by Trisha Baker
It was, Simon acknowledged, a masterful photograph, showing Meghann in profile, her face lit with the dazzling vitality he remembered so well. She held out her arms for Elizabeth, captured in midair by the camera, to leap into. Simon grinned at the achingly small ice skates on Elizabeth's feet, the steel blades reflecting the bright lights surrounding mother and daughter while the giant Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center provided a diverting background.
Fifty years ago, this portrait of Meghann couldn't be done but advances in darkroom technology and computer enhancement made it possible to take the blurry, ethereal image of a vampire and redefine it to resemble any photographed mortal.
The photo wasn't a masterpiece simply because it included Meghann. This black and white shot was no amateur work with its balanced composition, excellent lighting and deliberately underexposed print, giving the photo a surreal quality that made it seem more memory than picture.
Unfortunately, Simon knew all too well who'd preserved this slice of time for Meghann so she'd never forget what she felt in the moment her litde daughter flew into her arms. Scowling, he slipped the photo out of its antique silver frame and glared at the inscription on the back: For the prettiest girls in New York Merry Christmas, Maggie. Love, Jimmy.
Simon's lips thinned with anger when he reflected on the place that worthless Delacroix had carved in Elizabeth and Meghann's hearts while he was off raising Mikal. In her loneliness, could Meghann have weakened and given Jimmy Delacroix more than a roof over his head? Why else would the fool continue to sniff around her all this time?
With long, impatient strides, Simon crossed the living room and mounted the staircase, heading for the bedroom he used to share with Meghann. That one room above all others would tell Simon just how intimate Meghann's relationship with Jimmy Delacroix was.
Immediately Simon saw his brief suspicions were unfounded for Meghann had all but turned these rooms into a shrine of their life together. In place of the photographs that graced the walls downstairs, here Meghann hung the paintings Simon gave her— her nursing Elizabeth, a portrait he'd done of Meghann in a floppy Edwardian hat decades before, and one of Meghann seated on the porch swing outside, her full, rosy cheeks and rounded figure just starting to hint at her burgeoning pregnancy.
Even more than the sentimental gesture of keeping his paintings in her most private sanctuary, Simon was reassured by the barren feeling he received when he stood over the large, wrought-iron bed, its dusky rose curtains pulled back to reveal the bed piled high with crimson pillows and gold silk sheets. The room, a sensual fantasy with cherry damask silk covering the walls, plush rugs of the same color, and myriad votive candles might as well be a nunnery for all the erotic impression Simon picked up.
Meghann had used this room for nothing but sleep in years, and she'd spent as little time here as possible. This room told Simon his consort,had been faithful to him for nothing else could explain the sterile feeling that assaulted him as he looked around. Had Meghann a lover, even if she did not take him here, some hint of satisfaction would fill these walls where she slept instead of the bitter mix of sorrow and aching dissatisfaction that pervaded the room.
Simon's head snapped up like an animal sensing prey—Meghann was home. He knew it long before he heard the car motor purring along the sand road, knew it by the sudden electric presence growing stronger and closer to him.
Now Simon employed the astral plane to hurry down to the porch, arriving just as Meghann's 1958 Cadillac convertible pulled up in front of the house. Once it had been black with flames embossed on the rocket fins, now it was candy apple red with curling wisps of silver smoke gracing the fins. Simon grinned, remembering that Meghann had once told him she intended to make the classic automobile she'd owned for more than twenty years as immortal as she was.
Lounging against one of the Corinthian columns that graced the porch, Simon wrapped an impenetrable shield around his presence. He did not want his consort to see him just yet. First, he wanted a few moments to observe her while she was unaware of him, just as he'd done the first time they met.
Simon remembered every detail of their first meeting at a dreadfully boring party in 1944. He'd arrived in New York only a few days earlier and while the city pleased him immensely, Simon found no amusement in New York's high society, composed of dull nouveau riche and duller society people that had the laughable nerve to be proud of a lineage that was comprised of righteous prudes and low convicts that managed to carve fortunes out of the American wilderness. Simon could not even find diversion with the young women at the party for they thought to charm him by affecting a weary sophistication decades too old for them. Simon was prepared to leave and search the more sordid parts of the city for entertainment when he'd had his first glimpse of Meghann through the still strata of foul-smelling cigarette smoke pervading the rooms.
For one endless moment, it felt like time had stopped as Simon observed the young woman with her bone-white skin, vivid red hair and bright green eyes brimming over with a zestful, lusty quality that enthralled him. He knew immediately this was the woman destined to be his soul mate for he'd never before felt such tempestuous passion in another living being and he meant to sample it—and her—immediately.
Now, almost eighty years later, Simon felt that same burning urge to possess the beautiful creature before him, take her and drown himself in the warm vitality she radiated so unknowingly. He looked at her, calmly turning off the car engine and yanking off her head a mousy brown wig Simon suspected she wore in an attempt to look older than the eighteen she'd been when he transformed her. Even performing those mundane tasks, Meghann exuded an unstudied sensuality that brought him to an almost painful hardness.
Simon crept stealthily closer to Meghann, leaning against her car while she glanced appreciatively at the ocean. What a delicious torture this was, standing near enough to breathe in the delightful, fresh scent of Meghann's skin, feel delicate wisps of red hair brush his face while she remained unaware of him—but to not touch her ... not yet He wanted to play with her a bit longer, draw out the pleasure he took in simply staring at her—maybe make her obey her master without even knowing of her compliance to his wishes.
Take your hair down, Simon thought, using his power to insinuate the suggestion deep in Meghann's consciousness and sound like no more than her own inner voice giving her a harmless, little impulse. Grinning broadly, he observed Meghann's small, shapely white hands reaching up to obey his command, grasping a few hairpins and shaking her hair free of the casual knot on top of her head.
Glorious, he thought, watching the lustrous curtain of waist-length red hair fall past her shoulders and automatically settle into perfect little waves down her back. How he'd missed that fiery hair, all paprika and cinnamon with small bits of pure copper highlights. Simon smiled broadly, remembering the first time his hands stroked Meghann's hair, how it almost looked like he'd caught a bit of fire in his hands but felt so soft and smooth against his skin.
In his preoccupation, some small bit of his aura escaped the tight sheath of invisibility, alerting Meghann to the presence a bare inch from her. Abrupdy, she whirled around, green eyes wide with apprehension that turned to outright astonishment when she saw him smiling down at her. Meghann uttered a wordless litde cry, bringing her hand to her mouth while her eyes blinked rapidly, as though she were trying to convince herself Simon wasn't a hallucination.
"Simon ..." Meghann finally whispered in a parched, stunned voice when she lowered her shivering hand.
Uttering his name was all Simon would allow her to say before he drew her into his arms and molded his lips to hers. At first, the mouth beneath his was stiff with surprise and hesitation but when he moved the tip of his tongue against her tender, full lips Meghann began responding to him.
That's right, he thought when her arms went around his neck and her lips parted to accept him. Simon bent her body back and plunged into Meghann's well remembered sweetness, breaking away from her only when he
felt a dewy wetness against his face and hot, salty tears spilled onto his lips.
"No," he said gently and kissed away the crystalline tears spilling out of her bemused eyes. Meghann's tears still had the power to pull at a corner of his heart he'd almost forgotten existed, Simon reflected, remembering the minx who'd occasionally used those tears to wriggle out of a deserved punishment when he first transformed her. "Don't cry, sweet. There's no reason to weep now. We'll never be parted again."
Never be parted again, Meghann thought with savage happiness and impatiently blinked at the wretched tears that were blurring her vision of the man she'd waited so long for, the man she'd almost started to fear was never going to fulfill his promise and return to her.
Until she saw Simon's hawk eyes blazing down at her, Meghann hadn't realized how his absence had lacerated her heart Long ago, she'd forced her mind and heart into a repressed state, feeling her sorrow for her missing husband and son would negatively affect her daughter. Instead, she'd immersed herself in raising Ellie and never allowed herself to acknowledge the burning need at her core that pulled at her even more viciously than blood lust for Meghann could feed her desire for blood but she could do nothing to assuage her body's violent longings. A few fumbled attempts at lovemaking with Jimmy Delacroix taught Meghann another lover would provide no succor. It wasn't Jimmy's fault but his hands on her body and caressing lips evoked no passion within her—she'd lain as if dead until Jimmy finally left her bedroom in a disgusted rage. There was no way Meghann could tell him she was utterly spoiled for other men after her passionate reunion with Simon.
Thoughts of the past seventeen arid, celibate years went through her mind fleetingly for there was no time to think now that Simon was real, solid flesh simultaneously soothing and invading her.
Meghann put aside her uncertainty and the simmering anger she felt at the long separation, lunging hungrily at Simon's crisp shirt, alligator belt, fine cotton trousers, and any other obstacle between her and the satisfaction that was finally within her grasp.
Simon smiled at her wild, impatient gestures and attacked her clothes with equal fervor, scowling darkly at the impediment of her blue jeans.
"Never wear this damned modern chastity belt again," Simon growled and wrenched her free of the denim with one swift tear that split her jeans in two. Then he brutally thrust his tongue inside her mouth while warm, roving hands explored flesh that screamed for his touch.
Wrenching away from his mouth, Meghann brought her lips to the tan nipples on his broad chest, favoring them with light, feathery little nips that transformed them into rigid peaks while she ran her long nails against the length of his hard-planed back. She'd almost forgotten the feel of a man's rough-hewn body and bulging muscles beneath her hands. To simply touch Simon excited her almost as much as the sharp teeth teasing her own nipples, the long fingers making swift work of the slippery cleft between her legs.
Simon hadn't forgotten any of her secrets. Rapidly, he found her center and an orgasm rushed through her. She collapsed against the shiny surface of the car, mewling her pleasure while Simon brought her legs around his waist and drove into her.
Meghann climaxed again when he penetrated her, emitting a short, sharp cry of delight when she felt her body throb around the hard, swollen flesh encased within her.
"My Meghann," Simon husked and put his mouth back on hers before she could reply, tell him yes, she was always and forever his Meghann, belonging only to him.
Meghann writhed eagerly beneath Simon, unmindful of the hard, aluminum surface she slammed against with each thrust. Nothing mattered but the pleasure consuming her, making the years of frustration fall from her like a bad habit. Each thrust, each burning imprint of Simon's hands and mouth renewed her, brought her back to eager, hot-blooded life.
An endless time later, when Simon was sure of her satisfaction, Meghann felt him move toward his own release and encouraged him with a clenching of her pelvic muscles. He gave her a quick grin and she watched his blood teeth emerge to slide deep within her neck.
Meghann squirmed in ecstasy as Simon fed from her and she brought her own fangs to his wrist, feeling another climax rock through her when his dark, delicious blood filled her mouth. How she'd missed this naughty game of being predator and prey, drinking and being drunk from while that greedy, iron-hard flesh rammed into her, bringing her to a final, cresting peak that made her scream in abandonment, scream so loud and long she was surprised she didn't blow out all the glass in the car.
Simon collapsed against her panting, slick form and then rose, pulling Meghann up with him. Lucky for Simon she'd saved some of his clothes, Meghann thought when she saw his shredded silk shirt lying beside one of the front tires.
"I've never made love on a car," Meghann said impishly and bit Simon's earlobe when he settled her on top of him. "Inside a car, yes, but never on a car."
Simon gave her a rakish grin and returned her playful bite with his own.
Meghann rested her head against his softly beating heart, luxuriating in the heat emanating from his body to warm her while the sharp ocean breeze blew her hair around and tickled her bare legs.
It seemed like forever since she'd felt this kind of wide-eyed exhilaration, since she looked up and felt awed by the beauty of the black velvet night and glowing white stars. How long since the night had performed these tricks for her?
Not since Simon left, Meghann realized, thinking not for the first time that the world had dimmed somehow when he left.
Not that she had any intention of feeding his immense ego and telling him that. Instead, Meghann let her fingers draw aimless little paths on his chest while she inquired, "Why didn't you write and tell me you were coming? Why didn't you or Adelaide write me at all in the past eight months?" Even their usual scant letters that never told Meghann all she longed to know about her son had been absent.
"I wanted to surprise you, little one," Simon told her and she felt his fingers entwine in her hair while his other hand reached out to pet and fondle in the soothing manner he'd always used after they made love.
"Why did you stay away so long?" Meghann raised her head, now ready to attack Simon with the angry barrage of questions she'd had almost two decades to form, an interminable length of years in which she'd waited night after night, year after year for Simon to materialize and then felt constant, bitter disappointment when he never did.
"Leaving you when I took Mikal was the hardest thing I've ever done. It took all the determination and will I possess to walk away from you and Elizabeth. But there are limits to my strength, Meghann. How many times could I come back only to tear myself away after some brief interlude? It was keep away or keep you forever, so until the time came when I'd never have to leave you again, I had to stay far away and allow you to dwell only in my memory."
Meghann narrowed her eyes, thinking Simon's words sounded hollow to her ears, almost insincere. Not that Meghann thought he was lying for Simon, while amoral, sometimes cruel and occasionally verging on true evil in his behavior, was hardly ever dishonest He'd hide things, omit important facts, but never did he out and out lie. So Meghann thought it more likely she'd just received a half-truth—yes, Simon might have found brief visits that had to end more painful than their protracted separation but that wasn't his only reason for staying away.
Meghann squared her shoulders, about to try and wrest from Simon whatever important and very likely unpleasant facts he was keeping from her, when his words and their meaning registered on her. "Never leave again—you mean you're back for good?"
"For good and ever," he promised, giving her a deep, lingering kiss that made her nerves tingle pleasantly.
Meghann threw her arms around him in a near chokehold and babbled in the happy, rushed way Simon always brought out in her. "That's wonderful ... you and Mikal, home for good! Ellie's going to be thrilled—have you met her yet? Simon, you'll be so proud . .. oh, you did meet her? You introduced her to Mikal, didn't you? Have they gone out toge
ther? No? Well, why not? Isn't Mikal here? Simon, how could you come home without my son? Where is he? He isn't angry with me, is he? Simon, you did explain to him why we haven't met. . . that it wasn't because I wasn't interested or didn't love him but you and I decided..."
Meghann trailed off, thinking whatever Simon wasn't telling her, it better tie in to why he'd shut her out of their son's life, why that son still wasn't here to meet his mother. To her, Mikal was like a child she'd given up for adoption. Meghann had only seen the boy once when he was an infant and knew nothing about him save for the precious little Adelaide wrote—Mikal's well and safe, how's Elizabeth? Simon's letters rarely referred to Mikal; he only commented on things she'd written him regarding Ellie. Meghann knew nothing about her son, not his favorite book or color, what he looked like or even if he was able to tolerate sunlight, though the events of a month ago made Meghann and Charles strongly suspect Mikal had fulfilled Simon's theory that their vampire child would be able to walk in daylight once he matured to adulthood.
Meghann started to tell Simon what she and Charles had discovered in Ireland a month ago, ask him if Mikal was connected to the mysteriously slaughtered vampire colony, but Simon smiled into her uneasy, apprehensive eyes before she could speak and put a finger to her kiss-swollen lips.
"I don't wish to talk now," Simon said lightly and Meghann had a brief sensation of being in a dark, dank place with a keening wind howling all around her before she found herself sprawled on her bed.
