His Dark Embrace

“In what?”

“Mostly wenching and gambling.”

“Wenching? Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“I seem to be down to just one wench at the moment.”

“That’s right, mister!” She punched him in the arm. “And you’d better keep it that way.”

“Yes, ma’am, that’s my plan.”

“Good.” She snuggled into his arms again, and that was how Sam found them a few minutes later.

Feeling suddenly self-conscious, Skylynn sat up and put some space between herself and Kaiden. “Sam, come on in.”

He entered the room warily, as if he expected to be attacked. She noticed he had showered and shaved and changed into a shirt and a pair of jeans he had left behind when he enlisted. Keeping his gaze on Thorne, Sam sat in the chair next to the fireplace.

“Sam, this is Kaiden Thorne.” Sky watched her brother’s face, searching for some sign of recognition. “He lives across the street.”

Sam nodded, his expression blank.

“It’s good to see you again, Sam,” Thorne said.

“Yeah, thanks.” Sam muttered.

“Maybe I should leave you two alone,” Thorne suggested. “I’m sure you have a lot of catching up to do.”

Sky looked at Kaiden, her gaze searching his.

Thorne reached for her hand. Her fingers tingled at his touch, and then she heard his voice in her mind.

My being here is making him uncomfortable. It’ll be better if I go.

Sky nodded. “Thanks for coming by.” Rising, she followed Kaiden to the front door. Lowering her voice so Sam wouldn’t hear, she asked, “Will you come back later?”

“After he’s asleep,” Thorne said. Drawing her close, he kissed her, hard and quick, and then he left the house.

Skylynn stared after him a moment; then, with a sigh, she closed the door and went back into the living room.

“So, things look pretty tight with you and that Thorne guy,” Sam remarked.

“I like him a lot,” Sky admitted, resuming her seat on the sofa.

“Are you gonna marry him?”

“I don’t know. He hasn’t asked me.”

“What if he did?”

“I don’t know,” Sky said, frowning. Did vampires even get married?

“I’m not married, or anything, am I?” Sam asked.

“No. You dated several girls before you were sent to Iraq, but as far as I know, you weren’t serious about any of them.”

“Good thing,” he muttered. “None of them would want me now.”

“Sam ...”

“You don’t know what it’s like!” He stood abruptly, his eyes flashing with anger and frustration. “You tell me this is our house, that you’re my sister. It’s just words. They don’t mean anything. It’s like I’m nobody.”

“Maybe you should go back to the hospital. Maybe they could help you there.”

“Even my own sister doesn’t want me.”

“That’s not true! I just don’t know how to help you.”

“Nobody can help me! Nobody! I’m out of here!”

“Sam, wait! Where are you going?”

“Who the hell cares?” he shouted, and ran out of the house.

“Sam!” She ran after him but he was much faster than she was. She stopped at the end of the block, one hand pressed to her side as she peered down the street. Where would he go?

Telling herself he wouldn’t go far, she went back home to wait.

Fighting tears, Sam ran down the street, faster and faster, as if by running swiftly enough, he could leave the past behind and find himself again.

It was impossible, of course, like so many things in life.

After several blocks, he slowed to a walk. Hands shoved in his pockets, head down, he wandered aimlessly up one street and down another until he found himself nearing a strip mall next to the highway.

Music drew him into a small, neighborhood bar. He paused at the entrance; then, muttering, “What the hell,” he pushed the door open and went inside.

It was a small place with a western motif. A wagon wheel chandelier hung from the ceiling, there was sawdust on the floor, a brass rail along the bar, a picture of a herd of buffalo stampeding across the plains on one wall, several smaller pictures of cowboys and Indians on another. On the small stage located in one corner of the room, a young woman crooned a ballad while a handful of couples line-danced on the handkerchief-sized dance floor.

Sam found an empty stool at the bar and sat down, only then realizing he didn’t have a dime to his name.

He looked up when a bartender wearing a black vest and string tie asked, “What can I get for you?”

“I haven’t decided.”

“Let me know when you’ve made up your mind,” the bartender said, and quickly moved on.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Sam looked at the woman sitting on the bar stool beside him. “You talkin’ to me?”

“I don’t see anybody else sitting there.” She smiled, a wide friendly smile. “Are you all right? You look sort of... I don’t know, lost.”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Lost is what I am.”

“Maybe I can help you find your way.”

Sam looked at her sharply. He might not remember who he was, but he recognized a come-on when he heard it.

“I don’t think so,” he murmured, and wondered what the hell was wrong with him. She was the most remarkable creature he had ever seen. Her skin was almost translucent. Hair, like brown silk, flowed over her shoulders in luxurious waves. Her eyes, beneath thick dark lashes, were the deepest shade of green he had ever seen.

“Well, my offer of a drink still stands.”

“Thanks, but I can’t buy you one in return.”

“Did I ask?” She signaled for the bartender. “Now, what would you like?”

Chapter 29

Thorne was sitting in front of the fireplace, lost in thoughts of Skylynn, when she knocked on the door.

“Sky,” he murmured, “this is a pleasant surprise.”

“I need your help.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Sam’s run off.” She shook her head. “I’m such an idiot. We were talking. He was feeling bad about not being able to remember anything and I ... I suggested maybe he should go back to the hospital, and he got upset and ran out of the house.”

“How long ago?”

“I don’t know. Half an hour maybe. I was hoping he’d come back. I don’t think he has any money. He doesn’t remember anybody in town. Where would he go?”