Meeting Eternity (The Sullivan Vampires, Volume 1

by Bridget Essex

  I knew I was torturing myself, circling the questions over and over again, but there were no easy answers.

  I reached the second floor and walked woodenly, stiffly, to the first door on the right. Like the other doors on this floor, it was impressively carved with vines and tiny cherub faces peeking around carved violets in the well-polished dark wood, and as I stepped close to it, placing my knuckles over the wood of the door, I inhaled, my heart beating even faster.

  I smelled the rich, earthy scent of cigarette smoke, and that beautiful aroma of jasmine and cool, intoxicating spice that seemed to cling to Kane’s skin.

  “Come in,” came the velvet voice from the other side of the door.

  I hadn’t even knocked. Somehow, she simply knew I was there.

  I opened the door.

  Kane had stood, behind her desk, and she was staring at me now in the dusky confines of the room that was fogged with smoke. Smoke from countless cigarettes, the ends of which littered a cut-glass dish on the side of the ornate, mahogany desk. Behind her rose massive dark bookshelves, covered with thick, old tomes, the metal words stamped into their bindings almost glowing in the dark. A Tiffany lamp with a lampshade covered in cut dragonflies that glittered with light, was the only source of illumination in the room.

  And though the lamp was very beautiful, though the bookshelves were very impressive, and there were probably hundreds of antique books here, I hardly even saw any of it.

  All I could do was stare at Kane.

  I’d had thoughts, on the way up the stairs, that I could be around her without being irresistibly drawn to her. After all, I wasn’t a prepubescent boy. I was a grown woman in her thirties, and I’d been around the block a couple of times. I knew self-control, and I happened to have quite a great deal of it. It was ridiculous to think that I couldn’t be in the same room as Kane and not want her. But the room we were in now, her office, seemed smaller than I thought it’d be, and the space between us, even with the heavy antique desk between us, seemed to shrink, even though I didn’t move, though Kane didn’t move, though we stood, frozen as statues, gazing at one another.

  She stared at me with those violently blue eyes that seemed to flash, like lightning over the ocean before a storm, all crackling, intense energy that could destroy so much in an instant. My God, she was beautiful. The men’s suit jacket lay along her curves and lines that I couldn’t help but follow, her tapered, pale fingers gripped the edge of the desk, and her long, sweeping ponytail was swept over her shoulder, brushing against the arm of her jacket, the white-blonde hair looking so soft, so inviting, I wanted to step forward and touch it.

  But then she was striding out from around the edge of the desk, and the door was shut behind me, and my purse and my shopping bag fell to the floor as Kane’s cold, long fingers curled around my upper arms, and her beautiful, fierce gaze pinned me to the spot.

  She searched my eyes as I stared up at her, as my heartbeat, burning too fast through my body, made me shudder beneath that gaze.

  I couldn’t speak. I knew that if I did, if my mouth tasted her name, it would all be over. And I wouldn’t do that to her.

  I already loved her too much to cause her any pain.

  Instead, Kane was the one who spoke. She let go of my arms, even as my heart cried out for the loss of that brief contact. She took a step back, and then she was leaning against the desk, raking those long fingers through her long white-blonde hair as she gazed at me with that same fierce expression.

  “I’m sorry,” was what she told me, then.

  And her voice was so low, so sad, it tore me apart.

  “Kane,” I said, because I had to. My lips spoke her name, and my heart sank in me as I held out my hands to her, palms up. “What we…what we had. What we were beginning…” The words sounded strange to me. I didn’t know exactly how to phrase it. What we’d started? What that kiss, last night, had started? I cleared my throat, breathed out for a long moment, closed my eyes, because I couldn’t look at her anymore, couldn’t look at those piercing blue eyes that seemed to pin me in place, couldn’t look at the curves of her hips, half-hidden beneath her suit jacket, but that I’d felt last night, my fingers curling around them as if it was the most natural thing in the world for my hands to be against her skin.

  “Is it over?” I whispered.

  I opened my eyes after a long moment in which there was only silence. My cheeks had begun to burn. Had I been projecting? Had the kiss been nothing more than a kiss? But no, she’d said things last night, and it didn’t matter if Melody had come, she’d still said them. I would have their memory forever, no matter what.

  And despite Melody’s appearance, last night something had begun, and I had a right to know if it was over now.

  She stared at me as she worked her jaw, the muscles clenching beneath that too-pale skin. Those devastating eyes were wet, and she glanced away from me, blinking back tears as her pink tongue darted out and wet her lips. Kane leaned back on her hands against the desk, her shoulders curling toward me, even as my own eyes were drawn to her chest, to the creamy shirt beneath the suit jacket, the tie that seemed to curve toward me, over her breasts. I swallowed, breathed out, curled my hands into fists and let them fall to my sides.

  My entire body angled toward her as if she was the sun and I was the earth, caught effortlessly in her gravity.

  “Rose,” she whispered, and I stared at her, felt my own eyes filling with tears, but I blinked them back furiously.

  I stood, and I waited.

  “Rose, it’s…” She trailed off, glanced sideways, her jaw working again as she cleared her throat. “Melody and I…we have a history,” she said then, pushing off from the desk, taking a single step toward me with a hand out to me. She paused when I didn’t take it, when I stood still and listened. She dropped her hand, the fingers brushing against her pant leg as she sighed. “I thought Melody was dead,” said Kane softly. “She was supposed to be. But she is no longer, it seems. She is, in fact, a vampire,” she said, and there was a slight chuckle to the end of the words, but there was no humor in it. She continued to search my face, my eyes, as she spoke those words.

  Melody had become a vampire?

  If she hadn’t died when she was supposed to, then where had she been all these years when Kane had been in mourning?

  Something felt not quite right.

  Kane shook her head, took another step toward me. Her cool body was now close enough to touch if I could gather the courage to sweep up my hand, tuck a loose strand of impossibly soft white-blonde hair behind the luminous shell of her ear. But I stayed still. I listened, even as I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood. I tasted metal in my mouth, and Kane stared at me with those perfect blue eyes.

  Stared at me, and pinned me into place.

  “I wasn’t toying with you,” she said then, and it sounded so tired, even to my ears. “I want you to know that. Nothing about what I said last night wasn’t true. It was all true. How drawn to you I am.” Her voice had dropped even lower, was husky and smoky and smooth, and my entire body shuddered beneath that sound, even as she took a step even closer, close enough now that when my breath came out, shaky and small between us, I could see it uncurling and unfurling in front of us like a ghost. Kane was so cold that I could feel the chill of her, even a few inches away. I could breathe in the scent of her, the scent of the cigarettes, the spice of her.

  “I know you weren’t toying with me,” I said softly, the words coming out broken. I closed my eyes. It hurt too much to look at her, at her handsome, hard beauty.

  Then, my hand in a fist at my side, felt too cold. Her fingers were curled around my wrist, and they burned there, against my skin, but then she was raising my hand toward her mouth, and I was gazing up into those too-blue eyes again as she brought those perfect cold lips against the skin of the back of my hand.

  And she kissed me there, as she gazed down and into my eyes with a gaze so fierce and full of longing, I found that I could no lon
ger breathe.

  “I must tell you,” she said then, her smoky voice so quiet, I strained to hear her, even as those full, lovely lips moved to the words. “Every night,” she said, and a low, broken sob seemed to be caught in her throat as she blinked back tears again. “Every night,” she tried again, licking her lips as I watched her, mesmerized, “I have dreamed of this impossible thing. Of Melody finally returning to me after all those years. Of how it would be when I picked her up, lifted her and held her to me as I turned around and around like a slow motion reunion scene from a movie,” she choked back a laugh, but it was partially a sob. “It was a nightly dream,” she whispered, searching my eyes. “Every night since she was taken from me, Rose, I dreamed of her returning,” she said.

  I waited, my heart beating so fast that its thunder and her voice were all I could hear, the gravity of her deep blue eyes the only thing I could see.

  The pain and hope unfurling in my heart the only thing I could feel.

  “But last night, for the first time in a very long time, I did not have that dream,” she murmured. I realized, at that moment, how close her face was to mine, how close those perfect lips were to my own. I closed my eyes and inhaled the scent of her, inhaled the coolness of her mixing with my own heat.

  “Last night,” she whispered, her cold lips against my cheek, my body trembling beneath that feather-light touch. “Last night,” she repeated, voice low and husky and strong, “I dreamed of you.”

  My breathing came too quickly, my heart beating too fast. Her fingers were curled around my wrist and against my hand, and her cheek and lips were pressed to the side of my face as she breathed.

  I wanted to stay in that moment forever. That one, singular, perfect moment where nothing in the outside world with all of its troubles and problems could reach us, where we stayed in the small, dark sanctuary of her office and we were the only two people in the entire universe.

  But moments come and go, and perfect moments leave us even faster.

  The door behind me opened, the hinge creaking as the heavy wood was pushed inward slowly.

  Kane straightened, gazing over my shoulder as her brows, furrowed from her confession, smoothed, and as I gazed up into her too-blue eyes, I saw her gaze shift, saw her expression change.

  Pain passed over her face unmistakably.

  “Melody,” she whispered, and the pain was replaced, smoothly and easily, with an expression I could not quite read as I turned, taking in this beautiful creature who stood behind me, glaring daggers into my back. I’d wanted so much, after last night, to never see her again, but it was a childish want. If we were both going to be living in the Sullivan Hotel, we were probably going to be seeing more of each other than we would ever want.

  In the light of the lovely Tiffany lamp, Melody was more beautiful than I remembered her on the beach last night. Of course, last night, I’d had only the light of the stars to see her by. Here, now, in the lamp light, I could clearly see her soft, creamy skin, her long, wavy red hair, and her sumptuous red mouth. Now, her curvy body was encased not in a flimsy, gauzy nightgown, but in a bright red dress that was knee-length, but low in the front, showing off her womanly assets with curvaceous abundance. Her soft arms were crossed in front of her, and her long red nails were painted the same red as the dress, and glittered dangerously in the light. It was so strange, looking at her face, at her gracefully curving nose, her wide mouth with its full lips and her flashing green eyes.

  It was like seeing a ghost.

  She was beautiful, but there was something so strange about her. I couldn’t place my finger on what about her made me uncomfortable…I just was.

  Maybe it was how oddly familiar she was…

  “Melody,” said Kane’s smoky, smooth voice. The woman, whose bright green eyes were pinned to me, straightened a little, her brows raising as she walked past me into the room, her hips swaying. She walked past me as if I wasn’t even there, her hip brushing against mine not in sensual contact, but rather a bump. A bump that was crystal clear: leave.

  “I missed you, baby,” Melody whispered, her voice feather-soft as she reached up her lovely arms to wrap them around Kane’s neck, drawing the tall vampire down into an immediate kiss.

  And it was a very…heavy kiss.

  I backed up. I could think of nothing else to say to Kane, and it was quite obvious that our talk was over. My eyes blurred by tears, I backed out of the room and pulled the heavy door shut behind me with a click. The last image I had of the two of them was Melody wrapped around Kane, of Kane’s eyes closed and Kane’s cold, long-fingered hands on Melody’s hips. And of Melody’s eyes open and narrowed in a grim smugness as she stared right at me, drinking the vampire in.

  It made me sick.

  With a hand over my stomach and trying to calm the fact that I wanted to sob, I began to walk briskly down the corridor. I needed some air.

  Why had Kane wanted to speak with me? Hadn’t it just made things worse?

  She’d apparently dreamed of Melody every singe night since she’d gone. But if Melody was a vampire and had loved Kane so desperately, where the hell had she been all these years?

  And if they were really soul mates, that sort of love doesn’t just…stop. And it’s certainly not put on pause for a couple of decades.

  So why, after all these years, had Kane not dreamed of Melody last night?

  Why had she dreamed of me?

  There were too many questions and too much pain, and I was beginning to drive myself crazy with all of the uncertainty and hurt swirling in my heart.

  I was walking so quickly and in such a haze of upset that I, of course, wasn’t exactly paying attention to my surroundings. When I briskly rounded the corner in the hallway, I had no thought other than Kane.

  Which is why I ran into Branna.

  Literally.

  “Oof!” said the vampire, still standing, even as I threatened to teeter backward. She grabbed my arms and held me steady, keeping me from reeling backward, as she gazed down at me with concern.

  From the very first moment I’d met Branna, or Bran as she’d told me with a smile to call her, I’d felt that she was one of the most wonderful women I’d ever meet in my entire life. Yes, she was a vampire, but there was something about her. She seemed so kind, and it’s as if we’d known each other all our lives, how easily we fell to talking. Here and now, seeing her friendly face gaze down at me with concern, her brows drawn together and her kind eyes wide, it was more than I could take.

  Slowly, softly, tears began to leak out of the corners of my eyes.

  “What’s the matter, Rose?” asked Bran, her mouth curving downward into a frown as her cold hands tightened around my arms. “Are you all right?”

  “No,” I told her. It was impossible to lie to Bran. “I’m not all right.”

  “Hm,” she sighed, her head to the side, concern making her brow furrow. “Is it anything a good glass of brandy could cure?”

  “I don’t think so,” I told her, shaking my head.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  I gazed into her large, brown eyes, my own wet with tears.

  “Yes,” I said simply.

  ---

  “…I want to be happy for Kane,” I finished, my hands curling around a large mug of tea, the steam curling off its surface bringing the fragrance of peppermint to my nose. “And I am,” I added hastily. “But…”

  Branna lounged easily in the red plush chair, her legs crossed at the knees, one long calf resting on her thigh like she was at a gentlemen’s board meeting. She’d loosened her bowtie, and had set it on the mahogany table beside her chair, and her creamy shirt’s top few buttons were undone. She was handsome and graceful, like Kane, but when I gazed at her, I felt nothing but admiration. It was strange, really. Bran was really my type, but there wasn’t a bit of attraction there.

  She’d just listened as I’d poured out my heart to her, making tea over the fire in an old-fashioned kettle and pouring the wa
ter into a generous blue pottery mug and over the peppermint leaves that had lain, curled in the bottom. We’d gone to her apartments to talk, and we’d remained in her living quarters, a beautiful room with tall ceilings, and very old wallpaper covered in faded blossoms. Everything in the room was antique and well cared for, and I’d felt immediately at home here.

  Branna sighed and uncrossed and recrossed her long legs, working her knuckles under her jaw as she thought for a long moment. “I must admit,” she said quietly, “Melody is quite different from how I remember her. Kane brought her to our study this morning, and it…” She trailed off, her brows furrowed as she grimaced. “It wasn’t exactly like old times.”

  “I just want Kane to be happy,” I said again, leaning forward, resting the mug’s bottom in my lap as I adjusting my grip on the handle and, raising it, took a sip. “And Melody was supposed to be so important to her. Her…soul mate.” The words went sour in my mouth.

  Branna straightened at that, a wistful smile curling her lips. “Well, yes. Melody was Kane’s soul mate. I’ve never seen two people more in love. They had this sort of…well. Electricity between them.” Branna’s head was to the side as she shook it. “That’s why this isn’t adding up. Melody has given us no explanation as to where she’s been all these years other than ‘detained.’ The Melody I know would never have been ‘detained’ for so long and apart from Kane for so long. And she wouldn’t be so…smug about returning.” Branna frowned again. “I feel strange about it. I’m glad that you came to me. Kane didn’t tell me about the fact that she didn’t dream about Melody last night. She normally tells me everything…” She trailed off, her long fingers drifting around and around her own mug’s rim.

  “How long have you and Kane known each other?” I asked her, then.

  Branna looked up, her lips curving into a smile. “Oh,” she sighed, leaning back in her chair, her eyes gazing over the top of my head. “For a very long time,” she told me. She glanced back down into my eyes again. “A very long time,” she whispered. She gazed at my face, but she wasn’t really seeing me. Her eyes were unfocused. It’s as if she was staring into a window of memory…