Night's Surrender (4 page)

Abbey woke late after a mostly sleepless night. She had met a man she liked, but both her father and Mara were convinced that Nick had some ulterior motive for asking her out. What if they were right? More importantly, what if they were wrong? What if Nick was exactly as he seemed—a nice, sweet, sexy guy.

Try as she might, she couldn't ignore the little voice in the back of her mind that said if he was on the up-and-up, he would have knocked on the front door instead of lurking in the bushes, spying on her.

After showering, she ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for breakfast, washed it down with a cup of coffee heavily laced with cream and sugar, and went out the back door, heading for the barn.

She quickly fed the stock, then spent a few minutes scratching her mare's ears before going to the cottage. It was time she settled in. She needed to unpack her clothes, do a little dusting, vacuum the rugs, change the linens on the bed.

The same bed she had imagined sharing with Nick.

She rounded the corner of the cottage, let out a shriek when she saw him standing on the front porch.

She stared at him a moment, then whirled around and sprinted back up the gravel path, shrieked again when his hand closed on her shoulder, bringing her to an abrupt halt.

“Easy, now.” Taking a firm hold on her wrist, he drew her back toward the cottage, pulled her gently up the porch stairs, only to stop at the threshold. “Are you going to invite me in?”

“No!”

“We need to talk.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you, of course. Why else would I be here?”

“You drank my blood, didn't you? That's how you found me.”

“I only took a little.” And he had been wanting more—much more—ever since.

She glared at him. “How could you do such a despicable thing?”

“Despicable?” He lifted one brow. “Coming from a family of vampires as you do, I wouldn't think you'd give it a second thought.”

“Well, you thought wrong!” She tried in vain to wrench her arm from his grasp, but he had a grip like iron. “How do you know about my family?”

“I can smell them on you.” It was the truth, but it wasn't how he'd known that she was related to the Cordovas. Her mind was an open book. Someone really should teach her how to block her thoughts.

“Let me go!”

“Calm down, Abbey. I'm not here to hurt you.”

“What do you want from me?”

“How about that second date you promised me?”

Abbey stared at him. A date? He had caused all this trouble and confusion for another date? “My father thinks you want something else from me.”

“Oh?”

“Do you? Want something?”

A smile twitched his lips. “Maybe a kiss good night when I bring you home?”

“Stop joking! This is serious.”

“I'm not
after
anything, Abbey. I just want to get to know you better.”

“Mara thinks . . .”

His hand tightened around her wrist, his gaze spearing hers. “Mara's here?”

“You're hurting me!” Abbey exclaimed.

“I'm sorry.” He released her immediately. “What is she doing here?”

Abbey shook her hand, which had gone numb. “She's a friend of the family.”

Nick stared at her as if he had seen a ghost. “Mara. Here. After all this time.” His nostrils flared. “How did I miss her scent?” he wondered aloud.

Abbey took a step backward. When he didn't seem to notice, she took another. And then another. Reaching behind her, she opened the door and darted across the threshold. Inside, she breathed a sigh of relief, knowing he couldn't enter without an invitation.

Nick shook his head as if to clear it; then, regarding her across the threshold, he said, “So, how about that date?”

“I don't think so.”

He leaned one shoulder against the jamb, ankles crossed negligently, as if he was prepared to stay there all day. “What can I say to change your mind?”

“How do you know Mara?”

“It's a long story. Maybe I'll tell you about it one of these days.”

Intrigued, Abbey cocked her head to the side. “Why not now?”

“I don't think so. Not until I know you better.”

“My father said you're an old vampire. Is that true?”

A shadow passed behind Nick's eyes, and then he shrugged. “I guess it depends on what you call old.”

“Just tell me!”

“Does it matter?”

Abbey nodded, her hands clenching. The man was impossible. “I'm afraid so.”

“I've been a vampire almost as long as Mara.”

Feeling suddenly light-headed, Abbey swayed on her feet. Mara had been alive during the reign of Cleopatra. She wasn't sure why she was so shocked to learn that Nick was ancient, except that Mara had always been a law unto herself. One of a kind. And Nick was almost as old. What had he seen in that vast amount of time? How many lives had he taken? How many women had he loved and lost?

Nick pushed away from the jamb, his eyes narrowing. “Abbey, I think you'd better sit down.”

“I think you're right,” she murmured, and after quietly closing the door in his face, she sank down on the floor, knees bent, her face buried in her hands.

“Abbey? Abbey! Dammit, answer me!?”

“Go away, Nick. Please, just go away.”

“All right,” he replied. “But I'm not going far. You still owe me another date.”

 

 

Nick paced away from the cottage, melting into the cool shadows beneath the trees. He could be active during the day, but only when the moon was high in the sky did he feel fully alive.

Mind spinning, he stared at the distant mountains. Mara was here. His thoughts traveled back in time to that fateful night when he had met a beguiling young woman with hair like black silk and eyes as green as the grassy banks of the Nile. As if it had happened yesterday, he remembered being seduced by her. Remembered the sting of her fangs at his throat, the horror of learning what she was. What he had become. The fear that engulfed him when he woke one night to find her gone.

Abandoned by his maker after only a few months, he had been lost, uncertain of what he truly was, ignorant of most of the powers that were now his. Driven by an insatiable lust for blood, he had savaged those he fed upon, killed indiscriminately before he discovered that he didn't have to take a life to sustain his own, that he could make feeding pleasurable for those he preyed upon. How many lives had he needlessly taken before he learned to control his hunger? Even now, centuries later, the guilt rode him with whip and spurs. Yes, she owed him, he thought, owed him for the lives he had taken. For the life she had stolen from him.

He glanced back at the cottage. Only a few short days ago, he had yearned for death, had intended to spend the rest of his existence seeking Mara's whereabouts and an end to his damnably long life. Now the means to that end was here, but death no longer held any appeal because Abbey was also here.

Abbey. Her smile was brighter than the sun, her life's blood sweeter than honey.

He would not court death now. Not while she drew breath.

 

 

Abbey sat on the floor for a long while, her mind blessedly blank. Eventually, the hard floor drove her to her feet. She stood there a moment, then shook her head. Needing something to take her mind off Nick, she went into the bedroom and unpacked her suitcases, hanging her clothes in the closet, carefully folding her underwear before putting it in the dresser.

She stripped the linen from the bed and tossed it into the washing machine located in a small alcove off the kitchen, dusted the furniture, vacuumed the carpets. And when that was done, she took a quick shower, slipped into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, pulled on her boots. A nice long ride was exactly what she needed to clear her head.

After peering out the front window to make sure Nick was gone, she went to the barn and saddled Freckles.

The Appy was eager to run. Giving the mare her head, Abbey surrendered to the sheer joy of racing over the gently rolling hills, reveling in the kiss of the afternoon sun on her cheeks and the warm wind blowing in her hair. It was exhilarating, liberating.

Gradually, Freckles slowed to a canter, then a trot, then a walk.

Murmuring, “Whoa, girl,” Abbey drew rein in the shade of a tree. Dismounting, she ground-tied the mare, loosened the saddle cinch, then flopped down on the grass. She sat there a moment, then fell back, arms outstretched, and closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, Nick sat beside her.

Startled, she jackknifed into a sitting position, her heart pounding. “Go away.”

“Abbey, please . . .”

“Please what?”

“Don't be afraid of me. You've nothing to fear from me, I swear it on the memory of my mother.”

“You had a mother?” she asked flippantly.

He shrugged. “I barely remember her.”

Overcome with guilt for her sarcastic remark, Abbey laid her hand on his arm. “I'm sorry.”

“Like I said, I barely remember her.”

His fingers stroked the back of her hand. Warmth flowed in the wake of his touch.

“I'm sorry I scared you earlier,” he said quietly. “As for taking your blood . . . it was a temptation I couldn't resist. I should have asked you first.”

“Apology accepted.”

His smile went straight to her heart. When he reached for her, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to settle into his embrace. For a time he simply held her, one hand lightly stroking her hair. And that quickly, all her doubts faded away. His gentle touch, the tender expression in his eyes, assured her that he would never hurt her. It no longer mattered what anyone else thought. If her Uncle Roshan could fall in love with a photograph of a witch, then she could fall in love with Nick.

“What are you smiling at?” he asked.

“Nothing. I'm just happy you're here.”

He stroked her cheek with his knuckles, ran his fingertips over her lower lip. “Women,” he muttered with a shake of his head. “I'll never understand them. Aren't you the same girl who told me to get lost just a short time ago?”

“It's my prerogative to change my mind. Didn't you know?”

He laughed softly, then swooped down to claim her lips in a long, slow kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him tightly as he ravaged her mouth. He nipped her lower lip, his tongue slipping inside to duel with hers, sending frissons of heat spearing through every fiber of her being.

“What the hell is going on here!”

At the sound of her father's voice, Abbey pushed Nick away and scrambled to her feet, her cheeks burning. “Dad!”

Nick rose slowly to stand beside her.

Rane glared at him. “Get off my land. Now!”

A muscle throbbed in Nick's jaw. He was taller than Rane Cordova. Older. Stronger. But Rane was Abbey's father. There was nothing to be gained—and much to be lost—by fighting with the man.

Nick gave Abbey's hand a squeeze and then, in a move too quick for her to follow, he was gone.

“Do you want to tell me what you're doing rolling around out here in the grass with a perfect stranger?” Rane demanded, his voice tight.

Abbey lifted her head, hands clenched at her sides. “He's not a stranger. And I have every right to ‘roll around in the grass' with him if I want to. I'm not a little girl anymore. I'm twenty-six. Old enough to do whatever I please.”

“Abbey . . .” He took a deep breath, knowing that he had to be careful. Saying the wrong thing now could damage their relationship, send her back to the city where she was liable to do something stupid just to spite him.

“I never believed in love at first sight,” she whispered, “but I do now.”

Her declaration left him speechless. Not knowing what else to do, he drew her into his arms.

The situation was even worse than he had feared.

Mara, Logan, and Savanah were waiting for Rane and Abbey at the main house.

“What's happened?” Abbey asked, glancing anxiously from one sober expression to the next. “Did someone die?”

“Not yet.” Mara shook her head. “Why is it bad things always happen in threes? First Nick shows up, and now this.”

At the mention of Nick's name, Rane and Abbey exchanged glances.

Savanah looked at Mara. “What's happened?”