Night's Pleasure (Children of The Night 4)

Savanah tried to imagine herself as a Vampire, sleeping by day, hunting for prey at night, never to see the sun again, never to enjoy a turkey dinner at Christmas or a glass of eggnog on New Year’s Eve, never to have children and grandchildren, or do any of the other ordinary things she took for granted.

With a sigh, she turned the page and felt her blood turn to ice. There, in neat black handwriting, she read the names Vincent Cordova, Cara DeLongpre Cordova, Raphael Cordova, Kathy Cordova.

And Rane Cordova.

She stared at the name. It couldn’t be. Not her Rane. It was just a horrible coincidence that he had the same first name as a known Vampire. Sure, he was a shape-shifter, but not a Vampire. He couldn’t be a Vampire. It had to be someone else. But what if it wasn’t? What if he was one of them, a blood drinker, the same kind of despicable creature of the night that had killed her mother?

Even as she tried to deny it, she knew on some deep inner level that it was true. Rane was a Vampire.

It answered so many questions.

It explained so many things.

It explained everything.

Like a splash of cold water came the memory that she had let him make love to her. Let him? She had begged him! Feeling sick to her stomach, she wrapped her arms around her middle and rocked back and forth, and as she did so, she felt something stir within the very depths of her being, something that bubbled up from deep inside her soul like a purifying fountain.

And its name was vengeance.

Chapter Twelve

Rane gazed at the young woman standing pliant in his arms. She was a pretty thing, in her late twenties, with blue-tipped blond hair and green eyes lined with black mascara. Her name was Brandi, and she had been on her way to meet some friends when he waylaid her. He took a deep breath, the scent of her blood arousing his hunger. He savored the anticipation for a moment, then lowered his head and drank, savoring the thick coppery taste on his tongue.

He took only enough to satisfy his hunger, then licked the wounds in the girl’s throat to seal them. By tomorrow, they would be gone. He caressed her cheek, and then he released his hold on her mind and sent her on her way, none the wiser.

He was about to get into his car and head over to Savanah’s place when he was overwhelmed by a rush of Supernatural power. Pivoting on his heel, he came face-to-face with the most beautiful woman he had ever known.

“Mara.”

She stood before him like an enchanted goddess come to life. A white dress clung to her shapely form; her only adornment was a heart-shaped ruby pendant on a fine gold chain. Thick black hair fell over her slender shoulders. Her eyes were a deep, dark green and slightly slanted, like those of a cat. She had been born in Egypt, had known its most famous queen, Cleopatra. Some believed that the blood of pharaohs ran in Mara’s veins, but Rane knew that was only a rumor, perhaps started by Mara herself. According to Vampire lore, she was truly immortal now, impervious to stake or silver, though a well-placed blade could still take her head. Even the sun no longer had any power over her and she walked freely in its light. It was said that whenever she grew weary of her existence, she traveled to Egypt where she rested in the earth of her homeland.

Rising on her tiptoes, she kissed his cheek. “Good evening, my handsome one.”

“What brings you here?” he asked.

She linked her arm with his. “Do I need a reason to visit my godson?”

“No, I guess not.” Mara was a law unto herself. Like Cleopatra of old, she was queen of all she surveyed.

“It’s been too long since I saw you last,” she remarked, urging him to walk with her. “Too long since you’ve seen those you love, those who love you.”

“Did my parents ask you to check up on me?”

“No, though they are naturally worried about you.”

He took a deep breath and blew it out in a wistful sigh. “Are my parents well?”

“Yes, of course, but they miss you. Your mother worries. Your father blames himself for your absence.”

“And Rafe?”

“It pains him that you’ve severed the blood link between you.”

“I doubt if he spends much time thinking about me.”

“Is that bitterness I hear in your voice? If you’re unhappy, you’ve no one to blame but yourself. Go home, Rane. Go home where you belong.”

“I’m not ready.”

“What keeps you here?” Mara asked, and then, with a soft laugh, she answered her own question. “Ah, a woman, of course, The Cordova men are like wild stallions, overflowing with the juices of life.”

“Very funny,” he muttered.

“A woman,” Mara said, and it was no longer a question. She regarded him for several moments, and then shook her head. “You still have not made peace with what you are, have you? The lives you’ve taken still prey on your conscience after all this time.”

He didn’t answer, but there was no need. She knew the truth as well as he did. He didn’t kill often these days, but when he did, the guilt stayed with him, one more stain on his already-black soul. In time, the guilt faded, like everything else, but it never really went away. He remembered each of their faces, the taste of their blood, hot and sweet on his tongue, the faint sigh that always sounded like regret as they breathed their last.

“If it bothers you to take the lives of the young and vibrant, then take those who are sick and eager to go.” She smiled at him; it was a hungry, predatory smile. “Think of it as culling the herd.”

“It doesn’t bother you to take a life? You never regret it?”

She stopped walking and turned to face him. “I am Vampire. It was not something I sought, nor was it bequeathed to me of my own choosing. I could have spent my existence bewailing my fate. Instead, I choose to embrace what I am. I am Nosferatu. It is my nature to hunt, to kill, just as it is yours. If peace is what you are searching for, you will never find it until you fully accept who and what you are. There is no going back, Rane. There is no magic cure. You are what you were born to be.”

“Why do you hide in the night when you can walk in the sun?” he asked, hoping to steer the conversation away from himself.

“The night was my day for many centuries,” she said with a shrug. “After all these years, there is little difference between the night and the day, save the hunting is better in the dark.” She smiled at him again, her eyes aglow. “Come now, let us go and cull the herd.”

He shook his head.

“Ah, Rane, what am I to do with you?” she asked, pouting prettily.