Desire After Dark

by Amanda Ashley

  Startled, she took a step backward. “Another vampire talent, I suppose. Maybe you should make me a list.”

  He smiled at her, obviously amused.

  “I’m serious,” she said, frowning. “All these supernatural powers are disconcerting, you know.”

  “I am sorry,” he said. “I will try to warn you in the future.”

  “How did we get here so fast? At least, it seemed fast.” Still feeling a little queasy, she pressed a hand to her stomach. “Don’t tell me,” she said. “Just something you pulled out of your bag of tricks.”

  He dropped her bags on the floor. “Relax, my sweet one. I know you are nervous at being here, alone in a strange place with a vampire.”

  Nervous didn’t begin to explain what she was feeling. Any why did the word vampire suddenly seem so ominous?

  “Would you like to see the rest of the house?”

  “Sure.” Anything was better than standing there feeling like a bug under a microscope.

  “The kitchen is this way.”

  He flicked a light switch, then led her down a flight of stone steps into a large room that was, for all intents and purposes, empty save for a rectangular table and a couple of chairs. A long counter ran the length of the room; there was a pantry at one end that was bigger than her bedroom at home. Like the kitchen, the pantry was empty. She was certain that if she opened the cupboards that lined one wall, she would find they were equally empty. Several large windows were located above the counter.

  “I shall purchase a stove and a refrigerator.” Antonio glanced around the room. She had a feeling he didn’t come down here often but then, why would he? “And some food, of course.”

  “I’m surprised you have electricity,” she remarked as they returned to the parlor.

  “It is a recent addition.”

  He led her down a narrow hallway, showing her the rooms on either side. There was a large library stocked with books, an office that held little more than an antique rolltop desk, and three rooms that were empty.

  There was a second parlor at the back of the house. She knew immediately that this was where Antonio spent most of his time when he was here, mainly because of the enormous television screen that took up a good portion of one wall. A black leather chair that could easily hold two and a large square end table were located in front of the TV. Several books were scattered across the table. There was a fireplace in the corner. A bearskin rug took up a good deal of floor space in front of the hearth.

  She looked up at Antonio and grinned. “Now I know why you have electricity.”

  He grinned back at her. Moving toward a large oak cabinet, he opened the doors, revealing an expensive stereo system, hundreds of CDs, and what looked like a thousand DVDs.

  “Wow! I had no idea you were a couch potato.” Going to stand beside him, she perused the DVD titles, pleased to see a few of her favorites, like Pirates of the Caribbean, Doc Hollywood, and Gladiator, on one shelf.

  Another shelf must have held every vampire movie ever made, from the early black-and-white film Nosferatu to the more contemporary movie The Lost Boys, as well as every Dracula movie ever made, from the first black-and-white one starring Bela Lugosi to her all-time favorite starring Frank Langella. Antonio even had the Spanish version of Dracula. Vicki recalled reading in an old movie magazine that the Spanish version had been filmed on the same set as the Bela Lugosi movie and that many critics thought the Spanish version was a better film. Sandwiched in among the others were Dracula’s Daughter, Son of Dracula, The Return of Dracula, Horror of Dracula, and one she had never heard of, Billy the Kid Versus Dracula. There were a number of Hammer Dracula films, too, along with the Gary Oldman version and Anne Rice’s Interview With the Vampire.

  Vicki looked up at Antonio. “Have you watched all of these?”

  He shrugged. “The nights can be long and lonely.”

  “I wouldn’t think a vampire would want to watch movies about vampires.”

  He grunted softly. “They are always good for a laugh.”

  “Really?” She wondered what he had found humorous in Interview With the Vampire. She had watched the movie on TV with Bobbie Sue. Even though she knew it wasn’t real, she had closed her eyes during the bloody parts. And now she was alone in the house with a vampire. A real vampire.

  Shivering, she crossed her arms over her chest.

  A moment later, a fire crackled in the hearth in the corner.

  “Come,” he said, “I will show you to your room.”

  He led her up a winding staircase. Candles flickered in wrought-iron sconces along the wall. He led her down a wide corridor lined with a deep maroon carpet. The doors on either side of the corridor were open. All the rooms appeared to be bedrooms. Only one was furnished. The chair and table looked to be genuine antiques, as did the bed and the mirror, though it was hard to be sure in the flickering candlelight.

  “That was Lady Kathryn’s room,” Antonio remarked, and then grinned. “I suppose it still is.”

  He stopped at the end of the corridor in front of the only closed door. Opening it, he stepped inside and switched on the lights, revealing a large square room with leaded windows and an old-fashioned four-poster bed flanked by a pair of rosewood nightstands. The walls were a pale yellow, and a deep gold carpet covered the floor. The comforter and curtains were white. An antique rosewood armoire stood across from the bed; there was a matching rocking chair in one corner, a small desk and matching chair in another.

  “It’s lovely,” she murmured.

  “I am pleased that you like it.”

  “Where do you sleep?”

  “Nearby.” He gestured at a closed door. “The bathroom is in there.”

  She opened the door, revealing a claw-footed bathtub, a marble sink, and, to her relief, a modern toilet.

  “Do you think you will be comfortable here?” he asked.

  “Are you kidding? It’s beautiful, but…”

  He looked at her, one eyebrow arched in question.

  “What will I do here during the day when you’re…sleeping?”

  “Whatever you wish, so long as you are inside before sunset. My car is in the garage, the keys are in it. There is a small town a few miles down the road.” His gaze caressed her; his hand stroked her cheek, then slid down her neck, his thumb resting in the hollow of her throat. “I must go out for a short time. Please, make my home yours.”

  “I’ll need my bags.”

  The words were scarcely out of her mouth before he had vanished and reappeared, her luggage in hand. He dropped the bags on the bed. “Do you wish anything else before I go?”

  “I don’t think so. Well, maybe something to eat,” she said when her stomach growled rather loudly.

  He brushed a kiss across her cheek. “I will not be gone long.”

  She watched him leave the room. Needing something to do, she unpacked her bags and put her clothing away. Everything fit nicely in the armoire, including her shoes.

  Going into the bathroom, she took a quick bath, then changed into her gown and robe. She brushed out her hair, then went down the stairs and into the back parlor. She was trying to decide which DVD to watch when there was a ripple in the air. Turning, she saw Antonio walking toward her, a takeout bag in one hand and a covered Styrofoam cup in the other.

  The scent of French fries filled the air, making her stomach growl again.

  He placed the sack and the cup on the table beside the chair, gestured for her to sit and eat.

  She felt ill at ease sitting in his chair and eating in front of him while he stood, watching her. Did he remember the taste of solid food after so many years of being a vampire? It was strange to think he had never tasted anything as common as a hamburger and fries or had a Coke. Did he miss eating? Drinking something other than blood? Dared she ask?

  “Don’t you ever?”—she picked up a French fry—“you know, miss eating and drinking? I don’t mean grabbing a quick burger at the mall, but don’t you ever miss enjoying
a glass of wine with a leisurely meal?”

  “We did not have time for many leisurely meals when I was growing up,” he replied. “My father worked us hard from dawn till dark. As for wine, I am able to enjoy a sip or two from time to time. It reminds me of what I was,” he said, his voice suddenly melancholy. “And what I have lost.”

  “I’m sorry, Antonio.”

  “It was a long time ago, my sweet one. I do not often think of the past.”

  Still, she regretted making him think of it now. A look into his eyes told him he was no longer thinking of food. And suddenly, neither was she.

  Heat flowed between them. He whispered her name, and she went into his arms with no memory of leaving the chair. His mouth covered hers, his kisses hot and greedy, his tongue a flame that threatened to set her whole being on fire. She clung to him in breathless anticipation as he kissed her again and again, each kiss more potent that the last. Somehow, they were lying side by side on the rug in front of the hearth. His hands slid under her gown, hot against her skin as he stroked her foot, her ankle, her calf. Eager to touch him in return, she pulled his shirttail from his trousers and ran her hands up and down his back. His skin was cool beneath her fingertips. A distant part of her mind wondered how his skin could feel so cool when she felt as though her whole body was about to go up in flames.

  She teased his lips with her tongue, felt the sudden tremor that ran through his body, thrilled at knowing she could arouse him. His arms were like steel around her, his body taut, quivering with desire.

  He wanted her, there could be no doubt of that. And she wanted him.

  She kissed him boldly, her tongue dueling with his, her mind and body yearning toward him, hungering for more, until she felt the prick of his fangs against her tongue.

  With a wordless cry, she drew back. She opened her eyes, a quick primal fear rising from the depths of her being when she saw the hunger burning like a flame in the depths of his eyes.

  In an instant, he was on his feet, his back toward her, his hands clenched at his sides.

  Vicki stared at his back, one hand pressed to her throat as she willed her heart to stop pounding as she tried to figure out why she was upset. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known that he was a vampire.

  Silence stretched between them. She wished he would say something, anything. Wished she could think of something to ease the tension that grew more strained with every passing moment.

  “I did not mean to frighten you,” he said quietly. “I am sorry.”

  She wanted to deny it, to tell him she hadn’t been afraid, but it was a lie and he would know it.

  Several minutes passed before he turned to face her. “Forgive me?”

  “Of course.”

  When he offered her his hand, she hesitated a moment before taking it and letting him pull her to her feet.

  That brief hesitation did not go unnoticed.

  With a slight bow, he released her hand. “I will bid you good night,” he said. “Please, stay up as long as you wish. My home is yours.”

  Before she could say ah, yes, or no, he was gone.

  Vicki stared after him, her heart and mind in turmoil. Why had she reacted that way? She had known Antonio was a vampire, but it hadn’t kept her from being afraid. Nor had it kept her from feeling stark fear for her life and her soul.

  Curling up in the chair, she stared into the fire, wondering if she might not have been safer staying in her own home.

  Chapter 26

  Vicki woke with a yawn. She glanced at the high ceiling, the yellow walls, the rosewood armoire, and frowned. For a moment, she couldn’t remember where she was, and then she recalled falling asleep in Antonio’s easy chair the night before.

  Throwing back the covers, she sat up. He must have carried her upstairs to bed, though she had no memory of that, either.

  Rising, she went into the bathroom. After showering and brushing her teeth, she dressed and went downstairs.

  The silence in the house was a bit unnerving. All the drapes were drawn and she went from room to room, opening the heavy draperies, until the rooms were flooded with sunlight.

  When her stomach growled, she started to go downstairs to the kitchen, only then remembering that there wasn’t any food in the house. She continued on anyway.

  Opening the curtains, she was surprised to see several cardboard boxes on the counter. Peeking inside the boxes, she found everything she could possibly want, from the basics, like sugar and salt and pepper, to several kinds of bread and a variety of canned fruits and vegetables. She also found a box of apples, bananas, and oranges. And several bottles of water.

  The last box held pots and pans and a set of expensive silverware, as well as a couple of women’s magazines, the local TV Guide, and a cookbook. She grinned. Did he think that, because she was a waitress, she didn’t know how to cook?

  It touched her that he had gone out shopping for her. And not just for groceries. A new refrigerator and stove gleamed in their respective spaces. She wondered how on earth he had managed to get the appliances delivered in the middle of the night.

  Curious, she opened the refrigerator. It was stocked with milk, orange juice, grapefruit juice, butter, two dozen eggs, bacon, four kinds of lunch meat, three kinds of cheese, and a variety of fresh produce. There was also a six-pack of root beer and another of 7UP.

  Vicki shook her head. Her refrigerator at home had never held this much food at one time.

  Later, after a leisurely breakfast of bacon, French toast, and orange juice, she put the groceries in the pantry, washed and dried her few dishes, and then went upstairs. She put a Tim McGraw CD in the player, then went up to make her bed.

  When that was done, she wandered through the house from top to bottom, noting as she did so that there were no mirrors in the house, and no telephones. For the first time, she wished she had a cell phone, but in a little town like Pear Blossom Creek, there was really no need for one. Still, her mother had been after her to get one, for emergencies. Of course, back in Pear Blossom Creek, if you needed help, all you had to do was stand on the corner and ask. And sometimes you didn’t even have to ask!

  In the kitchen again, she noticed a small door in the back of the pantry. It opened with a squeak and she peered down a narrow flight of stairs. A flick of a switch turned on a low-watt lightbulb hanging from a cord at the foot of the stairs. Keeping one hand on the wall, she went down the steps, several of which creaked under her weight. At the bottom, she found herself in a large cellar lined with shelves, all of which were empty.

  She was about to go back upstairs when she saw the coffin. Looking at it sent an icy shiver down her spine. Was this where Antonio slept during the day? If she lifted the lid, would she find him inside?

  She stood staring at it for several minutes, wondering if she dared open it. Would he know if she did so? Would he be angry?

  She took a step toward the coffin, and then another. Did she dare?

  Compelled by some morbid desire she didn’t understand, she moved toward the coffin. She ran her hand over the wood. It was like no coffin she had ever seen before except in old monster movies. Long and rectangular, it was made of untreated wood.

  Taking a deep breath, she lifted the lid and peeked inside.

  It was empty.

  Filled with a sudden, inexplicable fear, she dropped the lid back into place, ran up the stairs, and slammed the door behind her. Standing in the middle of the pantry, she took several deep, calming breaths, and then frowned. If the coffin was empty, where was Antonio?

  She pondered that for several minutes, deciding that the coffin he slept in must be in another part of the house, no doubt behind a locked door.

  Maybe she would ask him about it later. Then again, maybe not. He had refused to tell her the last time she had asked.

  With a shake of her head, she grabbed a jacket and went outside. She walked around the grounds. There were trees everywhere, their leaves a riot of reds and golds and autumn brown.


  She paused at a fountain. It wasn’t working, of course, but it was lovely just the same. A mermaid made of blue stone reclined on a large shell in the center of the fountain. King Neptune stood behind her, trident in hand. Had the fountain been working, water would have poured out of the trident’s tines and rained down upon the mermaid. Perhaps Antonio would turn it on for her.

  She moved on, following an overgrown brick pathway that led to the rear of the house. Here, she found a number of topiary trees. Though they were in need of trimming, she could see that one was an elephant standing on its hind legs, another a whale, another a bear.

  She looked up at the house, noting the turrets and towers, the arched windows, the narrow catwalk that went all the way around the castle. It really was a lovely place.

  She stopped at the garage on the way back to the front of the house. It was an obvious addition, though it was built like a small castle, complete with turrets at all four corners. Curious to see what kind of car Antonio drove, she opened the door and stepped inside.

  It was, she saw, a three-car garage. And there were three cars inside. A sleek black Corvette. A black Jaguar that looked ready to pounce. And a gleaming silver Lexus.

  One thing was for certain. The man had expensive taste in automobiles!

  It took her five minutes to make up her mind. In the end, she picked the Corvette. Just sitting behind the wheel was exhilarating. For some reason, it made her think of Tom Duncan and his beat-up Camaro. Grinning, she turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life.

  Driving a Corvette was a heady experience for someone who had never driven a sports car. Comparing it to driving her Honda was like comparing a fine racehorse to a plow horse. Sure, both would get you where you wanted to, but there was a world of difference in the ride.

  She drove past the town and just kept going, loving the feel of the car, the purr of the engine, the way it handled. With John Michael Montgomery on the radio singing about letters from home, she thought life was just about perfect.