His Dark Embrace

“My old boyfriend was here a little while ago,” she replied, and wondered again why seeing Harry made her feel guilty. After all, she was free to see anyone she liked.

“Is that right?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Did you kiss and make up?”

“Of course not. What’s this all about?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Exasperated, she planted her fists on her hips and glared up at him. “Nothing? You practically break down my door over nothing?” She poked him in the chest with her forefinger. “I. Don’t. Think. So.”

“All right, it’s like this. You remember that monk I told you about? I think he’s here, in town.”

She stared up at him, her eyes wide, and then she stepped out onto the porch and glanced up and down the street. “Are you talking about the man who broke into the lab? Did you see him?”

“Not exactly, but I know he was here, and not long ago.”

“If you didn’t see him ... ?”

“He was here.” Girard Desmarais’ scent wasn’t something Thorne was likely to forget or mistake for anyone else’s.

“But ... why would he come here again? He’s got the formula.”

“I don’t know,” Thorne remarked thoughtfully. But he had a pretty good idea. Maybe he wasn’t the only one searching for that elusive missing ingredient. Maybe Desmarais needed it, too. But why? What possible use could a mortal have for McNamara’s potion?

And where was Desmarais now?

Girard cursed softly as he closed and locked the door to his hotel room. A short walk from the elevator to his room had him panting as if he had just run a marathon. It was hell to get old.

Shivering, he pulled a blanket from the bed and wrapped it around his shoulders, then slumped in the chair by the window. He was always cold now, his bones aching. Since using the last of the potion, he seemed to be aging faster than normal. True, he wasn’t a young man anymore. Now in his seventies, he was well past the age when most men retired and settled down, but these last few days he had felt far older than his years. As for retiring, that was something he couldn’t do until he had put a stake through Kaiden Thorne’s black heart and taken his head.

Thorne. The vampire was over four hundred years old and still as strong as an ox.

Girard bolted upright. Of course! Why hadn’t he thought of it before? Mortals grew weaker as they aged but not vampires. They grew stronger with every passing year.

Girard snorted in disgust. Why was he wasting time worrying about McNamara’s potion? Even if he found the missing ingredient and managed to recreate the potion, it wouldn’t keep him alive forever. Sure, it might extend his life and restore his vigor for another ten or twenty years, but he was bound to die eventually. But vampires ... ah, vampires didn’t grow old and weak. And if they were careful, they never died.

What if he became a vampire?

Girard shook his head, stunned by the direction his thoughts were taking. Vampires were loathsome creatures, yet he couldn’t help envying them their vigor and longevity. What he was thinking was tantamount to treason. He was a slayer, descended from a long line of hunters. And yet the hunters grew old and died while the vampires remained.

Of course, the answer was so clear, he was amazed he hadn’t thought of it sooner. If he became one of the Undead, he could hunt vampires forever.

He laughed out loud as inspiration washed over him.

He didn’t need the damn formula.

He needed a vampire.

Chapter 12

Sky pulled a chair up to the front room window, then sat down, her elbows braced on the sill, and watched Kaiden mow the lawn. Maybe she was crazy, but she loved watching him. There had been a time, years ago, when he had always mowed his yard at night. She had never figured out why, and then, for no reason she could discern, he stopped cutting the grass in the dark and did it during the day, like everyone else. And now he was mowing the lawn in the dark again. Why?

Earlier, she had been upset when Thorne told her the man in the gray cloak—Desmarais—had been nearby. Of course, enigmatic creature that he was, Thorne hadn’t explained how he had come by that information. He had, however, assured her that the monk was gone and that she had nothing to worry about. As much as she wanted to believe him, it hadn’t kept her from making sure all the doors and windows were locked and all the curtains fully drawn save for the one she was now peeking through.

It was soothing, somehow, sitting there watching Kaiden cut the grass. Bathed in silver moonlight, he looked like some kind of otherworldly creature and she imagined that he was a humanoid version of E.T., a tall, dark, sexy alien being from some distant planet who had inadvertently been left behind and had had to learn to adapt to life on Earth.

She laughed softly, amused by the whimsical turn of her thoughts. Otherworldly, indeed. And yet, there was something inherently mysterious about Kaiden that didn’t make her fantastical thoughts seem all that far-fetched.

Feeling the need to look into his eyes, to hear her name on his lips, she decided he needed a cup of coffee to warm him up. It would give her the perfect excuse to go over there. After all, it was cold outside.

Hurrying into the kitchen, she quickly poured him a cup of hot coffee, added milk and a heaping teaspoon of sugar, and carried it across the street.

He looked up, surprised, when she approached him. “Sky! What are you doing here?”

“It’s cold. You’re working hard.” She shrugged as she offered him the cup. “I thought you could use this.”

“Thanks.” Thorne kept his features carefully impassive. Only days ago, he had loved the strong smell of freshly brewed coffee. Now, it was all he could do not to grimace with distaste. Drinking it was out of the question. “I think I’ll finish the yard first, if you don’t mind.”

“No, of course not.” She smiled up at him. “Maybe I’ll drink this cup and bring you a fresh one later.”

“Good idea.” He returned the mug, wondering how he could refuse the next cup without hurting her feelings.

“Mind if I stay and watch?”

“Not at all,” he said with a teasing grin, “but I’d have to charge admission.” He had sensed her watching him before he had looked across the street and glimpsed her in the window. “You might be more comfortable watching from the window. Like you said, it’s cold out here.” For her, anyway. The cold no longer bothered him.

Sky felt a rush of heat climb up her neck to her cheeks. How had he known? She had done her best to stay out of sight.