Night's Pleasure (12 page)

Rane experienced a sharp twinge of guilt as he compelled Savanah to do his bidding, but he quickly swept it aside. If she hadn't been so stubborn, he wouldn't have had to resort to using his preternatural powers. But it was the only way he could think of to get her out of the house, to prove that he meant her no harm. She could hate him if she wished. He could live with that. What he couldn't live with was the thought of her being prey for one of his kind, or worse, being turned by anyone but himself.

Taking her into his arms, he willed the two of them to his rented bungalow. Inside, he turned on the lights; he was at home in the dark, but he didn't want to frighten her if he could help it. A flicker of Supernatural power secured the door and the windows, assuring him that she couldn't leave until he was ready for her to do so. When that was done, he took both of the books from her hands and quickly thumbed through first one and then the other. No wonder her father had been murdered. Rane could think of any number of Vampires who would kill to keep those books out of human hands.

Muttering an oath, he slid the books under the sofa, and then he freed Savanah's mind from his compulsion and waited for the explosion.

It wasn't long in coming.

Savanah turned on him with a vengeance. “What did you do to me?” she demanded, her hands fisted on her hips. “Why did you bring me here?” She glanced around. “Where are my books?”

For all her bravado, he heard the underlying edge of fear in her voice. Not that he could blame her. Here, in his lair, she was alone and defenseless. He waited a moment before answering, letting that fact sink in.

“Damn you!” she exclaimed. “Answer me!”

“I brought you here to prove that you have nothing to fear from me.”

“Fine, I'm going home.” She held out her hand. “I want my mother's books.”

“All in good time.”

Shoulders back, Savanah marched to the front door and turned the handle. When nothing happened, she grabbed hold of the knob and gave it a hard yank, and then she twisted it back and forth.

When the door refused to open, she glared at him over her shoulder. “Let me out of here!”

“Not until you calm down.”

“I am calm!”

“Yeah,” he muttered dryly. “I can see that.”

Arms crossed over her breasts, she turned to face him, her expression mutinous, her eyes blazing with fury. “All right, convince me and let me go. My father's funeral is in the morning.”

Rane swore softly. “Savanah, listen to me. I'm a Vampire. I admit it, but I had nothing to do with the deaths of your parents, but I know who killed your father….”

“What? Why didn't you tell me this before?” She began to pace the floor. “Where is he? How do I find him? We need to call the police….”

“Slow down, darlin'. I guess I said that wrong. I don't know who it is, but I caught her scent. I'll know it if I find it again….”

“Her scent? You mean a woman killed my dad?”

“I think so.”

“But why?” Savanah frowned. The possibility that the killer was a woman put a whole new spin on things. Had her father been having an affair she didn't know about? Had the two of them had a quarrel that turned violent? She dismissed the thought out of hand. She was grabbing at straws, hoping to explain away what she knew was the truth. In her heart, she knew a Vampire had killed her father, just as Rane had said. “Why?” It was a question she couldn't seem to stop asking.

“I don't know,” Rane said, “but I've got a pretty good idea.”

She stared up at him, her eyes welling with tears. “I don't understand any of this,” she said, sniffling. “Why would anyone want to kill him? He was old and crippled and…”

“Shh.” Rane moved toward her, wondering if she would accept comfort from him.

She didn't move when he wrapped his arms around her. Ramrod stiff, she stood in his embrace while tears ran down her cheeks and then, with a sob, she collapsed against him, warm and soft and vulnerable.

He held her a moment, then lifted her into his arms and carried her to the sofa. Taking a seat, he cradled her to his chest.

“I should be trying to kill you,” she said, sniffling.

“I give you leave to try later.”

She laughed through her tears. He took that for a good sign.

“I'm not going to hurt you, Savanah, I swear it.”

“I don't think I care.”

He chuckled softly. “Hey, talk like that's going to give Vampire hunters a bad name.”

“I don't care,” she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “I just want my dad back.”

“I know.” He stroked her hair, gentling her to his touch. She was vulnerable now, ripe for the taking, but as he held her, he came to the grim realization that he had been caught in his own trap, and that in the midst of seducing her, he had lost his own heart instead. Anyone who tried to harm Savanah would have to go through him first.

Rane swore softly. Since the night of his first kill, he had punished himself for what he was, for the lives he had taken. He had adhered to the mores of traditional Vampires. For years, he had spent the daylight hours resting inside a coffin, refusing to stir until sundown, even though there was no need. Like his brother, he could function during the day, undoubtedly a benefit of having a mortal woman for a mother, and a father who had been turned by the world's oldest Vampire. But even though he could be awake and active, he didn't have the power to walk in the sun's light. Years ago, Mara had offered to share her blood with him. Had he taken it, power straight from the source, so to speak, he would now be able to withstand the sun's light, at least for short periods of time, but he had refused her.

Mara hadn't tried to change his mind. He was sorry now that she hadn't persuaded him, and even sorrier that she was currently somewhere in Egypt, no doubt resting in the earth of her homeland, leaving him no way to get in touch with her. Damn.

With a last sniff, Savanah sat up, putting some space between herself and Rane. Her gaze rested on the shriveled skin on the side of his face and neck. She had done that to him in a moment of anger and frustration.

“Does it still hurt?” she asked, surprised that his cheek wasn't still raw and red.

“Oh, yeah.”

“I'm sorry, really I am. Will it leave a scar?” It would be a shame to mar that handsome profile.

“No.” He lifted a hand to his cheek. “I'm a fast healer. By tomorrow night, the worst of the pain will have subsided. In a few days, the burns will be gone.”

Remarkable, she thought. If her skin had been burned like that, it would have taken weeks to heal. “How long have you been a Vampire?”

“Almost ninety years.”

He didn't look that old, of course, but then Vampires didn't age once they were turned.

“How is it possible for both of your parents to be Vampires?” The brown book had stated quite clearly that Vampires couldn't reproduce, but Rane's existence seemed to contradict that. She placed one hand over her stomach. She had been certain she couldn't be pregnant, but what if she was wrong?

“How do you know about my parents?” he asked.

“It's in one of the books.”

Ah, yes, the books,
Rane thought. Aloud, he said, “My father turned my mother after I was grown.”

“Is Raphael Cordova your brother?”

Rane nodded, more certain than ever that the Vampire who had killed William Gentry had been looking for those accursed volumes.

“Did your father turn you, too?”

“No, being a Vampire was in my blood, and Rafe's, from the day we were born.”

“How can that be?”

“My father had only been a Vampire a short time when he married my mother. It was his opinion that he had somehow retained enough of his humanity to father a child. Two, actually. Rafe and I are twins.”

“Oh.” Since Rane had been a Vampire for ninety years, it was doubtful he could have gotten her pregnant. “Why would a Vampire kill my father?”

“I should think that would be obvious,” Rane said dryly. “Your father was a hunter.” Even as he said the words, he wondered if that was the reason, or if Gentry had been killed because he refused to disclose the whereabouts of the books now resting under the sofa.

“But the war ended eighteen years ago. Why would anyone want to kill him now?”

“Eighteen years isn't long to a Vampire,” Rane said.

Of course it wasn't, Savanah thought. She didn't know how long Vampires lived, but according to the black book, the Vampire, Mara, had lived for thousands of years with no end in sight.

Savanah tried to imagine what it would be like to live that long, but it was beyond her comprehension. These days, humans in good health could expect to live a hundred years or more, but to live for thousands of years…She wondered if Vampires ever got tired of living, of forever staying the same while the rest of the world evolved and grew older.

Curious, she put the question to Rane.

He frowned a moment before replying. “It depends on the Vampire. Like mortals, we're all different, colored by the lives we led before we were turned. Some of us pursue education to keep our minds active. Some give up entirely to the lust for blood. Others never fully accept the change. Yearning for their old lifestyle, feeling alienated by the Dark Trick, they usually destroy themselves.”

“Do you have a lust for blood?”

Rane's gaze moved to the pulse beating strongly in her throat. “Always.” He could see by her expression that the idea repulsed her on many levels.

“How can you do it? How can you prey on innocent people and drink their blood?”

“Once a Vampire is turned, it's normal. Only those who don't fully accept what they've become, or who try to cling to their humanity, are bothered by it.”

Savanah lifted a hand to her throat. “Have you ever wanted to drink my blood?”

“Every night.” He met her gaze, wondering what her reaction would be if she knew he had already tasted her—tasted her and yearned for more. He smiled inwardly. There was no need to wonder what her reaction would be. She would doubtless grab a stake and plunge it into his heart.

“Are there other Vampires in Kelton?”

“Would you expect me to tell you if there were?”

“No, I guess not.” She rubbed her hands over her arms. “Have you fully accepted being a Vampire?”

“I had little choice in the matter.”

“Oh, right, I forgot. Do you like it, being a Vampire?”

Rane shrugged. “I scarcely remember any other way of life.” He had forgotten what the sun felt like on his skin, what mortal food tasted like, what it was like to sleep at night. He had never had a regular job, and although he had a first-rate education, there weren't many nighttime jobs that appealed to him. He had started pretending to be a magician because he could pick and choose where and when he wished to perform, and because he could work nights. Unlike his grandfather, he didn't have a great deal of wealth. He didn't own property or a home, didn't own much more than his car and his clothing, but then, he didn't need much, and his meals were free.

“Do you sleep in a coffin?”

“Not anymore.” Once he had decided to become a traveling magician, taking his rest in a casket became impractical.

“What do you sleep in now?”

“My underwear,” he replied, purposefully mistaking her meaning. He grinned when she scowled at him. “A bed, like most of my kind.” These days, most of the Undead had forsaken coffins for the comfort and roominess of king-size beds.

“Well, this has been very educational,” Savanah remarked.

“Are you convinced that I'm not going to hurt you?”

“I guess so.” She bit down on the inside corner of her lip, hesitant to ask the next question, but needing to be sure. “I couldn't be pregnant, could I?”

“No, you don't have to worry about that.”

To her chagrin, she felt more regret than relief.

“I suppose you're hating yourself now for sleeping with a monster, and grateful that you don't have to worry about carrying my child.”

She looked up, surprised by the undercurrent of hurt in his voice. “Rane…”

“I know what I am, Savanah. I know what you're feeling. I know what you're thinking, probably a hell of a lot better than you do.”