Midnight Embrace (13 page)

Her terror filled him with excitement. He loved the thrill of the hunt, the unbridled excitement when his prey was brought to its knees, the surge of power that spiraled through him in that moment when his victim realized death was inescapable.

He smiled, letting her see his fangs, letting the bloodlust that was raging through him shine clear and bright in his eyes.

She knew what he was. Oh, yes, she knew.

She would have screamed, wanted to scream, but she could not move. Could only watch, helpless, as he slowly lowered his head until she saw nothing but his eyes, and his fangs, sharp and white, descending toward her throat.

Another victim for you, my dear Dr. Avallone.

The thought made him smile in the midst of drinking.

It was a game he played, finding a victim, draining her to the point of death, then leaving her where she was sure to be found. Sometimes the good doctor reached his victims in time; sometimes he did not.

Did the doctor keep score? he wondered. By his reckoning, the doctor had fallen a little behind in the past year. Lives he had saved: 23; lives he had lost: 29.

How did Avallone know? he wondered. How was it that he arrived so often in time to save the poor foolish women who were Rodrigo's favorite prey? Silly mortals. So easily tricked, so easily lured to his side. More often than not, he did not even have to use his preternatural power. A bit of flattery, the promise of a pretty bauble, and they hastened to him, eager to be in his arms. And they were sweet, sweeter than anything he had tasted in mortality.

He drew back, his body filled with stolen warmth, the taste of the woman's blood lingering on his lips.

She sagged in his arms, her head lolling back, her complexion pale, waxy, her lips turning blue. A bit of blood oozed from her throat. Leaning down, he slowly wiped it away with his tongue.

The good doctor would have to hurry, Rodrigo thought as he lowered the woman's limp body to the ground, for this one was nearly gone.

Alesandro caught the scent of the Other on the night wind, and with it the knowledge that a woman lay dying. It was his gift, and his curse. A thought carried him through the dark night, across the hills and valleys, to the woman's side. The stink of the Other was all around. His evil laughter rode the wings of the night as Alesandro knelt beside the woman, his dark cloak spread around them, shielding them from the sight of any who happened to be passing by.

Too late this time, Dr. Avallone. Too late… too late…

He could hear Rodrigo's voice, taunting him.

The woman was on the brink of death, her breathing shallow, labored, her skin pale. Her heartbeat was faint, the merest flutter, barely audible even to his enhanced hearing, but she had a strong will and reason to live. She had three small children at home, a husband who was ill. He drew on his power, felt his fangs lengthen. He tore a gash in his wrist, held it to her lips.

Drink, woman! Drink!

She was weak, so weak, but not so far gone that she could resist the power in his voice. Her mouth fastened onto his wrist, her throat working convulsively as she swallowed the life-giving fluid.

Gradually, the color returned to her cheeks. Her eyelids fluttered open. She stared up at him in horror.

He could not blame her. He knew how he must look, his eyes burning red, his face a monster's mask. He had seen the lust for blood burning in Tzianne's eyes when she forced the Dark Gift upon him, had seen it in Rodrigo's eyes on more than one occasion. It was a look to strike terror into the heart and soul of any mortal.

She shoved his arm away, struggling to free herself from his grasp.

Be still, woman
! His mind spoke to hers in a tone that demanded obedience.

"Please, sir," she whispered. "Please, let me go."

"All in good time," he murmured.

He was bending over her, needing to take back a little of what he had given her, when the first blow came, driving him to his knees and away from the woman. He rolled onto his back, raising his arm to block Rodrigo's next attack, so that the vampire's fangs, aimed at his throat, ripped a deep gash from his wrist to his elbow instead.

Alesandro scrambled to his feet. Blood poured from the wound in his arm.

"Coward!" Alesandro spat the word.

Rodrigo laughed. Teeth bared, he hurled himself toward Alesandro a third time.

It was a silent, bitter battle. With fangs and claws, they fought like two great cats, slashing viciously at one another, the hatred that flowed between them a living thing.

The woman watched in horror and then fled into the night.

Alesandro fought as best he could, but the blood flowing from the wound in his arm weakened him. For all their preternatural strength, vampires were fragile creatures. The loss of the blood he had given the woman weakened him still more. Though it galled him to do so, he dissolved into mist and disappeared deep into the earth.

"Who's the coward now?" Rodrigo taunted.

The sound of the vampire's mocking laughter followed Alesandro underground.

Chapter Eleven

Four days, and she'd had no word from him. Where was he? Time and again Analisa sought out Mrs. Thornfield, begging the housekeeper to tell her where Alesandro was if she knew, but Mrs. Thornfield only shook her head.

"Try not to worry, child. He'll be home when he is able," was all the housekeeper would say.

When he was able
. The words conjured horrible images in Analisa's mind; images of Alesandro lying helpless and alone in the dark, weak and in pain.

Her studies came to a standstill. She ate but little and slept less. Too worried to read, too restless to concentrate on needlework, she paced the floors of the manor.

"You'll wear out your slippers," Mrs. Thornfield chided, but Analisa knew the housekeeper was as worried as she.

On the eighth night, overcome with exhaustion, she went up to his room. Going to the wardrobe, she opened the doors and ran her hands over the coats hanging inside. They were all fashioned of expensive cloth, most in dark colors. It comforted her a little, to see them there, to touch something he had worn. With a sigh, she crawled under the covers of his bed. His scent surrounded her, soothing her even as it reminded her of what might be forever lost. Alesandro…

She sat up, her heart pounding in anticipation when the door opened, but it was only Mrs. Thornfield.

"I brought you a nice cup of tea," she said, "to help you sleep."

Analisa knew that her disappointment was evident as she thanked the housekeeper.

"Try not to worry," Mrs. Thornfield said. "I'm sure he'll be back soon."

Analisa nodded.

"Good night, child."

"Good night."

She sipped the tea, grateful for its warmth. Putting the cup on the table beside the bed, she slid under the covers once more.

She was almost asleep when she heard his voice in her mind.

Analisa…

"Alesandro!" She bolted upright, her gaze searching the darkness. "Where are you?"

Come to me
…

Slipping out of bed, she left his chamber. Heedless that her feet were bare and she wore nothing but her nightgown, she left the house, following the narrow, winding path that led to the crypt in the grove. The wind whipped her nightgown around her ankles, sent chills down her spine.

She was shivering when she reached the crypt. "Alesandro? Alesandro, where are you?"

"Here."

She whirled around, her eyes widening when she saw him. He was pale, his skin almost as white as the marble tomb. She reached for his hand, and he jerked it away, but not before she touched him. He was cold, so cold. The words
cold as death
whispered through her mind.

"What's happened?" she asked. "You look…"

"Rodrigo," he said, and told her, in a voice empty of emotion, what had happened.

"You need blood, don't you?"

He nodded. He looked down at her, hating himself for his weakness. He should not have called her here. Had he any honor, he would have gone elsewhere to assuage his hunger, but it was her blood he craved, her blood that called to him, sweeter, more satisfying, than any other.

" 'Lisa…" He gazed into her eyes, not wanting to ask, knowing he could take what he needed by force, knowing, just as certainly, that he would not.

In silent invitation, she tilted her head to one side, brushed the hair away from her neck, and waited.

He told himself to leave her, to take his hellish thirst elsewhere, but he could not deny his need. Quietly cursing the hunger raging through him, he took her into his arms and bent over the slender curve of her neck.

She moaned softly when his fangs pierced her skin, a soft sound of mingled pain and pleasure as she surrendered to his vampire kiss. It should have repelled her, she thought. Why did she find it somehow arousing instead of abhorrent? Why did she find the thought of his going to another so distressing? But none of that mattered now. Closing her eyes, she surrendered to his need. And her own.

Strength flowed through Alesandro, chasing away his lassitude. The demon within urged him to take more than he needed, to bury his fangs deep in her soft flesh and take it all. He fought the impulse to do so, taking only what he needed to ease his pain, and then he put her away from him.

She looked up at him, her eyes unfocused.

"Analisa?" He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand.

She sagged against him, her eyelids fluttering down, her cheek resting on his chest, her face pale. Sweeping her into his arms, he carried her up to the house, settled her onto the sofa, covered her with a blanket. A wave of his hand summoned a fire in the hearth. Feeling unworthy, he sat beside her, his senses lightly probing hers.

With a sigh, she looked up at him. She had beautiful eyes. If they were indeed the windows to the soul, then her soul was as pure as that of a newborn babe.

Muttering an oath, he looked away, unable to meet her gaze. "I am sorry,
cara mia
. Forgive me for my need, my weakness. It is beastly. Unforgivable." He shook his head. "Irresistible."

"There's nothing to forgive, Alesandro," she said quietly. "I'm fine, truly I am. It's quite pleasurable, you know."

His gaze moved over her, noting the dark shadows under her eyes, the faint hollows in her cheeks. "Are you well?" he asked.

She nodded. "I'm fine. Except… well, I've not been sleeping very well the last few nights."

"Is something troubling you?"

"You trouble me."

He smiled faintly. "Not nearly as much as you trouble me."

"Who is Rodrigo? What's between the two of you?" His arms suddenly felt like steel around her. "I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I didn't mean to pry."

"It is all right. You, of all people, have a right to know. He is what people expect a vampire to be," Alesandro said quietly. "He revels in what he is, in the power he has. He delights in killing."

"He tried to kill you, didn't he?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"We were friends once. We grew up together, practiced medicine together, such as it was those days. Rodrigo was in love with my sister, Serafina. They planned to marry. A few months before the wedding, Rodrigo and I went into the city. We had been drinking heavily. When we left the tavern, we saw a woman. A beautiful woman. Rodrigo decided to follow her, and I followed him.

"When we reached the lane that led to her house, she turned and beckoned us to follow. Rodrigo did so, but I held back. He was in there for a long time, and I began to worry. I crept up to one of the windows and peered inside."

He paused, seeing it all again in his mind.

"They were on the bed. At first, I thought they were making love, but then the woman turned toward me, and I saw the blood smeared on her mouth. Her eyes were red and glittering. She hissed when she saw me.

"I turned away in terror and began to run, but she caught me easily. I fought her, my terror adding to my strength, and yet I was helpless against her. She threw me to the ground, and I felt her fangs tear at my throat. She was angry that I had spied on her, and there was no gentleness in her."

Analisa's eyes grew wide, her face pale.

"She carried me back to her house and left me there, with Rodrigo. I watched in horror as he died before my eyes, and then it happened to me, as well, and when we woke the next night, we were new creatures."

"But how… how was it done?"

"The transformation? She took our blood, drained us to the point of death, and then gave it back to us.

That night, we died as mortals and were reborn as vampires."

"But you gave me your blood, and I'm not a vampire."

"It is not just the giving of blood, 'Lisa. To bring you across, I would have to take your blood, all of it, and then give it back to you."

"Have you ever made another vampire?"