“Then it's your brother who is missing you?”
I have to grin.
“Come on.” I get him to follow me to the entrance, and I hold my hat to my head with one hand as we go because there's a strong wind today.
Wilson opens the door for us before I can even ring the bell, and he is beaming.
“Miss Álvarez, how lovely to see you looking so well. Unfortunately, your brother isn't home. He asked me to let you know he doesn't expect to be home till tomorrow morning.”
“Thank you, Wilson.” Smiling, I pass the hat and scarf to him and gesture to Noah.
“This is Mr. Sandman. He'll be a guest in our house.”
Wilson greets the man by my side with a polite but reserved nod.
“Actually, you can head off for the day.”
“Are you sure you don't need me anymore today?” His voice sounds a little doubtful.
“Absolutely Wilson. Have a nice evening. Tomorrow we'll have a good talk about this Mr. . . .”
“Daniels,” Wilson reminds me with that prim expression of his.
He almost looks sulky, but then he gives a restrained nod, says goodbye and leaves the house.
“Come on.” I take Noah's hand and pull him into the kitchen, heading straight for the fridge because I'm feeling queasy from sheer hunger.
“Ah, Wilson picked up cheesecake. My favorite. Do you want a piece? Or something else?” I offer Noah. Grinning, he only shakes his head.
“Your butler is in love with you,” he says with an amused expression. He looks around the room while I get stuck into a large piece of cheesecake.
“He's not our butler. Wilson is much more than that. He's practically one of the family. He takes care of everything that comes up. He oversees the gardener and the cleaner, and does a thousand other things that make him indispensable. He even manages the sale of my paintings.”
“You paint?”
“Every so often.”
“I'd love to take a look at them.”
“First you have to see the most beautiful view in all San Francisco,” I say, putting my plate of half-eaten cheesecake on the sideboard and hurrying toward the stairs. There I take off my new shoes and walk up the steps barefoot. It may not be as sexy, but it's much more comfortable.
“This little wing is my private realm,” I explain as I give him a tour of my rooms. I feel like I'm speaking way too much and way too fast, giving away my nerves. I've never brought anyone here before. Apart from my brother and the staff, no-one has ever been up here. My gaze falls on my nightstand and the scrapbook lying there. Looks like I didn't remember to pack it. I've never been so happy to have forgotten something, because otherwise Cassie's gift would have been lost in the plane crash along with everything else.
Finally I gesture to the spiral staircase, which leads from my bedroom up into the roof.
“And up here is my studio, where you have the most beautiful view of the Golden Gate Bridge.”
He stands behind me as I gush about the panorama, and I inhale his seductive and by now familiar scent. Just when I think I've gotten used to it, it again seems as strong and intense as ever. If those are Nephilim pheromones he's giving off, then I clearly belong to the species meant to be drawn in by them.
He lays his hand on my upper arm and I close my eyes a moment automatically, because even this touch is enough to make me tremble inside.
“You're right. It's a fantastic view, but I'm much more interested in your artwork. Can I look at these too?”
He gestures to the paintings covered with white linen cloths which lean against the wall on the right side. I hesitate briefly, because many of the paintings are expressions of my constantly recurring nightmares and depressions of the past, and for a moment I'm uncertain. But then I nod and watch as he uncovers one after the other and looks at them.
“I particularly like this one. It's very expressive.”
The painting he means is one in which a dark blue dominates all other colors. A solitary woman in an ankle-length, white dress, her hair blowing in the wind, kneels on a cliff while below her the sea froths and foams. The similarities with my emotional world up till now are undeniable, as is a certain drama which no doubt had its place in my life.
“Oh that, I painted it a few years ago,” I try to distance myself from the painting in his eyes. Maybe because I get the feeling he's able to see straight into my soul through my paintings. Being so naked makes me self-conscious.
“You're good,” he says.
“You know about art?” I ask.
“Let's just say, I have thousands of years' experience,” he replies, and for a moment I'm aware of how young I must be compared to him.
“Do you dare come into the basement with me?” I ask with a cheeky grin, and hurry off. The mild coolness down here hits me pleasantly.
Because of its clever design and the tall windows, even in these rooms it's light during the day. Because of our light sensitivity though, blinds are mounted here too, and they swallow most of the light. So a comfortably lit passage leads us to a curve and a pair of double doors with two portholes. Behind them the very large, and at seven foot also very deep, pool is revealed, whose walls I painted completely with antique motifs a few years back.
“Very impressive,” he admires the wall decorations. “You have an unmistakably distinctive style.”
“Thanks.”
“You're welcome.” He looks at me and the sparks between us are almost unbearable.
“Do you want to take a dip?”
“With you? Always.”
Without hesitation I slip out of the new, black dress and jump into the water. From there I watch as he undresses, jumps into the water too and is with me in three short strokes.
We simply gaze at one another. Nothing but the gentle rippling of the water can be heard. And I don't even want to talk. All I want is to feel his closeness. Let myself be affected by the feeling of attachment which has taken the place of the loneliness within me. Is it the parallels in our lives that have so quickly caused such a strong bond? According to what he said, we're both creatures which actually shouldn't exist. Creatures which are dangerous to humans.
Or is it because we're both starved for intimacy? An intimacy we paid for with loss and death up till now. With the blood on our hands.
When our lips touch, I lay both arms around his neck and he encircles my body with his. Together we sink down into the water. The surface closes over us, but we don't let go of one another. The weightlessness of the warm water encompasses us. I'm completely cut off from the world for a short eternity, only to lose myself in his eyes, until the closeness is almost unbearable. But only when my lungs' need for oxygen becomes too strong can I free myself from him and surface. He is soon by me again, and the drops of water caught in his dark lashes make his already stunning eyes even more radiant.
“Where do you actually live?” The question escapes my lips as quickly as it entered my head.
He brushes back his wet hair and looks at me earnestly.
“Everywhere and nowhere. From hotel room to motel room. I lead a nomadic life. If you're hunted for half an eternity and have to constantly hide, at some stage it changes from a habit into second nature.”
“I know the feeling. The nomadic lifestyle, I mean. Maybe not quite so bad. Is your family name really Sandman?”
“No. I was born Noah Elyas, son of Ohajah. Since these days people expect a family name too, every so often I come up with one. This one I picked out sometime in the fifties, after I heard a song on the radio.”
“Ah, do you mean Mr. Sandman by The Chordettes?”
“Yes, I think that was the title.” The corners of his mouth quirk up a tiny bit, as if he's going to laugh. He lays his hands on my waist again and before I can stop myself, the next question slips out.
“And where do you keep your stuff? The things that are important to you?”
“Everything important to me is right here,” he says softly and before
I can continue questioning him, he closes my lips with a kiss, which pulls me beneath the surface with him once more.
Breathless, I come up again at the edge of the pool and am about to pull myself up to get out when Noah holds me back and draws me in tight to him. He presses me against the wall of the pool and I gasp, as I feel his warm breath on the back of my neck and his quite obvious arousal further down.
It stokes the fires of my own lust, but I'd much rather continue this out of the pool, where I have better control over my body and don't have to fight the buoyancy of the water. But before I can turn to him and voice my thoughts, I hear a sound from outside which sets me on high alert. The familiar goosebumps are quick to follow.
“Did you hear that?”
Not waiting for his answer, I free myself from his grip and climb out of the pool lightning fast. I concentrate on my well-developed sense of hearing, but the sound is gone and I can't detect anything else suspicious in or around the house.
“Shall I go look?” Noah is with me now and his naked body as well as the look in his eyes divert my thoughts in another direction.
“No, no need. There must have been an animal outside,” I murmur and feel almost a little embarrassed under his gaze.
“Do you want to get back in? Or are you in the mood for something else?”
His wry grin is so incredibly sexy. But not only that. His body is one big temptation. I'd really love to capture him on canvas, but my longing to be close to him again is even stronger. As close as physically possible.
“Hmm, can I think about it?” I tease him, and then it's me who pulls him in and kisses him.
We make our way up the large staircase to my bedroom naked, embracing tightly and kissing all the way.
“I've been wanting to do just this, ever since we left the cabin at Lake Tahoe,” he admits once we're standing in front of my bed and I'm leaning seductively against one of the four massive wooden posts of the bed.
“I know,” I whisper and meet his eyes with an open gaze. Wordlessly, he lifts me up and I wrap my legs around his hips and my arms around his neck. The wood of the bedpost presses uncomfortably against my spine, but as soon as I feel him inside me again, the pain and everything else falls into the background, everything around me becomes vague and unclear to my senses. The focus of all my perception is ecstatically intensified on other sensations of my body.
Noah's eyes never leave me as his hips move slowly and rhythmically.
“Promise me one thing,” I whisper breathlessly and am interrupted by my own groan, because he thrusts into me so deeply it takes my breath away.
“Anything and everything,” he pants and pauses a moment.
“No, just one thing. Stay with me, until I'm back.”
“You bet your life I will,” he growls, lifts me up, lays me on the bed and pulls back out of me.
“But for a start you're staying here with me,” he says and begins to sprinkle kisses across my body. Kisses which follow the path to the place he was within me moments ago. My breathing is rapid and shallow, and I grip the bedclothes, my muscles tensed, until I close my eyes and let myself fall completely into his kisses and caresses.
I lie, pleasantly relaxed, in Noah's arms and press my face into his soft, dark hair. Welcome to paradise, Miss Álvarez, I congratulate myself, then turn onto my back and look at him from the side. “You just want to get me addicted to you.”
“I thought you already were.” He grins and I pinch him in the side. Then I snuggle into him again and enjoy the warmth of his body on the spots where he touches mine. While my body temperature is always somewhat lower than that of a human, his body seems to radiate a stronger warmth. I didn't notice it so much the first time.
“You're warm,” I say out loud then and press myself even closer to him.
“And you're hot.” He kisses my neck and I give a little giggle. He's not lacking a sense of humor anyway.
“102,” he says then. “That's my normal temperature.”
Wow. That's almost nine degrees which separate us.
“Don't I seem very cold to you then?”
“You're perfect just as you are, remember?” Now he draws me in tighter as if to emphasize his words.
Outside the sun is already setting and I realize I've lost all sense of time. The fact that by now I can hear his heartbeat and the whooshing of his blood without having to fight the animal in me is so liberating, I could almost cry tears of joy. If that bodily function actually worked in me.
My eyes closed, I can feel his gaze on me. When I dare to open them again, I have to swallow because his eyes are hooded with lust and tell me insistently of his desire.
“What are you waiting for? Now it's your turn,” I say, stroking my hand over his chest and down his body. As if he were only waiting for the invitation, he pulls me to him. As I feel him inside me once more and his dark hair falls wild across his face, for an instant it's as if I'm drunk from the sight of it. I need a moment before I can place the feeling, but already a voice within me whispers: You're in love, Amkaya.
With a smile on my lips, I have to admit to myself that I actually have fallen head over heels in love with Noah. Probably ever since our first kiss, but I've only become conscious of it now. It seems crazy to me, and yet it's true. Suddenly I have the song 'A Sky Full of Stars' by Coldplay in my head. As if the lyrics of the song were written for just this moment. There is a morbid poetry in the desire to die in the arms of another. Especially when you have a feeling that's exactly what is going to happen again.
I spent so long hating my life and my nature, fighting the ever recurring depressions and railing against my fate. But with him, that all falls away from me and I feel completely different. Noah is the one who takes away my feeling of being a monster. And although he will kill me again shortly, he makes me feel more alive than I've ever felt before. Maybe it's true, we must first be lost to be found.
“Ah!” A sudden pain makes me groan loudly. His movements have become so forceful that my head bangs on the wooden head of the bed. He doesn't seem to have noticed, because he keeps going, unbridled and without inhibition, whispering words in a foreign language in my ear all the while. Words I can't understand.
My ability to automatically understand and speak all languages seems to have its limits, because I don't understand a single one of his words. Even though it surprises me and I wish I could understand, still it excites me in a strange way.
I brace my hands against the head of the bed to keep from continuously banging on it, because he seems almost out of control and is getting more and more forceful. Is this his release, after thousands of years constantly fighting for control? A passion unleashed, which now overflows?
In the half-light of dusk, I can't see his eyes. I can't see whether they're changing color already, but I sense the leaden exhaustion reaching for me and the lust, which had just arisen within me again, extinguishing like a candle.
His loud groan has something animalistic and also liberating about it, and I wish I could see his face now, but the veil has already laid itself over my eyes.
“I'll wait for you, Amy.” I feel his kiss faintly on my lips and hear a rustle again. How I'd love to answer him, but deepest darkness suddenly parts us.
15
Amkaya
“Thank God, Kaya!”
When I open my eyes I see Airas by the light of my bedside lamp; he looks beside himself. He seems pale, and the shadows under his eyes make him look exhausted. I can see traces of blood on the white shirt he's wearing, and my heart, which has only just begun to beat again, starts racing in fright. I quickly sit up and notice I'm naked beneath the thin sheet. Of course. Noah's scent clings so strongly to me, I can't tell whether he's still in the room or not.
“Where is he?” My anxious cry is hoarse because my throat is so dry it hurts.
“I'm here.” Noah's voice comes out of nowhere, and then I see him on the other side of the room, because he makes himself visible. He is wearing
jeans, but his torso is naked and bears bloody wounds. At the same time, I notice my brother's eyes narrow at the sight of Noah, full of rage, and his fangs shoot forth, while Noah's body tenses hesitantly.
Just before Airas reaches Noah, I block his path and hold tight to his forearms.
“No. Don't touch him. I won't let you hurt him.”
“But he. . .” Airas searches for words. “You were dead.”
“I'll explain everything. Later. Please, Airas.”
He stares uncertainly over my shoulder at Noah, while the twitching of his cheek muscles makes it clear to me how agitated he is.
“You will have to explain,” he growls. He shakes my hands off in annoyance and steps back.
I quickly turn to Noah. The sight and smell of the blood on his wounds hits me like a two ton truck. I can't do anything to stop the sudden flow of saliva in my mouth, which makes speaking almost impossible at first, because I have to constantly swallow. I screw my hands into fists and fight it. Not now, I beg, trembling with the exertion.
“Are you okay?” I reach out a hand to touch him, but then pull it back again quickly. It would only make it worse.
“I'll be okay,” he assures me in a calm voice and attempts a small, crooked smile, but I can read the pain in his eyes. “We'll talk later, alright? I'll take care of this and then come back,” he says and before I can get the thoughts in my head straight he has disappeared again, and I'm staring at the empty spot where he stood just now.
I get a bit of a fright when Airas approaches me from behind and lays the thin sheet over my naked shoulders.
“Do you want a cup of tea too?”
Airas pours hot water from the kettle over an Earl Grey teabag in a large, white, porcelain cup, and I tie the belt of my white bathrobe, which I swapped for the thin sheet, tighter around my waist.
“Thanks, I'd rather drink something cold,” I reply, grabbing a bottle of beer out of the fridge, opening it with my teeth in a flash and swinging myself up to sit on the countertop of the kitchen island.
The Night Within Us: Dark Vampire Romance Page 10
