Night's Master (5 page)

Later that evening, while taking care of some overdue paperwork, my skin tingled with awareness. I looked up, expecting to see Raphael on the other side of the counter, but there was no one there. Frowning, I glanced around the store, certain that he was there, but if he was, he was invisible. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was nearby, that he was watching me. And then, abruptly, the sensation was gone.

Feeling a little creeped out, I closed the store half an hour early and went home, bolting the front door behind me.

Saturday came and went, and there was still no sign of Raphael. Well, I could take a hint as well as the next girl. I told myself it didn’t matter. He was a Vampire, after all, and no matter how attractive he might be, we had no future together. Besides, I couldn’t imagine taking Rafe home to meet my folks.
Hi, Mom, Dad, this is Raphael. Oh, by the way, he’s a Vampire.
I told myself I was better off without him, but deep down, I didn’t believe it. Nor could I believe how much I missed a man I hardly knew.

At least I had Sunday’s picnic with Cagin to look forward to.

Raphael prowled the dark streets of Oak Hollow, his hunger and his frustration growing with every passing minute as he quietly cursed a longing he could not satisfy or ignore. Going out with Kathy McKenna had been as big a mistake as he had known it would be, but he had been helpless to resist. He didn’t know what it was about her that drew him. Certainly he had dated other women who were as pretty and as charming, yet none had fired his imagination or his hunger the way she had. Like some exotic siren of myth and legend, she had captured his soul with her smile, his heart with her laughter, and now he couldn’t think of anything else. She was in his thoughts by night and his dreams by day. The urge to carry her off to his lair and bed her, to kiss every inch of her sweet flesh, to savor the sweetness of her life’s essence, burned through him like a fever with no cure.

Kathy.

Since seeing her on Thursday night, it had taken all the willpower he possessed to stay away from her. In all his existence, he had thought himself in love only twice. He had killed the first woman; the second one had been the girl he had told Kathy about. He didn’t intend to make the same mistake a third time.

But it hadn’t kept him from dissolving into mist and entering the bookstore Friday night. Her scent had surrounded him, tantalizing him even in his intangible form as he hovered in the air near her desk. Drifting there, weightless, shapeless, he had recalled the softness of her skin, the warmth of her smile. He had tortured himself with her nearness until he couldn’t stand it any longer, and then he had fled the building.

Resuming his own form, he had preyed upon the first man he had seen. Filled with impotent rage, he had taken the man’s blood quickly, his hands cruel as he held his prey in place. He had been sorely tempted to drink the man dry. He was a Vampire, after all. Why not loose the beast that lurked within and revel in the power that was his? To what purpose did he cling to his humanity? For the approval of a woman who would never be his? He had released his pent-up frustration in a wild cry that had sent an alley cat scurrying for cover. Overcome with guilt and shame, he had released the helpless mortal, wiped the memory of what had happened from the man’s mind, and sent him on his way. Hands tightly clenched, Rafe had watched the man stagger down the street until he was swallowed up in the shadows of the night.

Now, as he stalked the dark streets, Rafe couldn’t help wondering what Kathy would think if she could see him at this moment. He didn’t need a mirror to know how he looked now, with his fangs extended and his eyes red and glowing with the lust for blood. He had seen his own image mirrored in his brother’s face often enough.

Muttering an oath, he vowed it was a side of him that Kathy would never see. To his regret, the only way to guarantee that she never saw him at his worst was to stay away from her.

The thought of never seeing her again was far more painful than he had expected.

Rafe grunted softly. He was eighty-five years old; he had been a Vampire for seventy-two of those years. He should be used to pain in all its forms by now.

There was only one church in Oak Hollow, and it was open to everyone who didn’t want to drive the hundred or so miles to River’s Edge, which was the next closest town and catered to all the major religions and a few I’d never heard of.

Reverend Paul was standing at the door on Sunday morning, welcoming his parishioners with a smile and a handshake, when I arrived. He was a nice-looking, middle-aged man with short-cropped brown hair and guileless brown eyes.

His smile was warm and sincere as he clasped my hand. “Good morning, Kathy. It’s good to see you here.”

“Thank you, it’s good to be here.”

I found a seat in a pew near the back, my gaze drawn, as always, to the beautiful stained glass window above the altar. In brilliant shades of blue and red, orange and gold, it depicted the Savior of the world sitting on a rock, a tranquil expression on His face as He stroked the head of a tiny black lamb. The rays of a bright sun gilded His hair and white robe.

I had mixed emotions when it came to religion. I didn’t put any stock in the big bang theory. I’d heard it said once that believing in the big bang was akin to believing that you could throw all the parts of a car into the air and it would come down fully assembled. I didn’t believe that mankind’s ancestors had crawled out of some primordial soup, either. Evolution just didn’t ring true. Neither hypothesis made sense to me. I believed in the creation story, though I had no idea where dinosaurs, Vampires, and Werewolves fit into the grand scheme of things. All I knew was that my heart and soul filled with a sweet sense of peace and hope when I looked at the Savior of the world as depicted in that stained glass window.

Reverend Paul took his place at the pulpit. The congregation sang an opening hymn, the reverend offered a prayer, the congregation sang another hymn, and then the reverend turned to his sermon. I guess the reason I liked him so much was because he didn’t preach hellfire and endless damnation, but love, accountability, and forgiveness.

Susie sat across the aisle, her three sons sandwiched between her and her husband. It was the first time I had seen her boys sitting still, and the first time I had seen her husband. He had short blond hair and didn’t look anything like I’d imagined.

Catching my gaze, Susie smiled at me. I smiled back, then returned my attention to what the reverend was saying. I tried to concentrate on the sermon, but my thoughts kept ping-ponging between Raphael’s absence and my upcoming date with Cagin.

After church, Susie introduced me to her husband, Rick. The three of us made polite chitchat for a few minutes before I excused myself. I thanked the reverend for a fine sermon, then hurried home to change out of my church dress and into a pair of jeans and a sweater. I sliced the devil’s food cake I had made for dessert and put it into a carrier, along with some paper plates, napkins, and plastic forks.

Cagin arrived right on time. He looked strong and fit in a pair of faded cutoffs and a white T-shirt that had a snarling tiger painted on the back. “Ready?”

“Ready.” I grabbed a jacket from the closet, picked up the small basket that held the cake, and followed him out the door.

It was a beautiful day for a drive. The sky was a clear sapphire blue, the weather warm but not hot. The place Cagin had chosen for our picnic was beside a small blue lake. It was a lovely place, flanked by a carpet of thick green grass and tall willow trees. It looked remarkably like the mural I had painted. Ducks and geese floated on the surface of the water. I thought I saw a deer resting in the shade across the way. A hawk soared effortlessly overhead, its wings outstretched.

Cagin spread a blanket in the shade of a tree. Opening a huge picnic basket, he doled out china plates, crystal glasses, silverware, and linen napkins, along with a variety of sandwiches and containers of potato salad, baked beans, coleslaw, dill pickles, and olives.

“This is some picnic!” I exclaimed as he handed me a glass of chilled champagne.

“Nothing but the best.”

We passed a pleasant hour over lunch, making small talk and getting to know each other. Cagin owned a number of small businesses in New Jersey, was an only child, had never been married, loved cold beer and fast cars, and collected motorcycles.

“A speed freak,” I murmured, smiling. I couldn’t help wondering what he was doing in Oak Hollow.

When I asked, he replied, “I’m on vacation, more or less.”

“So you’re just passing through?”

His gaze raked over me in a way that made me uncomfortable. “I could be talked into staying a while longer.”

Since I didn’t know what to say to that, I offered him a slice of cake instead.

He took it with a knowing grin, devoured it in three big bites, and stood up.

“That lake looks mighty inviting. What do you say we take a swim?”

“I didn’t bring a bathing suit.”

He looked at me, a challenge in his eyes. “You don’t need one.”

“Sorry, but skinny-dipping is out of the question until I know you better. A lot better.”

“Whatever floats your boat,” he said, and before I knew what he had in mind, he had stripped to the buff and plunged into the water. He swam to the far side of the lake with long, even strokes, then turned and swam back. When he approached the shore, I turned my back to the water. Call me a prude if you will, but he was a little too cavalier about his nudity for me.

Cagin’s amused laughter brought the heat rushing to my cheeks.

After he pulled on his shorts and his sandals, we took a walk around the lake, and then, pleading a headache, I asked him to take me home.

I thought he would argue with me; instead, he tossed the dishes and leftovers into the basket, draped the blanket and his shirt over his shoulder, and headed for the car.

I stared after him. If we hadn’t been so far from town, I would have walked home. Tempting as that was, common sense won out.

Needless to say, we didn’t talk much on the way back to my place. I wouldn’t have been surprised if, instead of stopping the car, he had just slowed down and expected me to jump out, but he parked the car and walked me to the door.

Delving inside my handbag for my keys, I muttered, “Thanks for the picnic.”

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he pulled me into his arms and kissed me, and then, whistling softly, he sauntered back to his car and drove away.

I stared after him, confused by both his abrupt change in attitude and his kiss. It hadn’t been a bad kiss, as kisses go, but it hadn’t set me on fire, either.

Ah, well, it really didn’t matter, since I’d probably never see him again.

The rest of the afternoon stretched before me. Feeling at somewhat of a loss, I grabbed a rag and went from room to room, dusting the furniture. The house wasn’t very big—two bedrooms, a bathroom, a living room with a fireplace and hardwood floors, a sunny kitchen, and a small dining room—but it was located on a large lot at the end of a long, narrow street. A white picket fence surrounded the backyard; directly behind the fence was an open field. To the right, a stand of tall timber covered several acres. The only other house on the road was a good distance away.

I had fallen in love with the place at first sight. In my spare time, I had repainted the living room, the bathroom, and one of the bedrooms.

About eleven o’clock that night, I took a long, hot shower, then slipped into a silky tank top and my favorite pajama bottoms, the ones decorated with tiny blue and purple hearts. After fixing a cup of hot chocolate, I lit a fire in the hearth, then settled down in front of the TV to watch a late movie.

I was drifting on the brink of sleep when someone rang the bell. Smothering a yawn, I went to the door. “Who is it?”

“Rafe.”

The sound of his voice made my heart skip a beat. “What do you want?”

“To see you, of course. Why else would I be here?”

I glanced at the clock. It was after midnight. It was late for working people like me, but I supposed it was the shank of the evening for a Vampire.

I opened the door a crack. “I never gave you my address. How did you find me?” Since I was new in town and had a private phone number, I knew he hadn’t found my name on the Web.

His gaze burned into mine. “Honey, I could find you ten feet down in the dark.”

The look in his eyes, the heat in his voice, did funny things in the pit of my stomach.

“Are you going to invite me in,” he asked, “or make me stand out here on the porch like some horny teenager?”

Stifling a laugh, I took a step backward. “Come on in.”

I felt a peculiar shimmery sensation in the air around me as he crossed the threshold, only then remembering that a Vampire couldn’t enter a home without an invitation from the owner.

Raphael followed me into the living room. “Nice place,” he said, glancing around.

I followed his gaze. The room wasn’t anything fancy, but it was warm and cozy, from the braided rug in front of the hearth to the oil painting of a herd of wild horses running in the moonlight that hung over the mantel. A pair of red oak end tables flanked a high-backed sofa; a matching chair sat at an angle.

I gestured at the couch. “Please, sit down.”

I don’t know if he expected me to sit beside him or not, but I took the chair. Sitting next to him while I was wearing a skimpy tank top and pajama bottoms seemed like a really bad idea. Picking up the remote, I switched off the TV.

I was trying to think of something to say when Raphael sniffed the air, and then frowned. “Where have you been?”

The tone of his voice lifted the short hairs along my nape. “I haven’t been anywhere, why?”

“Who were you with today?”

“I really don’t think that’s any of your business, is it?”

“Answer me, dammit! Who were you with?”

“You’re not my father. I don’t have to answer to you.”

He uncoiled from the sofa and stood towering over me, his expression lethal. “Who were you with?”

I looked up at him, my mouth suddenly dry. “Just a guy who came into the bookstore.”

“What’s his name?”

“Cagin.”

Raphael’s whole body grew taut. “What were you doing with him?”

“I wasn’t
doing
anything. If you must know, he took me on a picnic.”

If possible, Raphael’s black eyes grew even darker, narrowing to ominous slits. “You’re dating a Were?”

“He’s not a Werewolf. I asked him if he was, and he said no.”

A mild oath escaped Raphael’s lips. He raked a hand through his hair, then resumed his place on the sofa. “Werewolves aren’t the only Were-creatures. You know that, don’t you?”

I shook my head.

“There are a number of Were-creatures,” he explained. “There are Were-leopards, Were-coyotes, Were-bears, Were-lions, and Were-tigers, to name only a few. Cagin is a Were-tiger.”

I envisioned Cagin with a mouth full of sharp teeth. The better to eat you with, my dear. “I didn’t know. I mean, I had no idea.” But it explained the funny feeling I’d had when I met him, and it made me wonder anew how I was able to discern Vampires and Were-creatures from other people. I’d never been psychic or anything before. Or maybe I’d just never had the chance to use my gift, if that’s what it was, until now.

“There’s a big difference between Werewolves and other Were-creatures,” Rafe went on. “The Were-tigers and such don’t have to change when the moon is full.”

“So they’re really just shape-shifters?”

“Right. They’re born that way, not made. Most of them are harmless, but you never know when one will turn on you. And once a Were-creature gets a taste for human flesh, they’re just as dangerous and vicious as the Werewolves.”

“So, where do the other Were-creatures stand in the war? Whose side are they on?”

“The Were-tigers are the only other Supernatural creatures involved. The rest have remained neutral so far.”

“Why are the Were-tigers involved?”

“They like to fight.”

I blew out a sigh, thinking I had been much happier before I knew Vampires and Were-creatures existed. It made me wonder what other monsters were lurking out there in the dark.

“Stay away from Cagin,” Raphael said flatly. “You’re not safe with him.”

“But I’m safe with you?” I tapped my fingertips on the arm of the chair. “Seems to me that it’s just a case of choosing who I want to bite me, a Vampire or a Were-tiger.”

“You can’t trust the Werewolves,” he said curtly. “You can’t trust Cagin.”

“How do I know I can trust you?”

“Good point.” He gazed into the fireplace for several moments, then said, “I told myself I wouldn’t see you again, that no good could come from it.”

“Then why are you here?”

He turned to look at me, his dark eyes intent upon my face. No other man had ever looked at me quite that way, as if every fiber of his being was focused solely on me. My breath seemed trapped in my throat as I waited for his answer.

“Because,” he said quietly, “I couldn’t stay away.”

His voice was so warm and filled with such desire, I was surprised I didn’t melt on the spot.

“Raphael…”

“I know how you feel. You’re afraid to trust me, and I don’t blame you. Hell, I don’t trust myself sometimes, but…” He blew out a breath that seemed to come from the very depths of his soul. “If you won’t be my lover, would you at least be my friend?”

I didn’t know what to say. Raphael Cordova was eighty-five years old. He’d been a dyed-in-the-wool Vampire for seventy-two of those years. Yet, at that moment, he sounded far younger than his years. Looking into his eyes, I saw the boy he must have been before his life was turned upside down. He probably hadn’t had many friends, what with being tutored at home and all. And later, after he had been turned, it probably hadn’t been any easier to find guys to hang out with. After all, not many thirteen-year-old kids were out on the town in the wee hours of the morning.

“What was it like, sleeping during the day and being awake all night? What did you do for fun? Did you get to go out late at night?”

“Not as much as we wanted to.” A slow grin spread over his face. “Rane and I snuck out of the house a lot. Worried my Mom no end, the way we were always sneaking out. My dad was more lenient. He understood our need to explore the night, to learn what it meant to be what we had become, especially as we grew older.” He grunted softly, and I knew from his expression that he was remembering his past. “Rane and I got into some hellacious situations. There were a couple of times when we’d have been in a world of hurt if our old man hadn’t come to our rescue.”