Night's Touch (Children of The Night 2)

“Yes, Dad,” she said irritably, “I saw two men. I danced with two men. They bought me drinks. I came home alone. Is there anything else you want to know?”

“I don’t care for that tone, young lady.”

“I’m sorry.” She was instantly contrite, and a little confused by her growing resentment.

He sat down beside her. “I know having Di Giorgio follow you is wearisome. I know you don’t fully understand or appreciate the necessity of having him there, but it’s for my peace of mind and for…”

“My own good,” she finished, having heard it all a hundred times before.

“Cara…”

“Dad, I’m twenty-two years old! No one’s ever even looked at me sideways. What’s the big deal? What are you really afraid of? I think I have a right to know.”

“Perhaps it’s time,” he allowed. “I’ll discuss it with your mother.”

“You promise?”

“If you think it’s necessary, then you have my word.”

She smiled at him. “Thanks, Dad.”

With a nod, Roshan kissed his daughter on the forehead, then left the room, closing the door behind him.

Brenna looked up when he entered the living room. “Is everything all right?”

“She’s starting to chafe at having Di Giorgio trailing after her, and she’s starting to ask questions.” He shook his head, surprised that it had taken her this long.

“Maybe we’re worrying for nothing. It’s been over twenty years. Surely if the coven meant to take some kind of revenge, they would have done so by now.”

“Maybe.” Roshan sat beside his wife, his expression grim. “We should have moved years ago.”

“I know, but I love this house.”

He was as guilty as she. It was a big old place located on a quiet street in a respectable part of the city. Once, it had been a dark and lonely place, but Brenna had changed all that. She had brought light and color into his home just as she had brought it into his life.

He blew out a sigh that came from the very depths of his being. “We can’t hide the truth from her forever.”

“I’m afraid,” Brenna said, clutching his hand. “This isn’t like telling her she was adopted. That’s normal. But what I am…what we are…what if she refuses to accept us? What if we disgust her? I can’t bear the thought of losing her.”

“I know.” It was a fear he had lived with since the night Cara had wrapped her tiny, dimpled finger around his thumb and captured his heart and soul. He had rehearsed ways to tell her the truth over and over again in his mind, but how did you tell your only child that her mother and father were vampires, and that her mother was a witch? Telling Cara the truth would only lead to more questions, questions with ugly answers. There were parts of his past that he wanted to forget, parts of his existence best left unmentioned. He could lie to her, of course, sugarcoat the truth, leave out the gruesome details, but there was always a chance, however unlikely, that she would learn about it later, and that would be even worse.

Vince stood in the deepening shadows across the street from a house big enough and fancy enough to qualify as a mansion. He had followed Cara home, not because of any dark or depraved intentions, but simply because he was bored and she was pretty and he was curious to see where she lived.

He had been surprised to find that he wasn’t the only one who followed her from The Nocturne.

A man built like a bull had followed her out of the parking lot in a silver Lexus.

The jerk from the nightclub had followed her in a gray BMW.

Vince had brought up the rear in a hopped-up black Mustang convertible.

The first man had followed her through a wrought-iron gate and up to the house.

The jerk with the BMW was standing directly across the street from the driveway, studying the upstairs windows.

Vince stood a little farther down the road, his curiosity growing by the minute.

Keeping to the shadows, he crossed the street and vaulted over the wall that surrounded the property. Dissolving into mist, he drifted up the driveway to the house. He was about to peer into one of the windows when waves of preternatural power swept over him.

Apparently he wasn’t the only vampire around.

He floated up through the air and hovered over a second-story balcony. He sensed Cara in the room beyond. Materializing, he listened at the door. He could hear her moving around inside, perhaps getting ready for bed.

He was about to leave when Cara opened one of the French doors.

For a moment, the two of them stood there, staring at each other.

“You!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

“I followed you home,” he said, thinking quickly. “I noticed two other guys following you out of the club, and…I wanted to make sure you got home safely.”

“Two guys?” she asked, obviously not believing him. “What two guys?”

“A really big character and that jerk who stood you up.” Mr. BMW had hung back far enough to keep from being seen by either Cara or the big guy in the Lexus.

Cara crossed her arms under her breasts. “He didn’t stand me up,” she retorted. “Anyway, I don’t believe he followed me home.”

“Believe what you want,” Vince said with a shrug. “I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

She stared at him a minute, as if making up her mind whether to believe him or not, and then frowned. “How did you get through the gate?”

Damn, he thought, she had him there. The wrought-iron gate was set in the high stone wall that surrounded the house. It could only be opened electronically, and it had been locked, so he’d vaulted over the wall, just like Superman.

“Well?” She tapped her foot on the floor, waiting to catch him in a lie.

“I ducked inside behind the big guy’s car. Who is he, anyway? Not your father?”

“He’s my bodyguard, and he’ll break you in half if he finds you here.”

“Then I hope you won’t call him.”

Cara laughed in spite of herself. “You’re despicable.”

“So I’ve been told.”

He was too close. Even though they weren’t touching, she was aware of the attraction that hummed between them. It was primal, sensual, and a little scary. He felt it, too. She could see it in his eyes, feel it in the tension that hummed between them, so thick it was almost palpable.

She should go back inside and lock the door. She should have him arrested for trespassing. She should call her father. She didn’t do any of those things and she wasn’t sure why, except that she was attracted to him in a way she didn’t understand. Beyond that, she was grateful to him for bringing a bit of excitement into her otherwise unexciting life. You only had to look at him to know he was the kind of man mothers warned their daughters about, thereby making them more appealing—and he was very appealing, with his long black hair and tight-fitting jeans.