Twilight Dreams (22 page)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Holly stared at the vampire who had abducted her. He could only be Leticia Braga's brother. There was no mistaking the strong family resemblance between the two. The same sharp features, the same pale blond hair. The same intense hatred in his eyes.

She tried to still her trembling, tried to keep her voice even as she asked, “What are you going to do with me?”

Fangs bared, he glared at her, a faint red glow visible in his close-set eyes. No one, seeing him for the first time, would ever mistake him for anything but what he was.

Holly lifted her head in hopes of staring him down. “Micah will kill you for this.”

“Micah?” His eyes narrowed. “Who the hell is Micah?”

“You'll find out soon enough!” she snapped, with far more bravado than she felt.

He snorted disdainfully. “Doesn't matter who he is. I'm just waiting for Saintcrow to come looking for you. We have a score to settle.”

His hand tightened around her waist, holding her in place as he lowered his head and buried his fangs in her throat.

“No!” She hissed the word through clenched teeth as pain splintered through her.
No, not now! Not like this!

He was drinking from her. Not sipping a few drops the way Micah did, but drinking with great slurping noises. She could feel the warmth of her blood dripping like rain down her neck. There was a peculiar buzzing in her ears followed by a sudden light-headed feeling.

She was dying.

She sagged in his arms as the strength went out of her legs.

Time lost all meaning. She felt lighter than air, as if she were floating away, no longer subject to gravity.

And then, somehow, Micah was there.

But he was too late, she thought dully. Eternally too late. It was her last conscious thought before she pitched headlong into a narrow black tunnel that spiraled down, down, into an endless black void.

* * *

Rage exploded through Micah as he watched the vampire toss Holly aside. Limp as a rag doll, she skidded across the ground and lay still. He stared at her, certain she was dead. He detected no heartbeat, no sign of life.

With a snarl, Micah launched himself at the man who had dared lay hands on the woman he loved.

The other vampire, older and stronger, fought silently, confident of his ability to emerge victorious. They traded blows, teeth and claws ripping and tearing. There were only a few ways to destroy a vampire, but a loss of blood could weaken them.

Micah was confident he had the upper hand until Braga got in a lucky blow that sent him reeling backward.

With a howl of triumph, Braga grabbed a long thin metal stake and drove it into Micah's chest, missing Micah's heart by inches, pinning him to the ground.

Weak with pain and blood loss, Micah waited for the killing blow, but it never came.

And then Saintcrow was there. “This is going to hurt like hell,” he said, and ripped the metal bar from his chest.

“Braga,” Micah gasped.

“He's gone.”

Struggling to his feet, Micah crawled toward Holly. She lay sprawled in the dirt, her hair and neck and clothing stained crimson with her own blood.

With a cry of denial, he cradled her in his arms. Her skin was fish-belly white, her lips turning blue, her skin already cold to the touch. Was he too late? He placed his fingertips to her throat, murmured a prayer of thanks when he felt the faint beat of a pulse. Concentrating, he heard the equally faint, thready beat of her heart.

Bending his head to her neck, he drank what little remained of her life's blood, felt it flow into him, healing the ragged wound in his chest. He took a deep breath, then bit into his wrist and held the bleeding wound to her lips. “Drink, Holly,” he coaxed, his voice tinged with desperation. “Drink, love, and stay with me forever.”

When she didn't respond, he stroked her throat. “Drink, dammit! Don't you dare leave me here in the dark, sunshine.”

Just when he feared he had arrived too late, that she lacked the strength or the will to save herself, she lapped at his blood. Then, gripping his wrist with both hands, she covered the wound with her mouth.

A moment later, she sagged in his arms.

“What's wrong?” Alarmed, Micah looked up at Saintcrow. “What happened?”

“It's perfectly natural. Nothing to worry about. She'll sleep the rest of the night, and when she wakes at sunset tomorrow, she'll be one of us.”

Cradling Holly to his chest, Micah rose to his feet and willed the two of them back to Shirley's house.

Inside, he laid Holly on the bed, removed her stained clothing, washed her from head to foot. After changing the sheets, he tucked her under the covers.

“I'm sorry it happened this way, sunshine,” he murmured, lightly stroking her cheek. “So damn sorry.”

She had wanted to be a vampire, he thought, watching her sleep.

Would she feel the same when she woke tomorrow night?

* * *

“Who was it?” Kadie asked. They were in the living room, sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace. Micah was looking after Holly in their bedroom. He hadn't left her side since they brought her home.

“I'm not a hundred percent sure, but from the glimpse I got, I'd say it had to be Leticia's brother.”

“Did you know she had a brother?”

“No.”

“Why did he run?”

“Who the hell knows? Maybe he knew he couldn't win and he lost his nerve. I'm pretty scary, you know.”

“Oh, yes, I know.” She shivered all over. “Why, I'm terrified just being in the same room with you.”

Saintcrow snorted. “Yeah, right.”

Kadie sighed. “So what do we do now? Do you think he'll come back? He knows where we are.”

“That's a worry for another day.”

“Do you think Holly will be okay?”

“She's Micah's worry, not mine.”

“Rylan! What a thing to say!”

“I don't want to talk about Braga or Holly or Micah, or anything else,” he said, drawing her into his arms.

“No?” she asked, batting her eyelashes at him. “What do you want to talk about?”

Flashing a wicked grin, he stretched out on the rug and drew her down beside him. “I don't want to talk at all, darlin,” he drawled, nibbling her earlobe. “I had other things in mind.”

Chapter Thirty

Leandro Braga paced the outskirts of Morgan Creek. His physical wounds had healed. But the blow to his ego remained open, like a raw wound in his chest. He had run from Saintcrow. The fact that the other vampire was ancient, stronger, did nothing to alleviate his anger or his shame.

He glared at the town. They were all there—Saintcrow and Micah and the women. Braga gnashed his teeth as his rage built inside him. He was strong, but even he couldn't go up against four vampires and hope to survive.

He would bide his time. Feed his hunger. He had consumed the woman's blood. When the time was ripe, he would follow the link between them. She would lead him to Micah. Micah would lead him to Saintcrow. They would all die, one by one. Saintcrow last of all.

“I will yet avenge you, my sister,” he vowed. “I swear it on your life and my own.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Holly woke feeling wonderful. Sitting up, she stretched her arms over her head, then frowned when she saw Micah standing at the foot of the bed, his expression guarded.

“What's the matter?” she asked. “Why am I naked? Why do you look so serious? Is something . . . ?” Her voice trailed off as she glanced around the room. It looked the same as always, yet the colors seemed brighter. She blinked as she realized she could see everything in the room clearly—the pictures on the wall, the furniture, each item on top of the dresser—even though the lights were off. That was odd, she thought. Odder still, she could detect every thread, every stitch, in the sheet pooled around her bare legs. Not only that, she could hear the low hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen.

She pressed a hand to her stomach. She was hungry. Ravenous. “Micah, say something. You're scaring me.”

And still he just stood there, watching her.

She frowned. And then felt her eyes widen. “That vampire. He fed on me. He drained me. . . .” She licked her lips and tasted blood. Micah's blood. “I drank from you.”

He nodded, his hooded gaze searching hers.

“Am I . . . ? I am, aren't I? I'm a vampire now.”

He nodded again.

Vampire. It was what she had wanted. Wasn't it? She searched her feelings as reality set in. She was no longer human, but a supernatural creature. She should have been more upset, she thought, but it was hard to be angry or resentful when she felt so good. When she was still alive . . . sort of. When it meant she could be with Micah for centuries instead of decades.

And then she frowned.

“Holly?”

“Darn, darn, darn!”

Micah lifted one brow. “Is that all you've got to say?”

Sighing, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. “You don't understand. I had it all planned out. I was going to get a manicure and a pedicure and then indulge in one last gigantic meal before you changed me, you know? Gorge on salty French fries and greasy bacon. Have chocolate fudge cake and buttermilk doughnuts for dessert and wash them down with a glass of ice-cold milk. Have one last cheeseburger and a hot fudge sundae smothered in whipped cream . . . and now I'm starving and I can't have any of it.”

“So, you're not mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad? I told you this was what I wanted. What happened to that horrible man who bit me?”

“He saw Saintcrow coming and he ran.”

“He was related to Leticia Braga, wasn't he?”

“Her brother, I'm guessing. They were both butt-ugly.”

“He'll come back, won't he?”

Micah shrugged, torn between the hope that he'd never see Braga again and the overwhelming desire to rip the bastard's heart from his chest.

“Well, if he shows up again, we'll fight him together.”

“Already spoiling for a fight, are you?” Micah asked, chuckling.

“Let's not talk about what happened. Not now.” She looked up at him, a smile teasing her lips. “Aren't you going to kiss me?”

With a shake of his head, Micah pulled her to her feet and into his arms. “You beat everything, you know that?”

“I'm still starving,” she reminded him, lifting her face for his kiss.

“You can't go out like that,” he muttered. “Put some clothes on and I'll take you hunting.”

“I'm not really hungry for food anymore,” Holly murmured, slipping her hands under his shirt, sliding her palms up and down his back.

“No?” He grinned at her, his dark eyes twinkling with merriment. “I'm not sure I want to bed a hungry fledgling. It could be hazardous to my health.”

Standing on tiptoe, she ran her tongue across his lower lip, then nipped it hard enough to draw blood. “It might be more hazardous if you don't.” She wiped the blood away with her fingertips, then licked it off.

“I'll take that chance.” He brushed a kiss across her lips. “Seriously, sunshine, you need to feed before we do anything else. Trust me.”

* * *

“What am I going to tell my parents?” Holly glanced at Micah. Earlier, she had showered and dressed, and now they were in a nearby town, searching for prey. It was a bit startling, how quickly she had accepted the idea of feeding on another human being.

Only she wasn't really human any longer. She was a vampire. She should have been shocked, alarmed, maybe. Even scared. Yet she was none of those things. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to be able to see and hear everything around her—and beyond—with such crystal clarity.

“No need to tell your folks anything if you don't want to,” he said.

“But they'll know something's wrong eventually. I mean, how many excuses can I make for missing family get-togethers that aren't held at night, and . . .” She laughed softly. “Look who I'm asking. You've been doing it for years. Did it ever get easier?”

“Not really. But you'll be surprised how inventive you can be when you have to.” He jerked his head toward a man walking ahead of them, alone. “No sense worrying about it now. I've spotted our prey. Are you ready?”

With some trepidation, she said, “I guess so.” But she couldn't help feeling a little apprehensive. Accepting her new preternatural vision and hearing abilities was one thing. But could she really drink some stranger's blood? “What do I do?”

“I'll show you. Nothing to it.”

She watched as Micah mesmerized the young man, then bit him lightly, just enough to draw blood.

The rich, coppery scent of it flooded Holly's senses and quickened her hunger. There was a slight pain as her fangs—her fangs!—ran out, but the pain was forgotten when she got her first taste of human blood. It was warm and salty and more satisfying than anything she had ever known. She might have drained the man dry if Micah hadn't warned her to stop.

Micah showed her how to seal the wounds in the man's neck, then he wiped the memory from the man's mind, and sent him on his way. “You see?” he said, smiling at her. “Nothing to it.”

Holly nodded, thinking about the way the vampires fed on one of her favorite TV shows. They always had blood dripping from their mouths and smeared over their faces. Was that how she looked? She had often wondered why they were so untidy.

“You okay, sunshine?”

“Is there blood all over my face?”

“What?”

She lifted her hands to her cheeks, relieved that there was nothing there.

“Holly?”

“I thought it would be repulsive.”

“Yeah?”

“But it wasn't.”

He looked at her askance.

“It's kind of troubling that it wasn't. That it was so easy.”

“That's because you're trying to look at it from a human point of view. You need to stop thinking like a mortal and let your vampire nature take over.”

“Is that what you did?”

“Not at first. I told you about Saintcrow. If not for him, I'd probably be some kind of mindless monster. But that's not going to happen to you, sunshine.”

“How can you be so sure I won't suddenly go off the deep end?”

“I had Saintcrow to keep me in line.” Drawing her into his arms, he brushed a kiss across her lips. “You've got me.”

“I love you.”

“I know. So, now that you've had dinner, so to speak, what do you say we go home and have our dessert in bed?”

* * *

I'm a vampire.
It was Holly's first conscious thought when she awoke the following night.

Vampire. Creature of the night. Undead. Nosferatu.

“Daughter of Dracula,” she murmured, and then laughed, because being a vampire was totally amazing, as was making love to Micah. It had been the most incredible experience of her life. He had been warm and tender, as if he'd been afraid of hurting her. And that had been fine, the first time. But the second time . . . she blushed at the memory. What had started in bed had ended in a tangle of arms and legs and blankets on the floor.

She bolted upright when the doorbell rang, then laughed self-consciously. It was only Saintcrow and Kadie come to call.

Holly frowned. How had she known that? Their scents, of course. Plus, she easily detected the slow, barely audible beating of vampire hearts.

Slipping out of bed, she quickly pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt; then, feeling suddenly shy at facing them as a new vampire, she paused.

In the living room, she heard Micah open the door and invite their guests inside.

Taking a deep breath, Holly walked down the narrow hallway into the living room.

A wry grin crossed Saintcrow's face when he saw her. “I guess we won't have to finish that bridge now.”

Muttering, “Be nice,” Kadie punched her husband on the arm, then hurried forward and clasped Holly's hands. “You look wonderful! Welcome to our world, fledgling.”

“Thank you.”

“I'm so glad you're one of us now!”

“Me, too,” Holly said, and meant it. She frowned as Micah, Kadie, and Saintcrow exchanged sly glances. “What's going on?”

“We were thinking we should go out and celebrate this awesome, once-in-a-lifetime occasion,” Saintcrow said. “Dancing,” he added with a flash of his fangs. “Dining.”

“Maybe Holly isn't ready to
dine
with us,” Kadie said, glancing at Holly. “And maybe she'd like to be alone with Micah.”

“They've got eternity to be alone,” Saintcrow said, dismissing Kadie's objection with a wave of his hand. “How about it, Holly? Are you ready to go hunting with the pros?”

“We don't have to go if you'd rather not,” Micah assured her.

“I am a little hungry,” Holly admitted. “So I'm game if you are.”

“It's game we're after,” Saintcrow said, with a wolfish grin. “Let's go!”

“Um, if you don't mind,” Holly said, gesturing at her jeans. “I think I'd like to change into something more appropriate for a night on the town.”

* * *

Holly's head was still reeling when they arrived at the destination Saintcrow had chosen as their hunting ground. Vampire or not, she mused, hurtling through time and space took some getting used to.

Luigi's turned out to be an intimate nightclub in Boston's Little Italy, located in the North End. The tables were covered with fine damask, matching cloth napkins, crystal vases filled with fresh flowers, and gleaming china and silverware. A three-piece band provided music for dancing.

Saintcrow guided them to a curved booth along the back wall, where he perused a drink menu, then ordered a bottle of wine.

Holly almost choked when she saw the price. “Two thousand dollars!” she exclaimed. “For a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon?”

“It's good stuff,” Saintcrow said with a shrug. “Besides, we're celebrating your transformation, remember? Now, look around. Do you see anything that appeals to you?”

“Any
thing
?” Holly repeated, emphasizing the last half of the word.

“My mistake,” Saintcrow said dryly. “Any
one
?”

Holly glanced around the room, her nostrils filling with the mingled scents of perfume and cologne, perspiration, and the myriad aromas of food and drink. But it was the smell of blood that overwhelmed her senses. Surprisingly, it didn't all smell the same.

Leaning close to her, Micah whispered, “Different types. They all taste and smell just a little different. You know what they say. Variety is the spice of life.”

“I like him,” she decided, gesturing at a tall, blond young man seated with three other men at a table across the room.

Saintcrow nodded. “Good choice, fledgling. One for each of us.”

The bottle of Cabernet was empty by the time the four men rose to leave.

Saintcrow paid the bill—in cash—and they left the club.

The four men stood outside near the curb, laughing and talking as they waited for the valet to bring their car around.

Holly watched, fascinated, as Saintcrow approached their intended prey. He spoke a word and, as one, the four men turned and followed him down the street and into a parking lot behind a large hotel.

The rest was all too easy.

* * *

That night, at home in bed, Holly burrowed deeper into Micah's arms. It had been fun hunting with Micah and Kadie and Saintcrow, she thought, and then grimaced, thinking “fun” was probably a poor choice of words. Still, she hadn't really hurt the young man she had chosen; she had taken less than he would have given if he'd been donating to the Red Cross.

“Happy?” Micah asked.

“Oh, yes.”

“No regrets, sunshine?”

“That's a silly question!” Exerting her newfound strength, she flipped him onto his back and straddled his hips. “Do I look unhappy?”

“Do you remember what you said?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You said if we were going to stay together, you wanted to get married.”

“Oh, that. Of course I remember.”

“So, are we? Going to stay together, I mean? Or have you changed your mind?”

“Of course not.” Her gaze searched his. “Have you?”

“No, but . . .”

“But?”

“Well, now that my family knows what I am, I was wondering . . .”

“If we could invite your family to the wedding.”

“Yeah.”

“Will they be able to tell that I'm . . .”

“A vampire now? No.”