Dark Heart of the Sun (Dark Destinies Book 1) (27 page)

Jackson picked his way through tangled, tropical vegetation into the backyard. There was a fire nearby. He could smell an acrid stench that got stronger the farther he pushed into the jungle. Mosquitos whined around his head, hungry for blood.

Baffled, he came to a stop before several small mounds of pristine white sand. Some shreds of fabric poked out of them. The micro tracker sat right on top, its black coloring blending in with the yellow and black floral pattern of what remained of a Hawaiian shirt.

A cool quagmire opened somewhere deep at the bottom of his mind. Something wasn’t right. Reluctantly he bent to tug at the shirt remnants, retrieving the tracker. As he did, the sand shifted, spreading almost like a liquid. Feather-light particles drifted into the air around him. No, not sand . . . 

Ash.

And not just any ash.

The piles had a shape to them, unmistakable now that he allowed himself to see what he was looking at. Jackson swallowed hard, tasting ash, smelling fire—wood fire, old fire—and the complete disintegration of an ancient vampire.

An ancient vampire tagged with his tracker.

A tracker he didn’t remember placing.

A tremor shook him. He scanned the yard, desperate for any clues that could shake lose his obviously altered memories. His eyes fell on another, smaller pile of ash a few paces away. Hidden in deeper shadows, it still retained its original skull outline. Something had separated the head from the body, something like a sword maybe.

A sword like the ones in the youngling’s lair.

Jackson’s heart pounded in his ears. Traces of ash glittered all around, glinting even in the vegetation swaying overhead and along the edge of the roof. Vampire blood in the light of day. Deep gouges pockmarked the weathered wall. He could almost see the tip of a sword hitting there, powered by an inhuman strength locked in a battle to the death between two utterly mismatched opponents.

And Cassidy . . . between them.

The fog in his brain cleared before a storm of memories, crystal clear and all at once. His encounter—no,
alliance
—with his target, the youngling. His struggle to wrest Cassidy from an ancient monster, and his complete failure to do so. Yet she had survived the night. Because of Dominic. Who had not failed.

Jackson’s legs buckled, sending him crashing to the ground. He stared at the ash shifting around his knees.

It moved as fluidly as the truth.

Chapter 27

Alone in the Dark

Cassidy woke with a start. Silver moonlight flooded the room. Eddie lay beside her, paws tucked under him, his round eyes and swiveling ears keyed toward the door and the sound of the downstairs shower running.

So I’m alone in a house with a vampire. At night.

She had spent so much time imagining this scenario during the day it almost didn’t register as extraordinary. By the clock on her nightstand, it was 4:32 Monday morning, and her limbs felt nailed to the mattress, her brain sluggish. She wanted to see him. She wanted to talk to him.

She wanted to sleep.

Cassidy put her hand on Eddie’s back and closed her eyes.

She woke when the massive cat scrambled across her in a mad rush to get off the bed. Muttering, she rolled over . . . and came face to face with Dominic. He lay on his side, his head propped on one hand, wet hair slicked away from his luminous face. His sudden appearance seemed more like another dream than reality. She glanced down the lean, muscled length of him, poured there with such grace. He wore the black gym pants, the new skull-and-crossbones pirate shirt, and an expression of amusement.

“Very sneaky,” she said. “Didn’t you promise to stay out of here?”

“Do you want me to leave?”

Déjà vu swept over her together with the velvet timber of his voice. “That depends. Have you eaten?”

Small smile. “
Oui.
”

“I see. Did you kill anyone tonight?” Might as well get this over with.

His eyes became enormous pools of darkness. He blew out an exasperated breath. “Why are you still here?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“After all you have seen? It did not occur to you during the safe light of day to pack your bags and go?”

“I didn’t say that.” She propped herself up on one elbow, facing him. “But I decided not to.”

“You are insane, Madame,” he declared with a quiet vehemence that rippled down her back.

“I’m going by history. You haven’t hurt me yet. I don’t believe you will. What I know or don’t know doesn’t matter.”

“You know
nothing.
”

“Maybe not.” That not-quite-human hiss in his voice should have made her flesh crawl, yet she felt remarkably unperturbed, and not because she knew her life depended on remaining calm. Her faith in him was absolute. She didn’t quite know why, but understood that now was not the time to question it. “I know enough to have my theories.”

His brows shot up. “More theories?
Vraiment
?”

“I know,” she said, heaving a dramatic sigh. “That last one was way off base. But given what I know now . . . well, now I think you hunt—and probably kill—every night. I think you kill those with the most guilt because they are the most terrified of what they must think is the devil himself coming for them. And . . . I think that deep down, when you feed the beast . . . you enjoy it.”

Countless emotions flitted across his face. “This does not frighten you?”

“Would I be here telling you this if it did?”

“Your cat is smarter than you.”

“Eddie knows what you are?”

“He recognizes me as the superior predator.”

“Huh. And you haven’t hurt him either. Interesting.”

“He has wisely avoided me. As should you,” he snapped.

Cassidy chewed on her lip, considering. “You’re being more of a pain in the ass than usual. This isn’t you.”

“And you are being more foolish than usual. You only
think
you know me.”

“Then why don’t you start by telling me how close I am with my theory?”

“Your theory is not nearly grim enough.”

“Enlighten me.”

He didn’t hesitate. “The first body I drained was my own father. And my beloved baby sister, Anastasie, for whom I committed murder with my bare hands.” He shrugged. “Her, too, I killed.”

Cassidy swallowed hard. She’d asked for it. “That’s . . . grim.”

“And Jeovana, my beautiful Italian love,” he crooned. “I buried my cock between her thighs and my fangs in her throat until she lay dead in my arms.”

Cassidy couldn’t quite suppress the shiver rattling through her. How had Dominic gotten so close? He tilted his head as if he might kiss her. The tip of his nose brushed hers. Her senses swam with his clean masculine fragrance, his tremendous leashed strength. She couldn’t move a muscle.

“You see,
ma petite fou
, I am deadly to everyone near me,” he whispered. “Everyone . . . is . . . prey.”

“Did—” She swallowed again to wet a mouth gone dusty dry. “Did you have a choice?”

The vampire in her bed became so motionless he might as well have been painted there in moonlight. Cold, mesmeric beauty. Still, lethal grace.

“Answer me.” She gulped. “And don’t start lying to me now.”

“I am a greedy bastard. I always have been. I take my pleasure where I find it. I leave the bodies where they drop.”

She shook her head. “No. No, I don’t believe that.”

“But it is the truth.” Raising his chin, he narrowed his eyes and sniffed at the air, looking much like a leopard seeking the scent of prey. “Tell me,
ma petite
. Do you still wish to feed me?”

“Didn’t you say you already . . . ate tonight?” A thin shard of apprehension slid through her.

“I’m in the mood for dessert.”

She became aware of how her heart pounded against her ribs. Judging by his sharpening regard of her, he heard it, too.

“I’m guessing you’re not really giving me a choice. Are you?” And maybe that wasn’t a bad thing. If he drank her blood, they might rekindle that strange mental connection, and she could get to the bottom of this bizarre mood. She turned her head, exposing her throat.

But instead of taking the anticipated bite, the vampire slid a hand beneath the sheet and caressed her bare thigh. Lightning forked along every nerve.

“Don’t do that.”

“You were so much more agreeable last time.” His fingers circled around the back of her knee.

“Last—?” She felt faint. “That . . . wasn’t a dream?”

He shook his head slowly, looking every kind of smug. Cassidy rolled to her back and stared at the ceiling, recalling their encounter the night of the storm—the hard lines of his body against hers, the strength of those arms around her, the silk taste of his mouth in hers.

The soul-deep hunger for more.

Real, all of it—and nothing at all like this.

Leaning over her, Dominic feathered his fingertips up the inside of her leg, sending unwelcome sensations rippling through her belly. His eyes, full of empty darkness, regarded her like the meal she clearly was about to be. Pulling back the sheet, he lowered his face to her crotch and inhaled.

Cassidy made to scramble away, but he caught and held her hips with both hands.

“You can’t be serious, Dominic. No!”

“Blood is blood.”

“It’s disgusting is what it is!”

“A matter of opinion.” He subdued her struggles with laughable ease as he rucked up her sleep shirt and divested her of the utilitarian underwear and pad.

“I’m hurting, you bastard,” she hissed. “This is not fun for me.” He pushed her legs apart. She tried to kick at him, but she might as well have been battling steel ties. A sense of helplessness gripped her, morphing into panic, driving tears to her eyes. “Do you hear me? Stop! Please!”

“But this is entertaining for a greedy, bloodthirsty bastard such as myself. And you will feel better once you relax,” he added on a bland note.

Then he helped himself to ‘dessert’ as though enjoying a most delectable scoop of ice cream.

She gasped and clapped her hands over her face. She didn’t want to see this, didn’t want to know it. She didn’t want to be here. But she couldn’t stop feeling what he did to her, and her aching body responded with astounding fervor. She bit her lip against the pitifully needy whimper shuddering through her, but couldn’t stop the throaty cry that followed hard on its heels.

Dominic moaned with pleasure. Relentless in his pursuit of what he craved, he used all his considerable erotic skills to get it without so much as pricking her skin. By the time the second wave of ecstasy washed through her, Cassidy ceased to care. He had been correct—physically, she did feel better. With each release, the lingering cramps unraveled like knots in a satin rope. Nothing but a deep, powerful hunger remained which only he could satisfy, and satisfy it he did.

She didn’t know how much time passed before he decided he had enough or that maybe she had had enough. She lay panting and numb, staring unseeing at the ceiling, her hands fisted in the sheets. He moved up between her legs, holding her pinned with his weight. Not that she possessed either will or energy to resist anything at this point.

Much as a cat might after a particularly satisfying meal, Dominic wiped at his face with his fingers and then licked them clean. He was doing a less than stellar job of it, though. Blood still smeared his chin when he turned to leer at her.

“What a pity I have to wait a whole month to do that again.”

“You fucking son of a bitch,” she croaked.

“You liked that. I know you did.”

“I asked you not to. I begged you.” With the lust abated, fury rose in its place. The back of her eyes prickled. “
Why
did you do that?”

“Because I wanted to.” He cocked his head to the side and casually toyed with one of her breasts. “Because I can.”

She shivered. “What is wrong with you, Dominic? This isn’t you.”

“You know exactly what is wrong with me. You know the true me.” His smile was as empty as his eyes, which were bottomless pits of nothing sucking her in. “Do you hate me yet, Cassidy,
ma chère
?”

She said nothing. Neither did she blink as the tears welled from her eyes.

“Good.” His voice took on that persuasive pitch that vibrated right through her. “Now . . . go to sleep.”

Desperate to escape this nightmare reality, she accepted the compulsion without reservation. She wanted to wake up in the morning and believe none of this had been real.

With the last flicker of her conscious mind she felt him stir and opened her eyes one more time. He had turned away toward the moon floating over the sea. Not a trace of derision remained on his exquisite face.

What was there instead strangled her heart even as she dropped into oblivion.