James flipped through the pages, passing excellent pencil sketches of the beach, trees, the duplex where Glenda lived, and various buildings in Medusa. He stopped and studied the several pages of sketches of the same man, different poses, different expressions, different sizes, but all the same man. His hair was shaded dark, but since it was pencil, it could be anything from dark brown to black to deep red. He would be what most women would consider handsome with a square, wide jaw and perfect nose. In every sketch, his eyes were looking straight off the page.
“Do you know this man, Doc?” James asked, thinking he must be from the mainland, since James had never seen him before.
Doc took a long look before replying, “No, he’s not one of my patients.”
James flipped the page to find more sketches of the man. He saw nothing familiar. He turned the page again. There was a sketch of the man, only this time, his lightly closed fist rested against his chin.
James stared at the sketch in shock. He recognized the ring on the man’s finger.
“Thank you, Ms. Farmington,” he said quickly, flipping the book closed and handing it back.
“Did it help?” she asked.
“Perhaps,” was all James could say. Already his heart pounded with a mixture of fear and worry. Yes, the sketches helped; they told him where to look—right under his own nose.
Ms. Farmington left a moment later, fortunately not asking to see her daughter.
“You recognized him, didn’t you?” Doc asked.
James didn’t answer the question. “Just do as I say, lock this door, and don’t let anyone in, not even any of my men.”
James didn’t stay around to make sure Doc locked the door. He dashed out to his SUV to go after the woman who held his heart. After seeing who the vampire really was and thinking he could become the man of Emma’s dreams, James hoped he wasn’t too late.
Chapter Eighteen
Living a Nightmare
Emma ran the mile and a half home in less than fifteen minutes, barely feeling the cold or the rain. She didn’t even feel cold until she reached the porch and was out of the wind.
The minute she was in the house with rain pounding against the roof and no longer on her, pieces of her puzzled thoughts began to fall into place. Suddenly shivering uncontrollably, more because of the terror she felt and not the cold, she left the front door wide open as she ran straight to the pool, needing the cleansing warmth of her water.
Her breathing was quicker, but she wasn’t by any means out of breath. She kicked off her shoes before diving fully clothed into the deep end of the pool. The sweater she wore was heavy, but she ignored it. Then, thoughtlessly, she swam the width of the pool back and forth in one breath.
When she finally came up, holding the side of the pool, she rested her head against the fiberglass. If she made love with James again, she could begin to transform into one of them, she thought, finally managing to admit it was true. She was already feeling changes from making love with him once. James had said they had great speed and strength. She worked out often and was in great shape, but she’d never before been able to run and swim like she just had.
Perhaps it was just the sudden rush of adrenaline from the terror, she told herself. She placed her open palm against her chest and felt her own heartbeat. It was strong and even, not quite racing. She had let James touch her, make love to her. She shuddered and nearly choked on water.
James was like the horrible monster who had filled her life with terror.
She had slept with a monster.
Easily, she pulled herself out of the pool and ran to the washroom near the shower where she fell to her knees and vomited up crackers and the burger she’d eaten earlier. After her stomach was empty, she felt weak and exhausted. For what could have only been a few minutes, but felt like hours, Emma rested against the bathroom wall. Hot tears burned her eyes. Hate and loathing filled the rest of her. Her stomach was twisted in what felt like double knots.
James…
James…
She wanted James, more than her own life. She didn’t want him to be one of them. And she didn’t want to want him. She couldn’t believe that he hadn’t offered her the choice. She had trusted him!
Then she remembered their time in the shower. Had that only been hours ago? It felt as if days had passed.
He had known what making love with her would do to her. He had tried to walk away, and she hadn’t let him. He had made her promise not to have any regrets, and she had sworn she wouldn’t. He had tried to tell her something and she hadn’t let him. She remembered how much she’d wanted him, and how much she hadn’t wanted to hear anything he had to say.
Guilt shivered up her back like cold fingers. This wasn’t the simple morning-after regret with questions like what if I’m pregnant, or why didn’t I use protection? It didn’t matter that he thought she was his soul mate. It didn’t matter that she felt he was hers. He should have told her.
But even as she wanted to blame him, she knew this was as much her fault as it was his. True, he should have told her, especially since she’d practically forced him to make love to her. But she had not let him walk away. She hadn’t let him protect her, as he’d tried to do. Damnit, she was as much to blame in this as he was.
She closed her eyes and thought back over the past five years. How many times had she seen James at the police station, in his SUV, on the street, in the diner, at the clinic? Hundreds, perhaps even thousands. And every time she had felt a pull, as if something inside her knew she was meant to be beside him. Had her soul recognized him as her mate, too?
She wasn’t sure it was possible.
It couldn’t be possible. James was as different from her as night was from day. Yet even now her body tingled at the thought of his hands on her, of the way he’d held her under the spray of the shower.
Of the way he’d made love to her.
How could she still want him, knowing what he was, knowing the monster he could be? The monster he could turn her into.
More tears slid down her cheeks. She didn’t know how she could still want him, but yes, she still did.
Now, as she thought about it, she decided she believed what he’d said about there being good vampires and bad vampires and nothing in between. Could the good ever turn bad or vice versa? Did she have to worry about him suddenly becoming so angry he would drain all the blood from her body—or drain her emotions until she died a horrifying death?
And what of herself? She already felt emotions that were out of control, all swirling around inside her like the storm outside. She had wanted to help Ginger Rashmyer, not kill her. At the same time, she wanted to hunt the monster that terrorized the island and kill him. This is what James’s seed in her body did to her—confuse the hell out of her, she thought sarcastically. And enough of it might make her become like him. She took several deep breaths, thinking she might heave again. She didn’t.
And even in the midst of all this emotional turmoil, even after losing everything in her stomach, she was starving.
She also wanted to feel James’s arms around her.
She suddenly felt more out of control than ever. And what if she did make love with James three times in one day like Marcy said? What if she suddenly had pointed teeth and craved blood? What if she lost control completely and killed some poor innocent, unsuspecting person? She couldn’t live with herself if she did. What if being with James really turned her into one of them and she was evil? Would James and Doc kill her just like they’d killed poor Ginger Rashmyer?
Slowly, she pulled herself to her feet and walked carefully back to the pool. At the edge, she looked down at the water, hating herself for giving herself to James and wanting to give herself to him again. She also hated James. No, she didn’t hate him. How could she hate him when she wanted him more than she had before?
She closed her eyes and tried to will away the warmth that washed over her at the memory of his hands on her body, of him filling her so completely,
so perfectly. He had said she was made for him. How could something she felt was so wrong feel so right, so wonderful? Why did her heart actually hurt now that she was not with James? How could her body tingle, longing for his touch?
She stared down again at the water, needing to clear her thoughts and not knowing how to do it. She wanted James, despite the fact that she shouldn’t want him. She felt as if she rode a wild roller coaster that was out of control as her mind skipped from thought to thought.
James was a monster.
James was the gentlest, most compassionate man she’d ever met.
James was one of them.
James had never hurt her. James had never hurt anyone.
James had come to this island in an effort to save it and its people, and he had stayed—for Emma. He had helped her face her fear of the dark. Yet, James was one of the monsters who liked to hide in the dark.
No, James never hid in the dark. He had shown her passion she’d never known existed. Behind the badge he wore, he saved and helped countless people.
And he hunted monsters like himself.
Before more tears could fall down her cheeks, she dove once again into the water, needing to swim until she had no energy left. Perhaps when she had exhausted herself, she could think rationally.
The rain beat against the windows and the roof, and Emma didn’t hear it as she moved effortlessly through the water. Lap after lap, she swam. And with each turn at the wall, she felt more invigorated, more energetic, stronger, not tired. Perhaps wearing herself out was not the answer. Perhaps facing James and getting everything out in the open was the answer.
She reached the wall and lifted up with both hands before her face was even free of the water. She had every intention of pulling herself over the side. Yet, as she reached up, a strong hand grasped hers.
Emma looked up into James’s deep gaze, but his eyes seemed different to her.
“Hello, Emma,” he said.
* * * *
James maneuvered through the rain, thinking he might have made better time had he chosen to run through town to reach Emma instead of driving the SUV. Time and time again he was forced to maneuver around water that covered the street or fallen trees or, in one case, a child’s bicycle that had washed into the roadway. At least it looked as if every one was safely tucked into buildings. The streets were empty. The roads around the island were equally as empty. He saw no sign of Emma.
At another puddle that crossed the pavement, James stopped to evaluate whether or not he should attempt to drive through it, and he rolled down the window. The rain beat against the inside of the door and his shoulder as he took in a heady sniff of the air around him, searching for Emma’s scent. Just as he knew about her need to swim, her nightmares, and where she was nearly all the time, he knew her scent better than any bloodhound could have. It beckoned him and sent heat pulsing through his veins.
She had run this way, he determined before he rolled up the window. Good, she was heading home. He didn’t like her out in this weather unprotected, running from the pain that obviously blinded her. But at least she was heading to the safety of her own house where an angry vampire couldn’t reach her as long as she didn’t mistakenly let him in.
James drove on, taking his chances on making it through the water on the road. Yet around the next corner, he was forced to stop. There simply was no way around the tree that had uprooted and now lay in front of him. Thankfully, it had fallen into the street and not onto the nearby house.
Without hesitation, he climbed out of the SUV and moved through the rain like a flash. He listened for Emma’s heartbeat, so familiar, so easily traceable to him. He concentrated on her emotions and felt . . .
Fear.
Panic raced through him. He tried to run faster, but her house suddenly seemed so far away. He’d promised to protect her, and now . . .
He wouldn’t let himself finish the thought. Emma was okay. She had to be okay.
But he sensed she wasn’t alone . . .
* * * *
James hauled her from the pool as if she weighed nothing, and still angry and hurt, as well as not liking the strange look in his eyes, Emma looked away from him. He still held her hand, and Emma felt his anger more than anything else.
“What do you want, James?” she asked. Despite the mixed emotions that tore through her like a tornado—the loathing and the want—she kept her voice flat.
“You left your door open. Thank you.”
“That didn’t answer my question,” she replied shortly. She turned away from him slightly. She might have thought about confronting him moments before, but suddenly she wasn’t so sure that was the right thing to do. A moment ago, she had questioned whether or not he could suddenly turn into one of the monsters he hunted and kill her. And the man before her, with the look of a hungry wolf wanting to eat her alive in his eyes, told her that might very well be possible. “Leave me alone. I don’t want to talk to you right now.”
He refused to let go of her hand when she tried to tug it free. Fine, if he wanted a confrontation, she’d give him one. “Why didn’t you tell me what could happen if I made love with you—a lot?”
She felt his bewilderment in the touch of his hand, which suddenly grew cold.
“Tell you what could happen?” he asked.
She turned back to face him. “You know what I’m talking about!”
She looked up into his eyes again, and she knew—she simply knew. Just as she knew James was meant to be her soul mate, she knew this man wasn’t James. His eyes were more than different; they were cold, so cold she shivered. This man looked like James, but he wasn’t James. His eyes were filled with something close to hatred, and yet the hunger in them could not be denied. Even when James made love with her and passion was at its peak, James’s eyes never looked at her like this. This man looked at her as if he would suddenly grow a snout, open it wide and, with a roar, rip out her throat.
Again, she quickly pulled her gaze from his, although it wasn’t easy. And it caused his anger to flare a second time. The anger pulsed right up her arm. It mixed with the building fear that suddenly rippled through her.
“Look at me, Emma,” he said.
Her heart pounded as she suddenly realized who he was. She had heard him say those words before. She swallowed down the bile that was suddenly in her throat.
This wasn’t James. This was the monster who had hurt her, who had terrorized her and made the past five years little more than a nightmare.
And he still held on to her hand.
She closed her eyes, refusing to look at him. “No,” she said, hoping he hadn’t looked into her eyes long enough to see into her soul and know all her secrets.
He chuckled. Emma felt his mirth rumble into her palm and right up her arm. “You don’t really need to keep your eyes closed any longer, my sweet,” he said. “I already know your nightmare. I am it.”
Emma nearly laughed at his words. As if there was ever any question about who was her nightmare, she thought. She forced in a breath as she literally felt him move closer.
“You smell so sweet, so delicious, woodsy and clean. Your hand is soft. I have waited so long to touch you, to smell you, to taste you, to feel you.”
The warmth of the breath he let out touched her wet skin. It, with his voice, sent shivers of terror up and down her spine. Emma couldn’t breathe. She tried to pull away, but he kept her in an iron grip.
“Do you know how long I’ve waited?” he asked smoothly.
Emma didn’t reply.
“Do you?” he asked more urgently, his whispered words close to her ear.
“No,” she whispered through a painfully tight throat.
“Five long years,” he said, his voice losing its smooth texture as it took on an angry hiss.
Emma swallowed hard and kept her eyes closed. She didn’t reply.
“I suppose five years should seem like nothing to an immortal, but let me tell you, each day can be very long when there�
��s something you want and you can’t obtain it. Five years ago I first saw you with Marcy, and I wanted you,” he explained.
Emma let out a deep breath she hadn’t even known she’d been holding until she exhaled. She didn’t bother to tell him that she definitely understood how long five years could be, especially when nearly every day of those years was plagued by nightmares. And right now, her nightmare stood before her, holding her hand. She again understood the terror his other victims had felt, because she was feeling it now. Her hand in his was so cold, and she couldn’t seem to stop shivering all over. And if her heart began to beat any faster, she was sure it would explode and she’d drop dead on the spot.
“Your will was so strong,” he told her. “I wanted nothing more than to possess you. One could even say I was joyful when I stepped into the old mill and found that one of my loyal subjects had captured you for me. But then, I hadn’t yet reached the plateau that would allow me to feel emotions. I did, however, reward your captor well.”
He paused, but didn’t release her. Emma stood perfectly still, her knees perfectly straight, though she feared that at any moment they would buckle beneath her and send her falling right into his embrace.
“Would you like for me to explain?” he asked formally, his voice again smooth and controlled.
“Yes,” she whispered, even though she didn’t want to hear his voice, which reverberated with the haunting memories from five years ago. But she would try anything to stall for time hoping, waiting, and searching for a way to escape. Oh, James, I’m sorry, she cried out mentally. James where are you?
“You see, my dear Emma,” the monster said, “everything involving a vampire—you do know that’s what I am, don’t you?” he asked.
“Yes,” she let out again.
She heard his intake of breath, as though he were pleased by her response. “Well, everything involving a vampire revolves around blood. For example, a newly turned vampire needs a taste of blood to understand and control his powers. And yet, if he gives into his desire for blood again and again, it will continue to keep him physically strong, but it will not allow him to move to a new plateau in his life. Many years went by before I could be out in the daylight because I let my need for blood control me. Many more years went by before I could eat food like a real man. Yet, my desire for blood was so strong I cared for nothing else—until I saw you. You, Emma, awakened something deep inside me, something I didn’t even know existed. And because I could not break your will and get you to look at me, I could not touch you. I found myself wanting to make love to you with my body as a real man, something I haven’t been able to do since before I became a vampire hundreds of years ago, all because I never let go of my need, my thirst, for blood.”
No Fear Page 25
