After Sundown

by Amanda Ashley

  By the time he returned to the house, she had eaten dinner and was usually in the living room, watching TV or reading a book. He was aware of her constant furtive looks, knew she was curious about him. Curious. And attracted. And repelled.

  Her warmth, her very life, drew him like a beacon. He basked in her nearness, delighted in the hours they spent together. He bought a chess set and taught her to play. She bought a game of Scrabble and beat him every time. During those times, with his hunger assuaged, the intimacy between them was almost too much for him. She drew him like a magnet, but still he resisted. Sometimes he had the feeling his resistance disappointed her. It would have been so easy to probe her mind, to see what she was thinking, but he had promised he would not.

  He had told her to make herself at home, and she took him at his word. Soon, his house, once devoid of any but the bare essentials, began to look like a home. There were pictures on the walls, mostly seascapes; flowering plants in colorful pots on the tables; colorful figurines of dragons and wizards on a shelf.

  Sometimes, sitting in the living room while she fussed in the kitchen, he could almost pretend he was human again, a mortal man living with a beautiful woman. He had never lived with a woman before, never truly realized what enchanting, changeable creatures they were. She filled his house with light, made him laugh in spite of himself. She had a lovely, clear voice. He enjoyed listening to her sing while she washed the dishes or cleaned the house.

  By the end of the second week, it seemed as though she had always been there. As the third week came to an end, he was convinced that she was as attracted to him as he was to her, despite her continued deep-seated revulsion at what he was.

  And now the end of the fourth week was drawing near. He had fed early this night, wanting to spend more time at home, with her. He sat in the living room staring at the TV, trying to work up the nerve to ask Kelly if she would stay another month, wondering what he would do if she refused. He could hear her in the kitchen, opening cupboard doors.

  He looked up as she breezed into the room. A month of having enough to eat and getting plenty of rest had made a marked change in her appearance. Her skin was smooth and clear; the dark shadows were gone from her eyes. Her cheeks were no longer hollow; her figure had filled out, making him all too aware of her sweet feminine form.

  "I'm hungry," she said. "Think I'll go out to eat."

  "I always eat out," he muttered sourly.

  She looked at him a moment, brown eyes wide with surprise, and then she laughed.

  "What's so funny?"

  "Well, that's the first thing I thought when I looked for something to eat my first day here, that you always 'eat out.' Were you reading my mind already?"

  He was stung by her accusation but could not deny it. "I have not read your mind since I promised I would not."

  Her expression softened then. "You're really very sweet when you want to be, you know that?"

  He didn't know what to say to that, and she laughed again—a merry trill.

  "What's so funny now?" He almost glared at her.

  "I never imagined a vampire could blush," she said.

  And it was true. He could feel his ears burning. But the glow was in her eyes again. She laid a gentle hand on his forearm.

  "Come with me," she coaxed. "I don't like to eat alone." And then that devilish merriment took over again. "You should understand that," she said, grinning at him. "You never do. Eat alone, I mean."

  This time he laughed in spite of himself. "All right," he agreed. "What are you in the mood for?"

  It seemed strange to be talking about food. Though it had been only a few months since he had become a vampire, it seemed as if centuries had passed. His was a warm liquid diet now. He tried not to think of all the things he would never taste again: rare steak, succulent lobster, potato chips, a good cup of coffee, apple pie, ice cream on a hot summer day.

  "Italian," Kelly decided. "Let's go to the Olive Garden."

  In the past, it had been one of his favorite places. She ordered veal parmigiana, soup, and salad. He ordered a bottle of red wine and sipped a glass while she ate. He couldn't decide which tempted him the most: the meal he couldn't eat, or the girl sitting across from him. Light played in her silky black hair. Her skin was soft and smooth, her cheeks the color of ripe peaches, her lips full and pink and tempting.

  Once, she looked up and caught him watching her. Her cheeks flushed hotly, and she looked down at her plate again. "Do you want to try a bite?"

  A bite. His gaze moved to her neck, to the pulse beating in the hollow of her throat, as he shook his head.

  "Have you tried to eat since you became a… you know? How do you know you can't?" She speared a piece of meat and offered it to him. "Try it."

  The smell of veal filled his nostrils and turned his stomach. "I can't."

  He must have looked as green as he felt, because she withdrew the fork and said, "I believe you. I'm sorry."

  "So am I," he replied. "More than you can ever imagine."

  They finished the meal in silence.

  After dinner, they drove to the beach and walked barefoot along the shore. It was a calm, clear night. The moon painted ever-changing silver shadows on the water.

  After a while, they stopped to watch the waves. Ramsey's gaze moved over Kelly. She looked beautiful standing there with the ocean behind her. Moonlight shimmered like molten silver in her hair; her skin looked soft and oh, so touchable. He wished, not for the first time, that he possessed a little of Chiavari's easy charm with women.

  "Kelly?" He took a deep breath, the need to kiss her stronger than his need for blood. He knew he should turn away, afraid that one kiss would not be enough. Afraid that a taste of her lips would ignite his hellish thirst. But she was looking up at him, her brown eyes shining in the moonlight, her lips slightly parted, moist, inviting. He cleared his throat. The kisses they had shared at the movies had been much in his mind, but he had lacked the courage to kiss her again, afraid of being rebuffed. "I was drinking about the other night, at the movies…"

  "Were you? So was I."

  "What were you thinking?" he asked.

  "I was thinking maybe we should kiss again—you know, to see if it was as wonderful as I remember."

  "Kelly…" He swept her into his arms, a part of him still expecting her to push him away or slap his face or laugh out loud, but she did none of those things. Instead, she leaned into him, her head tilting up, her eyelids fluttering down.

  And he kissed her, there in the moonlight. Kissed her, and it wasn't enough. He wanted to inhale her, to drink her essence, to absorb her very soul into his own. She was sweet, so sweet. Heat sizzled between them, hotter than the sun he would never see again. Why had he waited so long?

  "Oh, Edward…"

  She looked up at him, breathless. She was soft and warm and willing. He covered her face with kisses, whispered praises to her beauty as he adored her with his hands and his lips. He closed his eyes, and desire rose up within him, hot and swift, and with it the overpowering urge to feed. He fought against it. He had fed well before coming here, yet the Hunger rose up within him, gnawing at his vitals, urging him to take what he wanted.

  "This is crazy," she murmured breathlessly. "We hardly know each other."

  "Crazy," he agreed. Her scent surrounded him. The rapid beat of her heart called to the beast within him. He deepened the kiss, at war with himself, felt his fangs lengthen in response to his growing hunger.

  With a little cry, she drew back. She touched her lower lip, now stained with a drop of scarlet. He watched, hungry and horrified, as she licked the blood from her lip.

  "Forgive me," he said hoarsely. "I did not mean to…"

  "It's all right, Edward, but maybe we'd better… hmm… slow down a little."

  His arms dropped to his sides and he backed away from her. "We should go home."

  He was quiet on the drive back to the house. Kelly studied him surreptitiously as he drove. How could she be att
racted to this man who wasn't a man at all? Worse yet, she was afraid she was falling in love with him.

  Vampire. The word whispered through her mind, conjuring images of wraithlike figures in swirling black capes, pale skin, bloodless lips.

  There were times when Edward looked pale, but he didn't look like a monster. More like a middle-aged beach boy with his athletic build, golden hair, and bright-blue eyes.

  Vampire. Even now, after living with him for almost a month, after letting him drink her blood every day, it was hard to believe. Sometimes, sitting on the sofa watching TV, they seemed like any normal couple spending a quiet evening at home.

  She licked her lips, remembering the wonder of his kisses, his horror when he saw the blood on her mouth. Was she insane to stay with him, to put her life in his hands? What if some night, instead of taking a few drops of her blood, he took it all?

  The thought chilled her, and she wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold.

  "Are you all right?" Ramsey asked.

  "Fine."

  His gaze met hers, seeming to probe her very soul. "Second thoughts?"

  "Not really."

  He pulled into the garage, switched off the ignition. "Do not lie to me, Kelly."

  She sighed deeply. "Sometimes it's just so hard to believe."

  "Yes, I know what you mean. There are nights when I wake up and for a minute I almost forget, and then…"

  "Then?"

  "I hear your heartbeat, and I feel that damnable hunger stir to life inside me."

  "Do you ever see the vampire who made you?"

  Ramsey nodded. "He lives not too far from here."

  The knowledge surprised her. "Are there a lot of vampires running around in the city?" It was hard enough to accept that there could be one; more than that was inconceivable.

  "More than you might think. I know of four besides myself."

  "Who are they?"

  "Chiavari, he is the one who brought me across. And then there's Khira, who brought him across. Noah Fox…"

  "The billionaire businessman! I don't believe it."

  "It's true. Me, of course. And Madame Rosa."

  Kelly laughed. "Madame Rosa? You're kidding! I saw her on the Leno show one night. She was amazing."

  "I don't imagine any of them will be around much longer."

  "Why not?"

  "Khira."

  Kelly looked at him askance.

  "She's a very old vampire, and very powerful. And she doesn't like to share territory with other vampires. She's already gotten rid of two of them. Shall we go inside?"

  "Yes, let's." Kelly slid out of the car and glanced over her shoulder, her gaze probing the shadows.

  "It is all right," Ramsey said. "We are alone."

  He felt her relax when they were in the house, with the lights on and the doors locked. "You will always be safe here," he said. " A peculiar truth about vampires is that they cannot enter a dwelling without being invited. And Khira has never been invited." He paused. "Kelly?"

  "Yes?"

  "You must never, under any circumstances, invite a stranger into this house. No one. Not ever!"

  She regarded him through eyes wide with trepidation and curiosity. "What does she look like? Khira?"

  He shook his head impatiently. "It doesn't matter… she has incredible powers… but she cannot force her way in here. Never open the door for anyone you don't know. It's the only way you can be safe here when I'm away. Promise me!"

  "All right, all right. Geez, stop worrying. I promise." She looked at him, a smile hovering over her lips despite the seriousness of their conversation. "I don't want anyone nibbling on my neck but you." She squeezed his arm. "I like it that you're so protective of me, Edward. It makes me feel safe." And then, with one of those sudden changes of direction he was getting accustomed to, she tilted her head to one side, regarding him with unabashed curiosity. "Do vampires ever get married?"

  "Some do."

  "Do they marry other vampires?"

  "I don't know about that. I only know of one who is married, and he is married to a mortal."

  "Who's that?"

  "Chiavari."

  "Could we visit them? I'd like to meet a woman married to a vampire." Her eyes were glowing again. "Maybe she has something to share with me, some advice. You know, how to keep your vampire happy?"

  He closed his eyes. Marisa. Once, he had hoped to make her his wife.

  "Edward?"

  "Sure." He opened his eyes and Marisa's image faded from his mind. "I'll call them."

  They agreed to meet at a nearby theater the following night. A double date, Ramsey mused. He had never been on a double date in his whole life.

  Kelly came downstairs dressed in a pair of slinky black pants and a pale-pink sweater. Her hair fell over her shoulders like a fall of black silk. She smiled nervously when she saw him waiting for her. "Maybe this isn't such a good idea."

  "We can stay home," Ramsey said, hoping she would change her mind. He wasn't crazy about the idea of spending the evening with Chiavari and Marisa.

  She thought about it a minute, then shrugged. "Let's go."

  Ramsey spotted Chiavari's black Corvette when they pulled into the theater parking lot. Chiavari and Marisa were waiting outside the theater.

  Marisa looked beautiful as always, her face framed in a cloud of dark-brown hair, her green eyes bright with life.

  They spent a moment making introductions. Marisa shook Kelly's hand, kissed Edward on the cheek. Chiavari bought their tickets, and they entered the lobby.

  "Grigori, would you get me some popcorn?"

  "My pleasure, cara. Kelly, can I get you anything?"

  "A Coke, please."

  The three of them stood to one side, waiting for Chiavari. Ramsey felt Chiavari's power crawl over his skin, so strong, so unmistakable, he wondered that the other people in the theater didn't feel it as well.

  "I must admit I was surprised when Grigori told me you'd called," Marisa said.

  Ramsey smiled at Kelly. "I was a little surprised myself."

  "Have you two known each other long?" Marisa asked, glancing from Edward to Kelly and back again.

  "A few weeks." Kelly and Edward answered at the same time.

  "Let's go," Chiavari said. He handed the popcorn to Marisa, a Coke to Kelly. "The show's about to start."

  The lights dimmed as they took their seats. Settling back, Ramsey wondered what the audience would think if they knew there were two vampires in their midst. It seemed suddenly funny—ludicrous, even—that he should be there. He had never thought of vampires as going out on dates. Even though he had known it wasn't true, in his mind he had always pictured the undead forever lurking in the dark-gray shadows of midnight, preying on the young and the helpless.

  About halfway through the show, Marisa leaned toward Ramsey. "Does Kelly know?" she whispered.

  He nodded, and she smiled at him. She smelled of lavender soap and warm womanly flesh. And Chiavari. The vampire's scent clung to her, a clear mark of possession. Once, the thought of her being with Chiavari would have roused his jealousy, but no more. Impossible as it seemed, Kelly had become his world, his reason for continuing his existence.

  They went out for a late dinner after the movie. Marisa and Kelly chatted like two old friends, discussing the movie they had just seen, the latest White House scandal, the outrageous new fall fashions.

  Chiavari insisted on picking up the check. While he paid the bill, Marisa took Ramsey aside. "She's charming, Edward. I think she's in love with you."

  "What?"

  "You heard me."

  "Don't be ridiculous. What woman would love me now?"

  "Edward, you're a wonderful man. Why shouldn't she love you?"

  "It's not right." But his pulse was accelerating nonetheless. Could it be true… ?

  "Why not?" Marisa asked.

  For a moment, he wondered if she was reading his thoughts. "She is alive. I am not. It's as easy as that."

&nb
sp; "Oh, for goodness' sakes! You're not dead. The dead don't walk and talk."

  "All right, undead. Not dead. Call it whatever you want, it just isn't natural for her to be with someone like me."

  "So, you don't think I should be with Grigori?"

  "You know I don't."

  "Edward, get over it. You're the same man you always were."

  He laughed at that—a harsh, ugly laugh filled with bitterness. "No, Marisa, I am not."

  "Grigori and I are happy together, Edward. There's no reason why you and Kelly can't have a good life together."

  "How can you even think that? Chiavari is no good for you. He never was. Sooner or later, you will regret being his wife."

  Marisa shook her head. "No, never."

  Kelly had been watching them; now she came over. "Is something wrong?"

  Ramsey smiled at her. "No, nothing's wrong." It was a good thing he couldn't eat anything, he mused, because a lie like that would certainly have brought it all back up.

  Kelly was unusually quiet as they drove back home. Time and again, he considered probing her mind to learn what was wrong, but he had promised not to invade her thoughts. And even if he hadn't promised, what right did he have to invade her privacy just because he could?

  "Is something wrong?" he asked.

  "What? Oh, no, nothing. Marisa's very nice, isn't she?"

  He nodded.

  "They seem very happy together."

  He nodded again.

  "He's very handsome."

  Ramsey swore under his breath.

  "He's very powerful, isn't he?"

  "Do we have to talk about him?"

  "Why, Edward, I believe you're jealous." She looked at him, her expression shrewd. "You are jealous, aren't you? Because I think he's handsome?" She frowned when he didn't answer. "Because of her? That's it, isn't it? You were in love with her. Are you still?"

  "It doesn't matter anymore."

  Her teeth worried her lower lip for a moment. "Maybe I'd better leave."

  "No!"

  "I think it's for the best."