Night's Promise (12 page)

Sheree cried while packing her suitcases, cried when she went to bed that night, sobbed quietly in the taxi on the way to the airport and during the flight to Philadelphia, and sniffled on the taxi ride home.

When her father opened the door, he took one look at her tear-ravaged face and folded her in his arms.

“Whatever it is, ducky, it can’t be as bad as all that.”

“Oh, Daddy, you have no idea!” And the worst of it was, she couldn’t tell him everything.

“It’s got to be man trouble,” Brian Westerbrooke murmured, draping his arm around her shoulders as he guided her into the living room.

Sheree nodded. “Where’s Mother?”

“The hospital was having an auction. Naturally, she’s in charge. She took Trudy with her. They should be home in an hour or so.”

Trudy Simmons lived in the little cottage behind the house. She had worked for Sheree’s parents for as long as Sheree could remember. She was a sort of jill-of-all-trades, taking up whatever slack was left by the maid, the cook, and the gardeners.

“Sit down while I pour you a drink,” her father said. “You look like you could use one.”

Sheree glanced around the room, trying to imagine Derek in her mother’s immaculate parlor, with its pristine white carpets, taupe walls, and Louis XV furniture. There wasn’t a spot of dust to be found. Fresh flowers graced the tables. A trio of magazines was set, just so, on the ornate coffee table in front of the high-backed sofa. The drapes were tightly closed against the afternoon sun.

“Here you go, ducky.” Handing her a glass of chardonnay, her father joined her on the sofa. “Now, tell me all about it.”

Sheree told him what she could, how she had met Derek in a nightclub and quickly fallen in love with him, how he had secrets he couldn’t share, and that his life might be in danger.

Brian Westerbrooke listened attentively, nodding now and then.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” Sheree said, “so I came home.”

“Well, that was exactly the right thing to do,” Brian said. “We’re expected at the Somersets’ tonight to celebrate Neil’s promotion. I think a party and several glasses of champagne are just what you need to take your mind off your troubles.”

Sheree groaned softly as she imagined spending the evening with Neil at the Somersets’. No doubt the Uptons would also be there.

Why had she ever thought coming home would be a good idea?

 

 

The Somersets’ house was ablaze with lights when Sheree and her parents arrived. Her mother looked elegant in a gown by Dior, her father as handsome as always in Armani. Sheree had chosen a black, off-the-shoulder frock because the color reminded her of Derek and suited her mood at the same time.

She smiled at Mr. and Mrs. Somerset, tried not to grimace when Neil bowed over her hand and kissed it.

“How lovely you look,” he said. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

Murmuring, “Thank you,” she tried to free her hand from his, but he seemed determined to hold it. And then she saw Ralph striding toward them, and she knew why Neil wouldn’t let go.

“Sheree!” Ralph gushed. Ignoring Neil, Ralph kissed her on both cheeks. “You look good enough to eat!”

Ralph rescued her hand from Neil’s. “The orchestra is tuning up. I believe the first dance should be mine.”

“And all the rest are mine,” Neil said, smirking.

Resigned, Sheree followed Ralph into the ballroom. Holding her too close, he said, “I knew you’d come back.”

“Did you?”

“How could you stay away, babe?” he said with an arrogant smile. “I knew there was something between us when we danced together at Leonardo’s wedding.”

All too soon, Neil came to claim her. Holding her even closer than her previous partner, he spent the entire time bragging about his promotion, hinting that all he needed was a good woman, like her, to make his life complete.

As soon as the song ended, Ralph claimed her again.

By the end of the evening, Sheree felt like a piece of taffy, having been constantly pulled back and forth.

 

 

Glad that the evening at the Somersets’ was over, Sheree kicked off her heels, hung up her dress, and fell back on her bed. Her feet were killing her.

Lying there, staring up at the ceiling of her old room, she fervently wished she had stayed in California. By night’s end, she had danced with every eligible man at the party, and foolishly compared them all to Derek, which explained why none of them had appealed to her. None of the men she knew measured up to her vampire. Her vampire, she thought, and wondered if she would ever see him again.

Slamming her fist against the mattress, Sheree chided herself for being such a coward. Vampire or werewolf, what difference did it make? She loved the man inside. And yet . . . how many times had Derek warned her that she would always be prey? Maybe it was time to pay attention. Then again, which would be worse, risking her life to be with the man she loved, or spending the rest of her life without him?

There was really no choice.

Her anger faded as she pictured him in her mind—tall, broad shouldered, as handsome as the devil, as sexy as sin.

Still, she thought, it might be wise to wait until after the full moon before returning to California. And, in the meantime, she could get her parents used to the idea that she intended to marry a California boy.

Assuming he would have her.

“McDonald is here!” Pearl couldn’t keep a tremor of fear out of her voice.

“Lou McDonald?” Edna glanced around Drac’s Dive. The dance floor was crowded; the bar was packed with couples, and with singles hoping to score. “Where? I don’t see her.”

“There, at the far end of the bar. The woman in the long black coat.”

Edna sent a nonchalant glance over her shoulder. Lou McDonald didn’t look very intimidating. She was no more than five feet tall, with light blond hair and skin almost as pale as that of the vampires she hunted. But her eyes, ah, there was death in her cold blue eyes.

“We should leave,” Pearl said. “She’s not looking this way. If we hurry, we can sneak out before she sees us.”

Grabbing Edna’s hand, Pearl edged toward the door. She breathed a sigh of relief as she stepped outside, with Edna close on her heels, only to come to an abrupt halt when a woman stepped in front of them. Pearl had never seen her before, but she recognized the stink of a hunter.

Before she could dissolve into mist, the hunter slapped a handcuff around Pearl’s wrist. The silver sizzled against her skin.

Before Edna could react, Lou McDonald had come up behind her with a pair of handcuffs, which she quickly locked in place. With an evil grin, the hunter jabbed Edna in the arm with a needle.

Edna exclaimed, “Oh, shit, we’re dead!” as McDonald’s accomplice jabbed Pearl’s arm.

Feeling suddenly light-headed, Pearl watched Edna collapse on the sidewalk moments before everything went black.

 

 

Pearl woke abruptly, instantly aware that thick silver chains bound her to a chair. Wide eyed, she glanced around. A small gray room. No windows. A single door.

There was no sign of Edna.

Lou McDonald stood before her wielding a slender, long-bladed dagger. “I want answers,” McDonald said. “And I want them now.”

“Where’s Edna?”

“I’m asking the questions here. I want to know Mara’s whereabouts.”

“Mara?”

“Answer me!”

Pearl hissed as the silver blade opened a thin gash in her left arm. Blood flowed in the wake of the blade.

“I can do this all night,” McDonald said. “And all day tomorrow.”

“You’d torture me while I’m at rest?”

“You bet. Where is she?”

Pearl frowned. “You found us. Why can’t you find her?”

“If I could, I would. I think she’s using some kind of ancient vamp glamour to shield herself from hunters.” The blade scraped down Pearl’s right arm. “Now, where is she?”

Fighting the urge to cry out, Pearl sniffed the air. Edna was nearby. Pearl tugged against the chains, but there was no escaping bonds made of silver.

“Just tell me what I want to know and I’ll make your death quick and painless. Otherwise . . .” The blade opened another gash in Pearl’s left arm. The wounds, which normally would have healed almost instantly, were slow to close. Dark red blood dripped onto the cement floor. The smell of it filled the air.

“I’ll tell you,” Pearl said, stalling for time, although she couldn’t think of anyone who would come to their rescue. “But only if you tell me why you’re after her.”

“Are you as stupid as you look? Why do you think I want her? She’s the most powerful vampire on the planet. I’m a hunter. You do the math.”

“She’ll eat you for breakfast.”

McDonald dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand. “Maybe. But I’m about to retire and . . .”

“And you want to take down the biggest, baddest vampire of them all before you do?”

“That’s right. One of us is going down.” McDonald tossed the blood-stained dagger from one hand to the other. “Whatever happened to her son? Is he still alive?”

Pearl glanced past McDonald, her eyes widening. “Oh, yes,” she said, smiling. “He’s very much alive. He—”

“Shit!” McDonald whirled around, the dagger tightly clutched in her fist as she came face-to-face with Mara’s son.

“Are you looking for me?” he asked mildly.

“Actually, I’m looking for your mother.”

“If you’d found her instead of me, you’d be dead now.”

“Where’s Edna?” Pearl asked.

Derek’s gaze remained on McDonald while he answered the other vampire. “She’s feeding.”

“My sister!” Lou McDonald’s eyes went wide. “Where’s Cindy? What have you done to her?”

“I didn’t do anything to her. I simply compelled her to free her prisoner.”

“Edna.” Pearl’s brow furrowed thoughtfully. “Of course! She brought you here, didn’t she?”

Derek nodded. “I heard her call for help.”

“And you came!” Pearl’s smile was radiant. “Thank you, dear!”

“Turn Pearl loose,” Derek said.

McDonald lifted her chin defiantly. “And if I refuse?”

“You can waste time arguing, or you can let her go. It might not be too late to save your sister. But you’re not getting out of this room until Pearl’s free. The choice is yours.”

McDonald’s face went white as a harsh wail reverberated from the adjoining room. Glaring at Derek, she unlocked the chains binding the vampire, then ran out of the room screaming her sister’s name.

“Thank you again, dear boy.” Pearl’s nostrils flared as the scent of freshly spilled blood wafted through the air. “Now, if you’ll excuse me . . .”

“Enjoy your meal,” he said, smiling, though he thought McDonald’s blood would be sour, indeed.

Mara stared at her son in wide-eyed disbelief. “You saved their lives?”

Derek shrugged. “It seemed like the right thing to do.”

“I don’t understand you. Why would you help those two old bats after what they did to your father? What they did to you?”

“Hey, it’s done. Let it go.”

“So Lou McDonald and her sister are dead?”

“For all I know, Edna and Pearl could be dead, too. I didn’t hang around to find out.”

“You would know if Edna had been destroyed.”

He shrugged. “Then she’s alive. Besides, didn’t you say you wanted to keep the two of them around for a while?”

“Yes, I did say that.” Mara shook her head. “I can’t believe those two meddlesome creatures took out the notorious McDonald sisters.”

“They had a little help, Ma,” Derek reminded her. “It’s me you should be thanking.”

“Thank you,” she said, her voice sugary sweet.

“That hunter wanted you awfully bad. I overheard her saying she was going to take you out or die trying.”

“Well, she should be happy then,” Mara said, grinning. “I just hope Edna and Pearl cleaned up the mess.”

 

 

Derek stalked the dark streets of Hollywood. His hunger, stirred to life by the scent of the hunter’s blood, rode him hard. He had no doubt that the two hunters were dead. Their screams had followed him out of the building. He had no sympathy for them. They came looking to destroy his mother and had met their own deaths, instead. Sometimes the good guys won. Sometimes they lost—although in this case, he wasn’t sure there were any good guys.

The scent of prey drew him toward an unsavory part of town where he found two drunks fighting over a bottle of rotgut. One of them was bleeding from a shallow cut across his cheek. Closing his eyes, Derek took a deep breath, hands clenching as the smell fueled his hellish thirst.

He could have killed both of the transients in an instant, but he was spoiling for a fight. With a cry, he waded into the battle. As expected, the two men quickly turned on him, their own disagreement forgotten in the face of a new threat.

Restraining his preternatural power, Derek fought both of them, relishing their punishing fists, although the pain was negligible. He didn’t try to avoid their blows; instead, he welcomed them. He was a monster. It was what he deserved. Until one of the men pulled a knife from the inside of his boot.

The weapon changed the game. Infused with new courage, the armed man lunged at Derek as the second man flung himself onto Derek’s back. Derek hissed when the blade buried itself to the hilt in his chest. It wasn’t a fatal strike, but it hurt like hell.

Snarling, Derek jerked the blade from his flesh and drove it into the man’s heart. The drunk reeled backward, then spiraled to the ground.

The man clinging to Derek’s back slid off and hit the street running.

Grunting with pain, Derek bent over the mortally wounded man.

He had never deliberately baited a human before. Never gone looking for a fight. Or enjoyed killing.

He glanced at the sky, wondering if his hunger and his anger had been sparked by the werewolf sleeping inside him.

Later, after disposing of the body, he wondered what Sheree would think if she could see him now, eyes burning, clothing splashed with blood.

Sheree. His need for her grew stronger with every passing hour.

What was she doing? His jaw clenched as he imagined her with other men—dancing, laughing, letting them steal a kiss or two. Did she ever think of him? Was she planning to come back to California, or had she decided to stay in Philadelphia and marry some puny mortal? He slammed his fist against a nearby wall. Why in hell had he let her go?

He strolled down Hollywood Boulevard, ignoring the come-ons of the streetwalkers, sidestepping a couple who’d had too much to drink.

How had he ever lived without Sheree? She had been away for a week and it seemed like years. He hadn’t realized just how empty his existence had been until she was no longer in it.

What would he do if she never came back?

 

 

Sheree smiled politely as an elderly man with snow-white hair asked her to dance. She would rather have refused, but since her parents were hosting the party, she was expected to dance with anyone who asked, and pretend she was having a good time.

She had been home for over two weeks, and it seemed like an eternity. Every day had been crammed with activities—an endless round of parties, dinners, charity auctions, and Sunday brunches. Ralph had proposed to her twice, Neil three times. And now her mother had ferreted out a new suitor, James van Horn, who made Ralph and Neil seem vastly appealing by comparison.

Waltzing around the floor with her elderly partner, Sheree decided she’d had enough. Tomorrow, she was booking a flight back to California. She missed her little house. She missed the California sunshine.

She missed Derek.

Relieved when the music ended, Sheree thanked her partner for the dance, and hastened out to the verandah for a few minutes alone.

She had never gotten around to telling her mother she was in love with Derek, but perhaps that was a good thing. Better to make sure he still wanted her before she said anything to her parents. One thing she knew for certain: she wanted him more than ever.

She gazed up at the sky. The moon would be full next week. Was he dreading it? Or anxious to confront his fears once and for all?

She whirled around at the sound of his voice, her heart fluttering with excitement at the thought that maybe he missed her so much, he had come after her.

But there was no one there.

 

 

It was late the next night when Sheree arrived at her home in California. She had intended to wait until after the full moon, but after hearing Derek’s voice in her mind last night, she couldn’t wait any longer. He needed her. She was sure of it.

She knew a moment of trepidation when she unlocked the front door, remembering all too clearly what had happened only a few short weeks ago.

Standing in the entryway, she cocked her head to one side, recalling how Derek had assured her there was no one in the house because it “felt empty.” She knew now he had probably used his vampire senses to ascertain there was no one there. A handy talent, no doubt, when people were hunting you. She tried to imagine what it would be like knowing people hated you enough to kill you just because you were different.

Turning on the lights, Sheree moved warily through the house, breathed a sigh of relief when the house was, indeed, empty. After leaving her suitcases in the bedroom, she slipped into her nightgown, then went downstairs to make a cup of tea. She would have to go grocery shopping tomorrow. She had emptied the refrigerator before she left. The cupboards were bare except for the basics.

Sheree carried her tea into the living room, then curled up on the sofa. Back home, she had been certain coming here was the right thing to do, but she was suddenly beset by doubts. Derek was a vampire. He slept during the day. He drank blood to survive. He could read her thoughts. He couldn’t give her children. He would never grow any older. His mother was a vampire, the oldest vampire in existence, and he belonged to a family of vampires. . . . What would they think of her? Would they accept her? Would she be safe among them?

Sheree sipped her tea, then put the cup aside. Then there was the whole werewolf thing. What if he turned into a werewolf and couldn’t control himself? Would he tear her to shreds?

She had come back determined to convince him they belonged together. But now she wondered if she was wrong. He couldn’t change what he was. If she wanted to be with him, she would have to accept his lifestyle, his family, the fact that her life would always be in danger. Most troubling of all was the knowledge that she would grow old and gray and he would be forever young and healthy.

Almost, she could hate him for that.

She was about to go to bed when the doorbell rang.

She froze for an instant; then, feeling like Little Red Riding Hood about to meet the Big Bad Wolf, she opened the door.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Derek asked gruffly.

“I’m glad to see you, too,” she retorted, her voice razor sharp.

He glanced up at the sky, his skin prickling. Five nights from now, the moon would be full.

“I know I should have waited,” she said, following his gaze, “but I couldn’t. You called to me last night, didn’t you?”

His gaze softened and the next thing she knew, she was in his arms. “How could I hear you when I was so far away?”

“I’ve tasted your blood.” He pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “I will always be able to find you, know your thoughts, and let you know mine.”

“So, you missed me?”

“You have no idea.” He held her close, his forehead pressed to hers. “I shouldn’t be here,” he rasped. “It’s dangerous for you, but I couldn’t stay away.”

“How did you know I was home?”

His hands moved restlessly up and down her back. “I could feel your nearness calling me.”

It was, she thought, romantic and creepy at the same time.

He lifted his head, his gaze searching hers. “You were having second thoughts before I got here.”

He had been reading her mind again. How would she ever get used to that? Was she to have no privacy at all?

“I’ve been going crazy without you,” he said quietly.

She looked into his eyes, eyes as gray as winter clouds, and mirrored in their depths she saw her own need, her own loneliness. His fears were there, too. Fear of the unknown. Fear that in a moment of weakness, he might lose control and attack her.

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “You’re afraid of me.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement of fact.

“I’m afraid
for
you,” she admitted. “But I’m not afraid
of
you. There’s a big difference.” Tugging on his hand, she led the way to the sofa and drew him down beside her.

He slipped his arm around her shoulders, and tucked her against his side.

Sheree snuggled against him. Was it possible to be both werewolf and vampire at the same time? What would it mean for the two of them if he changed into a werewolf and stayed that way?

“Is that what you’re worried about?” he asked.

“Derek, you’ve got to stop reading my mind! It isn’t fair.”

He brushed a kiss across the top of her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t help it.”

“What frightens you the most?”

“Turning into a beast with no control over my actions.”

“That would be frightening, but . . . well, you’re a vampire and you don’t go around ripping out throats and killing indiscriminately, so . . . maybe there’s nothing to worry about.”

“I guess it depends on whether or not I remember who I am.”

Sheree’s eyes widened. “I never thought of that.” With no memory of who he was, Derek would truly be a beast. “It’s only one night a month, right?”

“So they say.” But he could kill a hell of a lot of people in one night. “Sheree . . .” At times like this, he wished she could read his mind.

“What?” She looked up at him, her brow furrowed. And then she knew. “You’re worried, wondering if I’ll still love you if you become a werewolf. It doesn’t matter what you are, Derek. Werewolf or vampire, I’ll love you just the same.”

“Sheree.” Lowering his head, he claimed her lips with his, hoping she knew how much she meant to him, afraid that in spite of her brave words, he would do something to drive her away.

She moaned softly, her body molding to his. Her breasts felt warm and soft against his chest, her lips sweetly yielding. Her warmth, the scent of her desire, stirred his hunger. She let out a little gasp of pained surprise when one of his fangs nicked her tongue. The taste of her blood swamped his senses.

With a growl, he sprang to his feet and turned away from her.

“Derek, I’m okay.”

“I’m not.” When she started to rise, he barked, “Stay there!” He took several deep breaths, fighting the urge to bury his fangs in her throat. “It’s best if I go.”

“But . . .”

“There’s someone I need to talk to.”

“Will I see you tomorrow night?”

“No. Not until after the full moon.”

“But I just got here.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.” Reining in his hunger, he turned to face her. “It’s too dangerous, love. I can feel the wolf stirring inside. It isn’t safe for you to be near me right now. Or for me to be near you.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Heaven help us both, but I don’t think I can face this without knowing you’re here.”

“You won’t have to,” she promised, and hoped she wouldn’t live to regret it.

 

 

Edna looked up from the book she was reading. “Pearl,” she whispered hoarsely, “Derek’s here!”

Pearl glanced around as though she expected to see him in the room. “What do you think he wants?”

“I have no idea.” Edna swallowed hard. “Why don’t you answer the door and ask him.”

“You answer it!”

Edna laid her book aside and opened the door, just a crack. “What are you doing here?”

“I need your help.”

“You . . . need . . .
my
help?”

“That’s what I said. Mind if I come in?”

“Could I keep you out?”

“Probably not.”

Sighing fatalistically, Edna invited him in. “Please, sit down.” She gestured at the sofa, then resumed her seat.

Pearl smiled faintly.

“So, what do you want?”

“Mara says you know more about werewolves than anyone.”

“That’s true,” Edna said, unable to keep the pride out of her voice. “I’ve been studying them since before you were born.”