Dead Perfect

by Amanda Ashley

  No matter what else they decided to do, somehow it always ended up in love-making, like the night they decided to watch a movie, and then ended up acting out all the love scenes, and the night they went to the movies and made out like a couple of teenagers in the back row.

  This evening, they had gone out on the balcony to dance under the stars and ended up making love on a blanket in the moonlight.

  “So,” Ronan asked later that night. “Any regrets?”

  She considered for a moment. She was strong and healthy. She would always appear to be twenty-four years old. She wouldn’t age. She would never get sick. She would never have a child…

  “Shannah?”

  “I’m sorry we can’t have children.”

  He nodded. “That’s always been one of my regrets, as well.”

  “Is there no way?”

  “None.”

  It was a fact she would have to accept. And then she frowned as a new thought occurred to her. “I won’t get any older,” she said, “but my parents will. Won’t they wonder why I don’t age? How will I take care of them when they get old?”

  “Some people stay young looking for a long time,” Ronan said.

  “But…”

  “Shannah, love, let’s worry about it when the time comes.”

  She smiled self-consciously. He was right, of course. There was no point in borrowing trouble.

  She trailed her fingertips down his cheek. “Have you always been this wise?”

  “Always,” he said, stifling a grin.

  Her hand trailed down his neck, over his chest, his stomach. “And this handsome?”

  He nodded, his eyes growing hot as her fingers caressed him. “Careful, love,” he murmured.

  She batted her eyelashes at him. “Is something wrong?”

  “Not a thing. But you know, there are always consequences to every action.”

  “Really?” she asked with mock innocence. “What do you think would happen if I did this?” she asked, and trailed her tongue over his chest.

  “I can assure you that this would happen.” His voice was a low growl as he tucked her body beneath his. “If you wake the tiger, you have to pay the price.”

  “Nice kitty,” she said, and burst out laughing, only to gasp with pleasure as he began to caress her.

  “Nice kitty,” she said again. Suddenly breathless, she lifted her hips to receive him, held on tight as he moved deep within her, until it seemed she was floating among the stars, her mind and body melded with his, making it impossible to separate her pleasure from his.

  The dawn came all too soon. Ronan took the usual precautions. He put wards on the doors and windows so that no one would disturb them. They took another quick shower together. Although he could have stayed up for another hour or two, Ronan got into bed, his arm slipping around Shannah’s waist as she slid in beside him. With a little sigh, she snuggled against him, her head pillowed on his shoulder.

  “Good night, my love,” he whispered.

  But she was already asleep.

  They returned home the following night. Because of all the wedding gifts and luggage, Ronan had rented a car at the airport.

  Shannah glanced at Ronan as he pulled into the driveway. Amazing, how quickly one’s life could change, she thought. And how radically it could change. Not so long ago, she had been at death’s door. Now she was a married woman, a married vampire, she amended, with all of eternity before her.

  “Here we are, love,” Ronan murmured as he pulled up in front of the house. “Home sweet home.”

  She laughed softly, thinking how happy she was to be here, with him.

  He opened the car door for her, and she followed him around to the trunk. It was full of wedding gifts, as was the back seat.

  He looked at her and shook his head. “What are we going to do with all this stuff?”

  Shannah shrugged. She had wondered that herself. They really had no need for a toaster or a mixer or for any of the dishes and pots and pans they had received.

  “At least we can use the blankets and the sheets,” she said. “And the quilt my mother made us.”

  Ronan nodded.

  “We can give the rest of the stuff to the Salvation Army, or maybe donate it to a women’s shelter,” Shannah suggested.

  “Let’s leave it here for now,” he said, closing the trunk. “We can decide what to do with it tomorrow…” His voice trailed off and he spun around, peering into the darkness.

  “What is it?” she asked anxiously.

  “Get in the…” His words ended in a groan.

  Shannah gasped as something hot stung her cheek. “Ronan!”

  Her eyes widened in horror when he turned toward her. One side of his face and neck were raw, as though he had been burned with acid.

  “Get inside!” he roared. “Now!”

  She started to ask him what had happened when she saw a movement out of the corner of her eye. Turning her head, she let out a cry of alarm when Jim Hewitt lunged forward, a long wooden stake in one hand, an empty bottle in the other. A bottle she knew must have been filled with holy water.

  She screamed as Hewitt drove the stake into Ronan’s back.

  “Run, Shannah,” Hewitt cried. “My car’s at the end of the driveway.”

  “Stop it!” she screamed. “You’ll kill him!”

  Hewitt’s teeth flashed in a wolfish grin as he twisted the stake in Ronan’s back.

  With a grunt of pain, Ronan dropped to his hands and knees.

  The scent of fresh hot blood wafted through the night.

  With a scream of rage, Shannah grabbed Hewitt by the arm. Startled, he glanced at her. “What are you doing?”

  “Stopping you.” She pulled his hand away from the stake, her fingers curling around his wrist.

  “Are you crazy?” Hewitt exclaimed. “He’s a vampire!”

  “Yes,” she said, baring her fangs. “And so am I.”

  Hewitt’s face paled. And then he lashed out at her.

  Shannah laughed as he struggled in vain to free himself from her hold. And then she caught his gaze with hers.

  “Stop fighting me,” she commanded, somewhat surprised when his arms fell limply to his sides. “Stay there.”

  Letting him go, she dropped down beside Ronan. “Are you all right?”

  “Pull it out,” he said, his voice raw and edged with pain.

  “Out?” Revulsion made her stomach clench when she looked at the stake protruding from his back.

  “Pull it out or push it through,” he said, panting. “Just get the damn thing out of me!”

  Grasping the stake firmly in one hand, she pulled it from his back. A torrent of dark red blood flowed from the nasty wound. The scent of it filled the air.

  Unable to help herself, Shannah licked her lips. So much blood. How could he survive after losing so much? Ripping a strip of cloth from his shirt tail, she stuffed it into the wound to stop the bleeding.

  “Ronan? Are you all right?”

  Grunting softly, he dropped into a sitting position.

  “Your poor face,” Shannah said. She started to stroke his cheek, then drew her hand away, afraid her touch would only make it hurt worse. “And your neck. Does it hurt dreadfully?”

  “Like sin.” His gaze moved over her. “Looks like he got you, too.”

  She lifted a hand to her cheek, flinched when she touched the place where the holy water had splashed her skin. She had only been sprayed by a drop or two but it stung like the devil. She couldn’t imagine the pain Ronan must be in.

  “Are you going to be all right?” she asked.

  He nodded. “The burns will heal, in time.”

  “But…your back.”

  “He missed my heart. The wound’s already healing. Bring him to me.”

  “You’re not…are you going to…?”

  Ronan looked over to where Hewitt stood, held fast by Shannah’s will. “Kill him? I haven’t decided.”

  “I guess I wouldn’t blame you
if you did.”

  Rising, Shannah grabbed Hewitt by the arm. Dragging him toward Ronan, she ordered him to sit down.

  “Release him from your spell,” Ronan said. “I want him to know what’s happening.”

  Shannah did as bidden, then stood back, her teeth worrying her lower lip as she waited to see what Ronan intended to do with the man who had tried to kill him.

  Hewitt’s face went deathly pale when he roused and saw himself looking into the vampire’s blood-red eyes.

  Ronan drew back his lips, exposing his fangs. “I warned you,” he said. “You should have listened.”

  Hewitt swallowed hard.

  Shannah shook off a rush of pity for the man as Ronan pulled him closer. Whatever happened to Jim Hewitt, it was his own fault.

  The stink of Hewitt’s fear stung her nostrils. His terror was a palpable thing as he struggled helplessly in Ronan’s grasp.

  Her mouth watered as Ronan sank his fangs into the vampire hunter’s throat.

  Knowing it would help to ease the pain of his wounds and speed his recovery, Shannah had expected Ronan to drink deeply, but he continued to drink long after she expected him to stop. He drank until Hewitt’s heartbeat fluttered faintly, and then he drank some more.

  “Ronan…”

  He lifted his gaze to hers, his eyes red.

  She feared he was going to kill the man. She couldn’t find it in her heart to fault his decision, and yet…it seemed wrong somehow.

  When Ronan lifted his head, Hewitt lay white-faced and limp in his grasp.

  She looked at her husband and knew he was going to drain Jim Hewitt dry.

  And then Ronan spoke.

  “Hewitt! Listen to me. You have only a few minutes to make up your mind. Do you want to live or die?”

  Hewitt’s eyelids fluttered open, his gaze unfocused, and then he stared into Ronan’s face. He didn’t speak, but it was evident from his expression that he knew what the vampire was asking.

  Shannah glanced from one man to the other. What would Hewitt decide? Would he choose death? Or would he choose to become what he hated? What he had spent his life hunting?

  Though it seemed impossible, Hewitt seemed to grow paler, weaker. Had he chosen death?

  She looked at Ronan. He was all vampire now. His fangs gleamed whitely in the light of the moon. His eyes glowed with a pure red flame. She saw death in those eyes, a burning desire to destroy the mortal who had attacked him viciously and without provocation.

  “Your time is running out,” Ronan said curtly. “Make your choice!”

  “Live.” The word seemed torn from the very depths of Hewitt’s soul. “I want…to live.”

  With a feral cry, Ronan bit into his own wrist. “Then drink,” he said, and his voice was like sandpaper over steel.

  Hewitt grimaced as blood dripped from Ronan’s wrist into his mouth. He choked down the first taste and then he clutched the vampire’s arm in both hands.

  “Damn you!” Hewitt said hoarsely, and then he pulled Ronan’s wrist to his mouth and took his first step into another life.

  Preternatural power stirred on the wings of the night.

  Shannah watched in mingled horror and fascination as the color returned to Hewitt’s face. His breathing returned to normal, his heartbeat grew stronger.

  Moment’s later, Ronan jerked his arm from Hewitt’s grasp. “Enough!”

  Sitting up, Hewitt dragged the back of his hand across his mouth. He stared at the crimson stain on his hand as if he had never seen blood before, and then he looked at Ronan. “Now what?”

  Ronan licked the wound in his wrist, sealing it, and then gained his feet. “Tonight you’ll die…”

  “What?” Hewitt scrambled to his feet, his eyes wide with panic. “I thought that you…”

  Ronan silenced him with a look. “When you wake tomorrow night, you’ll be one of us.” Unlocking the front door, Ronan swung Shannah into his arms and carried her inside. “Enjoy your new life, vampire,” he told Hewitt, and slammed the door.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  “That was cruel,” Shannah said. “To bring him across and then leave him without telling him what to do, what to expect.”

  They were sitting in the living room in front of a roaring fire. Earlier, they had carried their luggage and the useless wedding presents inside. The gifts were now housed in one of the upstairs bedrooms.

  “Cruel?” Ronan muttered. “I could have killed him. I should have killed him. But he’s one of us now.”

  “Born under a dark moon,” Shannah murmured. “Just like me. How will he get by, with no one to help him?”

  “The man’s been hunting vampires for years. He, more than most mortals, should know what to do.”

  “I guess so,” Shannah murmured somewhat dubiously. Then, with a sigh, she snuggled closer to his side. “I hope he’ll be as happy as I am, but I don’t know how he could be, since he doesn’t have you.”

  Ronan lifted one brow, and then he laughed. “Ah, Shannah, whatever did I do without you in my life?”

  “I don’t know,” she replied seriously. “But you’ll never be without me again.”

  Taking her into his arms, he slid down onto the floor, his hands divesting her of her clothing while he rained kisses over each inch of exposed flesh.

  He lay back, a faint smile curving his lips when she straddled his hips and began to undress him.

  “All’s fair in love and war,” she said, grinning.

  “And what is this?” he asked, then grunted when she punched him in the arm.

  “Don’t you know?” she asked with mock ferocity.

  “Love,” he said, pulling her down on top of him. “Definitely love.”

  “Yes,” she murmured as he claimed her lips with his. “Oh, yes!”

  It was definitely love, she thought as he lifted her into his arms. He carried her up the stairs to their bedroom where he made slow, sweet love to her until the sun came up.

  Later, her head pillowed on his shoulder, she wondered why she had fought against becoming a vampire when it was really quite wonderful.

  She smiled a sleepy smile when Ronan whispered that he loved her.

  “I love you more,” she murmured.

  With a sigh, she closed her eyes, secure in his dark embrace and in the knowledge that she would wake at his side on the morrow and for all the tomorrows of her life.

  Dear Reader:

  Once again, we come to the end of the journey. I hope you enjoyed Shannah’s story as much as I did.

  Once again, I want to thank Joseph Walsh for allowing me to use his poetry, and I want to thank my editor, Kate Duffy, for her help and encouragement along the way.

  I recently finished a sequel to Night’s Touch, which will hopefully be out later this year. At the moment, I’m working on a new book.

  I hope life is being kind to you, and that you stop often to voice your love for those you hold dear, and always remember to count your blessings.

  God bless you,

  Amanda

  www.amandaashley.com

  DarkWritr@aol.com

  If you loved this Amanda Ashley book,

  then you won’t want to miss any of

  her other fabulous vampire stories

  from Zebra Books!

  Following is a sneak peak…

  NIGHT’S TOUCH

  Cara DeLongpre wandered into the mysterious Nocturne club looking for a fleeting diversion from her sheltered life. Instead she found a dark, seductive stranger whose touch entices her beyond the safety she’s always known and into a heady carnal bliss…

  A year ago, Vincent Cordova believed that vampires existed only in bad movies and bogeyman stories. That was before a chance encounter left him with unimaginable powers, a hellish thirst, and an aching loneliness he’s sure will never end…until the night he meets Cara DeLongpre. Cara’s beauty and bewitching innocence call to his mind, his heart…his blood. For Vincent senses the Dark Gift shared by Cara’s parents, and the lurk
ing threat from an ancient and powerful foe. And he knows that the only thing more dangerous than the enemy waiting to seek its vengeance is the secret carried by those Cara trusts the most…

  Cara Aideen Delongpre sipped her drink, too preoccupied with her own thoughts to pay any attention to the crowd and the noise that surrounded her. She had grown up knowing her mother and father weren’t like other parents. Once she had started going to school, she had discovered a whole new world. Other kids went on vacation with their parents when school was out. They went out to dinner and to the zoo and to Disneyland and Sea World. They had birthday parties at Chuck E. Cheese’s. Other kids had brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, and cousins and grandparents. When Cara asked why she didn’t have brothers or sisters or aunts and uncles, her father had explained that her mother couldn’t have children, and that he and her mother didn’t have any siblings, and that her grandparents had all passed away.

  It was a perfectly logical explanation, but it didn’t make her feel any less lonely. It would have been nice to have a sister she could share confidences with.

  What wasn’t logical was the fact that, in over twenty years, her parents hadn’t changed at all. She told herself she was being foolish, that she was overreacting, imagining things. But there was no arguing with the proof of her own eyes. They both looked exactly the way they had when Cara was a little girl. Her mother never gained or lost an ounce. Her face was as smooth and clear as it had always been. The same was true of her father. Roshan DeLongpre looked like a man in his mid-thirties, and he had looked that way for as long as Cara could remember. He had taken her to the movies one night last week and they had run into a couple of Cara’s acquaintances. Before she could introduce her father, her friend, Cindy, had taken her aside and asked how long she had been dating that “good looking older man.”

  Cara stared into her drink, wishing she had the nerve to ask her parents why Di Giorgio aged and they didn’t, why their lifestyle was so different from everyone else’s. She knew about their aversion to the sun and their liquid diet, but why did that keep them from other normal activities? Why did they encourage her to make friends, but discourage her from bringing them home? And why did they keep the door to their bedroom locked during the day? What were they doing in there?