Bitten by Darkness (4 page)

“He's
your destined mate.”

“What?
Mom?
That's ridiculous. Just an old story your grandmother
used to tell you,” Sienna had snorted, gripping her cell phone tightly.
“There's no such thing.”

Her mom
had sighed. “There is. We've just been denied access to them for centuries.”

“Is this
some of your Native American mumbo-jumbo? If so, please. You've got to be
kidding me. The Iroquois blood is so diluted in us it's nonexistent.”

“It's not
that, Sienna.”

Silence
again.

“Mom.
What the hell?” Sienna had asked. She'd wanted to take a shower, have a cup of
tea, maybe read a book for the rest of the day, and forget everything that had
just happened. Her mother made her crazy with her drawn-out silences.

“Don't
you remember that story I told you when you were little?
About
Peter?”

“Our long-lost ancestor?
Yeah, so?
Everyone has their
immigrant stories,” Sienna had retorted.

“Not like
ours. When Peter's father was killed, he felt a rip in his soul. He had a bond
with his father. It never healed.” Her mother had sounded tired.
As tired as Sienna felt.
“According to what my grandmother
told me, it got a little better when he married, but never entirely went away.”

“Is there
a point to this, Mom?
Because I am freaking exhausted.
You know what I saw out there.” Sienna had let a little of her tiredness show
in her voice, hoping her mom would get to the point and let her off the phone.

“I know,
Sienna. I know how horrible it is. My grandmother told me.”

Sienna
frowned. Her mother had never told her that.

“But this
is important. That hole inside you? That empty place we never talk about? Well,
it gets better when one of us marries, but never truly heals.
Never.
Because not one of us, none of our
line, daughter to daughter for over two hundred years, has ever had the
opportunity to meet her true husband.”

“What are
you talking about? What about Dad?” Sienna had been well and truly confused by
that point.

Her
mother had laughed, bitter. “Your father isn't my true mate. He never could
have been. He helped me feel better, for a little while, but then it got worse
again. And he left.” She'd sighed again, low and sad. “Not that it matters now.
At least
you
have a chance.”

“A chance at what?
You're thinking this strange guy is my destined mate just
because I told you he didn't freak me out? Come on. That's absurd.” Sienna had
grown angry. “He seemed nice. He was handsome, if a bit large. The police
questioned him and let him go. End of story.”

“Sienna,
I know it sounds nuts, believe me. Sometimes, though, the truth makes no sense.
Sometimes what you most need comes to you like a gift when you least expect
it.”

After
that, Sienna had hung up. She didn't know what to think anymore. The police and
FBI discovered that the man had just returned to the country after a decade
abroad, but he was indeed a U.S. citizen. He'd had every right to be hiking the
trails, just like anyone else. Just because he was gorgeous and calm and one of
the few men she’d ever met who was taller then
her
didn't make him some kind of destined lover.
Especially not
hers.

Chapter Seven

Jasper
stood in the library, looking at the books that were now antiques. The late
afternoon light from the tall windows filtered in through ancient curtains over
the rows of wooden shelves. The vaulted ceiling was still in good shape,
thankfully, as was the rest of the building's structure. Stone, wood, granite:
all of it was perfectly, beautifully preserved. Unfortunately, the softer
materials had not fared so well. Books, fabrics, even the gardens were a mess.
He'd been focused on building his ship and perfecting the
nanites
that would be the cornerstone of his revenge. He hadn't contemplated what the
years would do to the mansion and grounds. He stared at volumes he didn't dare
take down, knowing the bindings would be so dry they'd crack as soon as he
pried them loose.

“
Dammit
.” He turned away, vowing to deal with it some other
time. It wasn't important, anyway. So what if Ambrose, best friend, adopted
brother, loved the library best of all the rooms in the manor? He was dead now.
He’d been dead for centuries.

“It's not
important.” He had every single one of those titles digitally stored in the
manor's computer system, anyway. At least renovating the bedrooms hadn’t been
difficult. He ran a finger down the scar on his right palm then strode out of
the wood-shelf lined room, heading for the kitchen. He hadn't eaten in five
days. He'd have to go hunting soon, but at least for now he could drink some of
the milk that was so abundant on Earth. Thank goodness he'd managed to hook up
a rudimentary energy source to power the place. The technology of his birth
planet was light-years ahead of Earth, so he had ample running water, cooling
and heating, as well as cold food storage, as long as he had the energy to fuel
it all.

As he
crossed the main foyer on his way to the back of the house, he paused. The
mosaic on the floor mocked him as he frowned, trying to figure out what he'd
sensed. The sunburst design, so foreign to
Dekcol
, usually
soothed him, but not now. Something felt wrong. He stilled and cast out his
mind. No, not wrong, different.

He walked
to the front door slowly and palmed the view screen set into the wood. The
front steps appeared on the glass. A woman sat on them, contemplating the sky.
For a moment, a surge of anger rushed through him and his hands shook. He
didn't want anyone here, in his sanctuary! He swiped at the screen and the view
disappeared. He grabbed the doorknob, intending to storm out, but something held
him back.
Something about the woman's blonde hair, or
posture.
Something familiar…

“Sienna,”
he breathed, remembering the woman's name. A week ago, he'd saved her friend
from one of the revenants, those
Dekcolians
left on
Earth to serve the Blood Council’s interests. He’d seen the reports the highest
Councilors had thought were hidden. Why they thought they could make him a
member of their precious government and then keep secrets from him, Jasper
never understood. He was a scientist. A technological genius, as they should’ve
known, since that’s why they’d appointed him to their ranks. There was no
computer system so secure that he couldn’t hack into it. He’d had his first
inkling that all was not well with
Dekcol’s
Council
when he’d discovered they’d left dozens of operatives on Earth after the order
to leave.
The temptation to feed on sentient life, so
abundant here, so incredibly rare on
Dekcol
, proved
to be their undoing.
As soon as they began feeding on humans, their
addiction began. The madness turned them into the revenants Jasper wasn't
supposed to know about.

“Sienna,”
he said louder, testing the way her name felt on his tongue. She was beautiful:
long honey-blonde hair, pale skin. Eyes so golden they looked like the sun at
dusk, with flecks of green at their center. Why was he able to remember her so
vividly? Why was she on his steps?

He stood
there, fighting with himself. He wanted to talk to her. Touch the delicate skin
on the back of her hand. He remembered the freckles on her arm, the way they dotted
the curve of her elbow like a constellation of stars. There was no reason for
him to go out there. No reason to let her distract him from his purpose. Except
… how had she gotten through the outer perimeter of the cloaking-veil? He
imagined her face turning up to his, eyes wide.
Startled.
His cock stirred, lengthening until it chafed against the new denim of his
jeans. Why did he want her so badly?

He opened
the door.

****

Sienna
leaped up when the door behind her creaked, heart banging against her ribs.
What the hell? No one lived here! She'd been coming to sit on the steps of this
abandoned mansion for ten years. She whirled around, preparing to run, but when
her gaze fell on the man standing at the top of the stone stairs she paused.

“Sienna.”
Jasper closed the door behind him with a hollow boom, as if the space beyond
was vast. Empty.

She
stared. He wore jeans again. A white shirt, unbuttoned. He was barefoot. She
couldn't make herself run. Or speak.

“What are
you doing here?” he asked gently, as if she was easily startled.

She
wasn't. She was just … shocked. Yes, shocked to find someone here after all
this time.
Shocked that it was
him
.

“What are
you
doing here?” she challenged, willing her heart to calm the hell
down.

“I live
here.” He started down the steps.

She held
her ground. She'd be damned if she was going to run away like a little girl.

“No one
lives here. I've been coming here for years and no one has ever lived here.”
Her head spun, as if she couldn’t get enough air. The closer he came to her,
the more she realized just how beautiful a man he was. His dark hair looked
infinitely soft. His chest was smooth and his golden
skin
made her want
to touch him, see how warm he was. Even his hands were
lovely: well-formed, strong,
capable
.

“I've
been away.” He halted in front of her and lifted a finger to her face,
smoothing away the strand of hair that clung to her cheek. “I've been away a
long time.”

“How can
you live here?
In the middle of a state forest?”
She
ignored the heat that curled low in her body from his casual touch.

He
shrugged.
“Long-term lease with the government.”
He
ran his hand down her arm. “Ah.”

She
swallowed. What was she doing, standing here letting him touch her? “What—” She
had to clear her throat. “What are you doing?”

His fingers
lingered over her wrist for a moment, then let go. He smiled. “How did you get
here?”

What?
She blinked. “I walked.
Hiked.
From the trailhead.”
She wondered if he perhaps wasn't very
bright. It seemed obvious how she got here. The only way to get to this part of
the trail was to hike up.

His face
tightened briefly. “I see.” He turned, looked into the woods. “So you've been
coming here for a while?”

“Yeah.
After my dad…” She broke off, tried again. “It's peaceful. No one bothers me
here.” She looked at him accusingly.

“What
happened with your father?” He rubbed the thumb of his right hand against his
palm.

Sienna
fought to keep her eyes on his face. His jeans are too damn tight, she thought.
She looked up to find him observing her with amusement. Her face burned.

“He left
my mom when I was eighteen. We don't talk,” she said.

The
sympathy that chased across his face shocked her. Who was he to care? How could
he possibly understand, anyway?

“I'm
sorry for your loss,” he said quietly. Then, “How old are you?”

She
huffed. “Don't you know it's impolite to ask a woman's age? How old are
you
?”

He
grinned. “Old.”

She
laughed, even as she berated herself for hanging around, talking to him. “Oh
please, you can't be any older than I am. I don't see a single grey hair.”

“So how
old are you?” He put his hands on his hips, challenging her.

“Twenty-eight.”
She waited for the look of disbelief to cross his face,
the usual response when guys found out how old she was. She looked eighteen,
courtesy of the weird genetics inherited from her mother.
The
same genetics that left her feeling out of place practically everywhere.
She waited for it, but he didn't say a word. Instead, he took her hand and
gracefully bent over it, kissing the skin on the back of her hand. What the
hell was he doing? She gasped as a tingle ran through her. She jerked her
fingers out of his grasp.

“What the
hell?” she
asked,
disconcerted.

He didn't
react. Just let his hand fall to his side, as if her question was pointless.
“Would you like to see inside?”

She
stared, willing her nerves to settle. Was he serious? After that kiss and
tingle, whatever the hell it was, and his non-reaction, he wanted to give her a
tour? “It's getting dark,” she said. What she wanted to do was run away.
No,
that's not true
, a little voice told her.
What you want to do is grab
him and never let go.

“Do you
have somewhere else to be on this lovely Friday night?” His eyes glowed in the
deepening twilight.