Falling into Darkness

by Shania Tyler

  Kelly Green, their junior friend, let out a giggle. She was a cute girl with springy blonde curls and big blue eyes that made her adorable.

  Amity looked around the room, making sure that no one had overheard Jenny before saying, “I have to know.”

  “No.” Jenny shook her blonde head and lowered her voice. “You don’t, because it’s crazy to think that the president of the school is a vampire.”

  Kelly nodded her agreeance and cleared her throat. “I agree. Crazy.” Then she turned to Jenny. “Is he really that hot?”

  Jenny leaned toward her and whispered, “Gorgeous.”

  Kelly swung back to Amity. “Lucky you.”

  Amity sighed in frustration and said, “Not lucky. He’s a vampire. Explain the marks on my inner thigh.” They were still sore. “And what I saw in my head.”

  Kelly tilted her head, causing her curls to fall, and said in a sweet voice, “We can’t explain the things in your head, hun. We don’t have degrees for that.”

  Jenny and Kelly laughed . . . and Amity, too, in spite of how serious she was.

  Jenny patted Amity’s hand. “Amity, we live in Lane Hall. Anything could have bitten you. In that jungle, an anaconda is more likely to have caused those marks than a freaking vampire!”

  Amity smiled. She’d told Jenny and Kelly the whole story about what happened, but hadn’t gotten carried away with the details, since she’d never been that comfortable sharing such intimate details with anyone, not even the details of her times with Garrien. However, a larger part of Amity admitted that she was keeping her mouth shut, because just speaking about it brought back the heat of the moment and the greater pain between her legs would bloom with desire.

  Ronan, for all she didn’t know about him, knew how to use to his mouth. She’d almost come just the other day by simply thinking about what he’d done to her. Now, when she thought about her and Heather’s old room, there weren’t so many tears involved. She had a fond memory she was sure she’d remember for a long time.

  “I have to know the truth,” Amity whispered back.

  Jenny leaned back in her chair, looking deflated, and shook her head. “You know, if I didn’t know you, I’d think you were crazy, right?”

  Amity smiled and stood.

  “What time will you be back?” Jenny asked.

  Amity shrugged as she picked up her tray. “Don’t know.”

  Jenny leaned forward, her eyes very genuine when she asked, “Do you want me to go with you? You should not be alone outside.”

  “Yes,” Kelly agreed. “I always carry my pepper spray.”

  Amity waved Jenny and Kelly off, though she loved her friends. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.” Mr. Scott would not be home. How did she know? Because she’d bribed the security guard that stood in front of the road to faculty housing. Apparently, Mr. Scott went out every night on foot and didn’t return until the guard’s shift was almost over the next morning. Amity wondered when he slept and if he slept at all. It was simply more evidence that he was a vampire.

  But how did he survive in the sun?

  She waved the question away, sure she’d figure it out later.

  Jenny continued to talk. “Amity, I know you think you run this school, but people are entitled to their secrets.”

  Amity scoffed. “I am not a control freak.”

  Jenny and Kelly gave her a look and Amity looked away.

  She was a bit of a control freak when it came to Morwen. It was her baby, passed down from generation to generation, and she’d be damned if she let a vampire run her school! Well . . . that was only half of the reason she wanted to find out the truth. The other part of her . . . the part that still grew warm at the thought of him, simply needed the truth.

  “Good luck,” Kelly said as she reached for her OJ.

  Jenny leaned forward and said, “Text me, like, every five minutes or I’ll go crazy.”

  Amity laughed. “Okay, Mom,” she said, and walked away.

  The air outside was cool with the loss of sunlight, but Amity, wearing black jeans and a thin black turtleneck, had dressed for the occasion. She skipped along a path that led to the cafeteria, sticking to the shadows and keeping clear of the main sidewalk and avoiding the streetlights.

  Twigs and leaves crunched underneath her black running shoes and she thought about what someone would say if they saw her now, skulking in the shadows. They’d probably think she was up to no good, but Amity had her cover story. She was heading to the Talking Bird Café, where they were having a poetry night and everyone knew poets wore black . . . well, some did anyway.

  But the Talking Bird was also just on the other side of the gate that led to faculty housing, so Amity planned to simply jump the fence.

  She started off for a run as her plan became more concrete with each step.

  She was doing this. She was going to sneak into Mr. Scott’s house.

  The run to the back gate of the school took about ten minutes and then she swiftly flowed into the crowd of other students that were heading to the Talking Bird. Some of her classmates recognized her and she easily blended into the conversation.

  The main road outside the back entrance of campus was like another world with popular fast food chains, gas stations, and various businesses for the community.

  When they got close to the building, the group offered Amity a seat at their table, but she told them she wanted to breathe for a bit outside and would join them later.

  Once they were gone, she slipped into the alley between the Talking Bird and a fan store and looked around. The seven-foot gate to the faculty housing stood before her and beyond it she saw the lovely rows of colonial-style brick buildings with their white columns and short balconies, many cast in light from the streetlamps overhead. Mr. Scott’s was located on the next block.

  She spotted a dumpster, climbed on top of it, using leverage from the black iron gate, and then swung herself over it and landed on her toes, keeping her knees bent for impact.

  Then she was off again and heading for the house she knew was owned by the president.

  It was not only the largest house on the next block, but one Amity had been invited to on occasion before Mr. Scott had moved it, so she knew it pretty well.

  Sticking once again to the shadows, she looked up at the three-story beautiful brick house with its pristinely white, wraparound upstairs balcony, but didn’t take the time to admire it for long. She had work to do.

  She snuck to the side of the house and looked into the windows. Not a single light glowed, which told her that no one was home. When she tested to see if the window would open, she almost jumped with glee to find it unlocked.

  Getting in was easy, but the search for clues was not. She started upstairs, sure that all personal items would be in the master bedroom, but upon entering the large space, she changed her mind.

  The king-sized four-poster bed sat against the far wall, made up with white pillows and a matching duvet. Twin nightstands sat on either side with twin lamps that glowed with a faint light after she turned the switch. Across from the bed was a long dresser in the same rich wood of the bed and another lamp. In the far corner, by the French doors, were two chairs and a small tea table, but as she looked around, she noticed there was not a single personal item in sight.

  There were no pictures, no clothes hanging on any of the chairs or on the floor, not even a few coins on the edge of the dresser. There was nothing. The room looked as though no one slept in it, much less lived in it. As she proceeded to open one drawer after the other, her suspicions grew.

  The dressers were empty.

  She went to the adjoining bathroom, admired the beige granite tops and the open shower concept, but saw no toothbrush and she was sure Mr. Scott used a toothbrush. His teeth were so white, he looked like a Colgate commercial.

  A flash of him with fangs and blood made her jump.

  Would vampires sleep in beds?

  “Of course not,” she whispered to herself. He’d
likely sleep in a coffin.

  She touched the cross that she’d placed underneath her turtleneck, making sure the silvered jewel was still in place. She hoped she wouldn’t need it, but had thought it smart to bring it just in case.

  She hurried from the room, running down the stairs, and quickly looked for another set that would lead to the basement. Upon finding one, she searched the entire floor for a coffin, but had no luck. She turned on a light in the office and was about to leave when something caught her eye. It was a black and white photo on the desk. As she walked over, her stomach turned.

  The picture on the desk was Heather. A chilling sensation went through her and Amity felt goose bumps cover her body. Why did Mr. Scott have Heather’s photo?

  He’d taken her.

  Maybe he was even obsessed with her.

  Amity groaned as her mind began to work with the possibilities. Was Heather the reason Amity had been the one to show Mr. Scott the school? Once they’d made it to Lane Hall, he’d run quickly ahead to Heather’s door . . . and then when they’d entered . . . .

  She gasped as she remembered the way he’d touched Heather’s things and felt sick when she thought of how he’d touched her. He’d asked her about Heather’s disappearance as though he hadn’t known the truth, but what if he was one of those serial killer sorts who liked to hear about their own accomplishments after the crime? She’d watched enough Law & Order: SVU to know it was possible.

  Was a photo enough evidence to call the police? Probably not. So, where was Heather? She looked around for anything that would point her in the right direction and found nothing. She then hurried back upstairs and searched the remaining bedrooms, but besides the usual human possessions, there was no coffin, or papers, or keys that could lead to another house or storage locker where she assumed he kept her body.

  Okay, perhaps she should cut back on the SVU marathons.

  She started to head downstairs, but froze as she heard the front door open in the distance and her eyes went wide. Her heart raced as she heard the heavy footsteps land one by one on the hardwood and then pull up to a stop.

  She took a quick breath and kept herself pressed against the wall, and asked herself if she’d left any lights on when she’d looked around. The house was so dark, she was sure she hadn’t, and when the footfalls continued and no light came on, she was sure she had her answer.

  Mr. Scott was a vampire.

  Who walked around their house without lights on?

  His feet moved past the stairs and she heard the shuffling of papers as he walked.

  She slowed her breathing down and then began to think about her next move.

  ACT THREE

  FALLING INTO DARKNESS

  CHAPTER

  NINE

  .

  .

  .

  .

  She should go home. It was too dangerous to be in the house with him . . . yet at the same time, she had to know for sure. Was he the living dead? Where did he sleep? Why was he at Morwen? Was he looking to take another girl?

  * * *

  She took in another breath as she thought of herself. Did he want her, too?

  She heard a door close and knew it was her time to move.

  She tiptoed down the stairs and headed toward the window she’d entered through. She placed her hands on the latch, but then paused.

  What if this was her only chance to find Heather? She had to find out where he kept all her personal belongings and hope it would lead her to her friend.

  She straightened and turned toward the office, finding just enough moonlight to show her the way. On the other side of the closed door, she heard movement and more papers moving . . . and then she heard a door open and she narrowed her eyes.

  There hadn’t been another door in the office when she’d checked.

  She reached for her crucifix, pulled it from her shirt, pushed the door open and switched on the light.

  No one was there, but there at the bookcase was an open secret passage.

  Amity headed for the opening, but then she jumped when she heard the door close behind her and the lights go out.

  A pair of hands grabbed her around the waist and the front of her body crashed into the table while a very masculine form took up the space behind her, pressing into her and allowing her to feel his arousal.

  His fingers slipped underneath her shirt and the moment their skin touched, Amity went off like a rocket. He made her feel so warm, causing her to break out in fever. “No,” she whispered, more to herself than him, feeling ashamed.

  “No?” His fingers and pelvis paused.

  Amity didn’t want him to stop, but the stillness allowed her to breathe even with the continued heat his nearness created. “Where’s Heather?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Are you lying?” Her voice broke.

  “I’m not lying, Amity. I was sent here to find her.”

  Sent here? She frowned. “Who are you?”

  “That’s not your real question.”

  She swallowed, wondering how he knew. Was he reading her mind?

  “Ask me.” he whispered, and his fingers began to move again, climbing up, leaving a trail of heat in their wake, until they were cupping her breasts through their lacy cups.

  She moaned and then moaned again when his fingers brushed her nipples. Shamelessly, she began to rock against him in encouragement. He yanked her shirt over her head and resumed his touching through her bra.

  “Ask me,” he pressed as he leaned farther into her.

  “What are you?” She let out a shaky breath.

  His licked his throat, and she clenched her pussy. “Guess.” His thumbs and forefingers pulled on her nipples, and the pleasure was almost enough to make her come right there.

  “Vampire.”

  “Yes.”

  She gasped and then she groaned when his fingers left her breast.

  His breath brushed her ear as he pressed forward again, rocking his erection against her. “You’re not supposed to be here, Amity. Breaking into one’s home is a crime, is it not?”

  “It is,” Amity whispered, since his voice had held a note of serious inquiry. She gripped the edge of the table as his hands moved over her sides and she hated her traitorous body as she felt moisture pool in her panties.

  His lips rubbed against the back of her neck and the tips of his fingers slipped into her pants. He continued his slow rocking as he asked, “What is the punishment for such things?” Again, the question seemed to be asked in true inquiry.

  Amity sucked in a breath as the painful tingling in her clitoris grew. The wood pressed into her palms as she tried to think. “Uh, prison.”

  He groaned. “You’re much too beautiful for such a fate.” His mouth was by her ear again. “How shall I punish you then?” His fingers moved past the waistband of both her pants and panties and touched her right where she wanted him.

  She threw her head back and then she felt herself being pushed farther onto the desk. Her cheek felt the coolness of the countertop, and she rested her palms against the wood. But nothing mattered except for what Mr. Scott was doing between her legs.

  He pushed a finger inside of her and Amity clinched it, not wanting it to leave.

  His other hand began to pull her clothes away, exposing her bottom to the room. Her pants pooled at her ankles and then his hand was rubbing her ass while his other continued to play between her legs.

  Amity was in heaven.

  She heard the smack right before the sting inflamed her rear.

  She gasped and then cried out as it came again. The spanking, combined with the increased speed of his fingers in her had her on the edge. She bit her lower lip as his large palm collided with her ass again and again, feeling the vibration right to her core and she shouted as she came.

  Her lungs burned as the air left them and her body trembled as it came down. Then Mr. Scott’s hands left her right before he flipped her over and placed her sore bottom on the de
sk. The coolness of the wood soothed it instantly.

  The room was still dark, but with her eyes fully adjusted, she could make him out in the dark.

  He’d removed his shirt and with the faint moonlight and her fingers, she made out the deep impression of his abs and long, strong arms.

  His hands slid down her thighs, and he dropped before her.

  She jumped, remembering the last time they’d done this. He’d bit her and it had hurt.

  His fingers rested on her knees and he said, “I won’t bite you again without your permission.”

  She thought that good, because she had no intention of going through that pain again.

  His hands moved down her legs and went to work on her shoes and pants, removing everything before standing back up.

  His hands went to his pants, and Amity stared in anticipation, but her vision was cut off when his mouth landed on hers. She was immediately swept into the kiss, but froze as the feel of his teeth. His canines were long, and she pictured them and his mouth covered in blood.

  Mr. Scott began to pull away, but she locked her fingers around his neck and brought him in again. She trusted him, but she moved more carefully with the kiss now. Their lips met and she felt him shiver when her tongue entered his mouth. She explored him just as his mouth had explored her body the previous week.

  She’d missed him.

  She missed the way he made her feel and how he seemed to bring her to life.

  She felt something nudge her opening and broke the kiss to look down.

  Her eyes widened. “Richard—”

  “Ronan,” he told her quickly. His voice shook as much as his body. “Richard isn’t my name. It’s Ronan.” He pressed farther and the head of his long erection pushed in.

  Amity threw her head back. “Ronan.”

  He pushed farther and then started a slow rock. His arms wrapped around her, and she felt his trembling come down. “Amity . . . I can barely control myself.”

  Her arms locked around him, holding him as he went deeper. “Don’t,” she whispered. “Give it to me.” She wanted him to love her exactly how he wished to. She felt his every ridge as he slipped in and out.