Masquerade

by Amanda Ashley

  Leanne shook her head. She could understand it if he never cooked, but she had expected him to at least have the basics in the house – coffee, sugar, salt and pepper. A loaf of bread. Margarine. A quart of milk.

  Puzzled, she went into the bedroom and opened the closet. It was reassuring, somehow, to see his clothing hanging there, to see several pairs of shoes and boots in a neat row on the floor.

  After getting dressed, she wandered through the house again. There were no personal items to be found; no photos of Jason, no souvenirs or personal mementos. Why had she never noticed that before? If not for his clothes and the hundreds of books in the den, she would have wondered if the place was really his.

  With a shake of her head, she picked up her keys and left the house. He could answer her questions tonight; in the meantime, she had some shopping to do.

  * * *

  Jason felt Leanne stirring in the rooms above. Even though he was trapped in the daylight sleep of the undead, he could feel her presence as she moved from room to room, sense her confusion when she realized there was nothing to eat in the house. He should have thought of that, but then, he hadn't planned to see her again, or to bring her here again.

  Leanne. Leanne. Her name whispered through the sluggishness of his mind. He yearned to go to her, but his body, held prisoner by the daylight, refused to obey.

  Trapped in a web of darkness, he willed the sun to hurry across the sky.

  * * *

  Leanne stood in the wings, peeking out at the audience during intermission. She felt her heart skip a beat when she saw Jason. He was sitting in the fifth row, center section.

  How handsome he was! His dark jacket complimented his hair, the dark blue shirt brought out the color of his eyes. Her gaze moved lovingly over his face, the width of his shoulders. He seemed to be in a world apart as he sat there. People milled around, waiting for the second act to begin, laughing and talking, making their way down front to look into the orchestra pit, which really did look like a pit. It was lined in black cloth; the musicians always wore black. She saw several girls talking to Andy, the bassoon player. He was a nice guy, funny and outgoing, and seemed to know everyone.

  Leanne took her place backstage as the house lights dimmed and the orchestra began to play the Entr'acte. She was glad when the second act, shorter than the first, began. Soon, she thought, soon she would be with Jason again.

  She was aware of his gaze as she moved onstage during "Masquerade". Of all the scenes she was in, this was her favorite. She loved the costumes and the music, the humor at the beginning, the sudden change in mood as the Phantom appeared in the guise of Red Death, the way he descended the staircase, each step, each nuance depicting power and mystery. Most of all, she loved the way he disappeared in a flash of smoke through a trap door in the floor of the stage.

  She loved to hear Dale Kristen sing Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again. But of all the songs in the play, her favorite was Wandering Child. She wasn't sure why, only that the words and the pain in the Phantom's voice always made her cry.

  Jason sat forward, lost in the depths of the Phantom's anguish as he told Christine she must choose between himself and Raoul.

  And then Christine's voice, pure and beautiful, filled the auditorium, her words of pity and compassion melting the anger and hatred in the Phantom's heart.

  He felt the aching loneliness that engulfed the Phantom as the Phantom watched Christine leave the underground lair with Raoul. What would Leanne do, Jason wondered, if she knew the man she loved was truly a creature of darkness. Would she look at him with pity, the way Christine looked at the Phantom, or would she back away from him, the love in her clear green eyes turning to revulsion? Would she flee from him in horror, disgusted by the memory of his kisses?

  When he left his basement lair earlier that night, her scent had lingered in the air, filling the empty rooms of his house. Evidence of her presence had been everywhere – in the vases of fresh flowers on the mantle in the living room and on the table in the kitchen. There was food in the refrigerator, food that he couldn't eat, milk and soda he couldn't drink. She was fond of fruit, he noted. Melons and strawberries, apples, oranges, and peaches. He opened the cupboard, curious to see what else she had bought. He found a jar of instant coffee, a box of hot chocolate, three cans of chicken noodle soup, a box of crackers, a jar of boysenberry jam, another of peanut butter.

  She had left her mark in the bathroom, as well – a bar of perfumed soap in the soap dish, a bottle of vanilla bubble bath on the edge of the tub, a lacy fern in a bright blue vase on the shelf. He noted a change of clothes on the bed in his bedroom, along with a note that said she would fix him a midnight snack after the show.

  She had also rented a movie. A mirthless grin had curved his lips when he saw the title: Dracula starring Frank Langella. She seemed to have a fondness for vampire movies, he mused ruefully, and, though she didn't know it, a fondness for a vampire, as well.

  Now, sitting in the theater, listening to the applause that thundered through the auditorium as Davis Gaines received a standing ovation, Jason forced himself to admit that, just as the Phantom had let Christine go because he loved her, so he would have to let Leanne go. He could not hide his identity from her forever, nor did he trust himself to go on seeing her without hurting her, without turning her into a creature as wretched as himself.

  Just one more night, he thought. Just one more night to hold her and love her, and then he would let her go.

  He lifted his gaze to the stage, focusing on her face as she stood in the background with the other chorus members. Her eyes were bright, her lips parted in a smile that was his and his alone.

  Just one more night, he thought again, one night to last him for eternity.

  Heavy-hearted, he left the theater and went to wait for her at the stage door.

  Chapter 7

  Leanne ran up to him, bubbling with excitement. "Wasn't it great tonight?" she exclaimed. "Oh, I know, it's great every night, but sometimes it all seems so real, I forget it's just a play and find myself crying when the Phantom sends Christine away."

  Jason nodded. He had often felt that way himself.

  Leanne threw her arms around Jason and kissed him. "Did you have a good day?"

  "The same as always," he replied, and then, seeing the expectant look in her eyes, he smiled. "Thank you for the flowers, and everything."

  "I hope you don't mind."

  "No." He took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze. "Let's go home."

  Leanne hummed softly as they drove down the freeway, her hand resting on Jason's thigh, her gaze returning again and again to his profile. She loved the rugged masculine beauty of his face, the finely sculpted nose and lips, the strong square jaw. His brows were thick and black above deep blue eyes, his cheekbones pronounced.

  How had she fallen in love so quickly, so completely, with this man who was still a mystery in so many ways? She hardly knew him, and yet she felt as if she had always known him, as if her life hadn't truly begun until the night they met.

  "Jason?"

  He slid a glance in her direction. "What?"

  "My folks would like to meet you."

  The silence that followed her remark was thick and absolute.

  "Jason?"

  "One day, perhaps."

  "How about next Sunday?"

  "Leanne..."

  "You don't want to, do you? Why not?"

  "Surely you must have realized by now that I'm a bit of a recluse when I'm not working."

  "I know, but I'd really like for you to meet them. And for them to meet you."

  "I'll consider it."

  "I'm sorry." She took her hand from his thigh, then looked out the window. "I didn't mean to push you, or make you think I was trying to..."

  He muttered an oath as he pulled into the driveway and turned off the ignition. Getting out of the car, he opened the door for her, then drew her into his arms.

  "I'm sorry, Leanne, I didn't mean to hurt yo
ur feelings. Please, just give me a little time." Just give me tonight. "Come," he said, taking her by the hand. "I have a surprise for you."

  "What kind of surprise?"

  "You'll see."

  Inside the house, he lit a dozen long blue tapers. "Sit down," he said, "I'll only be a moment."

  With a nod, Leanne sank down on the sofa. Kicking off her shoes, she stared at the candles flickering on the mantel. A surprise, she thought. What could it be?

  A few minutes later, Jason returned. Kneeling in front of the hearth, he lit a fire and then joined her on the sofa.

  "Here," he said, handing her a long slender box. "This is for you."

  She opened the box with hands that trembled, uttered a gasp of astonishment as she stared at the contents. "Oh, Jason, it's lovely."

  "You like it, then?"

  "Oh, yes." She ran her fingertips over the heavy gold chain, then outlined the filigreed heart-shaped locket. "But it must have cost a fortune."

  "Only a small one." He lifted the chain from the box and fastened it around her neck. The locket settled in the cleft between her breasts. "I'm glad it pleases you."

  "I love it!" she exclaimed. "And I love you."

  Her gaze met his, filled with such adoration that it made him want to shout, to sing. To weep. "Leanne, beloved..." He cupped her cheek in his hand and gently pressed his lips to hers.

  "More," she whispered, and twining her arms around his neck, she kissed him passionately, her body leaning into his, inviting him to come closer.

  Her nearness, the wanting he read in her eyes, made his pulse race with desire. Too fast, he thought, they were moving too fast. If he was to have only this one night, he needed to savor every moment.

  Leanne drew back, her eyes aglow. "Tell me," she whispered. "Tell me you love me."

  "I love you."

  "Have you loved many women?"

  "No. Only one other."

  "Who?"

  "A girl from my childhood. She is dead now."

  "Oh, I'm sorry."

  "It was a very long time ago."

  He gazed into her eyes, longing to bury his hands in the wealth of her hair, to carry her to bed and sheathe himself deep within the velvet heat of her all the night long, but he dared not. He would make love to her only once, just before dawn, and then he would let her go.

  It took every ounce of willpower he possessed to keep from touching her. "Shall we watch your movie?"

  "If you like. Have you seen it before?"

  "No."

  "You'll love it."

  Jumping up, she slipped the tape into the VCR, then snuggled up against Jason, her head pillowed on his shoulder.

  Langella made a most convincing vampire, Jason thought. Indeed, the movie hit close to home. Too close. He felt his desire for Leanne surge through him, along with a ravening thirst, as he watched Count Dracula seduce his lady love amidst a shimmering crimson backdrop while a bat hovered in the background.

  A bat. He grunted softly. He had never changed into a bat in all his three hundred years; indeed, he didn't know if it was even possible.

  He felt his body tense as Dracula made a slit in his chest and offered Lucy a taste of his blood.

  "I think he's the most realistic vampire I've ever seen," Leanne remarked.

  "Indeed. Have you seen many?"

  "I mean in the movies, silly. Everyone knows vampires don't really exist. I almost wish he didn't have to die in the end."

  "Good always triumphs over evil, eventually," Jason remarked.

  "I suppose, but he doesn't seem evil exactly," she mused. "I mean, I guess he can't help being what he is."

  "No," Jason said, his voice strangely thick. "He can't."

  "And he does seem to love her."

  Jason gazed deeply into Leanne's eyes. "Yes, he does."

  "I don't think I want to watch the end." She laughed self-consciously. "I've already seen one sad ending tonight."

  "As you wish." Rising, Jason switched off the VCR. "Tell me, how does this Dracula meet his death?"

  "On a ship. Doctor Van Helsing catches him on a big hook of some kind and they hoist him into the sunlight." Leanne grimaced. "I think he ages and disintegrates into ash, but I'm not really sure. I've never watched that part. All I remember is seeing his black cape slowly drifting away in the wind. It made me want to cry."

  "You have a tender heart, my sweet."

  "Enough about vampires and unhappy endings," Leanne murmured, reaching for him. "Make love to me, Jason."

  "You are weeping now," he exclaimed softly. "Why?"

  "I don't know. I feel...I don't know, as if something awful is going to happen."

  Kneeling on the floor, he drew her down into his arms. "Nothing bad is going to happen, Leanne," he said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "You're going to have a long and happy life filled with sunshine and laughter."

  "I didn't know you told fortunes," she said with a sniff.

  "Only yours." He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs wiping her tears away. "You're going to marry and have half a dozen children and live happily ever after."

  "Am I?"

  "I promise."

  "And will you be the father of my children, Jason?"

  "I should like nothing better," he replied evasively, and then, to stop her from asking any more questions he couldn't answer, he kissed her.

  The touch of his lips on hers, the sweet invasion of his tongue, drove all thought from Leanne's mind. She forgot her mother's admonition and her father's dark warning as Jason's lips feathered across her skin, hotter than the flames that burned in the hearth, until she felt as though she, too, were on fire. Perhaps the heat incinerated her clothing, for she was suddenly lying naked beside him while his lips and tongue drifted over her face and neck, exploring the hollow of her throat, the valley between her breasts, her navel, the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.

  With a boldness she didn't know she possessed, she stripped him of his clothing, then let her hands wander over his hard-muscled flesh. He was a study in masculine perfection, from his broad shoulders and flat belly to his long, powerful legs. She felt him shudder with pleasure at her touch, heard a low groan that sounded oddly like pain as she rained kisses along his neck and down his chest.

  And then he was rising over her, his dark eyes blazing with desire.

  "Tell me to stop if you're not sure," he said, his voice low and rough. "Tell me to stop now, before it's too late."

  "Don't stop." She wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him closer. "Don't ever stop."

  With a strangled cry, he buried himself in her softness. She whimpered softly as he breached her maidenhead and he cursed himself for hurting her, but there was no help for it, and it was too late in any case.

  Too late to stop.

  Too late to think.

  He was caught up in an inferno of desire and there was no turning back.

  Leanne clutched at his shoulders, exhilarated by his mastery, frightened by the torrent of emotions that flooded through her. She felt as if she were drowning, being sucked into a swirling vortex from which there was no return. A soft gentle blackness engulfed her, and then she felt as if she were drowning in a warm red mist.

  She moaned as she felt Jason moving deep within her. Her fingernails clawed at his back, drawing blood, and then she was reaching out, reaching for something that shimmered just beyond her grasp, something elusive and beautiful.

  She cried Jason's name as he gifted her with that which she sought, cried with the joy of discovery, of wonder, as her body convulsed beneath his, flooding her with pleasure unlike anything she had ever imagined.

  For a long while, they lay wrapped in each other's arms. She held him tighter when she felt him start to draw away. "No. Don't go."

  "I must be heavy."

  "You are," she admitted, a smile in her voice, "but I like it."

  He shifted to the side a little so she wasn't bearing the full burden of his weight. "Did I hurt you?"
/>
  "No."

  He drew back so he could see her face. How lovely she was, her beautiful green eyes still aglow with passion, her lips pink and swollen from his kisses, her hair spread in wild disarray around her shoulders. He felt a ridiculous urge to thank her.

  "What are you thinking?" Reaching up, she brushed a lock of hair from his brow.

  "How wonderful you are."

  "You are," she replied. "Was it…?" She bit down on her lower lip, suddenly shy. "Did I please you?"

  "Foolish girl, to ask such a question. No one has ever pleased me more."

  "I wish you'd never known anyone but me."

  He saw the hurt in her eyes, the sudden flare of jealousy, and silently berated himself because the thought of her being jealous pleased him beyond words.

  He stroked her cheek with his knuckles. "After tonight, beloved, there will never be anyone else."

  "Truly?"

  "Truly." Jason buried his face in her shoulder, knowing he had no wish to go on existing without her.

  For three hundred years he had walked the earth, a man separate and apart, and only now, as he contemplated a future without her, did he realize the true meaning of loneliness.

  Chapter 8

  Jason had promised himself he would make love to her only once, and then let her go, only to find it was a promise he could not keep.

  Selfish monster that he was, he had been helpless to keep from sampling her sweetness again and yet again, and each time he possessed her only increased his appetite for more.

  Holding Leanne in his arms, he wished he could keep the sun from rising in the morning, wished that her face, her beautiful green eyes filled with love, could be the last thing he saw before he surrendered to the dark sleep, that her smile would be the first thing he saw upon rising.

  He had made love to her as tenderly as ever a man had loved a woman. Each moment he spent in her arms brought him the most exquisite pleasure he had ever known, and the most excruciating pain.

  The lust to possess her wholly, as only a vampire could possess a woman, pulsed through him. Only the love he had for her made it possible to keep his accursed blood lust at bay, to touch the living warmth of her skin, to kiss and caress her, and not bury his fangs in her throat and satisfy the awful hunger that plagued him.