He clenched his hands into tight fists, wondering if he had the strength to continue seeing her and not possess her. He knew, at the very core of his being, that their joining would be everything he dreamed of, everything he yearned for.
It would be so easy to take her blood, to bind her to him for all eternity, and end the awful loneliness of his existence, but he recoiled at the very idea of condemning her to the kind of life he led. To do so would be the worst kind of betrayal.
Leanne had brought joy back into his life, had drawn him out of the depths of despair and given him a reason to rise in the evening. To condemn her to a life in the shadows would be the worst kind of cruelty.
He should send her away now, before it became impossible, but even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew he would not do it. Soon, he thought, soon he would send her away, but not now, when he had just found her. He hoped only that he was strong enough to keep his accursed lust at bay, that there was enough humanity left in him to let her go when the time came.
He felt his whole body tense as the bedroom door opened. Without looking, he knew she was standing there, watching him. He could feel her gaze on his back, feel her confusion.
"Jason?"
"Go to bed, Leanne." He had not meant the words to sound so harsh.
He sensed her hesitation, her hurt, and then, very quietly, she closed the door.
With a sigh he dropped into his favorite chair and buried his face in his hands, hands that trembled with the need to hold her close, to feel the warmth of her in his arms, to breathe in the scent of her hair and skin. She was so alive, so vibrant—just holding her made him feel a little alive himself.
He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there, staring into nothingness, when he heard her cry out.
Chapter Six
Bolting from the chair, Jason ran into the bedroom, ready to do battle with Satan himself if need be. But there was no one in the room except Leanne, tossing restlessly on the bed.
Her hair spread across the pillows like chocolate silk. She'd thrown the covers off, and the gown's full skirt pooled around her thighs, offering him a beguiling glimpse of shapely calves.
Another cry was torn from her throat, and he saw a tear slip down her cheek.
Before he quite realized what he was doing, Jason was at her side, gathering her into his arms.
"Hush, love," he murmured. "It's only a dream, only a bad dream."
"Jason?"
"I'm here."
She burrowed her face into his shoulder. "It was awful," she said, her voice husky with sleep. "I was dreaming about tonight, but it was worse, much worse." She drew back, her gaze seeking his. "They shot you."
He shook his head. "No."
"Yes! I saw it so clearly. It couldn't have been a dream."
"But it was," he said reassuringly. "Look." He lifted his shirt so she could see his chest. "You see? No bullet holes."
"But I saw it, I heard the gunshots…"
He drew her head to his chest and rocked her gently. "Go back to sleep, Leanne. Everything's fine."
"Is it?" She rested her head against his chest and closed her eyes. "You feel so cold."
Unable to help himself, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, willing her to relax, to sleep, to forget.
"I love you, Jason," she murmured drowsily. "Please don't leave me again."
He closed his eyes, her words pouring over him like hot August sunshine. She loved him.
It was a dream come true.
It was his worst nightmare.
"Promise me," she whispered. "Promise you'll never leave me."
Ah, Leanne, my love, if you only knew what you were asking of me. If you only knew how your nearness torments and tempts me.
She pulled back a little so she could see his face, her eyes searching his. "You don't love me, do you?"
He looked away, unable to bear the sight of the pain that shimmered in the depths of her eyes. Love her, he thought, if only he didn't!
A single tear slipped down her cheek. It was his undoing.
"I do love you, Leanne." The words were wrenched from the depths of his soul. "Please, do not weep. I cannot bear the sight of your tears."
"You mean it?"
"I swear it by all that I hold dear."
"Oh, Jason!" She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, kissed him until they were both breathless.
She was fire and honey in his arms. All his senses came alive until he was drunk with the taste of her lips, the scent of her flesh, the sound of her whispered endearments. He felt his body grow hard. The need to nourish himself with the very essence of her life burned through him, as potent, as strong, as his desire for her flesh.
He groaned deep in his throat as her body molded itself to his. Her tongue laved the lobe of his ear, his neck; her hands explored the length and breadth of his back and shoulders, then boldly traced the outline of his thigh.
"Leanne." He caught her hands in his and willed his body to relax, knowing that in another moment his desire and his lust for blood would be impossible to control.
"It's all right," she said, her eyes shining with love and trust. "I want you to make love to me."
"I can't."
"Why?"
Why, why? What possible excuse could he give her? "I don't have any… any…" Hell's bells, what did they call those things, anyway?
"I don't care."
He summoned a tight smile. "I do."
"I don't have any diseases, Jason," she said quietly. "I've never been with a man before."
He felt his self-control hovering on the brink of collapse. "All the more reason why we should wait."
Maybe he was right, she thought, though she couldn't help being disappointed. Her mother had always taught her that good girls didn't "do it" until they were married. Her father, a wise and solemn man blessed with the gift of foresight, had warned her that, should she let herself be defiled before marriage, her life would be at great risk. When she had asked him to explain, he had taken her in his arms and told her that he'd had a most disturbing vision of her future, a vision in which he had seen her surrounded by darkness and danger, protected only by her innocence, and then he had warned her that, should she give herself to the wrong man, she risked the chance of being forever cursed.
Thinking of that now, she was ashamed of her own weakness and doubly grateful for Jason's self-control.
"If I promise to behave, do you think you could stay with me until I fall asleep?"
With a nod he drew the covers up to her chin, then sat beside her, her hand cradled in his.
She smiled up at him and then, tucking his free hand under her cheek, she closed her eyes.
He sat with her until he felt the nearness of a new day and then, regretfully, he left the room.
In the kitchen he wrote her a note, saying he had been called to work early, and that he'd see her that night after the show. He invited her to stay the day if she liked, or to take his car if she wished to go home. He dropped the keys on top of the note, and then, his steps growing heavier by the moment, he made his way down to the basement.
He closed the door behind him, slipped the bolt into place, then wrapped himself in the quilt and closed his eyes.
* * *
Leanne woke with a smile on her face. Jason loved her. She stretched, feeling as contented as a cat. He loved her.
And she couldn't wait to see him. Bounding out of bed, she hurried out of the room. She expected to find him in the kitchen, and when he wasn't there, she checked the other bedroom. It, too, was empty.
Shrugging, she went back into the kitchen. She'd fix something to eat, shower, and then go home. It was then she saw the note.
She read it quickly and then, clutching the slip of paper in her hand, she glanced around the kitchen. She had hoped to cook breakfast for Jason. It would have been the first day they spent together, and she wanted to share the morning with him before he went to work.
With an effort she sh
rugged off her disappointment. If she was going to be in love with a cop, this was the kind of thing she'd have to get used to. Policemen were on call twenty-four hours a day. They missed birthday parties, and Christmas morning, and anniversaries. They worked long hours for little pay. And these days, when law officers were being maligned and criticized more than ever, a cop needed the support of his loved ones.
Crossing the floor, she opened one of the cupboards. It was empty. So was the next one, and the next. Frowning, she opened the refrigerator. Nothing.
Leanne shook her head. She could understand if he never cooked, but she'd expected him to at least have coffee in the house, a loaf of bread, salt and pepper.
Puzzled, she went into the bedroom and opened the closet. It was reassuring, somehow, to see his clothes hanging there, to see several pairs of shoes and boots in a neat row on the floor.
After getting dressed, she wandered through the house again. There were no personal items to be found; no photos, no mementos. If not for his clothes and the hundreds of books in the den, she'd wonder if this were truly his house.
With a shake of her head she picked up his keys and left the house. He could answer her questions tonight; in the meantime, she had some shopping to do.
* * *
He felt her stirring in the house above. Even though he was trapped in the daylight sleep of death, he could feel her presence as she moved from room to room, feel her confusion when she realized there was nothing in the house to eat. He should have thought of that, but then, he hadn't planned to see her again, to bring her here again.
Leanne. Leanne. Her name whispered through the sluggishness of his mind. He yearned to go to her, but his body, held prisoner by the daylight, refused to obey. Trapped in darkness, he willed the sun to hurry across the sky.
* * *
Leanne stood in the wings, peeking out at the audience during intermission. She felt her heart skip a beat when she found him. He was sitting in the fifth row, center section.
How handsome he was! His dark jacket complimented his hair; the pale blue shirt brought out the color of his eyes. Her gaze moved lovingly over his face, the width of his shoulders. He seemed to be in a world apart as he sat there. People milled around, waiting for the second act, laughing and talking, making their way to the front to look into the orchestra pit. She saw several girls talking to the bassoon player. He was a nice guy, funny and outgoing, and seemed to know everyone.
She took her place behind stage as the house lights dimmed and the second act began. Soon, soon she'd be with him.
Jason sat forward, lost in the Phantom's anguish as he told Christine she must make a choice between himself and Raoul.
And then Christine's voice, pure and beautiful, filled the auditorium, her words of pity melting the hatred in the Phantom's heart.
He felt the aching loneliness that engulfed the Phantom as he watched Christine leave with Raoul, and he wondered what Leanne would do if she knew the man she loved was truly a creature of darkness. Would she look at him with loathing, the love in her clear, green eyes turning to revulsion? Would she flee from his presence, disgusted by the memory of his kisses?
He had felt the lingering sense of her presence when he left the basement earlier that night. Her scent had filled the empty rooms of his house. Her presence had been everywhere. She had placed vases of fresh flowers in the living room and kitchen, there was food in the refrigerator, food that he couldn't eat, and a bar of perfumed soap in the bathroom. She'd left a change of clothes on the bed in his bedroom, and a note that said she'd fix him a midnight snack after the show. He had found a rented video tape on top of the television.
A mirthless grin had curved his lips when he saw the title: Dracula starring Frank Langella. She seemed to have a fondness for vampire movies, he mused ruefully, and, though she didn't know it, for vampires, as well.
Now, sitting in the theater, listening to the applause that thundered through the auditorium as Davis Gaines received a standing ovation, Jason forced himself to admit that, just as the Phantom had let Christine go because he loved her, so he would have to let Leanne go. He could not hide his identity from her forever, and he did not trust himself to go on seeing her without hurting her, without turning her into a creature as wretched as himself.
Just one night, he thought. Let him have just one night to hold her and love her, and then he would let her go.
He lifted his gaze to the stage, focusing on her face as she stood in the background. Her eyes were bright, her lips parted in a smile that was his and his alone.
Just one night, he thought again, one night to last for eternity.
Heavyhearted, he left the theater and went to wait for her at the stage door.
Chapter Seven
Leanne ran up to him, bubbling with excitement. "Wasn't it great tonight?" she exclaimed. "Oh, I know, it's great every night, but sometimes it all seems so real, I forget it's just a play and find myself crying when the Phantom sends Christine away."
Jason nodded. He'd often felt that way himself.
Leanne threw her arms around Jason and kissed him. "Did you have a good day?"
"The same as always," Jason replied, and then, seeing the expectant look in her eyes, he smiled. "Thank you for the flowers and everything."
"I hope you don't mind."
"No." He took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze. "Let's go home."
Leanne hummed softly as they drove down the freeway, her hand resting on Jason's thigh, her gaze returning again and again to his profile. She loved the rugged masculine beauty of his face, the finely sculpted nose and lips, the strong square jaw, dark now with the shadow of a beard. His brows were thick and black above deep blue eyes, his cheekbones pronounced.
How had she fallen in love so quickly, so completely, with this man who was still a stranger in so many ways? She hardly knew him, and yet she felt as if she had always known him, as if her life had begun the night they met.
"Jason?"
He slid a glance in her direction. "What?"
"My folks would like to meet you."
The silence that followed her remark was absolute.
"Jason?"
"One day perhaps."
"How about next Sunday?"
"Leanne…"
"You don't want to, do you? Why not?"
"Surely you must have realized I'm a bit of a recluse when I'm not working."
"I know, but I'd really like them to meet you."
"I'll consider it."
"I'm sorry." She took her hand from his thigh, then looked out the window. "I didn't mean to push you, or make you think I was trying to…"
He muttered an oath as he pulled into the driveway and turned off the ignition. Getting out of the car, he opened the door for her, then drew her into his arms.
"I'm sorry, Leanne, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. Please, just give me some time." Just give me tonight. "Come," he said, taking her hand. "I have a surprise for you."
Inside, he lit a dozen long blue tapers. "Sit down," he said, "I'll only be a moment."
With a nod Leanne sank down on the sofa. Kicking off her shoes, she stared at the candles flickering on the mantel.
A few minutes later, Jason returned. Kneeling in front of the fireplace, he lit a fire, and then he joined her on the sofa.
"Here," he said, handing her a long, slender box. "This is for you."
She opened the box with hands that trembled, and uttered a gasp of astonishment as she stared at the contents. "Oh, Jason, it's lovely."
"You like it, then?"
"Oh, yes." She ran her fingertip over the heavy gold chain, then outlined the filigreed heart-shaped locket. "But it must have cost a fortune."
"Only a small one." He lifted the chain from the box and fastened it around her neck. The heart-shaped locket settled in the cleft between her breasts. "I'm glad you like it."
"I love it. And I love you."
Her gaze met his, filled with such adoration that it made
him want to shout, to sing. To weep. "Leanne, beloved…" He cupped her cheek in his hand and kissed her gently.
"More," she whispered, and twining her arms around his neck, she kissed him passionately, her body pressing to his, inviting him to come closer.
Her nearness, the wanting he read in her eyes, made his pulse race with desire. Too fast, he thought, they were moving too fast. If he was to have only this one night, he wanted to savor every moment.
Leanne drew back, her eyes aglow. "Tell me," she whispered. "Tell me you love me."
"I love you."
"Have you loved many women?"
"No. Only one other."
"Who?"
"A girl from my childhood. She's dead now."
"Oh, I'm sorry."
"It happened a long time ago."
He gazed into her eyes, longing to bury his hands in the wealth of her hair, to carry her to bed, and sheathe himself in the velvet heat of her all the night long—but he dared not. He would make love to her only once, just before dawn, and then he would let her go.
It took every ounce of willpower he possessed to keep from touching her. "Shall we watch your movie?"
"If you like. Have you seen it before?"
"No."
"You'll love it."
Jumping up, she slipped the tape into the VCR, then snuggled up against Jason, her head pillowed on his shoulder.
Langella made a most convincing vampire, Jason thought. Indeed, the movie hit close to home. Too close. He felt his desire for Leanne surge through him, along with a ravening thirst, as he watched Count Dracula seduce his lady love amidst a shimmering crimson backdrop while a bat hovered overhead.
A bat. He'd never changed into a bat in all his three hundred years; indeed, he didn't know if he could.
He felt his whole body tense as Dracula made a slit in his chest and offered Lucy a taste of his blood.
After Twilight Page 4
