Now Comes the Night (4 page)

Damian stirred. A slight frown furrowed his brows then his dark eyes fluttered open. A faint trace of alarm registered for just an instant in his expression, and then it was gone again. His gaze, when it oriented on Conrad’s face, gave nothing away. “You’re awake already.”

Even mostly asleep, Damian still managed to keep the surprise from his voice. Conrad envied him his control and yet, at the same time, he could not resist the urge to try and shake it. He nodded. “I am.”

“Are you all right? Nothing’s happened has it?”

“No, everything’s fine.” Conrad gave the little gold ring a final flick. “I’ve merely been lying here for the past several minutes, watching as you slept and contemplating a most interesting question, one that’s only just occurred to me.”

“Really?” Damian eyed him curiously. “What question is that?”

“I’ve been wondering with what other piercings I might wish to see your body adorned.”

Damian raised one eyebrow. “As I recall, you said once you didn’t care for such things.”

Conrad shrugged. “I’m allowed to change my mind, aren’t I?”

A wry smile played across Damian’s lips. “Indeed. Who would dare try and stop you?” He lifted his hand from the pillow and caressed Conrad’s face. “So, might I ask what ideas you’ve come up with?”

In answer, Conrad let his hand trail slowly down the length of Damian’s torso, enjoying the way his muscles rippled in response. He wrapped his hand securely around Damian’s erection and smiled menacingly. “I was thinking…here perhaps.”

Damian’s eyes widened at the implication. A faint flush colored his cheeks. “You’re joking.”

“Why would you think that?” Conrad squeezed gently. The organ in question jerked lightly within his grasp. “You know I’ve always loved to see you wearing my mark. Just imagine it.” He drew his thumb in slow, lazy circles all around the slick crown then asked, “Well? What do you think of the idea?”

Damian grimaced faintly. “I think it’s not the kind of question one should decide after only several minutes contemplation.”

“And yet you’ve always been so impulsive. Are you sure, my dear? Because I think it could be the kind of question I could easily decide
for
you—and without the need for any additional contemplation.”

Damian’s eyes narrowed. He studied Conrad’s face, assessing him. “You’re feeling much better tonight, aren’t you?”

Conrad hesitated a moment before answering. “I’m feeling…good,” he said at last. Better than he’d been in a long while? Yes. Definitely. Better altogether? No, not yet. He still had a ways to go before he reached that point, and who knew if he ever would?

A smug, self-satisfied smile suffused Damian’s face. “So, I was right then. This
was
what you needed after all.”

Conrad sighed. He released Damian from his grip and gave up the attempt to tease him. There was no need to ask what Damian meant; “this” meant having Damian here in his bed day after day. It meant sharing his love, his strength, his passion, all the things Conrad had needed and missed for much too long. It also meant using Damian to blunt the knife-edge of the hunger with which Conrad usually awoke. It meant risking Damian’s life if the nightmares that had been plaguing Conrad returned, risking his health should Conrad’s venom prove to be too strong.

Conrad should have said no to the offer. He should have refused it every morning. Each time Damian had tried to climb into bed beside him he should have ordered him out. He should have stood his ground and sent him away. But, if he had, it might have been months before he arrived at the point he had today—waking up without the immediate urge to sink his teeth into someone’s neck and suck the life out of him.

“Yes,
caro
.” Conrad cupped Damian’s face in a gentle hand. He leaned in and brushed a tender kiss across his lover’s lips, then pulled back so he could look into Damian’s eyes as he said, “You were right, but you were also incredibly lucky. When I think of what could have happened, what I might have done to you…”

“Hush,
querido
.” Damian pressed his fingers to Conrad’s lips. “
Mi corazón,
you worry far too much. Nothing would have happened. You would not have hurt me—I know you would not. You would have stopped yourself in time.”

Conrad shook his head. Where did this blind faith in him come from? Certainly not from experience! “Damian…”

“No. No more talking. We’re both all right, aren’t we? That’s all that matters.” Damian pulled Conrad back against him, stilling his protests with a kiss and Conrad let him, reveling in the knowledge. Yes. They
were
all right. For now.

Conrad shoved the bed covers out of his way so that he could settle himself more fully on top of Damian. He kissed him again, tongue delving deeply, loving the way their bodies fit so perfectly against one another, wanting to taste all of him, to
own
all of him body and soul. His fingers found Damian’s wrists and pinned them to the bed above his head, imprisoning him. Hunger flared within Conrad, fueling the need, the desperate drive to possess Damian, to take everything he had to offer, to have him
now
. Damian whimpered softly, hips bucking as he writhed beneath Conrad’s weight. As their stiff cocks jostled and rubbed one another Conrad was shocked to discover that perhaps he hadn’t been merely teasing. Perhaps he really did want to see Damian pierced.

Not that he wanted to cause him pain. No, never that. But to know Damian was, once again, clearly and indisputably marked as belonging to Conrad… The idea was not without merit.

He was so entranced by the images dancing within his imagination—how it might look, how it might feel, how he might play with the piercing in ways that would drive Damian to ever greater heights of passion—that it took him a moment to realize Damian was attempting to get his attention.

Surprised, Conrad lifted his head to look at him. “
¿Caro?
”

“Conrad, I’ve been wondering, would you do something for me?” Damian’s voice was just the slightest bit breathless—that, along with his flushed face and swollen lips made it easy for Conrad to ignore the determined, slightly speculative gleam in his eyes, even though he did so at his peril.

Anything
. The word was right there, waiting to be said. Conrad held it back with an effort. Damian had to know that would be his answer in almost every case, unless the request was for something unreasonable. Which could only mean Damian was about to ask for something he knew Conrad would not want to do.

“It’s entirely possible.” Conrad released Damian’s wrists and sat up. “You know I would never refuse you without good cause. What is it you want this time?” He felt safe enough in asking. It could hardly be anything
too
terrible. He was mostly certain Damian had more sense than to choose a time like this to ask again for permission to divulge to the twins the details of their heritage, so that was not a worry. And, happily, he was even more certain Damian wasn’t about to ask him to let him go. So, really, what could he possibly want that Conrad would not be happy to oblige him in? Other than host another party. And, again, they’d only just had the last one a few weeks earlier, so it could hardly be that.

“I was hoping we could throw another party.”

Or, then again, perhaps it could. Conrad groaned. “Why? You know how I hate them.” He gazed wearily at his lover, already resigned to the tiresome conversation he knew was about to ensue. “What’s the occasion this time?” The last party Damian had talked him into giving had been for the twins’ birthday. They were still only celebrating that once a year, weren’t they?

Once upon a time, Conrad would not have been nearly as repulsed by the prospect. During the sixties, for example, he’d thrown parties nearly every week, although that had been an entirely different matter. For one thing, those had occurred while Armand had been in charge of running the household. Armand was nowhere near as stern a taskmaster as Damian. He’d never once insisted that Conrad need actually attend one of his own parties if he didn’t wish to do so. Of course, Armand had rarely ever “insisted” that Conrad do anything. He had other methods of coercion at his disposal, other means of making his point and getting his way. Sometimes, Conrad rather missed those.

In addition, those earlier parties had been utilitarian, a necessity. His children had needed a safe place in which to feed and, at the time, there had been very few other options open to them. Now there were the clubs that he and the other Heads of Households had instituted for their use. Or, for those who chose to stay closer to home, like Conrad himself for the most part, there was his excessively accommodating and very conveniently located household staff.

Damian propped himself up on his elbows. “I’m concerned, Conrad. We need to do something about the children. I thought a party would give them something to look forward to, maybe help them to socialize. Marc has stopped going to the clubs altogether, it seems. He now spends all his time brooding in that…in that place. The warehouse where…” Damian’s expression was bleak as he broke off, gesturing with a wave of his hand. “Well, you know.”

Conrad nodded sympathetically. The warehouse where Marc had been imprisoned and mutilated—yes, he knew. He, too, felt guilt over the fact he had not been able to prevent Marc’s injury and sorrow over the pain it had caused him. What he did not feel was grief. That was an emotion Conrad preferred to reserve for more serious tragedies. The life of a vampire was long and as such, it was bound to be filled with many small losses. If you grieved for all of them your tears would never dry. But that was a lesson best learned while one was still young.

He reached over and gently squeezed Damian’s hand. “I know you worry about the children. I do too. But the boy only just lost his eye a few weeks ago, my dear. It’s only natural that he would need some time to adjust to his condition. Perhaps he feels self-conscious and does not wish to socialize yet. Why should we force him to do so? Let him brood for a while longer, if that’s what he needs. I’m sure it won’t last forever.”

“I just think it would be better for him if he didn’t spend every night with no one for company but those ferals he’s adopted. Frankly, I’m not sure how he stands it. What is he even doing with them?”

“I admit, it does seem a bit perplexing.” Conrad had never been bothered by the ferals, no
Lamia Invitus
ever was. Most other vampires found feral vampires—those who were without nests or sires of their own—intensely aggravating. Usually, after spending no more than a few minutes in their presence they were ready to kill them. It was said that not even ferals themselves took any pleasure in the company of their own kind.

“I’m not
perplexed
by it, Conrad,” Damian snapped. “I’m troubled—and more than a bit. I can’t help but feel there’s some reason behind it, something he’s not telling us.”

Conrad shrugged. “I doubt he’s intentionally keeping secrets. He probably doesn’t know why he’s doing it himself. As for there being a reason behind it, yes, I’m quite sure you’re right. And I’m sure that reason is one that neither you nor I should find at all surprising.”

Damian’s eyes narrowed. “You’re saying it might have something to do with Marc being what he is. Is that what you’re suggesting?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. And, as I’ve told you before, we must be prepared for almost anything in that regard. The twins are still young. While they don’t yet appear noticeably different, for the most part, who can say what odd talents or proclivities they may develop in the next century or two?” It was for precisely this reason that Conrad had not been in a hurry to introduce the twins to his nest, or vampire society at large. Not that he had any intention of bringing
that
old argument up again.

Born vampires, like the twins, were so extremely rare that most vampires assumed them to be nothing more than a myth. Even Conrad, who had seen so much over the course of his very long lifetime, had believed it impossible they could actually exist. To the best of his knowledge—and his knowledge was usually very good—the twins were the first of their kind that the world had seen in at least a thousand years.

Strictly speaking, the world
hadn’t
seen them. Nor would it ever, if he had his way. Only he and Damian knew the twins for what they were. It was their job to keep them safe—and that meant keeping the truth of their nature an absolute secret for as long as they possibly could.

The legends concerning the unique abilities and unusual powers Marc and Julie might someday grow to wield still seemed preposterous to Conrad, too daunting and dangerous to be believed. If word of their existence became generally known, it would place them in even more danger. It would put the entire nest at terrible risk.

Damian pushed a hand through his hair. “Well. That is something to consider. Perhaps you’re right.”

Conrad frowned. “Yes, I’m sure that I am.” He was a little surprised that it still needed to be said.

“But, if that’s so, isn’t it just one more reason for us to try and get him to curb his odd behavior before it becomes any more noticeable? And the same goes for Julie as well.”

“Surely you’re not going to tell me there’s something wrong with Julie now too?” Conrad was tired of this conversation. He wished it to end. He was growing hungry and would need to feed soon. Discussing such disagreeable subjects was not at all how he’d planned on spending these next several minutes. He understood Damian’s concerns, but he had no desire to talk about them. Not now. “Never mind, I’m sure she’s fine. Let’s talk about something else. Or not talk at all. Yes, not talking would be even better, I think.”