Desire After Dark (15 page)

“Falco's not the only killer in town,” he said brusquely. “I caught your boyfriend red-handed tonight.”

“I don't believe you!”

“I saw him with my own eyes. He was holding the body in his arms.”

Vicki shook her head. “No.”

“Yes. She was just a kid, maybe eighteen or nineteen.”

“He told me he didn't kill when he…that he didn't have to take life.”

“Well, he sure as hell took this one. I took her body to the morgue myself. She didn't have enough blood left to fill a teacup.”

The image made her sick to her stomach. Pressing one hand to her mouth, she unlocked the front door and dashed into the bathroom. Bending over the toilet, she was violently ill.

Tom was there to hand her a damp towel when she got up. “Do you know where he is?”

Vicki wiped her face, then rinsed her mouth. “No,” she said dully. “I haven't seen him since he drove me to work.”

“I don't know what his game is,” Duncan said, “but I don't have to tell you that you're in danger. Whatever you do, don't let him in.”

“But if he meant to hurt me, he's had plenty of opportunities to do so.”

Duncan shrugged. “Like I said, I don't know what his game is. Maybe he likes to pick one girl and string her along until he decides to leave town.”

Vicki tossed the towel into the hamper. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I know that you…” He made a vague gesture with one hand. “I know you liked him.”

“It never would have worked anyway.” She wanted to make Tom think it didn't matter, that Antonio hadn't meant that much to her. She failed miserably.

Tom gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Do you want me to stay?”

“No.” All she wanted was to be alone with her broken heart.

“Are you sure? I don't like the idea of you being here alone.”

“I'm sure.”

“You've got my number. Call me if you need me.”

“I will.”

She walked him to the door, stood there while he climbed into the Camaro and drove away. With a sigh, she closed and locked the door. If she didn't have the worst luck in the world with men, she didn't know who did. Not only was Antonio a vampire, he was a liar and a killer.

She was about to go to bed when she heard a knock at the back door. Alarm skittered through her. Should she answer? She clutched the crucifix at her throat. Was it Falco, trying to trick her again?

She called, “Who's there?” when the caller knocked a second time.

“Antonio.”

“Go away. You're not welcome here.”

“Victoria, I can explain.”

“No.” She shook her head, her hand tightening around the thick silver cross. “You lied to me! Tom told me everything. He saw you.”

“Victoria, please listen to me. I did not kill her. It was Falco.”

“I don't believe you!”

She waited a moment and when there was no reply, she pressed her ear to the door. Hearing nothing, she drew back the curtain. Antonio was standing near the door, bathed in a slender ray of moonlight, one hand pressed against his left cheek. His eyes were closed. Was he hurt?

She was about to turn away when she spied a dark figure moving stealthily toward the house. A figure with glowing yellow eyes.

With a wordless cry, she flung the door open, grabbed Antonio by the arm, and dragged him into the kitchen.

Heart pounding, she slammed the door in Dimitri Falco's face.

His scream of outrage rattled the windows. He stared at her through the glass, his eyes burning with hatred.

“You will be mine!” he screeched. “Though I kill a hundred women, nay a thousand before I take you, you will be mine!”

And so saying, he vanished from her sight.

Turning away from the door, Vicki stared at Antonio's back. She was alone in the house with a vampire, a vampire who Duncan was convinced had just killed a young woman.

Maybe she should have let Antonio and Falco fight it out again. Maybe they would have killed each other this time. But even as that uncharitable thought crossed her mind, she knew she couldn't have let that happen, because deep in her heart, she didn't want to believe Antonio had lied to her.

Moving in front of him, she saw that his hand still covered his cheek.

“Are you all right? Can I—Oh my Lord!” she exclaimed when she saw his chest. “You're bleeding! What happened?”

“Duncan shot me.”

“Here,” she said, pulling a chair out from the kitchen table, “sit down.”

“Do not fret, Victoria. I will be all right.”

“Yes, yes, I know, supernatural healing and all that. Sit.”

He dropped into the chair.

“Let me see,” she said, reaching for his hand.

“No, Victoria.”

“Let me see.” She pulled his hand away from his cheek, and wished that she hadn't. The left side of his face was badly burned. In some places, it was black. The burns extended beyond his cheek. Blisters were scattered down the side of his neck, and when she eased his shirt away, she saw that they continued across his shoulder and down his arm. “What happened?”

“He threw holy water on me before he shot me.”

She had read that holy water repelled vampires. She'd had no idea that it burned them so badly. She knew he had tremendous healing powers but this…She had never seen anything so ugly.

Unbuttoning his shirt, she slipped it off his shoulders, revealing a smattering of more burned flesh and a small, neat hole in his chest only a few inches away from his heart. It seemed odd that the bullet had done less damage. The bleeding had stopped. Even as she watched, the angry redness around the wound faded, the hole grew smaller and then just disappeared.

“Amazing,” she murmured. “Simply amazing.” She looked at his cheek again. “I've got some first aid cream. It might ease the pain.”

He looked doubtful, but she had to feel like she was doing something to help, no matter how insignificant it might be.

He sat unmoving while she smeared the ointment on his cheek, down his neck, over his shoulder and down his arm.

And all the while Tom's warning voice echoed in the back of her head.
You're in danger. Don't let him in.

Capping the jar, she put it on the counter. “You didn't kill that girl, did you? Tell me you didn't.”

“I did not kill her.” He looked up, his gaze searching hers. “I found Falco with her. She was already dead.”

She folded her arms over her breasts. “Every woman he kills from now on will be my fault.”

“No!” Rising, he reached for her, then dropped his arms to his sides. “You are not responsible for anything that madman does. You cannot blame yourself.”

“You heard what he said! He said he didn't care if he had to kill thousands of girls before he got to me.”

“Victoria, he will continue to kill until he is destroyed. It is what he does, what he has always done.”

“Then why does he want me so badly? What makes me any different from any of the others?”

“Perhaps because I want you.”

I want you.
Three simple words spoken so fervently that, for a moment, she could think of nothing else but being in his arms, succumbing to the heat in his eyes, the longing so evident in his voice. A yearning that echoed her own unspoken longing.

Needing to touch him, she lifted a finger to his ravaged cheek. “Does it hurt very much?”

“Like hellfire.”

“Are you sure it will heal?”

“In time.” He took her hand in his, his thumb moving slowly back and forth over her knuckles. “Why did you let me in? I am sure Duncan warned you not to, yet you did not listen.”

She stared at his hand holding hers. “I didn't want to believe him.”

He lifted one brow. “So you brought me into your home to see whether or not I would rip out your throat?” he asked, amusement heavy in his voice.

She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “I saw Falco coming after you and…” She shrugged. “I could tell you were hurt and I was afraid if the two of you got into another fight that…”

“You were worried about me?” He laughed. The soft, sexy sound moved over her like black velvet. “Ah, my sweet, you are like no other woman I have ever known.”

She stared at the light dusting of curly black hair that covered his broad chest, at the finely sculpted muscles in his arms and shoulders, the ridge of muscle across his belly, and felt a sudden stirring of desire. She tamped it down. This was no time to be admiring his masculine beauty. He was badly hurt. There was a vampire out there who wanted to kill her, who had vowed to kill and kill again until she was his.

“What does he mean, exactly, when he says I'll be his?”

“You do not want to know. Just trust me when I say he will never have you.”

He was right, she didn't want to know, but she couldn't let it go. “He wants to kill me,” she said. “What could be worse than that?”

Battista resumed his seat at the table. After a moment, Victoria sat down across from him.

“There are many things worse than death,” he said. “Falco wants to own you, body and soul. If that happens, you will be his slave, subject to his every whim, his every desire. You will have no will of your own, no mind of your own.”

“You're talking about more than just hypnotism, aren't you?”

Antonio nodded. It was much more than a mere hypnotic spell. It was like stealing a mortal's identity and leaving nothing behind but an empty shell whose only thoughts were those fed into it by its master.

Vicki looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. “Can you do that?”

He nodded again, his gaze hard on hers.

“How can you do it? I mean, how is it done?”

“Vampires have many supernatural powers.”

She had come across some of them in her reading, but she had shrugged them aside. Even though she now knew vampires existed, she wasn't sure she believed that they could control the weather or turn into mist or wolves, or that they could manipulate people's minds. But then she remembered Antonio had said he called his prey to him. If he could do that, maybe he could also do all the other things the books claimed. If so, it meant he could also fly, control animals, and, worst of all, make other vampires. She wondered if he had done so.

It was a sobering thought.

His eyes narrowed under her scrutiny. “You are afraid of me again. Why?”

“What? Oh, no, nothing.”

“Victoria, your face is as easy to read as print on a page.”

“Have you ever made another vampire?”

“No. It is a responsibility I have never wanted.”

“What do you mean?”

“It is a life against nature, to be a vampire. Not everyone can adjust to such a life. Some go mad, like Falco. I have enough deaths on my conscience. Had I brought someone like Falco across, I would have all his deaths on my conscience, as well.”

It was too much to think of now. She glanced at the clock. It was almost two A.M. She needed to get some sleep.

“Maybe you should stay here tonight,” she suggested.

“No.”

“Why not?”

There were few things on earth he feared more than being found when he was at rest, vulnerable and nearly helpless. Though it pained him to admit it, he trusted no one to know where he took his rest, not even this woman he had come to love.

“Antonio? Why can't you stay here? You can sleep in my bedroom and shut the door and I'll sleep on the sofa.”

“I wish I could stay,” he said, “but…”

“You're probably right,” she said. “Duncan was here earlier tonight. I'd hate for him to come back tomorrow and find you here.”

Battista glanced out the window. It would be dawn in a few hours.

“Can I get you anything before you go?” Vicki asked, then bit down on her lip. She had nothing to offer him.
Nothing but blood.
The words tiptoed through the back of her mind.

As though reading her thoughts, Antonio stared at the pulse beating in her throat. Though he had fed earlier, he needed to feed again. Fresh blood would help him heal faster, ease the pain of his wounds which, even now, burned with all the fires of an unforgiving hell.

Vicki's eyes widened. One hand flew to her throat.

“You are safe from me, my sweet one,” he said quietly. Rising, he reached for his bloodstained shirt and shrugged it on. He needed to feed before he sought his rest.

“Should you go out there now?” Victoria asked. “What if Falco's waiting? Or Duncan?”

“I must go.”

“You're going out to…hunt, aren't you?”

He didn't deny it.

“Please don't go.”

“Victoria, I appreciate your concern more than you know, but I need to feed to restore my strength. If I do not, I will grow weaker. I cannot afford that now.” He needed to be strong if he was going to protect her. It had become his reason for existing. He had not realized how empty his existence had become until he met her. Knowing she would be there when he rose filled each night with new possibilities.

“Does it hurt?” she asked.

“Does what hurt?”

“When you bite them, does it hurt?”

“No. It can be most pleasurable, especially if one is willing.”

“Pleasurable! How? I had a dog bite me once. Believe me, there was nothing pleasant about it.”

“But I am not a dog, my sweet one. The bite of a vampire can be a sensual thing. There are those who are addicted to it.”

Hardly aware of what she was doing, she lifted a hand to her throat.

Battista followed the movement, his gaze again settling on the hollow of her throat. He listened to the beat of her heart, his nostrils filling with the sweet scent of her life's blood. He smelled the heat of her skin. It mingled with the scent of toothpaste and shampoo, soap and deodorant. And woman. A woman who was in the prime of life, vibrant and untouched.

He felt the prick of his fangs against his tongue as his hunger thrummed within him. No man had ever touched her. No vampire had ever tasted her. It was a potent combination, and a powerful temptation. No wonder Falco wanted her.

He rose abruptly. “I must go.”

“Wait.” She looked up at him, her eyes wide, her breathing erratic. “Promise me you'll only take a little.”

She heard the words and couldn't believe that she had said them. Only days ago she had been so sure she would never ask him to do such a thing.

Battista stared at her, unable to believe his ears, afraid to believe for fear she was playing some cruel joke. He clenched his hands at his sides to keep from pulling her into his arms. “You need not do this.”

“No, I want to. If you're going out tonight, you need to be strong.”

He held out his hand. “Come, then.”

Putting her hand in his, she followed him into the living room. He sat down on the sofa, drawing her down beside him.

“Relax,” he murmured. “I will not hurt you.”

She swallowed hard, her gaze fixed on his.

“Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Please.”

She did as he asked, her body tensing as he drew her into his arms. His kiss was gentle, his lips warm. He kissed her for a long time until she relaxed in his arms. He stroked the line of her back, kissed her cheeks, the curve of her throat.

She moaned softly, lost in a mindless sea of pleasure. He nuzzled the soft skin behind her ear, laved it with his tongue. She felt a brief sting, like a mosquito bite, and then the heat of his mouth on her skin.

A distant part of her mind told her she should be afraid, she should push him away, what he was doing was horribly, terribly wrong, but she didn't care. Never had anything felt so wonderful.

She whimpered softly when he drew his mouth away. She looked up at him through a red haze, or was it that his eyes were red? She felt a tiny spark of fear push its way through the lassitude that suffused her. What if Duncan had been right? What if she was in danger? She tried to be concerned, but being afraid required too much energy.

With a sigh, she closed her eyes and drifted away.

Battista cradled Victoria in his arms. A drop of blood slid down her neck. He watched it a moment before licking it away. Never had he tasted anything so sweet. The heart he had thought long dead stirred within his breast as he gazed down at her. Never had he seen anything more beautiful, or more vulnerable.