Starry Knight (31 page)

He took a moment to assess Armstrong’s condition. Her victim was conscious, but his eyes were closed. As the shadowy image of Vanessa riding him swept across Callum’s mind, strong emotion reached up to strangle him. Resentment laced with jealousy and hatred.

“Leave us,” he commanded in a tone she’d be foolish to defy. This would be hard enough without an audience.

She left the room with a huff and, when the bedroom door slammed behind her, he pulled the easy chair over and sat down. Setting his elbows upon his knees, he scrubbed his face with both hands. By the might of Mars. How could she have let things get this bad? He would have come in an instant if she’d asked him to. He’d made that perfectly clear. So why did she delay?

He sat back, steepled his fingers, and studied his would-be progeny with escalating angst. Judging by Armstrong’s color, he’d lost a goodly amount of blood.

“Can you hear me?” Callum asked.

Armstrong’s eyes opened to slits and he let out a feeble moan. He was conscious, so he might recover, but he also might not. Was waiting to see worth the risk of Vanessa’s arrest and probable imprisonment? He had mixed feelings about the life he held in his hands. Part of him wanted Armstrong to die. The petty, macho, possessive part. That same part also wanted to punish Vanessa, though not enough to send her to prison.

But the more reasonable part knew this was partly his own fault. If he hadn’t pretended to be something he wasn’t, this never would have happened. He was a double Leo, damn it, which she knew. It wasn’t in his nature to wait for a woman who wanted her freedom more than she wanted him.

He took a breath to cool his inner fire and returned his attention to the problem at hand. “What’s it going to be, Mr. Armstrong? Death or eternal life? The choice is yours.”

“Not death,” Armstrong rasped. “I’ve got kids.”

Callum’s outrage spiked along with his heart rate. How could she have done this to a man with children? What the hell had she been thinking? He fisted his hands and clenched his jaw. Would he have the strength to control his temper when he confronted her later?

“I feel duty-bound to warn you that immortality has its downsides,” he told Armstrong. “Your sex drive will increase by leaps and bounds and, if you choose to feed from animals, as I generally do, your libido will demand that you copulate every few days.”

Armstrong swallowed. “I can live with that.”

Aye, well. Callum still wasn’t sure
he
could. He’d turned Vanessa out of desperation because he couldn’t bear her death. Changing Beau Armstrong would be a calculated decision. Was keeping Vanessa out of prison—and their secret safe—a justifiable impetus for turning someone? Maybe. Probably. Since her conviction would destroy more lives than her own. On the other hand, she’d brought this on herself through her damned Aquarian bloody-mindedness. He’d warned her what would happen if the bloodlust got out of hand, but she refused to listen.

“Ours is a cruel curse, my friend, as you’ll soon learn,” Callum said, unsure if Armstrong could still hear him. Though the man looked very bad, he still felt compelled to say his piece. “We’re like animals in many ways—driven by bestial instincts to feed and mate—but with human emotions. Sex isn’t a choice; it’s essential to our survival. Abstinence is lethal, which she knew and chose to ignore.”

“She did it for you,” Armstrong croaked.

Had she? Callum found it hard to believe, given her failure to invite him for a visit. “Even if that’s true”—which he seriously doubted—“it doesn’t excuse reckless endangerment.”

When he got no response, Callum checked the pulse on Armstrong’s wrist. It was weak and rapid. If he didn’t act now, the poor bugger would expire from exsanguination.

Callum dropped to his knees and bent over the dying man. Guilt, hurt, and anger wove a braid around his heart as he sank his fangs into his own wrist. Holding the dripping wound to Armstrong’s lips, he urged the man to drink. It took a wee bit of coaxing before Armstrong latched on and began to suck.

“You’re going to feel like hell for a couple of days as you undergo the transformation,” Callum told him as he drank. “When it’s over, you’ll be stronger, faster, and your senses will be keener. You’ll need blood and sex pretty quickly, but we’ll have time to figure that out. I’ll stick around for a few days to impart what you’ll need to know, but, after that, you’re on your own.”

When the deed was done, Callum left Armstrong to rest and recuperate and returned to the bedroom. The door was closed. He remembered then she’d slammed it when he ordered her out of the room. Was she stewing in her juices? He rapped on the door in as gentlemanly a manner as he could manage. Her response would tell him whether or not to gird his loins.

“Come in.”

She sounded calm, so he opened the door to find her perched on the foot of the bed in a pink kimono. She met his gaze with a penitent expression. Good. Sorry was good. She wouldn’t look contrite if she planned to rip him a new one.

He parked himself beside her and folded his hands in his lap. The coolness blasting out of a box in the window was the only good thing about the air in the room. He hadn’t realized how hot he’d been until he felt it on his sweaty skin.

“How’d it go?”

“Well enough,” he said tightly. “He’s one of us now.”

“Thanks for helping.”

He scoffed. “Did I have a choice?”

“I guess not,” she said, setting her head on his shoulder. “I’m really sorry about everything, Callum. I don’t know what came over me. I totally lost control.”

He swallowed his rising irritation. “Why’d you let it get this bad? Why didn’t you ring and ask me to come? I would have been here in a heartbeat. You have to know that.”

“I didn’t want to need you,” she offered meekly.

His banked fury burst into a blaze. “And for that, you endangered the lives of everyone around you? Good God, Vanessa. Do you never think of anyone but yourself?”

She pulled away and fixed him with a petulant glare. “Jesus, Callum. I said I was sorry. What more do you want from me?”

He wanted everything, but he wasn’t about to tell her that. She had too much power over him already.

“Nothing.”

Without looking at her or saying another word, he left the bedroom. In the living room, as he stood there, fists and teeth clenched, anguish closed around his heart like an iron maiden. What in the name of God had he done? He’d put everything on the line for a woman who, just like both his wives, didn’t have it in her nature to care for him.

Vanessa, aggrieved over Beau and at a loss about how to mollify Callum, stepped out of the bathroom, her silk kimono clinging to her freshly showered skin. To her great surprise, Callum was stretched out in the center of her bed like the king of all he surveyed. His hands were tucked behind his head, his legs crossed at the ankles, and his eyes closed. Except for his shoes, which he’d tucked neatly under the foot of the bed, he was still fully dressed.

Her insides twinged with guilt as she took in his short hair. She’d loved his beautiful golden mane and now it was gone—because she’d tried to change him. She felt like Delilah, assuming the conniving temptress felt remorse for what she’d done to Samson. Callum opened his eyes and met her gaze. “Feel better?”

“I will when you apologize.”

“For what?”

“For saying I think only of myself.”

His eyes narrowed. “Even if it’s true?”

Her face heated and she looked away, unable to bear his stare. “If that’s really what you think of me, why did you come?”

“Why didn’t you call me? I want the real reason.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” she asked, turning the question back on him. The truth would lay her open and she felt too vulnerable already.

“Because you’re Madam Butterfly.”

The accusation stung, probably because there was truth in it. Even though she cared for him—more than she’d cared for any other man—she’d flown away from him. Because he’d asked her to be his mistress—not that she was clear on why that bothered her so much. Did she feel it cheapened their relationship and her value? Or did she simply want more?

“I announced my candidacy,” he said, steering the conversation to safer ground.

“I know, my father told me.”

“It would have been nice if you’d been there,” he added, not bothering to hide his bitterness.

“I wanted to be there.”

There was a long, awkward silence before he said, his tone heating, “Why didn’t you call me? I want the truth, so I can decide what to do about all this.”

Fear sparked in her heart. Was he thinking of breaking things off? She wasn’t sure what she wanted from him, but she knew she didn’t want that. Mustering her courage, she prepared to take the plunge into honesty. Given the choice, she’d much rather bare her soul than break her own heart. “Fine. You want the truth? Here it is: I didn’t call because I didn’t want to step on your big bloody Leo ego.”

He laughed, an unexpected response. “God Almighty. What a daft pair of twats we are.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, turning back to him.

“I didn’t call because I didn’t want to step on your wings.”

Vanessa bit her lip. What fools love made of people, if in fact this was love. She still wasn’t sure. She only knew she couldn’t bear the thought of living without him.

“Callum?”

“Aye?”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

The tremulous smile he gave her touched her heart.

“So am I, lass. Despite everything.”

She crawled to him on all fours and kissed him—a brush of the lips, a touch of the tongue—and then, with a mild jolt, remembered her Good Samaritan. Pushing up a little, she said, “I almost forgot in all the madness—I met a guy the other night I’m almost certain is one of us.”

Concern—or was it jealousy?—flashed behind his eyes just before they narrowed. “Met him
how
?”

Annoyed, she compressed her lips. “If I’d slept with him, do you honestly think I’d have pounced on poor Beau like a she-devil?”

“I suppose not,” he said, clearly unconvinced.

“I met him after I went hunting my first night here,” she started to explain. “I got a flat tire and he stopped to change it for me.”

The dent between Callum’s eyebrows deepened. “And what makes you so sure he’s one of us?”

“The way he smelled.”

“Oh, aye?” Suspicion narrowed his eyes. “And just how did he
smell
, eh?”

“Just like you.” Flattered by his obvious-yet-baseless jealousy, she kissed his mouth to reassure him of her devotion. “His name is Finn MacKnight. He told me he tends bar at a place called Napoleon House. I thought we might pop in for a drink one night while you’re here so you can get a look at him for yourself.”

“All right,” he agreed, looking skeptical. “But I can’t imagine he’s Avalonian. As I told you before, there’s only me and MacQuill in this realm. And I’m only here because Queen Morgan doesn’t know I’m alive. She keeps her knights under lock and key, lass. Frankly, I’m surprised she let MacQuill out into the world, though she did put a curse on him. Perhaps she thought he’d suffer more that way than if she killed him.”

“Doesn’t she worry he’ll father the drone of the prophecy?”

“Nay, because the prophecy says the drone who dethrones her will be a full blood, and there aren’t any fertile Avalonian females on this side of the veil.”

“What about me?”

“You were made, not born,” he said, forehead wrinkling again, “which doesn’t count.”

Now that things were easier between them, Vanessa was ready for make-up sex, so she sat down on the front of his trousers. He was already hard, which pleased, but didn’t surprise. She eased the top button of his shirt out of its hole before moving to the next one and the next. He watched this ritual with blistering intensity, but neither moved nor spoke.
When his shirt was open, she tugged the tails free of his belt, and pushed the halves aside to expose his bare chest. Bending over him, she kissed his nipples, one after the other, before rubbing her cheek against his wiry chest hair. The familiar feel and smell of him made her ache for more.

“I missed you,” she whispered.

Sitting up, she gazed into his eyes, hoping he’d say he’d missed her, too. He didn’t. He just stared at her with those yellow-hot eyes of his, reducing her soul to cinders.

“Put on some sexy underthings, eh?”

As much as she didn’t want to move away, neither did she want to deny him. She’d denied him enough, like a stupid ass, believing she was giving him what he wanted. Or had she subconsciously been punishing him? Yes, she was peeved he’d asked her to be his mistress, as if she were some common trollop.

Was that why it bothered her? Because she thought herself too high and mighty to be a kept woman?

As she got up, she took his hand and kissed his knuckles. His eyes smoldered, but with desire or something more? He’d never declared his feelings. Not really. She knew he cared, but not how much. She let him go, climbed off the bed, and crossed to the dresser. Opening the top drawer, she took out the bits and bobs of the Bo Peep ensemble he’d bought her that day in Wick.

Though her back was to him, the heat of his stare scorched her flesh. She peeled off her kimono like she was doing a strip-tease, milking the moment for all it was worth. Little by little, she let the robe slip down her body until it pooled on the floor at her feet. The noise he made at the sight of her naked backside shot a delicious thrill straight to her sex.

She fastened the corset, hooked the garter belt around her waist, and bent to slip on the frilly crinoline, giving him a view of the goods. She jumped when his big, warm hand came between her legs and gasped when he slipped two fingers into her vagina. He moved them around as he playfully nipped at her hip.

Though it felt divine, she wasn’t quite ready to bring the curtain down on her little show. With a laugh, she pulled out of his grasp.

Returning to the dresser, she pulled out a pair of stockings. Black with lace tops and a seam down the back. She let them float on the air as she back-stepped toward the bed. Sitting beside him, she gathered one delicate tube down to the toe before slipping it over her foot. As she unfurled the silk up her outstretched leg, she heard his breath catch. Yes! With a smile playing on her lips, she pulled the second stocking on just as seductively before fastening the dangling clips. When she stood and started toward the closet, he seized her by the hips and pulled her back, onto his lap.