Nightfall (16 page)

He’d reached the end of his patience by the time he heard
the sound of people leaving, Carol and Manuel calling good night. Finally—
finally!
—he
heard the tap of Selene’s heels on the concrete floor as she headed for the
office. He forced himself to wait, sitting at his desk, as she opened the door
and stepped in, carrying the drawer from the cash register.

“I see you’re still here.”

How could someone who looked so fragile exude such strength
and control?
But isn’t that part of what draws me to her?

“In case you forgot,” he drawled, “I own the place.”

“In that case,” she retorted, “you’ll want this tallied and
locked up for the bank. That means moving out of that chair.”

He dropped his booted feet from the desk where they’d been
resting and leaned forward. Taking the cash drawer from her, he set it on the
desk and rose to come around it. Before she could move away, he’d curled his
fingers around her wrists. When she tried to tug free, he tightened his hold.

“Enough,” he said. “I know why you’re pissed off at me and I
should at least get a chance to apologize.”

Her eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“I’m sorry I fell asleep, okay? It was more than rude of
me.” Sitting his ass on the edge of the desk, he reeled her in closer until she
was standing between his thighs. “My only explanation is I was worn out from a
hard day of work and you took what little energy I had left. It won’t happen
again. You have my word.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Last night. I owe you an apology.” He frowned. “Isn’t that
why you’re so pissed off at me?”

She took so long to answer him, the regret he’d battled all
day surged over the irritation. Had he lost her already? He was seized with an
uncommon need to pull her tightly to his body and demand she forgive him. To
tell her she belonged to him. That she was his and no one else’s. But for once
in his life, common sense took over. He had an innate sense that was exactly
the wrong tack to take. As hard as it was, he had to force himself to wait for
her to say something. Anything.

Her mouth had tightened, and she suddenly looked drawn,
tired. “This isn’t your fault. I told you to go to sleep and you did.”

He stared at her, puzzled. “Then what’s this all about? I
ask you out on a date, you show up in my bedroom and fuck my brains out. Now
you won’t talk to me.”

She shifted her attention to where his fingers gripped her
wrists. At once he released her, although he was afraid she’d turn and run out
the door.

Selene backed away from him, that inner battle reflected in
the turmoil in her eyes. She inhaled and let her breath out, the movement
tightening the fabric of her dress across her breasts. Normally it would have
been distracting, but there was something far bigger in the room, making it
hard to breathe for the wrong reasons.

“I can’t do this, Quinn. I know this is hard to understand,
and I shouldn’t be taking it out on you. In my world…” She gave a half laugh, tinged
with bitterness. “In your world, I’d be eligible for retirement. Yet in my
world…I always thought it was bullshit, what they said about age, made
vampires, all that.”

His brow creased, but he held his tongue. If he started
asking stupid questions, she might stop talking, and fortunately, whatever
she’d been holding inside looked like it was ready to boil forth.

She paced to the back of the office, turned and leaned
against the wall. She settled her hands in a fold behind her, which raised her
breasts, accentuated every lovely line of her body. What made it even more
provocative was how unconscious it was.

“I’m sixty-two years old, Quinn. Given the average lifespan
for a made vampire is four hundred to six hundred years old, I’m barely out of
my teens. When I was made, it was explained to me that made vampires have
impulse problems, especially in the first hundred years. It’s why we’re kept so
close to our sire or mentor during the first fifty or sixty years, and then
it’s up to that sire to decide when to loosen the reins, give a young vampire
more independence, the ability to move more freely around your assigned
territory. Have your own career, job, relationships, what have you. If you
don’t have a sire, you’re assigned a mentor who takes on that role. A mentor
isn’t held as strictly responsible if you screw up as your sire would be, but
it’s still a heavy responsibility.”

“You had a mentor instead of a sire?” he ventured. She
nodded.

“There’s a prejudice toward made vampires in our world. The
born vampires are our aristocracy. If you’re merely
born
a vampire,
you’re given the title ‘lord’ or ‘lady’ at birth.” Her lip curled derisively.
“You have to become an overlord to earn that as a made vampire, and very few of
us do that. So I didn’t give the issue of ‘impulse control’ much credit. Just
figured it was more of the snooty born vampire bullshit, trying to make us feel
inferior. I should have listened better.”

Her gaze locked with his. “Last night I almost second marked
you when you were awake, and then, when you went to sleep, I came so damn
close. Too close. It would have been inappropriate of me to mark you without
giving you a choice. A fully informed choice.”

Quinn didn’t know whether to rejoice that the problem here
was not with him or to turn her over his knee and paddle her ass for putting
him through this. He straightened.

“Selene, I told you last night, I want whatever it takes to
bind us together. Anything. I’ve
made
my choice.”

She shook her head, flattened herself against the wall as if
she’d step back farther if she could. “Stop it. You don’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me, because whatever it is, it’s eating
away at you.”

Again a silence stretched between them. This time when she
raised her lashes he saw her eyes had gone cold, empty. Eerie and still.

“In my world, your consent is the
only
thing
required,” she said, low. “After that,
every
choice belongs to me. Do
you understand that, Quinn? There’s no law against me killing you if you
displease me, whether it’s quick, or I torture you for days. It’s ironic that
they give you the choice to become a slave, but that’s the only choice you
have. Then there’s my own status. I am nothing in my world, the lowest on the
feeding chain. If another vampire wants to use my servant for himself or herself,
I have no choice but to allow it, a twisted form of hospitality rule.”

She gave a short, bitter laugh. “Every vampire is required
to attend his or her overlord’s gathering once yearly, where that can and will
happen, with a multitude of other servants.”

He digested that. Did he believe all this? It was getting
hard to discount it, especially with the complexity of it, the depth of her
obvious belief. He supposed that was her point, to shove him toward the “bitch
is crazy and back away” side of things. He cleared his throat. “I’m guessing
made vampires think about this stuff more than born vampires. You’re still
human enough to have a conscience about it. Obviously.”

Pain crossed her gaze. “Yes. Though that feeling goes away
with the years. I was told that as well, didn’t believe it either, and now I’ve
already done more than I should with you, than conscience should allow.”

“But other than that, what’s the problem?”

She stared at him. “I get that you don’t believe any of
this, Quinn. But don’t make light of this or mock me.”

“I’m not.” He injected enough steel into his tone to win an
answering spark in her eyes. “I honestly don’t know what to believe, Selene.
Yeah, a part of me keeps wanting to say you’re just some insane, hot woman with
the delusion she’s a vampire. But maybe I’m just as crazy, because there are
things about you that tell me that might not be the case. I might not be to the
point I can say out loud I believe it, but I’m not entirely on the
not-believing side of the fence. But that’s not the point. You are. There’s
more to this for you. I feel it. What is it?”

She sighed. For the first time since he’d met her, she
assumed a defensive posture, crossing her arms over her chest and taking a step
closer to the door. It was the pose of a woman who felt entirely too
vulnerable, and his gaze narrowed. Any man with radar for it knew the signs of
a woman who’d learned what being helpless truly meant. It was such an
unexpected look on his Mistress, he took a step toward her before he could stop
himself. Goddamn it, who the hell…

She held up a hand, drew a breath and spoke, her voice
monotone. “I was turned into a vampire against my will. I worked in a bar up in
New Jersey, and he was the cooler. I didn’t know what he was, never did until
that night. He was mesmerizing, amazing and yet…almost unreal. I thought…we
didn’t have a deep relationship, just a few steps above friends with benefits,
but I thought at least he was my friend. Another thing a human learns quickly
about a vampire.” Her gaze met his, brushed and became distant again. “Vampires
are never friends to humans. Not even to each other, not really.

“Yet there is a code. It’s against Council law to turn a
human into a vampire without their approval or the human’s consent. He sought
neither and was executed by the Council as a result. In our bedroom. It was in
my first days, where I was nearly mad with bloodlust. He too was young by
vampire standards, and he had no idea what he was doing. He just wanted another
vampire to be his constant companion, his friend in a cold world. He had a
female friend who worked in the bar with him, who tried to dissuade him. I
thought she was a jealous former lover. After, I realized she was his human
servant and was trying to save him.”

He saw the shadows in her eyes, the memories of a night that
haunted her. “The first days…the bloodlust is indescribable, but it’s
manageable. That’s what I was told later, because it’s only manageable if your
sire knows what he’s doing. He didn’t.”

Her voice went back to that dead tone as she obviously
sought to just get it out, make him understand. “A week into it, someone was
sent to deal with it. If the executioner hadn’t gotten there in time, I likely
would have killed humans indiscriminately, revealed vampire kind, done
unimaginable harm. It’s hard for me to accept how he was killed, so decisively,
without remorse. However, when I was restored to some level of sanity and
self-control, I understood why they punish the act so severely. The assassin…”

She shook her head. “He makes the determination whether the
made vampire is a stable turning, stable enough to live. He was the first
vampire who showed me true kindness and compassion, and I don’t even know his
name. Ironic, given that if I was one of those made vampires that turn badly—another
reason the act requires approval—he would have ended me as quickly. Yet John
didn’t suffer. It was punishment, but not done without mercy.”

When she remained silent for a prolonged period, Quinn
spoke, a quiet prod. “But they didn’t punish you?”

“No. Not essentially. A forced vampire is considered the
victim.” The word came out like a curse. “A stigma that takes a long time to
overcome. When you’re a forced vampire, you’re like a poor relation. No one
really wants you in their territory, and those who do want you, you don’t want
to attract their attention.”

He’d thought her in control of everything, and apparently
she’d been powerless for a long time. Yet she’d overcome it.

“The approved made vampires look down upon you,” she
continued. “You’re the bottom of the feeding chain, but I had a talent for
making money at running a bar, and that appealed to the territory overlord who
agreed to be my mentor. Laurent.”

The way she said his name, part curse, part dread, had his
attention sharpening on her again, his protective instincts bristling. “He’s
more than four hundred years old. Very powerful. With vampires, strength comes
with age. The relationship didn’t start out so badly,” she added, with forced
casualness, “but over time I tired of him reaping the benefits of my talents
and still being treated as less than nothing. So I left.”

She closed her eyes, shook her head, as if in
self-admonishment. Opened them again, looked him straight on. “I ran away. Left
his territory without permission, and got as far outside the range of his
marking as I could, because overlords impose a bloodlink on all in their
territory. But if he moves in the right direction, gets close enough, he can
find me. I have staked my life, no pun intended, on him continuing to consider
me nothing, not worth the effort. As well as on his notable distaste for any
state below the Mason-Dixon Line. In his mind, New York City is the center of
the world.”

“Nice to know vampire New Yorkers are no different from
human ones,” Quinn said dryly. “They don’t realize Texas is the center of the
universe.”

She gave him a look tinged with despair, as if he was too
dense to comprehend what she was saying. He dared to reach out, clasp her hand.
She was rigid, her fingers cold, but he gave the grip a little shake to loosen
her up. “Hey. Look at me.”

Her lashes lifted, and he saw it then. Hunger, at the mere
contact between them. Not just for blood or sex, but deeper things, things he
understood from wanting his place in the world for so long and having to fight
to get it. Her hand quivered in his and with an oath she pulled away. Before he
could blink, she was in the corner as far away from him as she could get in the
small office space. As if realizing that wasn’t enough, suddenly she just
wasn’t there.

He would have thought she’d just dematerialized like someone
in a Harry Potter film, but he felt the light breeze, the scent of her against
his body and realized she’d actually moved that damn fast.

“Selene.” He strode up the hall, alarmed, wondering if she’d
left the building entirely, then came up short.