After Sundown

by Amanda Ashley

  "You can refuse, of course."

  He didn't have to ask what the consequences for Marisa would be. Khira was a killer, quick and efficient and without remorse. He took a step toward her. He could kill, too, if need be.

  He took another step forward and her power slammed into him, driving the breath from his body. Twin flames burned in her eyes, flowed across the space between them, poured over him like liquid fire. Though she hadn't moved, he could feel her hand at his throat, slowly choking off his breath.

  "All right." He forced the word through clenched teeth. "You made your point."

  She held him in her grasp another minute, then let him go.

  He felt suddenly limp. Had he been alone, he would have dropped to his hands and knees, but he refused to give her the satisfaction.

  "You always were stubborn," she mused. "And strong. Though, in time, I think Ramsey will be stronger, even stronger than he is now." She gazed into the distance, considering what she had said. "Perhaps when our year is over, mi cara, I will persuade him to be my companion for a time…"

  "Ramsey can fend for himself. Where is Marisa? I want to see her. Now."

  Khira shook her head. "You can be quite wearisome at times, did you know that?"

  "Damn it!"

  Khira laughed softly. "Very well, you may see her." She stood up. "Follow me."

  He paid little attention to the rooms they passed through, save to note that all the windows were covered with heavy black cloth.

  Khira paused when they reached a narrow door off the kitchen. "She is down there. You will not be able to awake her."

  "What have you done?"

  "She is unharmed, only deeply asleep."

  Brushing past Khira, he opened the door. A long flight of stairs led him into what had once been a wine cellar. Dozens of dusty cobwebs festooned the ceiling and corners of the room. He could hear the sound of mice scurrying away, smell the decay of rotting wood.

  He sensed a presence in the room. Not Marisa. Though he detected her scent, he had no sense of her being there. Two heartbeats. One very faint. One heavy and dull.

  He made his way through the darkness to another door. Taking a deep breath, afraid of what he might see, he opened the door and stepped into the room.

  It was small and square. A man, or what had once been a man, sat in a chair in the corner, his eyes vacant, his expression empty. He stood up as Grigori entered the room, but Grigori paid him no mind. His attention was focused on the narrow cot pushed against the far wall, and the woman lying on the cot. Marisa. Her face was pale, her lips slightly parted. Her breathing was slow and shallow. A thick chain made of pure silver shackled her left ankle to the frame of the cot.

  He thought briefly of picking her up, cot and all, and making a run for it. But there was only one way out of the cellar, and Khira stood there, waiting. He could hear her breathing, hear the slow, steady beat of her heart.

  He crossed the floor. Sitting on the edge of the thin mattress, he drew Marisa into his arms. She was limp, almost lifeless. No dreams played in her mind.

  "Marisa." He whispered her name. "Marisa."

  There was no response. He tried to speak to her mind, but it was closed against him. He held her for a long while, rocking her gently as he would a child, his fingers delving into the silk of her hair, sliding over the curve of her cheek. Marisa. He remembered the night he had first seen her at the carnival. She had asked him if he had come to see the vampire, and he had replied yes, and then asked her if she believed in the undead. She hadn't believed, not then. Had he stayed out of her life, she would not be here now. Even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew that, had he not followed her home that night, she would have been dead, or worse, at Kristov's hands months ago. He gazed down at her, a finger tracing the line of her bottom lip. She didn't stir, barely breathed. She was so young, so innocent still—he could not let Khira take her life. Perhaps it was time to give her up. Perhaps a year without him would give her the time she needed to decide whether or not she had made a mistake in marrying him.

  Lowering his head, he kissed her gently, then laid her back on the cot. If she left him, he would have no reason to go on.

  A last glance, a last touch, and he left the room.

  Khira was waiting for him at the top of the stairs. "Well?"

  "Release her."

  "No."

  "You can't keep her trapped like that for a year!"

  "I can." She held up her hand, cutting off his protest. "But I will release her, Grigori, if you will give me your word of honor that you will come with me to Italy for one year. That you will not contact her during that time; that you will do whatever I wish."

  Interesting, he thought, that she would ask for his word of honor when she had none herself. "I'll give you a year, but not in Italy."

  "And if I insist?"

  He glanced at Marisa. "Then I will do what you want.'' He looked up at her and forced a smile. "But I think you will be better…" He took a step forward, his fingertips stroking her cheek, sliding down her neck.

  "… satisfied, shall we say, if you give in on this one small point."

  She regarded him for several heartbeats and then nodded. "Very well. But you are not to contact her in any way. I will know if you do."

  "Agreed."

  "I suppose you will want to say good-bye?"

  "I want this night with her."

  She nodded, a queen granting a boon to a peasant. "Very well. I shall expect you back here tomorrow at dusk." Her eyes grew hard and cold. "Do not keep me waiting," she warned. "You will not like what happens to her if I have to come after you."

  With a curt nod, he turned away. He wanted to run down the stairs to Marisa; instead, he forced himself to walk.

  She was as he had left her: deeply asleep, pale, barely breathing. He looked at the man. "Release her."

  The revenant moved with the jerky movements peculiar to his kind as he reached into his pocket, withdrew a key, and unlocked the shackle from Marisa's ankle.

  Lifting her into his arms, Grigori carried her up the stairs and into the drawing room. Khira stood in front of a large marble fireplace. She turned as he entered the room.

  "Wake her."

  "That sounds very much like a demand on your part. I don't like demands."

  He choked back his anger. "Khira, I beg of you, please awaken her."

  A rush of power swirled around him. Marisa stirred in his arms, sighed heavily. The color returned to her cheeks.

  "She will awake when you reach home."

  With a nod, Grigori left the mansion. Moments later, he was at home. A look roused a fire in the hearth. Pulling a chair up in front of the fireplace, he sat down with Marisa cradled against his chest.

  She yawned, stretched, looked up at him through eyes cloudy with sleep, and then, noticing her surroundings, she sat up.

  "What are we doing down here? Why didn''t you come to bed last night?" She looked at the window, frowning when she saw that it was dark outside. She glanced down at her clothing, recognizing the jeans and sweatshirt she had put on earlier that day. "What happened today? What happened to today?"

  "It's a long story, cara."

  She looked at him, troubled by his tone, by the somber expression on his face. "It's bad, isn't it? I don't think I want to hear it, after all."

  "Marisa, why don't you go take a bath, and then get something to eat? I have an errand to run, but I won't be gone long."

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Where are you going?"

  "I need to go out."

  Her gaze moved over him.' 'You've already fed. Where are you going?"

  "All in good time, cara. I won't be gone long."

  Rising, he placed her on her feet. Tipping her head up, he kissed her. She leaned into him, softly yielding, her warmth, her scent, enfolding him. How could he leave her?

  She was breathless when he released her. "I love you," she murmured. "Hurry back."

  It was Kelly who answered th
e door. She looked much the same as when he had seen her last, and yet his vampyre eyes saw the changes in her, subtle though they might be. The Dark Gift had worked its magic. Her beauty was subtly enhanced; she moved with the smooth, easy grace so common to his kind.

  "I need to see Ramsey," Grigori said. "Now."

  "He's in the living room. Is something wrong?"

  He nodded curtly.

  "Come on in," she said, and stepped back so he could enter the house. "Ramsey!"

  "I'm here. You don't have to shout." Ramsey frowned when he saw the rage burning in the other vampire's eyes. "What's wrong?"

  "In a word, Khira. I have agreed to go spend a year with her. In return, she has agreed to let Marisa live."

  "Are you out of your mind?" Ramsey asked incredulously. "She's already destroyed all the other vampires."

  "Not all. Rosa had a fledgling. Lisa. She is weak, still new. Khira will destroy her, too, if I don't do as she says."

  Ramsey observed Chiavari through hooded eyes. "She's going too far. She's got to be stopped. And you know it."

  "Spoken like a true vampyre hunter," Chiavari said bitterly. "I felt her power again today. I fear she is too strong for me. Too strong for you, no matter what happened the other night. It might interest you to know that she may have plans for you after my year is done."

  "Alexi was strong, too," Ramsey said. "Too strong for either of us. But together we destroyed him." He smiled wryly. "And I was not half the man I am today, thanks to you."

  "You do not understand! Marisa's life is at risk!"

  "And you think Khira will keep her word to you?" Ramsey shook his head. "You're not thinking clearly."

  Grigori smiled sadly. "It is you who are not thinking clearly. I have no choice but to do as Khira says."

  "Like hell! We could…"

  "She is probably listening to our conversation, even now," Grigori interjected quickly.

  Ramsey shrugged. "Then she would be like the condemned man in his cell, knowing the appointed hour of his doom but unable to do anything about it."

  Chiavari looked at Ramsey as if he had never seen him before. "Being Vampyre has given you a certain arrogance…"

  "Perhaps I always had it," Ramsey said. "It but needed the Dark Gift to bring it out."

  "This is foolish talk," Chiavari insisted. "I came here to ask a favor of you."

  Ramsey laughed. "What better favor than to destroy your nemesis?"

  "I want you to protect Marisa."

  "What do you think I'm trying to do, you fool?" Ramsey swore. "Marisa will never be safe as long as Khira walks. Don't you understand that?"

  "You are out of your depth, Ramsey. Just protect Marisa, while I do what I must. I won't be allowed to contact Marisa, so I'm depending on you to be there if she needs help with anything. Understand?"

  Ramsey nodded. "I understand you're a damn fool. Don't worry about Marisa. I'll look after her. But think, Chiavari; think very carefully. Think of Lisa, who will certainly die. Think of…" He paused. "Think of Kelly. Not to mention all the innocents that Khira will slaughter. Damn it, use your head! You are letting your affection from years past cloud your thinking. None of us will be safe so long as Khira exists."

  Chiavari nodded. "For once, you are right. I will go with Khira and keep her occupied until we can think of a way to destroy her, together. I am trusting you to protect Marisa until then."

  Ramsey nodded, looking pleased.

  "Know this, Ramsey. If anything happens to Marisa while I am playing house with Khira, I will give you the death you once came looking for."

  Chapter 30

  Grigori stood in front of the house he shared with Marisa, imprinting it on his mind so he could picture her here while he was away. A year wasn't such a long time, he told himself again, but a year without Marisa… it would seem like an eternity.

  Muttering an oath, he climbed the porch stairs and opened the front door. Her scent enveloped him the moment he entered the house, and he took a deep breath, as if to inhale her very essence.

  "Grigori?"

  He moved into the living room. "Why are you sitting in the dark?" He crossed the room and sat down beside her on the sofa.

  "I don't know. It just seemed…" She shrugged. "I don't know."

  He slid his arm around her shoulders and drew her closer.

  "I love you," she whispered, snuggling against him.

  "Ah, cara…"

  "I've been sitting here, trying to guess what bad news you'd bring home." Her fingertips drifted over his cheek. "It is bad, isn't it?"

  "That depends," he replied, "on how you feel about separate vacations."

  "What?"

  There was no easy way to say it, no way to make it sound better than it was. "I'm going to move in with Khira."

  Marisa stared at him. She would have thought he was joking save for the expression on his face. She felt suddenly sick to her stomach. "Move in? With her?"

  He nodded. "For a year."

  Marisa shook her head. "Why?" She wanted to say, "What about me?" but she was afraid of the answer.

  He told her the rest of it as gently as he could—how Khira had threatened to kill her if he refused.

  "So you're going to live with her, because of me?"

  "Cara, what else can I do?"

  "I don't know." She wanted to cry, to scream, to pound her fists against his chest and demand that he think of something. "When?"

  "Tomorrow night."

  "So soon?" Rising, she went to stand in front of the window, her back to him so he couldn't see her tears.

  He sat there a moment, listening to the tears roll down her cheeks, and then he went to stand behind her, close but not touching. Waiting.

  She turned and buried her face against his shoulder. "Why is she doing this?"

  Grigori shrugged. "Who can say why she does what she does? She is easily bored. Perhaps she will grow tired of me before the year is out."

  Marisa shook her head. No woman, mortal or vampire, would ever grow tired of such a man.

  "I'm afraid, Grigori." She wrapped her arms around his waist. "I'm afraid I'll never see you again."

  "Hush, cara. It will be all right. A year is not so long."

  "Maybe not to you. Please don't go. Let's leave town. Now, tonight."

  "Marisa, there is no way you can hide from her."

  "But you can, can't you?"

  He nodded. "I could go to ground, but you and I would still be apart. And I cannot—I will not—take a chance on her taking her anger at me out on you."

  She looked up at him, making a valiant effort not to cry. "What will I do without you for a whole year?"

  "Spend it doing whatever you wish. Finish decorating the house. Go see your family. Take a vacation."

  She nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat.

  "This might be a good time for you to rethink our relationship."

  "What do you mean?"

  Taking her hand, he led her to the sofa and drew her down beside him. "Marisa, take a good look at me. You know what I am, how I live. Think about it while I'm gone. We have talked about bringing you over. This will give you a chance to decide if it is what you really want."

  "You're tired of me, aren't you? That's what this is all about."

  A vile oath escaped his lips. "You don't mean that."

  "Then why aren't you more upset by it all? You tell me to do whatever I want, take a vacation. I want to be with you."

  His knuckles brushed her cheek. "Marisa…"

  "Go on," she said, bolting to her feet. "Go play with Khira for a year. Two years! I don't care."

  "You don't mean that."

  "Don't I?" She had truly hurt him now. She could see it in his eyes. But it was nothing compared to the hurt she was feeling. She held herself stiff and cold, a cold that radiated from her frozen heart. "I thought you loved me…"

  "Cara, cara… "He reached for her, and for the first time in their relationship, she pulled away. He dropped
his hands by his side and stood, stricken.

  "I asked Ramsey to look after you while I'm away," he said woodenly. "To protect you."

  "Isn't Ramsey afraid of Khira, too?" she asked bitterly. "If she is such a fearsome creature, how can he be expected to protect me, if you can't?"

  "Marisa… damn it, Marisa, I've got to go with her. There are things you don't know, things I can't tell you! Not when your life hangs in the balance."

  "I know enough. Khira calls, and you come running. She is quite beautiful, after all…" She forced a smile. "Don't worry about me; I'll be fine."

  Grigori reacted as if she had slapped him. "Marisa…"

  She had never heard his voice so full of pain and longing. But she steeled herself against it.

  Grigori felt her resistance. His reaction came naturally, his power reaching out.

  Marisa's lips twisted as she felt his power gather in the room. "Will you use your vampire power against me now? Force me to do your will? One last quickie with me before you go to her?"

  Her words stopped him cold. "I had better go," he said stiffly. "Good-bye, cara. I have always loved you…" He turned away.

  And her rebel heart melted, all in a rush. "Grigori…"

  He stopped, still not looking at her. "Yes?"

  She laid a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry. Look at me."

  He turned slowly. Marisa tilted her head back so she could look into Grigori's eyes. "I love you so much. I'll always love you. Nothing, no one, can ever change that."

  She took his hands in hers. "Can we… do we have time to say a proper good-bye?"

  He groaned low in his throat. "Oh, my sweet, sweet love," he murmured brokenly, "we'll make the time."

  She was crying openly as he lifted her into his arms. He carried her swiftly up the stairs. With a thought, he kindled a fire in the hearth. As the flames flickered, he stood her gently on her feet and lifted her T-shirt over her head. Then he slid her jeans slowly down her legs. He removed her bra and panties with slow deliberation, his eyes burning brighter and hotter than the flames in the fireplace.

  She felt their minds join in the sweet familiar way. Excitement rippled through her as his hands glided over her body, awaking her, arousing her. She purred with feminine satisfaction that was leavened with grief and sadness.