Twilight Dreams

“I tried to fight it, but . . .” Cupping her face in his palms, he kissed her lightly, his tongue sweeping over her lower lip, dipping inside to caress her own.

Gasping with pleasure, she melted against him, her arms twining around his neck. All thought of right or wrong fled her mind as he kissed her again, one hand stroking her back, her hair, as his other hand drew her closer. Lost in his touch, enflamed by his kisses, she couldn't think, could scarcely breathe. There was only Micah.

His scent surrounded her.

His kisses intoxicated her.

She shivered with anticipation when his tongue stroked the sensitive skin beneath her ear.

He was going to bite her . . .

 

 

A WHISPER OF ETERNITY

AFTER SUNDOWN

DEAD PERFECT

DEAD SEXY

DESIRE AFTER DARK

NIGHT'S KISS

NIGHT'S MASTER

NIGHT'S PLEASURE

NIGHT'S TOUCH

NIGHT'S MISTRESS

NIGHT'S PROMISE

NIGHT'S SURRENDER

IMMORTAL SINS

EVERLASTING KISS

EVERLASTING DESIRE

BOUND BY NIGHT

BOUND BY BLOOD

HIS DARK EMBRACE

DESIRE THE NIGHT

BENEATH A MIDNIGHT MOON

AS TWILIGHT FALLS

BEAUTY'S BEAST

 

T
WILIGHT
D
REAMS

AMANDA ASHLEY

ZEBRA BOOKS
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

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Table of Contents

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Copyright © 2016 by Madeline Baker

 

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ISBN: 978-1-4201-4248-8

eISBN-13: 978-1-4201-4249-5
eISBN-10: 1-4201-4249-6

For all those who make my life bright
Especially my husband, without whom I wouldn't have
William, John, and Dave
Julie and Marty
Ashley, Amanda, Wade, and Will,
McKayla, Luke, Marissa, Abbey, and Aly
Brandon, Skylynn, and Everley
David and Tim
Love you guys!!!!!

Prologue

 

Micah Ravenwood strolled through the dark streets of Morgan Creek. The town belonged to master vampire Rylan Saintcrow. Only a few years ago, Morgan Creek had been a haven for a coven of the Undead, what Micah had come to think of as a sort of roach motel for humans. People wandered in, but once they crossed the bridge, they were trapped.

Several years ago, Saintcrow had freed the captives. The vampires had scattered, and Saintcrow and his newly turned bride had gone off on an extended honeymoon. Three of the women who'd had nowhere else to go had elected to stay. To Micah's surprise, he had fallen in love with one of them. Shirley was the sweetest, kindest, most generous soul he had ever known.

With her health failing, he had begged her time and again to let him bring her across, but she always refused. Tonight had been no different.

“People aren't meant to live forever,” she had replied with a wistful smile. “I'm ready to go home.”

Micah smiled faintly as he turned up the winding path to his lair. As always, Shirl had left a light burning in the front window for him. It was a gesture that never failed to amuse him. He had no need for lights, but it was Shirl's way of saying she loved him.

He paused to glance at the house. Large and square and made of gray stone, with turrets at the corners, the place reminded him of an old English fortress or, more fitting, perhaps, considering the inhabitants, Dracula's castle. Thick iron bars covered the front door and the windows. Once Saintcrow's lair, Micah had taken it over when Rylan and Kadie left town.

After turning off the lamp, Micah made his way through the dark house, up the stairs to one of the turret rooms, then down the narrow staircase to his lair, located in the bowels of the huge old mansion. Shirley had her own house, but she spent her nights here, with him.

Eager to see her, he quickened his pace as he traversed the dark corridor, only to slow as he neared the door. The air carried the unmistakable scent of death. He paused, hoping he was wrong, but his preternatural senses detected no heartbeat coming from the room beyond. Knowing what lay on the other side of the door, he waited several moments before stepping into the room.

Shirley lay on her side, one hand pillowed beneath her cheek, a faint smile on her lips.

Micah knelt beside the bed, the sting of tears in his eyes as he brushed a wisp of fine gray hair from her brow. “Dammit, Shirl, why didn't you let me bring you over?”

He had been a young vampire, newly turned, when they'd met. Despite the difference in their ages—she had protested she was old enough to be his mother—the affection between them had grown deeper, stronger. She had been his rock, his tether to a world that was no longer his. She had comforted him when the realization of what he'd become had grown too heavy to bear, soothed him when the lust for blood threatened to drive him insane. She had taught him patience, made him laugh, mothered him when he needed mothering, loved him unconditionally in spite of the vast gulf between them. And now she was gone.

He lost track of time as he sat beside her, their shared memories unfolding like a movie through his mind.

In the hour before dawn, he bathed her, dressed her in her favorite white skirt and pink sweater, then left the house.

She had chosen a casket only weeks ago—a plain pine box. Unbeknownst to her, he had taken it back and bought the best casket money could buy. The outside was pale blue with solid gold handles, the inside lined in white silk. Nothing but the best for his best girl.

It waited for him in the garage. With his preternatural strength, he hoisted it onto his back and carried it to the old cemetery. Setting it aside, he found a shovel. Tears stung his eyes as he quickly dug the grave and eased the coffin into the hole.

After brushing the dirt from his hands, he returned to his lair. Lifting Shirley gently into his arms, he carried her quickly to the cemetery. He hugged her close for a long moment, reluctant to let her go.

“I'll miss you,” he murmured. “Thank you for making the last four years bearable.”

Settling her inside the casket, he smoothed her hair, then kissed her withered cheek. “Rest well, sweetheart.”

Fresh tears stung his eyes as he closed the casket.

It took only moments to fill the grave.

“Dammit, Shirl,” he murmured as he smoothed the dirt over her resting place, “you should have accepted the Dark Gift. You'd have been strong again. You wouldn't have grown older, your pain would have been gone. We could have explored the world together, just the two of us.”

Leaving the cemetery, he imagined Shirley strolling down the golden streets of heaven, happy to be reunited with Rosemary and Donna. He imagined the three old friends laughing together, all the aches and pains and grief of mortality forgotten.

Hands shoved deep into his pockets, he went back to the mansion, the rooms now as empty as his heart. Never again, he thought. Never again would he let himself care for a mortal female. Never again would he put himself through the hell of watching a woman he loved wither and die.

Next time he fell in love—if there was a next time—it would be with a vampire.

Chapter One

 

Micah sat at the long ebony bar inside The Lair. He had been coming here long enough to recognize most of the patrons—women looking for a one-night stand, men looking for a woman—any woman—to ease their loneliness for a night or two. He had been in Southern California less than two weeks and had already reached the conclusion that coming to the City of Angels had been a mistake. He had been wandering from one goth hangout to another in hopes of finding a lady vampire, someone to take his mind off his loss, his loneliness, but if there were any vampires here, he hadn't been able to find them. The state seemed to be filled with nothing but movie stars, wannabe movie stars, surfers, and beach bunnies.

He was about to leave the club when he saw her—a young woman who stood an inch or two over five feet. Long blond hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders. Even in the dim light, he noticed her eyes. They were an unusual shade of blue, almost turquoise. Contact lenses, perhaps? A gray sweater and a pair of blue jeans caressed a petite but perfect figure. He guessed her to be in her mid-twenties.

She glanced around the bar, obviously looking for someone. To Micah's surprise, she lifted a hand in greeting when she saw him at the bar and hurried toward him.

“Joseph Burke?” she said, smiling. “Sorry I'm late. I'm Holly Parrish.”

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Parrish. Can I buy you a drink?”

“A vodka martini, please,” she said, taking the stool beside his.

Micah relayed her order and asked for another glass of wine for himself. “Holly,” he murmured. “I'm guessing you were a Christmas baby.”

“Good guess.” She smiled that enchanting smile again. “Mr. Gladstone is very anxious to have you on our team, Mr. Burke. He's prepared to pay you twice what Lindor-Beakman is offering, along with the usual perks, of course—a company car, a three-week vacation, and the best health insurance on the market.”

Micah sipped his wine. “I must admit, it sounds like a very generous offer.”

She nodded. “You won't find a better one.” Lifting her glass, she took a swallow.

His gaze moved to her throat, his nostrils filling with the warm, rich scent of her blood, the flowery fragrance that clung to her hair and skin, her perfume. The faint, musky scent of woman. She might be short and petite, he mused, but she was all female.

Setting her glass aside, she licked her lips. “So, if you're willing to accept Mr. Gladstone's offer, we can close the deal right now. I have the necessary papers in my bag.”

“I'd be more than happy to accept, Miss Parrish, if I was Joseph Burke.”

She blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

“I'm not Joseph Burke. My name is Micah Ravenwood.”

“But . . . you . . . why didn't you stop me . . . ? You . . . you let me sit here and make a fool of myself.”

“Sorry,” he said, smiling, “but I was very much enjoying your company.”

Holly stared at him. She hadn't paid any attention to his looks before. She was here on business, nothing else. Now, she wondered if there was something wrong with her, that she could sit next to such a handsome man and not even notice. Perhaps she needed glasses. Or a vacation! Micah Ravenwood was beyond handsome, with hair so dark a brown it was almost black. His eyes, too, were dark brown, with a hint of mystery. And his mouth . . . well-defined, sensual. She looked away when she realized she was staring. But who could blame her?

Suddenly uncomfortable, she mumbled her thanks for the drink, grabbed her bag, and slid off the stool, eager to put him and this night behind her.

“I'd love to buy you another round, Holly.”

His voice, deep and dark and as rich as Irish whiskey, stopped her in her tracks.

Holly glanced at the door and then at her watch. She would wait for Mr. Burke for another fifteen or twenty minutes, and then she was going home to soak in a hot bubble bath. Whiling away the time with Micah Ravenwood certainly wouldn't be a hardship. It had been months since she'd been out with a man. What harm could there be in having one more drink with the most handsome guy she had ever met? So, she'd made a fool of herself. After tonight, she would never see him again. And sharing a drink with him sounded so much better than spending another Friday night alone in her empty apartment.

“You're not married, are you?” she asked.

“No, ma'am.”

“Then I accept your offer,” she said, returning to her stool.

He signaled the bartender for two more of the same. “So, who or what are Lindor-Beakman?”

“You must be new in California.”

“Sort of. I haven't been here for several years.”

“Oh. Well, they're a rather well-known investment firm, and our biggest competitor.”

Micah nodded. “If I'm ever in the mood to invest, I'll be sure to call you first.”

“I'd appreciate that.”

“So, what do you do when you're not stalking clients?”

Holly shrugged. “The same things as anybody else. Take in a movie. Read a book. Go for a walk along the beach.”

Micah glanced around. “This seems like an odd place to do business.”

“I thought so, too,” she said with a grimace. “I know it's all just make-believe, but seriously, why would anyone want to be a vampire?”

“Staying young and living forever might be considered a perk by some.”

“Maybe. But if vampires existed, which, thankfully, they don't, no one would want that lifestyle. I mean, all the books say they can't go outside in the sun and they can't enjoy a good meal, and then there's the whole blood thing,” she said, grimacing. “All that aside, what's the point of living forever if you can't have a family?”

“I guess you want a lot of kids.”

“Dozens,” she said, grinning.

He lifted one brow. “Dozens?”

“I'm an only child. I always wanted brothers and sisters. I don't intend to let any kids I might have grow up without siblings.”

“That's an unusual outlook these days, when people are marrying later and limiting their families to one or two.”

“I guess so. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you want a big family?”

“I never thought about it,” he lied. He had come from a loving family. Once, he'd hoped to have a wife and children of his own. That was no longer possible. He sipped his wine, but it tasted sour on his tongue. “So, who's the lucky man who's going to father all those kids?”

“I don't know,” she said, somewhat wistfully. “I haven't met him yet.”

His gaze met hers. “Maybe you're not looking in the right place.”

His voice moved over her like silk, making her think of tangled sheets and warm summer nights. Clearing her throat, Holly said, “Well, to tell you the truth, I don't have a lot of time to look. I work all week, spend Saturdays cleaning my apartment, picking up my dry cleaning, doing the laundry. . . .” She shook her head. “By the time Saturday night rolls around, all I want to do is veg out in front of the TV.”

“So, what if I asked you to do all those things on Sunday instead, and go out with me tomorrow night?”

Holly lifted her glass and took a long swallow. Her first instinct was to say no. Other than his name, she didn't know anything about Micah Ravenwood. He could be a rapist or a child molester or a con man. These days, only an idiot hooked up with a stranger she met in a bar, especially a bar filled with Dracula wannabes.

“I could show you my ID if that'll help you make up your mind.”

“What would that prove? Those things can be easily faked these days.”

He nodded. “True enough. Can I call you sometime?”

“I guess so.” Taking a pen from her bag, she wrote her cell number on a cocktail napkin.

“Thanks, sunshine.” Rising, he took her hand in his and kissed it. “Good luck with the real Joseph Burke.”

* * *

Holly stared after Micah Ravenwood, stunned by the tingle of electricity she had experienced when his lips brushed against her skin. Nothing like that had ever happened before. But then Micah Ravenwood was like no man she had ever met. She couldn't quite put her finger on what it was that set him apart. Oh, he was handsome as sin, his voice as seductive as a warm fire on a winter night, but it was more than that.

Bemused, she finished her drink, wondering if he would call her and what she would say if he did.

She was about to leave the club when her cell phone rang. Joseph Burke, no doubt, calling to apologize for missing their meeting, or, worse, Mr. Gladstone wanting to know how the meeting went.

She felt a sudden prickle of anticipation when she picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“So, how about that date?”

It was Micah. She would recognize that deep, mesmerizing, sexy-as-hell voice anywhere. “What did you have in mind, Mr. Ravenwood?”

“I'm willing to do anything you want.”

That voice. It made her think of a dozen things she would like him to do, none of them likely to happen with a man she had just met, sexy voice or not. Taking a deep, calming breath, she said, “There's a movie I've been wanting to see.”

“Fine by me. Should I pick you up?”

“How about if I meet you there?”

He laughed softly, obviously amused by her prudence. “Just tell me when and where.”

“Tomorrow night, at seven, in front of the theater on Main Street.”

“I'll be there. Sweet dreams, sunshine.”

Even over the phone, the sound of his voice sent a shiver of pleasure spiraling through her. She was smiling when she ended the call.

Holly thought about Micah on the drive home and while taking a shower, eating dinner, brushing her teeth, lying in bed. Who was he? What did he do for a living? How could she have forgotten to ask?

Was she making a mistake, going out with a man she knew nothing about just because he was incredibly handsome and had a whiskey-rough voice she could listen to all day long?

Holly shook off her fears. She had pepper spray in her bag. She knew a little karate. She would be surrounded by people in the theater.

She was worrying for nothing.

Smiling at the thought of seeing him again, she closed her eyes. No house cleaning tomorrow. She needed a haircut and a manicure.

And a new outfit. For a new man.