Death Calls
Caridad Pineiro
Death Calls
Caridad Piñeiro
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To my editor, Stacy Boyd, who believed in this concept from the beginning and whose keen editorial sense has helped me grow as a writer.
Stacy—you are the best!
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Coming Next Month
Chapter 1
Like the phantom pain of a lost limb, the memory of Ryder’s bite lingered, reminding her of what he’d done. Reminding her that she’d begged for his violence.
There was no scar at her neck. No fresh wound, raw and bleeding. Instead, the pain was deep inside, as alive in her heart as the day two years ago when her lover had first revealed his vampire nature.
Before Ryder, she hadn’t allowed herself to feel anything for anyone, not since her father’s death. That she had lowered her defenses and made love with him only to find out he was a vampire had awoken the rage and anger she had thought under control. Dealing with it had been difficult.
Now, it was almost as painful to acknowledge where their two-year love affair had led them—to the wreckage of her carefully reconstructed life.
Diana grabbed her shot of Cuervo and downed it in one gulp. Then she immediately signaled the bartender for another. But she only stared at the drink in front of her, fingers splayed on the scarred black surface of the bar.
The Blood Bank was a favorite haunt of those in Manhattan’s vampire subculture and a great place if one wanted to offer themself up as a treat. But after the day she’d had she only wanted to lick her wounds and hopefully not add any fresh ones.
She didn’t want anyone to put the bite on her. Not even Ryder. Not again. Okay, maybe not again, she confessed when the heated recollection of their passion replaced the warmth of the tequila.
A reaction that reminded her all too vividly of why she was here, bleeding on the inside and just barely in control on the surface. A combination sure to bring trouble.
By anyone else’s standards, it had been an ordinary day. Diana had met her best friend outside a favorite Italian restaurant, a place Diana hadn’t been to in months. When, she’d wondered, had she stopped going to her normal haunts and started going almost exclusively to Ryder’s?
She’d dismissed the thought upon seeing Sylvia. There had been something different about her friend. She’d seemed positively radiant. Sylvia’s coffee-brown eyes had glittered with joy and her smooth olive skin bore a vibrant blush. Eventually, Diana noticed the swell of belly. Her friend not only confirmed the happy news, but asked Diana to be godmother to the baby.
Diana had been happy for Sylvia. At least, that’s what she’d told herself initially.
Until Sylvia glanced down at her belly and rubbed her hand lovingly over it. That motherly gesture drove an arrow of pain deep into the middle of Diana’s heart.
Her doubts about Ryder, about their relationship, overwhelmed her. Doubts, that if she was honest, she’d been having for months, since her brother had announced the coming birth of his own child. Diana would never know the sensation of a baby growing and moving within her, of seeing herself fecund with child. At least, not if she stayed with Ryder. He was a vampire, undead. He couldn’t bestow life.
“Are you going to put that drink out of its misery or let it sit there all night?”
Brought back to the present, Diana glared at Foley, the owner of the Blood Bank, as he perched on the bar stool next to her. As always, he was lethally elegant in a fitted black suit that punched up the paleness of his skin and hair and elongated the already sparse lines of his body. With a shrug meant to dissuade his attention, she replied, “I didn’t know an inanimate object could feel misery.”
The vampire’s clear gray eyes darkened. With one finger, he traced her heart-and-dagger tattoo through the fabric of her suit. “They do when they could be in something as delicious as you.”
Diana snared his hand and bent his thumb back at an awkward angle. “Don’t go there.”
Foley’s grin didn’t waver, although she knew that even with his vampire strength, she was likely causing some hurt. “Did you get that tattoo to prove how tough you are, Special Agent Reyes?”
She laughed harshly and increased the tension of her hold. “I got it to remind me of the pain.”
“You enjoy it, don’t you?” he asked. A sly look slid into his gaze, hinting that he rather liked the hurt she was currently inflicting on him. She let him go.
“I enjoy dishing it out.”
In truth, the tattoo was a reminder not to act impulsively, a trait she had been accused of more than once. After a night of too much tequila, she’d gotten the tattoo to remind herself to guard against the pain she had suffered after losing her boyfriend. Only later did she realize that the knot of sorrow within her had been about the death of her father and all that she believed in. Justice. Honor. Happiness. Herself.
Sitting here, drowning her misery in tequila now, as much as she’d done at nineteen, warned her she was in danger of losing herself again as she had nearly a decade earlier when her dad had died.
“Bad day at the office, Special Agent Reyes?” Foley waved for a drink—a shot glass filled with liquid the color of ripe, succulent cherries. Freshly drawn blood.
“A nouveau Italian straight from Mulberry Street.” He held the glass up in a toast.
Despite her earlier recollection about where one too many tequilas might lead her, she hoped a few more would create the right degree of numb. Help her forget about babies, husbands and houses filled with family—the kinds of things Ryder could never give her. She clicked her glass with Foley’s and bolted back the Cuervo. The sting made her wince as the liquor burned its way down her throat. Slamming the glass onto the bar, she motioned for another.
“Extremely bad, I guess,” Foley said, which only earned him a sidelong glance. He was sipping his drink slowly, savoring the grisly libation.
“What do you want?”
Foley leaned closer. So close that his chilled breath bathed the side of her face. With it came the metallic smell of blood. She almost gagged.
“Just to chat with a friend.”
She gave him a forceful nudge in the ribs to remind him he had invaded her space. “You and I aren’t—”
“Pals? Chums? Aren’t you and Ryder…friendly?”
Ignoring him, she laid her hands on the bar’s rough surface. Beneath her palms she registered the bumps, dents and gouges worn into it by misuse, by the violence for which the Blood Bank was known in the undead world. Again the phantom pain came to her neck and she inched her hand upward.
Foley ran the icy pad of his finger over the spot of the long-healed and invisible injury in a caress that made her skin crawl. “He’s bitten you, hasn’t he? More than once. And not just to feed. Yum.” He smacked his lips with pleasure.
She yanked away from his touch, angry with his intrusion into her private life. “So what? Taking a survey?”
“With each bite his control over you grows. Your need for him intensifies until…”
You beg him to take you. To make you like him.
Which scared the shit out of her.
She prided herself on having learned control a long time ago. In the year following her father’s death, she had lost her restraint and her identity in the ambience of places like the Blood Bank. It was only after waking one morning facedown in vomit, her younger brother passed out beside her, that she realized she was on the road to oblivion and taking her brother with her. She had mustered the strength to deal with her pain, to restore her sense of self and honor. It had taken her a long time to control her rebellion, to choose what she knew was right.
Lately she seemed to have less control over her emotions, over her choices, and worse, she didn’t have a clue as to whether her relationship with Ryder was right or wrong. Which only partially explained why she found herself here, in a bar catering to the undead. Sharing a drink with a vampire who would drain her, given the right circumstances. Avoiding the lover who made her plead for a passion so intense….
That was the one thing she knew in her uncertain life. If Ryder was a drug, she was a Ryder junkie.
When she had first met him, Ryder had been living his life as humanly as possible. The attraction between them had been that of woman to man, man to woman. She hadn’t known then just how hard it was for Ryder to control the beast within him. Or, worse, how much she would come to like the demon and what it made her feel.
The spot at her neck tingled again. When Ryder had been mostly human, she could tell herself their affair was right, but now that he was finally exploring his vampire powers, now that he was becoming less human she could no longer avoid the truth.
The change hadn’t happened overnight. It was only in the past year or so, when they’d become more involved with Manhattan’s other vampires, that Ryder had begun to change. She hadn’t noticed at first, but recently it had become impossible to ignore. Ryder was darker and more powerful than she could have imagined. Worse yet, she liked his transformation. Too much.
And that was what troubled her the most—how much she wanted to share in his darkness, how much she craved the intense emotions only he could rouse. Was she losing herself to him?
Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she half slipped off the high stool and tossed some money on the bar. Foley grabbed her arm, but she tugged free of his grasp. “Don’t.”
“Afraid?” His feral smile held a hint of fang.
But Foley’s toothy smile didn’t scare her. It only served to remind her of the vampire underworld that called to the darkness within her. A darkness she had thought she’d left behind after her father’s death. One she didn’t want to revisit.
“Screw you, Foley.”
She walked away, chased by his laughter. Or maybe it was Foley calling, “Change your mind?” that pushed her onward.
She needed to be away from the Blood Bank and any other reminders of the surreal state of her life. She took a long walk before flagging a cab to go home.
Home. She needed to go home. Grab a pint of ice cream on the way and settle down to try to find some inner peace. Today had been just too normal. Lunch with a friend. The happiness and joy of Sylvia’s coming child. The yearning for the contentment home and family could provide.
Even before Ryder, Diana hadn’t thought much about that kind of life. Definitely not since becoming an FBI agent. Her career had taken up so much of her energy that she hadn’t considered that at some point she might want…more.
But now she couldn’t refute the possibilities and impossibilities. She had at one time thought she’d have a normal life. A husband and kids. Growing old. Dying. Everyday stuff.
She didn’t want a life of the abnormal—one hidden beneath the surface of the city. She had existed like that once before and it had nearly consumed her.
Just as Ryder and his darkness would consume her if she didn’t find a way to let go.
Monday was their night. His club was closed then, which meant they usually had the leisure of a long dinner, possibly a movie. Mortal things. Things that people who were dating regularly did.
Like making love. A maybe-not-so-mortal thing with them.
Was that why she had called tonight to tell him she didn’t want to see him?
She’d been that blunt. Diana wasn’t the kind of woman who made excuses.
And he wasn’t the kind of man to…
But he wasn’t a man anymore, Ryder reminded himself as he perused the streets from the balcony of his apartment. Across the East River, the large red Pepsi and Silvercup Studio signs glowed. The erratic string of lights from the bridge and Roosevelt Island tramway twinkled. In the water there were a few scattered boats, not many.
It was late, although in the city that never slept, the activity was incessant.
Where was Diana in all that activity? Holed up in her office working on a case? Asleep in her apartment? Or somewhere else?
The last possibility bothered him more than he liked to admit. He had never considered himself a jealous man. But then again, he had never met a woman as complex and independent and as deliciously dark as Diana.
Ryder grew hard and his fangs elongated as he recalled their last bout of sex. She’d moved beneath him, pleading for his possession. For his bite.
Her blood had been sweet, spicing his mouth as she’d cried out her completion. He had become nearly feral with feeding from her body as he’d driven into her. Her blood, providing him…so much life.
He growled and shook his head to chase away the demon, the animal that had almost not let up the other night. He had come close to draining her. Had nearly made her like him, because she called to him like nothing else in his undead life. Now, he couldn’t just stand there, wondering.
He sprung over the ledge of his balcony like a gymnast vaulting over a horse and landed on the balcony of the floor below, where Melissa—the doctor whose family legacy was to care for his vampire health and serve as his keeper—now lived with her husband.
He caught but a glimpse of her, belly large with child. She stroked a hand across her extended abdomen with a beatific smile on her face. A moment later, her husband—Diana’s younger brother—Sebastian walked into the room, a similar grin on his features as he laid his hand over hers.
Ryder couldn’t linger. The scene was too painful a reminder of the life taken from him so long ago. Of the life he would be stealing from Diana if they continued their relationship.
Or if he sired her.
After biting her the other night, he had been forced to acknowledge just how badly he wanted her with him forever. After more than a century of avoiding humans and their emotions, he had allowed himself to care for her. She had restored him. Made him alive again. Losing her…
He knew pain. For close to one hundred and forty-three years, he had lived with the anguish of loved ones dying, of having everything familiar change. His response had been to shut himself off from other vampires, from humanity. From love.
But now, because of Diana, he was no longer alone. Would he be able to handle the pain of her death? Unsettled by those thoughts, he leaped down, floor by floor, to the street below. Once there, he hesitated, uncertain of where he would go. Unsure that it was wise to give in to the beast who longed for more than just seeing her.
For so long he had controlled his vampire nature and striven for a human life, the kind of life he had lost during the Civil War.
He didn’t really understand how the sheltered existence he had so carefully built had become filled not only with Diana, but with an assortment of people and vampires who demanded he acknowledge what he was.
After despising his vampire nature for more than a century, he hadn’t expected ever to enjoy the power and passion and strength that releasing the demon would bring. For so long, he had kept the beast at bay, afraid of what it could do. He had seen the aftermath of vampire violence against others, against himself.
A physician before a supposed act of kindness had turned him, he had devoted his life to healing, to saving others. He hated that the demon within was the total antithesis of what he had been—a good man.
But over the past two years, he had discovered that he could use his vampire powers for good—if he could control the violence that accompanied the demon. The violence it was becoming harder and harder to restrain around Diana. Was it because the beast didn’t want to lose a mate after so much time alone?
Tonight the demon screamed for him to let it loose. Reluctantly he did. With a quick look to make sure no one was watching, he transformed. Long fangs erupted from his mouth and blood surged through his veins. All around him, colors and noises became more vibrant. Sounds sharper, almost painful to his heightened hearing. Smells, all those luscious smells, ripe around him. And beneath it all, the awareness of the humans close at hand, throbbing with life.
Speed beyond that of a mortal drove him. Where, he didn’t quite know. He just reveled in the freedom of the night. The piercing glow of the moon and stars lit his way. The chill of the night air flew against his heated skin. As he brushed past one human on a side street, the scent filled his nostrils. The thunder of heartbeat and blood called to him. Sweet blood, pulsing.
Ryder badly wanted a taste. He imagined sinking his fangs through fragile skin before his mortal side rose up, reining in the vampire and urging him to a nearby rooftop. Hurtling from one edifice to the next, he reached an old and narrow cobblestone alley in Tribeca. The Blood Bank.
Hunger gnawed at his stomach.
Ryder stared at the entrance to the club. He didn’t normally frequent the place, not much caring for Foley, the owner, or for the other vampires who so blithely indulged their baser instincts there, without a care. Without conscience. Totally unlike the vampires he had befriended in the past year. They tried to live nearly human lives. They also refused to feed from humans and didn’t sire others like themselves. At least, they usually didn’t.
Ryder had learned from his new friends that despite their best intentions, sometimes the beast won out. Their experience had confirmed what he’d already known—balancing his mortal and demon sides required dedicated effort.
So now here he was, the pit of his stomach clenching at the thought of fresh blood. Saliva pooled in his mouth like that of a hungry man sitting at a feast. Shaking his head, he took a deep breath to quell the demon’s urges—and smelled her.
Diana.
She had either been nearby recently or was still close. Inhaling sharply, he picked up her scent and threw himself over the ledge of the building. He landed on his feet as quietly and gracefully as a panther on the prowl.
Her smell grew stronger at ground level. Ryder followed it to the door of the club, flashed some fang to get past the bouncer and hurried within, eager for even a glimpse.
She had made her feelings known, but one night away from her…was like an eternity.
In the stifling lifeless air of the club, Diana’s smell strengthened and he followed it to the bar. She sat with Foley, letting the vampire lean toward her, touch her.
Ryder fisted his hands, barely controlling the desire to rip Foley’s finger off.
With perverse satisfaction, he smiled as Diana did some damage of her own, but Foley, sick animal that he was, kind of liked it. So do you, his inner voice rebuked. You like the violence she hides at her core.
Anger barely subdued, he stepped into the shadows. The noise and music were too loud and uneven for him to make out their discussion. Interminably long minutes passed before Diana left.
Ryder hesitated, debating whether to follow Diana or to beat Foley into monster mash. First, because the vampire had touched Diana. Second, because Ryder had never liked Foley. He was everything Ryder hated and never wanted to be: a hedonistic animal, devoid of any mortal sensibilities.
And for some reason, Diana had ditched him for the undead cad.
Ryder’s human side urged him to curb his resentment. After all, she had left the bar alone and rebuffed Foley’s sole advance. But the demon…The demon damn well wanted some satisfaction.
Satisfaction that words wouldn’t provide.
Chapter 2
She was finally home.
Elation swept through Ryder as he stood on her fire escape. He waited at her window needing to see her. All he could think about was her, about being with her again—in spite of the withdrawal and anger he sensed from her. Those emotions screamed for his acknowledgment. She was angry because he was visiting. Uninvited.
From her bedroom door, she headed straight for the window, as if aware he was there.
Slipping over the edge of the fire escape, he plummeted a few stories before grabbing the railing to break his fall. It jangled loudly as it bore the brunt of his weight. He quickly eased closer to the building and its shadows so he would be hidden. He soon heard the grate of the lock, the slight groan of recalcitrant metal as she opened the window. Then he smelled her. He breathed in deeply, trapping her essence within him. It was food for his senses, instantly bringing his body to painful life.
Not for the first time, he conceded that he liked certain abilities given to him by his vampirism. The ones that let him smell her and see her and, lately, reach into her mind to share his thoughts. She had allowed that new gift, although he knew she was uncomfortable with the invasion. She was, after all, a woman used to being in total control.
Was that why she was running from him?
He climbed onto the railing and, bunching the muscles of his legs, leaped up three stories to her window. He landed nearly silently and smiled to himself, pleased with how his skills were improving.
Now, he intended to make his presence known.
Ryder was here.
Damn him. It was bad enough he haunted her every thought and made her need him in ways she didn’t want to need anyone. It was even worse that he refused to honor her one simple request for a night away from him. A night to try to forget what he made her feel so she could gain some peace of mind, if only for a moment.
You can never forget me, she heard inside her head.
Really? And could you forget me? she questioned angrily.
Never.
Maybe a little mental and physical anguish of his own would drive the point home: their relationship had taken a wrong turn. The reality she had confronted earlier—that she wanted a normal life—was impossible if she continued on this path. Ryder could never give her that kind of existence.
She faced the window and yanked off her suit jacket. Beneath the jacket, her holster securely cradled her Glock. She slipped it off, checked to make sure the safety was on and tucked the holster and gun into the drawer of her bedside table.
A gun would be no protection against Ryder. Especially when she hadn’t loaded it with the special silver bullets she’d had made for when she went out on a vampire-related problem.
Do you really think you need to protect yourself against me?
No, but you might need to protect yourself, querido.
His uneasy chuckle carried through the open window of her bedroom.
Your amusement will stop soon enough.
Silence followed her threat.
Diana began to disrobe, a slow striptease as she slipped free each button of her serviceable white shirt, revealing the lacy white bra beneath. She toed off her ankle-high boots, and kicked aside her pants. Do you like what you see?
A strangled laugh was his answer, coupled with, I haven’t seen enough to make up my mind.
She smiled. There was something…exciting about mentally seducing a vampire who was hidden in shadow.
She had experienced this kind of nasty excitement after her father’s death. The rush of losing all restraint. The surrender to doing whatever you wanted, even though you knew it was wrong. Her reckless nature had embraced the uncivilized, the raw need that had never really surrendered to her control.
As for her earlier decision not to see Ryder…It fled in the wake of her rising desire.
Diana shrugged her shoulders and her blouse dropped to the floor. Reaching up, she undid the front clasp of her bra.
His rough groan caressed her psyche. And then a shadow shifted on the fire escape. Ryder’s shadow.
Staring straight at him, she parted the bra and let it fall. She stood there, expectant. Her pulse racing.
Her earlier thoughts about needing something more normal—more controlled—reared up, telling her that she should ask him to leave. She had proved her point, reminding him that she had power, but her determination failed her.
I want you to touch me, she told him.
But he stayed on the fire escape, exerting a self-control she couldn’t muster.
Closing her eyes to block out the sight of his silhouette, she cupped her breasts and ran her thumbs across her nipples. Her body grew damp and tense with rising need. With want of his hands and mouth and…his bite.
Dios, but she couldn’t forget how the demon made her feel.
Ryder.
A thud forced her eyes open. He stood by the window, dressed in black, breathing roughly, fists balled at his sides. His nearly black hair, long and tousled, hung to his shoulders. The goatee surrounding his mouth…
She imagined how that would feel on her skin and then had little time to wait as he stalked over, dropped to his knees and took one aching nipple into his mouth.
She moaned and dug her hands into the waves of his thick hair.
“I’ll take it that you like that.” Despite his chuckle, a hard edge marked his voice.
As conflicted as she might be about their future, it was impossible to deny that, at least right now, she wanted him, no matter what. No matter that by the wanting, she lost a piece of herself.
The inky locks of his hair were a shock of darkness against the pale creaminess of his skin and her own olive coloring. The contrast made her ache inside as her excitement escalated. Whenever he was near, her senses were on overload, with everything more clear and alive. More demanding.
“I want you.” His brown-eyed gaze was so intense it made her insides quiver.
“As much as I want you—”
“You’ve been doubting the wisdom of this. I know. I felt it…. You didn’t want me here tonight, did you?”
“No.” But she raked her hands through his hair, the silk of the longer strands alive in her hands. He had let it grow since she had first met him.
“I know it scares you—the need. But don’t you think I need you as badly? Or can’t vampires need?” He once again tortured her by running the soft bristle of his beard across her nipples. But that wasn’t her undoing. It was the confusion and pain that laced his words. Confusion much like she was feeling. Pain so deep her heart faltered from it.
“I care for you, only…Foley says that each bite—”
“I won’t bite again,” he said. Not unless you ask me to.
“I won’t ask again. I can’t lose myself like this. I can’t stay with—”
“Don’t push me away, darlin’. I know you’re scared, but I am, too. In all my life, you’re the only woman I’ve ever…”
Ryder didn’t finish. Instead he buried his head against her midsection and wrapped his arms tight around her like a supplicant embracing his reason for being. Then he shocked her by kissing the scar along her ribs—a product of the drive-by shooting that had killed her father.
Diana closed her eyes against the sudden threat of tears and the constriction that closed her throat. She cradled his head and stroked his hair, trying to ease his pain. Trying to curb her own.
She might tell herself that she was afraid of what was happening with them. Of how he invaded her senses and her mind. She might even delude herself into believing that she could make love to him tonight or any other night and walk away whenever she wanted. But in her heart, she suspected that what she felt for him she would never feel for anyone else.
She wasn’t sure she could live with that, but she couldn’t deny him, either.
She made the next move. She parted the fine black linen to reveal his chest. Nothing marred the pale expanse of his skin. If anything, his muscles were more defined than when they’d first met. His body leaner, more…powerful. The energy seemed to pour off him, calling to her.
She laid her hand above his heart. It beat fast and a little erratic. She wanted to believe its hurried rhythm came from her touch.
“I don’t regret…us,” she whispered. Funny, but it was the truth despite her doubts. He was her damnation and her salvation.
“Let’s not talk about this now. The night is short and…I don’t want to spend it…”
Burying her head against his chest, she wrapped her arms around him. Her embrace shook loose something inside of him.
He needed to make it impossible for her to deny that this was real, no matter how many doubts both of them now seemed to be having.
It was sweet torture, the feel of her breasts skimming his chest. Her warmth slowly worked its way into the cold of his body. The heat of her passion drove the chill from his skin.
She tugged him toward her bed. “This is what you want, isn’t it?”
She wore her false bravado face. Funny how he could recognize it so easily. Funny how he wanted to drive the fear from her until she truly welcomed him into her bed. Invited him into her heart.
“Can you deny it’s what you want, as well?” he said.
She couldn’t lie to herself. She needed more of him. She always needed more even if she refused to give a name to that desire. Even as she wondered if it was a result of some vampire head game, much as Foley had suggested.
Ask me to touch you, he said.
Why?
His demanding reply came swiftly. Because I need you to want me as much as I want you.
“Dios, Ryder. I need you.”
Slowly, way too slowly, he lowered his hand until it rested on top of the nest of curls between her legs. She pressed her hips up, urging him on. He breached the edge of her panties and unerringly found her center.
Beneath his fingers, Ryder experienced the pull of her. The scent of her arousal perfumed the air, so strong that the vampire within begged for a taste. He had lost the battle last time. He wouldn’t allow it to happen tonight. If the animal came…she might hate him—or herself—for surrendering to the demon.
He dropped a trail of kisses along her body. She opened her legs, knowing his intent and welcoming it. He slipped between her legs, brought his mouth to her sensitive nub.
Her hips arched in acceptance.
Her wetness—slick against him—and the smell of her…the heat…He groaned and she held his head to her.
He lost the battle.
The change surged over him. It was almost too much. The smell of their sexual musk. Her racing pulse reverberating in his ears. Her nether lips, wet and flush with blood. The demon imagined feeding there, at her most private of places.
He gasped at the roiling passion making his loins ache and looked up at her with his vampire face. Fangs exposed. Eyes glowing. Skin flushed and warm.
Diana stared at him. His arms were braced at her sides, shaking. Shoulders heaving from the force of his breaths. His rough, harsh pants reminded her of a lion at a zoo, caged. The human in him was barely keeping the animal behind bars.
In her mind, suddenly, she saw herself as he did. Her breathing. Sharp little pants. His teeth, sinking into her swollen flesh. Blood, rich with life. Passion. Flowing through both of them. Charging them. Her strangled cry of pain followed by pleasure that would rob her of herself.
She nearly climaxed from the images. The vampire in Ryder wanted her to desire his bite, so he could do as he wished. So he could control her as Foley had warned.
She shook away those thoughts and with years of self-defense skills, reversed their positions. She drove down onto him before he could continue messing with her mind. With her heart. Riding him to slake the burn, to draw out the human, to make him Ryder again and not the beast.
As she locked her gaze with his and moved on him, the demon fled. Ryder’s eyes became their intense dark brown once more, losing their demony glow. Only his fangs remained, as if he couldn’t muster that last little bit of command.
“I won’t bite again,” Ryder promised.
Long minutes passed before she finally answered, “I know.”
Without waiting for more assurance he flexed his hips and shifted upward, bringing her to the edge.
She followed his growl of release with her own cry of completion. After he cradled her in his arms. But earlier conflicts and fears rose up faster than the passion that had overwhelmed them.
When she had first met Ryder, she had sensed that he was a loner. A man who had suffered great loss and somehow endured. She understood such loss and the strength it took to overcome it. Like Ryder, she carried scars within her that hadn’t healed.
Back then she’d thought that two injured people didn’t bode well for a happy ending. And now, after tonight, she realized that continuing her life with Ryder…
“I’m not sure this is a good idea.”
A tremor ripped through his body again. He snatched up the clothes strewn across the floor and dressed, his movements stiff. Irate.
“Ryder?” She heard fear and indecision in her own voice. And an indefinable something…caring, possibly love. She was too confused to know anymore.
He didn’t answer. So she provided her own.
“I need some time.”
A barely perceptible nod of his head acknowledged her request before he returned to her open window and fled into the night.
Chapter 3
The alarm beeped furiously. Diana half turned and shut off the noise. She had been awake for some time.
Was it her imagination or could she still smell him on her pillow?
It was barely 6:00 a.m., but she tossed aside the covers and rolled out of bed. The barest hint of red in the morning sky promised a clear day ahead. She would have time for a quick run before work.
Work, where things over the last two weeks had become routine. Normal. As they had been before Ryder.
A load of cases waited for her to profile. Two others were actively being investigated. Later that day, she had a much-anticipated lunch date with her FBI partner. Afterward, if she didn’t get hung up too late with her active cases, she’d call Sylvia for a girl’s night. It had been too long since they’d had one. Their last lunch together had reminded her just how much she missed seeing her friend.
Just as having dinner the other night with her brother Sebastian and his wife, Melissa, had demonstrated how removed she had become from her family. For years she and Sebastian had shared an apartment and they had always been close. After the death of their father, grief had united them even more strongly. But Sebastian’s marriage to Melissa had complicated things, Melissa being Ryder’s keeper and all.
Their recent carefree dinner, however, made it clear that whatever happened between Diana and Ryder would have little impact on her relationship with her brother. She’d had a wonderful time and had even gotten to feel the baby move.
Now, she shifted her hand downward, laid it over the flat, almost concave plane of her abdomen. Imagined a baby within. Alive. Its tiny heart fluttering beneath the palm of her hand. Growing and being born. Suckling at her breast.
In her mind’s eye, the baby had Ryder’s dark eyes and hair, but she forced that impossible thought away. Instead she remembered how her little niece or nephew had rolled beneath her palm. Sebastian had smiled at her reaction, looking happier than she had ever seen him.
Things were working out for him. He was all right.
Just as she was beginning to believe everything would be all right for her one day. The weeks away from Ryder had been hard, but with each day that passed, with each day of a human routine, she felt her control returning.
Each day brought more lightness to her spirit, something she hadn’t felt in…forever.
She could imagine soon being back to a place where her life seemed in order. Where she could enjoy her friends and family. A good place.
Though more often then she cared to admit, Ryder slipped into her thoughts. Strange as it was, her life with him had in some ways made her believe anything was possible. But the unpredictability had kept her constantly on the edge. An edge that had grown difficult to walk.
Without him, however, a bit of emptiness existed that none of the routines of her day managed to fill. Routines that had, at one time, sustained her.
She told herself she just needed to relearn balance, the yin and yang of things. And that couldn’t happen in only a couple of weeks. It would take time. Something Ryder had plenty of, while she…Her time was finite. Unless she gave in to the call of the demon.
She drove that thought viciously away.
She knew how hard life was for Ryder and his vampire friends. How they battled to contain the demon’s desire for domination. How they suffered over and over again from the pain of who they had become, of losing those they loved.
Her father’s death had taught Diana what it was to live with that kind of pain. She couldn’t imagine living with it for eternity. She needed the everyday human world she had been struggling to reenter these past few weeks.
The cell phone on her nightstand vibrated. As she picked up the phone, the Caller ID indicated it was her friend, N.Y.P.D. Detective Peter Daly.
Whatever Peter had to say at this early hour couldn’t be good.
“You’re making a big mistake.”
The sound of her shoes on the hard tile of the police station hallway echoed as Peter escorted her to the interrogation room.
“Neighbors reported hearing a shot. Then we got Raul Rodriguez’s 9-1-1 call. When we arrived, he was incoherent. The gun was on the bed where he had supposedly been asleep. And his wife—”
“Stop.”
Raul’s wife was Sylvia, who Diana had been thinking about calling only a short time earlier. It was impossible to believe her friend was dead.
“Diana. I know you’re close to this—”
“She was one of my best friends. She asked me to be the godmother for their baby. Did you know that? Did you know she was pregnant?”
Peter had the grace to look chagrined. “Yes. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? Sorry!” Unable to control herself any longer, she faced the wall and pounded the rough cinder block with her fist.
Peter pulled her into a tight embrace as if to keep her from hurting herself. “I can’t imagine how tough this is.”
She held on to him, needing his stability because of all she was tempted to do. Sylvia’s life—her normal, happy, human life—was gone. Destroyed by violence. Violence like that within Diana, so strong she didn’t know if she could hold it back. And if the killer turned out to be Raul…
Dios. She would give in to the darkness and kill the bastard herself.
“Di? You need to get a grip if you’re going to talk to him.”
With a deep shuddering breath, she pulled herself together. Stepping away from Peter, she wiped at her eyes. “Do we have any other leads?”
Frowning, Peter shook his head. “Everything we have points to the husband. Maybe he found out the baby wasn’t—”
Diana silenced him with a pointed slash of her hand. “Don’t go there. Sylvia didn’t mess around,” she said, then stalked down the hall to the interrogation room, Peter trailing behind her.
Raul sat at a Formica-topped table, jailbird-orange clothing hanging loosely on his hunched shoulders. His bloodstained pajamas had been taken as evidence. He was hollow-eyed and obviously still in shock. “Tell me what happened, Raul,” Diana said.
“No se. We had dinner out. Un poquito de vino, but not much wine since Sylvia…” He stopped as tears spilled down his cheeks. He wiped at them with shaky hands and haltingly continued. “We went home. We were both really sleepy. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I was out.” His hands tumbled in the air. “No se que paso. There was a sound. A loud sound. I started coming to, but everything was fuzzy…” He stopped once more, buried his head in his hands. The tears fell more furiously.
Diana laid a hand on his shoulder. “I know this is difficult, but you have to try to remember.”
“I don’t know what happened,” he replied brokenly, and held out his hands as if pleading with her. “De verdad que no se. When I woke up, Sylvia was bleeding. I tried to wake her. When she didn’t respond…I called 9-1-1. I held her. She was so still. Then I saw the gun.”
“Did you touch the gun, Raul?”
He shook his head and wiped at his runny nose. “I don’t remember touching it.”
“Forensics will be able to confirm whether you did or not, Mr. Rodriguez. You may as well tell us now.” Peter moved to the table.
Raul snarled at the detective, “I did not kill my wife. I don’t know what happened, but I didn’t do it. I couldn’t do it. She was my life. Mi vida.” He jabbed at a spot above his heart to emphasize the point.
The sincerity in his words convinced Diana. She touched Raul’s clenched fist. “I believe you.”
He slumped into his chair. “Gracias, Diana.”
She glared at Peter. “I want to see all the reports. Anything you have.”
“You’re not assigned to this case. If the suspect hadn’t asked for you—”
“I would have found out and—”
“You don’t have jurisdiction here.”
He was right. Taking a deep breath to control her anger and frustration, Diana nodded and followed Peter out of the room. Peter wouldn’t refuse if she asked. So she did. “Ask me to help. I need to know what happened to my friend.”
Peter gave her a long look. “Unofficially and…whatever I say goes on this one. I’m the lead.”
“You’re the boss, Detective Daly.”
Peter let out a soft chuckle. “Right, Reyes. As if that will ever happen with any man in your life.”
“May I see the evidence, Detective? Pretty please?”
Peter chuckled again and shook his head. “Cut the shit, Di. You don’t do submissive very well.”
No, she didn’t, come to think of it. Maybe that was part of the reason her situation with Ryder troubled her so much. What she felt for him made her weak, made her surrender a piece of herself. She wasn’t good about not being in charge.
“Okay, so I’m asking straight-up. Show me what you’ve got.”
He motioned down the hallway. “CSU is processing most of it. But we can head to the M.E.’s to see the body—”
“Don’t call Sylvia that.”
Peter sighed and dragged a hand through his ragged sun-bleached hair. “I’m sorry. But you need to get perspective.”
“I will deal with it. But if it were Samantha—”
“Low blow, Reyes,” he said, his tone filled with anger at the idea of harm coming to his lover—who had sired Ryder more than a century earlier.
Ryder.
Like the intertwined strands on a web, everything in her life inevitably led back to him. Could she ever be truly free of him? Or would she be forever ensnared in that web, trapped by what she felt for him?
Had once felt for him, she reminded herself. As for those emotions and anything connected to them…she had to put them aside and focus on what was most important now—avenging her friend’s death.
Diana let out an exasperated breath and laid a hand on Peter’s sleeve. “I’m sorry. I will try to handle it better. Let’s go see Sylvia. Por favor.”
She would do what needed to be done to find Sylvia’s killer. And when she located him…
Living with vampires for two years had shown her just what she was capable of—fierce, swift action with no hesitation. Justice without the complicated rules of the human world.
She pitied Sylvia’s killer when he, too, found that out.
Chapter 4
Just a few weeks ago, the swell of Sylvia’s pregnancy had been a sign of hope for good things to come. Today, as Sylvia lay on the shiny metal of the medical examiner’s table, it was a grotesque reminder of promises that would never be fulfilled.
Diana stood by patiently as the M.E. went over the details of the evidence. Bullet entry and exit wounds. Proximity of the muzzle—a close-contact kill with a large-caliber weapon, straight to the heart. Sylvia could never have survived the trauma. The delay in getting help had sealed the fate of the baby.
Gunpowder burns and stippling marked Sylvia’s pajamas and skin. The bullet had gone straight through her and into the mattress below. CSU had recovered the bullet, but no casing. Ballistics was already attempting to link the bullet to the gun found and to any other crimes recently committed.
“Do you know if your friends owned a gun?” Peter asked as he picked up the .45 caliber revolver in an evidence bag.
“In law school Sylvia lobbied on behalf of the Assault Gun Ban. What do you think?”
With a quick nod, he held the bag out for the M.E. “Any prints?”
“Palm print as well as four fingers. We’re running them now against the suspect.” The M.E. reached into a tray holding more evidence and extracted a bag containing clothing. “Mr. Rodriguez’s pajamas tested positive for blood in various locations, as well as high-velocity blood splatter along the right sleeve.”
A possible inconsistency suddenly occurred to her. “Palm and fingerprints. Right or left hand?”
The M.E. flipped the bag containing the gun back and forth and examined the fingerprint powder residue. “Right.”
“Raul’s a lefty. Sylvia was always getting him those silly gadgets for lefties.”
“That doesn’t rule out that he used his right hand,” the M.E. said.
Diana went over the M.E.’s earlier report on the entry and exit wounds. “He was lying on his side, facing her, when he did it.”
The M.E. bobbed his head up and down. “That would explain the lack of defensive wounds. He could get the weapon in place and fire without her noticing.”
“Or someone could put the gun in his hand, hold it in place and pull the trigger. Especially if Sylvia and Raul had been drugged. What about gunshot residue?”
“We haven’t tested him for GSR yet. Before you arrived, he clammed up and asked for a lawyer,” Peter said.
Years of experience had taught her that the innocent rarely felt the need for a lawyer, but then again, being married to an attorney might make Raul hesitant to provide assistance without legal advice. He had probably heard his share of horror stories from Sylvia about how things got twisted into something other than what they really were.
“The GSR test would confirm whether or not he was close to the gun when it was fired,” Peter said.
“But not whether he was the one who actually pulled the trigger,” Diana reminded him. “The blood splatter pattern, however, might tell us.”
With an annoyed sigh, likely at the prospect of doing additional work, the M.E. said, “Special Agent Reyes, you can’t actually believe the husband didn’t do it? The case is almost airtight.”
“Airtight? If someone placed the gun in Raul’s hand and pulled the trigger—”
“There would be an area on the sleeve that lacked splatter,” Peter finished for her. “Have CSU check the entire right sleeve and make sure those toxicology reports are carefully reviewed for any unusual residues.”
“Of course, Detective Daly,” the M.E. answered. The glance he shot Diana was anything but friendly. As if to retaliate for the extra assignment the M.E. picked up the scalpel and let it linger above Sylvia’s body. The light caught the sharp edge and a chill transferred itself to Diana’s skin.
She had seen hundreds of autopsies before, but this one…
“I need to get back to the office.” She bolted from the room, Peter hot on her heels.
“You okay?” he asked as she leaned against the wall outside the autopsy room.
Swallowing to keep down the bile, she could only nod. “Will you call me later? Let me know what’s up and if toxicology finds something?”
“Will do.”
As she started to walk away, he said, “Diana?”
“What?”
“Will you be all right?”
With a shake of her head, she said, “I wish I knew.”
She couldn’t face going home. Couldn’t deal with sitting there alone, thinking about all that had happened. How what had started out as a normal day had spun into…darkness. As black and numb as that which had claimed her nearly a decade earlier.
Rushing out of her office, she started walking, headed nowhere in particular. Each step took her farther away from where she began, but no closer to where she needed to be. She wanted to be with other people, somewhere she could let go of the pain that had staked a claim on her this morning.
She could have gone to her brother, only she didn’t want to drag him down with her misery. As for her partner, David had tried to help her upon her return to the office, but had failed miserably. Her wound had been too fresh for her to accept sympathy.
Her reaction to today’s events was familiar, she realized. After her father’s death, she had driven away those closest to her. Her mami, her then boyfriend and lover Alejandro, even Sebastian, at first.
A stitch in her side made her stop. She suddenly realized she had been running, attempting to escape her emotions.
Only there was no escape.
As she paused until her breath became regular, hands on her hips, she glanced down the street and realized she was only a block or two from Ryder’s nightclub.
Had she been running to him or to the darkness she would find there?
With a deep inhalation, she told herself there was only one way to find out.
The Lair was the same as always. Charcoal-gray walls, structured to look like rock, absorbed most of the light, leaving the club with the feel of a subterranean chamber. Overhead, by the length of the stainless steel bar, hundreds of fake bats hung from the catwalks and ceiling. The only difference tonight was that the club was less crowded. It was early. So early that not even the band was on stage yet. Instead, music was piped in from a sound system.
Fine by her. Although she didn’t want to be alone, Diana wasn’t in the mood for masses of people milling around.
She couldn’t feel Ryder, but then again, she couldn’t feel anything but pain and anger. Loss. And worse than any of them combined, guilt—for not protecting her friend, for being absent from Sylvia’s life so often lately.
She had been too busy with work—and with Ryder. Years earlier, she had experienced something similar. She had been too busy with college and with her boyfriend, too involved with the needs of her own life to have time for her father…
Until he was gone.
Grief squeezed her chest, making it difficult to breathe. She forced herself to move forward, but not toward the steps leading to Ryder’s office. Not yet, anyway. Instead, she plunked herself down on a bar stool. Raising her hand, she motioned to the bartender she recognized from previous nights at The Lair.
The attractive blond laid out a coaster with the club’s stylized bat-and-blood logo.
“A shot of Cuervo.” Diana waved her hand toward the back of the club. “Is Ryder here?”
The girl shot a look up at Ryder’s office window. “I don’t think so.”
So he was gone, Diana thought. She had suspected as much with the connection she hadn’t felt from the moment she had stepped into the club. Maybe it was for the best. Maybe if he had been here tonight, she would have made a mistake she would so totally regret in the morning.
She rubbed at the tattoo on her shoulder, letting it remind her about not only protecting her heart, but avoiding rash actions. Seeing Ryder tonight likely being bad on both counts.
Diana slugged back the shot and then asked for another, which the bartender immediately supplied, although concern clouded her All-American features.
“Worried that I can’t handle it?” Diana asked, both interested and amused by the young vampire’s obvious anxiety.
The girl motioned to the tequila with a manicured nail done in pink. Nothing Goth about this vamp, Diana thought. “Last time I had one too many of those, I ended up undead.”
Diana choked on her drink. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, me, too. But I guess you go on, don’t you?” She gave a careless shrug that couldn’t quite hide the sorrow in her inquisitive blue eyes.
Diana only nodded her agreement. Was that why Ryder wasn’t here? Was he going on, moving on? She peered around again, trying to open herself up to sense him.
“I don’t think he’ll be back for a while.”
Diana experienced a rush of heat to her cheeks. “Am I that obvious?”
The vampire leaned her elbows on the bar and grasped the bar towel between both hands. “People tell me I’m intuitive. I guess that’s why I get such good tips.”
As Diana caught a glimpse of the cleavage the young vampire’s current position exposed and shot her gaze up to the coed’s too earnest and classically pretty features, she suspected there were other reasons, as well, but couldn’t be cruel.
“You are that,” she offered.
“So what about you and the boss man?” the vampire asked.
What about her and Ryder? “I’m not…like you.” She looked down at her glass, a bit uncomfortable about reminding the unfortunate coed of her undeadness.
“Yeah. You’re older,” the bartender said, so matter-of-factly that Diana jerked her gaze up in surprise, only to find the girl smiling. A broad, fooled-you smile that was friendly and blasted away her earlier discomfort.
“You’re right. I’m older and my clock—big tick tock. Settling-down time, sabes?”
“You don’t seem like the home-and-hearth type.”
Diana hesitated, thinking about the kind of life most people considered routine, about the kind of life she had finally acknowledged she might want. Except that lately an ordinary life seemed impossible.
Look at what had happened to her friend Sylvia. To her normal life. Look at what had happened in Diana’s past.
The girl placed her hand on Diana’s arm. “I never thought of myself as a soccer mom, either. I guess I should be glad I can avoid babies and wrinkles—”
“And sunburn,” Diana tacked on, slightly renewed by the young vamp’s honesty.
A wistful look came to the vampire’s features. “I always did burn, but damn did I look good in a bikini.”
Diana patted her cold hand. “It’ll work out. I’m sure you’ve got friends here. Ones who will help you.”
Some of the sadness faded from the girl’s face as she nodded toward Ryder’s office. “So do you.”
A reluctant sense of rightness came to Diana as she realized the young vampire was right. For so long her mantra had been one of sticking to herself and limiting the circle of people around her. But now, she had an ever-expanding cadre of the living—and the undead—whom she could count as friends.
The sadness of her recent loss was slightly tempered as she met the bartender’s gaze. “Maybe I do.”
Chapter 5
Immobile as a gargoyle, Ryder balanced high on the edge of the building across from the church, watching over Diana in the crowd below. He had been lucky. The funeral was in the early morning and the day overcast enough to allow him the freedom of attending.
Diana hadn’t called to tell him about her friend. She hadn’t left a message at the bar, either, although the bartender had made a point of relaying that Diana had been by and appeared to miss him. Funny how Diana could spill her guts to a stranger, but be unable to convey anything to him about her emotions.
Not that she needed to tell him what she felt this morning, he thought. Grief etched lines on her face as she gripped the top of the gray casket and helped the other pallbearers wheel their burden to the uppermost step of the church.
Diana’s steps were slow and measured, keeping pace with those in front of her. Each of the pallbearers peeled away until only Diana and a man stood at the back of the hearse. The husband, he suspected. They both stroked their hands over the surface of the casket one last time, and then the man embraced Diana and cried. His heartbroken sobs carried all the way to where Ryder perched. Diana tried to comfort the man, but her actions were stilted. Awkward. The lines of her body tense.
Luckily, someone from the family came to her aid and gently led Sylvia’s husband to a limo. Others quickly followed, but Diana hung back, her eyes on the hearse.
Death sucked.
And being undead didn’t make it any easier.
He had imagined too often lately how it would be after Diana died. He’d pictured the interminable days until they were reunited in the afterlife. The pain that came with such thoughts made him yearn to turn her, to keep her with him always. It was a desire he struggled with every day. And the struggle had kept him away from her.
Diana stood on the steps alone, clad in black, scoping out the church grounds.
Across the street someone with a camera busily snapped pictures. A few yards away at either end of the church, uniformed officers took down license plate numbers. Ryder had watched enough detective shows to realize they thought whoever had murdered Diana’s friend might be in the crowd.
Ryder recognized one detective as Diana’s friend, Peter Daly. He was clearly the leader of the investigation. Surprising. Especially since the murdered woman had been one of Diana’s best friends. Ryder hadn’t thought Diana would settle for anything less than being in command.
He didn’t mind that she liked to take charge. He understood where the need came from. Her sense of control kept her balanced. That she could give up that control on such an important case was a new facet to his ex-lover.
He shifted his position on the ledge, inching closer in the hope of hearing their discussion. Of connecting with her telepathically as he’d done before, only…
Something blocked him. Whether it was intentional or not, he didn’t know. He suspected the latter since he and Diana were both new to talking in each other’s heads. The only way of finding out, however, demanded either a visit to one of his vampire friends or a trip to the Blood Bank. Foley would surely tell him all about this particular skill while gloating over the fact that Diana had ditched him.
Ryder was even more sure that Foley would leap at the chance to advance his own relationship with Diana. She called to men like one of the sirens of old with her enigmatic blend of vulnerability and strength. Not that Ryder blamed him. Diana’s enticing darkness surrounded a pure heart. The way she still called to him.
He hated that. Hated how he ached for her. How he cared about her, despite his vow to stay away.
Her head tilted upward, rebellious in its posture. Her eyes, those amazing gold-green eyes, glittered with a hard light. And when the detective hugged her, she held on to him, her head buried against his chest.
Ryder was tempted to leap down there and…
What? he asked himself. The demon within—the one he had kept at bay for so long—answered all too quickly.
He would rip the other man’s throat out with glee, not even bothering to slake his thirst afterward.
Fists clenched, Ryder battled the urge to do just that. He battled the feeling of power that surged through him when the demon emerged. That sense of might always threatened to corrupt his humanity. But he had allowed himself to explore his demon half because the vampire’s strength let him help others. Let him be her hero.
But she had turned to others in her time of need and not to him.
Possibly never to him again.
Sorrow, raw and demanding, ripped through his heart.
He had almost been prepared for this anguish, as sharp and eviscerating as it was. Before Diana had made her request for space and time apart, he had known he should let her go. She deserved a real life before death called for her.
Now the slam of her car door reverberated in the silence of the early morning.
Ryder watched her car move away until a ray of sun sliced through a gap in the clouds, reminding him that his outing this morning had been but a short gift of freedom. The clouds were breaking up in anticipation of a sunny winter day.
Time for him to decide whether he should leave her alone in her misery or join her there.
The walls of her apartment closed in on her like the silk-lined top of a casket. Each breath seemed harder than the next, maybe because with each one she battled the tears she didn’t want to shed. If she gave in, they would become a never-ending torrent that would drain her dry.
But she told herself to breathe. In and out, in and out. Slowly. Methodically. Maybe with that simple act she could hang on long enough…
The tap on the windowpane finally registered.
Rising up on one elbow, she noted a shadow on the fire escape. A familiar shadow. Ryder.
He was here. Just feet away. She could be in his arms. Only…
Her emotions were too muddled tonight. Too conflicted. As vulnerable as she was, it would be a mistake to see him. A mighty big mistake.
Somehow that thought didn’t communicate itself to the rest of her as she slipped from bed and belted her robe tight. She opened the window to find him leaning against the edge of the fire escape railing.
“Are you okay?” His voice was low. The dim light from the sliver of moon hid his features, but she could picture them in her mind. His dark eyes nearly gone black with emotion. Sharply defined brows drawn together in question.
“I’ve been better,” she confessed.
“Is there anything I can do?”
She found herself sliding her leg up and over the sill. But she didn’t go to him, choosing to remain close to the window, her back braced on one edge of the sash. Her legs crossed in front of her, but with her knees drawn up tight to her chest. She told herself it was because of the chill of the winter night and not to avoid touching him.
“I feel…” she began, her voice tight as the tears she had dammed up swelled, threatening to spill over. With a deep, quavery breath, she continued, “I feel like I failed…my dad. Sylvia. You.”
Ryder didn’t need the moonlight to see her face. Vampire sight illuminated the way she gripped her lower lip with her teeth, worrying it, the sheen of tears as they tracked down her face. She must have realized she was crying for she suddenly buried her face against her knees.
That’s when he did what she likely feared the most—he picked her up with his greater strength and cradled her in his lap.
She finally released a deluge of tears.
She gripped his shirt and sank her head against his chest. She sobbed until she collapsed against him, her body trembling from the violence of the release.
“I’m sorry.” She shook her head dejectedly.
Ryder stroked his hand along her hair, down to her jaw. “There’s no need to apologize.”
“But there is. I asked you to leave. I can’t expect you to show up here whenever—”
“I came of my own volition, darlin’.”
This was wrong, Diana thought. How could she ever have a normal life if she gave in to her need for him whenever he came around? Especially now when she was unprepared and unwilling for this to go any further. But she needed an anchor. Something stable to stop the way her world was spinning out of control.
But Ryder couldn’t be that anchor tonight. She was still too uncertain of her feelings for him and for a life filled by things other than death and mayhem. And vampires, both good and bad.
She must have tensed, because he asked, “What’s wrong?”
She answered him frankly, wanting everything out in the open. “When my father died, I lost it. I let myself slip into…a bad place. The things I did. To myself. To Sebastian. To the other people I cared about…”
“But you left that world, Diana. You had the strength to make something of yourself.”
“I thought I’d left that world. And then I met you.” She placed her hand over his chest, rubbed it back and forth as she added, “Like you slip into your human skin when beneath—”
“There’s the demon who doesn’t want to play nice.”
She nodded. “Maybe that’s what brought us together. That twisted piece inside us that we can both barely control.”
“That’s not what it is, but you’re too afraid to admit the truth.”
The truth? She didn’t know what that was. “I know you want—”
“For you to be happy, darlin’. I want that more than anything.”
“I want the same for you. Only—”
He placed his finger on her lips to silence her. “You don’t need to say it.”
No, she didn’t. They both understood their happiness might lie on separate paths.
“How do you handle it? Losing everyone and everything you know?”
His body stiffened beside hers and although he didn’t say the words, she somehow knew. He had dealt with it much as she had—by putting up a wall around part of himself. By never letting anyone into that safe place.
“You stopped caring. You shut yourself off from the world.”
“Like you did, darlin’. Only…that’s not living. It’s just surviving.”
But retreating had helped her temper her hurt. Had let her function.
“Sometimes you have to embrace the darkness before you can get on with life,” he said.
She met his gaze then, so intense and compelling. Filled with so much darkness.
“It’s not always pain between us,” Ryder said. He cradled her jaw, offering solace with that touch.
“Isn’t it?” she countered. “What do I bring you but the prospect of loss? Of watching me—”
She couldn’t finish as he covered her mouth with his hand. “Don’t. Please.”
He could silence her physically, but not completely. I can’t bring you such pain.
“Do you think leaving me now is any less painful?”
She shook her head, dislodging his hand from her mouth, but when she gazed up at him, he had morphed. His glowing eyes pierced the night, drawing her into their depths. Reminding her of what she would give up if she left him for good. The passion they could share forever.
The call of that promise…
Was sometimes too tempting. Like now, when she was so weak. So confused. When death had touched her life and made her wonder what it would be like to never die.
Except that she couldn’t imagine living forever. She couldn’t imagine seeing everyone around her die. Or fearing something as simple and beautiful as a sunrise. But she also couldn’t imagine how Sylvia had spent those last moments of life. Had she suffered? Had she wanted more time?
Will I when it is my turn to die?
I would never take advantage of your fears, he said, returning to his human state.
You just did. She moved away from him. “I have to go. I need to be ready for tomorrow.”
Tomorrow she was going to help Peter with the investigation in what little free time she had. The day would demand her total concentration.
So she slipped back inside her apartment and shut him out of her mind and, she hoped, out of her heart.
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