in Paris. The year was 1705, and the court was frolicking at Versailles. The Sun King’s rule was slowly coming to a close. Marie-Louise was one of the court’s most sought-after ladies, for as all vampires do . . .”

  Claude paused, shot a knowing glance Stefan’s way. “She possessed enormous sexual appeal. She also had a voracious appetite for lovemaking, as well as a nasty habit of seducing mortals and changing them, often against their wills. Marie-Louise took a fancy to the Count of Sainte-Germain, even though in mortal years he was close to death. The way Maman tells it, Marie-Louise seduced the elderly count, turned him and consigned him to a life-in-death of wandering after she died a few months later.”

  “What happened to Marie-Louise?” Julie didn’t recall Stefan having mentioned having a sister, in fact she had the distinct impression he’d been an only child.

  “She seduced him, turned him, and became his mistress, only to be staked and destroyed by the count’s infuriated daughter. The woman was afraid her inheritance would be compromised if Marie-Louise bore him a son.”

  “If it had been me, I’d have chosen another way. To stake such a lovely breast . . .” Alex shook his head, as though the mere idea were unthinkable.

  “Crass pig,” Stefan said mildly.

  “But what other way is there?” Julie asked, curious despite herself.

  Stefan stroked her hand. “Staking is one almost certain way of destroying a vampire. Almost certain, because the stake must be driven squarely through the vampire’s heart. Two surer methods are carving out the heart or beheading, neither of which is easy to do unless the would-be victim has already been staked.”

  Julie couldn’t hold back the little cry that escaped her lips. “I’ve always heard vampires would burn if exposed to sunlight. Or die if someone shot them with silver bullets.”

  Alex laughed. “Those are legends, not fact. I tried the silver bullet route with Reynard. Just ended a two-month convalescence for my fruitless attempt to end his evildoing. Sunlight toasts some vampires but not as thoroughly as you might imagine. First the vampire hunter must lure a highly sun-sensitive villain into the sun and stake him there, because it takes many hours for the sun to do its job.”

  “Some even say vampires will die if drenched with garlic-laced holy water, or if a killer steals the sock off a vampire’s left foot,” Claude put in.

  “His left sock?” Julie liked the young vampire, who obviously held his much older nephews in high regard.

  “Yes. There are countless myths as to how best to destroy vampires.” Stefan paused, laid a hand on Julie’s knee. “And then there are the folk tales of how one may identify a vampire, such as his or her irresistible sex appeal. It’s also been said that vampires are repelled by roses, but we all know that in Reynard’s case, this is not true. Actually, I like roses myself, as long as they’re not white. Many of the myths are based on what’s true for one vampire or a vampire clan. Born vampires are less susceptible than made ones to the more exotic methods of detection and destruction.”

  Alex chimed in when Stefan paused. “Let’s see. All vampires have fangs, some more prominent than others, much like mortals have teeth but some are straighter than others. Not many of us have an appetite for what mortals eat or the ability to eat it, and those who do still must feed regularly on fresh blood—but Claude here can manage to feed on raw red meat instead, if ne
ed be. I guess all of us could sustain ourselves that way if we had to, but I’ve never tried it.” Alex paused, gestured discreetly at the couple on the dance floor. “I’ll bet the male over there belongs to the Sainte-Benedict clan. See his red eyes?”

  If Julie had her way, she’d have a long, long lifetime to learn vampire facts and legends. Right now, though, she wanted to spend what might be her last hours with Stefan—alone. “So I couldn’t count on repelling all vampires by putting on a crucifix or using garlic juice for my perfume?” she said, trying to push down the selfish thought and match the lighthearted tone her companions had set.

  “No. For you I’d risk burning—that’s what the crucifix is supposed to do to vampires—and I’d learn to love the stench of garlic.” Alex took her hand and brought it to his lips while Stefan rolled his eyes. “Tell me you’re not so besotted with Stefan that I don’t stand a chance.”

  “Hands off, cousin. The lady is mine. Until the Fox no longer threatens her.” Stefan looked toward Julie, and when their gazes met and locked, she realized he might have read her mind. Or perhaps it was simply what he wanted too, to be alone with her for what perhaps would be their last night together. “Come,” he said, his voice deep with desire. “We all need our rest if we are to face our enemy in the morning.”

  The lady is mine. If only Stefan hadn’t qualified that declaration. Julie managed a smile, then stood and waited for her escorts to surround her in the cocoon of their protection.

  On the way home, the sliver of a moon seemed smaller, as though moving even now toward the crescent—toward her demise unless Stefan and his friends could prevent it. Suddenly she felt chilled, though the night was unseasonably warm.

  • • •

  Though Julie tried, she hadn’t shaken the sense of melancholy—not fear, for she trusted Stefan and his clansmen to protect her—but a deep sadness that portended imminent loss and loneliness.

  Despite their connection at the club, Stefan had withdrawn from her once they were out of its ambience and back at her home, the arena where their last confrontation with Reynard would come. Even now he sat at her kitchen table with Alex and Claude, apparently discussing the strategy they’d use to defeat their enemy. She’d wanted to stay with them, but Stefan had shooed her off to bed as though she were a child who must be sheltered from the fight that was to come.

  While she appreciated his understanding that she wouldn’t enjoy hearing all the gory details, in the back of her mind she realized Stefan would draw out the meeting with his fellow hunters because he feared being alone with her tonight.

  She desperately needed him here, with her. She needed him in her bed. Staring at the rumpled covers Stefan had kicked away this afternoon, she pictured him there. Magnificently naked, fully aroused, holding out his arms . . . holding her. Skimming his large hands over her body. Making love to her as only he could.

  She’d stroke his broad, muscular chest, loving the cool, satiny feel of his skin under her seeking fingers. Slowly at first, then faster as he became fully aroused, his heart would start to beat perceptibly. His sex would grow and harden, and she’d kneel and take him in her mouth, licking and sucking as he groaned with pleasure. She longed to consume him, claim him.

  He’d tremble with the effort of holding back, and he’d make her give up her prize. He’d lay her back on the bed and take her, claim her every way a man could claim a woman, until she was limp from coming. Then he’d give her a vampire kiss.

  And make her his own for all eternity. Julie imagined the sting of his fangs, the ecstasy of surrender, the joy of waking later in his arms, transformed.

  But he wasn’t here. And she believed him when he’d said he wouldn’t turn her. The bed she’d loved when she bought it now seemed too large. Too empty. Too full of memories.

  Memories she wouldn’t let him steal. Julie stood, took her sketchbook and sat on the chaise by the window. If he left, she’d always cherish the look of wonder that had crossed his handsome face when he’d seen the portrait of himself for the first time. She’d remember the exuberance with which he’d played with Noodles on her patio. Most of all, she’d hold on to the myriad emotions he’d coaxed from her, from the moment he’d risked his life to save her dog.

  Stefan had stolen her heart. She wasn’t about to let him give it back. Some way, somehow, she’d find a way to mitigate his fear. She’d follow him to his world, make it her world too. Her heart wouldn’t let her walk away, not when there were so many things they hadn’t done together, so many experiences she longed for them to share.

  Before Julie saw Stefan she sensed his presence, felt the welcome coolness of his fingers when he laid them against her collarbones and rubbed in a light, circular motion. He wasn’t breathing now, or his exhalations would have tickled the sensitive spot where the back of her neck met the base of her skull.

  With him touching her like this, the moon seemed to grow brighter. The vanilla scent of the candle she’d lit earlier became richer, fuller. In the silence of the night she heard their heartbeats—his slow, hers racing as she became aroused by no more than the nearness of her vampire lover. Her only love.

  She turned, lured more by him than by the moon. Lifting her hands, she touched his cheeks, tracing the high cheekbones, the strong jaw. Though she’d switched off the lamp in favor of candlelight and darkness shadowed his face, she saw his features clearly in her mind. “You must never steal my memories,” she whispered, dragging him to her so she could savor the smoothness of his lips on hers.

  He stirred against her belly, strong, insistent. Knowing he wanted her made her inner muscles contract, and she grew damp with anticipation. She reached between them and stroked him, enjoyed a heady sense of power when his balls tightened and his cock grew even larger and harder beneath her fingers.

  “Stefan, please. I want you to make love with me.”

  As though she’d stolen his will to resist, he sighed, lifted her and laid her on the bed. Slowly, as though he relished the unveiling as much as the prize within, he unbuttoned her robe. He bent over her, brushing his lips over each inch of skin he uncovered. “You will have your sketches, my darling, but I’ll take this with me—the sweet smell and taste of you, the sounds of your pleasure when you come.”

  He slid the robe off her shoulders and raked her from head to toe with his beautiful sea-green eyes. “No day will ever dawn without me remembering you. Wanting you.” He paused, as though struggling to regain the self-control she wished he’d relinquish just this once. “Never doubt I love you. I can’t bear imagining my life without you in it.” His expression bleak, he stood, his gaze steady on her as he took off his clothes and came back to her. “This is for now. To leave us both with memories you’ll someday wish you had let me erase.”

  Making memories. Julie concentrated, not wanting to miss a single sensation. The cool yet incredibly arousing touch of Stefan’s smooth satiny skin on hers, the taste of his smooth, clean flesh on her lips. The solid weight of his ridged belly against her softer flesh attested that he was real, not some erotic figment of her imagination. Her skin prickled with sensation when he swept his hands along her arms, her shoulders, when he stroked the column of her throat and cupped her jaw.

  Wanting more, she opened her legs farther, inviting him in.

  He shifted, bringing the heat of his cock to her center, barely joining them. “Wrap your legs around me.” The order was no more than a whisper against her lips, but when she complied, he surged forward, filling her completely.

  How could the rest of him feel so cool while his shaft seared her with its heat? Slowly he withdrew, only to thrust into her again. Each time his strokes grew deeper, harder, more intense. Scorching, as the passion between them spread like wildfire. His pubic bone stimulated her clit. The pressure inside her built, spread . . . She was about to come, but she wanted to make him come first.

  Tightening her inner muscles, she milked him hard, spurred on by the ecstatic moans that escaped his mouth. His muscles
tensed, reminding her of his strength, her helplessness in his arms. The arms of her beloved vampire.

  His mouth opened, flashing fangs.

  Yes. He was going to do it. Julie arched her back, giving him better access to her vulnerable throat. She squeezed his cock harder, moved beneath him, with him. Waves of incredible pleasure washed over her when he let go, bathed her womb in hot, staccato bursts that spread throughout her body.

  “I love you,” she gasped when she felt his fangs graze the sensitive skin of her throat. “Yes, Stefan. Do it. Bite me now. Make me yours.” She closed her eyes, let her orgasm take her while somewhere deep within her mind she anticipated quick, sharp twin pains. A time in limbo. Her eventual rebirth as his vampire mate.

  But he jerked his head away. “I love you too.” He sounded tired . . . drained . . . and infinitely sad. For a long time he held her, his head cradled against her breasts.

  A tear dampened her skin. And then another. Vampire tears.

  Julie ran her fingers through Stefan’s dark, shiny hair, as though that might soothe his pain away. “You know, I should hate you for refusing to give me what I want more than anything. But I can’t help loving you.”

  • • •

  Early the next morning Julie dressed, leaving Stefan sleeping until she was ready to take Noodles for her walk. He looked so peaceful, she hated to wake him—but then, she knew he needed the time to set a trap for Louis.

  Still, she sat on the edge of the bed for a long time, watching him, wishing . . . No, it wasn’t the time for indulging in wistful fantasies. Not now, when they soon would have to face a killer. “Good morning,” she murmured, bending to plant a hard kiss on his lips.