Читать книгу Enchant the Night - Amanda Ashley - Страница 15

Chapter 7

Callie lay awake long after she’d gone to bed, starting at every noise, every creak, as she replayed her conversation with Quill. He was six hundred years old. He could impregnate a human female. There were two kinds of vampires—his kind and the bloodthirsty ones who killed those they fed on. In spite of the aura of power that clung to him, he didn’t seem menacing—at least not to her. She wasn’t sure why he wanted to stay in her house when he had a lair of his own. Nor did she understand why she wasn’t more afraid of him, of what he was. So, he didn’t kill his prey. That didn’t mean he wasn’t capable of violence. She had seen ample proof of that in Hunter Park.

If not a child, what did he really want from her? And how was she to know if any of what he’d said was even true? For all she knew, maybe there was only one kind of vampire and he had invented the story of “his” kind in hopes of gaining her trust.

She tossed and turned all that night, and when sleep finally claimed her, she dreamed she was being chased by vampires—hideous bat-like creatures with inch-long fangs and hell-red eyes who pursued her through a dark, winding tunnel that had no end.

* * *

In the morning, Callie’s first thought was for Quill. She hadn’t heard him come in last night. Had he decided to return to his lair, wherever that might be? But when she tiptoed down the hall and peeked into the guest room, he was there.

Oh, Lordy, was he there! She gasped when she saw him. He was naked to the waist, the sheet covering his long legs. She couldn’t help staring at him, her gaze moving over the width of his shoulders, traveling down his broad chest to a firm belly ridged with muscle. It wasn’t so much the beauty of his physique that had her staring as the numerous thin white scars that crisscrossed his arms, chest, and belly. Were they all souvenirs of the night he had been attacked? If so, how had he ever survived?

Her gaze moved to his face. His brow was unlined, his cheekbones high and prominent, his nose a straight slash, his lips . . . she knew their contours, their taste. Even at rest, she could feel the aura of power that surrounded him.

Hoping to escape unnoticed, she took a step back, but it was too late. His gaze trapped hers, bringing a flush of heat to her cheeks and a flutter of excitement in the pit of her stomach.

He didn’t say anything, and neither did she. Silence stretched between them, so thick it was almost palpable.

Heart pounding so fast she thought she might faint, Callie moved into the room. One step. Two. And then she hesitated, waiting for some sign from Quill.

Sitting up, he swung his legs over the edge of the mattress. She was relieved to see that he had slept in his jeans.

With his gaze still on hers, he held out his arms.

It was all the invitation she needed. He gathered her close, his hand stroking her back while he rained feather-light kisses on her brow, her cheeks, the tip of her nose, before claiming her lips with his.

She stood nestled between his thighs, one hand resting over his heart, the other delving into the hair at his nape as he kissed her again and yet again. Time ceased to exist as he fell back on the mattress, drawing her down on top of him, her legs straddling his.

Holding her close, he rolled over and tucked her beneath him. She gasped as she felt the evidence of his desire, felt a rush of apprehension when she dared look at him. His gaze burned into hers, so hot she was surprised it didn’t set her hair on fire. She was acutely aware of the weight of his body pressing down on hers. His musky scent enveloped her, arousing her still more.

She bit down on her lower lip, afraid to move. Afraid to breathe for fear he might read it as an invitation. Vampire.

He went suddenly still.

She didn’t know if that was a good sign or not. She wondered again why she wasn’t more afraid of him, why she was so drawn to him. Sometimes she felt as if she had been waiting for this man, this moment, her whole life.

“I should have warned you,” he said, his voice gruff. “My hunger and my desire are closely entwined.” His fingertips settled on the pulse throbbing rapidly in the hollow of her throat.

Now he tells me, she thought—and wondered which he wanted more, her virtue or her blood.

“I’ll leave that up to you.”

She swallowed hard. Then, moving ever so slowly, she offered him her arm.

“Not this time,” he growled.

Before she could decide what he meant, he lowered his head to her neck. Fear shot through her, followed by a wave of intense sensual pleasure. She closed her eyes, her fingers tangling in his hair to hold him close.

He was drinking from her. It was far more sensual than having him drink from her wrist. She was floating, drifting on a crimson sea, weightless as a feather.

When she came back to earth, he was gone.

Callie sat up slowly, a little confused as to what had just happened between them. She had never expected things to get so hot and heavy, or to escalate so fast.

She lifted a hand that was none too steady to her throat. He had never taken so much before. Had she been in danger? She remembered Quill saying his kind didn’t kill their prey. But there was a first time for everything, and she couldn’t help feeling that she was lucky to be alive.

* * *

Quill stormed through the city’s back streets, striking anything that got in his way—trees, block walls, trash cans, stop signs.

He could have killed her. The knowledge—the fear—burned through him like holy water against preternatural flesh. He had been so close to taking it all, to sheathing himself in her sweet flesh as he buried his fangs in her throat.

In his six hundred years, he had never felt such an overwhelming desire for any other woman. Why Callie? And why did her blood taste so damnably familiar?

Witch blood, he thought. It reminded him of witch blood.

Frowning, he slowed to a walk, hands shoved into his pockets.

In his long existence, he had only taken blood from one witch, and that had been over a hundred years ago. She had been a pretty young woman. He thought her to be in her mid-twenties. Later, he had learned that she was older. Much older. The sexual attraction between them had been instantaneous. They had made love that very night. He had hoped for a long-term affair but after that first encounter, she had refused to bed him again. When he’d asked why, all she’d said was that it wasn’t meant to be. They had continued to spend time together for several months before he’d moved on. Funny that he remembered her so clearly when he barely remembered any of the other women he’d known.

Muttering an oath, he came to an abrupt halt. He even remembered her name. Eva something. No, not Eva. Ava. Ava, who’d had the same honey-gold hair as Callie, the same incredibly deep blue eyes.

* * *

Callie spent the morning shopping online for the best price on a camera she had seen in a magazine. After making her choice, she added a case and a couple of new lenses. When that was done, she went out to lunch. And all the while, she found herself wondering about Quill. Where was he? He tended to sleep during the day, she mused, then remembered he kept a lair somewhere. No doubt he had gone there.

She should be relieved he was out of the house, but she couldn’t help wondering if she would ever see him again.

Later, needing to get her mind off Quill, she called Vivian and asked if she was in the mood to see a movie. They made plans to meet at the theater.

It felt good to get out of the house, to spend time with her best friend, and yet Quill was there, in the back of her mind, all the while.

When Callie climbed into bed later that night, she blinked back her tears, refusing to acknowledge that she missed him.

* * *

The next morning, Callie told herself she was relieved that the bed in the guest room was empty. Muttering, “Good riddance,” she closed the door with an air of finality. She was well rid of him, she thought. Who needed a vampire in their house? Sure, he was sexy as hell and his kisses were more intoxicating than the finest wine, but being with him was also dangerous to her health. In the bright light of a new day, what had almost happened the day before seemed even more frightening. She had the unshakeable feeling that, had Quill possessed less self-control, he would have drained her dry. He might have regretted it when it was done, but that wouldn’t have made much difference, at least not to her. She would have been just as dead.

She immersed herself in housework—stripping the sheets from the bed in the guest room as well as her own, dusting, vacuuming. When that was done, she cleaned out a cupboard and then the linen closet, refusing to admit how empty the house seemed without him, telling herself again and again that she was glad he was gone.

By sundown, her house was spotless, she had caught up on a week’s worth of laundry, there were clean sheets on the beds, the windows sparkled.

She was in the kitchen, looking over her choices for dinner, when her phone rang.

Hoping it was Vivian wanting to go out for the night, she answered on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Callie.”

His whiskey-smooth voice went through her like liquid fire. Feeling suddenly weak, she sank down on one of the kitchen chairs, her mouth dry, her heart pounding.

“Callie? Are you there?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m sorry for yesterday. I almost lost control, but you can hardly blame me. You’re a beautiful, desirable woman.”

Callie frowned. “Are you blaming me for what almost happened?”

“You can’t deny the attraction between us. It’s not all on my side.”

That was true. She hadn’t made much of an effort to rebuff his advances.

“I was hoping I could take you out to dinner and apologize in person.”

After what had happened the day before, she had no intention of ever seeing him again. Sexy or not, she had to remember that he was a vampire. Just being with him was dangerous in more ways than one. She opened her mouth, intending to give him a polite “No, thank you,” and hang up. Instead, she heard herself saying, “I’d like that.”

“What time shall I pick you up?”

“Eight?”

“See you then.”

Callie stared at the phone. What on earth had possessed her to accept?

* * *

Two hours later, Callie stood in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom. She had showered, washed and blow-dried her hair, and then tried on every dress in her closet, finally settling on a turquoise-blue sheath with a slit up the side and a pair of beige heels. She had just applied her favorite lipstick when the doorbell rang.

Taking a deep breath, she counted to ten, hoping she wouldn’t live to regret her decision to see him again.

* * *

Quill whistled softly when Callie opened the door. The dress she wore outlined every delectable curve. “You look fantastic. Are you ready?”

“Just let me grab a jacket and my purse.”

She didn’t invite him in. He took the hint and waited outside.

“Where would you like to go?” he asked when she stepped out on the porch and closed the door behind her.

“Have you ever been to Tony’s?” she asked, and then blushed, remembering who she was talking to.

“No.” He grinned at her discomfort. “But I like Italian food. Shall we?”

Callie followed him down the stairs to the curb where his car—a silver Jaguar—waited. He opened the door for her, waited until she was settled before closing it. She loved her VW, but this . . . she ran her hands over the leather. It was buttery soft.

Sliding behind the wheel, he smiled at her before starting the car.

Callie searched her mind for something to say. “I’ve never ridden in a Jaguar before.”

“It’s a nice car.”

Nice! The engine purred like a contented cat and ran so smoothly, she didn’t even feel the bumps in the road.

At the restaurant, he pulled up in front of the valet parking sign. The valet opened her door for her. Then Quill was there, reaching for her hand. A shiver of awareness slid down her spine as his fingers closed over hers.

As they entered the restaurant, she didn’t miss the fact that every female in the place turned to look at Quill with wide-eyed admiration. The waitress seated them immediately, ignoring several other couples who were ahead of them. As she handed Callie a menu, the woman leaned close to her ear, whispering, “Honey, you are one lucky lady,” before sending a radiant smile in Quill’s direction.

Callie looked at him, one brow raised in astonishment. “Does that happen often?”

He shrugged.

“What did you do to her?”

“Nothing.”

“Is she a friend of yours? Is that why she let us go ahead of all those other people?”

“I never saw her before tonight.”

Callie glanced at the tables closest to theirs. Every woman, regardless of age, was looking at Quill, some surreptitiously, others with blatant interest. “So, do females just naturally fall all over themselves around you?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “What can I say?”

Eyes narrowed, she stared at him. Was she like those other women? There was no denying that even knowing what he was, she’d been attracted to Quill almost from the beginning.

Before she could ask any more questions, the waitress returned. She placed a large basket of breadsticks on the table, then took their orders. Callie decided on her usual, spaghetti and meatballs. Quill opted for lasagna and asked for a bottle of red wine.

With a wink and a smile, the waitress left to turn in their order.

“You look upset,” Quill remarked. “Is something wrong?”

“Are you using whatever it is that’s attracting the attention of all these other women on me?”

“What?”

“You know what I mean,” she hissed. “You’re a . . . you know. Are you using some kind of supernatural aphrodisiac to make me care for you?”

Quill scrubbed a hand over his jaw, amazed that she’d even thought such a thing. Not that he didn’t have the power to control human thoughts. When he fed, he always erased the memory from his prey’s mind. He had wiped the incident from Callie’s memory, too, for all the good it had done. He still didn’t understand why it hadn’t worked. But he’d never tried to use his preternatural power to make a woman care for him.

“Is that what’s bothering you? You think I’ve used some kind of love spell on you?” He shook his head. “Believe me, Callie, if you have any feelings for me, they’re all your own.”

She reached for a breadstick, her brow furrowed thoughtfully. Maybe he wasn’t doing anything. He was, after all, a remarkably handsome man. If she thought so, it seemed only natural that other women would think so, too. Glancing at some of the men the other women were with, Callie couldn’t blame them for staring at Quill. He was easily the best-looking guy in the place.

“Callie?”

She looked up at him, feeling foolish.

“Do you believe me?”

“I guess so.”

They made small talk over dinner. It wasn’t until they were in the car again that Quill brought up the subject that had been nagging at him. “Tell me about your family.”

Startled, Callie stared at him. “My family? Why?”

“I’m just curious about you,” he said with a negligent shrug. “About your past.”

“Oh. Well . . . my parents died when I was six and I went to live with my Grandma Ava. She’s really the only family I had.”

“What about your other grandparents? Didn’t you ever see them?”

“No.” She shifted uncomfortably, remembering how hurt she’d been when they cut her out of their life. “My Grandpa Henry thought I was a changeling because I’m left-handed. He was always looking at me strangely, as if he was waiting for me to put a curse on him or turn into some kind of . . . I don’t know what. It got to be an obsession with him. After my parents died, he refused to have anything to do with me and wouldn’t let Grandma Martha visit me, either. She sent me money in birthday cards and Christmas cards for a few years, and then they stopped.” Callie blinked rapidly to stay her tears. “I guess she passed away.”

“But you were close to your other grandparents.”

Callie smiled. “Grandma Ava’s husband passed away before I was born. But I loved living with her. She was so good to me, although I have to say she was a little eccentric. When I was a little girl, I was sure she was a witch.”

Ava. Quill frowned. Was it a coincidence that her grandmother’s name was the same as that of the witch he had known so long ago? He shot her a quick glance. “What made you think that?”

“Oh, she and her friends used to dance in the backyard on nights when the moon was full. Sometimes I watched them from my window and I could hear them chanting, though I couldn’t understand the words. She used to sing and make weird signs over me at night when I went to bed. She said it would protect me, but she didn’t say from what. I asked her a couple of times, but all she said was that someday I’d understand.” Stifling a grin, Callie glanced at Quill. “Maybe she was protecting me from vampires.”

“Maybe she was.” There was no humor in his tone. Or his expression.

Callie stared at him. She had spoken the words in jest, but suddenly they didn’t seem so funny.

There was an abrupt shift in the atmosphere when Quill said, “I think she was a witch.”

An icy shiver skated down Callie’s spine. “Why would you say that?”

“You said she cast a spell of protection on you.”

“Yes.”

“It worked.”

“What do you mean?”

“That first night when I bit you, I wiped the memory from your mind. And still you remembered. There’s no one living, except for my own kind and the Knights of the Dark Wood, who know of my existence. I had intended to silence you. Permanently.”

Callie’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You were going to . . . to kill me.”

He didn’t deny it. “But I couldn’t. Now I know why. Whatever protective spell your grandmother cast on you all those years ago very likely saved your life.”

She shook her head. “It isn’t possible. None of this is possible.”

“Whether you believe it or not, I know witches exist. I’ve met a few.” And he was more certain now than ever that Callie’s grandmother was the witch he had known decades ago. They looked the same. They tasted the same.

“Why didn’t she tell me? Maybe not when I was little for fear I might tell someone else. But why she didn’t she tell me later, when I was old enough to understand?”

Quill shook his head as he pulled up in front of her house. “I have no idea.”

Callie stared at him. If vampires were real, then why not witches? It was all too much to take in. Vampires. Witches. Knights of the Dark Wood. What next? Werewolves? Zombies? Little green men from Mars?

“I’ve got to go,” Callie said, anxious to be alone with her thoughts.

“We aren’t finished, you and I,” he said as she opened the car door.

Heart pounding, she grabbed her handbag, stepped out of the Jaguar, and ran up the porch steps. Key in hand, she tried to unlock the door, but she was shaking so badly, she couldn’t fit the key into the lock.

And then Quill was standing behind her, taking the key from her hand.

She felt his breath against her cheek as he leaned past her to open the door, the brush of his fingers against hers as he handed her the key. When she stepped over the threshold, he closed the door behind her.

She stood there a moment, his last words whispering in the back of her mind.

We aren’t finished, you and I.

Suddenly weak in the knees, Callie sank down on the sofa, wondering if those last words had been a threat or a promise.

* * *

Brow furrowed, Quill left his car parked in front of Callie’s house and strolled down the street. He could understand her confusion and dismay as she tried to come to terms with the fact that her grandmother had been a witch. He had met Ava over a hundred years ago. He had known when he drank from her that she was a witch. It had added a certain spice to their friendship. He had met the members of her coven, as well. Betty, Hilda, and Maxine. Being a vampire had its own kind of magic and the five of them had spent many an evening trying to out-magic each other, but Ava had clearly out-classed all of them.

What he hadn’t realized until now was just how powerful Ava had been. She had apparently known that her granddaughter would meet one of his kind. To that end, she had cast a protection spell on Callie, he mused, perhaps even before Callie had been born.

Ava had not only been a powerful witch, but she had possessed the Sight. Quill frowned. When he had made love to Ava all those years ago, had she somehow foreseen that one day in the future, Callie would meet him? If so, it would explain why Ava had refused to bed him again after that first time.

Either way, he had met Callie—and Ava’s incantation had done its job and protected her vulnerable granddaughter from the big, bad vampire.

Or had it? Sure, he had been certain the only way to ensure that Callie kept his secret was to take her life, but once he had talked to her, found out a little about her, all he’d wanted to do was get to know her better. She was enchanting, vibrant, and beautiful. And she had a kind and generous heart. What man wouldn’t want her?

For the first time since he’d met Ava, he had met a woman who intrigued him, one who had captured his heart and soul. One who knew him for what he was and hadn’t run screaming from his presence.

He wasn’t about to let her go without a fight.