Moonlight

by Amanda Ashley

  And what if he never calls?

  “Then he never calls!” The words hung in the air. How had she fallen for the man so fast? She hardly knew him, hardly knew anything about him. But the thought of never seeing him again sat like a lead weight in the pit of her stomach.

  “Damn you, Navarre, why don’t you call me? Please call me…”

  Muttering a very unladylike oath, she jumped to her feet. She wouldn’t chase after him anymore. It was Friday, and she was going out! She didn’t need Mr. V. Navarre.

  She glanced at the sign behind her desk, and read the words aloud: “A woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle.”

  With a nod, she picked up a stack of books and carried them out to the front of the store. She’d fill the “New in SciFi” section, and then close up early. So what if it was only four-thirty? That was one of the advantages of being the owner, she thought as she arranged the books. You could go home whenever you wanted.

  She grimaced as she heard the bell over the door ring, announcing a customer in the shop. Darn! So much for quitting early.

  Pasting a smile on her face, she turned around, her breath catching in her throat when she saw Navarre standing inside the door.

  His gaze reached out to her, probing, searching, and then he held out his arms. “Annie?”

  The ice around her heart melted at the sound of his voice. With a sigh, she flew to his arms like a bird to its nest.

  “Navarre, it’s been four days. I thought…” She bit the words off. She wouldn’t ask questions. He was here, and that was all that mattered.

  Arms locked tight around her waist, he rested his forehead against hers. “I’m no good for you, Annie,” he whispered. “Tell me to go away before it’s too late.”

  “No!”

  “I’m so afraid,” he said, his voice thick with anguish. “So afraid I’ll hurt you.”

  “You won’t.”

  Her words were like acid, eating at his heart. “You don’t know…”

  She lifted her hand to his mouth, stilling his words. “I missed you.”

  He groaned low in his throat. He shouldn’t have come here. He could hurt her in ways she couldn’t begin to imagine. The thought of what he was capable of sickened him, yet he lacked the willpower to stay away from her. He’d tried. Oh, how he’d tried, but her memory haunted his nights and tormented his days, until he could think of nothing but Annie—Annie, in his arms. The scent and the taste and the touch of her. Annie…

  “Just let me close up,” she said, squeezing his hand. “Then we can go to my place. I’ll fix dinner and we can watch a movie or something.”

  Helpless to resist, he watched her lock up the store.

  “Where did you park?” she asked.

  “I walked.” It had been wonderful, walking in the rain. Bundled up in a heavy jacket and a scarf, with the clouds hiding the sun, he had relished the opportunity to be outside, to tread the damp ground in the daylight, as if he were a mortal man.

  “We’ll take my car then,” Adrianna said, “and I’ll drive you home later.”

  She couldn’t stop looking at him, couldn’t stop touching him, assuring herself he was really there, in the car beside her. The day, which had seemed gloomy in spite of her love for the rain, suddenly seemed bright and filled with possibilities.

  “I love winter,” Adrianna remarked as she pulled into the driveway. “It’s my favorite time of the year.”

  Navarre nodded. “Mine, too.” A wonderful time of year, winter, he mused. The sun was less intense, the days were shorter, the nights longer.

  Adrianna switched off the engine, then smiled up at Navarre as he slid out of the car and came around to open her door. Hand in hand, they ran up the stairs to the porch.

  “What would you like for dinner?” Adrianna asked as she unlocked the door.

  Dinner! What did people eat these days? “I don’t care,” Navarre said with studied nonchalance. “Whatever you like.”

  “I was thinking of ordering in a pizza. I’ve got a good bottle of wine I’ve been saving for a special occasion.”

  “Pizza will be fine.”

  “Great!”

  He watched her go through the house, turning on lights, drawing the curtains. He glanced quickly around the living room, relaxing when he saw there were no mirrors in evidence.

  “Here, let me take your coat.”

  He shrugged out of the heavy jacket, removed the scarf, and handed them to her.

  “Make yourself at home,” she invited. “I’ll just go hang these wet things in the bathroom.”

  He was sitting on the sofa when she returned to the living room. “I called for the pizza,” she said, sitting down beside him. “I hope you like cheese with everything.”

  Navarre nodded, wondering just what “everything” included.

  “Should we have a fire?”

  “If you like.”

  She started to get up, but he put a restraining hand on her arm. “I’ll do it.”

  “Okay.”

  She loved to watch him. She had never known a man who moved the way he did, always in control, each movement seemingly light and without effort. He walked that way, too, hardly making a sound, as if his feet barely touched the ground.

  He knelt in front of the fireplace, deftly arranging the wood before striking a match. There was a quiet whoosh, followed by the crackle of flames, and then a warm glow filled the room.

  Adrianna smiled at him as he sat down beside her. “Cozy,” she remarked.

  Navarre nodded. There was something primitive about the sound of the rain combined with the heat of the flames. He could smell the wood and the fire and the rain.

  And the woman.

  Hunger rose up within her. A hunger that had nothing to do with food, and everything to do with Adrianna.

  He stared into the flames, feeling the hunger swell within him, feeling his desire flare to life, as hot as the fire blazing in the hearth.

  The sound of the doorbell came as a relief.

  Adrianna jumped up off the sofa and went to pay for the pizza.

  Minutes later, she had dished it up and poured two glasses of wine.

  “To us,” she said, lifting her glass in a toast.

  “To us,” he repeated.

  Adrianna sipped her wine. It was warm and smooth, but not near as intoxicating as Navarre’s gaze. His dark gray eyes seemed to glow as though lit from within, the heat reaching out to caress her skin. She blinked, startled by the force of his gaze, by the unshakable impression that he had touched her, that his hand had stroked her cheek even though she hadn’t seen him move.

  Navarre held her gaze a moment more, and then looked away, breaking the bond between them. How easily she succumbed to the force of the dark power he possessed! How easy it would be to steal into her heart and mind, to make her long for his touch. She had no weapons with which to fight him, no inkling of the monster who shared her table.

  The knowledge that he should not be there struck him with the force of a blow. She was a young, vibrant woman with her whole life ahead of her. He was not of her world, and he had no right to make himself a part of her life, no guarantee that he could be with her and not destroy her.

  Adrianna placed two slices of pizza on his plate. The smell of cooked meat and cheese and tomatoes sickened him.

  “Dig in,” Adrianna said, smiling at him. “Tony’s makes the best pizza in town.”

  He stared at his plate a moment. It would be so easy to bend her mind to his, to plant the illusion that he was eating while he disposed of the nauseating mess on his plate, but he couldn’t bring himself to play games with her mind, couldn’t bring himself to exert his power over her. If he was going to dwell in her world, then he would play by her rules.

  Lifting a slice of pizza, he took a bite. It was the first solid food he had consumed in almost two thousand years, and it took all his formidable self-control to chew and swallow.

  “How do you like it?” Adrianna asked.r />
  “It’s the best pizza I’ve ever had,” Navarre replied, thinking it was the first, and last, he would ever eat.

  They spoke of inconsequential things as they ate. He was relieved when the meal was over. He waited until Adrianna carried the dishes into the kitchen, and then he went into the bathroom, shut the door, and retched.

  When he returned to the front room, Adrianna was sitting on the sofa watching the local news.

  “It’s awful, isn’t it?” she said, gesturing at the television screen. “They found a lady huddling in an alley near one of the beach shacks last night. She’d lost a lot of blood, and she kept babbling about a monster who had bitten her neck, just like Dracula.”

  Navarre went suddenly still as he stared at the screen. He had never taken blood from anyone who lived in Moreno Bay. Always, he went to a neighboring town, choosing his victims with care, always making certain that he erased all memory of his presence from their minds.

  “Navarre? Are you okay?”

  “Yes, fine.”

  He slipped his arm around Adrianna’s shoulders and drew her close. Was it just a bizarre coincidence, or was there another vampire in Moreno Bay?

  Adrianna snuggled against him, then lifted her face to his. “Aren’t you…” She bit down on her lower lip to keep from asking him to kiss her.

  “What?”

  She stared up at him, mute, the wanting evident in the depths of her clear blue eyes.

  “Annie.” He pressed her head to his chest and held her tight, a sudden nameless fear knifing through him.

  He felt her hand caress his cheek, then slide down his neck to rest on his chest. “Don’t make me beg, Navarre,” she whispered.

  His arms tightened around her as he gazed out the window. It was still raining, a hard, steady rain. The sky was a cold, leaden gray. He stroked Adrianna’s hair while his mind probed the darkness, but he had no sense of another vampire in the area. And yet, that, in itself, proved nothing. There were vampires older than he who could shield their presence from his mind. He tried to tell himself the woman had been the victim of some drug-crazed maniac, but he knew, deep inside, that he was no longer the only vampire in Moreno Bay.

  Adrianna moved restlessly in his embrace, the warmth of her body pressing against his, her nearness, her heat, chasing every other thought from his mind.

  With a low groan, he slanted his mouth over hers and kissed her, and at that moment, there was nothing else in all the world but the woman in his arms, her lips parted in gentle surrender, her hands moving over his chest and back, kneading the muscles in his arms. Her hands were warm against his skin and he luxuriated in her touch, basking in the sensations that rippled through him. So long, he thought, so long since he had allowed the touch of a human hand.

  He stretched out on the sofa and drew her close, molding her body to his, marveling anew at how well they fit together. He rained kisses on her brow, her cheeks, the tip of her nose, before he claimed her lips again. Sweet, he mused, so sweet. She moaned softly as she pressed herself against his arousal. Desire shot through him, hotter than any flame, and he knew he had to let her go, now, before it was too late.

  And even as the thought crossed his mind, he felt his body’s response, felt the sharp prick of his fangs against his tongue as the urge to make love to her warred with the need to sink his teeth into her throat and drain her of life.

  The scent of her desire mingled with the scent of her blood. With a low groan, he began to kiss her neck, his tongue lingering over the pulse that throbbed there. He had fed before he came to her, and yet the need to drink from her, to taste her, spiraled through him.

  Caught up in the wonder of his touch, Adrianna made a soft sound in the back of her throat as she turned her head, exposing her throat to his hungry gaze as she writhed against him.

  She gasped with mingled pleasure and pain as she felt his teeth scrape against the tender flesh of her neck.

  Navarre froze, the awareness of what he’d almost done chilling him to the depths of his soul. Never, in all the years since Shaylyn had forced the Dark Gift upon him, had he stooped to taking the blood of one so young, so innocent.

  “Navarre?” She called his name, her voice was drugged with passion.

  Abruptly, he sat up and buried his face in his hands. He could feel the hunger raging through him, knew his eyes betrayed the same unholy lust he had often seen in Shaylyn’s. He ran his tongue over his fangs, sickened to think of what he had almost done. He’d been a fool to come here, a fool to think he could be near her and not want her. All these years, he had congratulated himself on his ability to control the hunger. Only now did he realize he had been kidding himself, that he hadn’t controlled it at all. It hadn’t been the hunger that was controlled, but himself. He had refused to put himself in any situation that might get out of hand. He had kept his distance from mortals, never letting himself care too deeply, never letting himself get close for fear he wouldn’t be able to take a woman’s love without taking her very life, as well.

  “Navarre?”

  He felt her stir beside him, felt her hand stroke his back. “Is something wrong?”

  “Annie, go to your room and lock the door.”

  “What?”

  “Please, just do it.”

  “I don’t understand. What’s wrong?”

  “Do it!”

  His voice echoed of the walls like the crack of doom. Frightened, she jumped off the sofa and ran down the hall. He heard the sound of her door slam shut, the harsh rasp of the lock falling into place.

  In the next instant, he was out the front door, running down the rain-slick sidewalk.

  Foolish man, he thought as he darted across the street. Try as you might, you can’t outrun what you are.

  Chapter Eight

  Adrianna cowered against the door, her heart pounding, her breath coming in ragged gasps. What had happened out there? One minute Navarre had been kissing her until she was drowning in ecstasy, and the next he was ordering her to her room as if she were a naughty child.

  For a moment, she held her breath, her ears straining for some sound from the other room. Nothing. Adrenaline pumping, she began to pace the floor. Never in all her life had she heard a voice like that, felt such menace. Try as she might, she could find no explanation for his peculiar behavior and as the minutes ticked by, she began to wonder if she hadn’t overreacted, or perhaps imagined the whole thing.

  She glanced at the clock on her bedside table. Twenty minutes had passed.

  On silent feet, she crossed the room, turned the lock, and opened the door. “Navarre?”

  He didn’t answer, but his name seemed to hover in the air, repeating itself over and over again. Navarre, Navarre, Navarre…

  She took a cautious step down the hallway, her heart beating triple time as she paused to listen, but all she heard was the pounding of her own heart, and the steady drip of the rain.

  Her throat was dry, her palms damp, when she reached the doorway to the living room. “Navarre?”

  She glanced around the room, then checked the kitchen and the den. He was gone.

  The breath she’d been holding escaped in a long sigh. She didn’t know if it was disappointment, or relief.

  She moved through the house, double-checking to make sure all the doors and windows were locked, wondering at her sudden compulsion to check them yet a third time. Moreno Bay was a small town. Nothing ever happened here. There was no crime to speak of. The last offense of any note had occurred when Milt Evans got drunk and drove his pickup through the front window of Mavis Harper’s dress shop, she thought. And then she remembered the lady on the news. The one who had babbled about Dracula.

  As she drew the shade over the kitchen window, Adrianna couldn’t shake off the feeling that something evil was lurking outside in the shadows.

  * * * * *

  Navarre stood on the balcony of Cliff House, his hands clenched at his sides, his face turned up to the sky. He closed his eyes as the cold
rain pelted his face and chest.

  For the first time in years, he wished he had the right to pray, to plead with a loving God to protect Adrianna, to keep her safe. From himself.

  He should leave here, he thought, leave tonight while the memory of what he had almost done was still fresh in his mind. But all he could think of was how good it had been to hold her in his arms, the way her hands had felt as they caressed him. For the first time in centuries he had felt loved, cared for. For one brief moment, he had dared to hope that he could spend time with her without destroying her.

  But he couldn’t leave town now, not until he learned who, or what, had attacked the woman in the alley.

  He stood there until dawn, oblivious to the cold and the rain, his thoughts turned inward. Eons ago he had resigned himself to what he was. He had learned to appreciate his supernatural powers, to enjoy the increased physical strength, the constant good health. He didn’t age. He was never sick. He had traveled the world time and time again. And when he grew weary of living, when the loneliness grew too great, he had only to go to ground for a decade or a century, and when he surfaced, the world was new again, fresh again. Perhaps he should go to ground now and sleep away the years of her life.

  Heedless of the passing hours, he stood there, gazing in the direction of Adrianna’s house, picturing her asleep in the bed that had once been his, imagining a lifestyle he had never known.

  The rain stopped with the coming of the dawn, and still he stood on the balcony, staring at the rainbow that stretched across the sky. He watched the sun rise, a brilliant burst of color that painted the horizon with vivid slashes of ocher and crimson.

  With a sigh, he turned away and went into the house. Feeling drained of all hope, he changed into a pair of jeans and a black turtleneck sweater. Barefoot, he wandered through the house. He took a deep breath, and the faint floral scent of Adrianna’s perfume filled his nostrils. Adrianna…

  And even as her image rose in his mind, he sensed her presence, heard her knock at the door.

  He swore under his breath, wondering what madness had brought her here. Had she no sense of self-preservation?