Easily he captured her hand within his much larger one. Warmth surrounded before invading her chilled flesh. Strong fingers, artist's fingers, encircled hers as he slowly raised her hand toward his mouth. "Enchanté." His breath teased the sensitized skin of her knuckles.
His lips were warm and dry, eliciting a shiver as his tongue touched the back of her hand. Carnal images crowded her mind as desire burned her like a wildfire. Before her eyes flashed images of this man in her bed, buried deep within her, burrowing into her very soul.
Val pulled away, his teeth shutting with a sharp click and Shai caught a glimpse of an emotion akin to shock racing across his face. Was he in pain?
"Are you okay?" she asked, startled when her voice came out husky.
He flashed her a picture perfect smile. "Better than I was before meeting you." He straightened smoothly, never releasing her hand. "Ladies, it has been a great pleasure seeing you, but I am afraid I have to run." He glanced down at Shai, his gaze capturing and holding hers easily. "Business does not await my personal pleasures." He gave her hand a gentle squeeze.
Vivian fairly purred her displeasure. "That's too bad, Val. It's been such a long time since we've seen each other. We're headed to the Pyramid after dinner. Maybe you can join us there?"
"Indeed, it has been a long time. If I can get away, it would be an honor to join you ladies this evening." His gaze never left Shai's as he raised her hand to his lips once again. "Until next we meet, little one." He kissed her hand a second time, his teeth brushing her skin before he released her. Turning, he headed toward the door, every woman's eye on him as he exited.
"Now that is a fantasy," Erihn announced into the silence.
"It seems our little Shai caught Val's eye," Jennifer commented.
"Lucky girl. I've been after him since he first appeared in New York about a year ago." Vivian's tone was sour. "Never even looked twice at me."
"I certainly wouldn't kick him out of bed," Melanie said.
"I wouldn't either," Shai, still feeling dazed, spoke through numb lips.
Vivian laughed, her pique apparently forgotten. "It's about damned time. A man to turn Shai's head. And what a man he is." She leaned closer to Shai. "Watch out, little one. Val is one of the sharks in the ocean of life," she paused. "Of course, that makes him all the more desirable." She raised her wineglass. "Here's to Shai and her deepest, darkest fantasies. Long may Val fill them...and a few other things."
"I don't..." Shai began, only to realize they were no longer listening to her. Shivers danced along her spine as she recalled his deep blue eyes and sinfully sexy mouth.
"Oh, what the hell... Here's to fantasies."
Chapter 2
Shai tumbled headfirst through her apartment door. Clinging to the doorknob, she skidded to a stop as her oversized purse banged into the coat tree, sending it crashing to the floor. She straightened and stared at it, her vision distorted as if she were underwater.
"Bummer."
Her voice sounded slurred and she giggled as she kicked the door shut with one foot. She started across the wood floor toward the darkness of her bedroom door. As she walked, she discarded her clothing in an uneven trail, marking her progress through the apartment. Her silk jacket landed on the arm of a chair, her purse a hill of soft leather in the middle of her living room. Next came her black skirt, a puddle of velvet in the hall.
As she neared the doorway, she noticed with alarm that the room was tilting. She reached out a hand to brace herself against the wall and keep herself upright.
"What the..." She glanced down at her feet. One high-heeled shoe was missing. She turned too fast only to send her head spinning and she staggered into the wall with a thud. "Oooof..." She squinted toward the hall, looking for the missing footwear. Her errant shoe lay tangled in her skirt.
"Too much effort." Turning, she stumbled through the door, losing her other shoe in the process. Her shirt slithered to the floor.
Her four-poster bed lay bathed in a pool of brilliant moonlight. The windows were wide open and a soft, humid breeze tugged at the heavy blue drapes. With a sigh of delight, Shai fell onto the bed, her body numb with drink and sensual intoxication. Her fingers curled into the crisp white sheets. Oh, how she loved her bed. It was the best bed in the world. Unbidden, an image of Val entered her mind. She groaned.
Val in her room.
In her bed.
In her.
She closed her eyes and grabbed a pillow to cradle it against her overheated body. Enough of that. Fantasies were one thing, but her reality was that a man like Val would never be interested in a boring, white-cotton woman like her.
She sighed into her pillow and scrunched her face deeper into the pristine cotton, willing her body to relax. Within seconds, she gave in to the demands too much alcohol had placed on her, and she fell asleep.
She looked like a whore.
The vampire settled on the windowsill, mere feet from the woman's sleeping form. A derisive smile curled his lips. Whore or not, she was even more exquisite than he'd ever imagined.
Thick red hair lay tumbled across her pillow in a river of curls. Dark lashes shadowed her cheeks, hiding eyes he knew were a brilliant green. A small, delicately shaped nose with a slight bump at the bridge as if it had been broken at one time. Her mouth was generous with a full lower lip and slightly thinner upper one. Her skin was the creamy delight of a redhead. Her throat was slender, marred only by a small scar at the base on the right side.
Perfection.
A black lace bra barely covered her breasts, full and round. He ached to touch them, to taste them. Her belly looked soft and inviting while her hips and upper thighs were covered by a silk half-slip. Naughty black nylons encased her thighs and lovely calves down to slender ankles and feet. A delicate gold ankle bracelet glittered in the moonlight.
He certainly appreciated her choice in underclothing. But he was surprised that a woman as conservative as Shai would dress like a seasoned harlot beneath her street clothes.
It would be so easy to kill her, he thought dispassionately. He knew exactly where to touch her slender throat and, in mere seconds, she'd be one of the dearly departed. Just another victim found dead in their bed in the city called New York.
He looked at his hands, his pale skin gleaming white in the moonlight. They didn't look like they were over nine hundred years old. Nine hundred years of murder, mayhem and blood. He stroked his chin. For Shai's sake, it would be more humane for her if he did kill her with his hands. Quick and efficient, no fuss no muss. No mortal would want to live through what he'd planned for her. But even when he'd been human, he hadn't been humane.
A mirthless smile curved his mouth.
Oh, how he wanted her. More now than the first time he'd laid eyes on her. Every year, the desire had grown stronger until he'd reached this breaking point. Sitting outside of her bedroom window watching her sleep, lusting after her yet unwilling to touch her.
Yet. Soon her time would come.
A faint, self-deprecating laugh escaped him.
She stirred in sleep, a frown marring the perfection of her face. As if she knew he was there, she turned her face and twisted her body away from his gaze as if to avoid him. The silk half-slip tightened, sliding up to reveal the tops of her stockings and the tiny black thong panties she wore.
The vampire's breath caught in his throat and a faint hiss of air escaped him. Her panties left nothing to the imagination. Moonlight gilded the perfection of her skin, the smooth slopes and tantalizing indentations.
Her backside was larger than considered fashionable by today's standards. But it was perfectly round and taut. He preferred his women to be shaped like women, not sticks with boobs. This beauty had something to hang onto, a backside that would fill his ample hands admirably.
He longed to slip in her window and grab her, pulling her against his raging erection. To bury himself in her softness until she cried. He pictured himself in bed with her, her body moving against him, h
er eyes sleepy with lust.
A growl escaped his throat.
With one last look at the sleeping woman, he turned away. Mortal women. They were the downfall of many a vampire. To meld with living flesh, breathing and crying out beneath him, on top of him, it didn't matter. It was an addiction and he was in serious need of a fix.
Weakness was weakness and it had to be either destroyed or appeased. He glanced back at her. It was rare that a mortal had reached him the way she did, the way she always had.
Just as her mother had many years before.
He bared his teeth. The moonlight seemed even more brilliant than it had been before. It was time to feed and feed he must. Clicking his jaw in frustration, the vampire caressed her one last time with his gaze. Moving with the near silence of one of the very old, he leapt from the window to the alley thirty feet below.
He landed with a gentle thud and straightened, checking to ensure his clothing was in perfect order before moving toward the mouth of the alley and the darkened streets beyond.
Shai's time would come, as would her companions. He knew that for a certainty. Unfortunately her friends were average, not exceptional like her. If they'd been exceptional, he might have spared them. The only possible exception was Jennifer. She could be a problem. But the rest of them would serve their purpose and serve it well.
First things first, though. There was a merry game to be played. The players in this drama were in place and act one had already commenced.
Laughter filled the night as the vampire faded into the shadows.
"So who's the woman?"
Val started, the forgotten book falling from his fingertips to land on the pine floor with a hollow thump. He looked up to see his unexpected visitor standing near the fireplace, a bemused expression on her face. "Miranda, what a lovely surprise. I didn't hear you pop in."
A silvery laugh echoed in the expanse of the library. "That's a new one." Miranda shed her black velvet cape and draped it over the back of the chair across from him. She stooped to rescue the leather-bound book from the floor. "Wuthering Heights," she read, carefully closing the cover. Her crimson fingernails gleamed in the subdued lighting as she stroked the priceless binding. "First edition, even. Dreaming of unrequited love, my friend?" A smile danced across her face as she perched on the arm of the opposite chair.
"Just enjoying a classic, my dear." Val rose from the chair to reclaim his book from her.
She didn't release it. "What's her name?"
"And why do you think a woman is on my mind?" he asked, careful to keep his tone light.
Her smile turned sad, almost disappointed. "And who knows you better than I? You can fool others, but you can never fool me."
He brushed his finger down her cold cheek. The first time he'd laid eyes on her, he'd thought Miranda was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen. Hair as black as night fell in thick luscious waves to her tiny waist. Skin the color of clotted cream, by contrast her lips were full and red. Deep blue eyes framed in sooty lashes stared, unflinching in their regard of him. Tall and built like a Rubenesque statue, she was perfection wrapped in a rich, black velvet dress. She was a woman many men would desire.
Miranda was his dark angel, his savior. She'd saved him from himself many times through the years they'd been friends and confidants. But he also knew she wanted more, much more than he could give. It pained him to hurt her so. When he'd met the red-haired angel last night, he'd known it was inevitable that someone would be hurt. Unfortunately, it would be Miranda.
"Never you, Miranda," he whispered.
She released her grip on the book; her gaze unwavering as she folded her hands in her lap like a prim spinster at an afternoon tea. "She's mortal?"
"Yes." His tone was resigned. Didn't she see that he didn't want to hurt her with this?
"Do you love her?"
Anger surged to life. How could he dare love any mortal woman? Their relationship would always be doomed to failure and loss. A vampire would always outlive a mortal, many lifetimes over. "How can I love her?" he bit out. "How can I love anyone?"
"The same way any of us can love." Her tone was soft, her voice musical, sensual. It was that voice which had pulled him back from the edge many times. He felt the lure of it even now.
"I've only met her once."
"She must be quite the woman to have captured your attention."
"It's only lust." He said the words, but they rang hollow to his ears.
"If you believe it's only lust, then you're a bigger fool than I ever knew you were." She looked down to pick at imaginary lint on her skirt. "You realize that mortals can be our downfall?"
"Yes."
She abandoned her task, raising her gaze to meet his. "Do you want to die that badly?" she whispered.
"No, not anymore. I have you to thank for that." He moved away from her and toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. "I don't know how to explain it." Burgundy velvet drapes were pulled back to reveal the clear, starry night. The shadows beyond the glass beckoned his soul and, for the first time in many years, he wanted to curse the night which enshrouded him.
"You don't have to explain, Val," Miranda spoke softly. "You owe me nothing."
"No, you're wrong," he said, his voice harsh. "I owe you everything." He turned to the beauty who stared at him with the face of love. Love that would ease the crushing loneliness of his life. Love he could never return. "Everything."
"You owe me nothing you will not give willingly." Her tone was pained as she rose from her perch. "I'll take nothing you do not offer of yourself." She picked up her cape and moved to stand before him, her cool fingers caressing his face as if committing it to memory. She dropped her hand as tears filled her eyes. "I take my leave of you with a heart filled with love for the boy you once were, and the man you've become."
She vanished, leaving the faint scent of jasmine and a delicate tingling on his skin. His heart heavy, Val turned, his eyes once again searching the darkness of a New York night. How had his life come to this?
* * *
Shameless
Book III: The Shadow Dwellers
by
J.C. Wilder
Copyright © 2000 Lisa Hamilton
Previously published by Dreams Unlimited.
Cover Art by Emily Black
Cover Art copyright © 2001
Published in Canada by LTDBooks, 200 North Service Road West, Unit 1, Suite 301, Oakville, ON L6M 2Y1 [www.ltdbooks.com]
All rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written consent of the publisher is an infringement of the copyright law.
National Library of Canada Cataloguing in Publication Data
Wilder, J. C., 1965-
Shameless [computer file]
ISBN 1-55316-078-9 (electronic) ISBN 1-55316-921-2 (REB 1100 1200)
I. Title.
PS3623.I45S44 2001 813.6 C2001-902070-8
Dedication
To John Duch - The gifts I have received in my life have been plentiful, thank you for reminding me.
Acknowledgements
My heartfelt thanks to my dear friend Dave for allowing me unlimited use of his home and for answering my many questions about life in Colorado. Dave - you mean more to me than you'll ever know. And to Joe - WOOF!
Carol and Julia - My partners in crime, I would still be wandering the halls of unfulfilled dreams if ya'll weren't constantly kicking me in the backside.
Rosemary - For your biting wit, most excellent conversations and undying encouragement - Thanks doll!
Lynne - Thanks for writing the perfect poem.
Jaycee - Thanks for reading this and not saying "You're NUTS!"
Buttons - We miss you.
Thanks to the Columbus Zoo for answering my questions about cougars.
Chapter 1
Boulder, Colorado
"You are such a liar!"
Erihn blinked at the intrusion of Vivian's strident tone. She looked up from the book in her lap in time to see Jennifer shake her dark head.
"Vivian, I am truly a fraud." Jennifer sighed dramatically, amusement lurking in the depths of her blue eyes.
Vivian snorted, "All those stories..." She waved a glittering, beringed hand in Erihn's direction. "I thought she was the fiction writer." She pointed at Jennifer. "You're the journalist and your stories should be based on fact."
"Was a journalist." Melanie raised her champagne glass in the air to signal the waitress. "She quit her job."
Vivian's perfectly shaped brow arched. "You did?"
Jennifer nodded. "About a month ago. I decided it was time for a change."
"Oh, what I would do for a life of leisure," Melanie sighed. "I'd never get out of bed, and I'd hire a fleet of men to attend to my every need."
"What would your husband say about that?" Vivian asked.
"Nothing complimentary, I'd wager," Melanie smirked.
"That's rich coming from Little Miss My-Last-Movie-Grossed-Seventy- Million," Jennifer shot back. "What do you do, work about four months out of the year?"
"I have to workout every day to keep this figure," Melanie protested. "It's hard work!"
"Yeah, with a personal trainer, masseuse, and a full entourage of assistants," Vivian teased. "You probably hire someone to sweat for you."
Melanie glared at Vivian. "You have a personal assistant."
"Well, it is so hard to keep straight all those lunch dates, cocktail parties and secret assignations." Jennifer winked at Erihn.
"I do more than just flit around to lunch dates and cocktail parties." Vivian scowled at Jennifer. "I do very important things with my life."
"Like your nails?" Melanie snickered.
"I think you're parasites, every last one of you." Erihn interjected with a grin. "I'm the only one here with a real job."
Wilder, J. C. - Shadow Dweller 2 Page 18
