Dark Gold (Dark Series - book 3)

by Christine Feehan

  “I wanted to stop by and see if Alexandria was feeling any better yet. I thought it might be a good time, too, to apologize for my rude behavior the other day. I was worried about Alexandria, and I took it out on you.”

  “She was happy to have her briefcase returned,” Marie returned noncommittally. “She was given your message, and I’m certain she will contact you as soon as she is feeling up to it.”

  “I thought the flowers might cheer her up,” Thomas said easily. He could handle servants anytime. As long as the lord of the manor didn’t show up, he might get past the door this time. “Perhaps I could just take a peek in, wish her well. I’ll only stay a moment.”

  The housekeeper didn’t budge from her position. Standing directly behind her, looking every inch the Mafia hitman, Stefan remained deadpan. Ivan pushed down his temper. It wouldn’t do any good to alienate these people. He needed to win them over to his side.

  Marie shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Ivan, that would be impossible. Mr. Savage left specific instructions that Alexandria should not be disturbed—on doctor’s orders.”

  Thomas nodded. “I understand that you have to do what you were told, but you see, I’m really worried about her. I just want to look in on her, see for myself that she’s all right. What do you say? We don’t have to tell Mr. Savage. I won’t stay long, just a quick peek to assure myself that she’s okay.” He pulled several twenty-dollar bills from his pocket, crinkling them expectantly.

  Marie’s indrawn breath was indignant. “Mr. Ivan! Are you suggesting I would sell out my employer?”

  He swore under his breath. “No, of course not. I just meant to give you something for the extra trouble.”

  “Alexandria is no trouble, Mr. Ivan.” Marie deliberately misunderstood. “She is a part of our household. She’s considered family, as is her brother. You do know her brother?” She knew very well he didn’t, and her voice said it all.

  Thomas Ivan was furious. This battle-ax was openly defying him. Deliberately taunting him. He wished he could have her deported, preferably to someplace cold and wet and uncomfortable. Instead he smiled again, clenching his teeth as he did so. “I was not implying in any way that Alexandria might be a bother to you. Perhaps your understanding of English is not so good. Where are you from originally?” He tried to inject interest into his voice.

  “Romania,” Marie said, “but I have no problem with the English language. I have been here for many years. We consider San Francisco home now.”

  “Is Mr. Savage also from Romania?” He was very interested in the answer to that. Maybe he could have the arrogant bastard deported right along with his hired help.

  “I cannot discuss my employer with someone not known to me, sir,” Marie said politely, her face expressionless.

  Thomas knew the old hag was secretly laughing at him. He took a deep breath. Well, she and the caretaker were making an enemy more powerful than they knew. He had friends in high places, and they were foreigners. “I just wondered, because his accent is different from yours.” He wanted to say more educated, more cultured, just to insult her, but he refrained. He could bide his time and wait for his revenge. He would bring the entire house down, have the police and immigration people swarming over the place in no time.

  “Well, I’m sorry you feel you can’t cooperate with me. I’m extremely worried about Alexandria. If you refuse to allow me to see her or to speak with her on the phone, I have no other recourse than to take this matter to the police. As a possible abduction.” He thought he saw alarm in the woman’s face, but the man behind her didn’t flicker an eyelash. Thomas began to wonder if the man carried a gun. Maybe he was the enforcer in the group. The back of his neck began to itch uncomfortably.

  “You go ahead and do whatever you think you should, Mr. Ivan. I can’t go against my orders,” Marie said firmly.

  “Then perhaps I could speak to Mr. Savage personally,” he suggested tightly.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Ivan, but that isn’t possible at this time. Mr. Savage is not at home, and there is no number where he can be reached.”

  “How very convenient for Mr. Savage,” Thomas sniped, his fury at being thwarted beginning to surface. “We’ll just see how much he likes talking to the police!” He swung around, hoping the enforcer wouldn’t shoot him in the back. His eye started to twitch the way it always did when he was upset.

  “Mr. Ivan?” Marie’s voice was soft and sweet, almost placating.

  He swung around in triumph. At last he’d said something to scare the pair of idiots. “What?” he snapped, making a show of his displeasure with her.

  “Did you want to leave the flowers for Alexandria? I’ll see to it that she gets them. I’m certain they’ll cheer her up, knowing they came from you.” Marie was trying not to laugh at the man. He looked so silly, all puffed up with his own importance, so certain he could intimidate them. She was not looking forward to a confrontation with the police, but she could use the flowers.

  Ivan shoved the roses at her and stormed off, in no way appeased by her feeble attempt to get into his good graces. These foreigners were going to be sorry they crossed him. They obviously had no clue what kind of power a man like him wielded.

  Marie glanced up at Stefan, and they both laughed. “I know what you’re thinking, you wicked woman. You want to use those flowers to drive Aidan crazy with jealousy.”

  “How could you think such a thing, Stefan?” Marie demanded innocently. “I simply could not abide such beautiful flowers going to waste. I’ll put them in the refrigerator until Alexandria rises. They’ll brighten up her room or, better yet, the living room.”

  Stefan kissed her lightly on the cheek and made to depart. “Aidan is in for some interesting times.”

  “Where are you off to? You aren’t going to leave me here alone to deal with the authorities. That man is going straight to the police station, and they’ll likely listen to him.”

  “He’s sure to make them angry with his obnoxious demands, and Aidan is well known to the local police. He always donates to their causes, and he’s been careful to maintain a good relationship with them. I don’t think Mr. Ivan is much of a threat, but I want to take a look around and make certain everything is in place for their upcoming official visit,” Stefan reassured her.

  “We can always have them talk to Joshua if we have to,” Marie suggested, vaguely uneasy, as she always was when Aidan was vulnerable.

  “It will not come to that,” Stefan assured her.

  Chapter Eight

  The sun sank into the sea with a brilliant explosion of colors. Then the fog unexpectedly rolled in, a white, eerie haze that hung low over rooftops and streets, inching through the dark alleys and parks, until it filled them completely. No wind came to move the veil, and cars had to crawl from block to block.

  Midnight. Aidan clawed his way to the surface. Hungry. Ravenous. Eyes red-rimmed and glowing with fierce need. His insides twisted and rolled. Cells and tissues cried out, demanding nourishment.

  The loud sound of hearts beating close by, calling, beckoning, nearly drove him mad. His face was pale, almost gray, his skin dry and lined, his mouth parched. Fangs dripped with anticipation, and long, razor-sharp nails tipped his fingers.

  For a moment his eyes rested on the lifeless body lying so still beside him in the open earth. Alexandria. His lifemate. His very salvation. The one thing standing between him and the fate his kind dreaded. Because of her he would not turn, would not become vampire, the undead. She had freely given her life for his. She had sealed their fates as nothing else could have, irrevocably bound herself to him for all eternity. She had chosen life for him; therefore, she had chosen it for herself. It didn’t matter to him that she wasn’t aware, exactly, of what she was doing. It had been done.

  She needed blood. Her situation was even more desperate than his. He could not wake her until he could feed her. Her body was depleted, and without nourishment to revive her, she could not remain alive more than a few scant m
oments.

  He smelled blood. Warm and fresh. Beating, surging, ebbing and flowing like the timeless call of the ocean itself. The demon inside roared and raged, desperate for control, yet desperate to save his lifemate. Desperate to feed the gnawing, clawing hunger. A man. A woman. A child. Aidan pulled back from the brink of disaster just in time, controlling himself enough to make the necessary preparations.

  Minutes later he sped through the narrow underground tunnel, a blur of speed so fast that even a mouse would not detect his presence. He exhibited no traces of blood or dirt. His clothes were elegant, his hair clean and secured in a thick ponytail at the nape of his neck. He traversed the stone passageway into the basement without mishap. As he placed his hand on the door leading to the kitchen, he detected the presence of the woman entering the room from another door. For a moment his heart accelerated in excitement, and saliva anticipated his repast, but he fought down the responses. With his forehead resting against the door, he concentrated on reaching the woman mentally, on removing her from harm’s way.

  Marie would find herself inexplicably in the front room, but it would save her from the haunting hunger growing with every step Aidan took. The moment she was at a safe distance from him, he glided through the kitchen and out into the garden.

  Instantly the smells saturating the night air assaulted his senses, flooded him, told stories. Only feet away a rabbit crouched, frozen with fear, aware of the deadly predator hunting blood. Its heart thudded wildly. In the houses up the street he knew where each warm body was and what it was doing—sleeping, snacking, making love, fighting. A veil of fog surrounded him, cloaked him, became a part of him.

  Three days and two nights he had lain in the ground healing. With a new infusion of blood, he would be stronger than ever. Hunger fought for control, and he snarled and launched himself into the sky, more dangerous than anything Thomas Ivan had ever conceived. He was hunting living, breathing, human prey, and those moving below him were at risk this night that for once he might not stop his feeding in time to spare their lives.

  He was a dark shadow winging overhead, invisible to those below. Aidan intended Golden Gate Park, with its rolling landscape and groves of trees, to be his hunting ground. The fog lay heaviest there, waiting for him, covering his advance. He landed lightly, silent feet touching the ground even as the wings were folding.

  Only a few yards away lurked a group of men, barely out of their teens, displaying their gang colors, waiting for their rivals, pumping themselves up for a fight. All were armed, a good two-thirds of them were jacked up on drugs, and they were passing around a bottle of cheap wine.

  Aidan smelled their sweat, their pores steaming with the adrenaline and fear their loud, belligerent bluster was meant to hide. It was the sound and smell of the blood flowing in their veins and arteries that interested him. He concentrated on them one by one, finding the blood least affected by substance abuse.

  Come to me. Come here quickly. You need to be here now

  . He sent the call easily, his hunger so strong he beckoned several of them. The rest of the group he merely instructed not to notice the absence of the others.

  He seized the first man and sank his teeth deep, unable to control the compulsion to feed long enough to be gentle. He gulped the hot liquid, his starving cells soaking it up greedily. It rushed through his body like a fireball, pouring strength into his muscles. He was barely able to prevent himself from taking the last drop of blood and gaining the ultimate power. It was the thought of Alexandria that pulled him back from the brink of such sure ruin. She had freely given her life for his. He could not allow himself, his hunger and his predatory nature, to throw that precious gift away by killing and condemning his soul.

  Aidan concentrated on his knowledge of her, the curve of her cheek, the length of her eyelashes. She had a smile as rich as honey. Her mouth was lush and hot, like silk warmed by the sun. He dropped his victim and dragged the next one to him.

  The liquid of life poured into him, and he closed his eyes and thought of her. She had eyes like blue gems, stars in their centers. She was brave and compassionate. She would never drop her prey at her feet as he was doing. He caught the third man close, his hunger beginning to ease. He took more care this time.

  A sound penetrated his feeding frenzy, and he knew the other gang was approaching, trying to make their way through the thick fog, their cars still too distant to alert those waiting in the park. He pushed away the third victim and reached for the fourth.

  It really wasn’t fair to allow this gang to fight with several of their men out of commission, he considered. Then a slow smile curved his mouth. Already Alexandria was getting to him. To him, people like these men were without honor, without a code, willing to hurt or brutally mow down even those uninvolved in their conflicts, even women and children. Those without honor had no place in Aidan’s world. Yet under Alexandria’s influence, he was considering intervening to allow this group of killers an equal chance in their ridiculous battle for power. Not that any of them knew what true power really was.

  He dropped the fourth man and reached for the fifth. His hunger was appeased, his full strength restored, but this was for Alexandria. His white teeth glistened for a moment, poised over the exposed throat. The gray, bleak, and empty world was now filled with brilliant colors and exciting smells. Once again it held fascination and beauty. He allowed the knowledge to finally sink in. A true lifemate. Salvation at last. He could feel emotion. He would never be alone again. Never to be alone again. Centuries of emptiness gone in a moment. Alexandria.

  With a little sigh that he had to follow a few more rules than he might like, he dropped the last man to the wet grass and sent out a call to the incoming gang. Waves of terror hit them as a group. They fell silent, looking from one to the other. Aidan found himself grinning. Maybe he had to be good, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy himself along the way.

  The lead driver pulled his car over to the side of the road, dragging great gulps of air into his lungs. He was sweating profusely.

  You are going to die tonight. All of you. The fog covers a monster. Death. It is calling.

  Just to make his point, Aidan leapt into the sky, his body stretching, contorting, until he was a giant winged lizard with sharp, conspicuous teeth. His tail was long and thick with scales, and his eyes were ruby red. He came out of the fog, right at the line of showy cars, and breathed fire across their hoods.

  Doors sprang open, and gang members burst out onto the street, shouts of terror echoing through the fog. Aidan laughed softly as he landed just to the right of the lead car, shape-shifting as he did so. His long muzzle shortened, fangs exploded, and his body compacted itself into lupine muscle and sinew. Fur rippled down his back and arms, emerging in a wave over his skin. He loped after the men, red eyes glowing.

  “Wolf! Werewolf!” The scream caromed along the street, and a gun went off. It was impossible for anyone to see more than a scant foot in front of him, but to Aidan the air was perfectly clear, and he knew the exact location of his prey. He chased them for some distance, reveling in his ability to run so swiftly. There was joy in his heart. The joy he had felt some seven hundred years earlier. He was having fun.

  “It was a dragon!” a harsh voice yelled as they all ran, their footsteps loud in the darkness.

  He followed another voice. “This isn’t real, man. Maybe we’re having some kind of mass hallucination.”

  “Well, you stay and check it out then,” someone called back. “I’m getting the hell out of here.”

  The wolf loped closer, scenting the human. The man was slowing down, certain none of this could be reality. The wolf leapt, covering a considerable distance in a single spring and catching the human by the seat of his pants. He got a mouthful of denim, and the man gave a high-pitched scream. Without looking back, he bolted to join his friends, his boots loud on the street as he escaped.

  Aidan laughed out loud this time, the sound echoing eerily, carried on the t
hick bed of fog. He couldn’t remember the last time he had had so much fun. The gang members were yelling back and forth, cries of fear. To even the odds a bit more, he concentrated on the cars, rolling them over, one by one, so that each car was sitting on its roof, the wheels spinning uselessly in the air. Then he did the same for the rival gang. They needed to rest in the park for a time anyway.

  After assuring himself that neither gang had any fight left in them, he took to the air once more, this time racing back to Alexandria. He landed on the stone pathway in the garden outside the kitchen. A fish leapt in the pond, and the sound of splashing was loud in the night air. The wind was beginning to gently shift, slowly pushing its way through the fog. Tails of the white mist swirled lightly and drifted here and there like veils of lace. The effect was beautiful. It was all beautiful.

  Aidan inhaled deeply and looked up at the sky. This wasn’t his homeland, but it was his home. The vampire had been wrong about that. Aidan had grown to love San Francisco over the years. It was an interesting city with interesting people. True, he missed his own kind and the wildness of the Carpathian mountains and forests. He would give almost anything to touch the soil of his homeland. The ancient land of his people was forever in his heart, but this city had its own call, its diverse cultures melding and making for an incredible world to explore and enjoy.

  Aidan used his keys to open the kitchen door. The house was quiet. Stefan and Marie were asleep in their room. Joshua slept fitfully, obviously uncomfortable at being so long separated from his sister, though Marie had allowed him to sleep in the little sitting room off their bedroom on the first floor. Stefan had kept his promise; the house was locked up tight, its iron grills shut over the windows to protect against invasion.

  Aidan’s safeguards were holding strong. Spells that were ancient and strong, known only to a few of the oldest of his people, were woven into the doors’ intricate stained-glass windows. Gregori, the dark one, the most feared of the Carpathian hunters and their greatest healer, had taught him much—the safeguards, healing, even the ways to hunt the undead. Mikhail, their leader and Gregori’s only friend, had agreed to send Aidan to the United States as a hunter once it was known the betrayers had begun to branch out and seek other worlds for use as their killing fields. Gregori trained few hunters; he was a loner and avoided others as a rule.