Night's Master (Children of The Night 3)

After I slipped my keys into my handbag, he offered me his arm in a rather courtly gesture and walked me to his car, something sleek and black that looked like it was going a hundred miles an hour even when it was parked at the curb.

He opened the door for me, and I sank into a rich black leather seat that automatically contoured itself to my size and shape. A deep breath carried the rich new-car scent to my nostrils.

My heartbeat kicked up a notch at the thought of being alone in the car with a Vampire. What on earth was I thinking? I had only lived in Oak Hollow a short time, and I didn't really know anyone. If I never came back, would anybody even notice?

Raphael slid behind the wheel in a sinuous movement, started the car with a touch of his hand, and pulled away from the curb. Late-model cars, like most computers, could be operated by verbal command or manually. I wasn't surprised that Raphael opted for hands-on control.

I tried to think of something witty to say to break the silence between us, but my mind had gone blank.

Raphael drove with one arm resting on the edge of the open window, his right hand draped negligently over the steering wheel. I felt a shiver of unease as he turned off Main Street and onto the highway.

“Are you new to our fair metropolis?” he asked.

“You could say that. I moved here a little over a month ago.”

“Where did you live before you came here?”

“New York.”

“Ah. Oak Hollow must be quite a change from the big city.”

“Quite,” I agreed with a smile. “So, are you still enjoying Montgomery's work?”

“Very much. I like his voice, the way he turns a phrase. And the fact that I can't always figure out who the murderer is by page three.”

“That's why I like him, too,” I said with a laugh.

I felt a shiver of unease as Raphael pulled off the highway, turned left at the first street corner, and then made a right onto a narrow dirt road. Stately trees lined both sides of the road, their graceful branches intertwining to form a kind of leafy tunnel. There were no streetlights here, no lights at all until he pulled up in front of a large, rectangular building built of shimmering black stone. The name of the place did nothing to ease my anxiety.

The Stygian Way.

Raphael parked the car in a reserved space in the front, then came around to open my door. Offering me his hand, he helped me out of the car.

A tall, slender man dressed in a black suit and tie stood at the club's entrance. Nodding at Raphael, he opened one of the carved double doors, and I had my first look at The Stygian Way.

I guess surprise sums up my reaction best. I'm not sure what my expectations had been, but the nightclub exceeded them all. Black leather booths lined one wall; small tables covered with pristine white cloths were scattered around the gray and black tiled floor. A crystal vase holding one perfect red rose adorned each table. Dozens of candles filled the room with a soft, warm glow. A long bar made of gold-veined black granite ran the length of the back wall. Glass shelves held an array of sparkling crystal goblets and snifters and stemware.

A young woman wearing a long red dress and a ruffled black apron hurried toward us. “Right this way, my lord,” she said with a slight bow.

My lord, I thought. Good grief!

Raphael inclined his head in greeting, and we followed the waitress to a booth in the far corner. I sat down and he slid in beside me, making me feel suddenly like a very small rabbit that had stumbled into the den of a very large, hungry wolf.

Raphael ordered a bottle of red wine that I knew sold for as much as sixty dollars a bottle.

I asked for a glass of 7UP with a cherry.

He lifted one dark brow. “You prefer a soft drink to fine wine?”

I shrugged. “I've never been much of a drinker.”

“Afraid I'm going to get you intoxicated and take advantage of you?” he asked candidly.

That was so close to the truth that it made me blush with embarrassment.

Raphael laughed softly. It was a remarkably sexy sound, but then, everything about him seemed sexy.

“So,” he said, leaning back, one arm resting along the top of the booth, “how do you like Oak Hollow?”

I shrugged. “It seems like a nice place.” I didn't tell him I wasn't sure I was going to stay. Even if the Werewolves and the Vampires didn't live here year-round, it was disconcerting knowing that any number of them could drop in unexpectedly from time to time. “Where do you live?”

“Here.”

“As in Oak Hollow here?”

He nodded.

“But I thought…I mean, isn't this neutral territory? I didn't think any, uh, Supernatural types lived here year-round.”

“Someone has to stay to make sure that everyone follows the rules.”

“Oh, of course. How silly of me. I should have known.” I was babbling, something I did when I was nervous or afraid. Sitting this close to Raphael Cordova, I was both. I had never been out with a man who was so handsome, or so blatantly male. Or one who was something more than a man.

“You needn't be afraid of me,” he said with a quiet smile. “I mean you no harm.”

There was no hint of fang when he smiled, but his teeth looked strong enough to pierce steel. The skin of my throat would offer no resistance. “So, how long have you been a Vampire?”

“My whole life, I guess.”

“How is that possible?”

“My father is a Vampire; my mother was mortal when I was born.”

I shook my head. Everyone knew that Vampires didn't age once they were brought across. If he had been brought across when he was an infant, he would still be an infant. “I don't understand.”

“Neither does anyone else. I was born a Vampire, but it wasn't evident until I turned thirteen.”

“I thought Vampires didn't age,” I said, confused. “I mean, you look a lot older than thirteen. Not that you look old,” I added hastily, since he didn't look a day over thirty, “but you don't look thirteen.”

“I can't explain it. I suppose it has something to do with the fact that my mother was mortal. When I reached twenty-five, I stopped aging. Like I said, I can't explain it. No one can.”

“So, how old are you?”

“Eighty-five.”

It wasn't a vast age. People were living a lot longer these days. But people who were eighty-five didn't look like they were twenty-five. Of course, he didn't look like a Vampire, either. In movies, Vampires were usually portrayed as rail thin and pale, but Raphael was anything but thin and pale. His skin had a nice olive tone, and he looked like a man in his prime, strong and healthy.