Darkness Dawns (immortal guardians)

by Dianne Duvall

  He had been naive when he had courted Mary. Communication between immortals had been very limited at the time and further hampered by his self-imposed isolation. He had foolishly believed that as long as he loved her, the inevitable changes in Mary’s appearance wouldn’t matter.

  It wasn’t until the birth of the Internet that allowed immortals all over the world to meet and communicate with each other via chat rooms and message boards that he had understood the truth of it.

  But as Sarah approached him, a sleepy smile lighting her face, there was a part of him that wished, just this once, it would turn out differently.

  “When I woke up, you were gone.”

  Walking into his embrace, she wrapped her arms around him and leaned her head against his chest. Her small hands were cold on his back, her toes icy where they brushed his.

  He didn’t mind. Feeling inexorably heartsore, Roland rested his cheek atop her hair and let her presence soothe him.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked, rubbing his back.

  “Yes, it was just Seth’s Cleaner, calling to let me know everything had been taken care of. The police won’t be questioning us about the fire or the dead men.”

  “Good.”

  He couldn’t help but derive a certain masculine satisfaction from the fact that his scent was all over her. Beneath that was her own unique fragrance, tantalizing him as it always did.

  She squeezed him tighter momentarily. “I’m sorry you lost your house, Roland.”

  He shook his head slightly. “The only things irreplaceable in it were you, Marcus, and Nietzsche, and you all made it out safely.”

  He felt her smile against his chest. “You’re so sweet.”

  Roland choked back a laugh. Sweet was an adjective he didn’t think anyone had used to describe him since he was in swaddling clothes.

  “You know what?” she asked mischievously.

  “What?” he responded, still smiling.

  Raising up onto her toes, she tilted her head back and whispered in his ear, “You’re wearing my favorite outfit.”

  He laughed and glanced down. “I’m completely naked.”

  She grinned. “And you wear it so well.”

  His spirits buoyed, he lowered his head.

  Sarah hummed her approval as his lips brushed hers.

  When she had awoken and found herself alone, she had felt a moment’s panic. Then, from a distance, the faint murmur of his voice had reached her ears. The bed had felt so cold and empty. She hadn’t been able to go back to sleep without his big, warm body spooned up behind her.

  After listening to the indistinct rumble of his voice for several minutes and hearing no responses, she had assumed he was talking on the phone, donned his T-shirt, gone in search of him, and found him standing gloriously naked in the living room.

  For a moment, he had looked so sad. She had wanted only to hold him, comfort him, bring a smile to his face.

  But now, with his sleek tongue slipping past her lips and speeding her pulse, all she could think of was how it had felt to have him inside her, moving in long, deep, hard strokes that had made her want to scream and had sped her toward one fantastic orgasm after another.

  Withdrawing her arms from around his waist, she slid her hands up his muscled chest, over his shoulders, and tunneled her fingers through his short, silky hair.

  He groaned as she raked her nails across his scalp and hungrily returned his kiss. Bending his knees so she wouldn’t have to stand on her toes, he grasped her nape with one hand and locked her to him while he slid the other down over her hip and thigh.

  She shivered when that hand dipped beneath the hem of the shirt she wore and slowly began to climb again, drawing the soft cotton along with it. Cool air rushed over her rapidly heating flesh as he cupped her bottom and squeezed, dragging her tighter against him. The long, hard length of his erection prodded her stomach as he insinuated a strong thigh between her legs and pressed against her sensitive core.

  Sarah moaned, breath catching. She was already wet, dampening his skin as she rocked against him.

  His hunger rising, Roland released her tempting ass and slid his hand up her slender back. His body began to tremble with the need to be inside her.

  Abandoning her lips, he whipped the shirt over her head and bared her beautiful body. He stroked her breasts, pinching the hardened peaks. She jerked against him.

  Smiling, he lowered his head and took one pink bud into his mouth, swirled his tongue around it, took it between his teeth, and bit, though he was careful not to break the skin. He glanced up when she moaned again. Her face was flushed with passion, her hips urgent as they rocked against him. She was so wet for him. He wanted to taste her. Now.

  Dropping to his knees, he parted her legs and feasted upon her center. The dark triangle of curls was damp with need, her scent going straight to his head like a glass of champagne.

  She cried out as his tongue sought her clit, rasped across it. His cock hardened even more as she clenched her hands in his hair and held him to her. Again and again he teased the nub of her desire, circling it, flicking it, sucking it as he slipped one finger inside her, then a second, stroking in rhythm with his mouth until she was panting and begging for release.

  A first orgasm crashed over her, drawing his name from her lips as her body spasmed around his fingers. And still he did not cease, building upon it, extending it. Not until the last cry was wrung from her lips and her knees buckled did he withdraw.

  Roland caught her easily and lifted her even as he stood, urging her legs around his waist. He was shaking with need, her taste lingering on his tongue. The kisses and love bites she delivered to his neck only enflamed him more.

  Turning, he took two steps and pressed her up against the wall. Her ankles locked behind his back as she eagerly sought his mouth.

  “Be careful,” he warned softly. “My fangs are very sharp.”

  She nodded wordlessly, then shocked the hell out of him by stroking one with her tongue. A shudder of pleasure worked its way through him at this evidence of her acceptance of him.

  Supporting her weight with one arm, he reached up with the other to palm one of her breasts. He lowered his mouth to the other and again worshipped it with teeth and tongue.

  He couldn’t wait much longer.

  As if hearing his thoughts, Sarah reached down between them and took his cock in her hand. Roland groaned as she stroked him, squeezed him, drew her thumb in circles around the moist, sensitive crown.

  “I want you inside me,” she murmured, her breath warm on his ear.

  Raising his head, he met her heated gaze and told her hoarsely, “Take me there.”

  Eyes fastened to his, she guided him to her moist entrance and drew him in.

  He groaned. She was so warm and tight.

  Sarah sucked in a breath as Roland sank to the hilt, loving the heavy feel of him.

  His eyes glowed fiercely as he began to move, the amber bright against his tanned skin and dark eyebrows. His fangs were extended. Fangs he was careful to keep from cutting or puncturing her while he took her nipple between his teeth and stroked it with his tongue, sending shards of pleasure slicing through her.

  “Roland,” she moaned, burying her hands in his hair and holding him to her. “You feel so good.”

  His hands tightened. His thrusts increased. Quicker. Harder.

  “Yes,” she groaned, urging him against her with her legs, head falling back against the wall.

  He trailed his lips up her breast, over her collarbone to her neck, found the pulse beating frantically just beneath the surface.

  Was he going to bite her?

  It wasn’t fear that raced through her at the thought, but excitement.

  He stroked his tongue across the skin. A gentle grazing of his teeth followed as he drew his free hand down her stomach, delving into the thatch of curls to tease her clit.

  It was too much. Sarah splintered apart in his arms, crying out as a second climax even st
ronger than the first careened through her.

  Roland joined her with a groan, her body milking his as wave after wave of pleasure buffeted her.

  When the last ripples had faded, he leaned his forehead against the wall beside her, his damp cheek pressed to hers. Their breath came in gasps as he wrapped both arms around her and held her tightly.

  “That was … incredible,” she said between breaths, sliding her arms around his neck and holding him close, though her sated body wanted to sink into a boneless heap at his feet.

  He raised his head, drawing back just enough to look down at her.

  She smiled and cupped his face with one hand. “Those eyes,” she murmured, entranced by their glow.

  He nuzzled her palm, pressing a kiss to its center.

  “You’re so beautiful,” she told him and couldn’t care less that the word was more often used to describe women. He was beautiful. And despite his apparent misgivings, she liked seeing him like this. Eyes as bright as the moon. So consumed by passion that he couldn’t hide his true nature from her.

  His brow furrowed. “I almost bit you.”

  “I know.” She touched a finger to his tempting (and talented) mouth. He had the softest lips she had ever kissed.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Remembering his previous experience with women, she gave him a quick kiss. “It’s okay, Roland. You didn’t scare me.” She felt heat climb into her cheeks. “To be honest”—she leaned forward to whisper in his ear—“it turned me on.”

  “It did?”

  She leaned back again so she could see him.

  His face was lit with the most adorable, boyish smile she had seen on him thus far, making her doubly glad she had told him.

  “Really.”

  He gave her a quick, buoyant kiss that made her smile. When he drew back, she was sorry to see his fangs had retracted.

  Easing her feet to the floor, he held her steady until her rubbery legs would support her. “The desire to bite you was almost overpowering,” he admitted, “but I have to resist it. As addictive as I find your scent, I’m afraid your blood would be even more so and make me want to keep coming back for more.” He brushed her hair back from her face and gently cupped her cheek. “I can’t risk infecting you, Sarah. I won’t risk it. I care too much about you.”

  She covered his hand with hers and held it there, feeling surprisingly disappointed, yet touched that he cared so much for her he would deny himself to keep her safe.

  Sending him a mischievous look from beneath her lashes, she murmured, “I guess you’ll just have to keep tasting me in other ways and places.”

  Grinning, he shook his head. “You’re an amazing woman.”

  Adopting an exaggeratedly somber look, she nodded. “I know.”

  Roland laughed and scooped her up into his arms. “Let’s go try out that whirlpool tub.”

  Chapter 13

  All was quiet when Bastien awoke. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was late afternoon. The other vampires would still be asleep, rousing only when the sun set. He supposed it was his age that allowed him to wake as early as he did. Perhaps the longer one was infected, the weaker the side effects became, requiring less rest and allowing brief exposure to sunlight.

  His thoughts turned to Roland and the woman as he dressed, then began negotiating the underground maze.

  Sarah Bingham.

  After this morning’s failed attempt had cost him twelve more men—all human—Bastien had set Tanner to seeking out information on her, wanting to know what her role in all of this was.

  Apparently Sarah was neither a member of the network nor Roland’s Second. She was a thirty-year-old music theory professor, who—as far as he knew—had never laid eyes on Roland until Bastien and his men had staked him out for the sunrise practically in her backyard.

  She was a complication he had not anticipated, but one that may work to his advantage. Killing Roland was his top priority. He would accomplish that feat using any means necessary.

  Crossing the basement’s main room, he climbed the stairs.

  The farmhouse’s living room was empty. There were only four humans in his employ now. He could hear three of them trolling for snacks in the kitchen.

  Bastien entered the study as the fourth, Tanner, pulled a stack of papers from the humming printer.

  “Is that tonight’s list?”

  Tanner jumped, then turned to regard him with a worrisome amount of relief. “You’re awake. Finally.”

  That couldn’t be good.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Tanner rolled his eyes and set the papers on the neat desktop. “It’s Keegan. He’s been calling every five minutes, wanting to meet with you.”

  “Did he say what the problem was?”

  “No, he just kept cursing me out for not waking you up. Then cursed me out some more for not telling him where you live so he could do it himself.”

  “Thank you for that.” Bastien was still unsure he had done the right thing by trusting the biochemist and didn’t want to leave himself and the others vulnerable.

  “Sure thing. Maybe you should call before he has a stroke.” Lowering his voice, he muttered, “Or before I strangle him.”

  Bastien smiled. “I’ll wait and go see him when it’s dark.”

  “You want backup?”

  “No, I can handle him.”

  Tanner laughed. “I’m sure you can.”

  The phone rang.

  Tanner glanced at the caller ID, lifted the receiver, then slammed it down again. “How’s the hunt going?”

  “More slowly than I anticipated.”

  “Anything I can do?”

  “Just what you’re already doing.”

  Nodding, Tanner rounded the desk and held out the papers. “Here’s tonight’s assignments.”

  Each page had a name and address at the top and Mapquest directions below it.

  “There seems to be an endless supply, doesn’t there?”

  Tanner’s lips tightened. “Yes, there is.”

  Dr. Montrose Keegan fell into the arrogant little prick category. Bastien did not like him. However, that dislike was not intense enough to deter him from accepting an opportunity very few vampires had been given.

  Montrose’s twenty-three-year-old brother, Casey, had succumbed to the virus four years earlier. (Drunken college students were easy prey for vampires, which was why so many of Bastien’s men had been under twenty-five years of age when they were transformed.)As commonly happened, the vampire who turned him had almost immediately abandoned him.

  Bastien had found Casey and Montrose shortly thereafter and had taken the young vampire under his wing, offering him shelter and instruction as long as Montrose helped him search for a cure and Casey agreed to keep their lair’s location a secret, even from his brother.

  The arrangement had worked well so far. Unfortunately, Montrose forgot on occasion just who wielded the power in this game, and needed to be reminded.

  Bastien silently let himself into the single man’s house and followed the curses and frustrated thumps and thuds to the basement lab.

  His back to Bastien, Montrose stood beside a cluttered desk with a phone receiver held to his ear. Swearing foully, he slammed the receiver down.

  Bastien let his fangs descend their full length, made sure his irritation was enough to make his eyes glow, then put on a burst of preternatural speed so he seemed to appear out of nowhere directly in front of the good doctor.

  Montrose was so startled, his feet left the floor. “Bastien! Where … H-H-How did you get in?”

  Bastien curled his lip, flashing a bit of fang. “Tanner Long is both my employee and my friend. Would you care to explain why you verbally abused and tried to berate him into disturbing my rest?”

  Sweat beading on his forehead, the average-size, prematurely balding man took a nervous step backward. “I-It was an emergency.”

  Bastien towered over him, scowling menacingly. “An emergency would be findi
ng the teaspoonful of Casey’s remains left behind after an immortal’s attack.”

  Montrose paled.

  “Casey is even now awakening from the rest you sought to deny me, so there is no emergency. Did you finish the suit?”

  “N-no. It’ll be ready tomorrow.”

  “Why is it not ready tonight?”

  After stuttering several unsuccessful beginnings, Montrose said, “I just—I need to know where you got that blood sample you brought me. Not Casey’s. The other one.”

  Bastien frowned. “You know where I got it.”

  “From your enemy? The Immortal Guardian?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where can I find him?”

  “In a few days, there won’t be anything left for you to find.”

  Montrose shook his head wildly. “You can’t kill him. He isn’t human.”

  Bastien laughed. “Neither is your brother.”

  “But he was once,” Montrose said earnestly.

  Frowning, Bastien studied the man carefully. There was an almost fanatical gleam in his eyes, put there by something he must have found in Roland’s blood.

  “What are you saying, Keegan?”

  Montrose crossed to one of the tables laden with computers, centrifuges, and assorted medical paraphernalia Bastien knew little about and picked up a labeled glass vial with blood in it. “I’m saying Casey may be a vampire now, but he started out human. This man”—he held up the vial—“didn’t. This man was never human.”

  Bastien stared at him.

  What the hell?

  Though Sarah knew it irked him, Roland didn’t go out to hunt that night. They bathed Nietzsche, shared what for others would’ve been dinner, but for them was brunch, did the dishes, let Nietzsche out, brought the cat back in again when he picked a fight with an opossum, then retired to the living room.

  While Sarah caught up on world events through various satellite news channels, Roland paced restlessly. Back and forth. Around and around. Until she couldn’t take it anymore and turned off the television.

  “Roland.”

  “Yes?” he replied absently.

  “Why are you still here?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Shouldn’t you be out hunting?”