Read Holiday with a Vampire 4 Online
Authors: Susan Krinard,Theresa Meyers,Linda Thomas-Sundstrom
Holiday with a Vampire 4 (13 page)
She nodded. Cullen grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Then just relax. This will be over soon.”
She’d already lost so much blood there was no need to nearly drain her. He bent and kissed her neck. Her pulse was thin and thready. He’d never created a vampire before and he hoped like hell he was doing it right. With a flick his fangs descended and he used them to slice across his wrist, letting the thin black ichor that flowed through his veins dribble into her mouth.
Angel coughed against the flow, but drank. Suddenly her eyes bulged and she grew stiff against him.
“Let it pass. The body is fighting to survive.”
She grabbed hold of his coat. “Cullen. Save me.”
The last few beats of her heart slowed until all he heard was the faint
ka-thunk, kaa-thunk, kaaaa-thunk,
then stillness.
Slivers of golden light streaked across the sky as dawn broke. She lay still, so impossibly still that Cullen wondered if he’d somehow screwed things up.
“Angel? Angel, can you hear me?”
* * *
Angel heard him. She could feel the wool of his coat abrading her cheek, but she was immobile, frozen in her own body, unable to move or speak. Inside her head she screamed in frustration, and Cullen twitched.
Angel, can you hear me?
his voice echoed in her head.
Cullen? Cullen! I’m here. I can’t breathe! Why can’t I move? Why are you talking to me in my head?
Just relax. Give the ichor time to work. You don’t need to breathe. You’ll be able to move soon enough.
He held her tenderly in his arms as they waited. The sound of sirens came wailing, coming nearer. Someone must have called the police when they heard the gunshot.
Angel winced and found she could blink her eyes.
“Welcome back, beautiful.”
It took all the effort she had to turn her head and gaze up at him and smile. Cullen helped her sit up as an ambulance pulled into the parking lot. A flutter of panic lodged in her stomach. They were sure to notice the bloodstained shirt, the hole in her chest and the fact that she had no pulse.
Cullen, what are we going to do?
Don’t worry. I’ve got this.
She watched as Cullen turned and greeted the paramedics and police officer. He spoke in slow, even tones, and their eyes grew glassy and unfocused. “She has merely gotten grazed by the bullet. It was a random shot.”
Angel bit her bottom lip, hoping that whatever he was doing would work. There was enough blood and the placement of the bullet wound right over her chest would easily enough prove everything he’d said was a lie. The paramedics briefly looked her over and seemed perfectly satisfied it was a flesh wound. The police officer took Cullen’s statement, and soon enough they were left alone once more.
Cullen wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close.
“How on earth did you do that?”
He smiled. “I threw a glamour over them. It’s a handy trick I’ll have to teach you. Particularly useful when you’re in negotiations over a piece you think should sell for more than the buyer is offering. It’s one of many new skills I’ll teach you.”
“But they had to see the huge hole in my chest,” she said as she unbuttoned her blouse and pulled back the shirt. Her skin was still smeared with drying blood, but only a small, white scar remained where the bullet had skewered through her. She sucked in a startled breath and stared at him. “It’s gone!”
“Being a vampire has its perks.”
She frowned slightly. “You said you could call things to you, materialize them.”
For a second Cullen hesitated. “Yes.”
“How?”
Was she truly ready? “Why?”
“I want to try something.” The fierce determination in her eyes convinced him she’d try it whether he explained it or not.
He grasped her hand and cupped it palm upward in his. “First you need to think of the thing you want, picture not just the image of it in your mind, but the essence of it. How it feels or smells, the weight, temperature and texture of it. Let that sensation of the thing start like a heat in your belly and then fill you up.”
Angel closed her eyes and concentrated on the locket. The smooth warmth of it. The way it felt against her skin. Until a slow, mellow warmth built in her core then radiated outward, like sunbeams, until her hand grew hot and she could nearly feel the locket in her hand.
“Heaven above. You’ve done it!”
Angel snapped open her eyes to find the locket safe and sound in her palm.
“I’ve tried that a thousand times, and the locket would never appear for me.”
Angel smiled. “Maybe because you belonged to it, but it didn’t belong to you.” She slowly let the length of chain slide through her fingers as she let the locket fall and coil into his palm. “But now I give it to you. As a gift and a thank-you for saving my life. You’re free now. You can do whatever you want.”
The locket shimmered for a moment, a greenish glowing cloud covering both his hand and the necklace. Then, with a burst of light, both the glowing vapor and the locket disappeared.
Angel gasped. “What happened?”
All Cullen could do was smile. He brushed the backs of his fingertips of his other hand across her cheek in a whisper-soft caress that reminded Angel of butterfly wings.
“I believe that means we’re free. Both of us.”
“So, where will you go?”
“I don’t wish to go anywhere without you. You are what I want.” He drew close, brushing a light kiss across her forehead. “Now.” The next brushed her lips. “Forever.” Then he pulled back and smiled. “Always.”
Angel wrapped her arms around his waist as she looked into the fathomless blue of his eyes and felt his next kiss all the way down to her toes. The warmth of knowing he loved her just as her, just as she was, wiped away all doubt. Whatever curse had held the locket, and them, the gift of love had set them free.
* * * * *
Bright Star
Linda Thomas-Sundstrom
To my family, those here and those gone, who always believed I had a story to tell.
Chapter 1
T
he earthy scent of a pine forest made the December night seem lush. For an immortal with his senses open full throttle, Dylan McCay found the fragrant Christmas tree lot nothing less than a sensory wonderland.
But there was no time to revel in the glories of nature. He had a job to do, and as he waited among the trees silently observing his target, he was surprised by what he found. The woman whose research of the heavens had come too close to the secrets the special beings of his world didn’t want exposed wasn’t the kind of troublemaker he had gotten used to.
Savannah Clark, PhD, astronomer, up-and-coming researcher into the age of stars, was female and younger than he would have imagined. She was fragile in appearance, almost too ethereal to be such a bother.
Yet her willowy frame housed an incredible intelligence, aided by a dogged persistence that was going to make her famous any day now. And because she was sharper than most of the others in her field, her research had sent up warning flags that had drawn him here from a great distance.
Hello, Savannah.
Tonight, she wore a crimson garment, its color both popular and indicative of the season mortals celebrated in December. Red was a color used to clothe a mythical Santa Claus but also had in its vibration the essence of violence. Red, crimson and scarlet attracted bulls in the Spanish arenas and also lured thirsty creatures out of urban hollows to drink blood from the necks of the innocent.
Savannah Clark was beautiful. She had an oval face and luminous skin. Her fair hair, cut to shoulder length and silky, radiated a golden vitality that stirred in him memories of the sun.
Despite those charms, she had to be stopped from furthering her research. He had to stop her. She was the singular objective for leaving his hundred-year, self-imposed seclusion behind. He just hadn’t anticipated how being among so many mortals, after having been distanced from them, would affect him, or that seeing this woman in person might give him pause. He had expected someone older, with an appearance to match. Savannah Clark was light in spirit and fresh-faced.
Who could have predicted that her pert, compelling features would be dominated by large blue eyes and that her movements would be elegant, almost dancelike, when she gracefully raised an arm or turned her head?
Moreover, he was amused by a time that saw women, everywhere he looked, wearing pants. Savannah Clark’s pants fit her like a scandalous second skin, showing off every lean angle and feminine curve.
These were details he should not have been noticing in an adversary he had been sent to censure. It was a shame, he thought now, that this fair-haired researcher whose progress on what had become known as the Christmas Star had roused the unwanted attention of his brethren.
I’ve come for you, Savannah Clark.
Dylan closed his lips over the points of his sharpened incisors that had extended with the first sight of this woman. His attraction had been immediate, as had his sudden curiosity about the sparkling lights and glittering chaos of the season the people around her celebrated. But he couldn’t afford to regret what he had to do. His mission was imperative to the well-being of all people in the long run.
If Savannah actually found what she’d set out to find in her system of tracing stars back to their origins, publicizing her findings might end the world as most humans knew it. If mortals found out there were creatures other than themselves populating the earth, panic might ensue.
Given the importance of his task, it was interesting how thoughts of his agenda dimmed somewhat when Savannah Clark suddenly smiled at nothing he could see. That radiant, innocent smile caused the blood in his veins to swell in restless waves.
Her jubilant expression was like an open invitation for someone used to seclusion, and a kind of spiritual food he hadn’t realized he hungered for.
Dylan continued to stare.
A few whispered words and a subtle meeting of our eyes will put an end to this visit and send me back to where I belong. If I move closer to you now, it will be over in seconds, Savannah.
His shoulder blades twitched in anticipation over the time he was taking to accomplish this objective. His goal was to get in, take care of this problem and get out, unnoticed.
But he was...hesitating.
The last time he’d had a similar task, he’d met a crusty celestial heretic named Galileo who had caused all sorts of trouble. How hard could dealing with a young astronomer like Savannah Clark be, no matter how much he respected her accomplishments or appreciated her looks?
What is it about you that stops me from doing my task, I wonder?
He felt close to her intellectually. In following her writings, he had gleaned the way her mind worked. Her more obvious physical attributes would easily cause any male’s imagination to spring into overdrive.
No matter what other titles he carried, he was male enough to imagine the warm, flawless skin beneath that red sweater. Beings like himself craved warmth and company above most other things.
Allowing himself another moment of leeway, Dylan pictured Savannah Clark’s lush nakedness spread out beneath him on a bed of silk, with her hair fanned out around her like a sun-kissed corona. That image, seared into his mind, caused a flutter inside his chest that made his fangs ache.
Yet personal feelings didn’t matter. He was supposed to be miles beyond things like that. All he had to do was take that first step toward Savanna. The rest would be easy. He’d done this before.
But he didn’t take that step.
After traveling all this way, and after existing apart from the world of mortals, he suddenly wanted to trespass in their world, a world in which he no longer belonged, for a while longer.
With that extra time, he might find out what had sparked Savannah’s interest in the Christmas Star, so that he could watch for that same warning flare of inspiration in others in the future. He might observe how mortals had evolved in their dealings with what were now called
holidays.
The lights, sights and sounds surrounding him were comforting in a strange way. Everyone here, in this small, roped-off section of a parking lot filled with trees, seemed...happy.
What he felt as he watched Savannah Clark move among the trappings of the season was a rush of pure pleasure. And both heaven and hell knew how long he had been removed from sensations like that, in fact from all feeling, out of necessity.
He wanted to keep looking at her. Surely it was as important for him to understand her research as it was to suppress it?
She turned her head. Several strands of golden hair swung to curtain part of her face. Dylan leaned forward, wanting to catch hold of those golden strands with a need so strong it was accompanied by a sharp, unexpected stab of pain.
He could not touch her. No agenda stretched that far. He wasn’t like her, and she most certainly was nothing like him.
But her turn had caused her sweater to open at the collar, revealing a triangle of ivory skin stretched across delicate bones. Above those bones lay an artistic lacing of fine lavender veins.
Dylan’s body began to throb, as if he was at war with himself. Waves of pleasure beat at him mercilessly, when Savannah Clark had no right to affect him in any way. The spark inside her that signaled her life force was a difference too vast to be breached. The loss of his spark was just a memory.
Before realizing that he had moved, Dylan took a step toward her.
“Perhaps you,” he said as he continued to watch Savannah, flashing his fangs briefly, “hold the key to this mysterious lapse in behavior.”
In fact, he was almost sure that she did.
And what self-respecting being of any kind didn’t like the challenge of a good mystery to solve, now and then?
* * *
Moving to the opposite side of the seven-foot Douglas fir that she had chosen to take home, Savannah gave the handsome stranger in the next aisle a covert sideways glance.
Though she liked what she saw, she knew it wasn’t advisable to talk to, or stare at, strangers. Even if this guy had the “it” factor in spades.
He had a towering presence, broad shoulders and dark brown hair reaching to the chin of a face that seemed unusually pale in the moonlight, even for December. The whiteness of his skin stood out in the night like a star would among the dark heavens. And once she made that kind of analogy—star, heavens—Savannah was entranced.
“Of course,” she muttered, “looks can be deceiving.”
Still, she was willing to bet that someone so delicious would be good in bed, though fantasies like that were futile. She wouldn’t have known what to say if he walked right up and spoke to her. Astronomers were geeks. Most of her time was spent alone, with a computer and a world-famous telescope.
All she knew about were stars. All she really cared about were stars.
So, you,
she wanted to tell the guy who had given her heart a jump start from a distance,
are a nonissue, and nothing for me to lose sleep over.
In afterthought, she added,
Although I actually did wish upon a star tonight for a partner, companion, lover and mate, only hopeless romantics and idiots believe that a star can listen, let alone help that wish along.
Wrapping both hands around the trunk of her tree, Savannah smiled wistfully at it. “It’s just you and me, tree.”
“Can I help with that?” someone behind her asked.
She turned toward whoever had made the offer. “Sure. Thanks. Help would be appreciated.”
Blinking, her eyes came level with the top button of a dark coat. Without having to look up, her body issued a warning alert.
Can’t be him. Not that guy.
She hadn’t even seen him move.
It was that guy, though, not only two heads taller than she was, but oozing an overt masculinity that triggered an unusual rumbling sensation deep inside her.
“This tree is quite a bit taller than you are,” he said in a voice that was deep, husky and sexy as hell. “I’ve been wondering how you were going to move it.”
Being unused to people invading her personal space, Savannah found his closeness, after all those renegade wishes, unusually intimate. Stepping back, feeling a flush rise up her neck, she said, “It is rather large, isn’t it? Still, if my ceiling was any higher than eight feet, I’d opt for something from the next row over.”
Her heart was thumping monstrously.
“There are hundreds of trees here. How did you choose this one out of so many?” he asked politely.
“It spoke to me.”
She glanced up to see if he smiled, and continued, “I guess it just comes down to personal taste. I like my trees fresh and fluffy. Some people prefer a leaner, more modern, less branchy aesthetic.”
She sounded too much like a scientist. “On a more metaphysical note, maybe there is only one tree meant for me here, and I somehow magically found it. That explanation would be more in keeping with the spirit of the season, I’m thinking.”
“So,” he said, nodding slowly, “could it be said that a holiday tree from a place like this one should match a person’s personality in some way, in order to be a perfect fit?”
“Are you saying I’m fluffy?”
“I’m merely trying to understand your interest in this particular tree and what made you smile when you found it.”
He had been watching her, too. The realization caused the heat of a rising flush to reach her cheeks.
“It’s a pretty tree,” Savannah said. “I liked it. Simple as that, if you don’t believe in trees actually speaking to people.”
“Well, I like it, too,” he agreed. “This was a good choice. I suppose admitting that says something about me?”
“Fluffy,” Savannah said. “Totally. Sorry to be the one to deliver that news.”
He grinned. When he leaned forward, Savannah allowed herself to imagine for one odd, highly electrifying moment that he was going to kiss her, unwarranted and out of the blue. But that turned out to be pure delusion on her part. The man beside her merely pressed a stray strand of her hair back from her face with his gloved hand, in a gesture as personal as any kiss would have been.
Struggling to speak, not sure how to respond, she said, “I can find another Christmas tree. If you’d like to keep this one, it’s yours.”
The object of her illicit desire was silent for a moment. Maybe he wasn’t used to generosity and unselfishness in the season of giving, but the offer made her feel good. She’d give him the tree and that would be that, in spite of the warm current saturating the air between them.
“I wouldn’t think of taking your tree,” he finally said. “Thank you for the offer, though. It’s kind of you to want to share the tree that spoke to you.”
“Well, two kindnesses in one Christmas tree lot has to be some sort of record,” she remarked. “I’m thinking win-win, right? Maybe score some points with the jolly old elf himself?”
Pulling her sweater tightly around her, Savannah watched the man’s lips again lift in response to her elf remark. They were full lips, nice lips, though almost as colorless as his face.
She chanced a better look at him. He was, after all, the epitome of the tall, dark-haired and handsome cliché. Who could blame her for having delusions of grandeur?
The chiseled cheekbones were a true gift. His long, tapered nose gave him an aquiline air that didn’t detract from the rugged, masculine thing he had going on. This guy was all man, for sure. Maybe too much so, since his eyes, which might have been light blue, were trained on her intently.
“Shall we go?” she suggested, wanting to avoid the directness of that gaze. “I really would appreciate the help if you’re willing to drag this tree to the car for me. My hands are frozen.”
A new tactile sensation followed her remark. He had placed something in her right hand. Gloves.
His
gloves. The leather emitted an aromatic scent of animal hide that in a contest might have won out over the coveted fragrance of pine. She’d been so wrapped up in checking out his features, she hadn’t been aware of his hands.
“Helping you will be a pleasure,” he said. “Win-win, I believe, was how you put it?”