At Twilight

by Maggie Shayne

  again.

  He gave her no time to recover from the first shattering explosion.

  He forced her trembling body beyond it, and toward another.

  He anchored her to him with his arms, forcing her acceptance of his

  every thrust.

  He covered her mouth with his, and forced his tongue inside, still

  coated with the taste of her.

  He plunged harder, faster, and he knew when her fists clenched and her

  nails sank into the flesh of his back that she was once again on the

  brink.

  He swallowed her cries this time when she went over, and she swallowed

  his, for he fell with her.

  His entire body shook with the force of his release.

  He clung to her, relaxing his body to hers.

  Aftershocks of pleasure still rippled through him when he began to move

  inside her again.

  CHAPTER TWELVE Too soon, she thought, when she knew dawn approached.

  She studied his profile as he lay beside her, and she thought again

  she’d never known a man so handsome.

  No shadow of beard darkened his jawline.

  In fact, his face was as smooth as it had been earlier.

  He caught her gaze on him and smiled.

  “I shall have to leave you soon,” he said, giving voice to her

  thoughts.

  She snuggled closer, wishing he didn’t.

  “Where do you go? Do you rest in—in a coffin?” He nodded, sitting up

  slightly and reaching for his shirt.

  “Does the idea repulse you?

  ” “Nothing about you could ever repulse me, Eric.”

  She sat up, too, as he poked his muscled arms into the white sleeves.

  She pushed his hands away when he began to button the shirt, and leaned

  over to button it herself.

  “I don’t think I’d like seeing you in it, though. Why a coffin,

  anyway?

  Is it some kind of vampire tradition?

  Why not a bed, for God’s sake?

  ” He laughed, tipping his head back.

  Tamara found her gaze glued to the corded muscles in his neck.

  She leaned nearer and pressed her lips to it.

  He stroked her hair.

  “It is for protection. There are more humans who know of our existence

  than you would believe. Most would like nothing better than to

  terminate it.

  We could sleep in vaults, or behind locked doors, I suppose. But

  nothing offers more protection than a coffin, which locks from the

  inside and has a trapdoor built beneath it.”

  “Trapdoor?”

  She finished with his last button and looked up, interested.

  “Are you conscious enough to use it?”

  “The scent of imminent danger would rouse me even from the deepest

  slumber.

  Not much, mind you, but I only need move one finger. The button is

  placed in the spot where my hand rests. When I touch it the hinged

  mattress swings down, dumping me into a hidden room below. It springs

  back into place on its own. The only side effects are a few aches from

  being dumped bodily.”

  “You feel pain, then?”

  “Not while I’m holding you.”

  As he spoke he pulled her into his arms.

  “But that is not the answer you wanted, is it?

  In truth, I feel everything more keenly than a human would.

  Heat, cold, pain.

  ” His fingers danced over her nape. ” Pleasure,” he whispered close to

  her ear. ” Pain can incapacitate me, but whatever injuries I might

  sustain are healed while I rest.

  It’s a regenerative sleep, you see.

  ” His lips moved over her temple. He kissed her eyelids, her cheeks

  and then her mouth, thoroughly and deeply. ” I believe I will be in

  need of it after this night.

  ” She smiled at his little joke, but the smile died when she realized

  that the sky beyond the window was beginning to lighten.

  She looked at his heavy-lidded eyes, and she felt his growing

  lethargy.

  “You need to rest.”

  She pulled from his embrace, reached for their clothes and handed his

  to him.

  “Come on, it’ll be light soon.”

  “Too soon,” he told her.

  But he took the trousers from her, and slid off the bed to put them

  on.

  “I still dislike the thought of you going back to St. Claire today.”

  “I know.”

  She fastened her jeans, and walked around the bed to stand close to

  him.

  “I have to, though. And I love you more for not trying to tell me what

  to do. I know you don’t think highly of Daniel, but just like he’s

  wrong about you, you’re wrong about him, Eric. He isn’t all bad.”

  In the distance the sky began to turn from gray to pink.

  Eric’s shoulders lost their usual spread.

  His chin wasn’t as high as it had been.

  She put an arm around his waist, and he draped one over her

  shoulders.

  She was beginning to feel tired, as well.

  They descended the stairs side by side, and all too soon stood locked

  together in the open doorway as Eric kissed her one last time.

  She fought her sleepiness as she drove back home.

  She thought she might have time to catch an hour or two of sleep before

  she’d have to force herself awake and head in to work.

  She’d decided to resign.

  She couldn’t, continue working for DPI, knowing how they’d sponsored

  Eric’s constant harassment over the years.

  Besides, it now was a blatant conflict of interest.

  She was in love with the subject of their longest-running

  investigation.

  She let herself in, and caught her breath.

  Daniel, fully dressed, lay sprawled on the sofa, one arm and one leg

  dangling.

  A blanket had been tossed over him, but he’d only twisted himself up in

  it.

  His hair looked as if he’d been outside in a strong wind.

  When she drew nearer, the odor of stale alcohol assaulted her, and she

  saw the empty whiskey bottle on the floor.

  “Well, finally made it home, did you?”

  She caught her breath and looked up fast.

  Curtis lounged in the doorway that led into the huge dining room, a cup

  of coffee in his hand.

  “What are you doing here, Curt?”

  She glanced quickly at the clock on the wall.

  It was only five-forty-five.

  “You’ve been with him all night, haven’t you?”

  There was something in his eyes, some coldness in his voice, that

  frightened her.

  “I’m an adult. Curt. Where I go is my business.”

  He straightened, came across the room and slammed the cup onto a

  table.

  “Can’t you see how perverted this is?

  He’s a frigging animal!

  And you’re no better—acting like a bitch in heat.

  Christ, Tam my, if you’d needed it that bad all you had to do was

  ask”— She reached him in two long strides and brought her hand across

  his face hard enough to rock him back on his feet. ” Get out!

  ” “I don’t think so.”

  He stood facing her, and she saw absolute hatred in his eyes.

  How had she ever thought she had a true friend in this man?

  He blinked, though, and altered his tone of voice.

&n
bsp; “You’re under some kind of spell, Tam my.”

  “What went on here last night?”

  She took a step to the side and went past him, through the dining room,

  knowing he’d follow.

  In the kitchen she got a cup of coffee for herself, and added sugar,

  hoping it would give her an energy boost.

  “Daniel drank himself into a coma. What does it look like?”

  She turned, cup in hand, and frowned at him.

  “He called me around midnight, babbling about you and Marquand. I

  couldn’t make sense of half of it. By the time I got here he’d drained

  the bottle.

  He was slurring something about dropping the research, or losing you

  forever.

  Is that the game plan. Tam? You use emotional blackmail on a guy

  who’s been like a father to you? Force him to give up forty years of

  work, just so you can have your kinky fling?”

  She felt no anger at his remarks.

  Only joy.

  “He said he was going to drop it?”

  Curt’s glare was once again filled with loathing.

  “He was too drunk to know what he was saying. But let me tell you

  something. Tam. I’m not going to drop it. Daniel has taught me

  everything he knows, so if he’s ready to throw in the towel, I’ll pick

  it up. You won’t manipulate me the way you do him.”

  She opened her mouth to hurl a scathing reply, but saw Daniel standing

  weakly beyond Curt, making his way into the kitchen.

  “You, Curtis, will do what I tell you. I got you this far in DPI, and

  I can just as easily have you tossed out.”

  He made it to a kitchen chair, leaned on the back of it for a moment,

  head down, then pulled it out and sat down.

  “Daniel, are you okay?”

  She turned to pour a cup of coffee, and then set it before him.

  “Can I get you anything?

  ” He looked at her for a long moment, seemingly searching for

  something.

  Finally he shook his head, and stared into the coffee cup.

  “I owe her, Curtis. You know it as well as I do. We’re dropping

  it.”

  “You’re falling for her game, hook, line and sinker, aren’t you?”

  Curt paced the room, shaking his head, pushing his hands through his

  hair.

  “Can’t you see she’s sold you out? She’s joined the enemy, Daniel.

  She’s the one we should have been studying all this time. I always

  told you she was more vampire than human!”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Tamara set her coffee down, spilling half of it.

  “You mean to tell me you still don’t know?”

  “Don’t know what?”

  Daniel struggled to his feet, one hand massaging his forehead.

  “That’s enough, Curtis. I think you ought to leave now. Tamara and I

  need to talk.”

  Curtis eyed Tamara narrowly.

  “You mark my words, Tam my. You go through with this sick liaison and

  we’ll all end up dead. You’ll have my blood on your hands.”

  He nodded toward Daniel.

  “And his. You just remember that I warned you.”

  He turned on his heel and strode away.

  A second later the front door slammed, rattling the windows.

  Daniel returned to his seat, shaking his head.

  “He’ll get over it. Tam. Give him time.”

  She sat across from him and slipped her hand over his.

  “He’s wrong, Daniel. Eric is the gentlest man I’ve ever known. I

  want…”

  She drew a steadying breath and plunged on.

  “I want you to meet him. Talk to him. I want you to see that he’s not

  what you think.”

  He nodded.

  “I figured you would, and I suppose I have to. I don’t mind telling

  you.

  Tam, I’m afraid of him. The scientist in me is excited, though. To

  be that close…”

  He nodded again, and went on.

  “The biggest part of me knows this is inevitable. I’ll do my best to

  make my peace with him. Tam. I’ve been over it a million times, all

  night long.

  It boils down to one thing.

  ” He reached up and cupped her face with one hand. ” I don’t want to

  lose you.

  ” Slowly he closed his eyes. ” Bringing you into this house, into my

  life changed everything for me, Tamara.

  Before that I was.

  ” He opened his eyes and she was surprised to see tears brimming in

  them.

  He shook his head.

  “Go on. You were what?”

  “A different man. A bastard, Tamara. More of a monster than Marquand

  could ever be. And I’m sorry for it… sorrier than you’ll ever

  know.”

  She shook her head, not certain what to say.

  She felt this to be the most honest moment they’d ever shared.

  She finished her coffee and went to bed, and Daniel didn’t wake her.

  In fact, she was roused by the phone, shocked when she blinked her

  clock into focus and saw the time.

  She groped for the phone when it shrilled again, and brought it to her,

  wondering why Daniel hadn’t answered it himself.

  “Tam?”

  At the familiar voice, her irritation dissolved.

  “Jamey?”

  She frowned and checked the clock once more.

  “Why aren’t you in school?”

  “I cut out. Tam…”

  He sighed and it sounded shaky.

  Tamara sat up in bed.

  “Something’s wrong.”

  “Are you sick?”

  Her alarm sent the lethargy skittering to a dark corner of her mind.

  “Did you get hurt or something?

  Do you want me to call your mom?

  ” “No. It’s not like that, it’s something else.”

  Another shuddering sigh.

  “I’m not sure what it is.”

  “Okay, Jamey, calm down. Just tell me where you are, and” — “I took a

  cab.

  I’m at a pay phone in By ram. I didn’t want to come to the house.”

  At least that was normal.

  The rambling Victorian had always given Jamey a case of the creeps.

  “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  “Hurry, Tam, or we’ll be too late.”

  Fear made her voice soft.

  “Too late for what, Jamey?

  ” “I don’t know! Just hurry, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  She replaced the receiver with shaking hands.

  Something was terribly wrong.

  She’d heard the terror in Jamey’s voice.

  Along with her gut-twisting concern was a flare of anger.

  Whoever was responsible for upsetting him this much would have to

  answer for it.

  She yanked on jeans and a sweatshirt.

  She pulled on socks and sneakers, then a jacket.

  She took a hairbrush from her purse and jerked it through her hair on

  the way down the stairs.

  Daniel was just coming up from the basement.

  “What is it, hon?”

  “Jamey. He’s all out of sorts about something. I’m going to meet him

  in town, buy him a burger and talk him through it.”

  She hugged Daniel quickly, then shoved the brush back into her bag and

  pulled out her keys.

  Five minutes later she picked Jamey up.

  He was tugging on the Bug’s door before it came to a full stop.


  He climbed in, looking pale and wide-eyed.

  “I think I’m goin’ crazy,” he announced.

  Her instinct was to tell him that was nonsense, but she’d felt the same

  way recently—too often not to take his fear seriously.

  “I’ve thought that a time or two myself, pal.”

  She searched his young face.

  Eleven years old was far too young to have such serious troubles

  weighing on him.

  “Tell me about it.”

  “You know before, when I asked you if you knew someone named Eric?

  ” She stiffened, but nodded. ” Well, I hope you know where he lives.

  We have to go there.

  ” She didn’t question Jamey.

  She put the car in gear and moved quickly down the street.

  “Do you know why?”

  Jamey closed, his eyes and rubbed his forehead as if it ached.

  “I think somebody’s trying to kill him.”

  “My God.”

  She pressed the accelerator to the floor, shifting rapidly.

  “It’s been coming in my head ever since I hung up the phone. It won’t

  leave me alone until we go there—but it doesn’t make sense.”

  “Why?”

  “Because…! get the feeling he’s already dead.”

  She drove the Bug as fast as it would go, and it vibrated with the

  effort.

  Even then, it took twenty minutes to reach the tall gate at the end of

  Eric’s driveway.

  Tamara almost cried out when she saw Curt’s car, pulled haphazardly

  onto the roadside nearby.

  She slammed on her brakes, killed the motor, wrenched the door open.

  She ran to the gate with Jamey on her heels.

  It had been battered with something heavy.

  The pretty filigree vines were bent, some broken.

  The gate hung open and the electronic box inside was crushed.

  Pieces of its insides littered the snow.

  A single set of footprints led over the driveway, toward the house.

  “Eric!”

  Tamara’s scream echoed in the stillness as the reality of what was

  happening bludgeoned her mind.

  A small, firm hand caught hers and tugged her through the gate.

  “C’mon, Tam. Come on, hurry!”

  She blinked against the tears but they continued to fall unchecked.

  She couldn’t see where her feet were coming down as she ran headlong,

  guided only by that strong grip.

  Eric’s castle like home loomed ahead, a tear-blurred mound of

  roughhewn blocks.

  In a matter of seconds they were at the door, which stood yawning.

  She swiped her eyes and hurried through.

  The living room looked as if a madman had raged through.