Night Walker

by Lisa Kessler

  Calisto thundered through the finale of the third movement, and when the final chord sounded, he held the keys down, his foot on the sustain pedal, allowing the strings inside the grand piano to continue to sing as if he weren’t ready to give up the music yet.

  When the music finally faded into oblivion, he lifted his fingers from the keys and slowly turned toward her.

  He frowned. “You did not enjoy it?” He brought his hand up to cup her face, wiping away a tear.

  “I loved it,” Kate whispered, nuzzling gently into his touch.

  “But you are crying.”

  “Happy tears. I’ve never heard anyone play like that before. You chose my favorite piano sonata.”

  His thumb caressed her cheek. “I am glad it pleased you. For the first time in many, many years, I feel the joy in Mozart’s music. You gave me that gift, and I wanted to share it with you.”

  Kate stared into his dark eyes, bringing her hand up to brush the stray lock of hair back from his forehead. There were so many things she wanted to tell him, and yet words seemed incapable of capturing the magic of his music.

  Instead, she leaned closer, her lips meeting his in a tender kiss that made words unnecessary. A soft moan escaped her when his fingers slid into her hair, cradling the back of her head as he deepened the kiss. She pressed closer to him on the piano bench, her hands moving up his muscled chest. Kate’s pulse already raced. Just kissing him left her breathless. No man had ever had this effect on her before, which only furthered her belief he was the one.

  Calisto was the missing part of her heart, her other half, but she still didn’t know him. Not really.

  He pulled back from her lips, resting his forehead against hers. “If there had been any way for me to stay with you this morning, I would have. I was glad to find you here when I returned.”

  “I was a little blue when I first woke up, but I found your note.”

  “I hope you can forgive me.” His lips brushed hers, stealing a tender kiss. “Last night meant more to me than you could ever know.”

  Kate’s heart skipped a beat. Between the way he looked at her, and the words he spoke, she lost her train of thought. “There’s nothing to forgive. But the next time you have to leave before the sun comes up, I hope you’ll at least wake me up to give me a kiss good-bye.”

  “Any excuse to kiss you.” He leaned closer to brush his lips against hers and scooped her into his arms.

  Kate’s breath caught in her throat when he carried her through the room. She lost herself in the kiss, her tongue tangling hungrily with his. She struggled to silence her inner voice from reminding her that the bedroom they were entering was virtually empty. Reminding her she might not know this man as well as she should.

  He laid her down on the bed, covering her body with his, their lips never parting. Her fingers worked quickly to unfasten the buttons and open his shirt. She wanted him, needed him, now.

  But deep inside, she wondered if fear fed her urgent hunger for him. She pressed hot kisses down his neck, her hands sliding his shirt off of his broad shoulders. With every hungry touch of her lips to his skin, she told herself she wasn’t afraid of anything. This was passion, and she was simply surrendering to it.

  Or was it really fear, and she was running away from it?

  Kate lifted her arms so he could tear the shirt from her body, moaned as his lips caressed the swell of her breast. The feel of his weight over her, seeing his dark hair fall over his shoulders, teasing her sensitive skin, drove her insane with desire. She couldn’t resist the passion his lips offered.

  Or was she just afraid she wouldn’t like his answer if she stopped to ask him why his bedroom was so empty?

  “Calisto, stop,” she whispered, pulling him up to meet her eyes.

  He lifted his head, looking up at her with dark eyes that gazed directly into her soul. God, he made it hard to concentrate. She couldn’t help but watch the muscles in his chest and shoulders tense and he slowly pushed himself up, resting his elbows on either side of her head.

  “Is something wrong?” His thumb gently caressed her temple, brushing her hair back.

  “No… Yes.” Kate sighed and shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  Calisto frowned.

  “I need to talk to you about something before this goes any further and I lose my nerve.”

  “Have I done something to upset you?”

  She brought her hand up to cup his cheek. Touching him, knowing he was real, that he cared about her, eased her tension. Why couldn’t that be enough? “I need to know you, Calisto. The real you.” She stared into his eyes, watching for any sign he hid something from her. “I know this room, most of this house, is not you.”

  Calisto’s smile faded, and he shook his head slowly. “I do not understand.”

  Kate pressed her lips together, gathering her courage. She hoped he wouldn’t be angry with her for snooping through his home, peeking in his drawers and cupboards and closets. She didn’t want to lose him. Not ever.

  But she’d ignored her doubts to love Tom, and look how that turned out.

  If Calisto lived a double life, she decided she’d rather know now. She couldn’t risk getting too attached to another man with secrets. “This isn’t your bedroom, Calisto. It can’t be.”

  He raised a brow and glanced around the room before meeting her gaze again. “I assure you I own this house, as well as this bedroom.”

  “But it isn’t yours. All the drawers and closets are empty. There isn’t a single picture here, or anything that reminds me of you. The only room in this house that seems to have any of you in it is the office. The rest of this place is just an empty shell.”

  She brushed his hair back with her fingers. “I want to know Calisto, not the founder of Foundation Arts, or some man from an eligible bachelor list. This house and this bedroom aren’t you.”

  Calisto rose from the bed and offered her his hand. “Come with me, I want to show you something.”

  Kate allowed him to help her from the bed and pulled her shirt back on. He slid his arms into his shirt but didn’t bother to button it. He held her hand and led her downstairs.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  Calisto smiled, lifting their joined hands to kiss her knuckle. “To my bedroom.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Calisto led Kate onto the deck and down the stairs. The sight of her smile in the moonlight encouraged him that he’d made the right decision. He loved her, and she had a right to know him, more than anyone else ever would, even if he couldn’t share all of his secrets. He was stunned, not only by her perception, but by his own desire to open up to her. Mortals were often in his home and no one had ever found reason to doubt him before.

  But Kate wasn’t like everyone else. He wanted to tell her everything. He wanted to share his soul with her, or as much of it as he could.

  “Your room is outside?”

  “You ask far too many questions.”

  “And you still manage not to answer them.”

  Calisto laughed. “Perhaps.”

  Once they reached the sand, he took her around to the back of the house where the foundation met the sandy cliff. After he unlocked the double doors to the wine cellar, he froze.

  He couldn’t let Kate go inside. Not yet.

  On the wall of his private bedroom hung a large canvas that he’d painted lifetimes ago, after the mission burned to the ground. His last portrait.

  He used to love using his brushes and oils, creating a new world of color and life on an otherwise dull canvas, bringing light and life out of nothingness. As a mortal man in Spain, he apprenticed with a Church artist, learning to depict the face of Christ or the Blessed Virgin. His artistic talent led to his selection to sail to the New World with Father Serra. He was a priest, and also an artist, responsible for many murals on the Mission de Alcala’s sanctuary walls to honor the Lord he served.

  But this portrait was not of Christ.

  The painting a
dorning the wall of his room was of his Tala. She wore his signet ring tied around her neck, and she had a Romneya bloom tucked behind her ear. He even captured the tiny crescent in her right iris, along with the secret smile she saved for him alone.

  Until the night they took her from him forever.

  He couldn’t let Kate see it. She would recognize herself, and he had no explanation for it. Maybe he should have waited to bring her here.

  “Is this it?”

  Kate’s voice jarred him from his worries and Calisto nodded. “Yes.”

  He hesitated to open the door. Kate looked up at him. “Is something wrong?”

  “I have never had a visitor to my room. May I have a minute to be sure everything is as it should be?”

  “Of course.”

  He bent to taste her lips, then straightened and locked his gaze on hers. “Wait for me.”

  He slipped through the door and into his room. Lifting the painting from the hook, he stared at the portrait and smiled. He didn’t need it anymore. She was alive again and waiting for him right outside. Carefully, he wrapped the canvas inside the sheet and slid it underneath his bed and into hiding.

  He glanced around his room and, satisfied, stepped outside.

  “Can I see it now?” She smiled.

  Calisto nodded with a crooked grin. “That is why I brought you here, no?”

  …

  He held the door open for her, and Kate stepped inside. She stared at the piano that now sat in the center of his room. Her mother’s piano.

  She turned, smiling up at Calisto. “I wondered where it went.” She ran her fingertips along the lid of the baby grand piano. “I’m so glad it found a good home.”

  “Your fingers have graced its keys.” He crossed his arms with a shrug. “I could not allow anyone else to touch it.”

  “Have you played it?” she asked, looking back at him.

  “Every night.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course.” He nodded. “It made me feel closer to you.”

  “No wonder I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” She smiled. “You were thinking about me too.”

  “I feared I might never see you again.” He caressed her cheek.

  She nuzzled into his touch. “I couldn’t stay away.”

  “Good,” Calisto replied, his voice just above a whisper.

  “Is it?”

  “Si.”

  “Why?” She tilted her chin up toward him.

  Calisto took a step closer. “Because.” He kissed her tenderly, whispering against her lips. “I love you, Kate.”

  His lips fused with hers, and he lifted her into his arms, carrying her to his bed. Calisto lowered her slowly without breaking the kiss, his body covering hers. He slid his hands underneath her t-shirt, pushing the fabric up. Her skin felt soft in his hands, and the way her body writhed beneath him sent his desire soaring.

  He needed her. Now.

  He kissed her mouth, chin, down her neck, his lips and tongue tasting every inch of her skin, exploring every curve. She pulled his shirt down from his shoulders and he shrugged it off. Her warm hands ran up his back and into his hair, her nails massaging his scalp while he freed himself from his pants.

  He looked into her eyes, and she saw silent passion that spoken words could never hope to communicate. Lying in his arms, she lived simply to love him. Her fingers tangled in his dark mane, pulling him closer until their lips met in a hungry kiss. His hips pressed forward, joining them, one in a passionate struggle for pleasure and closeness.

  Kate rolled on top of him without breaking the kiss. His hands slid down the arch of her back to grip her waist. Gradually she softened the kiss, drawing back until she sat up, staring down at him. Calisto filled her perfectly, completely. His eyes burned with carnal desire. She felt sensual watching his gaze moving over her curves.

  She savored the feel of him inside of her, grinding against his slow thrusts. She dropped her head back, moaning his name. Calisto pushed up, kissing his way along her neck. His lips fused with hers in a hungry kiss as he held her tight in his arms, her breasts crushed against his chest. Kate wrapped her legs around his waist. She couldn’t get close enough. As her body reached its peak, she trembled in his arms, and gasped against his lips. “I love you, too.”

  …

  He was sick of hiding.

  Time to push the battle forward.

  Even though it appeared Kate was staying with the Night Walker, as long as she remained mortal, he had the upper hand. She held the key to his plan’s success. If he let her slip through his fingers now, the Night Walker had already won.

  An unacceptable scenario. He had waited far too long for this. His ambition would never accept failure.

  Father Mentigo combed through his thick black hair, focusing his attention on his dark eyes in the mirror. He would make an imposing immortal. His tall stature already forced most people to look up to him. The sharp angles of his face and his hawk-like nose made his cold stares even more piercing and threatening.

  Replacing the comb, he picked up his silver shears and clipped his hair, cutting until it rested at least an inch above his collar. He took a moment to admire his transformation, and then reached for the ivory-handled straight razor. With a steady hand, he slid the blade along the edge of his jaw, shaving off most of his beard. Every deliberate swipe of the blade carved out a new identity, leaving behind a thin, angular goatee that gave him more defined features. He felt his bare skin and inspected his new look.

  Facial hair wasn’t tolerated in the monastery, but he was far from their reach now. He wouldn’t be a pious monk much longer anyway.

  A twisted grin curled over his lips, causing the razor blade to slice into his now-uneven jawline. He smirked, watching his blood pool around the cut and slowly drip from his face.

  He’d never been very pious. But he was an excellent actor.

  He finished shaving, allowing his wound to remain open, bleeding. Soon his body would be immortal, and wounds would heal almost the instant they were sustained. He dipped his index finger into the small puddle of blood pooling on the sink and held it up at eye level, marveling at the rich crimson color, the thick consistency, and the earthy scent.

  Slowly, he brought his fingertip to his lips, sucking the blood from his skin, drinking in his own life. In the near future, it would be the blood of others that sustained him. The thought sent heat through his loins.

  Bending lower, he licked the blood from the surface of the sink, savoring the coppery flavor of the last remaining traces of his blood. How sweet it would taste when it flowed past his lips, still warmed by his victim’s pounding heart. Soon, he would have the strength he thirsted for. Very soon.

  He tended to his cut before stepping out for the evening. His palms were clammy as he gripped the steering wheel of his car, the Latin chant repeating itself endlessly in the back of his mind, cloaking his true thoughts from any beings who might try to listen. His senses were on the alert, his eyes shifting from one side to the other, knowing that any shadow might hide the Night Walker. He had to be careful. It wasn’t time for them to meet face to face.

  Not yet.

  Tonight, he would meet someone else.

  Checking the address again, he pulled to a stop outside of the gated condominiums. He spotted her car inside the wrought iron fence and took a cigarette out of the glove compartment. He waited for almost an hour.

  The blonde walked around the corner before he got out of his car to follow. It wasn’t hard to find her on the crowded streets. She had an air about her that commanded attention, and with her blonde hair falling past her shoulders, and her tight leather skirt, attention was exactly what she got. Men and women stepped out of her way, their eyes following her as she passed.

  He wet his lips in anticipation. He could taste her already.

  Her stiletto heels clicked out a confident pace ahead of him, then she disappeared into a dimly lit club. He followed, making his way through the masses o
f undulating bodies toward the bar. Once his eyes adjusted to the shadowy surroundings, he scanned the room. His head pounded from the blaring techno music. He struggled to maintain the constant chant running in the back of his mind.

  Until his plan came to fruition, he remained vulnerable. He couldn’t let the Night Walker find him. He would face the immortal when he was ready.

  It couldn’t be the other way around.

  He turned to the bar when the bartender delivered his drink. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her. She sat alone at a small table just to the right of him. Taking a swallow of his drink, he made his approach.

  …

  Betty sipped her margarita and glared at the dancing couples from over the salty rim of her glass. Even the blasting music and alcohol didn’t dull the anger that festered inside of her. She’d been pissed off since she opened Calisto’s door and found Kate Bradley standing there in nothing but his bathrobe. The bitch was probably in his bed at this very moment, planning to screw him stupid until he married her and wrote her into his will.

  She drummed her perfectly manicured acrylic nails on the table, trying to stop picturing Calisto touching another woman. She needed to find a gorgeous guy to take her mind off of him, but so far she was still alone.

  “Good evening.”

  A nice pair of black slacks suddenly obscured Betty’s view of the club. She gave him her sultriest smile and allowed her gaze to wander up his body. “Hello.”

  His voice was deep and rich, with an accent very similar to Calisto’s. He was over six feet tall, with dark eyes and hair. His thin, well-groomed goatee only added to the overall look of sophistication radiating around him. He looked like a man who usually got what he wanted.

  Nothing on earth turned Betty on more.

  She took another long, slow sip of her margarita, her eyes on his, making it plain that he now had her undivided attention.

  “I hope that I’m not intruding, but a woman as beautiful as you should be dancing, not sitting.”

  Something about the way he said beautiful sounded familiar, but she didn’t take the time to try to place it.