Her gaze slid away from his. “You left.”
Thorne frowned, waiting for her to go on, but she remained mute, her head bowed so he couldn’t see her expression. After a moment, he slipped inside her mind. And everything became perfectly clear.
Expelling a deep breath, he drew her gently into his arms. “I’m sorry, Skylynn,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have left without telling you.” Not that he had actually gone anywhere, but what else could he say? Your grandfather’s potion wore off and, oh, yeah, I’m a full-fledged vampire again and it wasn’t safe for you to be around me.
She shuddered in his arms. A moment later, her tears dampened his shirtfront.
“Sky ...” Dammit, why did she smell so good? All he could think about was burying his fangs in the tender skin beneath her ear. He should have left town. That would have been the smart thing to do. So, why the hell hadn’t he taken off? Stupid question. The answer was currently sobbing in his arms as if her heart would break.
She sniffed, the sound muffled against his shoulder.
Cursing softly, he guided her to the sofa, sat down, and cradled her against his chest. She deserved a good cry. She had been through a lot in the last few years. A nasty divorce. Her brother missing in action. The loss of her grandfather.
Thorne cursed softly. And then he had come along. He had spent every day and night with her, and then he had left her just like everyone else.
He brushed a kiss across the top of her head. “I’m sorry, Sky. I won’t leave you like that again, I promise.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” she said, sniffling.
“We’re friends, and friends shouldn’t treat each other that way.”
Friends, she thought dully. Was that all they were? It wasn’t enough, not for her. She wanted their relationship to be more. Much more. “Where were you?”
“I had to go out of town,” he said, and hoped she would leave it at that. He should have known better.
“Oh?”
There were a wealth of unspoken questions in that single word. He decided to go with a version of the truth. “Paddy’s potion wore off. I told you it wasn’t a matter of life and death, but I needed to find something to replace it.”
“Another tonic?”
“You could call it that.”
She looked up at him, her gaze searching his face. “Did you find one? Are you all right now?”
“I’m doing better all the time.”
Her smile was brilliant, like the sun breaking through the clouds. “I’m glad, Kaiden.”
He murmured his thanks, wondering how he would explain his sudden aversion to sunlight and why he could no longer visit with her during the day.
“Well,” Sky said reluctantly, “I guess I should go ...”
It was for the best, Thorne mused, so why in hell was he tempted to ask her to stay?
He clenched his hands to keep from holding on to her as she slid off his lap and gained her feet.
“Well,” she murmured, straightening her sweater, “good night.”
She sounded as lonely and unhappy as he felt, and in spite of all his good intentions, he heard himself saying, “Don’t go.”
She looked up at him, her bright blue eyes alight with hope.
He lifted one shoulder and let it fall. “Stay and have a glass of wine. It’s going to rain.”
“It is?” She glanced at the window. “How do you know?”
“I can smell it. Will you stay?”
“All right.”
She wiped the last of her tears away with her fingertips, then sat on the sofa while he opened a bottle of burgundy and filled two delicate crystal glasses.
“What shall we drink to?” she asked as he handed her one of the goblets.
Thorne swirled the wine in his glass, absently observing the play of the firelight on the wine. The way the dark red liquid lingered on the inner wall reminded him of blood.
His gaze moved to Sky’s throat, to the pulse steadily beating there. The scent of her blood was far more intoxicating than any wine could ever be.
Her heart began to beat faster under his intense regard. With an effort, he drew his gaze from her throat. “To better days,” he murmured.
Sky nodded. “To better days,” she repeated.
Lifting his glass, Thorne sipped his wine, only it wasn’t the burgundy he tasted on his tongue, it was the warm, coppery flavor of Skylynn’s blood. He should leave town, he thought, now, tonight, before it was too late. Because if he stayed, he knew without a doubt that he would have to taste her again.
Sky was online late the next afternoon, looking for available jobs in Vista Verde, when the doorbell rang. Hoping it might be Kaiden, she ran a hand over her hair as she hurried to answer it.
But it wasn’t Kaiden. “Harry!”
“Hello, Skylynn.”
She stared at him, stunned. She had never known Harry Poteet to go anywhere, including visiting his parents, without first making an appointment.
Sky glanced past Harry to the house across the street. Was Kaiden home? Maybe looking out the window?
Harry cleared his throat. “May I come in?”
Sky gave herself a mental shake, wondering why she felt guilty for seeing another man. “Of course.”
She stepped back, her thoughts chaotic as Harry entered the house. What was he doing here? He looked fit and trim in a pair of brown slacks, a white button-down shirt, power tie, and brown loafers. His light brown hair had been cut recently, his cheeks were clean-shaven.
She led the way into the living room and gestured toward the sofa. “Please, sit down.” She took a seat on the chair across from him and folded her hands in her lap. “What brings you here?”
“You, of course. I know you’re upset about your grandfather’s death, but is that any reason to quit your job?”
“How’d you hear about that?”
“I saw Don Laskey at the club day before yesterday. He told me you had tendered your resignation.”
How could she have forgotten that her boss and Harry occasionally played golf together?
“I can’t believe you’ve decided to stay here,” he said, glancing around.
Sky followed his gaze, seeing the room the way he would. The furniture was well-worn and outdated, the carpet near the front window had faded. But a home wasn’t made up of material things, it was built on memories. And all of her best memories were tied to this house. “I like it here.”
He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “How can you give up Chicago for this nothing town?”
“This is my home, Harry. I’ll thank you to remember that.”
“Skylynn, I thought we had a future together. We’ve always gotten along. We like the same things, the same people. I want you to come home with me.”
She stared at him, at his perfectly creased trousers, his carefully styled hair, and wondered why she had ever thought herself in love with him. “I’m sorry, Harry, I can’t.”
He sat up a little straighter. “Is there someone else?”
“Would that make it easier?”
His eyes narrowed. “Who is it?”
“There’s no one else. Coming back here made me realize I’ve never been happy in Chicago, never really happy with my job.”
The words never really happy with you, lingered unspoken in the air between them.
“I guess I wasted my time coming here.”
“I’m sorry, Harry.”
With a nod, he rose smoothly to his feet. “I won’t bother you again, Skylynn. I hope you don’t regret your decision.”
“I won’t.” Rising, she accompanied him to the front door. “Good-bye, Harry.”
With a curt “Good-bye, Skylynn,” he swept past her.
She watched him climb into the baby blue Cadillac convertible that was parked at the curb. Leave it to Harry to rent a high-end automobile.
She stared down the street long after he had driven away. Someone had gone out of her life again, but this t
ime the decision had been hers, and she had no regrets.
Chapter 10
From his vantage point at the corner across from the McNamara house, Girard Desmarais watched the well-dressed young man get into his car and drive away. Girard had been keeping an eye on the McNamara house for the last two days and in that time, McNamara’s granddaughter had seen only two people—this young man, and the vampire, Kaiden Thorne.
The young man was of no consequence. But the vampire. . . Girard braced his hand against the side of a brick wall. He had no doubt the bloodsucker was searching for the same information he was. He lifted a hand to his cheek, his fingertips tracing the ugly scar that ran from his right cheekbone to his jaw and continued down the side of his neck, a souvenir from his encounter with Kaiden Thorne some thirty years ago.
Girard grimaced at the memory. He had been past his prime back then, but still a hunter without equal. He had pursued Thorne for almost three years before he finally tracked him down. The vampire had been living in Strasbourg, France, at the time. It had been midafternoon of a warm, sunny day when Girard slipped into the vampire’s lair. He had discovered the bloodsucker’s coffin in the basement of a two-story apartment. Jubilant to have found his quarry after such a long time, Girard had moved soundlessly across the floor, a hawthorn stake in one hand, his favorite mallet in the other. To this day, he still didn’t know what had roused the vampire. One minute, his prey had been as still and silent as death, the next, the creature had leaped out of the casket, his eyes blazing red, his lips peeled back to reveal his fangs.
Man and vampire had come together in a rush. To Girard’s astonishment, the stake, which had served him well for decades, had proved to be a feeble weapon against the ancient vampire’s fangs and wickedly sharp nails.
Girard stroked his cheek again. They had fought for what seemed like hours. Finally, Girard had managed to drive the stake into the vampire’s chest. He had known a brief moment of victory as Thorne reeled backward, then sank to the ground. Girard’s triumph had been short-lived when he realized that he had missed the vampire’s heart.
Covered with deep bites and scratches, Girard had decided retreat was the better part of valor and escaped into the sunlight.
Turning away from the house, he walked back to where he had left his car. Sliding behind the wheel, he turned the key in the ignition and pulled away from the curb.
He had met Paddy McNamara many years after his ill-fated encounter with Kaiden Thorne. Paddy had been experimenting with a longevity potion and had been looking for a few men willing to test it. Girard had been in his late fifties at the time. The potion had failed, but Girard had kept in touch with McNamara. Several years later, Paddy had asked Girard if he would be willing to test another potion. When Girard asked what the potion was for, Paddy had mumbled something about a tonic similar to the first one and explained he was creating it specifically for a client who had an aversion to the sun.
After months of experimentation, a few careful questions, and some subtle snooping in Paddy’s lab, Girard had come to the conclusion that the intended recipient of the potion was a vampire; a slip of the lip by McNamara revealed that the vampire was Kaiden Thorne. The second thing, and perhaps the most important, was the realization that the new potion restored Girard’s health and vigor until he was as strong and fit as he had been at twenty-five.
He had spent the last two years trying to find Thorne again, but to no avail. On his last visit to McNamara, Girard had learned that the potion he had come to rely on had originally been concocted for Thorne. When Girard had demanded a copy of the formula, Paddy had refused.
And now Paddy was dead and gone, and the formula’s secret ingredient with him.
Girard loosed a string of profanity as he pulled into the hotel parking lot. Killing the engine, he stared into the distance. He couldn’t go after Thorne now, not in his present, weakened condition.
Girard rubbed his scarred cheek thoughtfully. He needed that missing component, and he needed it now, before he got any older, any weaker.
Before the bloodsucker moved on.
Chapter 11
Thorne woke with the setting of the sun. After showering and dressing, he glanced out the front window, debating the wisdom of going to see Skylynn before he fed, only then noticing that the grass in his front yard needed cutting badly.
He blew out a sigh of regret as he realized his experience working in the yard during the day was over. He had enjoyed being able to mow the lawn in the afternoon. He had enjoyed the smell of fresh cut grass, the feel of it beneath his bare feet, the heat of the sun on his back and shoulders. Mowing the yard at night was just a chore. Still, it needed to be done and he had nothing better to do.
Going into the backyard, he got the lawn mower out of the shed. He quickly mowed the backyard, then went out to the front.
He was about to start the mower again when a familiar odor drifted his way. Desmarais! Striding to the sidewalk, Thorne lifted his head to scent the wind. Desmarais, here?
The lawn forgotten, Thorne hurried across the street and knocked on Sky’s door, softly at first, and then with more urgency.
His tension eased when he heard her voice calling, “All right, all right, I’m coming!”
She opened the door a moment later. “Kaiden! You don’t have to break down the door, you know ...” she said, a smile teasing her lips. And then, seeing the worried expression on his face, she sobered. “Is something wrong?”
A deep breath told him Desmarais hadn’t been in the house. With a shake of his head, he murmured, “Sorry.”
She looked up at him curiously. “So, what’s going on?”
He glanced past her into the entryway. “Has anyone come by to see you today?”
“Are you checking up on me?”
“Yes. No.” He swore under his breath. “Just answer me.”
“My old boyfriend was here a little while ago,” she replied, and wondered again why seeing Harry made her feel guilty. After all, she was free to see anyone she liked.
“Is that right?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Did you kiss and make up?”
“Of course not. What’s this all about?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Exasperated, she planted her fists on her hips and glared up at him. “Nothing? You practically break down my door over nothing?” She poked him in the chest with her forefinger. “I. Don’t. Think. So.”
“All right, it’s like this. You remember that monk I told you about? I think he’s here, in town.”
She stared up at him, her eyes wide, and then she stepped out onto the porch and glanced up and down the street. “Are you talking about the man who broke into the lab? Did you see him?”
“Not exactly, but I know he was here, and not long ago.”
“If you didn’t see him ... ?”
“He was here.” Girard Desmarais’ scent wasn’t something Thorne was likely to forget or mistake for anyone else’s.
“But ... why would he come here again? He’s got the formula.”
“I don’t know,” Thorne remarked thoughtfully. But he had a pretty good idea. Maybe he wasn’t the only one searching for that elusive missing ingredient. Maybe Desmarais needed it, too. But why? What possible use could a mortal have for McNamara’s potion?
And where was Desmarais now?
Girard cursed softly as he closed and locked the door to his hotel room. A short walk from the elevator to his room had him panting as if he had just run a marathon. It was hell to get old.
Shivering, he pulled a blanket from the bed and wrapped it around his shoulders, then slumped in the chair by the window. He was always cold now, his bones aching. Since using the last of the potion, he seemed to be aging faster than normal. True, he wasn’t a young man anymore. Now in his seventies, he was well past the age when most men retired and settled down, but these last few days he had felt far older than his years. As for retiring, that was something he couldn’t do until he had put a sta
ke through Kaiden Thorne’s black heart and taken his head.
Thorne. The vampire was over four hundred years old and still as strong as an ox.
Girard bolted upright. Of course! Why hadn’t he thought of it before? Mortals grew weaker as they aged but not vampires. They grew stronger with every passing year.
Girard snorted in disgust. Why was he wasting time worrying about McNamara’s potion? Even if he found the missing ingredient and managed to recreate the potion, it wouldn’t keep him alive forever. Sure, it might extend his life and restore his vigor for another ten or twenty years, but he was bound to die eventually. But vampires ... ah, vampires didn’t grow old and weak. And if they were careful, they never died.
What if he became a vampire?
Girard shook his head, stunned by the direction his thoughts were taking. Vampires were loathsome creatures, yet he couldn’t help envying them their vigor and longevity. What he was thinking was tantamount to treason. He was a slayer, descended from a long line of hunters. And yet the hunters grew old and died while the vampires remained.
Of course, the answer was so clear, he was amazed he hadn’t thought of it sooner. If he became one of the Undead, he could hunt vampires forever.
He laughed out loud as inspiration washed over him.
He didn’t need the damn formula.
He needed a vampire.
Chapter 12
Sky pulled a chair up to the front room window, then sat down, her elbows braced on the sill, and watched Kaiden mow the lawn. Maybe she was crazy, but she loved watching him. There had been a time, years ago, when he had always mowed his yard at night. She had never figured out why, and then, for no reason she could discern, he stopped cutting the grass in the dark and did it during the day, like everyone else. And now he was mowing the lawn in the dark again. Why?
Earlier, she had been upset when Thorne told her the man in the gray cloak—Desmarais—had been nearby. Of course, enigmatic creature that he was, Thorne hadn’t explained how he had come by that information. He had, however, assured her that the monk was gone and that she had nothing to worry about. As much as she wanted to believe him, it hadn’t kept her from making sure all the doors and windows were locked and all the curtains fully drawn save for the one she was now peeking through.
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