Vampire - Kiss Of Darkness Part 21

11.

F or an instant, terror filled her. It couldn't be...

There had been so many years when she had run, when she had spent her days and nights in hiding. There had been years when she had thought she had managed a real escape. Then she had finally realized that she would never live in peace if she didn't face the truth, and become a hunter. And still, no matter what pretense of confidence and a.s.surance she had cultivated, there had still been the awful and absolute fear, the horror....

She bolted up to a sitting position, all thoughts of exhaustion gone, ready to defend herself. But she wasn't being attacked. Not physically, at least.

Bryan MacAllistair was seated in the huge wing chair that flanked her bed. She had no idea how long he had been there. He could have been there when she entered the room; she had never so much as glanced around.

She hadn't seen him. Worse, she hadn't even sensed his presence!

She fought for control.

Swinging back a lock of hair, she clasped her arms around her knees and stared at him, slowly arching a brow. "What the h.e.l.l are you doing in my room?"

He smiled grimly and queried, "What were you doing in mine?"

"Trying to find out who you are," she said flatly.

He lifted his hands. "My credentials speak for themselves."

"Your credentials are bulls.h.i.+t."

"I beg to differ. I'm not entirely sure about yours, however."

"My diploma is at my office," she informed him dryly. "And I imagine it's completely in order," he said pleasantly, then stood, walked over and sat on the foot of her bed.

"What were you doing at the hospital?" he demanded.

"I knew the girl," she said indignantly.

"So you dressed up like the cleaning woman to visit her corpse?"

"What were you doing at the hospital?" she demanded.

"I went to kill a vampire," he said bluntly.

She swallowed, staring at him. No, gaping. "You've been listening to your own lectures too long, Professor."

"Get off it."

"What?"

"Don't try to turn your psychology on me. You know what's out there."

"I..." Who the h.e.l.l was he?

"You know that's what the girl has become," he said. It wasn't a question; it was a statement. "You know it, and your buddy the cop knows it. How you know it would make an entertaining story, I'm sure, but the truth is, you both know exactly what's going on."

She let her lashes fall. Then she sighed. "There has been vampire activity in the area before," she told him. She felt a chill. She forced herself to think, rather than feel. "So how do you know the truth of what's going on? Who the h.e.l.l are you? Where did you come across a situation like this before?"

"All over the world," he said curtly. "We're dealing with the here and now, though, and that's what matters."

"I see. So...have you taken it on yourself to rid the world of vampires?" she asked, genuinely curious despite all her suspicions about him.

"I don't think any one person can rid the world of vampires. Like all other creatures, they have an instinct for survival. These days some of them hide as suburban housewives and stockbrokers. But I've been following one in particular."

"Oh?"

"The creature in Transylvania. The one who took Mary, and is apparently in New Orleans now. The one known as the Master."

"The Master?" He even knew her enemy's name. "The Master," she repeated, then could have slapped herself. She was starting to sound like a parrot. She was unnerved, and she needed to keep it together. Repeating his words would get her nowhere.

And of course the Master was in New Orleans. Had Romania been a tease? Had he known that she would be there? She had felt the evil before she had gone, no matter how hard she had tried to deny it. She knew it now. Knew it every waking moment.

Knew it from the color of the sky.

There had been times when it had almost been possible to believe it was over, that the Master had been killed, that the darkness might never come again. But he had always been out there. And that was why she had to hunt.

But there was no way to explain any of that, especially to a man who needed to be explained himself."You were going to stake Mary!" she said.

"You bet. She's a creature of the Master's now. There's no choice."

She stared at him. "I believe, then, that we're on the same side."

"Are we?" he asked. "I don't really know you."

"And I don't know you."

"Those kids trusted you," he said quietly. "And look what happened to them."

Dear G.o.d, that hurt. But it was true.

"I knew nothing about that party until I received Jeremy's note," she said, and that, too, was true. "What were you doing in the area-without lifting a finger to help?"

He didn't reply but let out a soft groan of exasperation. "What matters now is this-you should stay out of it," he told her.

"What?" she demanded.

"I don't know what you know about the Master, but trust me, you're up against something you haven't encountered before."

"Oh?"

"There have been times through the years when vampire hunters, warriors, even kings, tried to kill him. They all failed. He has learned skills throughout the centuries that allow him to evade those who would stop him, and he's constantly on the move." He stood suddenly, pacing, and she was stunned by the ardor in his voice. "I have dedicated my life to finding this creature, to stopping him. There is no greater evil that walks the earth." He turned to her. "You need to take a step back. You and your friends. Whatever strength you think you have, whatever you think you know, you are facing a danger with a greater strength than you can begin to imagine."

She frowned, taken aback by his fury.

She answered slowly. "Trust me, it's not like I want to make contact," she said softly. "But I don't really have any choice.

Because of what happened in Transylvania, I'm involved whether I want to be or not."

"You need to step back. I can't watch your back and defeat this creature."

"I can watch my own back," she snapped in return. "And who do you think you are, anyway? Some kind of great vampire slayer?"

"No, but as I told you, the Master has been my quest for some time now."

"But you'd kill all vampires if you could?"

"Of course."

"But..."

He laughed bitterly. "Are you going to suggest that some of them are actually good? If so, you're in greater danger than I had begun to imagine. Trust me, there is no such thing as a good vampire."

She looked down quickly. "I beg to differ. I've heard of some." He hesitated, taking a long, deep breath. Then, rather than argue with her again, he startled her by walking to her side. "There's just something about you...you remind me so much of someone I knew once."

The tone of his voice seemed to stir an old emotion, deep in her heart. "Maybe," she murmured huskily, "we've crossed paths before."

He shook his head. "No," he said, the pad of his thumb caressing her cheek. "She was...evil. And she is dead. Dead and gone.

And if she were not...then I would have to kill her myself. As far as the Master goes, I have been close, so close that I could smell the fetid stench of his breath. I will see this through, and I will prevail. But to do so, I have to know you'll be stay out of it, stay safe."

Her heart seemed to take a little leap. How could this be?

How could she feel such a shattering depth of pa.s.sion for a man who had just walked into her life? How could she feel-as insane as it sounded-that she had known him before?

The great love of her life was so long gone.

"You underestimate me," she told him.

He sat beside her. "Trust me," he said.

"If you'll believe in me," she told him. "So what do you know about the Master?"

"I can't tell you how long I've been tracking him. Long enough to know his strength. I know the dominatrix who works with him is rumored to be the newest incarnation of his creature Katherine, a British countess believed destroyed in the reign of Louis XIV.

She didn't begin her existence in that guise, of course. She was an evil created long before. It was easy then for such creatures to disappear from one place and reappear elsewhere. Some say she moved on to China, to Cairo...to countries in turmoil, where murder is not so easily noticed. And if so, then she, too, must die before this can be over. You simply don't know what you're up against with the two of them. I beg you, listen to me on this."

Jessica turned away from him, shaking her head. "Maybe we're both asking the impossible."

"What is it about you?" he asked very softly. "I just can't walk away."

She turned her head lowered, then slowly raised her eyes to his. "So what do we do?" she asked.

"You could listen to me. You see, I...failed once. I let someone down. I lost her. That same steel and resolve, courage, confidence, are part of you, too. And the way that I felt then..." He took a deep breath. "I touch you, and I'm paralyzed with the fear of losing you as I did her.

"Don't be afraid for me. Please."

She spoke in a whisper. He was so close, and suddenly a yearning filled her that was stronger than any fear for what the future might bring. Once upon a time, so long ago, there had been hope, no matter how bitter the reality of life. And then...

But now, when he touched her, hope and belief stirred in her heart again, along with a yearning, poignant, sad and agonizing, yet beautiful, as well. Turmoil raged around and within her, but it didn't matter, not at this moment.

Perhaps similar thoughts rode through his mind, because he didn't speak again. He simply kissed her. And this time there was no almost-maddened desperation as there had been before. This time his lips spoke of whatever was real and fine within the soul and the very heart. She kissed him in return, seeking the answers neither spoke, an end to the war of need raging within her, expressing her own yearning to touch something long gone, to experience the spiral of erotic fantasy and raw rapture he could create.In seconds, questions were forgotten, answers were no longer needed.

Her fingers found wanton pleasure in moving delicately over his face, his body, finding the obstruction of clothing, slipping beneath it. His flesh heated beneath her touch as her hands softly moved down the line of his back, curved over the tautness of his muscled form. She reveled in the pressure of his body against her own as her lips traced seductive patterns down the length of his throat; she stroked and teased with her tongue, with the sinuous movement of her own body against his.

She cherished the madness, the oblivion, she found in his arms. Desire rose higher, and she lost all thought, all fear, all sense of the future. There was only the here and now, nothing more, the thunder of her pulse against the clamor of his, lips, tongues, fingertips.

His lips against her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. The liquid tender touch of his tongue, urgently insane. Her fingers, stroking against the aroused length of him. The two of them twisting and rolling, finding new positions in which to touch each other. His caress against her inner thighs, the flicker of her tongue upon the hardness of him, his arms wrapped around her, drawing her against him again, mouths mes.h.i.+ng again. And then, at last, the streak of molten steel inside her. Pleasure burst through her in a shower of relief, and she felt his fierce tremor and release at the same time. She lay there, dazed, the room becoming real again, savoring the feel of slick flesh against slick flesh and the feeling of succoring arms, something she had never thought to feel again. She felt a sense of amazement and security, and yet she found herself fighting against the desire to lose herself so completely.

s.e.x was one thing, truth was another. And now, more than ever, she needed distance.

"Jessica?"

The sound of his voice, rich, husky and deep, seemed to stroke her soul.

"I'm so tired," she whispered, and that was the truth.

With a sigh, he held her. She feigned sleep, and in a few minutes, it became real.

Nightmares again.

She was alone, a different person, in a different place, a different time.

Born to war, born in sin, a b.a.s.t.a.r.d, she learned to wield a sword, learned to fight.

Learned to kill.

Learned the hardest lesson of all. Courage.

Remnants of memory, faded and torn, remained of a time when her fight had been just, when lives had been at stake, an entire nation at risk.

And then...

Death but no peace. Waking in an agony far beyond that of death and with a hunger that seemed to rake inside her like a thousand daggers. Awaking to the maddened laughter of a hated enemy, who commanded her to serve, mocked her, swore that all she had loved were dead and he had won, so she was now a prize of war.

To the victor went the spoils.

The Master-for that was what he called himself-was the power, but from the beginning she defied him. She endured the pain of unnatural hunger, determined that though her soul might be d.a.m.ned, she would not allow her will to be twisted. The focus of her existence became to fight his power. And she escaped. For years, she managed a strange kind of life beyond death....