Night's Mistress (Children of the Night) (8 page)

He was a delight to watch. He swam effortlessly, his body barely making a ripple as he moved smoothly through the water. Moonlight dappled his long black hair.

After a hundred laps or so, he swam up to her again. “I think it’s been a minute.”

Rising, she undressed, then dove into the pool. He was right. The water felt wonderfully erotic against her bare skin. She shrieked with mock terror when Logan came up behind her and wrapped her in his arms.

She leaned back against him, loving the feel of his body against hers, the sensuous slide of wet skin against wet skin as she turned in his arms to face him.

Excitement stirred deep within her as his hand cupped the back of her head. His kiss, when it came, sent fingers of flame shooting through her. Good thing they were in the pool, she thought, or she might have gone up in smoke.

She ran her hands restlessly over his back and shoulders, groaned softly as her need for him intensified.

Backing up against the side of the pool, he wrapped her legs around his waist and made love to her, there, in the shallow end of the pool, with the crickets singing a serenade and the moon smiling down on them.

 

 

She was dreaming. Even in sleep, Mara found the idea astonishing. She had not dreamed since Dendar brought her across, yet she was dreaming now, of people she had known down through the ages, of cities and towns long gone.

As if watching a movie in her mind, she saw herself walking along a dusty boardwalk in some nameless town in the Old West . . .

 

 

 

Mara woke, her desire unfulfilled, her body bathed in perspiration. Damn, why couldn’t she have slept for another few minutes? It had been such a wonderful dream, so real she could almost feel Logan’s hands on her flesh, his breath hot on her skin, his tongue laving her breasts. Filled with yearning, she sat up and reached for her robe. She didn’t have to settle for dreams, not when Logan was just down the hall.

She frowned, the robe in her hand forgotten. Was it Logan she wanted, or Kyle? She had thought herself in love with Kyle, so why was she dreaming of Logan? Of course, she couldn’t control her dreams, but she was awake now, so why was it still Logan that her body burned for? Maybe indecision was a part of being mortal.

Confused, she fell back on the bed and closed her eyes. Maybe, if she was lucky, she could recapture her dream . . .

She woke in the morning to discover that, while she’d slept, Logan had painted the bedroom. How had he managed it without waking her, she wondered, and then shrugged. He was a vampire. He wouldn’t need a light to see by, and with his preternatural speed, it wouldn’t have taken him more than a few minutes to paint the whole room.

Sitting up, she glanced around. The room, once pale gray, was now a lovely shade of sage green with sparkling white trim. Logan’s black bedspread was gone, replaced by a luxurious satin quilt that was green on one side and white on the other. New drapes hung at the window. A beautiful, old-fashioned, full-length mirror stood in one corner of the room, a note taped to the top.

Rising, she unfolded the sheet of paper and read the message scrawled in Logan’s bold hand:
So you can see how beautiful you are.

Staring at her reflection, she wondered if it was possible to be in love with two men at the same time, and what she would do if she couldn’t make up her mind.

 

Lou McDonald sat at her desk, quickly scanning through her e-mail. Since putting out the word that she was offering a reward for information on Mara, her inbox had been flooded with mail. It seemed every contact she had from Alaska to Mexico and in between had seen the Queen of the Vampires. Unfortunately, none of the leads had panned out.

Lou leaned forward, her eyes narrowing as she read an e-mail from her sister in Nevada. She read it again, and yet again, and then, shaking her head, she leaned back in her chair.

“Very funny, Cindy,” she muttered as she typed her response. Mara, pregnant in Northern Nevada. That was very funny indeed. But then, Cindy had always had a twisted sense of humor. They had been partners in the vampire hunting business since a vampire had killed their younger brother eleven years ago. Cindy didn’t have the stomach for staking hearts or taking heads, but she was aces at undercover work and ferreting out the lairs of the Undead. Working for Ramsden gave her access to his records and other valuable information. It was the only reason he was still alive.

Lou glanced at her watch, and swore softly. She was late for her two o’clock appointment with Kyle Bowden. He was an odd duck. She had never had a client who wanted a vampire found but not destroyed. She wondered if he wanted to destroy the vampire himself or if, poor fool, he had fallen under the creature’s spell. Lou had been hunting vampires for ten years and had yet to find one who didn’t deserve a stake in the heart. But Bowden wasn’t paying her for her opinion.

After shutting down her computer, Lou left her office. She didn’t for a minute believe that Mara was pregnant.

But a little voice in the back of her mind kept asking, What if it’s true?

 

 

“Pregnant?” Kyle stared at Lou. “Is that even possible?”

“No. Vampires are unable to create life.” Lou wasn’t sure why she had even mentioned it to Bowden, except she had been curious to see his reaction.

“So, the only lead you have is that she might be in Nevada?” Gaining his feet, Kyle paced the floor. “It’s been weeks!”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Bowden, but looking for a vampire isn’t the same as trying to find your average woman. Mara doesn’t have a Social Security number. As near as I can tell, she doesn’t have any credit cards or bank accounts. If she has a residence, it’s not in her name. The same goes for a cell phone. She doesn’t show up on any census rolls or tax records. To my knowledge, she’s not on Facebook or any of the other social networks. Vampires tend to be very protective of their identities. But I’ll find her.”

Kyle dropped back down on the sofa. “Anything else?”

“No. I’ll be in touch.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

After walking Lou to the door, Kyle poured himself a shot of whiskey. The hunter claimed it was impossible for a vampire to get pregnant, but what if she was wrong? What if Mara was carrying a child—his child?

Dammit, he should have asked for the doctor’s name, but learning that Mara might be pregnant had thrown him for a loop.

Grabbing his cell phone, he dialed McDonald’s number, muttered an oath when he got a busy signal. Too restless to sit still, he paced the floor, then picked up his keys and left the apartment. He needed a drink, and he didn’t like to drink alone.

 

 

Lost in thought, Lou sat at the curb in front of Bowden’s apartment while she accessed the messages on her office answering machine. A call from her mother, a wrong number, an inquiry about her services. Nothing urgent.

Dropping the phone on the seat, she tapped her fingertips on the steering wheel. Whatever had possessed her to agree to find Mara and not destroy her? The so-called Queen of the Vampires had been alive for centuries. No doubt she had killed thousands of helpless mortals. If any of the Undead deserved to be destroyed, it was Mara.

What if she was really pregnant?

Lou shook her head. It was impossible and yet, what if Cindy had been telling the truth? There hadn’t been any smiley face at the end of the e-mail, nothing to indicate that Cindy was pulling her leg. So, what if it was true, and Bowden was the father? Did he have some special DNA that enabled him to impregnate the Undead? She swore softly. Now that was a scary idea. There were already too many vampires in the world without some foolish mortal going around making more.

She glanced out the window as the mortal in question emerged from the apartment building, got into his car, and pulled away from the curb.

Being curious by nature, and having nothing better to do, Lou started the car and followed him down the street. When he pulled into the parking lot of a tavern a few blocks away, she drove on by. What if Bowden knew Mara was pregnant and that was why he was looking for her? She shook her head. No, his surprise had been genuine.

“Well, hell,” she muttered. She wasn’t getting anywhere here. Picking up her cell phone, she noticed a missed call from Bowden. Ignoring it, she punched in Cindy’s number.

After listening to the recorded message, she said, “Hey, Cin, this is Lou. Just thought I’d let you know I’ll be in town tomorrow night.”

 

Mara hadn’t been inside a grocery store more than a dozen times in her existence, and then only when she was following some tasty-looking mortal. But today she wasn’t looking for prey, she was shopping for food. Mortal food to ease the odd cravings she was experiencing, cravings made harder to fulfill because she wasn’t really sure what she was hungry for other than chocolate. She never tired of it, but, according to some prenatal guidelines she’d read on the Web, she knew she needed to eat fruits and vegetables and drink lots of milk for the baby’s sake.

Thinking of the baby brought Kyle to mind. What was he doing? Did he miss her? She didn’t miss him as much as she’d thought she would, but then, Logan was responsible for that. He was good company, always there to cheer her when she was down, to assure her that everything would be all right.

Earlier in the week, she had gone shopping online and bought a stove and a refrigerator. Logan had looked at her askance when the appliances were delivered.

“I was getting tired of going out for food three times a day, or having it delivered,” she had explained with a shrug. “Besides, if I’m going to be mortal, I need to learn how to cook, not only for me, but for the baby.”

Mortal, she thought as she moved slowly up and down the aisles. Why did anyone want to be mortal? It was tiring, it was messy, and so far, it hadn’t been much fun. She picked up one item after another, studying the pictures on the cans and the boxes, reading the directions on the packages. She knew, of course, that hot dogs weren’t made from real dogs, and that Goldfish crackers weren’t made from goldfish, but what on earth was tofu?

She bought chocolate milk and bread sweetened with honey, several bags of miniature chocolate candy bars, chocolate-flavored cereal, and even chocolate-flavored coffee. Not exactly the kind of diet a pregnant woman was supposed to eat, she reminded herself, and with that thought in mind, she added some fruit to the cart—oranges because they smelled good, red apples because she liked the color, watermelon and peaches and pears, lettuce and tomatoes. She picked up a couple of thick steaks, and added a bottle of red wine for Logan. Lastly, she bought half a pound of rare roast beef and some cheese for sandwiches, and then headed for the checkout counter where the clerk and the box boy both flirted with her. She flirted back shamelessly, pleased that men, old and young, still found her attractive.

She was still smiling when the taxi pulled into Logan’s driveway. No doubt both the clerk and the box boy would have been shocked to know just how old she really was. The thought wiped the smile from her face. She had lived for thousands of years. How many years did she have left, now that she was becoming mortal? One? Ten? Twenty?

She didn’t want to die—not in twenty years, not in a hundred.

Blinking back tears, she paid the driver, then carried the groceries into the house. Why was this happening to her? And why now? Damn Kyle Bowden and his puppy dog eyes and his sexy smile. It was probably all his fault, she thought, putting the last of the groceries away. She had been fine until she met him.

“Hey, what’s this?” Logan asked, coming into the kitchen. “Why are you crying?”

Mara wiped the tears from her cheeks as Logan came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist. “I’m not.”

He kissed the side of her neck, then turned her around to face him. “Come on, tell me what’s wrong. The cost of groceries too high? They were out of Midnight Milky Way bars? You broke a fingernail?”

“Logan . . .”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “I’ve been online, reading up on what we should expect during your pregnancy.”

“Oh?”

He nodded. “It said pregnant women tend to be overly emotional. You know, hormones out of whack and everything.”

“I don’t want to be pregnant,” she wailed. “I don’t want to be mortal.” Mortals were weak, subject to illness and death. She could be hit by a car, struck by lightning. She could die in childbirth. Was death the end, or was there truly a life beyond this one? The thought of eternal damnation was even more frightening than the thought of dying. Not for the first time, she realized that if there was an afterlife, she was surely bound for Hell.

“I think we’ve covered this before.”

“I know.” She sniffed back her tears. Maybe Logan was right. Maybe she was just behaving this way because she was pregnant. Once the baby was born . . . She blew out a sigh of resignation. Once the baby was born, she would still be mortal. But Logan could fix that. Or could he? It was Ramsden’s opinion that she couldn’t be turned a second time.

No. She refused to believe that. It was just his best guess. She had to hold fast to the hope that Logan could bring her across once she got rid of the child. Even with the Dark Gift restored, she probably wouldn’t be the same as she had been before. She had been the most powerful vampire in the world, but she hadn’t gained her incomparable power overnight. No, it had taken centuries before she could walk in the sun’s light, centuries to gain the strength and abilities she had once possessed.

What would it be like, to be a fledgling again? To be under her master’s control? At least Logan loved her. He wouldn’t be cruel or condescending. He would treat her as an equal. Soon the baby would be born and she could put an end to this wretched existence. She just needed to be patient and all this would be over. If being a vampire had taught her anything, she thought as she rested her forehead against Logan’s chest, it was patience.

“You were thinking about me this morning,” Logan said, stroking her hair.

Startled, she looked up, her gaze searching his.

“Weren’t you?” He ran his knuckles over her cheek, his touch tender, sensual.

“Yes.” The word was little more than a whisper. She had been disturbed by her dream about Logan. Did he also know there were nights when she dreamed of Kyle? She felt discomfited, as though her mind had been violated. Had mortals felt this way, when she divined their thoughts? She wanted to be angry with him, but she couldn’t, not when he was stroking her hair, not when his gaze rested on her face.

“I’m here now,” he said quietly, and kissed her brow.

“Logan . . .” Why couldn’t she love him instead of Kyle?

“I’m here,” he murmured. “I’ll always be here.” And cupping her face in his hands, he kissed her gently.

She moaned softly as she leaned into him. His mouth was as warm and firm as she remembered. Why did she continue to think about a man who had scorned her? To wonder if things would have turned out differently if she had kept the truth to herself? Logan was worth a dozen Kyle Bowdens. So why did thoughts of Kyle continue to plague her? Maybe it was normal, all things considered. After all, she was carrying his child.

Logan’s arms tightened around her as his hands skimmed up and down her back, pressing her body closer to his. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes. No. Oh! I don’t know what I want anymore!”

“No?” He lifted one brow. “It’s what you wanted last night.”

She didn’t deny it. It was what she wanted now, too, but how could that be when she was in love with Kyle? Wasn’t she?

Logan brushed a kiss across her lips. “Past or present, it doesn’t matter. We were always good together.”

She stroked his cheek. “Yes, but . . .”

He took a step backward, his expression hardening. “You don’t want to get too involved.”

Mara folded her hands over her stomach. “It’s not that.”

“It won’t hurt the baby.”

Last night, swept up in a firestorm of passion, she hadn’t been thinking about the baby. “Are you sure? How do you know?”

“I told you, I’ve been reading about pregnancy, what to expect, what to do, and what not to do.”

She found it endearing, knowing he cared enough to read about her condition. She closed the short distance between them. Why not make love to Logan? He was here. He wanted her. And if she was going to be honest with herself, she definitely wanted him. “Are you sure it’s safe?”

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Very sure. I don’t have any diseases, and you’re already pregnant. What else is there to worry about?”

Kyle’s image flashed through her mind, and with it the memory of the last time they had made love. He had been so tender, so gentle. He had given her a bouquet of red roses, spread a furry blanket on the floor in front of the fire. He had undressed her, his gaze filled with adoration, his hands sure as they aroused her. Had their child been conceived that night?

Logan blew out a sigh. He didn’t have to read Mara’s mind to know she was thinking of someone else. “Why don’t you get some rest?” he suggested, reining in his jealousy. “I need to go out for a while.”

“I’m sorry I can’t go with you.”

“So am I. It’s been a long time since we hunted together.” He kissed her cheek. “I won’t be gone long.”

After leaving the house, Logan fed quickly, then strolled down Hollywood Boulevard along what was known as the Walk of Fame, which stretched from Gower Street to La Brea Avenue. From time to time he glanced down at one of the pink five-pointed stars rimmed in bronze that were embedded in the sidewalk. He had read somewhere that the Walk of Fame had been created in 1958. The first honoree had been Joanne Woodward back in 1960. Now, there were stars honoring over two thousand artists of radio, television, theater, and the recording industry. So many names—Houdini, Greta Garbo, Boris Karloff, Bob Hope, Elvis Presley, and Johnny Cash shared space with Walt Disney, Mickey Mouse and Snow White. There was even a star for Lassie.

He paused at the forecourt of Grauman’s Chinese Theatre, where famous celebrity handprints were preserved in cement. He wondered idly what it would be like, to be famous, to know that people would come to this place long after you were gone and stare at your handprints. He had outlived most of these famous folks, yet only a few people knew his name. Ah, well, fame, like life, was fleeting. The stars on Hollywood Boulevard, the handprints at Grauman’s, served to remind those in the present of those who had gone before. So many famous people, now mostly gone, and yet he remained, unchanged for centuries.

Moving on, his thoughts returned to Mara. He pictured her, resting back at his house. She had certainly changed. How was it possible that the world’s oldest vampire had metamorphosed back into a human? In time, would it happen to him, as well?

The thought was not a pleasant one. He enjoyed being a vampire, enjoyed the strength and power that came with being Nosferatu. He loved the night, the taste of warm, living blood on his tongue, the enhanced senses that made the world around him more vibrant and alive.

His thoughts returned to Mara. She had apologized for not being able to hunt with him. She was finding it harder to stay awake after midnight, she who had once prowled the shadows long after most mortals had gone to bed.

She was vulnerable now, needy. He had never known her to be anything but invincible. She had always been the bold one, the strong one. But no more. For the first time in their relationship, she needed him. But she didn’t want him. The thought burned like sunlight on preternatural flesh. She wanted the man who had used her. From thoughts he’d read in her mind, it was apparent that the man, Kyle, had turned away in revulsion when he discovered her true nature.

Anger erupted through Logan. With a savage cry, he slammed his hand against a brick wall. It crumbled beneath his fist.

Muttering an oath, he found himself thinking of the baby she carried. Would it be human, or vampire, or some bizarre combination of the two? He couldn’t imagine Mara with a child. Couldn’t imagine having a baby in his house.

A baby. Young. Innocent. With blood that was pure as only the blood of the very young could be. His tongue brushed his fangs at the thought. He had never killed a child though he had, on one occasion, dined on one. It had happened shortly after Mara left him. Angry and confused, wanting to hurt her, he had decided to end his existence. If she didn’t want him, then he had no reason to endure. And so, on a night in early spring, he had gone outside to wait for the rising of the sun. That sunrise was forever imprinted in his mind—the beauty of the sky as it lightened from indigo to gray to blue, the brilliant slashes of crimson and ocher that had streaked the heavens. The pain—he would never forget the pain as the sun’s bright golden light scorched his preternatural flesh. With an anguished cry, he had burrowed into the blessedly cool arms of the earth, deep into the welcome darkness, where he had slept the healing sleep of the Undead. When he rose the following night, he had found a young family on their way to the city. The man and the woman had been his dinner, the infant his dessert. It was his first taste of innocent blood; it was a taste he had coveted ever since. Ah, the warm, sweet nectar, now but a distant memory. He had avoided infants ever since, afraid he might succumb to the temptation, afraid that the next time, he wouldn’t be able to stop at a taste.

How could he have a child constantly underfoot, constantly tempting him? Once again his thoughts turned to Mara. She needed him now, but for how long? Would she stay here, with him, once the child was born? Or would she leave him again? Could he bear to let her go?

He had known many women in the course of his existence, more than he could count, more than he could recall. But Mara . . . He had never forgotten her. He remembered every moment they had spent together, every word she had spoken, every look, every gesture, every touch. Dammit, he couldn’t lose her again, he thought bleakly.

And then he smiled. He didn’t have to. If she wouldn’t stay with him of her own free will, well, there were ways to make her stay, ways to make her believe staying was her own idea.

Whistling softly, he headed for home and the woman he loved.

 

 

Mara sat on the sofa in front of the fireplace, a book of baby names open in her lap. Of course, before she made a decision, she would need to know if her baby was a boy or a girl. And then she wondered why she was even worrying about it. There was no room for a baby in her life. She knew nothing of being a mother. A baby, she thought. A boy, with Kyle’s eyes . . .