Red Night (Vampire Files Trilogy Book 1)

by RK Close

  “Hi,” I say, looking guilty and embarrassed. I pull my robe tighter as I stand there waiting for him to reply.

  “Samantha. You are sober tonight,” he states, watching me. I’m pretty sure it’s only a statement. I don’t think he’s trying to start something, but then again…

  “Yeah, about that. I’m sorry for what I said. You…obviously have a conscience, and you called it that night. I was…wrong. I don’t normally drink like that. It’s not an excuse, but I let the situation with Zac get under my skin and cloud my judgment.” I steal little glances his way. I can’t look at him directly.

  He stands there a while longer watching me as though he’s weighing the truth in my words. I hope he knows I’m sincere.

  “Apology accepted. Shall we get back to business, or are you planning to invite me into your bed to…kiss and make up?” he asks in his usual over-confidant, self-absorbed manner.

  Okay, I believe we’re back to normal.

  Chapter 16

  What an ass.

  “That ship has already sailed and you missed it. Drunk was the only way that scenario would ever happen, and I already signed up for AA.” I cross my arms and glare at him.

  There is almost the beginning of a smile before he walks to a chair and makes himself comfortable. There is no trace of a smile by the time he fixes me with a stare. Adam looks like a bored king, sitting on his throne waiting to hand down judgment.

  I’m pretty certain I’ve never met a man so full of himself.

  I sit in the opposite chair and mirror his body language, minus the man-spread. His are spread in a relaxed male fashion while mine are crossed so that I don’t flash him.

  “Gabe knows what you are, and I didn’t tell him,” I say, curious for his reaction. I’m still giving him a dirty look. This is much better. We are back to normal. Normal for us, anyway.

  “I know,” he says evenly. “Did he tell you what he is?”

  This piques my interest so I lean forward like a gossipy girl to hear the latest news on a hot guy. My eagerness seems to annoy Adam. He narrows his eyes at me.

  “What are you talking about? He’s a professor at the university.” I’m dying to hear what he has to say about Gabe.

  “That’s his day job. He hunts my kind.” Adam’s eyes have a little glow around the edges.

  I’m dumbfounded by his statement. He must be messing with me. Gabe is a mild-mannered, super-hot nerd type…with a magical pendent and vials of blood in his possession.

  “You must be joking. I’m pretty certain you have the wrong guy,” I say but my confidence is eroding quickly.

  I go into the kitchen to make myself something to drink. “I’m making some tea. Can I get you something?” I open the fridge to see what I have to offer him.

  “Since you’re offering…” he says from behind me. I stand up, turn, and squeak in one awkward jerking motion.

  Adam has me in an embrace faster than I can blink. He’s staring into my eyes, and his are blue flames. My hands push at his chest.

  Never a dull moment with this guy.

  “What the hell are you doing? I was offering you something to drink, not me!” I’m feeling warm and tingly, and wine has nothing to do with it this time.

  Distance! I need space between us, now. I push him with all I have, and he allows it by releasing his hold on me. There is now about twelve inches between us. I was hoping for more.

  “I only drink one thing, Samantha. If you offer me anything to drink, that’s it,” he says, standing there like maybe I’ll say okay. He’s out of his mind, if that’s what he’s thinking.

  “Well, I won’t make that mistake again. Jeez, I was trying to be polite, you big jerk,” I fume, and move around him to start my tea boiling. He remains close behind me, and I can’t help but shiver, knowing he’s there. Adam makes a noise that sounds like a laugh and slowly saunters back to his chair.

  “I told you I will never drink from you until you ask me to,” he says, wearing an amused look on his face.

  He’s watching me again, and it makes me nervous. Leaving the kettle to heat up on the stove, I prepare my cup with a tea bag and return to my seat.

  “I simply thought you were offering,” he says.

  “I already told you that will never happen. So…moving right along,” I say, raising my eyebrows in a smug way. “So back to Gabe.”

  “You might consider waiting to know someone before letting them stick their tongue in your mouth,” he says, the faint glow back in his eyes.

  Jealous? I doubt it. He’s the cat and I’m the mouse. I’m merely an amusement for him, but I didn’t realize he knew about that kiss. I think I’m blushing, which annoys the heck out of me.

  “Who I kiss is none of your business. How did you know that Gabe knew what you were, and why didn’t you say anything to me?”

  “It becomes my business when you seduce me moments later. I don’t care for seconds, Samantha.” He gives me a hard look.

  “Seconds? Oh, you are—”

  “And I always know who my enemy is. Besides, I could smell him in the building before I realized you were involved with him. As for telling you, I was curious to see if he would confide in you or continue with the lie. Are you planning to take him to your bed?” he asks, with a new edge in his voice.

  I’m thrown by his personal question, and I know my jaw is hanging open before I close it. Is there no limit to his forwardness?

  “What? No! I mean, it’s none of your business if I do. He’s a nice guy and I like him. That’s all you need to know,” I fume.

  He looks as though he’s struggling. I’m not sure what goes through his head. Do vampires think like a rational person? Or does their condition include schizophrenia? There is no way of knowing what I’m dealing with here. I’m in over my head.

  “I’ll make it my business when your lover wants to kill me. It becomes rather difficult to keep you alive and keep an eye out for your Hunter at the same time,” he says with barely concealed anger.

  He must hate Gabe, but why? I don’t think I should tell him that Gabe gave me some goodies for protection. This could be another problem.

  “Gabe is not my lover! I don’t have a lover! And stop talking about my sex life like it’s any concern of yours!” I jump as the whistle for the kettle starts to blow from the kitchen.

  I take a deep cleansing breath before rising to make my tea.

  “You want him. I could smell your desire when you came home. I considered killing him then, but you distracted me,” Adam says.

  I think the temperature in the room dropped a bit. I look at the patio doors before I remember that this happened when Adam and Zac faced off. I look back at Adam. He certainly looks serious when he discusses killing Gabe.

  “Don’t you dare kill anyone! You told me you weren’t a killer. You said that you hunt those that do.”

  “Hunters do not count—not entirely human. And I never said I wasn’t a killer. I simply stated that I do not need to kill.” He says this casually, as if commenting on the weather. Is he serious or merely trying to upset me? His moods change on a dime.

  “What do you mean by you “could smell my desire”? Are you trying to be weird?” I ask with growing concern. I know nothing about vampires, even as one sits in my living-room.

  “Just that. Vampires have a sharp sense of smell, taste, and hearing, as well as enhanced endurance, staying power…” he says, letting his words sink in.

  He watches my reaction. I won’t be baited. I’ve figured out some of his games, at least. I raise my eyebrows at him and sip my tea to show that I don’t care.

  “Just as I know you desire me even if your mind won’t admit it.”

  That bit of information is almost as awful as if he told me he could read my mind or that he has X-ray vision. I might hate vampires, all vampires—especially the one in front of me.

  Still, I try hard to show I’m not affected by his words. “I think you’re getting your smells mixed up. You’re con
fusing desire for disgust.” I go back to ignoring his comment.

  “What is a Hunter?” I ask.

  “You can ask your lover before I kill him,” he says casually.

  “Don’t hurt Gabe. If you do, I’ll stake you myself.”

  We both know my words are an empty threat.

  “And why did the temperature drop when you and Zac were facing off at the restaurant?”

  I know I didn’t imagine that.

  “I make no promises. If he stays out of my way, he might live,” he says before rising to look out the patio doors again. He ignores my question. “I am concerned that we have not heard from Zachariah. I believe he’s up to something.”

  “Maybe he left town. You said that he usually runs away when you get this close,” I say.

  “Something’s not right,” Adam says.

  “Do you have a cell phone? I don’t even know where you are when you’re not here. What if something comes up? How would I reach you?” I ask, sipping my tea.

  “Here is my number. I’m staying at the Hyatt, not far from here. Room number 351,” he says, handing me a piece of paper with a number written in a neat, precise hand. I almost laugh at the notion of a vampire with a cell phone. Smiling, I take the paper from him. He raises an eyebrow at me.

  “Are you sleeping on my sofa again?” I can’t stifle a yawn.

  And then I remember my latest dream. “Were you ever human…I mean, how did you become a vampire?” I’m feeling shy again, like I’m asking something rude and personal.

  I don’t know why—he certainly doesn’t seem to have the same hang ups about invading my personal boundaries.

  He looks at me, and I think I see a moment of unguarded pain flash across his face before the usual hard mask falls into place. Was it my question? Maybe nobody has ever asked him this before. Now I do feel guilty for asking.

  “It’s a long story. Another night perhaps,” he says, and looks back into the darkness. What is he thinking of, I wonder?

  “Were you ever married?” I ask before I can stop myself.

  My dream is running through my mind and I have to know. I study him closely.

  “Once, a long time ago,” he says without looking at me. “I won’t be needing your sofa tonight. I need to feed, but I’ll be close.”

  And without ever looking back at me, he’s gone. This time I do run to the balcony in time to see him look up at me from under the street light. We look at each other for a few moments then he turns and disappears into the shadows. I close and lock the doors, for all the good it does.

  I may have found Adam’s soft spot. He looked more vulnerable in that one moment than I thought him capable of. I’m even more convinced that the woman in my dream was his wife from long ago.

  How would I know that, and what is a Hunter, exactly? What else is out there that I don’t know about?

  Chapter 17

  It’s late in the day on Wednesday already. This week is flying by. I’m flipping radio stations in the car, on my way to a meeting with a new client.

  Gabe hasn’t returned from Europe yet, and I’m getting antsy not knowing what he is. I’ve been wearing the pendant most of the time. I don’t shower with it, and I don’t wear it in the gym, but I figure those are reasonably safe times to leave it off. It’s large enough that I am constantly aware that I have it on.

  Adam stayed on my sofa Tuesday evening, but didn’t seem to be in the mood to talk, so I worked on my laptop and read some of my novel before going to bed early. Normally I would have grilled him with questions, but I felt sort of bad about bringing up a topic that obviously still caused him some level of pain. His reprieve is over tonight. Under the circumstances, I can only be nice for so long.

  Tuesday turned out to be a busy day for me. I landed a new client named Robert Thornton. He believes his wife is having an affair, and wants me to prove it. I spent several hours researching him, checking his and his wife’s backgrounds, credit, and business information. Finding that he’s legitimate and has the means to pay my fees, I agreed to meet him tonight at the Phoenix Museum of Art at six.

  I usually choose public places to make the initial contact. I’m thrilled to have another job since business has been a little slow the last couple of months. I do have to pay my bills, and work has helped me keep my mind from obsessing on other things. It’s the little normal things in life that I’m starting to appreciate.

  On the way to my meeting I pick up some dry cleaning, return a book to the library, and have some large glossy prints made for one of my cases. When time permits, I try to order these prints online. The looks I get from the kids who run my prints in the copy store range from admirable from the guys and disgust from the girls.

  I also manage to place a call to Russell to check in.

  By the time I arrive at the museum it’s 5:50 p.m. I’m right on time. There’s a little time to view some of the exhibit before my client arrives.

  For this meeting, I’m dressed in a pencil skirt, fitted blouse, and a cropped jacket. I’m wearing simple cream-colored heels, and my hair is piled in a fashionable but loose bun on the top of my head. The outfit is pulled together with some black-rimmed smart glasses and a briefcase. I always try to dress in a fashion that gives my clients confidence in my abilities. My look says I’m from their circle, which usually goes a long way toward helping them feel comfortable discussing uncomfortable topics.

  I head in the direction of the Mysteries from Europe exhibit when I notice a curator roping off the exhibit.

  “Excuse me, but I’m meeting someone at this exhibit. I thought it was open until nine,” I say, pushing my glasses up on my nose and looking down at him.

  At five-foot-nine, without heels, I’m as tall as most men. Add heels, and I’m usually looking down at them. It took me all of high school and part of college to learn how to walk tall and own my height.

  “I apologize, but the exhibit has been reserved for a private viewing. We have several other wonderful exhibits that will be open until nine,” he says.

  “I still have ten more minutes.” I give him a pouty look.

  He steps back out of my way, and says, “Please hurry.”

  I give him a big smile and hustle into the exhibit. I meander through the rooms looking for any works that catch my interest. Museums are like ice cream for me. I could blow an entire day studying the art and history put on display in a single exhibit. It pains me that I can only breeze through this one.

  Stopping in front of a painting by an unknown artist, I start to get lost in the details as I tend to do. The painting is called Lady MacKenzie and Her Son. It’s a beautiful oil-on-canvas painting of a woman with dark hair wearing a lovely white dress, and a young boy dressed sharply for the day. It has a whimsical feel, and it’s dated 1750.

  I begin to wonder about the mother and child, and lose track of how long I’ve been standing there until a seductive voice from behind me says, “Hello, Sam.”

  I stagger and practically throw my briefcase—I’m that startled. Somehow I manage to catch myself before falling.

  My blood runs cold as I look into the brilliant blue eyes of Zachariah. He smiles at me like we’re old friends. I, on the other hand, am plastered against the wall trying to keep as much distance from him as possible.

  “I’m sorry. Did I startle you? My apologies,” he says, still smiling. A thin layer of perspiration has broken out over my entire body, and I start to shake.

  “I’m meeting someone. They’ll be here any minute, and the curator is waiting for me.” I’m inching along the wall, trying to avoid priceless paintings, but refusing to take my eyes off of Zac.

  “You haven’t figured it out yet, Sam? I’m meeting you here. I borrowed Mr. Thornton’s name to lure you here. I must say it was rather easy to do. I assumed you would bring Adam or your Hunter. I was simply testing your parameter of protection. Never in a million years did I expect you to show up alone, without your guard dogs.” He keeps the distance between us, but move
s as I move.

  He’s toying with me. He enjoys my fear—feeds off it.

  I hate his beautiful face!

  I imagine the pain and suffering he has caused countless others before me, and it makes me furious. I want to drive a stake right through his black heart, but by a stupid twist of fate I’m just another one of his victims. Nobody is coming to save me this time. Adam doesn’t even know where I am. Gabe is out of the country. I’m sure the curator has either been persuaded that I left already or he’s dead.

  I hope he’s not dead.

  “What do you want with me, Zac?” I ask, standing taller.

  I’m tired of feeding him my fear. If I’m going to die tonight, it’s not without a fight. He seems to take notice of my change in posture and demeanor.

  I glare at him with as much hate as I can imply. I reach down and take off my heels one by one. I toss the first, but hold on to the other. It’s particularly pointy.

  His eyes start to glow and his smile broadens. Not the result I was going for.

  We have both stopped moving along the wall. I’m almost to the corner, anyway.

  “What has Adam told you about me…himself…our past?” he asks as he sits on a bench.

  I know this will be over more quickly if I run.

  “Nothing. Only that he has been hunting you for a ridiculously long time. Why don’t you tell me, Zac?” I sit on the opposite bench, as far away as possible.

  Maybe if I keep him talking another opportunity will present itself.

  “I was wondering about that. He enjoys painting me in a bad light, I’m afraid. I’m sure he didn’t tell you that he stole my one true love from me,” he says, watching me.

  I can’t help but study his face. It’s hard to believe something so beautiful could be so evil.

  “He poisoned her mind against me, and married her to seal the deal.” His beautiful face is twisted in hate now, and I can see the murderous rage boiling under the surface.

  I think it’s too late to change the subject now.