Acquainted With the Night (9781101546000) (55 page)

“It's a miracle. I'm over the moon.” She flung her arms around his neck, flattening her breasts against him. He leaned in to kiss her. Their lips fused, the way a finger will adhere to dry ice, and a current moved between them. His mouth tasted sweet, as if he'd been eating ripe, red fruit. Then the kiss changed into a crackling vortex. Oh, such pleasure.

Jude led Caro to the bed. The mattress creaked as he slipped in beside her. She helped him pull off his
galabiyyah
. There were no wounds or gauze dressings on his chest. Only two square Band-Aids. Her hand slid over the smooth flesh, past the springy hairs.

He kissed her, and the icy sweetness melted on her tongue. He was one of
them
now. Could he hear her thoughts? She pushed words in his direction:
Please don't be angry with me.
But he didn't respond; he hadn't heard.

A ticklish sensation leaped under her flesh as he swept back her robe. He slipped her bra strap down over her shoulder, then drew his fingers back and forth over her collarbone, barely touching her. Her body tensed with anticipation. She closed her eyes, feeling his desire for her blood, but something strong and protective moved beneath it. If he asked, she could grow acquainted with the night. She could give up the sun without regret. The night would be her new world, and as long as he was with her, she wasn't afraid. If he asked, she would leave her life and go with him.

He pulled off her
galabiyyah
. Cool air blew around her as he moved her hand to the pulsing between his legs. The shaft widened and curved. She wanted to feel it, taste it, rub down his length. Tingling started in her throat and shimmied into her chest. Tremors moved through her belly, then deeper into the very core of her being. As vibrations pulsed into her legs, she pointed her toes, and her calves trembled.

“Stop.” He tipped back his head, and his incisors lengthened. “You're pushing me to the edge.”

But she couldn't stop. She wanted to taste him again and again. All around her, the room glimmered, all hazy at the edges. Her hair drifted against him, each strand taut as thread, moving across his skin like a binding spell.

“Caro, no—” His face contorted. The muscles in his thighs and abdomen tensed. Cool, milky fluid jetted against the back of her hand and curved around her wrist. A thrill shot through her, and the thread tightened. Every square inch of her body thrummed, but she held still, afraid that if she moved, the fine cord would break.

Jude's breathing slowed, and he smiled a crooked smile, as if to say,
Let's have another go, shall we?

She smiled back.
Quite the randy fellow.
She'd just had the most intense sexual reaction in her life, and they hadn't been physically joined. Now she knew why vampires had groupies. The sex was transcendental.

He blinked as his length rose from the tight curls between his legs. She drew in a sharp breath.

Yes, oh, yes.
She reached for him, and he caught her hand. The M of his upper lip sharpened as he stared at her throat. “What if I lose control?”

“So could I.”

“But I want you more than I want air.” Candlelight flickered over his teeth. He kissed her neck, and his lips lingered on her pulse beat. She wanted him to press those fangs into her flesh. No, he mustn't. Wilkerson had said her blood was lethal to vampires. After the Turkish man and Georgi had bitten her, they'd suffered brief, but extreme, reactions. Coincidence? Or maybe Wilkerson had lied. So many untruths swirled around her; she didn't know what to believe. But she could not put Jude in danger.

“I'm not scared for myself, just for our baby,” she whispered. “But I don't think I can stay away from you.”

“There's got to be a way,” he said.

“Too bad we aren't in a city. I'd buy a dental device.” She smiled and touched his front teeth. “Like the wax that teenagers use for their braces. Or a mouth guard, like for sports.”

“You've given me an idea. Hold on.” Jude turned to the nightstand, lifted a burning candle from the holder, and rolled back to her. He drew in a breath and exhaled. The flame spit out and a dark ribbon curled up. Wax trickled onto Jude's wrist and instantly hardened.

“I won't be able to last. So no foreplay this time,” he said, shaping the warm candlestick into a U. His teeth sank into the soft candle, to keep him from biting her in his ecstasy.

He moved closer and drew his finger over her nipples, down to her navel, then inched lower and lower until he reached her cleft. She gasped and arched her back.

He moved into the space between her legs, smelling of cedar and incense, and then his face was directly above hers. He took a breath and sheathed himself inside her. She cried out, clutching his back. He withdrew and she lifted her hips to keep him inside her. With each thrust, his shoulders grew warmer, as if sucking heat from her flesh.

He pulled back again, teasing her, and she pressed her fists into his hips. A luminous rush of ice and fire surged just beneath her skin, stoking flames in her belly.

She wanted to kiss him, but she didn't dare dislodge the candle. She pressed her face into his chest. He lunged inside her, their bodies slick with perspiration. Her thoughts rose straight up and began to spin. Then she was spinning with them, weightless and twirling, sparking into a vast, black chasm.

He shuddered and a cool rush filled her. He groaned and bit the candle in half. Shards pattered in her hair and skittered to the sheet. The spinning slowed into lazy spirals, and the air went still.

A thundering noise sounded in the corridor. The door banged against the wall and Father Konstantine charged into the room.

“What the bloody hell?” Jude cried.

“This is not a sacrament.” Father Konstantine's cheeks pinkened as his gaze swept over the wax-strewn linen. “You are not man and wife.”

“Why are you here?” Jude blinked. “What in God's name is going on?”

“Yes, I want to know, too,” Caro said. “You told me Jude was dead.”

“Silence!” Father Konstantine reached for Caro's
galabiyyah
and red robe. He threw the clothing at her.

“Whore, cover your nakedness,” he said.

Jude's eyes blazed. “How dare you call her that? And why did you lie to her? What purpose would that serve to you, a man of God?”

Father Konstantine looked away. Caro's hands shook as she pulled on the clothing. Did the monk think Jude's condition was too precarious for lovemaking? More likely, he was morally outraged.

“Your whore does not understand.” Father Konstantine tucked his hands into his sleeves. “Your wounds have healed, but internally, you are still transforming. The urge to feed is all-powerful.”

“I've been bitten before,” Caro said. “And I'm not a whore.”

The monk gave her a freezing stare, then faced Jude. “Your unborn baby is a miracle. He is the last bit of you that is human. You can have more children, of course, but they will carry your immortal genes. The child must be protected. Therefore, the whore must be protected from your carnal desires.”

“I'd rip out my heart before I hurt her or the baby,” Jude said.

Father Konstantine shook his head. “You cannot be with her. You must fulfill the blood oath.”

“What ruddy oath?” Jude cried.

Two portly monks entered the room and seized Jude, pinning his arms behind his back.

Father Konstantine's hand clamped on Caro's elbow, and he steered her through the blue door, into the corridor. “Let me go, you stupid monk! My place is with Jude.”

“You have no place in this world.” Father Konstantine's voice pierced the empty hallway. “Jude is ours. And you are little more than seven pints of blood.”

“And you're a bloody cue ball!” She squirmed away, clawing his wrist. He grasped her shoulders, and shook hard. Her teeth clattered, and she bit her tongue.

“You set this in motion, woman. You gave permission for the cabal to turn him.”

“Cabal? What are you talking about?”
Raphael, where are you? Damn you.

“You need to know only one fact.” Father Konstantine's lips curled over his teeth.

Like the wild dogs in my dream.
Blood pooled in Caro's mouth, and she swallowed.

The monk's eyes narrowed. “Jude resisted the change because he did not want to be immortal. Now, he's become the one thing he despises. And you gave the order.”

“To save him.” She struggled to control her voice, but little streaks of terror broke loose.

“Yes, you saved his life, but the cost was his soul.” The monk's bitter laugh held in the air. “Now he will live a thousand years. And a thousand more. In the dark.”

She kicked him in the groin. An explosive gasp hissed through his teeth, but he didn't loosen his grip.

Konstantine slapped her, hard. She fell against the wall, stunned, as if a pot of cold, black coffee had spilled behind her eyes. He pulled her out of the corridor, across the courtyard, toward the main entrance of the basilica.

“Where the hell are you taking me?” Her words struck the cold night air like a series of claps.

As he still gripped her, his free hand flung open the church's carved wooden doors. He pushed her inside, and she sprawled in the aisle. His robe waffled as he scurried back into the hall. He slammed the doors and a scraping noise reverberated, as if a bolt were dropping down. Oh, God. No. He was locking her inside the church.

She scrambled to her feet and slapped her hands against the doors. Damn him. “You can't hold me captive!”

“You will be released when Brother Jude has left Egypt,” the monk called from his side of the door. “Until then, I will pray for the soul of your bastard child.”

 

White altar candles fluttered as Caro ran through the basilica, searching for an exit. All doors were fastened, and the windows were ten feet above her head. She shivered, and her breath rose in an ivory thread. She pulled the red robe around her and started down the center aisle, past flaming candelabras in tiered brass holders.

Shadows flitted over the gilded iconostasis as she slipped into a pew and put her face into her hands. Great, gulping sobs escaped her throat. She cried so hard it hurt to breathe. Each intake of air sent a sharp crackle through her ribs as if the bones were made of glass. How long did Father Konstantine plan to keep her locked up? Until the baby was born? How many other monks were on his side?

She wiped her face on her robe and tilted her head. Above her, ostrich eggs hung from the ceiling by slender chains. The egg, an ancient symbol of rebirth. Her chest tightened, stirring sharp, insatiable pangs. Jude's whole biology had been altered, along with his concept of time, and it was her fault. Now, he was on intimate terms with darkness. As long as human blood flowed through her heart, their time together was finite. Years after she and their child had turned to dust, Jude would be here. Time would flow around him like the fine bits of sand that passed through the monastery's outer walls.

Raphael's voice floated into her mind just as clearly as if he'd been sitting beside her.
Hold tight,
mia cara
, I am coming.

A shuddering noise echoed outside the church. The doors creaked open, and a draft stirred the candles. Raphael shut the doors, then walked down the aisle gripping a metal briefcase and a burlap sack.

He genuflected in the center aisle, then squeezed into her pew next to her and set the briefcase and sack on the floor.

“It's about time you showed up,” she said. “What's in the sack? It better not be ticking.”

“No bomb,
mia cara
.” Raphael's jaw tightened, and tears beaded in his lashes. “This is all my fault. I shouldn't have brought you and Jude to Egypt.”

She grabbed his sleeve. “I want answers.”

“Jude's being moved to a treatment facility near Istanbul.”

She sprang to her feet “Is he still injured?”

“Sit,
mia cara
. His wounds have healed, but his body chemistry is still evolving. He'll need transfusions and a complete orientation to vampirism.”

She eased back into the pew and cast a sidelong glance at Raphael. “How long will it take?”

“Six months. Maybe less.”

“Then I can be with Jude?”

Raphael shook his head.

She narrowed her eyes. “When?”

“Never.”

“What?” A sick feeling uncurled in her belly, and she grasped the pew in front of her.

“Jude will eventually be put to work in a laboratory,” Raphael said.

“A lab?” She let go of the pew and crossed her arms. “He won't go.”

“It's mandatory.”

“Says who? You and Konstantine?”

“I have no part of this.”

“Who does?” Her breath came in short gasps.

“The monks who resurrected Jude are members of the Salucard Foundation.”

“The what?” she asked.

“It's a nonprofit organization. Trustees and directors are composed of influential vampires from around the globe.”

“And that includes bald monks with reptilian eyes?”

“They're dedicated to the protection and preservation of immortals. The cabal at Saint Catherine's safeguards our history, culture, and artifacts. They are maniacal about the prophecy. They believe the child you carry is the baby in the fresco on Mount Sinai.”

“How would they know I'm pregnant? I'll tell you how. You told them!”