In the Dark (41 page)

 

“And you're certain they were born this way?” Damian asked, when Conrad had reached the end of his story. “No. It can't be. You must be mistaken.”

“So, what then?” Conrad drawled sarcastically. “You think they were turned in the hospital, perhaps? How? And by whom? The same beast who attacked their mother, perhaps? Even assuming that was possible, why would anyone do such a thing?”

Damian shook his head. “
No sé
, but…what are you going to do with them?”

Conrad shrugged. Turning his head he gazed at the twins, his expression one of pain, hopelessness, resignation. “There's only one thing I can do. I've given my word. I'm going to raise them.”

“You can't,” Damian replied automatically. “I mean, how can you? If anyone finds out…they-they'll kill them. They'll kill
you
.”

A scornful smile curved Conrad's lips. “They can try—others have. But who, exactly, do you mean by
they
?”

“Everyone,” Damian snapped. “Or, almost. The ignorant. The superstitious. The fanatics. The traditionalists. Everyone for whom the very idea of born vampires is, is, is…”

“Impossible?” Conrad suggested mockingly. “An abomination? The first sign of the Apocalypse?”

“A threat to the status quo. An unacceptable risk. Too potentially valuable—or potentially destructive—to be allowed to live. You, of all people, should know that.”

Conrad's eyes turned glacial. “And are you very certain it's
they
you meant to say, my dear? English never was your best language. Perhaps you meant
we
?”

For an instant, disappointment stole Damian's breath away. “You think so little of me?”

“No.” Conrad shook his head. “No, of course I don't. I don't know why I said that. You must know I would never have asked you to come here tonight if I believed that to be the case.”

“Why did you?”

Conrad hesitated. “I need help,” he said at last with a small shrug. “I'm committed to keeping them alive but…I don't see how I can do it alone.”

Surely, I misunderstood
? Damian stared at Conrad, too shocked to speak.
Surely, he is not expecting me to risk my life—my life—to help save his dead lover's bastard spawn?
“You loved her that much?” he asked, his heart contracting in pain, once again, when Conrad nodded.

“Yes, I did. I loved her very much. I'm sure I always will.”

That should have been enough, but
still
Damian was unable to keep from torturing himself; from poking at his wounded pride, his wounded dignity. His wounded heart.
Dios mio
,
what next will he ask of me?
“So who else have you appealed to?” he drawled, practically asking to be hurt once more. “Tell me, Conrad, how many others had to turn you down before you even recalled my existence?”

Conrad's eyes widened in surprise. “There were no others. You were the first person who came to mind. As of right now, you're the only person who knows anything at all about this other than me. I'm sure you'll understand that, if possible, I'd like to keep it that way.”

Damian nodded. “Of course.”
Well, that's something
, he thought, feeling slightly mollified—but only slightly. Because, most likely, all that really meant was that Conrad had figured him for the biggest sucker of the bunch, the idiot most likely to go along with so hopeless a plan.

For that reason alone, Damian wanted to refuse him.

But he couldn't. Not after a hundred and thirteen years spent regretting having walked away the first time. Not while Conrad was so clearly hurting, so obviously in trouble. And especially not when refusing would only mean that someone else, rather than Damian himself, would be the one to comfort him.
Lap dog
, he thought, silently berating himself once again for his weakness.
Perhaps if you roll over and beg nicely enough, he'll even consent to give you a pat on the head every now and again?

“I will be your friend,” Damian told him, scraping together all the dignity he could muster. “And I will be your partner in this…this madness. I will do whatever I can to keep your secret, to help you raise them, to safeguard their lives. But I won't be your lover again. That's over with.”

Conrad nodded acceptance. “I understand. I wouldn't have asked it of you. I'm through with such things myself. Love…in the end, I find, it brings nothing but sorrow.” And then, to Damian's consternation, he put his head in his hands and wept.

“No, no,
mi querido
, don't!” Crossing the room, Damian perched on the arm of Conrad's chair and pulled him close. But the smell of Conrad's skin and the weight of his head as it rested against his thigh had Damian struggling to keep his fangs sheathed.
Ay, dios mio
,
I must be insane to be doing this.

“If only I could have done something to save her,” Conrad murmured, his words instantly quelling Damian's lust. “If only— Ah, but you should have seen her, Damian. She was so young, so full of life…”

“
Si, amigo
,” Damian murmured as he stroked his fingers through Conrad's hair and resisted the urge to make off-color jokes about life and blood and babies and other things the dead girl might have been full of at one time or another. He doubted Conrad was in any mood to appreciate that sort of humor right now. “I'm sure she was.”

A shudder ran through Conrad and he groaned. “You're right, you know, it
is
madness. I don't know what I was thinking asking you here. I should never have involved you in this. And, now…oh, my dear, however are we going to manage?”

At that, Damian almost smiled. “Are you asking me for my opinion,
mi amor
?”
Perhaps a hundred years has changed him, after all
. His gaze cut to the twins, asleep in their crib, looking far too peaceful, innocent and trusting, especially considering how much heartache they'd already caused and how slim their chances were for survival. He felt an odd and completely unexpected feeling of fellowship, of kinship, possibly even affection, for them both. And he did smile then.
There's not a chance in hell we can pull this off, but at least we can go down fighting. At least we'll be together when the end comes. I'd always hoped that might be the case
.

Laughing softly, he leaned down, pressed his lips briefly to Conrad's temple and murmured, “But, what is it you're so worried about? Look at us, Conrad. Such a happy little family—are we not the perfect picture of domestic bliss? Why, I'm sure this is just the start of another grand adventure.”

About the Author

To learn more about P.G. Forte, please visit
www.pgforte.com
. Send an e-mail to
[email protected]
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.

Cursed by magic. Betrayed by lies. Bound together by love.

 

Forbidden: The Revolution

© 2009 Samantha Sommersby

 

Forbidden
,
Book 3

Twenty-five years ago Dell Renfield's father started a revolution, and Dell plans to finish it. Sorcerer, vampire, secret weapon, he's spent a lifetime training for his fate. The one distraction he isn't equipped for? Special Agent Alexandria Sanchez. A woman he desires above all others—and a woman he dare not get close to.

Alex's love life is already cursed. She doesn't need the added complication of a sexy new partner. Especially one who's touch is literally magic. Posing as his lover for the sake of their investigation is pure hell—and pure heaven. Now if she can just get him to quit casting spells long enough to prove she's capable. And keep her hands to herself in the process.

As they infiltrate a dangerous culture, temptation becomes too much to resist. And their torrid affair triggers an epic battle for power that could forever alter the future for them…and their kind.

Extensively re-edited and contains bonus material.

Warning: This book contains spectacular magical ass-kickings, copious amounts of blistering sex, one super-sexy, gun-toting heroine, and a very delicious, very powerful sorcerer…who sometimes sports fangs.

 

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Forbidden: The Revolution:

“I need to understand what's changed, Dell. Vampires can't normally get that close to me. Don't ask me why, I don't know exactly why. I only know—”

I sat up. “I think I know why.”

“You do?”

“Magic.”

Alex became very quiet. I watched as a myriad of emotions fluttered across her face.

“I know it sounds crazy but—”

Alex shook her head. “No, it doesn't sound crazy. It is magic. Strong magic I was told. A curse.”

“Who told you that?”

“Someone…”

“Someone?”

She looked away, embarrassed. “She works in this shop, in downtown Los Angeles. They do readings there. I was—”

I reached up and cupped her cheek in my hand. “I know a bit about magic, Alex. More than a bit, actually. This isn't a curse. It's a protection spell, a very powerful protection spell.”

“Did you use magic to get close to me?”

It was a fair question.

“No.”

She leaned in toward me, slowly.

“What then?” she asked, her lips grazing mine.

Did she intend to kiss me? My entire body hummed with the anticipation of her lips pressing firmly against mine, her tongue sweeping into my mouth. Kisses like that were dangerous. They brought with them the possibility of accidental blood spill and that was something I couldn't risk, something we couldn't risk.

In one swift move I grabbed her shoulders, turned her body and laid her down on the bed, pinning her to the mattress. I had her wrists pulled up over her head, secure in my hands and her body stretched out enticingly under mine.

“You're involved with someone, remember?” I reminded her.

She looked away. “Yes. Sullivan Cross.”

“You're seeing Deputy Director Cross?” Sullivan was the head of the profiling division, he was infamous.

“I guess,” she sighed.

“You
guess
?”

Alex looked at me and admitted, “As soon as we return from assignment I'm planning to break it off with him. It was inevitable. And now…”

“Now?”

She looked away.

“Seems like Sullivan would be a pretty good catch. Successful, athletic, good-looking.”

She scowled at me. “You date him then.”

I laughed. “Sorry, sweetheart, men don't do it for me.” I started to move so she could get up.

“Me either.”

That stopped me.

“You're gay?” I gasped. “Because you could have fooled me the way you were responding.”

“I'm not gay.”

“I don't understand.”

She wouldn't look at me. Her face was burning crimson. In fact her entire body was on fire. The smell of her arousal was strong and it was getting stronger by the second. Sometimes I'm a little slow on the uptake.

“You crave the touch of an immortal. You like vampires.”

She didn't answer. My mind was spinning as a flood of questions came to me. I started with the one I thought would be the least threatening.

“Alex, when you said vampires can't normally get that close to you, what did you mean exactly? It could be important. Maybe even important to the mission.”

She looked up at me for several long moments. I could tell she wanted me. She wanted me badly and my body's reaction to that need was not only obvious to me, it was obvious to her and pressing hard into the softness of her lower belly.

“If you're going to make me talk about sex, can you let go of my wrists and sit up?”

It was my turn to blush. I let go of her wrists and did as she asked.

Alex eased up onto her elbows. “It varies. Sometimes it happens at first base, sometimes second. With one I got all the way to sloppy thirds before he couldn't hold back, tried to take a little nibble, and…bam!”

“Bam?”

“It's like a charge of lightning or something. I tell them up front no biting or pain of any kind, but do they listen? No. It always ends in disaster,” she moaned, flopping down on the bed and throwing one arm over her face.

“There are vampires who don't feed, Alex. Lots of us,” I offered helpfully.

“I seem to convert them after a few dates without even trying. They start out nice enough, then they go all Count Dracula on me.”

“Hmm.” That was me. I didn't know what the fuck to say. My mother is a psychiatrist and she says
hmm
a lot. It seems to work for her.

“Is that all you can say?” she asked, leaning up on her elbows again, her temper revving her up to a slow boil. Apparently the hmm thing only works for shrinks.

“What I can have I don't want,” she moaned. “What I want I can't have. So here I am, this huge mess of unsatisfied, frustrated… And all you can say is
hmm
? Never mind.”

It hit me like a ton of bricks.

“Are you saying you've never had sex?”

“Define sex.”

“Intercourse.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, you've had sex or yes, you've never had sex?”

“I've never had sex.”

“You've never had sex? Are you sure?”

Alex screamed and pushed me off of her. Actually, it was more like a growl. I reached out to grab hold of her and we both ended up rolling off the bed and onto the floor, wedged between the side of the mattress and the wall. She was on top, draped across my body in a way I was certain I was going to have fantasies about later.

“You know,” I began casually, “if you were getting some you probably wouldn't have such a bad temper.”