Desire After Dark (28 page)

“Thanks, Arnie.”

The blaring of horns and a few distant gunshots announced the arrival of the new year.

Arnie held out his arms and waited, letting the decision be hers. She hesitated only a moment, then moved into his embrace and let him kiss her. There were no bells, no skyrockets. It was just a friendly kiss. A few minutes later, she pleaded a headache and asked Arnie to take her home.

After getting ready for bed and making sure all the doors and windows were locked, she sat in front of her bedroom window and stared into the darkness, wondering where Antonio was. Had he spent the evening at the castle with Lady Kathryn? Or had he spent it with another woman? Had he kissed her at midnight and wished her a happy new year?

She let the tears come then because it was too painful to hold them back any longer. Later, lying in bed feeling sorry for herself, she resolved to put Antonio Battista out of her mind once and for all.

And it worked, too, until she woke up the next morning.

Trying to forget Antonio was like trying to give up chocolate. No matter how good her intentions were, sooner or later she had to give in. The longest she had ever gone without chocolate was a day and a half. The longest she managed to go without thinking of Antonio was an hour and a half, while she took a nap. And then, even though she wasn't consciously thinking of him, he was there, in her dreams, his dark eyes filled with a yearning that matched her own. In her dreams, she could be with him. Never before had she had dreams that were so realistic. She could taste him and touch him, hear his voice, inhale his heady masculine scent. He beckoned to her and she obeyed, surrendering her body to his touch, fulfilling his every desire as he fulfilled hers. She went to bed earlier each night, eager to be in the arms of her phantom lover, to hear his voice whispering that he loved her.

It was pathetic, she thought as she went to bed that night, that her dreams were happier and more fulfilling than her current reality. But if she couldn't have Antonio in the flesh, she would settle for whatever she could get.

 

Antonio lay on his back in the bed she had slept in, her pillow beneath his head. Her scent filled his nostrils; her image was constantly in his mind. Try as he might, there was no escaping her.

Soon after he had returned to the castle, he had gone in search of female companionship. The girl, Steffie, had been about Victoria's age, but that was where the similarity ended. Steffie had lived a hard life. The knowledge was there, in her eyes, in the harsh lines around her eyes and mouth, in her cynical expression when she told him what it would cost him to have her spend the night.

He had taken her to an expensive hotel, fully intending to bed her and hopefully ease his ache for Victoria. But nothing had happened. He had looked at her and felt nothing but disgust, not for her, but for himself. He had slipped her an extra fifty, told her to stay and enjoy the room, and left her there.

Now, he closed his eyes, courting sleep. He was a vampire, a creature who was alive only during the hours of darkness, yet these nights he sought sleep at the time when he was usually the most active. Sleep. He stalked it relentlessly, needing it as he needed blood to survive. In sleep, he could walk in her dreams. He could hold her and love her as he so longed to do. In her dreams, she did not resist him. In dreams, she was his, only his, eager for his touch, for his kisses. In sleep, her inhibitions were few and easily overcome. It was wrong, and he knew it, but he could no more resist invading her dreams than he could resist the need to quench his unholy thirst. He had let her go. Surely, he deserved some kind of reward for such an unselfish act. If he could not have her in the flesh, he would settle for whatever he could get.

 

February came, and with it, a flurry of activity. There was a wedding shower for Bobbie Sue and wedding rehearsals and suddenly it was Valentine's Day. Vicki had been surprised to learn that Bobbie Sue and Duncan had decided to be married at night so Ramsey and his wife could attend. But maybe it wasn't so surprising at that. After all, Duncan and Ramsey had been best friends for years before Ramsey was turned.

Vicki cried as she watched Bobbie Sue and Tom kiss after they had exchanged their vows. She wept because she was truly happy for her best friend. She wept because she was green with envy for the happiness she saw in Bobbie Sue's eyes. She wept because she missed Antonio. Her heart ached for him, constantly yearning for something she could never have. She knew he had left her because he thought it was the right thing to do, because he didn't want to deprive her of the chance to live a normal life, have children and grandchildren. But what good was a normal life if she couldn't share it with the man she loved?

After the wedding, she met Edward Ramsey's wife. Kelly Ramsey was lovely. Tall and slender, she had long, wavy black hair and brown eyes. Vicki also met Grigori Chiavari and his wife, Marisa. She wondered what the other guests would think if they knew there were vampires in their midst.

Later, standing quietly beside Bobbie Sue while Duncan and his vampire friends reminisced, Vicki studied the vampires. If she hadn't known differently, she would never have guessed that Duncan's friends were vampires and yet…Vicki studied Edward and Kelly and Grigori and Marisa. There was something about them, something elusive that they shared with Antonio. After a time, she realized it was the allure of the vampire, that innate charisma that allowed the Undead to seduce their prey so easily.

Grigori Chiavari reminded her a great deal of Antonio. They were both handsome and charming, with smiles that few women could resist. They had the same rugged athletic build, the same long black hair, though Antonio's eyes were dark blue and Grigori's were black.

Marisa Chiavari was petite, with shoulder-length dark brown hair and green eyes. She and Grigori looked good together, she small and feminine, he the epitome of male perfection. Grigori never missed a chance to touch his wife. It was obvious that he adored her, as she adored him.

Jealousy streaked through Vicki when she saw the way Grigori and Marisa looked at each other.

Only when like marries like
. The words repeated themselves in Vicki's mind as the night wore on.

Grigori had brought Marisa across.

Ramsey had brought Kelly across.

Vicki frowned. Why couldn't Antonio bring her across? Deep inside, hadn't she always known that was the only answer? Why hadn't Antonio suggested it? Why hadn't she?

Because, like it or not, a small part of her was repulsed by the mere idea of becoming what he was.

It was a truth she didn't want to acknowledge, but the truth nevertheless.

She studied the vampire couples during the rest of the evening, wondering if it would be rude to take Kelly and Marisa aside and ask them the hundreds of questions running through her mind. Did they miss being mortal? Were they ever sorry they had accepted the Dark Gift? Would they do it again? Did they ever miss the daylight world? Did they miss eating and drinking, walks in the park, bright summer days, watching the beauty of a sunset, the promise of a sunrise? Did they regret giving up the chance to have children? If given the chance, would they return to mortality?

On the outside, Kelly and Marisa seemed perfectly happy with their vampire state and hopelessly in love with their husbands.

Vicki blew out a sigh. Did she love Antonio enough to take the step Marisa and Kelly had taken to be with the men they loved?

It was a thought that preyed on Vicki's mind long after the reception was over.

Did she want to be a vampire? Did she want to give up the sun and drink blood to survive? Did she want to give up all hope of having a family?

Did she want to spend the rest of her life without Antonio?

No!

Day after day, she weighed the pros and cons. And every night when she lay in bed, alone and lonely, she asked herself if she was making the right decision, a decision that, once made, could not be unmade. It wasn't like a bad haircut that would eventually grow out. It wasn't like picking out the wrong shade of lipstick or the wrong pair of shoes. This was a life-altering event. If she wasn't happy with the fit, she couldn't take it back.

In the eight days it took her to make up her mind, Vicki bought a disposable camera and had Bobbie Sue take her picture from every possible angle so that she wouldn't forget what she looked like when looking in a mirror was no longer possible. She had her eyebrows tattooed so that she would never have to mess with applying eyebrow pencil again. She indulged her passion for chocolate. She had always tanned quickly and she spent hours sunbathing in the nude until she was a nice golden shade of brown, all over. She got up early to watch the sun rise. She stopped in at the Curl and Dye for a trim and got a manicure and a pedicure while she was at it. She went to lunch with Bobbie Sue a couple of times, called her mother and her sister and told them she was going on a long vacation and not to worry if they didn't hear from her for a while.

She spent time with Mrs. Heath. The woman was amazing, Vicki thought. Now that she was no longer afraid to leave the house after dark, Mrs. Heath had become quite a gadabout. She played bingo at the church on Monday night, went to the monthly midnight sidewalk sales and the late movie, and sat out in her garden in the evening.

After eight days and nights of “should I or shouldn't I,” Vickie called Gus and quit her job. She withdrew her savings from the bank. She called the utility companies and turned off the gas, water, electricity, and the phone. She didn't tell Bobbie Sue where she was going for fear that her friend might talk her out of it.

She closed up her house and then, without a backward glance, she hopped into her car and went in search of her vampire.

Antonio prowled the empty rooms and lonely halls of the castle like a caged beast. He had done what was best for Victoria, that was the important thing. No matter that he felt as though his heart had been torn from his chest, or that he had given up his best reason for existing. He loved her with his whole being and because he loved her, he had let her go. In time, he would forget her.

He laughed harshly, humorlessly. Time. If there was one thing he had in abundance, it was time. And never had it passed so slowly. Every day without Victoria seemed like an eternity. He took no pleasure in rising, or in feeding. He had growled at Lady Kathryn so often she had gone into hiding, leaving him more alone than ever.

Alone and in darkness. Strange, he thought, he had lived for centuries cloaked in the shadows of the night, but he had never realized how dark his life was until the light of Victoria's love was no longer there to illuminate his heart and soul.

Victoria. Her scent filled every room in the castle. Her memory filled his every waking thought. He started to go after her a hundred times, but he always turned back. No matter how much he regretted letting her go, it was for the best.

He swore under his breath. Whose best? Not his! Never his.

Did she ever think of him?

Had she found someone else?

He slammed his fist against the wall. Pain vibrated up his arm. Blood oozed from his knuckles. He hit the wall again and again, breaking through paint, plaster and mortar.

He drew his arm back, ready to strike again, when he heard a knock at the front door.

Frowning, he glanced over his shoulder. Who would be coming to call at this hour of the night? He laughed humorlessly. Who would be coming to call on him at any hour?

He wrenched the door open, his angry words dying in his throat when he saw her standing there. He shook his head, unable to believe his eyes. He had dreamed of her, thought of her, yearned for her for so long, he was sure his lonely heart had conjured her image. An indrawn breath carried her scent to him.

Still unconvinced, he stroked her cheek. Soft feminine flesh, warm with life.

“Victoria?” She wore a pair of jeans that clung to her like a second skin, a black knit sweater, and a pair of fur-lined boots. Her hair fell over her shoulders in shimmering chestnut waves. In six hundred and twelve years, he had never seen anything more beautiful.

“Hello, Antonio.”

“What are you doing here?” He drank in the sight of her. What difference did it make why she was here? She was here, and that was all that mattered. He thanked a generous Fate for allowing him to see her one more time.

“Are you going to invite me in?”

He stepped back. “You need no invitation. You will always be welcome in my home.”

She crossed the threshold, and he followed her into the parlor. His hungry gaze moved over her, every fiber of his being yearning toward her. “Is something wrong?”

She turned to face him. “That depends on you.”

He shook his head. “I do not understand.”

“Do you love me, Antonio?”

“You know that I do.”

“Then you know that I love you, too.”

“We have been through this before.”

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” she said, moving toward him.

He thought of a hundred reasons why he should send her away, but when he tried to put them into words, they no longer made sense.

“Will you share your life with me, Antonio?”

Unable to deny the urgings of his own heart any longer, he nodded. Right or wrong, he wanted her, all of her, for however long she was willing to put up with him and his unnatural lifestyle.

“I asked Ramsey to bring me across.”

Her words slammed into him with the force of a stake through the heart. He stared at her, too stunned to speak. Opening his senses, he searched for some hint of supernatural power. To his relief, he found none.

Vicki shrugged. “He wouldn't do it.”

“Why?” he asked incredulously. “Why on earth would you ask him to do such a thing?”

She looked at him as if he weren't too bright. “Because I want to be what you are, of course. Because it's the only way we can ever truly be together.”

“He was right to refuse you,” Antonio said. “A decision like that—”

“He said you should do it.”

Antonio stared at her, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

“Will you? Or will I have to search the world for a vampire who will bring me across?”

“You are determined to do this thing?”

“Yes. Very.”

“My warrior woman.” He drew her into his arms. “You must be sure, sweeting. Once it is done, it cannot be undone.”

“I'm sure. I've thought about it for weeks and weeks.” She looked up at him, frowning. “You do know how to do it, don't you?”

“Yes, I know how, though I have never made another vampire.”

“Good.”

“There is no hurry. When you are ready, let me know.”

“I'm ready now. I want to share your life, all of it. I don't want to waste a minute.”

“You will not age. Are you sure this is the age you wish to be from now on?”

She thought about that. She was twenty-two, old enough to know what she wanted. She could wait a year or two or five and still be young, but what if something happened to her while she was waiting? She was in good health now, but could get deathly ill or hit by a truck or, heaven forbid, become the target of another madman with a penchant for redheads.

“I'm sure.”

He swept her into his arms and carried her up the stairs to the bedroom. At his nod, a fire sprang to life in the hearth.

Gently, he placed her on the bed, then sat down beside her and drew her into his arms.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide. “Are you going to bite me now?”

“Yes, but there is more to it than that.”

“Will it hurt?” she asked tremulously.

“No,” he said, and then he explained how it was done, that he would take her blood and then she would take his. Her earthly body would die and when she awoke, she would be as he was, a creature of the night.

“Are you still sure this is what you want?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“You must remove your crucifix.”

Vicki wrapped her hand around the thick silver cross. She had worn it for almost as long as she could remember. How could she take it off?

He read the pain and confusion in her eyes. And waited.

“Will I still feel the same about everything when I'm a vampire?”

“That is up to you. You need not surrender your faith or your beliefs. There are priests and rabbis among the Undead. They are men who did not ask for the Dark Gift, but who have adjusted to it and manage to continue to live their religion, though slightly modified. Becoming a vampire is like mortal death. Whatever a man is in this life is what he takes with him into the next world. The same is true of becoming a vampire. A man who was a liar when he was alive will be a liar when he is turned, just as an honest man will remain an honest man when he becomes a vampire.”

She thought that over for a moment and then she removed the cross and chain and wrapped it in a hanky she pulled from the pocket of her jeans. She held it tightly for a moment and then placed it in the back of the bottom dresser drawer. When she closed the drawer, she knew she had also closed a door on one chapter of her life. Tonight, a new chapter would begin.

She looked deep into Antonio's eyes, dark blue eyes filled with love and hope, and then she sat down beside him and kissed him.

With a low groan, he tightened his arms around her. He fell back on the bed, carrying her with him, his mouth working its familiar magic, carrying her to places she had never been before, making her forget everything but her need for this man in her life.

She felt the brush of his fangs against her neck, a sudden rush of heat followed by waves of intense pleasure. She knew a moment of fear as all the strength seemed to leave her body. The world grew dark, and she was falling, falling, her hold on life growing weaker as she fell into the darkness.

And then she heard Antonio's voice calling her back, telling her that he loved her, that she must fight to live. Must drink.

He pressed something warm to her mouth and she drank, drank his life and his memories.

“Sleep now, my sweetest one.” His hand stroked her brow. “When you awake tomorrow, I will show you the world as you have never seen it before. Sleep…”

Filled with an aching tenderness, Antonio gazed at the woman in his arms. He had not prayed since he was turned, but he prayed now, prayed fervently that he had not made a terrible mistake, that she would not hate him for doing what she had asked.

He wiped the blood from her mouth. Though he had never slept in this bed, he knew Victoria would not want to awake in a coffin; indeed, he had a feeling he would be taking his rest in a bed from now on.

After removing her shoes, he tucked her under the covers, fully clothed, and then he went through the castle, making certain all the wards were in place. They would sleep here tonight; tomorrow, he would move the bed to a more secure location. But tonight…Tonight, for the first time in his preternatural life, he would take his rest beside a woman he loved.

Tonight, he thought as he stretched out beside her. Tonight, and for all his tomorrows.

 

She didn't want to wake up. She felt warm and secure and at peace for the first time in her life. Sighing, she turned onto her side, remembering the dream she'd had the night before. It was very like the dreams she'd had before, the ones with the golden goblet, only this time she had been the one to drink the contents, and in doing so, she had become a vampire. One of the Undead. A creature of the night.

Eyes still closed, she frowned. Had it been a dream? It had seemed so real. Fully awake now, she realized that she was vividly aware of the texture and smell of the cotton pillowcase beneath her cheek. She knew the sun had set. She knew it was raining.

She knew she wasn't alone in the bed.

“Good evening, my sweet one.”

“Antonio.” She rolled over and he was there. Propped up on one elbow, he was watching her, his expression oddly vulnerable. “What happened?”

“You do not remember?”

“No…” She looked past Antonio, only then realizing that not only could she see him clearly, but she could also see everything else in the room with perfect clarity even though the room was dark. “You did it, didn't you? You made me a…” She stared at him. “A vampire.”

He nodded, his expression closed to her. “Do you hate me now?”

“Hate you?” Sitting up, she looked at her hands, her arms. She threw back the covers and wiggled her toes. “I don't feel any different, and yet…”

Everything was different. She felt as if she had been reborn, as if she could run forever and never get tired. As if she could fly to the moon and back again.

She looked back at Antonio. He was sitting up now, and she noticed he wasn't wearing a shirt, only a pair of black trousers. She couldn't stop looking at him. Had his lips always been that sensual, his shoulders so broad, his arms so muscular? He looked incredibly sexy, with his sleep-tousled hair and deep blue eyes, eyes that watched her, unblinking, waiting for her to answer his question. Hate him? Not if she lived a thousand years, she thought. And she just might!

“Victoria?”

She heard the rough edge of worry in his voice, saw it in the taut set of his shoulders.

“Talk to me,” he said. “Tell me what you are feeling, what you are thinking. Have I made a mistake? Have you changed your mind?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“Are you going to marry me, Mr. Battista? I mean, I'm dying to…” She laughed softly. “Wrong choice of words. I mean I'm really anxious for us to make love, but I promised my mother I'd wait until I got married, and I'd hate to break a promise to my mother. So,” she asked breathlessly, “are you going to marry me?”

He laughed then. It came rumbling up from deep within him, a sound filled with joy and relief and love as he bounded off the bed, pulled her into his arms, and twirled her around the room.

“I will marry you, Victoria Lynn Cavendish, any night you wish.”