At Twilight

by Maggie Shayne

  Eric, many young ones over the centuries have had a vampire as a

  guardian and never even known it. After all, we don’t go to them to

  harm, or transform, or even make contact. Only to watch over, and

  protect.”

  Eric’s shoulders slumped forward, so great was his relief.

  He shook his head once and resumed his story.

  “I woke one night to sense her spirit fading. She was slipping away so

  steadily I was barely able to get to her in time.”

  The same pain he’d felt then swept over him now, and his voice went

  lower.

  “I found her in hospital, her tiny face whiter than the sheets tucked

  around her. Her lips… they were blue. I overheard a doctor telling

  her parents that she’d lost too much blood to survive, and that her

  type was so rare no donors had been located. He told them to prepare

  themselves.

  She was dying, Roland.

  ” Roland swore softly.

  “So you see my dilemma. A child I’d come to love lay dying, and I knew

  I alone had the power to save her.”

  “You didn’t transform her! Not a small child, Eric.

  She’d be better dead than to exist as we must.

  Her young mind could never grasp”— ” I didn’t transform her.

  I probably couldn’t if I’d tried.

  She hadn’t enough blood left to mingle with mine.

  I saw another option, though.

  I simply opened my vein and—” “She drank from you?”

  Eric closed his eyes.

  “As if she were dying of thirst.

  I suppose, in a manner, she was.

  Her vitality began to return at once.

  I was ecstatic.

  ” “You had right to be.”

  Roland grinned now.

  “You saved the child. I’ve never heard of anything like this happening

  before, Eric, but apparently, it worked.”

  He paused, regarding Eric intensely.

  “It did work, did it not?

  The child lives?

  ” Eric nodded.

  “Before I left her bedside, Roland, she opened her eyes and looked at

  me, and I swear to you, I felt her probing my mind. When I turned to

  go she gripped my hand in her doll-sized one and she whispered my

  name.

  “Eric,” she said.

  “Don’t go just yet.

  Don’t leave me.

  ’” ” My God.

  ” Roland sank back onto the set tee, blinking as if he were

  thunderstruck.

  “Did you stay?” ” I couldn’t refuse her.

  I stayed the night at her bedside, though I had to hide on the window

  ledge every time someone entered the room.

  When they discovered the improvement in her, the place was a madhouse

  for a time.

  But they soon saw that she would be fine, and decided to let the poor

  child rest.

  ” “And then?”

  Eric smiled softly.

  “I held her on my lap. She stayed awake, though she needed to rest,

  and insisted I invent story upon story to tell her. She made me sing

  to her, Roland.

  I’d never sung to anyone in my existence.

  Yet the whole time she was inside my mind, reading my every thought.

  I couldn’t believe the strength of the connection between us.

  It was stronger even than the one between you and me.

  ” Roland nodded.

  “Our blood only mixed. Yours was nearly pure in her small body. It’s

  no wonder… What happened?”

  “Toward dawn she fell asleep, and I left her. I felt it would only

  confuse the sweet child to have contact with one of us. I took myself

  as far away as I could, severed all contact with her. I refused even

  to think of seeing her again, until now. I thought the mental bond

  would weaken with time and distance. But it hasn’t. I’ve only been

  back in the western hemisphere a few months, and she calls to me every

  night. Something happened to her parents after I’d left her, Roland. I

  don’t know what, but she ended up in the custody of Daniel St.

  Claire.”

  “He’s DPI!”

  Roland shot to his feet, stunned.

  “So is she,” Eric muttered, dropping his forehead into his hand.

  “You cannot go to her, Eric. You mustn’t trust her, it could be your

  end.”

  “I don’t trust her. As for going to her…! have no choice about

  that.”

  Even while Tamara was arguing with Daniel and Curtis, he’d been on her

  mind.

  All day she had been unable to get that mysterious stranger—who didn’t

  seem a stranger at all—out of her thoughts.

  She’d only managed to cram him far to the back, to allow herself to

  concentrate on her work.

  Now that she was home, in the secure haven of her room, and now that

  she’d wakened from her after-work nap, she felt refreshed, energized

  and free to turn last night’s adventure over in her mind.

  She paused and frowned.

  Since when did she wake refreshed?

  She usually woke trembling, breathless and afraid.

  Why was tonight different?

  She glanced out at the snow spotted sky, and realized it was fully

  dark.

  She normally woke from her nightmare just at dusk.

  She struggled to remember.

  It seemed to her she had had the dream—or she’d begun to.

  She remembered the forest and the mists, the brambles and darkness.

  She remembered calling that elusive name.

  And hearing an answer.

  Yes.

  From very far away she’d heard an answer; a calm, deep voice, full of

  comfort and strength, had promised to come to her.

  He’d told her to rest.

  She’d felt uncertain, until the music came.

  Soft strains she thought to be Mozart—something from Elvira

  Madigan—soothed her taut nerves.

  She allowed a small smile.

  Maybe she was getting past this thing, whatever it was.

  The smile died when she wondered if that was true, or whether she was

  only exchanging one problem for another.

  The man from the ice rink filled her mind again.

  Marquand—the one Daniel insisted was a vampire.

  He’d kissed her and, much as she hated to admit it, she’d responded to

  that kiss with every cell in her body.

  She rose slowly from her bed and tightened the single sash that held

  the red satin robe around her.

  She leaned over her dressing table and examined the bruised skin of her

  neck in the mirror.

  Her fingers touched the spot.

  She recalled the odd, swooning sensation she’d experienced when he’d

  sucked the skin between his teeth, and wondered at it.

  Lack of sleep, and too much stress.

  But he knew my name.

  Simple enough to answer that one.

  He’d done a little research on the man who’d been harassing him.

  Daniel was her legal guardian.

  It was a matter of public record.

  Then why did he seem so surprised when I told him that?

  Good acting.

  He must have known.

  He just assumed I’d be the easiest, most effective way to get his point

  across.

  She frowned at her reflection, not liking the look of disappointment

  she sa
w there.

  She tried to erase it.

  “He only wanted to scare Daniel into laying off, so he followed me to

  the rink for that little performance. Imagine him going so far as to

  actually…”

  She pressed her palm to the mark on her throat, and turned from the

  mirror.

  She’d failed to convince herself that was all there had been to it.

  So many things about the man defied explanation.

  Why did he seem so familiar to her?

  How had he made her feel as if he were reading her thoughts?

  What about the way she’d seemed to hear what he said, when he hadn’t

  even spoken?

  And what about this.

  this longing.

  Blood flooded her cheeks and a fist poked into her stomach.

  Desire.

  She recognized the feeling for what it was.

  Foolish though it was, Tamara was lusting after a man she didn’t

  know—a man she felt as if she’d known forever.

  She had to admit, at least to herself, that the man they called

  Marquand stirred reactions in her as no other man ever had.

  As she stood she slowly became aware of a peculiar lightheaded ness

  stealing over her.

  Not dizziness, but rather a floating sensation, though her bare feet

  still connected her to the floor.

  A warm whirlwind stirred around her ankles, twisting up her legs,

  swishing the hem of the robe so the satin brushed over her calves.

  She blinked slowly, pressing her palm to her forehead, waiting for the

  feeling to pass.

  The French doors blew open all at once, as if from a great gust, and

  the wind that surged through felt warm, heady.

  It smelled faintly of bay rum.

  Impossible.

  It’s twenty degrees out there.

  Yet it lingered; the warmth and the scent.

  She felt a pull—a mental magnet she was powerless to resist.

  She faced the heated blast, even as it picked up force.

  The scarlet satin sailed behind her.

  It twisted around her legs like a twining serpent.

  Like the mist in my dream.

  Her hair billowed around her face.

  The robe’s sash snapped against her thighs.

  She moved toward the doors even as she told herself not to.

  She resisted, but the pull was stronger than her own will.

  Her feet scuffed over the soft carpet, then scraped over the cold, wet

  wood floor of the balcony.

  The whirlwind surrounded her, propelled her to the rail.

  She heard the doors slam behind her, and didn’t even turn.

  Her eyes probed the darkness below.

  Would this unseen hand pull her right over?

  She didn’t think she’d be able to stop it if it wanted to.

  God, what is happening to me?

  She resisted and the wind stiffened.

  The sash whipped loose and the robe blew back.

  No part of her went untouched by this tempest.

  Like invisible hands it swirled around her thighs, between them.

  Her breasts quivered.

  Her nipples stood erect and pulsing.

  She throbbed with heightened awareness, her flesh hypersensitive to the

  touch of the wind as it mercilessly stroked her body.

  Her heart raced, and before she could stop herself she’d let her head

  fall back, closed her eyes and moaned softly at the intensity of the

  sensations.

  All at once it simply stopped.

  The warmth and the essence of bay rum lingered, but that intimate

  whirlwind died slowly, giving her control of her body once more.

  She didn’t know what it had been.

  A near breakdown?

  A mental lapse of some sort?

  Whatever, it was over.

  Shaken, she pushed her hands through her hair, uncaring that her robe

  still hung gaping, having been driven down, baring one shoulder.

  She turned to go back inside.

  He stood so close she nearly bumped into his massive chest.

  Her head came up fast and her breath caught in her throat.

  His black eyes seemed molten as they raked her.

  The mystery wind stirred gently.

  She could see silver glints behind those onyx eyes, and she felt their

  heat touch her as the wind had when his gaze moved slowly upward from

  her bare feet.

  She felt it scorching her as it lifted, over her legs.

  The hot gaze paused at the mound of black curls at the apex of her

  thighs and she thought she’d go up in flames.

  Finally it moved again, with deliberate slowness over her stomach.

  She commanded her arms to come to life—to pull her robe together.

  They did not respond.

  His eyes seemed to devour her breasts, and she knew her nipples

  stiffened under that heated stare.

  The man licked his lips and she very nearly groaned aloud.

  She closed her eyes, but they refused to stay that way.

  They opened again, against her will.

  They focused on his, though she didn’t want to see the lust in his

  eyes.

  Finally he looked at her throat.

  The bruise he’d put on her there seemed to come alive with his gaze.

  It tingled, and she felt the muscle beneath the skin twitch

  spasmodically.

  She saw his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed.

  He closed his eyes briefly, and when they opened again they locked with

  hers, refusing to allow her to look away.

  Her arms regained feeling and she jerked the robe together in a move

  that showed her anger.

  “You,” she whispered.

  She felt fear and confusion.

  More than that, she felt sheer joy to see him again.

  She refused to let him see it.

  “What are you doing here?”

  CHAPTER FOUR Waiting for you,” he said slowly, watching her.

  Her mind rebelled against what that implied.

  “That’s ridiculous. How could you have known I’d come out here?”

  The intensity of his gaze boring into her eyes was staggering.

  “I summoned you here, Tamara … just as you’ve summoned me nightly

  with your cries.”

  Her brows drew together so far it hurt.

  She shook her head in denial as she searched his face.

  “You said that before. I still. don’t know what you mean.”

  “Tamara…”

  He lifted one hand in slow motion.

  He turned it gracefully at the wrist, and trailed the backs of his long

  fingers downward, over her face.

  She closed her eyes involuntarily at the pure rapture his touch evoked,

  but quickly forced them open again and took a step back.

  “Listen to your heart. It wants to tell you” — “Then I do know

  you!”

  She felt as if there were a bird trapped in her stomach, napping its

  wings desperately.

  Her eyes tugged at his as she tried to pull the answer from their

  endless depths.

  “I thought so before.

  Tell me when we met, Marquand.

  You seem so.

  familiar to me.

  ” Familiar wasn’t the word that had been on her lips. He seemed

  precious to her—like someone she’d cherished once, someone she’d

  lost.

  She saw the indecision in his eyes, and a glimmer that might have been

  pain, before he closed them and shook his head.

&nb
sp; “You will remember in time. I cannot force it on you—your mind is not

  yet ready. For now, though, I would ask that you simply trust me. I

  will not harm you, Tamara.”

  His eyes opened again, and danced over her face.

  The way he looked at her made her feel as if he couldn’t do so enough

  to appease him, as if he were trying to absorb her through his eyes.

  She stilled her responses to the feeling, and reminded herself of the

  game he’d played with her last night.

  Her shoulders squared.

  Her chin lifted.

  “Your message was delivered, Marquand. Daniel knows about our meeting

  and your little… performance. I made sure he understood.”

  As she spoke her fingers touched the still-tender skin at her throat.

  “It probably won’t change anything, though. He doesn’t listen to me

  where you’re concerned, so you can see how ineffective this

  conversation will be.

  Leave me alone. If you have something to say to Daniel, say it to him

  in person.”

  He listened.

  so well it seemed he heard her thoughts as well as her words.

  When she finished he tilted his head very slightly to one side.

  “You believe I kissed you only to make a point with St. Claire,” he

  stated, his words slow, carefully enunciated and laced with the barest

  hint of an accent that she had yet to place.

  “And the thought causes you pain.”

  She released a clipped sigh and shook her head.

  “Why would it cause me pain? I don’t know you. I don’t care ” “You

  felt drugged when I kissed you, sweet Tamara.

  You felt the ground tilt beneath you, and the sky above begin to

  spin.

  Your heart raced, your pulse roared in your temples.

  Your skin came to life with sensation.

  In those moments, as I held you, nothing else existed.

  No,” he said when she shook her head fast, and parted her lips to blurt

  angry denials. ” No, don’t.

  I know what you felt, because I felt it, too.

  The touch of your hands, the taste of your mouth, the feel of your body

  pressed to mine sent me to the very edge of my control.

  ” She felt the blood rush into her face.

  Her cheeks burned hotter with his every word, and yet the familiar knot

  of longing formed in the pit of her stomach.

  She wanted to tell him he was crazy to believe that, but she couldn’t

  seem to form the words.

  Again his hand rose to her face, and she didn’t pull away this time.

  She couldn’t say why, but she felt like crying.