Night's Promise

by Amanda Ashley

  The worst nightmare had been the last, when Derek—his body twisted into some grotesque creature that was half vampire and half werewolf—tied her to the bed and then invited Mara, Logan, and the two elderly vampires to come in and drink their fill.

  Sitting up, bracing her back against the headboard, Sheree wrapped her arms around her waist. What if the serum would have worked? Maybe it would have cured Derek of being both vampire and werewolf, giving them a chance for a normal life together. Last night, disposing of the serum had seemed like the right thing to do. Why did it feel so wrong now, when the serum was gone and it would take weeks to make a new batch?

  Telling herself that she was worrying for nothing, that everything would be all right, she glanced to her left, where Derek lay sleeping beside her. Propped on one elbow, she let her gaze move over him. For a man who was supposed to be dead and didn’t spend hours at the gym, he had a remarkable physique, one she never tired of looking at. Or touching.

  He stirred when she slid her fingertips over his chest, opened one eye when she licked his navel.

  “Is there something you want, wife?” he asked.

  “Maybe.”

  “Well, make up your mind,” he said, yawning.

  “You don’t seem very interested,” she retorted.

  “Don’t I?” He gestured at the sheet, tented over his groin. “Does that look like I’m not interested?”

  Flinging the sheet aside, she straddled his hips, then leaned down to kiss him, her bare breasts grazing his chest.

  “Now that’s worth staying awake for.” He slid his hands up and down her back. “Oh, yeah,” he said, nipping her earlobe. “I could get used to waking up to this.”

  Sheree smiled and wriggled against him, the movement eliciting a low groan of pleasure from Derek. But she couldn’t silence the little voice in the back of her mind that whispered this might be the last morning they ever spent together.

  It was early evening when Sheree tiptoed downstairs. After taking a few steps, she chided herself for trying to be quiet in a castle full of vampires. If they were awake, they could hear every beat of her heart, every breath she took. For all she knew, they could even hear her when they were at rest.

  The place was eerily silent as she made her way into the kitchen and rummaged around for something to eat, only to find that she had no appetite. She couldn’t think of anything but Derek. What would happen at moonrise? Had it been a mistake to beg him not to take the serum? What if something terrible happened because she had talked him out of it?

  She hadn’t known her vampire very long, but she couldn’t imagine her life without him.

  Too restless to sit still, she wandered around the great hall, studying the tapestries. They were huge, hanging from the ceiling to the floor, some almost as wide as the walls. One depicted a hunting scene, the other a bloody battle. She wondered how old they were, and who had made them, and who, if anyone, had owned the ancient castle before Mara.

  Moving to one of the narrow, leaded windows, she stared outside. Raindrops splashed against the window, blurring the view. But it didn’t matter. There was little to see but dark clouds and trees swaying in the wind.

  Where was Mara? Why did the castle seem more quiet than usual? Had they all gone home and left her behind?

  She shook the thought aside. No doubt they were all at rest.

  “We need to talk.”

  Sheree whirled around, startled by the vampire’s silent entrance. One look at Mara’s face and it was obvious she knew what had happened the night before.

  “Why?” Mara asked, her green eyes as cold as glass. “Why would you do such a thing?”

  “If you know what I did, then you must know why.”

  “We’re all afraid,” Mara said, her expression softening. “Pearl and Edna are in fear for their lives, certain I’ll destroy them if the serum doesn’t work. Derek is afraid of becoming a true monster, unable to control himself. You’re afraid of losing him.”

  “What are you afraid of?”

  The vampire glanced at the fireplace; a moment later, a cheery fire crackled in the hearth. Sheree stared at it curiously. Vampires didn’t feel the heat or the cold, so what use did Mara have for a fire?

  “I like the sight of the flames,” Mara remarked. “As for what I’m afraid of, I’m afraid of losing my son. I’m afraid that the war going on inside him might warp his mind, that he’ll become the very thing he’s afraid of, and I’ll have to destroy him.”

  “You would do that? Destroy your own son?”

  “If it becomes necessary.” Mara stared at Sheree, her expression implacable. “If what you’ve done harms him in any way . . .”

  The vampire didn’t have to finish the sentence. Sheree heard the threat in Mara’s voice. She had no doubt that her own life would be forfeited if anything happened to Derek.

  Chilled to the bone and unable to think of a reply, Sheree left the hall. Her legs were shaky as she climbed the stairs to the bedroom she shared with Derek. She had expected to find him asleep, but he was sitting up, his back braced against the rosewood headboard.

  “She had no right to threaten you like that,” he remarked, holding out his arms.

  “It wasn’t a threat,” Sheree said, hastening into his embrace. “It was a promise.” She glanced out the window, wondering what the night would bring.

  “Don’t worry, love. I won’t let her hurt you.” His breath brushed her cheek as he folded her into his embrace.

  Nodding, she snuggled against him. Derek would protect her against his mother and anyone else, with his life, if necessary. She knew that without a doubt.

  But what if he wasn’t there?

  “She did what?” Hands spread in a gesture of disbelief, Pearl stared at Mara. “Why would she pour it out? Does she realize how long it will take to make more?”

  “It’s a matter of trust,” Logan said.

  “She doesn’t trust me?” Pearl sniffed, obviously offended. “I’m only trying to help.”

  Logan glanced at Mara, surprised by her silence. “We know that,” he said. “But Sheree’s experience with vampires is limited. I know Mara told her about the two of you, and what went on during the war, when you were trying to cure the supernatural community. All things considered, it’s easy to understand why Sheree isn’t in any hurry for Derek to become another of your failed experiments.”

  Pearl threw up her hands in exasperation. “They didn’t all fail!”

  Logan nodded. Two of their subjects had reverted to being human without any apparent side effects.

  “Pearl worked extremely hard on the new serum,” Edna said, somewhat indignantly. “We both did. And to see all those hours of work wasted . . .” She shook her head, her eyes flashing red.

  “Do you have any more?” Mara asked.

  Pearl shook her head. “No. So, what do we do now?”

  “Whatever you want,” Mara said. “I’ll be in touch if we need you again.”

  “But . . .” Edna looked to Pearl for help.

  “Enough!” Mara’s voice cracked like a pistol shot. “Be gone, both of you!”

  Before Edna could argue, Pearl grabbed her friend by the hand. “Let’s go, dear,” she said, and whisked her out of the castle.

  “I can’t help but echo the old broad’s words,” Logan drawled. “What now?”

  “We do as planned. We’ll lock Derek in the dungeon and keep Sheree away from him, and hope for . . .” Mara whirled around as Sheree ran into the hall.

  Sheree skidded to a halt, one hand pressed to her heart. “He’s gone!”

  “Gone?” Mara sent an anxious glance at Logan, then looked back at Sheree. “Gone where?”

  “I don’t know! One minute we were talking and the next I was alone.”

  Logan glanced at the window. “The moon hasn’t even risen yet.”

  “Where would he go?” Sheree asked, worry for her own safety swallowed up in her concern for Derek.

  “I don’t know.” Mara l
ifted her head, scenting the air. “He’s not in the castle.”

  “But you can find him, can’t you?” Sheree asked anxiously.

  Logan looked at his wife askance. “Can you?”

  “Of course!” Mara snapped.

  “Whoa, girl,” he said, his voice harsher than Sheree had ever heard it. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.” Mara cocked her head to the side. “He’s hunting in town.”

  Sheree bit down on her lower lip. Why had he gone to town on this, of all nights? It wasn’t safe for the people there. It wasn’t safe for him.

  There had been numerous stories about werewolves circulating through the towns and villages since Derek had attacked the farmer. People from one end of the country to the other were suddenly reporting sightings of werewolves. Curfews had been set. Parents hurried their children inside as soon as the sun went down. Rewards were being offered for the head of the creature. Numerous large dogs and feral wolves had been killed by spooked citizens.

  Sheree sank onto the sofa, her worry for her husband increasing with every passing moment. Unable to shake off a growing sense of doom, she rose and began to pace the floor.

  “What’s wrong?” Mara asked, quickly picking up on Sheree’s distress.

  “I don’t know.” Sheree went to the window and stared into the darkness. Where was he? “What if there are other werewolves out there?” Older, stronger? “What if . . . ?”

  “There’s nothing to worry about,” Mara assured her. “Last time I was here, the vampires had chased all the werewolves out of the country.”

  “What about all the stories of recent sightings?”

  “Fear mongering,” Mara said, but she sounded less certain than before.

  Logan moved up behind his wife and slid his arms around her waist. “Maybe we should go look for him.”

  Mara leaned against him. “Not yet. For now, we wait.”

  “If you don’t mind,” Sheree said. “I think I’ll wait in my room.”

  Mara dismissed her with a wave of her hand.

  “Don’t leave the castle,” Logan warned.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t,” Sheree assured him. She ran up the stairs, tears stinging her eyes. Why had Derek left so abruptly? Why hadn’t he told her where he was going? Why hadn’t he taken her with him?

  Frightened for Derek, she paced the floor, then threw herself onto the bed and buried her face in his pillow. His scent filled her nostrils, reminding her of every minute they had spent together—nights filled with passion, the sound of his voice whispering that he loved her, the surprisingly sensual pleasure of his bite, the strength of his arms around her, the sheer wonder of what he was.

  Sheree.

  She lifted her head at the sound of his voice. “Derek? Derek, are you all right?”

  I need you.

  Where are you?

  Near where we dumped the serum. Come alone. Hurry!

  How will I get out of the castle without being seen?

  Go down the back stairs at the end of the corridor, turn right, and go out through the kitchen. Hurry, love.

  Spurred by the urgency in Derek’s voice, Sheree hurried out of her room and down the old stone stairway once used by castle servants.

  She paused at the back door. What was she doing, rushing out into the night to meet Derek when the moon was rising?

  Sheree? His voice was filled with pain, touched with panic.

  How could she refuse when he obviously needed her?

  Taking her courage in hand, she stepped outside.

  The rain had turned to mist. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Her enemy, the moon, peeked through the lowering clouds.

  As fast as she could, she made her way up the side of the mountain. She was panting by the time she reached the top.

  Derek was waiting for her. Even in the dark, she could see the shiny wet stain on the front of his shirt.

  “You’re hurt!”

  “Yeah. Dammit!” Grabbing her by the waist, he shoved her to the ground. “They’re coming!”

  “Who?”

  “Hunters! Shit! Stay down!”

  Heart pounding, Sheree pressed herself to the ground. She had expected Derek to drop down beside her. She glanced up when she heard him groan, felt her eyes widen as he began to transform in front of her.

  Murmuring, “No, oh, no,” she watched in horror as he dropped to his hands and knees, his body writhing, stretching as bones popped and ligaments realigned themselves. His clothes shredded, exposing the thick black fur sprouting from his skin.

  Throwing back his head, he howled in pain as he fought against the change.

  The heart-wrenching howl, the sight of Derek caught between human and werewolf, sent chills racing down Sheree’s spine.

  “Up there!” A man’s shout cut through the night. “I see him!”

  No, Sheree thought, her blood turning to ice. Oh, no, please no!

  Caught in the throes of the change, the werewolf snarled at the three heavily armed men closing in on him.

  In fear for Derek’s life, Sheree sprang to her feet. Waving her arms, she ran forward, shouting, “Don’t shoot!”

  The men hesitated at her unexpected appearance.

  “What the hell!” exclaimed one of the hunters.

  And then time warped and everything seemed to happen in slow motion.

  The werewolf sprang toward the nearest hunter. The man cried out as the werewolf’s jaws clamped around his throat. Shaking the man as if he were a rag doll, the wolf hurled him into the shadows.

  At the hunter’s scream, the other two men opened fire, shooting blindly.

  Sheree reeled backward as something slammed into her with the force of a sledge hammer. She stared in horror at the dark stain spreading across her middle. Had she been shot? Why didn’t it hurt, she wondered, as, fighting a wave of nausea, she sank to the ground.

  Moments later, Logan and Mara appeared.

  Mara jerked the weapon from one hunter. Logan disarmed the other. Not wanting to see the fate of the two men, Sheree closed her eyes.

  Voices. Low. Worried. Frantic.

  The sound of bones popping.

  Derek’s voice, calling her name.

  Why did he sound so far away? Why couldn’t she open her eyes?

  “Sheree! Sheree! Dammit, Logan, she’s dying.”

  Dying? Was he talking about her?

  “Sheree, love, don’t leave me!”

  It took every ounce of what little strength she had left to open her eyes. Derek was leaning over her, his beautiful dark eyes wet with tears. Mara and Logan stood behind him, faces grave.

  “I’m sorry,” Derek whispered hoarsely. “I never should have asked you to come out here.”

  She tried to say that it was all right, that she loved him, but she couldn’t form the words. She whimpered, her hands clutching at her stomach as the numbness wore off. Darkness hovered around her, beckoning her, promising peace, an end to pain. Her eyelids fluttered down.

  “Sheree! Dammit, don’t leave me!”

  “She’s almost gone.” Mara’s voice, tinged with regret.

  “No!” Derek’s tears dripped onto Sheree’s cheeks. “No! I won’t lose her. I can’t.”

  “Are you sure this is the right thing to do?” Logan asked. “Have you ever discussed it?”

  “Would she want this?” Mara asked dubiously.

  “I don’t know. I don’t care!” Choking back a sob, Derek whispered, “Forgive me, love,” and sank his fangs into her throat.

  He drank deeply. Torn by guilt, he drank it all—her thoughts, her memories, her hopes and fears. Her love for him.

  When she was but a heartbeat away from death, he tore into his own wrist. Pressed the bleeding wound to her mouth. And pleaded with her to drink.

  At first, there was no response. And then she swallowed.

  Weak with relief, he closed his eyes and prayed.

  Prayed that she would find it in her heart to forgive him for stealing her mo
rtality and replacing it with endless night.

  Chapter Forty

  Darkness surrounded Sheree, deeper and blacker than anything she had ever known. Her body felt light, alien, as if she could, merely by thinking it, float toward the ceiling. Sounds assaulted her ears—familiar sounds, yet magnified until they were almost painful. Her hand moved restlessly over the blanket that covered her; without thinking, she counted each individual stitch while a distant part of her mind wondered how she could do such a thing.

  There was someone nearby. His scent was all around her, comforting in a way she couldn’t explain.

  “Sheree?”

  “Derek? Where are you?”

  “I’m right here. Open your eyes, love.”

  She did as he asked, and quickly closed them against the candle’s brilliant light. “Hurts.”

  “You’ll get used to it.”

  “What’s wrong with me? Why do I feel so strange?”

  “You were badly wounded last night. Do you remember?”

  “There were hunters. . . .”

  “Yes. What else do you remember?”

  “You were shot. You called me to you.”

  “That’s right. I was wounded. Hurting. I . . .” He swore under his breath. “I needed blood. I didn’t realize the hunters were so close, or I never would have called you.”

  “It’s all right.” She smiled weakly. “I’m fine.”

  “Open your eyes, love.”

  Squinting, she glanced around the room. It was the bedroom she shared with Derek, yet it looked different somehow. She saw details she had never noticed before—the hairline crack in the ceiling above the bed, the individual threads in the hangings, each brushstroke in the whitewashed walls. Derek stood beside the bed, darkly handsome in a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt.

  She sat up, her gaze fixed on Derek’s face. Even he looked different. “What’s wrong with me? Am I on drugs?”

  He laughed softly. “In a way.”

  Her gaze darted toward the door. “Your mother’s coming,” she said, and frowned. How did she know that? Mara walked without making a sound.

  A moment later, Mara stepped into the room. “How are you feeling, Sheree?”