by Roh Morgon
“Well, actually, I need to go home for a while. I have some business of my own to attend to on the mountain.” I stand and set the book on the table with the others.
He looks at me, his eyes dark and intense.
“Please be careful. I worry about you hunting up there alone.”
I laugh. “Nicolas, I’ve been hunting alone since day one of this life. I’ll be fine.”
As I start to walk past him, he reaches out and, catching my arm, pulls me to him. He pushes my hair back, stroking my temple with his thumb, and takes a deep breath.
“You have become . . . extremely important to me. I cannot bear the thought of something happening to you.” The look in his eyes, shaded in faint red, sends an electric pulse through me.
I reach up and touch his cheek, and wrap my arms tightly around him. He hugs me in return, then slowly releases me.
As I start to move away, he grabs my waist and pulls me to him again, rougher this time, and kisses me fiercely. His lips move to my jaw, and then to my throat, and his sharp teeth are against my skin. He stands there, my throat in his teeth, and growls, low and deep. And I wait, fire running through my veins, for what I don’t know, except that I know I want it.
We stand frozen for several moments, neither daring to move, until he slowly relaxes his jaw, then kisses my neck in parting. He gently lets me go and, with a long, searching look in his blazing scarlet eyes, steps away.
I swallow and take a deep breath. I’m not sure what just happened, but it’s significant.
Nicolas starts to say something, but seems unable to speak. He then closes his eyes and, shaking his head, walks to the door. I follow him and he holds the door open for me.
As I head upstairs to fetch my things from the bedroom, I hear him pause at the bottom of the staircase. He’s still waiting there when I return a moment later, and he walks me to the front door, hand on my back.
“I’m sorry I cannot accompany you. Please call me when you return from your hunt so that I know you are safe,” he says huskily.
“I will. And thank you for a wonderful day. I, uh . . .”
The thought of leaving him suddenly tightens my throat and a feeling of panic races through me.
I don’t want to go.
But it’s too late now, and I swallow back my anxiety and reluctantly allow Nicolas to usher me outside and down the stairs. His Jag is parked behind my car, and he walks me around it to my door.
“Thank you again for . . . everything.” I bravely smile at him as I get in.
“You are welcome. Good night. And please be careful.” He closes my door.
I start the engine and slowly move down the driveway. Nicolas follows me, the Jag parking lights glowing in my mirror. I speed up, as I realize he must be in a hurry. We pass through the gates, then he zips around me and is gone.
Driving home, I slowly become aware of the fact that I’m ravenous. I hunted both Sunday and Monday—this is only Friday, so I’m a bit puzzled. Maybe I burned through my stores of energy with all the physical activity of skiing, although that seems a little unlikely. I suspect it has more to do with all the emotional activity and the strain I feel sometimes when I’m with Nicolas. As much as I love to be with him, I think I also need some downtime to be by myself. Guess I’ve kind of gotten used to that over the years.
When I enter the house, my gaze is drawn to the bookcase that now dominates the living room. He certainly made sure I’d be aware of his presence, even if he physically can’t be with me. I shake my head and walk into the bedroom to change into hunting clothes.
The hot shower pummels me as I try in vain to wash off some of the edginess that accompanies my unsatisfied hunger. The small muley buck didn’t completely quell my cravings, but the eastern sky was beginning to lighten, and there was no time to hunt for another. I may have spoiled myself with elk.
After leaving a voice mail for Nicolas—he doesn’t answer when I call as promised—I slip into bed and lie there a while, thinking about how my life has changed. And it has, forever, because what part of me feared would happen—has happened.
I have fallen in love with Nicolas.
Desperately, hopelessly in love.
And I will never be the same again.
Wonder and joy that this could happen to me—to me—race through my body, sending shivers along every vein. But they’re quickly followed by fear—fear of losing my independence, of having to consider the needs of another, of changes I can’t anticipate.
Worse, I don’t even know if he loves me. I believe he cares for me, maybe even deeply, but for how long?
And what will he think of my need to visit California now and again, to check on my daughter and her family? Nicolas hasn’t been human for centuries. He likely won’t understand my need to keep in touch with my former human life, even if all I can do is watch.
My gut suddenly twists, and an icy chill runs up my spine. I can’t tell him about my family and their hold over me—not ever. He must never learn of their existence. I have no explanation, other than every instinct in me screaming in deadly warning.
Andrea . . .
As the rising sun drags me down into the black depths of unconsciousness, my chest aches with the knowledge that I must put her out of my mind once and for all, and that yet again my love for someone is tarnished by the burden of secrecy.
április 13., péntek
I took her skiing today. It was her first time, and she was stunning as she mastered the slopes. And she did so with grace and humor and a joy for life that I have not experienced for a very long time. But through her, I was able to do so, and I cannot wait to share more adventures with her.
Yet what I had hoped would be a pleasant day nearly ended in a nightmare. When I saw that accursed skier hit her, it felt as though my chest had ripped open. Her accident made me keenly aware of her vulnerability to injury, as she has yet to develop the damage-resistant physique of a mature Chosen. I realized just how easily I could lose her, and how limited I am in trying to keep her safe.
Now she has gone hunting on the mountain by herself. I should have gone with her. All I think of is how easily she could be speared with an antler, or have her head crushed by a hoof. But that fool Corey created another unacceptable problem at the club and had to be dealt with. He will not cause any more. It was unfortunate for him that he chose this night to lose control, when I was beside myself with worry for my love.
SATURDAY
CHAPTER 24
I roll out of bed, feeling emotionally drained and, unfortunately, hungry.
What’s the matter with me? Last night’s deer should’ve satisfied the damn hunger, but it doesn’t seem to have even put a dent in it.
And whatever sleep I had doesn’t feel like it was restful. Just what I need—a case of the grouchies. Hope Nicolas doesn’t return my call and find out what I’m like when I have a bad day. But then I’ll probably have a total breakdown if he doesn’t call at all.
Feeling crankier by the minute, I shuffle into the kitchen, turn on the burner to heat some water for tea, and start the laptop. I stare dejectedly at the club list I’d made when I first came to town. I’m definitely not in the mood to go job hunting today, but I can at least figure out what places to hit on Monday.
Didn’t pick up my paycheck yesterday like I’d planned. Maybe today would be a good day to do it. Bet they wouldn’t give me any crap. Of course, if they do, I just might find I like something better than elk. Hah. Not funny.
Picking up the cell phone from the table, I check it for missed calls and voice mails. Nothing. I pour my tea and glance at the clock—1:08 and no word from Nicolas. Great.
I wander over to the bookcase and read the titles and authors once again. I don’t dare take any books out. In my current mood I’d probably tear one in half just pulling it off the shelf.
The phone finally rings.
Thank God. I was getting more than a little annoyed at him.
“Hello,” I answer, tryin
g to keep the irritation out of my voice.
“Hello,” he says quietly. “How are you today?”
“Fine.” The lie leaks through.
“I see.” He pauses. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No, yes . . . I don’t know.” My throat tightens as I choke off an unbidden sob.
“Ah, Sunny. Unfortunately I cannot come up there right now, but would you like to come down here?”
And see you? And hold you? And never let you go?
“Yes,” I whisper. “I . . . I just need a moment to change clothes.”
“Good. I should be at the house by the time you arrive. I will see you there.” His quiet reassurance sends relief surging through me. I feel like I’m taking my first breath of the day.
“Okay, see you soon.”
The phone goes silent. I look at it, thinking.
Is he just now getting back from wherever he rushed off to last night? Where has he been? Was he with someone else? Is there someone else?
Oh, girl. Get real. You don’t own him. You hardly know him.
Feeling even more unsettled than before, I pour out my tea and go into the bedroom to get dressed.
I pull up to the black gates, but before I can push the call button, they open. I follow the driveway around and park behind the Jag in front of the stairs. I get out and look at the house, and a small part of me feels the fear again—the fear of the life that accompanies this house, the fear of its master, and the dark secrets they both hold.
But it’s too late to run. I can’t bear to be apart from him, and I sense that he feels the same about me. With a deep breath, I walk up the steps.
“Good afternoon, mademoiselle,” Marie says as she opens the door. “Mr. Ambrus asked if you could wait in the library.”
“Thank you, Marie.” I walk past her across the foyer and into the library. She closes the door behind me.
Arms crossed, I stroll over to the window and look out at the lawn and its topiary forest. Much of the snow from the big storm has melted, leaving patches of brown grass peeking out here and there.
The door opens and I turn as Nicolas walks in. His black hair still appears damp from his shower; his crisply pressed shirt, open at the collar with the sleeves rolled back, is neatly tucked into his slacks.
But it’s his strained expression that I notice the most, and my own problems fade into sudden concern for him.
Yet as he approaches, relief replaces the tension. His sea-green gaze locked onto me, he places his hands on my shoulders for a moment, then pulls me to him and takes me into his arms.
His evening and morning must have been much worse than mine. I hold him tighter, wanting to comfort him and tell him everything will be all right.
He slowly lets me go, touches my face, and takes a deep breath.
“Thank you for coming down. I, ah . . .” His voice fades.
I touch his lips with my fingers. “It’s okay. I’m here.”
He hugs me again, then releases me and steps away. He walks across the room, his hands clenched behind his back. He stops and turns to look at me.
“My life is very . . . complicated. I have many responsibilities that simply cannot be ignored until a more convenient time.” He takes a breath and starts pacing the room again.
“When I first felt the presence of a stranger in my city, without my permission, I was quite concerned. That this presence was able to move about during the day caused me even greater alarm. You see, only the older and more powerful among us are able to do this. But I did not sense an Elder. In fact, I did not sense anything I recognized.” His brow furrows.
“I located this uninvited visitor, and waited across the street, and then you stepped out of the shop. You. You with your pale skin, unearthly beauty, and bearing that could only belong to one of The Chosen. Yet there was something about you that was different, and I could not pin down what it was.
“I could tell from your reaction you were surprised to see me. I could only assume then that you were here covertly, hoping not to be discovered. I was determined to find out who you were, with whom you were aligned, and what business you had in my city.”
His city. I recall that day vividly—the shock I felt, the fear that I would be seen as an intruder. And I had been right.
“I made some calls, but none of my associates knew anything. I was quite frustrated, as I could tell you were no longer in the Springs and I was not sure how to track you down. But that evening, you came back and I traced your presence to a nightclub. You stayed inside the club, surrounded by humans, for what seemed to be an interminably long time. I searched and found your car and decided to wait.” He stops his pacing and stands just a few feet from me.
“Then you stepped out of the club and I watched you hesitate as you saw me. I expected you to run, which would have done you little good.” His head tilts and I swallow.
“But you did not run. You walked directly up to me, and I realized you had no idea who I was. Any Chosen would know me instantly, but you were clueless.”
I still am. Who are you, Nicolas?
“When we were sitting in the restaurant, I found your scent to be completely unreadable. I could not identify what lineage you were, and your blood had an unusual fragrance that puzzled me.” He slowly shakes his head. “You bore absolutely no trace of human blood. You did not feed on humans. I was intrigued as to what you did feed on, and imagined perhaps rabbits or other small game.”
He quickly suppresses a grimace, but not quickly enough.
I frown. My choice of diet does disgust him.
“Then I saw you in the forest, agile and swift and so totally alive. I watched you hunt, as a true predator does, seeking out and stalking your prey. But you came into your full glory when you magnificently took down that huge elk. I have never seen anything so impressive, so efficient, so beautiful.” His eyes, dark and smoky, are blossoming red. He reaches out and touches my cheek.
“It was when you went in for the kill, and the way you gave yourself over so completely to the embrace that marks our kind, that I realized I was in danger of falling in love with you,” he says quietly, his crimson eyes blazing. “And since then, I have.”
Everything in me stops.
“I will never forget that first kiss, the taste of you, thick with the blood of your prey.”
He steps closer, and carefully gathers me in his arms, and kisses me, deeply and slowly. He moves from my lips and begins kissing each part of my face, lingering on my jaw, then moving down to my throat. I tip my head back, and he holds me tighter, and his mouth begins tracing along my jugular. I feel his lips part, and his teeth brush my skin. He gently takes hold of my throat, and groans. His teeth are sharp, like needles, and I realize that what I feel are . . . fangs.
Part of me panics and wants to run, but the other part of me leans into him. He freezes and pulls back slightly, and I don’t understand, but I freeze as well. We stand there, barely breathing, until his grip softens, and he gently releases my throat. He moves his mouth to my hair, nuzzling it, and I feel such a wave of emotion I start to shake and cry my tearless cry.
He holds me tighter, stroking my hair and softly whispering reassurances. I finally regain control and grow still, as does he, and I lose all sense of time as we stand wrapped around one another.
He holds my hand as we walk among the forest of creatures standing guard over the estate. The day is overcast, the sun safely hidden behind grey clouds.
We haven’t said anything since we were in the library, since he told me he loved me.
“One of my greatest concerns for you is about the Choice that you did not have. I want you to know that you will always have a Choice here, but it is difficult for you to choose when you do not understand what it is that is being offered.
“I have reached a point where I can no longer shelter you from the complexities that make up The Chosen society. I have been neglectful of my duties to the others as of late, though I have most enjoyed the rea
son.” He raises my hand to his lips, his emerald eyes shining.
“I am hosting a small gathering tomorrow night, and I would like you to be there.” He looks at me expectantly.
I knew this was coming. He warned me. But I still have to fight down the rising anxiety.
“All right,” I whisper.
“To help you prepare, I have a close associate who will advise you as to our protocols. She will teach you how to properly interact with the others. It is important to listen carefully and do exactly as she says. Our communications have many nuances, and you need to understand the meanings behind the questions you may be asked.”
My anxiety blossoms into full-blown panic. I stop, frozen in place, the urge to run hammering up my spine.
“Ah . . . I’ve frightened you. Forgive me. You are so like the prey that you hunt, ever-vigilant and ready to flee.” Nicolas takes me into his arms and gently rests his chin on my head. “And it triggers the hunter in me, making me want to pursue you even more.”
“But,” he says, as he slowly lets me go, “you need to conquer your fears, the way you conquer the beasts in the forest. You are much stronger than you realize. You have abilities typically seen only in our Elders, and are unusual enough in your ways that the others will respect you.”
His words make sense, but it’s difficult to calm myself. I’ve been on the run too long.
But maybe I’m ready to stop.
“All right. I’ll try.” But my attempt to sound confident fails, even to my own ears.
“Well, that is a start. But I want you to know that if it becomes too difficult, too much of a strain, you are welcome to excuse yourself. And remember, you will not be alone. I will be there.” He strokes my hair, then taking my arm, turns, and we resume our walk through the garden.
And all I can think about is that tomorrow I’m meeting others like him. Like me. Or maybe not so like me.
Nicolas glances down at me and smiles.
