“All right, all right!” Lou threw up her hands in surrender. “I won’t do anything until the brat’s born. But I’m not promising anything after that.”
Chapter Fourteen
Mara sat on the sofa, watching a cooking show on the satellite screen. The chef was a plump, middle-aged woman with poufy brown hair and a strong New York accent. Judging from the woman’s behavior, one would think that her every thought was about food and food preparation. In the last month, Mara had watched a number of cooking programs and home decorating shows in an effort to learn how to behave like a mortal woman. The truth was, as much as she enjoyed mortal food, she hated cooking, probably because she wasn’t very good at it. So far, practically everything she had tried to prepare either came out woefully undercooked or burnt to a crisp. She didn’t think she would ever get the hang of baking or frying or broiling. Of course, some of the directions and ingredients remained a mystery to her, reminding her that she needed to download a cookbook.
Logan watched her culinary attempts with amused forbearance. He praised her few successes and politely ignored the stink of her failures.
No, she definitely didn’t like cooking. Far easier to order in, or go to one of the fast-food places for take-out. Strangely, even though she no longer had a taste for blood, she missed the thrill of the hunt, the rapid beat of her prey’s heart, the sense of power that came with holding another’s life in her thrall.
With a sigh of exasperation, she switched off the screen. Was this how mortal women spent their days: cooking and cleaning and watching silly soap operas? She didn’t like being human, didn’t like being awake and active during the day. The sun was too bright, its light too warm. She had tried sleeping during the day so she could stay up late into the night and early morning with Logan, but her body refused to adjust. By midnight, she could scarcely keep her eyes open.
And she was bored. Even though Logan had a large house, it didn’t take much effort to keep it clean. He was very tidy, for a man. He didn’t leave his dirty socks on the floor, didn’t expect her to pick up after him. Not that she would have minded, she thought wryly. It would have given her one more thing to do.
She glanced at the clock. It wasn’t even four o’clock. Logan wouldn’t be up for another two or three hours. Maybe she needed a mortal friend, someone to talk to. It was a totally foreign concept. Except for Cleopatra, she had never had a female friend. She’d had acquaintances, of course, but for most of her life, Mara had preferred the company of men.
And now she was living with one of the most handsome creatures—man or vampire—she had ever known. When she had been a vampire, mortal men had been drawn to her without knowing why. Attracting them had never been a problem. A smile, a come-hither look, and they had hurried to her side, eager to do her bidding, grateful for a kind word, a touch. Would men find her equally attractive now that she was human? She smiled, remembering the clerk and the box boy at the market. They had certainly enjoyed looking at her.
Curious, she went upstairs. In the bedroom, she removed her clothes and studied her reflection in the full-length mirror Logan had bought her. She was pretty, her skin clear, her hair long and thick and black, her eyes a deep, dark green beneath delicately arched brows. She fisted her hands on her hips and turned from side to side. Her figure, always slim, was just beginning to show the signs of pregnancy.
Was she as pretty as she had been when she wore the glamour of a vampire? Would Kyle think so?
Not wanting to dress again, she slipped into a pair of pajama bottoms and a soft cotton T-shirt and went downstairs. In the living room, she switched on the satellite screen, thinking how tiresome it was to have to use a remote device when she had once been able to operate the screen with little more than a thought.
She flipped through the channels until she found a romantic movie. She watched intently for several minutes and then turned it off. None of the silly ploys used in the movie would ever work on Logan. He wasn’t a mortal man who could be manipulated by feminine wiles, but a powerful vampire. A vampire who was almost as powerful as she had once been.
Going to the window, she pulled back the heavy drapes and studied her reflection in the dark glass. The one thing she hadn’t liked about being a vampire was her inability to see herself in a mirror. Now, she found herself staring at her image at every opportunity. As a vampire, she’d had her portrait painted every twenty-five years or so. The artists changed. The backgrounds changed, fashions changed, but she had always looked the same.
Lifting a hand to her cheek, she murmured, “I’m still pretty.”
“You’re more than pretty,” confirmed a deep voice from behind her. “You’re beautiful. More beautiful than any woman I’ve ever known.”
His words filled her with warmth. “Thank you, Logan.” He moved closer, his arms sliding around her waist as he nuzzled the side of her neck. “So beautiful. I can’t look at you without wanting to touch you, taste you, make love to you.”
She leaned against him. There was something reassuring about the strength of his arms around her, something comforting in the way his breath caressed her cheek, the hard wall of his chest at her back. His hand slid over her hip, his fingers splaying over the swell of her belly.
“I’ve never been with a pregnant woman before,” he said, his voice husky. “I find it incredibly sexy to think that you’re carrying a new life. Think of it, Mara. You’re doing something none of our kind has ever done before. I wish . . .”
She turned in his arms to face him. “What do you wish?”
“I wish it was mine.”
She stared up at him. “Logan . . .”
“Pretty silly, huh?”
“No.” Rising on her tiptoes, she kissed his cheek. “I wish it was yours, too,” she whispered, and at that moment, she meant it. Logan wanted her. He didn’t care if she was vampire or mortal. He had loved her when she was the world’s most powerful vampire; he loved her now, when she was weak and helpless and afraid of what the future might hold.
She gazed deep into his eyes, eyes that smoldered with desire. He wanted her and right or wrong, she wanted him, needed him to restore her faith in herself. She thought briefly of Kyle. What was the point in yearning for a man who didn’t want her? Would she be yearning for him if she had been the one to walk out? Maybe, like Scarlett O’Hara’s determined pursuit of Ashley Wilkes, she only wanted Kyle because she couldn’t have him.
Logan caressed her cheek, calling her back to the present. He was here now, and he loved her, had loved her for centuries. She didn’t know what she would have done without him these past months. True, he could be bossy and overbearing, but no matter what she said or how badly she behaved, she knew Logan would never turn his back on her.
“Mara.” His gaze searched hers. Slowly, giving her plenty of time to turn away, he lowered his head and claimed her lips with his. His kiss was tentative. Not a demand, but a request. When she didn’t pull away, he deepened the kiss, until his need, his desire, were her own. His tongue tangled with hers, sending heat straight to her very center.
She groaned softly. She should pull away, tell him no, but her body refused to obey her mind. She tried to summon Kyle’s image, but the touch of Logan’s mouth on hers drove away every other thought, every other desire except her need for Logan. His hands spanned her hips, drawing her against his erection and she leaned into him, her breasts crushed against his chest, her arms wrapped around his neck. Like a bit of flotsam caught in the ocean at flood tide, she was helpless to resist the desires of her own heart, the longing that burned away every thought but one.
Swinging her up into his arms, he carried her into his bedroom, his mouth never leaving hers. Placing her on the bed, he continued to kiss her as his hands, his quick clever hands, made short work of their clothing.
And then he was lying beside her, his dark eyes burning into her own. “Do you know how many times I’ve dreamed of this? Of having you here, in my bed, in my arms?”
His h
and slid beneath her head, his fingers threading through her hair as his mouth descended on hers once again. There was no gentleness in this kiss, only the hunger of a man who loved a woman to distraction and was afraid he would lose her again, all too soon.
His mouth plundered hers. He was the predator and she was prey and he drank from her lips as he longed to drink her life’s essence. His body trembled with the effort to hold back. Reining in his desire, he kissed and caressed her as he murmured love words to her in a dozen languages.
Mara moaned with pleasure as his touch reawakened places within her that no other man had ever stirred. She murmured his name, her hands skimming restlessly over his back, his shoulders. She ran her teeth along his neck, tears burning her eyes as she trembled on the brink.
“Logan . . .” She whispered his name. “Now, Logan . . .”
She clung to him, weeping softly as his body merged with hers, sweeping her away to another place, another time, when he had been her willing slave and she had been the queen of her world . . .
She came back to earth slowly, her face buried in the hollow of Logan’s shoulder, more confused than she had ever been in her life. If she truly loved Kyle, how could she find such pleasure, such contentment, in Logan’s arms? Of course, Logan wasn’t an ordinary man. She tried to tell herself that she had been helpless to resist him, that he had seduced her with his innate charm and preternatural power, but she knew it wasn’t so. He had wanted her and she had wanted him. It was as simple as that.
She stared up at the ceiling, wondering again if it was possible to be in love with two men at the same time. It wasn’t, she decided. It was just that Kyle’s leaving had wounded her pride, made her doubt her femininity. She had been feeling vulnerable and alone and she had turned to Logan for comfort and reassurance, or maybe making love to Logan was her way of getting back at Kyle for leaving her. Whatever the reason, it had been wonderful, comfortable, familiar. No doubt she would feel guilty tomorrow, she thought, but for now . . .
“Oh!” Sitting up, she splayed her fingers over her belly.
“What is it?” Logan asked. “Are you in pain?”
“The baby . . .” She looked at him, her eyes wide with wonder. “It moved.” She grabbed his hand and placed it over her stomach. “Can you feel that?”
Logan swore softly as he felt a faint flutter beneath his hand. Mara’s child, alive and kicking. It was the most miraculous thing he had ever experienced. “Does it hurt?”
“No,” she replied, her voice tinged with awe. “It feels . . . amazing.”
She had never looked more beautiful to him than she did in that moment, with her cheeks flushed with excitement and her eyes filled with wonder. And he had never been more envious of a mortal than he was of Kyle Bowden.
“I’m really pregnant,” she said, slipping back down beside him. “Logan, I’m going to be a mother.”
“Yes,” he muttered dryly. “I know.”
She had bought a calendar a few days ago and penciled in the due date the doctor had given her. Until now, it had stood for the day when this part of her nightmare would be over and she could pursue her dream of becoming a vampire again. But now it meant so much more. For the first time, the child she carried was more than an inconvenience. It was real, a living being growing inside of her.
Logan put his arms around her and drew her close to his side. Gazing into her eyes, he felt his throat thicken with emotion. In all the years since she had turned him, he had never looked back, never lamented the life he had lost. The most miserable people he knew were those who were forever looking backward, longing for something they could never recapture. He had accepted being a vampire along with everything it entailed but now, seeing the joy in Mara’s eyes, he regretted the fact that he would never know the thrill of holding a child of his own.
“A baby,” she murmured. “We’ll have a baby in October.”
Logan grunted softly, and then he chuckled. “If it’s a vampire, it’s gotta be born on Halloween.”
“I don’t see how it can be a vampire,” Mara said, her brow furrowed. “Kyle is human, and I must have been more human than vampire when I conceived.”
“I guess so,” Logan said. “But I’m still hoping she comes on Halloween.”
“She?” she asked, poking him in the ribs.
Logan shrugged. “Or he.” He kissed her, his hands delving into her hair, loving the way the silky strands curled around his fingers. He had never known a woman with such beautiful hair. He took a deep breath, inhaling the musky scent of her skin. That quickly, he wanted her again.
“It’s a boy. I just know it,” she said, smiling. “Can we go to the bookstore?”
“Why?”
“I need to buy some books on child rearing and cooking and . . . everything!”
His hand slid along the curve of her breast. “Now?” “Yes, now! I have so much to learn.”
“You can find it all online tomorrow.”
“I don’t like reading on the computer.”
“Mara . . .”
But she wasn’t listening. She was already out of bed, pulling on her discarded clothing, looking for her shoes.
With a sigh, Logan went into the bathroom. Before they went anywhere, he needed a shower. The colder, the better.
Chapter Fifteen
Rane paused in the shadows, taking a moment to enjoy the quiet beauty of the night before he returned home. It was late. Savanah and the baby had been sleeping peacefully when he’d left the house to go hunting. His prey had been a woman in her mid-forties. He had found her walking aimlessly down a dark, deserted street, the picture of despair.
Her grief-stricken countenance and slumped shoulders had tugged at his heart. After mesmerizing her, he had eased his hunger, then escorted her into a bar where, after releasing her from his thrall, he had bought her a drink and listened to her tale of woe. She had recently lost her teenage daughter in a car accident. Her husband had left her for a younger woman. She was contemplating suicide. Though he rarely interfered in the lives of his prey, he had mesmerized her again; then, speaking to her mind, he had assured her that her life wasn’t over, that, in time, her pain would ease, that the day would come when she would be able to smile again when she thought of her daughter. He assured her that she was better off without her husband, that she would find love again. Searching his pockets, he had given her all the money he had, released her from his spell, and sent her on her way.
He was almost home when a ripple in the air told him he was about to have company; moments later his brother and his father materialized on the street beside him.
“Looking for me?” Rane asked.
“As a matter of fact, we were,” Rafe said. “It’s been a long time since the three of us spent any time together without our womenfolk.”
“So, what’s wrong?” Rane asked.
“I heard a rumor about Mara,” Vince said.
Rane glanced from his father to his brother and back again. “What kind of rumor?”
“That she’s no longer one of us,” Vince said.
Rane swore softly. “Where did you hear that?”
“A friend of mine heard it from a friend who heard it from someone in Nevada. I guess it’s supposed to be a secret, but you can’t keep a secret like that.”
“No longer Nosferatu,” Rafe muttered with a shake of his head. “How could that happen?”
“Beats me,” Rane said.
“You don’t suppose Edna and Pearl are working on another cure, do you?” Rafe asked, referring to a couple of elderly female vampire hunters. During the War, they had concocted a drug they had hoped would cure the werewolves and restore the vampires to their human state whether they wished it or not. He and his wife, Kathy, had been a part of those heinous experiments. They had escaped with their lives. Others hadn’t been so lucky. It had been in Rafe’s mind to kill them both when he found them, but he just couldn’t bring himself to kill two old ladies. Instead, he had forced the Dark Gift on
Edna and Pearl. At the time he had thought of it as poetic justice.
“Hell and damnation, I hope not,” Vince said.
“Well, they weren’t happy when I brought them across,” Rafe said, remembering how they had struggled against him when they realized what he intended to do. “Could be they’ve come up with another cure. One that works.”
“Well, at the moment, that’s neither here nor there,” Vince said. He started walking, and Rafe and Rane fell in on either side of him. “We need to find out if the rumor about Mara is true.” He shook his head. “How could it have happened?”
“I don’t know how it happened,” Rane said. “And I don’t know if she’s human again, but she came to see me a few months ago.” He paused, knowing he was about to betray a confidence. “She told me she was changing, losing her powers. She was scared.”
“Mara, scared?” Rafe shook his head. “I don’t believe it.”
“And you didn’t think that little piece of news was important enough to share with the rest of the family?” Vince asked.
“She made me promise not to tell anyone.”
“Well, I can understand that,” Rafe said. “She must be feeling vulnerable as hell.”
Rane nodded. “She was supposed to keep in touch with me, but I haven’t heard from her since.”
“Have you tried calling her?” Vince asked.
“No.”
“Why the hell not?”
“He’s been busy, what with Savanah and the new baby and all,” Rafe said, coming to his brother’s defense.
Vince shook his head. Practically from the day they had been born, his sons had stood up for each other. Adulthood hadn’t changed that.
“I think the rumors must be true,” Rafe said. “I tried to find her not long ago, but the bond between us was gone like it never existed.”
Vince swore softly. “I only told you half of it. There’s more.”
Rane frowned. “What do you mean, more?”
“I also heard she’s pregnant. The idea is ludicrous and I dismissed it out of hand, but now . . .”
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