Читать книгу In the Dark - Jen Colly - Страница 7

Chapter 2

She lay on the bed before him, her small frame perfect. Soren had piled several blankets on her, helping her body keep its warmth. He gently repositioned her arms and pulled the blankets over her shoulders. This was the second time he’d carried her unconscious. She hadn’t spoken yet. He was beginning to worry.

Not wanting to leave her alone, he picked up her black purse and sat in the only chair in the room, silently praying the rickety thing wouldn’t collapse with him in it.

He looked again through the few contents of her purse. She was without a doubt the most unprepared woman he’d ever run across. Holding up her license, he compared it to her. He shifted carefully in his chair. What was it that drew him? Vampires could be any shape, size, and skin tone, but each one had jet-black hair. And so did she. Since he’d been a fledgling, he hadn’t been crazy over the color, but now that hers had dried, he wanted to bury his hands in that dark mass of hair.

What he wanted more, was to bite her again. And he could have her, do anything he wanted with her. She was his by law. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment then stood and left the room, closing the door softly behind him, closing her off from his sight. Shifted his shoulders, rolled his head from side to side, but nothing eased his restlessness. Thirst sated, he did not need more blood. Regardless, he seemed to want it. And he wanted it from her.

It must be a simple biological reaction, possibly rebelling from deprivation. Being a full grown male, he would require sustenance every six months. He’d been pushing a year. The events of tonight had made it quite obvious why feeding should be done every six months, despite personal reasons for avoidance.

If he were going to stay in that room with her, watch over her, he would have to find something else to do with his teeth.

On the counter in the modest kitchen lay a bowl of small, round apples. Thankful to have something solid to sink his teeth into, he took two.

The door opened and Gustav entered, having had no trouble with the temperamental latch. Gustav spared him only a glance before beginning the ritual of replacing his weapons in their proper places. He stuffed his gun into the silverware drawer, along with several small throwing knives that Soren was certain he also used for meals.

“Eating me out of house and home again?” Gustav asked, as he mounted his short sword on the wall behind the couch. A deadly decoration.

“I wouldn’t be hungry if you hadn’t taken so long,” he said.

“Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve had to deal with these bastards? I’m lucky Geoff still has his van. I’d like to see you dispose of two bodies in under an hour.” Gustav snorted as he removed his jacket, then walked past him, headed for his room.

Three solid seconds later, Gustav marched from his bedroom.

“Oh, come on. You put her in my bed?” he whispered harshly.

“Back off.”

Gustav let out an irritated sigh. “What happened tonight?”

“I don’t know.” Soren looked at the door she was hidden behind. “I just wasn’t thinking.”

Gustav crossed his arms, unmoving. “You’re always thinking. You’ve got it all planned out.”

“Not tonight,” he said, avoiding his friend’s steady stare.

“So when you said she’s mine up there, you were being literal.” Gustav still studied his face, his reactions.

“Yes. She knows what I am, what I took from her. I’m sure of it.” He could not let a human wander the world with knowledge of vampires. To do so meant the death of thousands of his kind. Their laws limited him to two simple choices. Keep her or kill her.

Gustav shrugged. “I could kill her if you want. Then it’s not a problem anymore.”

Soren glared at him.

Gustav’s jaw dropped. “You’re really keeping that bit of human.”

“I can’t explain it. It’s been so long since I’ve fed, and I want more,” he said, ignoring his friend’s shocked expression and going to the door. “I need to think. Watch her.”

He had enough to deal with right now, and explaining his thoughts and feelings to Gustav was not on his list.

“She better not wake up,” Gustav grumbled.

Holding the door open, he paused. “Warn your lord about the demons.”

“He knows,” Gustav said, and Soren shut the door behind him.

The sharpness of the door closing sounded somehow final. Halfway up the stairs he stopped, fighting the urge to return. He didn’t want to leave the human.

Faith. He didn’t want to leave Faith. The more he thought of her, the more anxious he became. What if she woke? She didn’t know Gustav, and might be frightened. If she became hysterical, his friend would probably shut her in the bathroom. It sounded completely preposterous, except for the fact that Gustav became irritable when something new was thrown his way, and tended to act on impulse.

He headed back down the stairs. She’d already faced two demons and his less than admirable attentions. One of Gustav’s tirades would scar her for life. He opened the bedroom door and Gustav looked up at him, a smile curving beneath his goatee.

“Back so soon?” Gustav said in mock innocence.

“Get out.”

“I see why you want to keep her, and why you crave her. She’s stunning.” His rich, mirthful laughter rang through the room.

Soren pulled the card key to Faith’s hotel room from her wallet and shoved it into his friend’s hand. “Go find her things.”

“With pleasure,” Gustav said with a cocky smile, and smacked the small wooden arms of the chair as he practically leaped out of it. “I can’t really blame you—”

“Out,” he snapped.

* * * *

The springs in the mattress creaked, bringing her slowly around. After prying her eyelids open one at a time, Faith looked around the room. She lay in bed, her head throbbed, and the dim light was bright enough to compound her headache with stinging darts of pain. She couldn’t see much, but from what she gathered, the only thing to see was an odd wooden chair with some kind of canvas holding it together.

Again, the springs in the mattress creaked, but this time she’d been awake enough to realize she hadn’t moved. Someone sat on the edge of the bed.

She tried to sit slowly, not liking the vulnerability of lying down in a strange place.

“You should lie back down,” a man said.

She sat anyway, and he covered her shoulder with a large hand, pressing her to the mattress.

“Listen, buddy, I want to sit up. So leave me alone and let me figure it out, or help me up,” she said, struggling against his hold.

The hand on her shoulder changed directions, and he gently pulled her to a sitting position. He might have moved slowly, but it felt like she’d been pitched forward. She had to squeeze her eyes shut to stop the room from spinning. Palms flat on the mattress, she braced herself, simply breathing.

“You passed out again. How are you feeling?” he asked.

When she looked up at the man, she recognized him instantly. He’d saved her life, and carried her down here after she’d passed out in the alley. She’d never passed out before. Yes, being robbed had been scary, but after he’d shown up, she didn’t fear for her safety. Except when…he’d bitten her. “You…you’re,” she said, her voice shaking even as she kicked the blankets at him and backed against the wall. “Get away from me.”

That sudden movement had been a very bad idea. She leaned back against the wall for balance and clutched her head with both hands.

“You hit your head pretty hard. Do you remember what happened to you?”

“I don’t have amnesia.” She snapped her mouth shut, holding back a whimper, then whispered, “A mild concussion, maybe.”

The volume of her words rattling around inside her head hurt badly. She wanted very much to lie down again and sleep for a whole day, but messing with her equilibrium to get her head to the pillow was something she dreaded at the moment. Stillness seemed to work the best right now. She opened her eyes enough to see him through her eyelashes. Satisfied that he hadn’t made a move toward her, she asked quietly, “Why am I here?”

“Because it’s safe here.”

“Where is here?” She gave it another go.

“A friend’s home.”

“Wow, are you cryptic.” She wasn’t getting any water out of this rock, and gave up.

“Habit,” he said, shrugging one shoulder as if apologizing.

“Well, it’s a bad one.” With her fingers, she searched out the sore spot on the back of her head. If there had been any doubt in her mind, the bump under her fingertips revealed that she had definitely hit her head. “Why didn’t you leave me in the alley?”

“Do you remember what happened?” His voice had changed with this question, and she swore she heard a touch of hope in his words.

“Boy, do I. You bit me. Bit me!” She’d gradually gotten louder, and had to catch herself. “You should have left me.”

“If you didn’t remember, I could have. But you know what I am,” he said, lowering his head. “Even if I had wanted to let you go, I couldn’t. There is no other choice. Now you will stay with me.”

Her mouth hung open in surprise for a moment before she snapped it shut. “I’m not staying with you.”

He leaned closer, gaze narrowing on her. “Leaving you to those two monsters would have been the only way to avoid me. And if I had, death and dismemberment would’ve been the very least of your worries. I say again, I have no choice.”

A chill shimmied up her spine, made her shiver. The problem was, she believed him.

As frightening as those men had been, the man sitting before her was the one who had bitten her on the neck. It had stung, searing, before her vision dimmed.

“Have I really been kidnapped by Dracula?” she whispered, watching his lips, afraid of what hid behind them.

He raised an eyebrow, then cleared his throat. “Dracula is dead, and was not one of our kind. My name is Soren. And I am vampire, if that’s what you’re asking.”

She stared at him now, unable, or maybe unwilling, to stop. This man certainly wasn’t the pasty, caped creature she automatically associated with vampires, nor did he look eternally youthful. And she supposed his aged look threw her the most. His skin had a natural light olive tone, and when coupled with the grooves across his forehead and the smile lines bracketing his lips, he looked like a worn thirty-five-year-old man. How could a regular man be a vampire?

The bedroom door swung open. A short man stood in the doorway, nearly hidden by her large blue suitcase. He tossed it on the floor.

Soren sighed. “This is Gustav.”

“I wish you would have let me kill her. This thing weighs a ton,” Gustav said, then his eyes fixed on her and narrowed. He turned to Soren. “You gave her my clothes? This isn’t getting any better. Get her dressed and out of here.”

“We’re going,” Soren assured him, his mouth twitching as if he fought a smile.

“I hate people,” Gustav grumbled, then caught sight of the splintered door. “Hey, what the hell happened to my bathroom door?”

She certainly wasn’t going to take the fall for that one. As Gustav looked between them angrily, she discretely pointed to Soren.

“Forget it, I don’t want to know.” Gustav left, throwing his hands in the air.

Soren lifted her suitcase and set it inside the bathroom. “I thought you might want your things. We’ll be leaving soon, so bathe and change your clothes.” Despite her pounding head, she was up and across the room in an instant. It didn’t seem like a smart thing to try a vampire’s patience.

* * * *

Soren watched as she tried several times to get the door to latch right. She barely got the thing to close even as she used her weight to pull it into place. After she’d passed out, he’d nearly torn the door off its hinges the instant he’d heard the solid thump of her body against the wall. Yet again, he was struck by her human weakness.

He’d caught her in time to keep her head from smacking the floor. Funny, how a bump on the head and overexertion caused a human to pass out.

He would have to be drunk or nearly dead to lose consciousness. Even the women of his species were amazingly resilient. Faith was vulnerable, and he needed to shelter her. Which he shouldn’t want to do. Shouldn’t even think it. He had other, more important things to attend to.

Demons ran free in Paris.

Their red-eyed faces filled his mind, but an image of Faith took over, soaking wet and terrified of them. He stood and paced the room, rubbing the back of his neck as he moved, anger growing.

He had to stop remembering her fear, and that the demons had touched her. It made him furious, volatile. Gustav’s casual request to kill her had nearly sent him over the edge.

And when he took her home? It had been so long since a human had been brought into their world. His whole life was being rearranged in an evening, because of one girl.

* * * *

Faith knelt on the floor, popped the metal latches and lifted the lid of her suitcase. She might be able to get out of this. Soren was a vampire. He had several obvious weaknesses. She was not the kind of woman to tote around garlic, holy water, and wooden stakes. Frankly, that kind of woman should be committed. That left sunlight and crosses. She had no idea what time it was, but she might be able to use the sun to her advantage.

Dear Lord, she hoped she’d brought her tiny diamond cross necklace. She thought somehow she hadn’t, but dug through the powder blue satin pockets anyway. Her fingers touched the small jewelry box, and she pulled it free and flipped the lid off. Earrings. Thick gold hoops, and thin silver hoops. No necklaces. Why did she have to be practical?

Letting out a heavy sigh, she sat on the floor rather ungracefully. Elbows on her bent knees, she stared down at her suitcase, defeated.

The fake blue leather was familiar, the plastic handle cracked and worn. She’d packed light, the trip kindling the hope of many things…to find some unique jewelry, a sexy pair of casual shoes, and maybe a place to stay. It would be nice to live in France. Or anywhere else. Home hadn’t felt like home in…well, she wasn’t sure if she could technically classify it as being home in the first place. Her two-bedroom house belonged to her father. He’d bought it for her birthday last year.

A week later, her mother had bought furniture for her living room. And so it had continued. Nearly fifteen years after their divorce, they continued their fight with each other through her. She’d begun to hate every item dropped on her welcome mat, yet another gift from her mother.

This beautiful blue suitcase in her closet had started to look appealing, almost like an oasis. She’d kept shutting the closet door, pretending it wasn’t there. After all, an oasis was an illusion, a mirage.

Then one day she’d come home to find that her mother’s gardeners had planted spiral topiaries and boxy hedges over her favorite white peonies. She hated spirals and hedges. If her mother had bothered to take the time to carry on a full conversation with her in the last five years, she might have known that. Faith was through with letting others plan her life. She’d wanted out, and had finally understood if she didn’t try to find that oasis, she’d never know if it were real.

So here she sat on the floor of a bathroom with nothing to lose. This wasn’t exactly the oasis she’d envisioned, but at least there was water in the form of one very good-looking vampire. It could be, and almost had been, much worse.

* * * *

Soren sat in the rickety chair, tipped his head back and took a deep breath. Everything here was in sad shape, especially that sorry bed he’d barely remembered from his last visit. He’d always wished he could change things for Gustav, though Gustav wouldn’t want anything to change at all.

His friend was a rarity. What his people called a Stalker. He was vampire, but dedicated to the death of demons and to the protection of vampires and humans. Stalkers walked the night above, struggling to find shelter from daylight, living as humans.

Soren had chosen a different way of life. He was a Guardian, his sole duty to protect his lord, and the people of his lord’s city. A peacekeeper. He guarded his people from within the city. They defended their race in their own way, though he would be the only one ever recognized for his efforts, rewarded with a plush home and the respect of his people.

Gustav would never have any of that. Vampires held no respect for Stalkers because of their love for killing demons. True, the only good demon was a dead one, but murder was still murder. And had always been punishable by immediate execution.

Stalkers were criminals running free in the world. At least, most vampires held that opinion. Gustav was a good man, a good friend, and Soren really didn’t care if he butchered every last demon single-handedly.

Releasing a breath of tiredness, Soren let his thoughts of politics and friendship fade away. The soft sound of water splashing and a sweet flowery scent wafting from the bathroom started to relax him.

The water drained, and the hum of her hairdryer created a pleasant background noise. It conjured memories of her damp hair in his hands. It had felt like satin slipping over his fingers.

It had been so very long since he had lived with anyone, let alone a woman. Although he kept a busy schedule, his social skills were somewhat lacking. Always had been. He likely was more apprehensive about this situation than she was, and going home with a vampire was as strange as it got, for her.

The door rattled once, twice, before bursting open. Faith nearly tripped on her way out, but righted herself and tried to gently prop the door against the wall.

Her black boots peeked from beneath her snug blue jeans, and anything he’d planned to say fizzled. Her shirt softly hugged her hips, rising to follow the curve of her waist. No longer rain soaked and disheveled, her hair fanned over her shoulders. A turtleneck covered her lovely neck to her chin. Laughter burst from him.

“What’s so funny?” Faith demanded.

“If I wanted you, blood, body and soul, that bit of cloth would not hinder me,” he said with a smile.

Her hand rose halfway to her throat, but she caught herself, dropping her arms. Fists clenched, she stood her ground. “I’m still wearing it.”

“Suit yourself.” He still smiled at the notion of using a piece of fabric for protection.

She sent him a sideways glance as she went to the bed and placed the clothes she had been wearing in a neatly folded pile. As she leaned forward, her hair slid across her back and draped over her shoulder. Long and brushed smooth, it fell just below her shoulder blades in a soft vee. No choppy layers, no wispy pieces falling over her eyes.

Perfect. Lovely. He imagined what it would be like to sweep back her soft, sweet smelling hair, to bury his face in it as he fed.

He rose, and in two steps stood behind her, lifting her hair to his face, drowning in the scent of flowers. She gasped, but he clenched his fist tighter, not willing to let her go.