Corin & Angelique (After the Fall of Night)

by Sherri Claytor

  “It’s incredible.” She opened her eyes and looked into his dark stare.

  “You see, I do understand your attraction to the night, probably better than anyone else could. She’s the queen of seduction—a true siren. Like you, I am just another of her many captives. But as tempting as it may be, you have to be careful right now.” He leaned toward her and inhaled, lingering several seconds. “Forgive me.”

  Stepping back, he released her hand.

  “There’s nothing to apologize for,” she was disappointed he’d pulled away, wishing he had kissed her.

  She had wanted him from the very first time she’d laid eyes on him a month earlier, recalling the evening. Night had just fallen when he came along, finding her trying to catch a stubborn mare that had slipped through the gate. She was a short distance past the farm on Old Denaud Road, attempting to coax the horse to her with a bucket of feed. Seeing her predicament, he’d stopped to help, and to her surprise, had the mare eating right out of his hand in a matter of minutes. Standing there with him now, she found herself in the same position as that lulled mare—ready to take whatever he had to give.

  * * * *

  Corin stood on the bank, struggling against his desire to take Angelique’s enticing, rosy mouth to his.

  “The night is a seductress, she puts her spell on us all,” he said.

  “You really are a night owl.”

  Corin allowed a slight laugh to escape. If she only knew how right on the mark she was.

  “I didn’t hear your car,” she mentioned. “The creek’s so loud.”

  “I could have been anyone. I’ll say it again, Angelique, you shouldn’t be wandering off alone.”

  He understood that he couldn’t pin down her free spirit—one of the many things he loved about her—but he had to open her eyes to the danger existing there. He couldn’t bear to lose her, especially not as food to a nocturnal hunter.

  “I love how you worry about me,” she twirled a long tendril of hair around her finger.

  Corin turned away, fighting his compulsion to take her in his arms and have his way with her, something he knew he shouldn’t do…could not do. Struggling against his animal urges, he’d managed to control his desires until she wrapped her arms around him from behind, sending a rage of heat through his loins.

  His restraint weakening, he turned and faced her. She was enticing as the night, a force whose pull he could not resist. Peering into her eyes, she initiated the first move, taking both of his hands in hers and stepping so near he felt the warmth of her skin. Her scent was arousing, her face so close to his jaw-line that her breath moistened his neck.

  Expelling a groan, he seized her slender waist and pulled her against him, unable to resist her pull any longer. Giving in to desire, he brushed his lips over the top of her sable head, silently cursing himself for his weakness. His hands traveled up her seductive body, stopping when he reached her face, where he placed two fingers under her chin and lifted her gaze to meet his. He saw her want, her need, pure hunger in the depths of her gaze, sending his blood surging—molten lava—through his veins.

  “We shouldn’t be—” he started to protest their actions, but Angelique hushed him.

  “It’s okay,” she whispered, as if knowing his struggle.

  He brushed his thumb over her lips and ran his mouth down the side of her face to her neck where he lingered for a moment.

  “Kiss me, Corin,” she whispered.

  Those three words were all it took. He sought her mouth, besotted by the pure rapture of their kiss. He’d never wanted anything more. The line was crossed and he didn’t want to revert. But in the midst of passion, he suddenly pulled back and let her go. He had to let her go.

  “I can’t do this.” He wanted nothing more than to satisfy his burning urges, but for her sake, he had to stop himself. “This shouldn’t be happening.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Your brother’s right. You deserve the best life has to offer,” he mumbled.

  “My brother? What is it with you and Tomes?”

  He could see her agitation. He’d lifted her to a heightened state of arousal, only to pull away.

  “We have an understanding…and a common interest,” he gave her a vague reply.

  “Why don’t you clarify for me whether you two are friends or enemies, because from where I’m standing, it’s impossible to determine.”

  “We are both, I guess…and neither.” By her reaction, Corin could tell his response had only infuriated her more.

  I’d have been better off saying nothing at all.

  “Friends who are enemies. That clears everything right up. And no one forced you to kiss me, Corin. But don’t worry, you’re off the hook. I just wish you could be truthful with me.”

  “You have no idea how much I wanted to kiss you, Angelique. I wish things were different…that Tomes wasn’t so disapproving.”

  “I think it might be best if we leave Tomes out of the equation, whatever that may be. If it were left up to him, I’d be single till the day I die. He’d be happy to see me an old maid.”

  “He’s just looking out for your best interests. He wants to make sure you’re safe and happy.” Corin defended Tomes’s intentions.

  “Yes, well, he needs to realize I’m not a child anymore. I’m an adult with all the needs and wants of a grown woman.”

  Angelique stepped closer to Corin and stroked his face with her fingertips.

  “You see that, don’t you? I wasn’t mistaken, was I?”

  Corin took her hand in his and placed a gentle kiss on the inside of her wrist. “No, you weren’t mistaken. But for your sake, let’s just slow it down a bit. We don’t have to move so fast.”

  Corin knew she had doubts, thinking maybe he didn’t share her interest. But she couldn’t have been further from the truth. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anyone before, but he had to control his wants and desires, for her sake. He just wished he could make her understand why it couldn’t happen…what was at stake. But telling her the truth was something he couldn’t do.

  “Are we still on for our walk tomorrow evening?” Angelique turned and moved along the bank, in the direction of the road.

  “I haven’t forgotten. But I was thinking, maybe you’d rather accompany me to the county fair instead. It’s in Black River Falls this week.”

  “You mean…like a date?”

  “Yes, it would be our first official date,” he smiled.

  “Don’t you need to check with Tomes first,” she needled. “Get his approval?”

  “Ouch. I deserve that. And we both know your brother would never give me his approval. But after tonight, I’m having second thoughts when it comes to him. I think you’re right, from now on let’s just leave him out of our relationship.”

  “Agreed. And the fair…I’d love to go.”

  Reaching the car, he opened the door and she climbed in.

  “What do you say I pick you up at nine thirty? It’s a little late, but the lights will be nice after dark.” he proposed.

  “At the farm? Tomes might be there.”

  “I can handle him. No worries.”

  “I’m sure you can. I’ll be ready.”

  Corin leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to her lips, disregarding all the boundaries he’d previously set for himself.

  “I’ll give you an escort home.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “I’m headed home as well, so being my neighbor, it’s the only neighborly thing to do.” Corin winced at the sound of his corny attempt at wit.

  Following her to the farm, he was glad to find Tomes’s truck parked in front of the house. Then tossing a wave, he drove on, plagued by the taste of her kiss, the sweet traces still lingering on his lips.

  Get you mind back on business.

  Failing to reach his earlier destination, he made tracks toward the cemetery, but stopped several miles up the road. Pulled to the curb, he stepped out of the car cur
sing himself for going too far with Angelique.

  What am I doing?

  He looked up at the moon, and released an anguished roar. The power of the midnight hour was strong. It took more to control his desire for her than it did to fight his craving for fresh blood—something he would die without.

  * * * *

  Corin laid his hands upon the earth, endeavoring to see Louisa’s attacker, but the image was clouded. Detecting another presence, he looked over the cemetery.

  Who is here?

  Finding no one around, he left and headed home, met by a cold, empty estate, settling in the stillness of the night.

  Pouring a glass of brandy, he stepped onto the lanai. He didn’t require food or drink, but there were certain things he enjoyed, and brandy was one of those indulgences.

  Looking over the back grounds at the woods lying beyond the wall, he contemplated taking flight, but decided against it. Something seemed out of sorts in the house, making him uneasy.

  Pushing off the vexing feeling, he went back inside and busied himself with finances and tidying up the main floor, biding his time till dawn. Finally, the blessed morning came, and he retreated to the basement, leaving Tomes a note on the outside door that he’d see him at dusk. With the plan set in motion of Angelique thinking her brother was working for him, Corin figured he’d be coming around.

  “Sometimes you do know what you’re talking about, Tomes. At least this time.” Corin slid a bolt lock into place, having taken Tomes’s advice and installed it, realizing with the main gate open, he was vulnerable while at rest. And with the door secured, he headed down and started undressing, pulling his wallet from his pants and laying it atop the dresser.

  “What?” His eyes widened, realizing something was missing.

  He growled and sniffed the air, catching the faint trace of an odor wafting about the room.

  No!

  Anger overtook him. The fiend had been in his home…stolen his things!

  With a vehement energy inspired by his craving to do nothing more than even the score, he cursed as he stormed the room.

  “You’ve gone too far. No one invades my home and gets away with it. No one!”

  He slammed his hand against the wall, creating a hairline crack that traced its way to the floor.

  Corin wondered how the newcomer had managed it. When a home had been occupied for a duration of three consecutive lunar cycles, a nightwalker couldn’t enter that residence without first being invited. This told him there could only be one explanation—he must have come into contact with this character at some point, but where? He thought back over the last several nights, pinning down the moment he’d encountered the demon, at a local establishment called Micky Joe’s Bar and Grill. Corin often frequented the bar, not so much for the drink, but for the atmosphere, feeling a camaraderie with the tortured souls attempting to drown their sorrows in liquor. He recalled sitting at a table, obscured in the back of the room, when a foreigner had approached him in a friendly manner and initiated conversation.

  “I was told you’re von Vadim.” The man spoke with a strong Turkish accent.

  “You were told right. What can I do for you?” Corin wondered who had pointed him out.

  “I heard you have a fine collection of classic cars. I’m a collector myself.”

  “Is that so?” Corin wasn’t too sure of the individual.

  “I might be willing to take a model or two off your hands if you’re interested in parting with any of your collection.”

  “I don’t know who you’ve been talking to, but I have no interest in selling…sorry.”

  “I completely understand. I would never part with any of my own. But you can’t blame a man for trying. I know the dedication it takes to restore those vehicles to their original glory, not to mention the time and money. In the process, they kind of become a part of you.”

  Corin took a sip of his drink, still trying to read the stranger. He had an odor attached to him that just didn’t fit—an odd, moldy stink that even a generous dousing of aftershave couldn’t mask. This was an odor Corin would typically have associated with the undead, but he sensed no other immortals in the room. And after listening to the man’s endless rambling about several cars he’d restored, Corin finally concluded the foreigner to be just what he claimed to be, merely a fellow enthusiast, albeit lacking hygiene, but harmless. And disregarding his initial reservations, Corin found himself engrossed by their conversation, a topic he knew a lot about.

  “I can’t believe you have a fully restored 1958 Lister,” the man was impressed. “I would really love to see it.”

  “I don’t drive it much. But I’d be glad to show it to you sometime.” Corin proceeded to invite him to von Vadim Estate to view the Lister, along with the rest of his collection that he referred to as his “pride and toys.”

  Corin drew his thoughts back to the present, slamming a hand down on the dresser. He had been played…duped.

  “So, that’s how you did it.”

  One brief invite was all the newcomer needed to gain access.

  You shielded yourself. How?

  Corin’s biggest challenge lay in not being able to sense the clever nightwalker. He could only imagine the degree of power the immortal possessed, enabling him to shield his presence from other nightwalkers in such a way. This left Corin wondering if he might be from an age-old clan, or even from an unknown race of immortals possessing powers far superior to his own. Nevertheless, learning the newcomer’s lineage or what powers he possessed would change nothing at this point. The fiend had now made this fight personal. Disadvantaged or not, Corin intended to see it through to the bitter end. But at present, there was nothing more he could do till sunset. So in his perturbed state, he proceeded to undress, climbed into the crypt, and slept within the comforting confines of the earth. His rest would not be peaceful, but it would be productive. He needed to be at his peak, mentally and physically, prepared for anything that the nightwalker might throw at him. This newcomer had deceived him, invaded his domain with cruel intent, and stolen from him.

  May the best nightwalker win.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Boldor Enescu

  Boldor Enescu had been walking the earth for nearly three hundred years. Although not the ancient Corin was, he was still well versed in his species. Holding an unfair advantage over other immortals, he had the ability to shield his presence, disguise what he was. He possessed this power by means of a charm he’d obtained through thievery. While using the name Karlot, he’d infiltrated the Order of the Clythguard—a special league of nightwalkers—with the aid of a partner associated with the society. Together, they’d devised a plan to gain the trust of the Order, all in a malicious scheme to steal the mystical relic right out from under their noses. It was a phenomenal feat, and to date, his proudest achievement.

  Boldor had made many enemies over his lifespan, human and otherwise, for it was his nature to cheat, steal, and kill. He even prided himself on his abhorrent talents and abilities. Chased out of his homeland of Turkey more than fifty years earlier, he fled to the lands of the Americas where he found a bountiful reservoir of fresh blood for the taking. Boldor could have sought refuge in any of several bordering countries, but he figured that in this new “land of opportunity” he could start over with his freedom intact, and more importantly, with his head remaining right where it needed to be—resting safe and secure on his shoulders.

  Boldor had never managed to acquire the worth and means Corin had built over the last several hundred years. Unlike von Vadim, he didn’t have the patience to wait for his wealth to accumulate over time, finding it easier to just take what he wanted rather than work for it. So he robbed and stole his fortunes, filching from unsuspecting prey, his wanton acts keeping him on the run. He had been considerably fortunate at various aspects of his life, but was never apt to hold onto his riches, always squandering the bounty away.

  Once upon a time, Boldor had even been an aristocrat, but when he
’d murdered a fellow Turk over a simple dispute, he’d been stripped of his title and thrown into prison. However, possessing abilities that enabled him to pull a convenient disappearing act, he’d escaped from his cell before dawn. And today, he was still running, only now it was from the tenacious Marshal Jordon Black. Unlike other lawmen before him, the marshal had a special talent for tracking, not allowing Boldor a moment of peace in the past two years. Staying ahead of Black wasn’t always easy, the man was a bulldog, and Boldor knew there was no way he would ever give up the chase.

  * * * *

  Where were you last night, Angel?” Tomes probed.

  “I was restless, so I took a drive.” Angelique offered no further details.

  “Well, I found your note and I’ve been waiting for this Louis Gomez fellow for over an hour. I don’t think he’s going to show.”

  “Oh, that’s right.” She spooned a teaspoon of sugar into her coffee. “Weird. He seemed so interested in hiring you.”

  “He must have changed his mind.”

  “Maybe, but he could have at least called.”

  “I wish he had. I’ve wasted time I could be putting to much better use. Where did you meet this guy, anyway?”

  “In the grocery store.”

  “Well, if I’m reading this situation right, I’d say this Louis Gomez fellow was probably more interested in obtaining your services than mine.”

  “Tomes, you’re such a child. And it wasn’t like that. We had a minor mishap. I accidentally ran my cart into his, which led to conversation—him telling me how he’d just purchased an older home and was looking to renovate. He was a complete gentleman. Honestly, I don’t know about you sometimes,” she groused.

  Tomes laughed and she loved hearing it.

  “But all jokes aside, I thought he’d be here.”

  “Well, it’s too bad he didn’t show. I was looking over the books this morning and our account’s running a little low.”

  “That’s an understatement. But I don’t want you pushing yourself. I told him it would be a couple of weeks before you could start. Till then, we’ll get by.”