Lord of the Night

by Robin T. Popp

  “You let them get away,” Carrington was barking at the others.

  “No more so than you did,” one grumbled back.

  “I’ve had enough of this,” the third said. “I don’t remember Michael saying anything about shooting them. I thought he wanted them alive.”

  “They were alive,” Carrington said. “How else do you think they were able to run into the woods and get away from us?”

  Erik put his hand on Kacie’s arm, making her hold still until it was clear the group was walking away from them. As soon as their voices faded, Erik and Kacie hurried on to the castle.

  “That was close,” Kacie said once they were safely inside. “Maybe my leaving isn’t such a bad idea—I don’t think they’re ever going to stop.”

  Erik shook his head. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Whether you leave or not, they’re after me now as well.”

  Guilt rode her and she felt herself bending under the weight of it.

  Erik, obviously sensing how she felt, came up and gave her a reassuring squeeze. He was looking at her so tenderly she didn’t know why she’d ever thought he was hard and uncaring. He plucked a small twig from her hair. “Why don’t you go bathe? I’ll call Gerard and tell him we’re not coming.”

  It didn’t take her long to shower. When she got out, she found another one of Erik’s shirts laid out for her.

  Erik was standing in the living room staring at the pictures on his wall when she joined him. “Thank you,” she said, gesturing to the shirt. “At this rate, you won’t have anything left to wear.”

  “I’m not worried about it.”

  “How did Dad take the news?”

  “Like he usually does—calmly. We decided it might be better, after all, for him to hire a cab on his end and drive up tomorrow.”

  “Good. Now what?”

  He smiled. “Now, I’m going to take a shower and try to wash off some of this blood and dirt.”

  He disappeared into the bathroom and Kacie had barely enough time to go into the kitchen to retrieve the first aid kit when she heard the sound of the shower turning off.

  She went to the bathroom door, careful not to look through the hole. “How bad is your wound? Do you need me to dig out a bullet?”

  “I’ll live, thanks to you. Looks like the bullet went all the way through. The bleeding stopped before we headed back and I can tell it’s already starting to heal.” She heard the smile in his voice. “There are some advantages to being a vampire.”

  At that moment the phone rang.

  “Can you get that?” Erik asked through the door. “It’s probably Gerard calling to let us know what time to expect him.”

  Kacie looked around the living room and found the phone. “It’s dead,” she shouted a moment later. “Do you have an extension?”

  “Studio,” he answered absently.

  That had to be the room beyond the study, she thought, heading for it.

  She was almost to the door when she heard Erik’s quick intake of breath.

  “Kacie—wait.”

  Too late. She’d opened the door and discovered his big secret.

  Chapter 12

  What’s this?” she hollered, walking into the room. “You paint?”

  “I, uh, dabble a little bit.” Erik had come down the hallway and stopped in the doorway, a towel hurriedly tucked around his waist. She felt his gaze following her around the room as she looked around, the phone now silent and completely forgotten.

  In the center of the room stood a large cloth-covered easel. Beside it was a table, on top of which sat an array of oil paints and brushes.

  “Looks like you do more than dabble,” she said, noticing the stacks of finished canvases leaning against the walls. They were facing away so she couldn’t see the subjects. She moved closer, hoping he wouldn’t stop her. She was in his private domain, but now that she had breached its secret, she was fascinated. This explained why he was so proud of his collection of works by famous artists like Rembrandt, McLaughlin, and Monet.

  Imagining Erik garbed in a painter’s smock and beret, standing at the easel, leaning back with his arm out in front of him, one eye closed and his thumb stuck up in the air as he studied the subject of his painting, she tried to meld the image with the blazing red eyes and fangs—and couldn’t.

  “May I look at what you’re working on?” she asked, walking over to the big easel.

  He shifted nervously. “I’d really rather you didn’t.”

  She noticed that he hadn’t moved from the doorway so she pressed her luck. “Please,” she scoffed, “how bad can it be?” She grabbed the cloth before he could stop her and pulled it off. “Oh, Erik,” she breathed in admiration, studying the finished landscape. “It’s wonderful.” She glanced at him and smiled. “I had no idea you were so talented.”

  She’d thought he’d be pleased with her praise, but it seemed to make him even more uncomfortable, so she tried again. “I really like the way you combined the colors. And the angle—it’s terrific—it’s—oh my God.” She stepped closer to look at the all too familiar signature at the bottom. “Erik, this is a McLaughlin.”

  She heard him sigh behind her and turned to face him, feeling confused. “I don’t understand.” Then she realized her mistake and, embarrassed, smiled. “I’m sorry. I assumed this was your work,” she said, adding lamely, “because of the cloth and the easel. When did you buy this?”

  “I didn’t buy it.”

  “Someone gave it to you?” She gaped at him. “Oh, wow. It wasn’t McLaughlin, was it?” Now she was really impressed. “Do you know him personally?”

  He came to stand beside her as she continued to study the picture. “Yes, I know McLaughlin.”

  “What’s he like? I’ve been to his Web site, but it doesn’t show a picture of him.”

  “He’s a vampire.”

  “What?!” She turned to see if he was kidding and saw that he wasn’t. Then she realized exactly what he was saying. “You’re McLaughlin?”

  She could hardly believe it. She went over to a stack of framed canvases leaning against the wall and began flipping through them. They were all McLaughlins.

  She looked at him pointedly, aware that he hadn’t answered her.

  “McLaughlin was my mother’s maiden name,” he said finally.

  “I never would have imagined,” she mused, feeling overwhelmed. “How long?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve been painting for centuries, but I’ve only been McLaughlin for about thirty years.”

  “What made you start painting?”

  “You try living four hundred years and see if you don’t get bored. The first thing I tried was music and I enjoyed it, but there was always something missing.” He smiled. “I tried other things, but nothing held my interest for long. Then, one day, I was missing the sight of a sunrise so badly that I decided to sketch a picture to remind me what it looked like. I showed it to Gerard, who asked if he could have it. Since I could paint another, I gave it to him. He added the McLaughlin signature to the bottom and took it to an art agent. The rest, as they say, is history. Even now, I’m surprised that anyone buys them.”

  “I’m not,” she said with conviction. “They’re wonderful paintings.”

  “Thank you.” He sounded so sincere that she wondered if he knew just how great an artist he was. “The money from the sales helps pay the bills on this old castle,” he went on to explain. “What’s left over, I put into the Winslow Trust for the extended family to live on.”

  “You fund that trust?” She’d never seen the financial books on the family trust, but knew it had to contain several million dollars.

  He nodded. “From the sale of the paintings, as well as the returns from several investments I’ve made over the years.”

  She nodded. “I’d always wondered. I mean, I know the Night Slayers don’t hold regular jobs, so they had to get money from some—”

  The phone rang again. This time, Kacie let Erik answer it. As she watched, a h
ard, unreadable expression crossed his face. “Just a moment, please.” He held the phone out to her. “It’s for you.”

  She took the phone from him, wondering who would be calling her. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Kacie. How’s your visit home going?” The familiar voice was from another life and so unexpected that she almost didn’t recognize it.

  “Ben?”

  He laughed. “Yeah. Who did you think it was?”

  Being in the room with Erik standing so close, wearing nothing more than a towel and looking sinfully sexy, Kacie felt her face heat up. “No—I knew it was you. Don’t be ridiculous.” She tried to cover her discomfort with a laugh, but it came out sounding forced.

  “Kacie—is something wrong?” Ben’s voice was laced with concern.

  Kacie looked up and found Erik watching her closely. The intensity of his gaze made her pulse race. Ben’s gaze never did that to her. “No, everything’s fine.”

  She felt Erik’s disapproval slam into her right before he walked out, closing the door behind him. Kacie sighed. She didn’t want to have this conversation over the phone, but she didn’t see that she had any choice. Ben deserved the truth. And more than Ben, Erik deserved it.

  “Actually, Ben. Everything’s not all right.”

  Erik went into his room and closed the door. The wound in his side didn’t hurt nearly as much as his chest did at that moment. The phone call from Kacie’s fiancé was probably for the best. It helped remind him that she was off limits and would soon be leaving. He wondered if Ben would understand when she told him about the chupacabra incident.

  He pulled off the towel and put on a pair of jeans, his mood dark. When he left his room, he paused outside the studio door. When he heard the soft click of the phone being turned off, he hurried into the living room, not wanting her to come out and think he had been eavesdropping.

  He waited a full minute for her to come out, and when she didn’t, he became concerned. Going back to the studio, he knocked softly on the door. “Kacie?”

  “Come in,” she called.

  He walked in and found her staring at one of his paintings, holding it in front of her. “Everything all right?”

  She glanced over at him and smiled. The effect of her expression rocked through him. “These really are beautiful. I can’t believe you’re McLaughlin.”

  He went over to stand beside her, unwilling to be sidetracked by compliments. “How’d he take the news?”

  She leaned the painting against the wall with the others and looked around. “Pretty well, actually.”

  “Really?” Erik frowned. The guy must be a saint. Erik really hated him.

  “Yeah. He was disappointed, of course, that I wasn’t moving to the States with him, but promised to e-mail me once he got there.” She turned and gave him an embarrassed smile. “I lied earlier about being engaged. We never were. I just wanted you to think I was.”

  Erik couldn’t stop his smile. “Is that right? What about the job you were going to take over in the States?”

  She shrugged. “I couldn’t take it anyway—not now.” She sighed.

  “You could always become a Night Slayer and live off the family trust,” Erik suggested. He hoped his voice didn’t sound too eager.

  “I’ll probably have to,” she agreed. “The thing is—I kind of liked doing the accounting work. It made for a nice change from all the slaying.”

  “Well, I don’t know if you’re interested, but as it happens, I’m having a hard time juggling the accounting for the Winslow Trust as well as my painting. Would you consider working for the family? Our hours are flexible and you could work at night.”

  “Really?” Her eyes lit up. “You’re offering me a job?”

  “Sure, but only if you want it.”

  “I think I’d like that.”

  “Good. Great.” He heaved a sigh, not even realizing how afraid he’d been that she would leave and he’d never see her again. That wouldn’t happen if she worked for him. Of course, he’d have to find another job for his current accountant because he didn’t want to leave the kindly old man unemployed.

  Kacie continued to walk around the room. When she stopped before another stack of canvases, he was too preoccupied with watching her to pay much attention to what she was looking at. When he finally did, his heart skipped a beat.

  “Kacie—wait!” A part of him wanted to turn and run but he knew it was time to face the consequences. She was reaching for the one picture he didn’t want her to see. He’d started working on it the day she’d been kidnapped—if anything was an invasion of her privacy, this one was. It had never been meant for public viewing. It was for him to have after she left. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

  She looked at him, her hand ready to pluck off the drape. “Why? What’s under here? Something I won’t like?”

  “Something you won’t understand.”

  She arched her eyebrow and before he could stop her, she pulled the drape off the canvas. “Oh my God.”

  “I can explain.” Erik stared at the portrait of a nude Kacie. “Or maybe I can’t.”

  She blushed, but her expression wasn’t one of outrage or horror as he’d expected. “Do I really look like that? It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “I mean, the way you painted me, I’m beautiful.”

  He looked at the picture again. “It’s the way I see you.”

  She turned to him with eyes opened wide in surprise. “You do? I thought you hated me.”

  He looked deep into her eyes, willing her to understand him. “Hate you?” He wanted to laugh. “Kacie, a man doesn’t paint pictures of a woman he hates. He doesn’t feel a need to be with her every second he can and he doesn’t fight with her simply because that’s the only way he can get her attention. When I’m with you, my palms are sweaty, my heart races, and all I can think about is how much I don’t want you to leave.”

  She gasped. “You don’t?”

  “No. I want you to stay here, with me.” Forever. He was already feeling too vulnerable to say that last bit out loud.

  “But what about your girlfriend?” she asked, taking him by complete surprise.

  “What girlfriend?”

  “I saw you with her at Myrtle’s the night Carrington attacked me.”

  It took Erik a minute to think of who she meant. “You must have seen me with Penny. Penny Lockwood. She’s not my girlfriend. She’s my business manager and art agent.”

  “You kissed her.” Her words sounded like a jealous accusation and he couldn’t help but be amused.

  “Yes, I did. It was a kiss between friends, not lovers, but if it bothers you, I’ll never do it again.”

  She took a step closer and laid her hand against his chest. “The only person I want you kissing is me.” She rose up on her toes and placed a small kiss on his lips that shot straight through him.

  He nearly groaned aloud. “Careful. Another kiss like that and I’m liable to lose control.”

  “Is that right?” She feathered a kiss on the side of his neck, sucking at the skin until he shuddered.

  He gripped her tightly on the arms, holding her still. “I mean it, Kacie. I’m not doing a repeat of the other night. This time, we finish what we start.”

  “About damn time,” she whispered.

  He couldn’t keep his eyes from glowing and the desire to taste her blood was almost as strong as the need to bury his swollen flesh deep inside her. He pulled her against him, kissing her with unrestrained need. She responded without hesitation and when she opened her mouth for him, his tongue swept in to taste her sweetness.

  Picking her up, he carried her to his room and laid her on the bed. Pulling off his jeans, he tossed them to the side. He saw her eyes widen when her gaze fell on his engorged member, standing at eager attention. He hesitated, worried about frightening her with the intensity of his need, but then she looked up at him and he saw the passion and anticipation in her eyes.

  He needed no further encouragement. Joining her on the b
ed, he held her in his arms, showering her with kisses as he slid his hand up her side. When he reached her breasts, he worshipped each one, savoring their fullness.

  She arched into him. Unable to resist, he lowered his head and pulled one of the dusky rose tips into his mouth. He drew on skills honed over centuries, wanting this experience to be as special for her as it was for him.

  He was as hard as he could ever remember being and he rubbed against her, hoping to find some small measure of relief in the action. Her delicate gasp pulled an echoing moan from deep inside him and when he felt the tentative touch of her hand on his shaft, he nearly exploded.

  Running his hand along her waist, across the gentle swell of her stomach and down along the curve of her hip, he couldn’t get over the way she felt. “Perfection,” he whispered in awe.

  He used his knee to open her legs and settled his weight between them, his shaft probing her swollen flesh, finding her moist and ready.

  Every nerve in his body hummed. He could hardly believe he was with her like this. “Kacie, are you sure?”

  “Yes.” Her voice sounded seductively husky and breathless. “Now, Erik.” She pulled at him with her hands and yet he resisted. He had no expectation that she was a virgin, but it was her first time with him and he wasn’t about to rush things if he could help it.

  Kissing her deeply, enjoying the sensation of her breasts pressed against his chest, he took her hands and raised her arms above her head. Then he fit himself at her entrance and, moving with deliberate slowness, pushed himself into her.

  Kacie was already wound so tight with wanting him that when he finally entered her, she nearly came. She didn’t think the nerves in her body could be wound any tighter and yet, as he filled her a little at a time, the tension inside built until she was nearly shaking with need.

  When he pulled out, she felt the entire length of him sliding inside her. He pushed into her again and with each successive stroke, went deeper than before.

  When he released her hands, she clutched at him. “More.” She could hardly form the word and yet he seemed to understand her need.