Twilight Dreams (2 page)

Chapter Two

Holly smiled when she saw Micah waiting outside the theater on Saturday night. Clad in black slacks, a black shirt open at the throat, and a black leather jacket, he looked handsome and mysterious and just a little dangerous. He whistled softly when he saw her, which made the hours she had spent shopping for a new outfit and having her hair and nails done worth every minute. And every dollar.

He paid for their tickets and followed her into the lobby. “Do you want popcorn?” he asked. “Ice cream? Candy?”

“Popcorn, of course. It's not a movie without popcorn. And a soda, please.”

“So, how was your day?” he asked as they took their place in the concession line.

“Busy.” Holly couldn't help sneaking glances at his profile while they waited in line, noting, as she did so, that several other women were also admiring him.

His gaze moved over her. “I can see you didn't spend the day cleaning house.”

“You're very observant,” she said dryly.

“Well, you look great.” She wore a pair of crisp white slacks and a blue silk blouse that made her eyes sparkle like sapphires.

“So do you. Sort of like James Dean.”

Micah chuckled. “That's me. Rebel without a cause.”

“Are you a rebel?”

“I can be.” He paid for the refreshments, trying not to grimace as the scent of butter and salt stung his nostrils.

Although the theater was crowded, they managed to find two seats in the last row. Micah handed her the popcorn, glad to be rid of it, then set the soda in the cup holder between them.

He hadn't paid much attention to the title of the movie when he bought the tickets, and now couldn't help grinning when he realized it was a horror film and that the monster was a vampire.

Leaning toward her, he whispered, “I never would have figured you for a horror buff.”

“Why not?”

“You just don't seem like the type.”

“Well, if you get scared, just let me know and I'll hold your hand.”

“Really?” He flashed her a wicked grin. “Then I'll get scared.”

Micah settled back in his seat as the theater went dark. After a number of trailers, the movie started. It was your typical monster movie, with the vampire being the villain, and not a suave, charming type either, but a ruthless killer who ripped out hearts and savaged throats. A team of vampire hunters chased him across the country, with the leader of the slayers predictably falling in love with the heroine. Of course, the vampire loved her, too, but he never had a chance.

About halfway through the movie, Micah reached for Holly's hand, whispering, “Okay, I'm scared now.”

Holly looked at him and shook her head, but she didn't pull away.

The movie ended with the vampire hunter saving the heroine from the nasty vampire by driving a stake into the monster's heart, then setting him on fire.

Micah grimaced as the vampire went up in flames. There were few things he feared, but death by fire was one of them.

They remained seated during the credits, waiting for the crowd to disperse.

“So, did you like the movie?” Holly asked.

“It was all right,” he said with a shrug. “But it would have been nice if they'd let the vampire get the girl.”

“Seriously? He was a killer, a monster. He didn't deserve a happy ending.”

“Maybe not, but he loved the girl, too.”

“Well, he had a funny way of showing it. Carrying her off to his lair and keeping her prisoner.”

“True, but she wouldn't have stayed with him otherwise. Besides, given the chance, she might have made him change his evil ways.”

“Quite the optimist, aren't you?”

“Not really,” he muttered. “Are you ready to go?”

She nodded and they left the theater.

“Would you like to go out for a drink or get something to eat?” Micah asked.

“I guess so. There's a nice club just down the street.”

“Great.”

“What do you do for a living?” Holly asked as they strolled down the sidewalk. “You never told me.”

“I'm sort of between jobs at the moment.”

“What do you do when you're working?”

“I was a computer programmer in a little town called Morgan Creek.” The lie rolled easily off his tongue.

“I've never heard of the place. Where is it?”

“Wyoming. It's a ghost town now.”

“What happened?”

Good question, he thought. Unfortunately, he couldn't tell her the whole truth, so he settled for part of it. “Business fell off. When the owner left town, only a few people stayed behind. But now they're all gone, too.”

“That's so sad. I hate to hear about a business failing, but a whole town?” She shook her head.

“I hated to leave, but . . .” He made a vague gesture with his hand. “Things happen.”

“We're here.” Holly paused in front of a large, redbrick building. A bright green neon sign in the shape of a guitar made the place hard to miss. The words C
ALIFORNIA
C
OWBOY
blinked off and on over the entrance.

Micah held the door open for Holly, then followed her inside. “So the girl likes horror films
and
country music,” he mused. “I find that an intriguing combination.”

“You don't like country?”

“Hey, what's not to like? Sad songs about cheating hearts and lost love . . .” He swore under his breath. Shirley had loved country music. They had spent many a night sitting on her front porch, listening to Lady Antebellum and Toby Keith and her favorite, Garth Brooks.

“Micah? Are you all right?”

“Yeah, fine. There's an empty booth in the back. Come on.”

After ordering drinks, Micah asked Holly to dance.

She fit in his arms as if she had been made for him. He twirled her around the floor, keenly aware of her curvy little body brushing against his, of the attraction that sparked between them. Did she feel it, too? How could she not?

He was thinking of stealing a kiss when an unmistakable scent wafted through the air. Looking toward the entrance, Micah felt all his preternatural senses go on alert.

Taking Holly by the hand, he led her off the floor.

“Is something wrong?” she asked as he hurried her back to their booth.

“Our drinks arrived,” he replied, his attention focused on the man and the woman who had just entered the club. The woman was a vampire. He wasn't sure what the man was. Not a vampire. Not entirely human.

Holly followed his gaze toward the couple standing just inside the door. “Do you know them?”

“Never seen them before,” he replied. But he didn't like the looks of either one. An odd tang that reminded Micah of smoke and something he couldn't quite put his finger on clung to the man. It smelled like death.

Micah watched the vampire and her companion glide across the room to the bar. The woman had been turned in her early twenties. She was tall and thin to the point of looking anorexic, although being one of the Undead made that technically impossible. She had hair so fine, so pale in color, it was almost invisible. The man was shorter, with spiked brown hair and an ugly scar along the left side of his neck. They sat side by side, their heads close together. Micah frowned when he heard the woman mention Saintcrow's name.

“Holly, would you excuse me for a minute? I need to make a phone call.”

“Is something wrong?”

“No, I just need to check in with an old friend of mine. I'll be right back.”

Micah left the club by the back door. In the parking lot, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and punched in Rylan Saintcrow's number.

The master vampire answered on the first ring. “Micah, where the hell are you?”

“California. Where are you?”

“In Morgan Creek. We got here late last night.”

“Everything okay?” Micah asked. “I thought you'd be gone another year or so.”

“Yeah, well, Kadie got tired of traveling so we came home for a while. What's up?”

“I'm in a country bar. . . .” Micah grimaced at the sound of Saintcrow snickering. “There's a couple here. The woman's a vampire. Tall, skinny, pale blond hair. Looks like a refugee from a Nazi death camp.”

“Leticia Braga,” Saintcrow said, all amusement gone from his voice.

“You know her, then?”

“Yeah, I know her. She's poison.”

“As bad as Lilith?” Micah asked. Lilith had turned him into a vampire against his will, thereby putting an end to his hopes of becoming an actor. Turned him and abandoned him. He had met Saintcrow soon after. The master vampire had taken Micah under his wing and taught him what he needed to know to survive his new lifestyle.

“Worse.”

“I get the feeling there's something you're not telling me.”

“She's been hunting me for a long time.”

“How long?”

“About two hundred years, give or take a few.”

“Why?”

“We had a little disagreement.”

“Little?” Micah snorted. “Must have been some hellacious argument, to last over two centuries.” Of course, for a vampire, a couple hundred years wasn't all that long.

“Yeah,” Saintcrow said dryly, “it was. Maybe someday I'll tell you about it.”

“Sounds like a good story. Is she as old as you are?”

“Not even close,” Saintcrow said. “Is she alone?”

“No, there's man with her.”

“Built like a bull? Short dark hair, smells like smoke and wormwood?”

Wormwood, that was it, Micah thought. “I take it you know him, too.” No surprise, there. When you'd lived as long as Saintcrow—who had been turned during the Crusades—you were bound to have run into a lot of people, both alive and Undead.

“All I know is what I've heard,” Saintcrow replied. “His name's Mahlon. He's Braga's bodyguard.”

A vampire with a bodyguard. That was a new one. “What is he?”

“I don't really know for sure. Some say he's a demon summoned by a witch. Some say he's a Djinn. Others say he's human but immortal.”

“Is that even possible?”

“I don't know, but I'd steer clear of both of them if I were you.”

“Yeah, that sounds like good advice.”

There was a moment of silence before Saintcrow said, “I'm sorry about Shirley.”

Micah swallowed hard. “Thanks.” He wasn't surprised that Saintcrow knew about her passing. The man had always seemed to know everything that happened in Morgan Creek, whether he was there or not. “How's Kadie doing?”

“Prettier and sweeter every day.”

Micah groaned. “Sorry I asked.”

“How long are you planning to stay in California?”

“I'm not sure.”

“Well, if you want to come back here, you know you're more than welcome.”

“Thanks.” Micah ended the call. He stood in the shadows a moment, his thoughts on what Saintcrow had said about the strangers in the bar, the deep affection in his voice when he spoke of Kadie. Micah had hoped he and Shirley would have the kind of relationship Saintcrow and Kadie enjoyed, but it was not to be. Micah would never admit it to anyone else, but it had hurt, knowing that Shirley hadn't loved him enough to accept the Dark Gift.

With a shake of his head, he slipped his phone into his jacket pocket. Shirley was gone and he couldn't bring her back.

Micah scanned the room when he returned to the bar. The vampire and her companion were nowhere to be seen, but the man's stink lingered in the air. Why had they come here? A country bar hardly seemed like the kind of place the Braga woman would hang out. He grinned inwardly as he walked toward the booth where Holly waited. It wasn't the kind of place he normally frequented, either.

* * *

Totally besotted, Holly smiled at Micah as he guided her around the dance floor. She feared her infatuation with him had more to do with the amount of alcohol she had consumed than anything else. But there was no denying he was gorgeous and sexy and a fantastic dancer.

She offered no protest when he brushed a kiss across her lips. Quite the opposite. She twined her arms around his neck and, heedless of the crowd on the dance floor, kissed him long and hard. And, oh my, could that man kiss. Never in her life had she experienced anything like it. His lips were cool and firm as he took control, his tongue sweeping across her lips, dipping inside. Every nerve and fiber in her being responded to his touch, and she clung to him as if he were the only solid thing in a world suddenly spinning out of control. If his kisses affected her like this, what would it be like to . . . She quickly put the brakes on that train of thought. She had just met the man! She shivered as he kissed his way along the side her neck. What was he doing to her?

She was breathless when he lifted his head, his dark eyes burning into hers with a need that frightened her even as it unleashed a host of restless butterflies in the pit of her stomach.

She blinked up at him. “That was . . . amazing.”

Micah swallowed hard, all his senses screaming at him to take her outside, wrap her in his arms, and bury his fangs in her throat. To drink and drink, until he was sated with the taste of her.

Forcing what he hoped was an indulgent laugh, he said, “Holly, love, I think you've had too much to drink.”

“Who, me?”

“Yes, you.” He escorted her back to their booth, collected her purse, and guided her toward the exit.

Outside, he turned away from her and took several deep breaths. He wasn't like Saintcrow, who'd had centuries to learn to control his hunger. Sometimes the need to feed was overwhelming. It burned through his veins like liquid fire, the pain growing ever stronger and more excruciating until he surrendered to the relentless craving.