Books by Maggie Shayne (156 page)

“My baby!” the woman screamed, over and over again. “Please, save my baby!”

Her baby. Not mine. The cries I had heard had been the cries of this woman’s child. The result of a car accident.

“Hurry!” she shouted, struggling to her feet. “Hurry, for the love of God, the gas tank!” And then she collapsed in a heap of unintelligible sobs.

I could not believe what I was seeing. Jameson was clambering over the vehicle to reach the door nearest the child. The flames—and I had seen firsthand the explosive effects of flames on a vampire—were licking up around him. So close to him…

I got to my feet, leaving the woman, hurrying forward. The vampire wrenched the door free and sent it flying into the night. If daylight had allowed the young mother to see his strength, she’d have fainted dead away. I nearly did, when I saw how far that scrap of metal sailed. And then Jameson was inside, crawling, tearing at the belts that held the child prisoner. He paused no less than three times to beat at flames that lapped at his clothes. But each time went right back to the child.

I ran closer, reaching the car just as he emerged with the baby cradled in his arms. He raced toward me, pushing the child at me, dropping to his knees, and it was only then that I realized his delicate vampire’s skin was smoldering. Thin spirals of smoke rose from it like specters reaching to the night sky. His black eyes held mine for only an instant, and I saw the agony there. And then I felt it, the hot brands searing his skin, as if it were my own. He rose, staggered away from us, and I saw the stream gurgling in the distance. I heard the splash as he reached it, and the heat on my skin faded, but the pain remained.

The baby cooed and chirped at me, drawing my gaze. I looked down at her, and hugged her gently to my breast. But my heart was slowly breaking. Her lush hair wasn’t raven, but red. Her eyes, not jet, but baby-blue. And the plumpness to her cheeks and triple chin, her drooling mouth gave me to know she was a good deal older than my Amber Lily. Cutting teeth already, perhaps.

One chubby, questing hand reached up to grip a handful of my hair and tug almost playfully.

“Please…”

I lifted my gaze. The woman. She’d managed to get to her feet again, and she stood before me now. Her face already bruising, her hair tangled and her lip bleeding. She stretched out her arms toward her child, tears streaming down her face.

Closing my eyes, I swallowed hard. Her child. Her precious child, not mine. I bent to kiss the infant’s silky-soft cheek, and then I placed it in its mother’s loving arms.

She hugged the baby close, bowing her head as sobs wrenched her slender frame. Sirens in the distance, then. Another vehicle pulling off the road. White headlights illuminating the darkness, contaminating its preternatural purity with artificial light. Light that didn’t belong in the night, I thought. It was an intruder.

I took one last look at the mother and child, embracing and sobbing. And then I slipped away into the shadows, where I belonged.

Jameson lay neck-deep in the icy waters of a fast-running stream, and let the chill sink in. Its cold seemed to work into his pores, easing the horrible searing sensation. Stopping the blistering and popping of his skin. It slowed the burning. Even numbed the pain a little. Not nearly enough.

Dammit, he was hurting.

He closed his eyes, wishing the cold would anesthetize him to it, but he knew better. The best he could do was find shelter and let the day sleep do its work. At least he wouldn’t have to suffer long.

And as soon as the sun set tonight, he’d go after Angelica. No doubt she was long gone by now. He just hoped she didn’t find his baby and take her off to parts unknown before he caught up with her. He wanted to see Amber Lily. He wanted to hold her just once in his arms, snuggle her close, before he returned to take DPI down. He needed to feel her, to know she was real.

He didn’t really blame Angelica for seeing him as an unfit father. An unrepentant vampire must seem like a pretty strange being to her. One who loved what he’d become. One who relished it, and wouldn’t go back to being mortal if it were as simple as swallowing a pill. When it was all she longed for in her heart of hearts. And besides all that, there was his violent nature. His hatred for DPI, and his determination to destroy it. She didn’t really think he’d expose his daughter to that dark side of him, did she? He only wanted to love her. Just for a short time, before he did what he had to do.

But thanks to some cruel twist of fate he might never get the chance now. Angelica would be far away by the time he’d recovered enough from the burns to go after her. But he would find her again. He didn’t think there was a force on earth that could keep him from finding her.

Soft splashing sounds made him jerk his head up fast. And then he blinked and squinted to be sure he wasn’t seeing an illusion. Angelica, sloshing through the water, soaking the sexy black dress she wore clear to her hips as she made her way to him. She stopped beside him. And he looked into her eyes and was thinking of making some smart remark about how he’d expected her to be gone by now.

But he couldn’t. Because what he saw in her eyes was devastation. And she looked at him, and her lips pulled away from her teeth in an expression of pure heartbreak. Her back bowed forward and her shoulders shuddered and her eyes squeezed shut tight. But she didn’t burst into tears. She battled them back. Fought them valiantly. And won.

Ah, hell, he knew that bitter anguish. He’d felt it, too. At first, when he’d heard that baby’s cries, he’d thought…

He’d thought he’d finally found his daughter. And when he’d held the baby in his arms, even knowing by then that she wasn’t his own…it had been heaven and hell all rolled into one.

Angelica drew a shaking breath and stiffened her spine, slowly standing straight and strong again. A water goddess, rising from the waves, taming them. A phoenix bird, full of fire, rising from the ashes. Pulling herself upright, despite the pain. “Can you stand?” she asked him. “Walk?”

Her voice was brittle. Like it would snap right in two in a stiff breeze. She hated him. He didn’t blame her, either, after that little fiasco in the basement. But for Christ’s sake, he was half out of his mind wanting her. Craving her. Fantasizing about the things he wanted to do to her. Knowing full well she felt the same… and all the time knowing she was repulsed by wanting him that way. He repulsed her. It was a lot for a man’s pride to take.

And he’d been hot as hell and frustrated and furious over the entire situation. Who better to take it out on than her? She who was disgusted by his very touch. Who better?

Her hands slid over his shoulders and she pulled him to his feet. “I asked if you could walk, Vampire. Answer me.”

“I can walk,” he said. Then he stood up to prove it.

“Then you’d better do so. And fast. It will be dawn soon.”

He narrowed his eyes, tilted his head. “I thought you’d decided to go off on your own, Angel? Thought you’d be halfway to Timbuktu by now.”

“Well, I’m not.” She walked close beside him, one hand poised near his elbow, as if she’d catch him should he fall. She walked slowly, her dress dragging through the swift-running dark waters. And he remained at her side, and wondered why she hadn’t left him. Why she was helping him. Why it made him so damned angry to know her true feelings. The emotional ones, not the physical.

To his horror, he stumbled the second he stepped out of the water. Without the stream’s icy touch, the pain was back, full force, and it hit him like a mallet.

But his Angel was right there, living up to his sarcastic nickname for her. She stood close, pulling his arm around her shoulders, and slipping hers around his waist. She held him so close it was almost as if she truly cared. And she winced each time the pain flared hotter, and he knew she was feeling it, too.

He couldn’t move very far. He knew that. He hadn’t the strength, and he’d never make it all the way back to that abandoned farmhouse they’d planned to spend the day in. Maybe, if he had strength enough for speed. But not like this. He’d never make it before dawn. She ought to go on alone. He ought to tell her…

But he needn’t have worried. It was only minutes before she found shelter, a miniature cave cut into the rocky hillside. She helped him inside, moving all the way to the farthest reaches of the place, and then easing him down onto the cool, rocky floor. She hurried outside, leaving him alone.

He didn’t suspect her of abandoning him this time. No, he was beginning to know her a bit too well to think she’d leave him in this sorry state. She might hate him, but she was a woman of ethics. He didn’t imagine she could leave her worst enemy in this kind of agony.

She returned, moments later, her arms loaded down with pine boughs. Half a tree’s worth, by the looks. She wove a solid wall of them, and braced them at the mouth of the cave to keep out the sun. And then she came back inside, kneeling before him, sharp black eyes racing over his body, narrowing on every angry red burn mark that she spotted.

“I could make a fire, to dry our clothes,” she said.

“I’d rather not look at another fire for a while.” The burns were small brands, up and down his calves mostly, but a few patches on his forearms and back had taken some heat as well.

“Will this kill you?” she whispered, her eyes meeting his.

“You couldn’t be so lucky,” he told her, and he saw her lips thin. The pain in her eyes intensified.

“You’re in agony.”

“So are you,” he said, sitting up a little, searching her face. She averted it quickly, but not quickly enough. He’d seen the tears. “My pain will be gone with the night, Angel. It’s only a few more minutes until dawn. But yours is going to follow you into your dreams, isn’t it?”

Her shoulders quaked, and when she turned to face him again, her cheeks were wet, her body trembling. “I thought it was her,” she whispered. “When I heard that baby crying, I thought…”

“I know.” His own throat tightened. “I know, Angel. I thought so, too.”

Her head bowed as the tears overwhelmed her, and he couldn’t help himself. He wrapped his arms around her shuddering frame and pulled her close to him. And he held her, choking back his own anguished tears. He hated this woman, he told himself. He hated her because she was disgusted by him.

The hell with it. He’d get back to hating her later. He didn’t hate her now. Not at all. He stroked her silken hair, and caressed her trembling shoulders, and he rocked her in his arms until the pine needles at the entrance began to lighten with the rising sun. And then he cradled her as she slipped into sleep. A few moments later, he followed her there.

He was not a monster. I stirred awake, still nestled in his arms, my head resting upon his chest. And I knew that I had misjudged him so thoroughly that I could not have been more wrong. Of course I had. I’d put him on the defensive right from the start, attacked him and accused him, and he’d shown me his worst in return. If he despised me, I realized, I’d given him reason.

He had known that the screaming child was not his own. He had known it
before
he’d gone to the overturned car. There was no doubt of that. And yet he’d gone, all the same. He’d burned himself, and I knew enough of my kind to realize that a single false move or stray breeze or misstep could have sent him up in a blinding conflagration. At any moment, he could have suffered the same agonizing death as that creature I’d killed. But he risked it, to save the child of a stranger. And a mortal stranger, at that.

I had known mortal men, Christian men, who would not have done what this dark demon had done. He was not the embodiment of evil. He was not a devil sent to tempt me into sin. He was just a man, I realized, lifting my head and allowing my eyes to roam his face. A man filled with anger and in search of vengeance, yes. But also a man with a good heart, and boundless courage, and unselfish valor.

And beautiful velvet-brown eyes with stripes of ebony that glittered in the moonlight.

And a well-deserved dislike for me.

His eyes opened, searched mine. “You’re awake before me,” he said, still sounding sleepy. “That’s unusual.”

“The burns must have weakened you more than you realized.” I sat up slowly, hating to pull my body from the wonderful nest of his. His chest made a fine pillow, and his arms had remained around me even as he’d rested.

“You’re probably right. I still feel a little fuzzy.”

My head came around, my eyes locking with his. “Perhaps you need…”

His gaze dipped to the hollow of my throat only briefly, before he slammed his eyes closed and turned his head away. “What I need is to get the hell out of this cave.” He lunged to his feet and hurried to the doorway, a single swipe of his powerful arm sending my pine-bough door sailing into the night. Then he stepped outside, tipped his head back and inhaled, expanded his marvelous chest and stretched his arms overhead. I remained in the doorway, simply watching him. Fully appreciating—not for the first time—the utter beauty of the man. And I realized that perhaps I had been unable to see such things before. Clinging to my mortal ways of thinking.

It was high time I got used to the idea that I was not a mortal woman anymore.

The thought sent a shiver of what might have been fear—or might have been excitement—up the base of my neck. And I realized there was something else tickling my senses as well. Something bright and shining.

And then I recognized it. My child…she was near. And she was well. Content and safe. Warm, and comfortable, and unafraid. I was slowly infused with a new sense of hope, and a certainty that I would hold that tiny blessing in my arms before this night ended. The knowledge—and it was that. Knowledge—certainty—left me nearly giddy with excitement.

I left the cave, and went out to stand behind him. “She’s all right,” I said to him, and he turned very slowly, frowning at me. “Amber Lily is well, and safe, and we’re close to her, Jameson. I can feel her.”

He smiled, fully smiled. And if I’d seen his smile before, I did not remember it. The flash of his white teeth in the darkness was a thing of rare beauty. He came close to me, took both my hands in his. “You’re sure?”

“Yes,” I told him. “Yes, we’re very close. We’ll find her soon. I know it.”

He closed his eyes in relief, releasing the night air he’d inhaled, and letting my hands fall from his grasp as he did. “Good. The others should be coming along any time now,” he said. “We’ll meet them at that abandoned house where we left the car.”

I tipped my head sideways. “How do you know that?”

He laughed, a sultry, sensual sound that came from deep in his chest. “Angelica, we’re not the only two vampires who can communicate without words. Though…it does seem much more powerful between you and me.”

I didn’t look away when he stared down into my eyes.

“Close those amethyst eyes, Angel,” he said softly, speaking to me as gently as if he were speaking to a lover. “And think of the others. Speak to them.”

“But they’re not even here yet.”

“Try,” he coaxed.

So I did. I closed my eyes and put Tamara’s gentle face firmly in my mind. My thoughts were slow and deliberate and I concentrated fiercely.
Tamara? Are you there? Can you hear me
?

I’ll be seeing you within the hour, Angelica
. Very clearly and as soft as her spoken words, the voice of Tamara’s thoughts sang out to me.

My eyes opened wide in surprise.
Did you find out anything
? I thought rapidly, hope surging in my chest.

We have a location for the cabin. By the time you two get back to Jamey’s car, we’ll be there. I promise, Angelica.

I frowned and looked at the vampire, who’d been watching me intently. “She calls you Jamey,” I said, brows lifting. “I’ve been meaning to ask about it.”

“It’s what I was called when I was just a boy. Tamara seems to have trouble breaking old habits.” He shook his head in exasperation. “Sometimes she has a hard time remembering that I’m not a child any longer.”

How anyone could look at this strong, tall, handsome man with the anger in his soul and think of him as a child, I did not know.

He had the build of a god. A dark, dangerous pagan god, with erotic promises gleaming in his eyes. And the more time I spent with him, the more desperately I wanted him to fulfill those promises for me.

His head snapped toward me, eyes flaring wider.

“What?” I asked him, startled.

He blinked, and shook his head. “Nothing. Never mind. Come on, we’d better start back.”

“There is no hurry,” I told him, joining him stride for stride all the same. “I can run just like the wind.”

He looked at me a little strangely. “Yes, that’s true enough.”

“I didn’t realize it before.” I turned to look up at him as we walked. “What else can I do, Vampire?”

His brows rose, jaw twitching now and again. And he seemed unable to look into my eyes for very long. “Well, you know already about the jumping.”

“Almost like flying,” I said, and I tipped my head back, eyeing the tall, broad limb of a hard maple tree. “I wonder how high I can go?”