After Sundown

by Amanda Ashley

  "Kelly…" He reached for her hand, but she pulled it away.

  "I'll leave in the morning."

  He didn't say anything. Maybe it was for the best. He was getting much too fond of her, becoming too dependent on her. And in spite of everything, he believed what he had told Marisa. It wasn't natural for the undead to pair up with the living. Sooner or later, it was sure to lead to disaster.

  He focused his attention on the road. It stretched ahead of him, long and black and dreary, like his future.

  Chapter 16

  "What were you and Ramsey talking about?" Grigori asked. "It looked serious."

  "It was."

  Grigori pulled off the freeway onto a narrow side street. "Are you going to tell me," he asked, putting the gear shift in park, "or make me guess?"

  "She's in love with him."

  Grigori laughed softly. "A blind man could see that."

  "He's worried about it. He thinks it's wrong for them to be together."

  "I see." He slid a glance at the woman beside him, attuned, as always, to every gesture, every nuance in her voice and expression. He wondered if she knew that Ramsey was in love, not with Kelly but with her.

  "I told him that he was being ridiculous, that you and I were perfectly happy together."

  Grigori grunted softly, wondering who she was trying to convince.

  "I told him there was no reason he couldn't have a good life with Kelly."

  "Go on."

  "He said…" She turned her head and looked out the window.

  "What did he say?"

  "He said that sooner or later I would regret our marriage."

  Grigori's hand tightened on the steering wheel as he fought to maintain his calm. Damn Ramsey! That sanctimonious jackass! "Do you believe that?"

  "No."

  "Marisa, look at me."

  She turned her head. He could see her face clearly even in the darkness—the soft curve of her cheek, her full pink lips—but it was her eyes that held his gaze. She had beautiful eyes, as green as fine jade. Expressive eyes that could not lie.

  "I don't regret anything," she said fervently. "I love you, Grigori. I always will."

  He couldn't wait any longer. Switching off the engine, he drew her into his arms and kissed her, heat spiraling through him like summer sunshine as she melted into his embrace. It had ever been like that between them, he mused. A look, a touch, and the fire that had pulsed between them from the first sprang to full flame.

  He murmured her name as he kissed her, the sweetness of her kiss flowing over him, soothing him, arousing him. She tilted her head to one side, granting him access to her throat, moaning with pleasure as his teeth grazed her neck.

  "Marisa?"

  He didn't take from her often, took only a few small sips when he did, and never without asking her first. She found it very endearing somehow, especially since she had never refused him, would never think of refusing him.

  There was no pain, only a quick heat followed by a languid sense of pleasure. And then he was kissing her again, his clever mouth arousing her, making her think of dark nights and satin sheets and the ecstasy of his body pressing against hers.

  "Let's go home," she said. "Hurry."

  He smiled at her, his eyes hot as he opened the door and got out of the car. Rounding the vehicle, he opened her door and swept her into his arms.

  "What are you doing?" she gasped.

  "Taking you home the fastest way I know how," he said.

  There was a faint roaring in her ears, a dizzying sense of incredible acceleration as he moved through the night with preternatural speed toward home.

  She was laughing when he set her on her feet in their living room moments later. "You really were in a hurry, weren't you?"

  He nuzzled her neck, his tongue a flaming caress against her skin. "Tell me you aren't?"

  She wrapped her arms around him, her heart pounding with joy and excitement. Once, she had been afraid of him, but no more. No more.

  He was the air she breathed, the center of her world, the reason for her existence.

  She closed her eyes, felt his power breathe across her skin. One day soon, she would ask him to make her as he was. But not now. Not tonight. Tonight she was content to be mortal.

  She sighed his name as he kissed her again and she was caught up in the magic that was Grigori.

  Chapter 17

  Noah Fox bade his financial adviser good night, then went to the window and gazed down at the driveway below. As soon as he was certain the man was off the premises, he called downstairs and informed his staff he was retiring for the night and would have no further need of their services.

  Going into his bedroom, he took off his designer dress shirt, slacks, and loafers and donned a pair of black sweats and tennis shoes. It was a simple matter to leave the grounds without being seen.

  He had not fed for several days, preferring to hunt the night when the hunger was clawing at his vitals, when the driving need for sustenance added zest to the chase, making the reward all the sweeter.

  He had always harbored a secret yearning to be an actor, and he indulged the fantasy when he was on the hunt. Some nights he played the English lord: polite, polished. Some nights he played the rogue: brutal, arrogant. At other times he took on the persona of a swash-buckling pirate; sometimes, like tonight, he pretended he was just an ordinary mortal out for a late-night walk.

  At one time or another, he had hunted the plush homes of Beverly Hills and the cardboard shacks of the homeless, plundered the beaches, roamed the desert resorts and mountain cabins.

  He prowled the streets of the city, preying on the young and the old, male and female, but young females were his prey of choice. He loved the smell of them, the taste of them, their innocence and vulnerability.

  He licked his lips as he walked down the deserted street. Dark-gray clouds hung low in the sky. He was passing an alley when he felt it: a heaviness in the air. It made every hair on his body stand at attention.

  He had never been a coward. Even as a mortal, he had feared little, but he was afraid now without knowing why.

  A gust of jasmine-scented wind slapped his face and he whirled around, his gaze probing the night. "Who is it? Who's there?"

  His only answer was silence, and a feeling of being closed in by an otherworldly power stronger than his own. "Show yourself, damn it!"

  Was it his imagination, or did he hear a faint sound of mocking laughter?

  It had been decades since he had known fear, but he felt it now, creeping down his spine, coiling around his insides like the cold bony fingers of certain death. Was this what his victims felt as he closed in on them, this horrible sense of doom, of knowing that, no matter how fast they ran, there was no escape?

  And he was running now, skimming across the ground with preternatural speed, yet the other stayed close behind him, driving him out of the city toward the small wilderness area that bordered the southeast edge of the town.

  Trees and thick shrubs rose up before him, and he ran toward them, as if they could offer him refuge from the terror that stalked him.

  With a cry, he fell to his knees and began to dig into the dirt, hoping to find sanctuary deep in the earth. Too late, too late. A strangled cry escaped his lips as a hand closed over his shoulder and lifted him effortlessly to his feet.

  It was then he got his first glimpse of his pursuer. He almost laughed with relief—until he looked into her eyes. How could such a beautiful woman have such hellish eyes?

  "Hello, Noah."

  He licked his lips. "Khira."

  "Didn't you get my message?"

  He nodded, his movements jerky, like a puppet on a string. "I was going to leave tomorrow night."

  "You were supposed to leave last week."

  "I… I had some… some matters of business that I had to take care of."

  A smile curved her lips. He wondered if it was meant to be reassuring. It wasn't.

  Her fingers dug into his shoulder,
the nails piercing the cloth and the skin beneath. The smell of blood filled the air. His blood. Red. Dark.

  He stared at her, mesmerized, as her lips drew back to reveal her fangs. "After tonight, you won't have to worry about business anymore."

  "Khira…" He tried to pull away from her.

  She laughed softly. He was a tall man, strong and lean, but he had no strength at all compared to hers. She reveled in her power, her strength. As a mortal woman, she had been nothing but chattel, without rights, without physical strength. Subject to her father's will, she'd had nothing to say about her life, her future. Had her father been so inclined, he could have sold her and no one would have questioned his decision. But now—ah, now—no man on earth was her equal or her master.

  "Khira… please…"

  "Vampire blood is the sweetest of all," she murmured, and with a low growl, she buried her fangs deep in his throat, and drank and drank, drinking his strength and his blood, his memories and his knowledge.

  He struggled helplessly against her, his heart beating frantically. His hands clawed at her, locking on her arms in an effort to break her hold, but to no avail. His essence filled her, flooded her, warmed her. She held him to her until his heart beat its last, until the spark that had been Noah Fox ceased to exist and all that remained was a dry, empty husk.

  She left the body concealed behind a clump of shrubbery. The dawn's light would dispose of the remains quickly and efficiently, leaving nothing behind.

  Licking the blood from her lips, she left the park.

  Chapter 18

  Kelly was gone when Ramsey rose the following night. The house was empty, silent as a tomb. An apt comparison, he mused bleakly.

  He showered, dressed, then wandered through the dark, quiet house. He paused in the third-floor turret room, staring down at the grounds below. Where had she gone? Back to that seedy hotel? Or one like it?

  Why had she really left? He couldn't believe she was jealous of his feelings for Marisa. The few weeks he had shared with Kelly had been the happiest of his life. He smiled bitterly. Or death. She had banished his loneliness. Her blood had soothed the ravening hunger within him, made it manageable. There had been times when he had felt almost human again. And her kisses… He closed his eyes, remembering. Sweet, so sweet. Damn her for making him think they could have some sort of life together, for giving him hope and then running away.

  He opened his eyes and stared into the darkness.

  He could stand here until dawn, then jump from the window. Perhaps landing on the flagstones below would render him unconscious before the sun incinerated him. And perhaps not.

  Kelly.

  His heart ached for her; his body cried out for the relief that only her blood seemed able to provide.

  Kelly.

  His mind screamed her name.

  Turning away from the window, he went downstairs. It was then he saw the newspaper lying open on the living room table. The headline read:

  NOAH FOX, RECLUSIVE MILLIONAIRE, MISSING

  FOUL PLAY SUSPECTED

  He read the story quickly. According to his household staff, Fox had spent the previous evening in his study with his financial advisor, Bryan Knowlton. Knowlton had left the house at midnight. Again, according to his staff, Fox had spent the remainder of the evening watching movies in his study, and then gone to bed. It was his habit to sleep during the day, and his absence hadn't been noted until a little after six o'clock, when the butler went in to lay out Fox's attire for the evening. The butler reported that there was no sign of violence in the room. Other members of the household staff had been questioned. No one had seen Fox since the night before. No one had heard anything in the night. No one had come to the house after Knowlton left.

  Ramsey tossed the paper onto the kitchen table. It was possible that Fox had decided to leave town, but it seemed doubtful. If he had left on his own, wouldn't his staff know? Wouldn't his financial advisor know? Fox had lived in the city for over twenty years. Certainly, he would have taken his clothes and personal effects.

  Unless he didn't have time. Unless something had scared him so badly he had run for his life.

  Ramsey chuckled mirthlessly. There was nothing scarier than Khira. He could hear her voice in his mind, as clearly as if she stood beside him. I don't like to share. One way or another, Noah Fox was gone from the city; that much was certain.

  Ramsey grunted softly as he left the house. "Three down, three to go."

  That night, he hunted with a single-mindedness that would have made Khira proud. He had no mercy in him that night, his only thought to satisfy his hunger. The beast raged within him, clawing at his vitals, demanding to be fed.

  Only when he was bent over his victim, his savage thirst slaked at last, did he give a thought to the woman in his arms. Only then did he realize she was hardly breathing, that her heartbeat was faint and labored.

  He looked up as familiar laughter reached his ears.

  "Khira."

  She materialized before him: regal, ethereal, a vision with silver hair and blue eyes that could be as warm as a summer sun or as cold as winter ice.

  She floated toward him, her feet not touching the ground. "Finish her, Edward. Accept what you are." Her voice moved over him, soft and seductive, sweetly coaxing. "You will never be at peace until you do."

  "Are you at peace?" he asked. "How many lives have you taken to satisfy your monstrous lust for blood? Do none of them haunt you?"

  "How dare you speak to me like that?" Power coalesced around her. He felt it sizzling through the air, prickling the hair on his arms, raising the hair on his nape.

  She could be the answer he was looking for, he thought, if he just had the guts to push her a little harder. But not tonight. He glanced at the woman in his arms. "How do I revive her?"

  "You don't. Take her, Edward!" Her eyes flashed blue fire. "You want to. I know it. And so do you."

  "No."

  She glared at him in disgust, and with a wave of her hand, she was gone.

  Ramsey stared at the woman in his arms. He couldn't let her die, damn it; he couldn't. With a savage cry, he willed himself to the nearest hospital. Blocking their presence from the security guard at the door, he moved down the corridor until he found an empty gurney. He laid the woman on it, covered her with a blanket, then summoned a doctor to her side and vanished from the building.

  The night stretched out before him: dark and empty like his past. Like his future. Feeling a sudden need for the company of others, he speeded across town.

  The nightclub was crowded, filled with people who, for reasons of their own, were more comfortable hidden in the shadows than basking in the light The atmosphere was dark, the air heavy with the odor of too many bodies, too much booze.

  A single couple swayed on the small dance floor, their bodies so closely entwined it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began.

  Ramsey found a place at the end of the bar and ordered a glass of red wine.

  "Edward? Edward Ramsey, is that you?"

  Ramsey turned at the sound of his name, smiled at the man shouldering his way through the crowd toward him. "Tom!"

  Tom Duncan slapped him on the back. "Ramsey, you old son of a vampire hunter, how the hell are you?"

  "I'm good. What are you doing in L.A.?"

  "On the hunt, as always," Tom replied. He summoned the bartender and ordered a screwdriver. He punched Ramsey on the arm. "We haven't hunted together in years. Remember the last one?" Ramsey nodded.

  He stood beside the vampire's coffin, watching while Tom placed heavy silver chains across the vampire's neck, chest, and legs, then placed a large silver cross on her breast, over her heart. The vampire had awakened the moment the silver touched her skin. The air had filled with the stink of scorched flesh. The vampire had cursed them, hissing and screeching when she discovered she could not move. Her eyes had blazed red with fury and fear when Ramsey placed the stake over her heart. He had lifted the heavy wooden mallet without
hesitation. It never failed to surprise him, the amount of blood that fountained from the killing wound.

  The vampire had screamed once.

  It had been Tom's lot to take the head…

  Ramsey's gaze moved over his old friend. He looked the same as always: his dark brown hair worn short, his brown eyes wary and watchful, old beyond his years. A heavy gold cross on a thick gold chain hung from his neck.

  "I heard there were several vamps here in the city," Tom said, "so when I finished up my last hunt, I thought I'd come here and give you a hand." He slapped Ramsey on the back. "I've got my gear in the car. You got a line on any of them?"

  "One or two," Ramsey said.

  Tom drew back a little. "You okay? You look a little pale."

  "No worries," Ramsey said. He sipped his wine. Tom was one of the best hunters in the world. If he truly wanted to die, Tom was the answer.

  "So, who's the head vamp in the city? Last I heard, it was Chiavari. I sure would like to take him out! What a coup that would be."

  Ramsey nodded, his mind racing. Tom could be the answer to everything. All he had to do was tell the hunter where Chiavari lived, where Madame Rosa lived, where Khira lived, and where he himself lived, and leave the rest to Tom. Even though they had been friends for more than fifteen years, Ramsey knew Tom wouldn't hesitate to stake him if he knew Ramsey was a vampire. The man was relentless, tenacious. Merciless. Ramsey had taught him everything he knew.

  Tom tossed back his drink and ordered another. "So, what do you say we meet up tomorrow afternoon and start sniffing around?"

  "I wish I could," Ramsey said, thinking quickly, "but I'm leaving town."

  "Damn, where are you headed?"

  "The beach, the mountains—who knows?" The lie rolled easily off his tongue. "I wouldn't admit this to anyone but you, but after that business with Kristov, my nerves are shot. I need a break."

  Tom nodded. "That was a rough one, huh?"

  "You have no idea."

  "How long are you gonna be gone?"

  "I'm not sure. A month, maybe more."