Night's Promise

by Amanda Ashley

  She grinned, thinking about the new iPad Z12, and cars that talked to you and were capable of driving themselves if you didn’t want to be bothered holding the wheel, or if you wanted to take a nap during a long journey.

  After brushing her teeth, Sheree slipped under the covers and closed her eyes, all thoughts of vampires and technology fading away as Derek’s image rose in her mind and followed her to sleep. . . .

  And he was there, so real she knew she couldn’t be dreaming. He whispered her name as he drew her into his arms, his hands sliding up and down her back, his palms skimming the sides of her breasts, his mouth covering hers in a kiss that sent a shaft of heat straight to her core. His tongue tangled with hers in a provocative duel that had her clinging to him as the only solid thing in a world rapidly spinning out of control.

  Sheree closed her eyes, gasping with pleasure as he kissed his way to her throat, his tongue like lightning as he laved the tender place beneath her ear. In a distant part of her mind, she realized he was biting her, but it felt so good, she didn’t care. Pleasure spiraled deep within her, spinning outward to every fiber of her being, more sensual and satisfying than anything she had ever imagined.

  She smiled when he kissed her good night. At his word, she sank into oblivion.

  Sheree was sweet, Derek thought as he drove home from her house. Far sweeter than anyone he had ever known. Or tasted. Slipping inside her mind had been all too easy.

  He smiled with the memory, thinking just one taste would never be enough, although he would have to wait a day or two before drinking from her again.

  Taking from her too often would leave her weak, listless.

  Taking too much could leave her dead.

  He had been tempted to seduce her while she was in thrall, but while it might have been physically satisfying, he preferred his partners to be awake and willing.

  Pulling into the driveway of his mother’s house, he noted that the lights were on. No doubt she was waiting up for him again. Derek slammed the door as he got out of the car. Dammit, he was twenty-five years old and a vampire. What was she worried about?

  As expected, Mara was waiting for him in the living room, a vision in a long white velvet robe, her hair like a black nimbus around her shoulders. His vampire senses told him the rest of the family had gone.

  She lifted her head when he entered the room, her nostrils flaring, a knowing look in the depths of her deep green eyes.

  Derek dropped onto the sofa across from her, folded his arms across his chest, stretched his legs out in front of him. And waited.

  “How was your evening?” she asked.

  Derek clenched his hands in an effort to hold on to his temper. “I’ve told you before. I don’t need a keeper.”

  She dismissed his objections with an airy wave of her hand. “I’m your mother. It’s my job to worry.”

  “What, exactly, are you worrying about?”

  “I still have enemies. Not all of them are dead, you know. None of them would hesitate to avenge themselves on me by destroying you.”

  He nodded, wondering if two of those enemies had been in the Den tonight, talking about her. “I’m a big boy. I think I can take care of myself.”

  “Perhaps.” She rose in a smooth, sinuous motion. “But you can’t blame me for worrying. After all, you are my only son.” She dropped a kiss on the top of his head. “And I’m not likely to have another. Good night.”

  He watched her walk toward the stairs; then, with a wry smile, he muttered, “I love you, too.”

  He grinned when she waved a hand to let him know she’d heard the words he spoke all too seldom. She might be proud, vain, sometimes annoying, often demanding, but there was no denying that he loved her more than words could say.

  Which made him more determined than ever to find out who was looking for her. And why.

  Knowing Logan was waiting for her, Mara put a little extra swing in her stride when she entered the bedroom, smiled smugly when her husband whistled under his breath. Although she had known him for centuries, her lust for him, her need for him, had never waned. Even when she’d told herself she didn’t love him, didn’t need him or any other man, it had been a lie.

  “Did you find out anything?” Throwing back the covers, he patted the space beside him, his eyes hot as she slipped out of her robe, revealing a diaphanous black gown that was little more than a whisper of silk.

  “No.” She slid into bed beside him, her body pressing against his.

  “You met the girl?”

  “Yes. She doesn’t know anything. She’s just a foolish little vampire groupie.”

  Logan laughed softly. “I guess she hit the mother lode.”

  Mara tossed her head. “I don’t want to talk about her or hunters, or wannabe vampires.”

  “No?” Wrapping her in his arms, he nuzzled her breasts. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “Nothing.” She traced the width of his shoulders, raked her fingers down his chest. He was a magnificent creature, with the physique of a Greek god and honest, deep-set brown eyes. She had turned him on a whim. Another man might have hated her for it, but not Logan. He had never bewailed the loss of his humanity. To the contrary, he had readily accepted his new way of life, and her, without reproach. She had always admired him for that.

  “Derek thinks you’re in danger.”

  Eyes flashing, Mara pushed him back on the bed and straddled his hips. “I said I don’t want to talk.”

  Throwing his arms out to the side in a gesture of feigned surrender, he grinned at her. “I’m all yours, woman. Have your wicked way with me.”

  Mara leaned forward, her hair falling around the two of them like a black velvet curtain. “That is exactly what I had in mind.”

  Chapter Six

  Pearl Jackson leaned back in her chair and swirled the wine in her glass. “I’m bored.”

  “You’re always bored,” Edna replied, refilling her own glass.

  “Well, can you blame me? It’s been years since we had any fun.” Pearl sipped her wine. “Do you ever wonder what happened to Mara’s baby? He’d be a grown man now. Do you think he turned into a vampire?”

  Edna shrugged. “I don’t know. What difference does it make?”

  “None, I guess. But aren’t you the least bit curious to know if he survived?”

  Edna stared at her friend. “What made you think of him after all this time?”

  “I don’t know, dear. I was just sitting here reminiscing about the past, thinking about how drastically our lives have changed.”

  Edna snorted. “Changed? That’s putting it mildly, don’t you think? If it hadn’t been for Rafe turning us, we’d both be long dead by now.”

  “True.” Pearl sighed. “I’d be a hundred and six and you’d be . . .”

  “Never mind! Age is a number, and mine is unlisted.”

  Pearl shook her head. “You always were secretive about your age. I never understood why. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “Maybe not, but saying it out loud . . .” Edna shook her head. “It just sounds so old. If I don’t say it, then I can pretend I’m still young.”

  “Well, then, I guess it’s a good thing you can’t see your face in a mirror!”

  Edna glared at her, then burst out laughing.

  After a moment, Pearl laughed, too. She and Edna Mae Turner had shared a room in the maternity ward in a Texas hospital decades ago. They had hit it off instantly and had been the best of friends, both as mortals and vampires, ever since.

  “So,” Edna said, wiping the tears from her eyes. “What do you want to do?”

  “Let’s go find Mara’s son.”

  “Are you out of your hundred-and-six-year-old mind? If Mara finds out we’re looking for him, you’ll never see a hundred and seven!”

  “Oh, pshaw. I’m sure she’s over it by now, dear.”

  “We helped Dr. Ramsden kidnap her son,” Edna said dryly. “Mothers don’t get over things like that.”

>   “Aren’t you the least bit curious to see if the boy went fanged or furry?”

  Edna frowned, then exclaimed, “Oh! His father’s latent werewolf gene!”

  “Exactly. Derek carries it, too.”

  “I wonder if he shifts during the full moon?” Edna wondered aloud.

  “Even if he does, I shouldn’t think it would be a big deal. I mean, vampires can already shape-shift,” Pearl said, and then frowned. “Vamp or wolf, how will we ever find him? We don’t know where he lives. Or if he’s even in the country. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. Damn, it was such a good idea, too!”

  “I know how to find him,” Edna said, warming to the idea.

  “You do?”

  “I drank from him, don’t you remember?”

  “That was years ago, dear, when he was a baby.” Pearl shifted in her chair, then crossed her ankles. “Why, he must be twenty-five or twenty-six by now. Do you think the bond is still effective?”

  “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “Well, you’ve never used it. I don’t know how long such a bond lasts when it’s just one-sided. I know it’s different if there’s a blood exchange.”

  “It could be a moot point,” Edna mused. “For all we know, the boy could be dead.”

  Pearl shook her head. “Always looking at the negative.”

  “I’m just being practical,” Edna retorted. “Do you think Mara knows about the werewolf gene?”

  “I doubt it, unless the boy’s shifted.” Pearl slapped her hand on her knee. “Come on, it will be an adventure. I’m tired of sitting around doing nothing. Even if we never find him, at least it’ll give us something to do. A purpose! A quest! Are you with me?”

  “Of course I am,” Edna retorted with a smug smile. “You won’t find him without me.” She paused a moment before saying, “We never did avenge Travis’s death.”

  Pearl nodded. Lou McDonald had destroyed Travis years ago. Pearl had fully intended to avenge her grandson’s death, but, what with one thing or another, it had never happened. But it wasn’t too late, she thought, grinning. Thanks to Rafe Cordova, if there was one thing she had plenty of, it was time.

  Chapter Seven

  As was her wont, Sheree slept late. On waking, she spent half an hour meditating, took a quick shower, and then went downstairs for breakfast.

  She had often thought of hiring a housekeeper, or maybe a chef. Or maybe both. But cooking and cleaning the house gave her something to do, and though her mother would never understand, Sheree found a certain satisfaction in knowing how to cook and keep house. Of course, once she got married, she would never have to lift a hand again, especially if she married a man of her mother’s choosing.

  Sheree pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear as she waited for her toast to pop up. She kept hoping her mother would stop her eternal matchmaking. In a letter received only a few days ago, her mother had touted her two latest choices: Ralph Upton, only son of a prominent surgeon and a successful lawyer who was on the fast track to becoming a millionaire in his own right, and Neil Somerset of the New York Somersets, who had recently invented a new and improved weapons system that was going to make his company richer than it was already.

  She shuddered. All the money in the world wouldn’t get her into bed with Neil, or Ralph, either.

  After buttering her toast, Sheree poured herself a glass of orange juice and sat at the table. She had met Ralph Upton at a benefit last year. Nothing her mother said would persuade her to consider him for a husband. As for Neil Somerset, he was a playboy, just like his father.

  In the living room, Sheree practiced her tai chi, her thoughts wandering to Derek. How did he spend his days? Was he thinking of her? Would he be at the club tonight? He hadn’t said anything about meeting again.

  Nevertheless, later that day she haunted the shops on Rodeo Drive looking for just the right outfit. She found it at her third stop: a pair of slinky red leather pants; a low-cut, see-through white sweater paired with a white tank top; and a pair of red, high-heeled sandals. She nodded as she looked at herself in the mirror. If this didn’t make Derek sit up and take notice, nothing would.

  Sheree glanced at the club’s entrance, then at her watch. It was after eleven. Time to call it a night. She felt suddenly foolish for sitting there waiting for Derek. Surely, if he had any interest in seeing her again, he would have been there by now. There was no denying she had been attracted to him. Had she read more into their meeting than was there?

  Just as she was about to leave two elderly women entered the club, a sort of female Mutt and Jeff, Sheree thought, grinning. One was tall with white hair, the other shorter with bright red hair. She had never seen two people who looked more out of place. They both wore long black skirts and brightly colored blouses. They had to be in their seventies, Sheree mused. What on earth were they doing in a place like this? Arm in arm, they circled the edge of the dance floor until they found an empty table.

  Slipping off the bar stool, Sheree settled her handbag over her shoulder, then headed for the door.

  And bumped into the very man she had been waiting for all night. “Derek!”

  “You’re not leaving, are you?” he asked.

  Pride and hurt feelings urged her to say yes and sweep past him. But there was nothing waiting for her at home. And she was all dressed up. . . .

  “Sheree?” He flashed her a megawatt smile. “I know we didn’t say anything about meeting tonight, but I was hoping you’d be here.”

  “I guess I have time for one drink,” she said, and hoped she didn’t sound too eager.

  “Great.” Taking her by the hand, he led her to a small table and held her chair. Whistling softly, he sat across from her. “You look terrific.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Is that a new outfit?”

  “This old thing? Heavens no, I’ve had it for hours.” Her shopping spree had cost her over eight hundred dollars, but when he smiled at her again, she considered it money well spent.

  “Sit tight,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

  Sheree smiled as she watched him thread his way through the crowd toward the bar. She couldn’t help noticing that several other women were also tracking him, including the two elderly women, who had their heads together. She would have given up her new Jimmy Choo’s to know what they were saying.

  Derek returned a short time later with their drinks.

  “Thank you.” Feeling as though she was being watched, Sheree glanced at the two old women again. They weren’t looking at her, but at Derek, an expression that looked almost like avarice in their eyes. “Do you know those two women?” she asked. “The ones in the brightly colored shirts?”

  “No,” he said. “Should I?” But even as he spoke the words, he had the strangest feeling that he should know the red-haired one.

  “They’ve been staring at you ever since you came in.” Not that she could blame them. He was gorgeous.

  Derek shrugged, his eyes narrowing as he realized the two women were vampires. “What do you say we blow this place and go for a drive?”

  “I don’t know. Where do you want to go?”

  “Just someplace where I can be alone with you.”

  Warning bells went off in the back of her mind. She hardly knew him, had no way of knowing if anything he had told her was true. He could be just another fortune-hunter. Heaven knew she had met more than her share.

  “Too soon to trust me?” he asked.

  “Maybe a little. I mean, I don’t even know your last name.”

  Nodding, he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and flipped it open to display his driver’s license.

  “Derek Blackwood,” she said, reading the details out loud. “Sex: male. Hair: black. Eyes: gray. Height: six feet two. Weight: one hundred eighty. Date of birth: October twenty-fifth,” she noted with a grin. “Almost a Halloween baby. It says here you live in Sacramento. What are you doing in L.A.?”

  “Visiting my parents. T
hey celebrated their twenty-fifth anniversary a few days ago. So, what about that drive?”

  Sheree opened her mouth, fully intending to refuse. Only the words that came out were, “Yes, I’d love it.”

  His car was parked at the curb—a sleek white sports car with black racing stripes and black leather seats. Unless he had borrowed the car, he really was rich. A top-of-the-line convertible like this one didn’t come cheap.

  He held the door for her, slid behind the wheel, and punched the ignition. She wasn’t surprised that he preferred to drive instead of programming the destination autodrive. She didn’t know him well, but she had already determined that he liked to be in control.

  It was a beautiful night. The sky was clear, dotted with millions of twinkling stars, glowing satellites, and a full moon.

  Derek drove the way he did everything: masterfully. It was a trait she found attractive. “Where are we going?”

  He shrugged. “No place in particular. It’s nice to breathe some air that’s just air.”

  “True.” Nosferatu’s Den was a high-class nightclub, but the combined scents of perspiration, liquor, and perfume were occasionally overpowering.

  A short time later, he pulled onto the freeway, headed toward Angelus Crest Highway. Sheree had been there before, during the day. It was a lovely ride, with a spectacular view. The air was filled with the fragrant scent of pines and earth. Some people claimed ghosts roamed the hills.

  They climbed steadily upward for a while, and then Derek pulled into one of the turnouts along the side of the road. After shutting off the engine, he got out, opened her door, and offered his hand.