by Bonnie Vanak
Relishing the stinging spray on her face, Sarah began to hunt for sea glass. The simple pleasure washed away the hurt of Cameron’s rejection, the uncertainty about being Adrian’s captive. Something in the water caught her eye. Fish, jumping and leaping in the water, grayish moonlight glinting off their silvery scales. Suddenly the water began to churn.
Sarah backed off instinctively, drawing closer to the cliffs. The boiling mass in the ocean swam closer. Her blood ran cold as an explosion of white, sightless crabs spilled onto the shore.
Morphs.
Don’t panic. She forced concentration, dragged in their scent. Morphs could mask their scent, but a skilled Draicon could detect a faint trace of their original packs. These were clones. Not as powerful, but still deadly. Oh, sweet mercy, they were coming after her.
Do something!
Sarah ran. She could hear them closing up behind her, their claws eager to snap at her flesh. Panic squeezed her throat. She forced it down, whirled. Both knives came out with practiced ease. See them as they really are, they’re evil, they’re killers.
Thoughts of Adrian loaned her strength as she remembered how he’d fearlessly engaged them. Shoulders thrown back, she screamed, “You can’t do this to me anymore. Come on and fight me, bastards.”
The mass of Morphs shape-shifted. Nausea boiled in her stomach.
“Oh, rats,” she muttered.
A mass of dark rodents streamed toward her. Holding out the knives, she stood ready to pounce. They ground to a halt a few feet away. Dark power shimmered in the air as a rat shifted to a human form. A sob wrenched her throat.
It was a clone, an exact imitation of someone who’d loved her. The one person she’d sworn to never, ever forsake.
“Sarah,” it whispered into the night wind.
It shifted again, the face contorting, body twisting. Sarah lowered her weapons.
“Why?” she asked brokenly.
Something rushed past her like a spinning tornado. She caught Adrian’s tangy scent. In helpless anguish, she stood as if her feet were nailed to the pebbled sand. Movement blurred the air as the vampire killed the Morphs. One shifted into its true form, a hunched creature with yellow fangs, a red, wet twist of a mouth yawning wide-open.
In the blink of an eye, Adrian stabbed it in the heart. The Morph gave a dying shriek and dissolved into thick, gray ash.
Wind spun the dust of her dead enemies into a cloud. Something was clattering violently. Her teeth.
Adrian glided over, clasped her wrists, making her drop the knives. He gently rubbed her arms. “Are you all right? Did they hurt you?”
She shook her head.
“Sarah, why didn’t you defend yourself?”
Wordlessly, she stared downward. Shame covered her like a wet blanket of fog. She could not voice her darkest fear. Not to him.
He pulled her against his muscular chest.
She collapsed against him, cherishing the feel of his arms drawing tightly around her. For the first time in years, she felt safe. He stroked her hair, each caress a soothing rhythm that settled her raging nerves.
Adrian rested his forehead against hers. “I told you I could handle them,” he murmured. “You have nothing to fear.”
Letting him this close was dangerous. He could break her heart and it would hurt worse than a thousand lacerations from a legion of Morphs. Sarah jerked away. “Yes, I do.” You.
Wearily, she pushed back the hair from her face. “These were scouts, flushing out my scent. The original is hiding in the shadows, waiting to amass any weaknesses in your territory before it attacks.”
Damn, she was tired. No sustenance since she’d left Terrence’s pack. Combined with the silver bracelet draining her energy, she felt ready to drop.
As she turned to leave, her bad leg seized up. Stifling a cry, she pitched forward as her vision went gray.
Chapter 4
A drian swore a low oath. Lifting her in his arms, he carried her into the living room. Her soft body felt good cradled against him. He laid her on one of the leather couches.
Her complexion was too pale, her cheeks looked slightly sunken. She needed food.
Covering her with a forest-green throw, he returned to the kitchen. Adrian opened the refrigerator. Nothing. There was a thick steak in the freezer. He placed it in the microwave.
While waiting for the beef to defrost, he perched on the sofa. Long, dark eyelashes brushed against the pale hollows of her cheeks. Her rosebud mouth was slightly open. Adrian stroked hair away from her face. When had she grown so thin and pale? The Sarah he knew was healthy, curvy and filled with laughter.
Pulled irresistibly by desire, he leaned close. He, the vampire who could have any female in his bed, had not taken a lover since the day Sarah walked into his life. She had waltzed in and stolen his heart as easily as she’d captured his friendship. Eleven years ago Sarah had boldly ignored the dividing lines between vampire and Draicon. She’d knocked on the door of his North Carolina beach home, asking for permission to hunt on his private lands during the full moon. Deeply curious about the lovely Draicon, Adrian had granted it, and had spent the night watching Sarah chase prey and then frolic in the churning, silver-splashed surf. When she’d shape-shifted back into her human form and thanked him, they’d started joking together about old, campy Hollywood vampire and werewolf films.
The microwave dinged, interrupting his thoughts. A few minutes later he carried a plate of rare roast beef to the living room. He waved it beneath her nose.
“Wake up, Sarah. You need food.”
Slowly she opened her eyes and sat. Her nostrils flared as she saw the fresh meat.
Adrian sensed her deep pride fighting with the ravenous hunger. He set the plate down on the coffee table and walked to the window.
Soon as he did, he heard her quietly gulp down the meal. His heart ached. When had she last eaten? What the hell had become of her?
Why should he care? He hated to admit he still did.
He could not afford to care. After dispatching her enemy, he must send her on her way. Arms folded, he stared into the darkness. Any desire he had for Sarah must be controlled. Adrian was his father’s heir, and no one would stand between him and his clan ever again.
Adrian studied the shadows. He spoke over his shoulder. “I’ll place safeguards around the property to protect you.”
“They’ll find a way inside. Even your powers can’t stop them.”
His temper flared at the insinuation he was weak, but he held his anger. “I doubt it. You have no idea of the full extent of my powers,” he murmured. “But it’s obvious they’ve grown stronger. The new tricks they learned include cloning themselves and shifting faster.”
“They prefer attacking as wolves, the original Draicon form. Takes less energy. They shift into their true Morph form to feed.”
“I remember that. What else should I expect?”
The plate clanked down. “Everything. Everything beyond your darkest dreams, your worst nightmares.” She added quietly, “Or mine.”
Something inside him twisted at her pain. He wanted to pull her into his sheltering embrace, let her rest there. Eradicate everything she’d felt the past years, and restore the wide smile she’d once always worn. Fisting his hands, he steeled himself against the temptation. But he must know why she abandoned him.
Adrian sat beside her on the sofa. “Why did you leave me, Sarah? Was it to save your own skin? Tell me.”
Damn, he hated to use his enthrallment, the command in his voice no one, not even a stubborn Draicon, could resist. But he must find out, so they both could move on.
“Never. I would have died with you. I had to get home, save her.”
“Save who, Sarah?” he demanded.
“I knew what was happening, I was stupid, ignored the danger signals, I didn’t want to believe it…my mother, screaming…”
The sob wrenched from her throat stabbed his heart. He waved a hand before her face. “Hush,” he soothed.
“You will sleep tonight, sleep well and remember only pleasant memories.”
She blinked. Her hand slid over his, the warmth of her skin flooding him with the need to touch her further. Adrian stared down at her fingers encircling his. He lifted her work-scarred knuckles and kissed each one.
Contact sizzled between them. A fierce longing seized him. Couldn’t help the wanting, the deep need to bury his body and his fangs deep inside her, so deep she could never get rid of him, would always carry his scent, the imprint of his passion. He wanted all of her, the Sarah who had laughed with him, bravely faced her enemies, the woman whose laughter sounded like the pealing of tiny silver Christmas bells.
He could not have her. Adrian dropped her hand.
“Go to bed,” he said, retreating back to the window.
“I never like to be in debt to anyone,” she told him. “If I’m to stay here, then I insist on paying my way.”
Adrian turned and studied her clean but threadbare clothing, her slender shoulders stiff with dignity. Sarah could not pay him. But he knew well the importance of maintaining one’s pride.
“Take charge of the delivery of fresh blood tomorrow from my private blood bank and stock the refrigerator. When I rise, have a bottle warmed and ready. That will suffice for payment.”
As he heard her murmur good-night, he did not voice the other payment his heart longed for with all his might.
And kiss me, Sarah. Kiss me and let me hold you in my arms, and shut away the weary world.
Chapter 5
S arah snapped awake in the darkness. The digital clock on the nightstand read 3:00 p.m. She switched on a lamp. Adrian had shuttered the windows against the glaring sunlight.
Last night, she’d called her father, trying to reassure him all was well and she’d experienced a slight delay. But he didn’t buy it. If she weren’t home two days before Christmas, he would fetch her himself.
A shower cleared her muzzy head. Afterward, she sorted through her battered suitcase for fresh clothing, selecting a powder-blue turtleneck and faded jeans.
Except she couldn’t find her good bra.
A loud thud sounded. Outside, someone was having target practice.
She went downstairs.
Sunlight beamed through the mansion’s lower floor. Adrian had thoughtfully left all the shutters open, either for her or his gremlin friends. She peered through the French doors.
Her heart went still, then anger raced through her. Sarah grabbed her worn sheepskin jacket and raced outside. Her breath fogged the crisp winter air. Ice crystals formed on overhanging tree limbs. New snow blanketed the grounds, the brightness of the day nearly hurting her eyes.
“Hey, stop it!”
With military precision, the six green gremlins had lined up Adrian’s antique cannonballs. In the distance was a dummy. Two gremlins stretched out her white garment on either side, as a third placed two cannonballs inside. A fourth pulled it back like a slingshot.
“Incoming!” the gremlin bellowed, sending the balls flying toward the dummy.
They were using her bra as a launcher. Her one good bra she’d bought in a half-price sale at Macy’s.
Sarah raced forward, snatched it from their startled grasp. “That’s mine,” she snapped.
“We’s need it for target practice,” the shortest protested. “It was the only thing that fit the ammo.”
“Get your own,” she grated out, staring in dismay at the stretched garment. Rust smeared the pretty white satin.
“In any war, there’s sacrifices,” the tallest stated. He peered up at her. “Adrian said there was a battle, and we’s should prepare to remove the heads of the enemy.”
Sarah wished she could take off their heads. “By fighting with my bra. Oh, that’s rich. Adrian said your magick was powerful. I’d be better off guarded by the Three Stooges.”
White sparks of power filled the air, nearly knocking her off her feet. Her gaze swiveled to the target. She stared at the smashed dummy, blown to bits by the burst of energy zinging from the gremlin’s fingertips.
“Then again,” she murmured.
The tallest gremlin blew at his index finger as if it were a smoking pistol. He extended a green palm toward her. “Introductions are necessary. Our mother always said we’s shouldn’t act as if we’s was raised in a barn…”
“Even though we’s were,” another chimed in.
She shook the proffered hands. Snark was the tallest, followed by his brothers, Trip, Grimace, Wedgie, Short and the smallest was 404.
“Named after the computer error message,” 404 told her.
Wedgie grinned, showing rows of pointed teeth. “Adrian said last night you had a bad case of crabs.”
Laughter bubbled up in her chest. She tossed the bra back at them. “Here. I have another. Besides, it’s ruined now. One question. Why did you dress me in polyester when you turned me into a doll?”
Grimace looked surprised. “We’s thought it would drain your magick. We’s used gloves, because it drains our magick. We’s terrified of it.”
“Makes sense,” she murmured. “It scares me, too.”
She glanced at the gray shingled home, sitting on the cliffs in aloof splendor as it overlooked a gray sea. Soon it would be turned into a battle zone. Her chest felt hollow with regret as she thought of Adrian dying on the beach, his clan silently waiting for him to call for help.
If I had only known….
Sarah turned her face to the sun. Light was her friend, for Morphs couldn’t use the shadows to hide. It was Adrian’s enemy, and had burned his flesh. If only she could take back that day.
When she went inside, the gremlins followed. She looked at them. “What are you doing?”
Trip looked surprised. “We keep Adrian’s home safe during the day and Adrian told us to make sure to guard you, as well.”
His edict touched her. No one had seen to her needs in a long time.
No one would again, after Adrian released her. As Sarah shrugged out of her jacket, a soft chime at the front door reminded her of the promise she’d made. After signing for the collection of blood, she unpacked the cold case and stocked the bottles in Adrian’s glass wine refrigerator.
The gremlins watched in silence. She turned to them. “How did you know it was me when you were in town?”
Snark looked impish. “Come with us.”
They led her to a dark study upstairs, switched on an overhead light. A massive mahogany desk and matching credenza dominated the room. On the desk sat an LCD computer screen.
“Adrian’s computer. He keeps tabs on all his businesses from here,” Short told her.
Grimace slid into the black leather chair, pushed a button on a slim tower sitting beneath the desk. The gremlin shot his brother an accusing look. “404, have you been playing games on the computer again?” He pointed to the blue screen.
“Oops,” came the reply.
Snark sniffed. “Short, nothing more.”
Short went beneath the desk, fiddled with cables. “This may take a few minutes.”
The clock indicated it was nearly sunset. Adrian would soon rise and be hungry. While the gremlins worked on the computer, Sarah fetched a bottle of blood. She warmed it in the kitchen and placed it on the counter for Adrian.
When she returned to the study, the computer was finally powering up. Grimace tapped a few keys. “This is how we knew who you were,” he told her as the computer kicked into screen-saver mode.
Breath fled her lungs.
A face stared at her from the screen. A face she barely recognized, molded into a laugh, eyes sparkling with life, the dark hair shining in the sun’s setting rays. Beneath the photo was a caption: Sarah Roberts, sunset on the beach.
Adrian put her photo on the computer.
Sarah’s finger traced the digitized cheek. Had she been that happy? She’d forgotten.
Adrian had not.
404 peered at the screen. “Where is this?”
“North Carolina. W
e were walking on the shore. Adrian insisted on testing his new camera. He said I was more photogenic than…”
“The prettiest sunset.”
The deep velvet voice came from the doorway. She turned. Fascination stole over her as she realized Adrian wore only black silk pajama bottoms. Never before had he exposed to her so much luscious, tanned skin. Broad, sculpted shoulders rippled with muscles. Muscles ridged his flat abdomen. She stared in fascination at his smooth chest, wondering what it would feel like beneath her exploring fingertips.
Her gaze flicked up, saw him studying her with dark intensity. She turned away, feeling heat flare on her cheeks.
“Your dinner, or breakfast, is in the kitchen,” she mumbled.
But he went to her, gently snagged her wrist. “Come with me. I hate to eat alone.”
She followed him to the kitchen. Adrian grabbed the bottle of blood, poured a glass and drank. Sarah watched in fascination as his throat muscles worked.
Suddenly he spewed out the contents. “Warm, unsweetened cherry Kool-Aid!” He gagged.
“I filled the bottle with blood just as you asked!” Sarah tensed, expecting him to yell.
Stunned, she watched him wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, throw back his head and laugh. Her appreciative gaze hungrily drank in his powerfully muscled body, the smooth firmness of his chest, the black satin pajama bottoms clinging to his long, athletic limbs.
Filled with amusement, those sunny blue eyes glanced at her. “The gremlins. I should have known. They’ve done this before, and I told them they would never pull this one on me again. They can’t resist a challenge.”
“Put a lock on the refrigerator,” she suggested.
“Tried that. They ate the lock. Said it was delicious.”
Together they burst into laughter. When they finally ceased, Sarah felt wistful for the emotional connection they’d shared—the vampire and the werewolf who liked to watch old movies and discuss books and theater.
