Night's Mistress (Children of The Night 5)

He might have kissed her a third time if Derek hadn’t chosen that moment to make his presence known.

Forcing herself to smile at Kyle, Mara slipped out of his arms, grateful for an excuse to pull away.

“There is nothing like the sound of new life,” Father Lanzoni said with a grin. “Let us baptize the child before he gets any older, or any louder.”

Leaving the altar, they gathered around the baptismal font. Mara held Derek as the priest dipped his fingers into the font, which Mara knew was filled with water that the priest himself had blessed, rendering it harmless to his touch. She listened to the words the priest spoke as he baptized her son, Derek Bowden, a child that might or might not be a vampire. She couldn’t help smiling inwardly as she imagined how bizarre it would seem to an outsider—a vampire priest baptizing a human child while eight other vampires looked on.

Kyle took Mara’s hand and gave it a squeeze as the priest made the sign of the cross on the baby’s forehead. Derek had stopped crying and as Mara gazed lovingly into her son’s eyes, she wondered why he needed to be baptized. Derek was young and innocent, incapable of sin or sinning. What need did he have for forgiveness?

She felt a twinge of conscience. If anyone needed forgiveness, it was she. She glanced at her new husband, wondering if he would still love her if he knew all of the horrible things she had done in ages past, the many lives she had taken to prolong her own, the lives she had ruined inadvertently or otherwise.

Father Lanzoni’s resonant “Amen” drew her back to the present. When Kyle turned aside to speak to Roshan, Mara moved away from the others on the pretense of checking the baby’s diaper when, in reality, she desperately needed a few minutes alone to come to terms with what she had done. For better or worse, she had joined her life with Kyle’s.

Cuddling her baby close in her arms, she kissed his cheek and whispered, “I’d do it again, for you.”

Chapter Twenty-nine

Logan sat on the sofa in front of the fireplace, a crystal goblet filled with Type O in one hand. So, she had married Kyle Bowden. He swore softly. It would have been so easy to wring the man’s neck, to bring Mara here, where she belonged. But he hadn’t done it because she would have hated him for it. And whether she was a vampire or not, he didn’t want her hatred.

He wished fleetlingly that he had brought her here anyway and to hell with the consequences. Enduring her hatred would have been better than the awful emptiness that burned inside him.

He sipped from the goblet as he stared at the fire, watched the flames burn hotter and brighter as his rage and his frustration grew. How long would it take him to get over her this time? How long to forget the sweetness of her lips, the pleasure of her exquisite body writhing in ecstasy beneath his, the sound of her voice crying his name as they reached for the stars?

Earlier, he had wandered into one of the bars on Hollywood Boulevard. Like most nightclubs, the interior was dark, intimate. Soft, sensual music flowed from hidden speakers, punctuated by the murmur of low-voiced conversation, the clink of glasses, an occasional burst of laughter.

Logan had perused the crowd inside, mostly young, unattached men and women hoping to get lucky. He had picked out a lovely young female, one as different from Mara as he could find. He had bought her a drink, made the requisite small talk, and accepted an invite to her place, only to find that, once he had her ready and eager, he had absolutely no desire for either her flesh or her blood. Not caring what she thought, he had vanished from her sight and walked home, hoping the exercise would help to alleviate his desire for the one woman he couldn’t have.

It hadn’t.

Muttering an oath, he hurled the empty goblet into the fireplace, watched as it shattered against the bricks, the shards of glass winking like diamonds in the fire’s light before being swallowed up in the flames.

That didn’t help, either, or change the fact that Mara was with Bowden. Maybe in bed with him. Making love to him. Letting him fondle her, kiss her.

The anger burned inside him, hotter and more corrosive than the flames crackling in the hearth. He knew why Mara had left him, knew it was her damnable pride that was keeping them apart. She had always had enough pride for ten vampires; he knew how difficult it was for her to be around him, to be around any vampire now that her own powers were gone. He could understand how she felt. He could even sympathize with her plight. But he couldn’t forgive her.

Perhaps he would go to ground for a century or two. When he rose, she would be gone, returned to the earth whence she came. Yet even as he contemplated it, he knew he wouldn’t do it, wouldn’t hide himself away so long as she walked the earth. So long as there was a chance, however unlikely, that she might need him, or that, one day she would be his.

With a sigh, he leaned back and closed his eyes. It had taken him centuries to get over her the last time she left him. How long would it take to get her out of his mind and heart this time?

Chapter Thirty

Mara’s days became a never-ending round of nursing the baby, bathing the baby, and rocking him to sleep. There were countless diapers to be changed, a husband to cook for, a house to clean, clothes to wash and fold and put away, trips to the store for food, more diapers, more meals, and endless nights spent walking the floor with a colicky infant.

There were times, when she paced the floor with her crying child, that Mara found it hard to believe that she had once been the world’s oldest and most powerful vampire, a time when anything she had desired was hers for the taking. Days when a thought carried her anywhere she wished to go. How she longed for those days when she had been free to come and go as she pleased, when she’d had no responsibilities, no one to worry about or care for but herself, no demands on her time, or her affections. And always, hard on the heels of such selfish thoughts, came an overpowering sense of guilt, because, in spite of everything, she loved Derek with her whole heart and soul, loved him as she had never thought it possible to love another living creature.

And, deep in the farthest reaches of her heart where she dared not look, she knew she had been a fool to leave Logan, the first time, and the last.

And then there was Kyle. She was used to having men lust after her, adore her, plead for her favors, but no man had ever looked at her the way Kyle did, almost as if he worshiped her. It was disconcerting, all the moreso because she didn’t deserve it. She knew now that what she had felt for him in Egypt wasn’t love. She had been flattered by his attention, fascinated by his artistic talent. He had been both sexy and vulnerable, a combination she had found vastly appealing at the time. She had been ripe to fall in love and Kyle had been there, young and handsome and eager to please her.