Nightwalker

by Jocelynn Drake

I moaned softly against his mouth, my fingers threading through his hair. With a little pressure he guided me backward until I felt something pressing against the back of my knees. Running his hands up and down my back, he slowly pulled his mouth away and smiled down at me, his eyes sparkling with some kind of mischief. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask what he was thinking when he gave my left shoulder a little shove, pushing me onto the bed.

  “Make time stand still, Mira,” he murmured in a low, husky voice that sent a shimmer of warmth over my body. “Give us tonight.”

  Parting my knees so he was standing between my leather-clad legs, I sat up and grabbed a fistful of his shirt. As I lay back down, Michael crawled onto the bed, placing his elbows on either side of my head as he leaned down and reclaimed my lips. My eyes fell shut as he wrung another moan out of me, my body instinctively arching against his. I wanted to feel all of him. I needed to feel all of his soft, warm skin pressed against the length of my body, but I would follow his lead. Michael was in control and I was enjoying every second of this escape while I could.

  Moving his lips along my jaw, Michael shifted his weight onto his left arm, allowing him to slip his right hand between our bodies. His nimble fingers slid over my ribs and up to cup my breast, his thumb rubbing over my nipple through the rough lace of the bra.

  “Have you missed me?” he asked in a harsh, breathless whisper, running his lips over mine.

  “Very much.” My hands fumbled for a moment, searching for the edge of his shirt. I finally found it, allowing me to run my hands up his back. His muscles flexed and danced beneath my fingers. He kissed me again as his fingers pulled down the bra, freeing my breast for his teasing fingers.

  “Not nearly enough, I think.” Changing directions, he ran the tip of his tongue along my flat stomach from my belly button, up along my ribs, skirting along the edge of the red scar left from last night’s wound before finally settling on my bare breast. His tongue swirled around my hardened nipple, his teeth grazing it.

  My eyes fell shut again. My fingers dug into his blond locks, twisting to get a better hold. I arched against him, my heels digging into the edge of the bed. I needed to be closer, to become a part of him.

  “You’re driving me mad.”

  Michael chuckled, his hot breath dancing across my damp flesh from where his mouth had been just moments before. “That’s the point.” My angel moved back up to my lips, kissing me deeply.

  Wrapping his arms around my waist, he rolled over onto his back, pulling me on top of him. “Bite me, Mira,” he said, moving his lips to kiss down my jaw to my neck.

  “Not tonight, my angel,” I said, lifting my face so I could kiss his lips again, but he kept his head turned so his neck was before me. The main artery throbbed at me, beckoning. The darkness stirred inside me, but I struggled to push it back down again. I was still half starved, needed to gorge myself on blood not only to heal but to regain my full strength. But I wouldn’t feed off Michael. I had taken too much of his blood too often. His warmth and laughter kept any lingering pangs of hunger at bay.

  “Please, Mira. Bite me. I need this.” His words escaped him with a harsh, desperate quality that sent a chill through me.

  I sat up so I could look down at him, my desire suddenly cooling. “Please, don’t push me, my angel,” I said wearily. “I need you strong.”

  “I can handle it.” His right hand cupped my cheek. He tried to pull me back down but I wouldn’t budge.

  “No. You should go back downstairs.” I moved so I was now sitting beside him, my hip pressed against his.

  “Please, Mira,” he said, his voice wavering. Something in his tone finally caught my attention and I stared into his eyes. They looked a little glassy, as if he was sick. Frowning, I pushed into his thoughts. Jumbled and fragmented, it took me a couple seconds to make sense out of them, but there was one repeating one; the need for the pleasure my bite brought him.

  I pulled loose of the tangle of thoughts in his brain and smacked him hard enough to snap his head sideways. “Enough!” I was more frustrated with myself for letting this happen than at him. Michael had become addicted and come begging to me for his next fix. His interest in sex had nothing to do with me and everything to do with my feeding off of him.

  He looked at me like a wounded puppy and I bit back a groan. “I need you to be focused. I can’t get Sadira out of here safely without you,” I continued in a soft but firm voice, resisting the urge to cup his cheeks with my hands. Pushing off the bed, I got to my feet and paced away from the bed, readjusting my bra so my breasts were covered again. A horrible, hollow ache throbbed in my chest. I had fooled myself into thinking that I’d held his interest.

  When I turned back, Michael was standing beside the bed, straightening his clothes. His eyes still looked hurt, but he had pulled himself back together. At least for now. Maybe he wasn’t too far gone yet. It didn’t matter. I was done with him. When we reached the Coven meeting place, I was putting Michael and Gabriel on the next plane home. They would be of no real help after that, and keeping them at my side would only put them in unnecessary danger. I wouldn’t ruin what was left of Michael’s life.

  “Go downstairs. I’ll be down in a minute,” I directed, forcing the words up my raw throat. Michael nodded again and left the room. I sat on the end of the bed and followed him with my mind. He did as he was told and went directly to the room that held Sadira and the others.

  Putting my elbows on my knees, I leaned forward and rested my forehead in the palms of my hands. I was destroying Michael by being in his life. Why had Gabriel’s mind come through this so unscathed? He was always a solid rock at my back. I had fed from him in the past and yet his mind suffered none of the damage I apparently had wrought with Michael.

  But there was no answer. Michael was crumbling before me and it was my fault. I’d thought I was someone important in his life. I would never be so foolish as to describe the emotion as love, but at least some emotion that would be used to describe a person. But to him, I was just the source of intense pleasure, like a drug.

  Being addicted to the bite of a nightwalker was a common enough occurrence, but it was also easy to avoid. If you never fed from the same person more than once, or if you did and always wiped his memory, the problem was avoided. But eventually we all ended up with a human companion that we drifted back to for a long span of nights in the name of pleasure and companionship. In time we drained them. We drained them of more than just their blood, but their willpower, their dignity, and their lives.

  My thoughts were scattered again when someone knocked on the door. I looked up at the mirror over the bureau to find my face blissfully blank. It was nice to look so unaffected when I felt like screaming.

  “Come in,” I called, rising from the bed.

  “Sorry to disturb you,” James said as he entered. A deep flush stained his cheeks when he saw me standing by the edge of the bed without a shirt. He quickly averted his eyes.

  I walked over to the closet door and pulled it open. “I was just heading downstairs,” I said, riffling through the clothes I found hanging there until my eyes fell on a plain black button-up shirt.

  “If you have a moment, Ryan has requested a meeting with you before you leave,” James said, obviously expecting me to turn down the invitation.

  I paused in the act up buttoning up the shirt, grateful that Melanie and I were roughly the same size. “Just me? Not Sadira?” I was surprised. Sadira was the oldest of the trio of nightwalkers in the compound, making her the natural superior.

  “He asked only for you.”

  “I guess I can spare a few moments,” I said with an indifferent shrug as I attached the last two buttons. I was going to finally meet the big boss man. I wasn’t sure how much new information he would be able to provide, but so far Themis had been most helpful. Far more helpful than Jabari and Sadira, who were working very hard to keep me out of the loop, while someone was trying to kill me. And this time it didn’t appear to be
a hunter.

  Twenty-Four

  Ryan was a warlock. I had suspected it before arriving at the Compound, but it was blatantly obvious when I walked into his private office on the third floor. He leaned against the front of his large walnut desk, his long legs stretched out before him and crossed casually at the ankle. He had been expecting me. Of course, I’m sure he could feel every move I made in his manor without straining himself.

  He was a handsome man, standing just over six feet, with a long, lean body that somehow managed to exude a beautiful grace rather than being awkward. He wore a dark charcoal-gray suit with a black undershirt. Unlike his brethren, he wasn’t wearing a tie, and the top two buttons of the shirt were undone, revealing an expanse of nicely tanned throat. In fact, his tanned skin and dark-colored suit stood in sharp contrast to his long white hair. Falling somewhere past his shoulders, it was pulled back with a narrow, black ribbon; a throwback to an era long past.

  His face had a strange ageless quality to it. There were no wrinkles or deep lines, making him seem to be in his early to mid-thirties at first glance. But his gold eyes held a depth that one could only earn through years of experience. He was old; older than any human was meant to be.

  Magic had a distinct effect on a human’s physical appearance. And the deeper and more skilled a warlock or witch became in the use of magic, the more profound the effect. His power was etched into his features and imbued every inch of his being. It sizzled in the room like a current of electricity, making my skin crawl.

  Most humans that used magic did it by accident. Events sometimes happened in their favor and the human simply chalked it up as a run of good luck. Only the ones who actually studied magic and attained some basic understanding were called witches and warlocks. And then there were those like Ryan, who made the study of magic a life’s pursuit. They were simply called dangerous.

  After James wordlessly shut the door, leaving me alone with this strange man, Ryan rose to his feet without pushing off the desk. He stood in the same, seemingly boneless manner that vampires could. I had known a few warlocks in my time, but never saw a human pull a trick I always thought exclusive to nightwalkers.

  “Impressive.” I said, lightly applauding. “I guess pulling a rabbit out of your hat is too mundane.”

  He smiled back at me; a warm, friendly smile that seemed open and guileless. That was almost more impressive that his earlier trick. How could someone who wielded as much power as he did seem so nice? The same way the naturi seemed so harmless—centuries of practice.

  “My name is Ryan,” he said, extending his hand toward me. I stared at it a moment, admiring his long fingers, but never touched him. It was a good, strong hand, the type of hand that could comfort as easily as it could punish.

  Stepping around him, I looked at some of the bookshelves that lined his wall. I glanced over the old spines, but my attention was still completely on the room’s only other occupant. I preferred to keep a little space between us for now. “I know your name,” I replied blandly. “I also know what you are. My question is: Do your associates know?”

  “They know I’m a warlock,” he said, drawing my eyes back to him. His smile grew a little wider. “However, I imagine your assessment of my powers is a little more accurate than theirs.”

  Arching one eyebrow at him, I smiled. “So you’ve purposefully kept them in the dark.” There was no anger or accusation in my voice. Just honest curiosity. I wanted to understand his motives and the situation I had walked into. I also desperately needed to understand the players in this little farce before it cost me my existence.

  “My abilities aren’t important to their cause.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” I corrected. “You’ve not only kept them in the dark about yourself, but also the truth about vampires. I’ve heard and read some of the things these people believe about my kind. Why do you allow them to perpetuate such lies?”

  “For their own safety,” he said. His wide smile faded a bit but still lingered on his lips. He shoved his hands in his trouser pockets, reminding me of a corporate executive after hours.

  “What about mine? You’ve been sending hunters after my kind.”

  “Both of our worlds are changing; much faster than I expected, I must admit. A couple centuries ago some of the things written about vampires were true. Most were ruthless hunters that killed every time they fed, but now I have found they are using some discretion. You’re still very dangerous, and without some fear of you, I worry humans will run blindly into your inviting arms.”

  “I may have disillusioned poor James of some of these archaic notions. Will you silence him to keep him from infecting the rest?”

  “No, of course not,” he said with a shake of his head, looking amused. “I won’t suppress the truth within Themis. However, I want them to find it on their own.”

  “And the hunters? Were they your creation? Another attempt to protect your flock?” I slowly paced back over toward him, my footsteps muffled on the thick Persian rug.

  Ryan had yet to move other than to turn on a heel so he was continuously facing me. “The hunters were created long before I ever joined Themis.”

  “But you’ve done nothing to get rid of them since joining this little cult, despite your enlightened view of my kind.”

  “What makes you think that my view of nightwalkers is so enlightened?” he countered, arching one brow at me.

  “I’m here and still alive,” I said, holding out my hands, palms up at him. I stood directly in front of him, only a couple feet of empty space separating us. “You could have ordered Danaus to stake me and the others during the daylight hours, but you didn’t. I also know that you couldn’t have attained the kind of power I feel in this room without running into things far worse than me during your long years.”

  “What could be worse than a nightwalker who can control fire?” he said, his smile finally returning.

  “Danaus.”

  Ryan’s smile instantly vanished and a shadow seemed to pass over his eyes as he stared at me, weighing my answer. We were both now standing in a field of land mines, each wondering how much the other person knew. His hands shifted in his trouser pockets, his eyes narrowing in thought. I had never run across such an eye color in any creature before—not yellow, but the true, deep luster of gold.

  “Danaus is an interesting…person,” he said, pausing for a breath before continuing. “He’s had a particular interest in you during the past several years.”

  “How long have you known about the naturi’s plans?” I demanded, my voice hardening. My hands balled into fists at my sides and I resisted the urge to take a step closer.

  “His interest in you had nothing to do with the naturi.” Ryan’s broad shoulders slumped as he seemed to relax. He moved back to lean against the front of the desk and motioned for me to take a seat in one of the leather chairs resting before it. I was feeling indulgent, so I sat to his right, crossing my legs as I waited for him to continue.

  “Before arriving on Themis’s doorstep,” he said, “I understand that Danaus spent many years living with monks, who taught him that good and evil was a black-and-white issue in this world. Humans were created by God and were innately good. By that logic, everything else was evil and had to be exterminated. You were an interest of his because you seemed to embody the ultimate evil. A nightwalker, a human that has turned from God, that can control fire, directly linking you to Satan and all that is evil.

  “You’re somewhat of a mythical creature among your own kind. It took him almost a decade to track down your given name. Most still just know you as the Fire Starter.”

  “‘Mira’ doesn’t strike the same kind of fear,” I said with a shrug.

  “Danaus became quite determined to find and destroy you…” Ryan paused, staring at me. A dark shadow seemed to passed over his face as he regarded me with his too perceptive eyes, sending a chill up my spine. I suddenly wished that I wasn’t seated so close to the warlock.

 
; “And then something changed for him. In all his searching and digging, not once did he hear a tale of you killing a human. Of course, there were numerous stories of you slaughtering your own kind, particularly those who had carelessly killed humans.”

  “But he thought I killed when I fed,” I interjected, recalling our conversation during the plane ride to Egypt.

  “True, but I think he was beginning to have doubts about that old myth as well. Before we discovered the naturi’s sacrifice, he had stopped his search for you. You were beginning to raise some uncomfortable questions…I think he was even contemplating leaving Themis. When I sent him to look for you in the States, he had regained his resolve to destroy you.” Ryan paused, staring thoughtfully. I knew he must have made sure that Danaus once again had ample motive to go after my head. “But something has changed for him.” Ryan said the last softly, as if thinking aloud rather than talking to me. I knew his thoughts as though I’d read them. He was wondering about that change. Danaus had more than enough opportunities to kill me but he hadn’t, and protected me on more than one occasion.

  “He’s learned that Themis doesn’t have all the right answers,” I said stiffly. “He’s not pleased with your little group at the moment. Danaus has been misled and used. You’ve lied to him.”

  “I never lied to Danaus,” Ryan said. The warlock frowned at me, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “If he asked, I would have told him all I knew of your kind. He had his mind made up about nightwalkers long before I was born.”

  “You could have told him.”

  “He had to discover it on his own.”

  “Nice excuse,” I said snidely. “You had your own agenda, and the fact that you could use Danaus’s misinformed conclusions to your advantage provided you with no moral dilemma.” I leaned forward in the chair, tightly gripping the arms.

  “Don’t we all.” He shrugged his wide shoulders. “I wish you would not think so ill of me, Mira. We have the same goal.”

  A dark smile lifted the corners of my mouth as I stood. “I doubt that.”