Night's Surrender (2 page)

He shook the ancient memories from his mind and focused instead on Abbey Marie. He had been drawn to her the moment her eyes met his, though he couldn't say why. Still, he had been shocked by the almost mystical sense that he had not met her by accident, that she was meant to be his, body and soul.

He sat there until dawn teased his senses. In his bedroom, he undressed down to his briefs, then stretched out on the bed. In days past, he had slept in caves, abandoned hovels, burned-out buildings.

Muttering an oath, he closed his eyes. Enough about the past. He dragged a hand across his jaw. An indrawn breath reminded him of the woman. Abbey. The scent of her skin lingered on his, a scent that was uniquely hers. It conjured images of sunshine and children at play, of close-knit families gathered together in love and laughter, things that had never been his. Would never be his.

He murmured her name as the thick darkness closed around him, sweeping him into oblivion.

 

 

Abbey woke early with a smile on her face. Sitting up, she hugged her pillow to her chest. It was Friday and she had a date. With Nick.

Bounding out of bed, she showered and dressed, ate a quick breakfast, then hurried down the street to the loft where her acting class met.

She nodded to her friends, but didn't stop to chat lest they weaken her resolve.

Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the coach's door, hesitated when he bid her enter. Did she really want to do this?

Another deep breath and she stepped into his office. Peter Abbot sat behind a large walnut desk. Autographed photographs of world-famous actors and actresses covered the wall behind him. Abbey had hoped that her own photo would one day join the others, but it had been nothing but a pipe dream. She knew that now.

Abbot listened quietly to what she had to say, nodding from time to time. “I can't say I didn't see this coming,” he remarked. “I believe you have the talent necessary, but you're right, you don't have the drive, the hunger, to make it to the top.” Rising, he came around the desk and gave her a hug. “You may never be a great actress,” he said, “but you will always be a star in my eyes.”

Blinking back her tears, Abbey gave him a quick smile, then hurried out of the studio.

 

 

She spent the rest of the day scrolling through the want ads on her iPod, only to realize that not only wasn't she cut out to be an actress, she wasn't fit for much of anything else, either. Save for a few menial jobs in food services or child care, or those that required physical labor, most of the jobs these days were strictly high-tech, requiring complicated computer and software skills.

Tossing her iPod on the sofa, Abbey glanced at her watch, then grabbed her handbag, and headed out the door, all thoughts of finding a job erased in the excitement of her upcoming date with Nick. She couldn't wait to see him again. She wanted to wow him tonight, make him really sit up and take notice, and with that in mind, she hailed a cab and went shopping at her favorite boutique.

 

 

The doorbell rang at eight sharp. A million butterflies took flight in the pit of Abbey's stomach as she quickly applied her lipstick, took a last glance in the mirror, then ran to answer the door.

Nick whistled softly when he saw her.

“You didn't say where we were going,” Abbey said, blushing as his gaze moved over her. “I hope this is appropriate.”

“You're beautiful.” And indeed, she was. The black dress emphasized her curves and displayed a generous amount of shapely leg. Her hair fell over her shoulders in silky soft waves. “Are you ready to go?” he asked.

Abbey nodded. Outside, he handed her into a blood-red, late-model sports car, making her think that, for a man without a job or prospects, he seemed to be doing pretty darn well.

He drove to a high-class nightclub in a posh section of the city. One look and Abbey knew it was a place made for lovers. The lighting was discreet, the high-backed booths arranged for privacy.

A small band occupied a raised dais at one end of the room. Lights twinkled around the floor of the dais. A long bar, also outlined by tiny twinkling lights, took up one wall at the opposite end. The same tiny, twinkling lights ringed a large dance floor.

A hostess attired in a long black gown guided them to a booth. A waitress came quickly to take their order—a Manhattan for Abbey, a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon for Nick.

“I've never been here before,” Abbey said, glancing around. “It's lovely.”

“As are you.” Nick gestured at the dance floor. “Shall we?”

She nodded, eager to be in his arms. Taking her hand in his, he led her onto the floor. It was like a dream come true, Abbey thought, being in his arms again. The music was soft and low yet carried a sensual undertone that made her think of lovers entangled in silken sheets. He held her close, his body brushing intimately against hers. The air between them was charged with tension, making it hard to breathe. She looked up at him, wondering if he was as aware of it as she, felt his desire wash over her in a wave of longing.

Lost in the heat of his eyes, she pressed herself against him, wanting to be closer, hating the clothing that separated them. When he lowered his head to hers, she closed her eyes in anticipation of his kiss. His lips were cool, yet warmth suffused her from head to heel. She was only scarcely aware that they had stopped moving. There were only his arms tight around her, his mouth boldly claiming hers.

She stared up at him, dazed, when he pulled away.

“The music's stopped,” he murmured.

“Has it?”

Nick brushed her cheek with his knuckles, then took her hand and led her back to their table. She might be young, he mused. She might be small in stature, but she was all woman.

Smiling, he lifted his glass in a toast. “To us.”

“To us,” Abbey repeated. They were, she thought, the two most beautiful words she had ever heard.

They danced and talked for hours, until Abbey's eyelids grew heavy.

“I should take you home,” Nick said when she yawned yet again.

“No.”

“You're falling asleep, sweetheart.”

“I know, but I don't want this night to end.”

“There's always tomorrow night.”

“Same time?” she asked.

He nodded. “Come on, I'll take you home.”

Abbey felt a tingle of awareness as they waited, handin-hand, for the valet to bring Nick's car around. It had rained while they were inside; dark gray clouds scudded across the sky, the sidewalk and streets glistened wetly in the moonlight.

She couldn't stop looking at Nick as he drove to her apartment, one hand on the wheel, his other hand holding hers. Would he kiss her good night?

Lost in daydreams that went beyond a mere goodnight kiss, she didn't see the car careening toward them, wasn't aware of any danger until a black SUV swerved to miss the car and clipped their fender.

Nick hit the brake to avoid going onto the sidewalk, but the tires had no traction and went skidding over the wet street, then came to a jarring stop when it smashed into the side of a building.

Abbey cried out as her head slammed against the side window, and then everything went black.

Nick hissed a vile oath. He was sorely tempted to go after the idiot who had side-swiped him, but a quick look at Abbey changed his mind. Blood oozed from a shallow gash in her right temple and trickled down her cheek.

Getting out of the car, he hurried around to her side, opened the door, and lifted her into his arms.

Utilizing his vampire senses, he assured himself that she had no serious injuries and no concussion before he called upon his preternatural powers and transported the two of them to his favorite lair on Park Avenue.

 

 

Abbey woke with a groan, one hand pressed against her throbbing head.

She opened her eyes, squinting against the light. Where was she? A glance at the window showed it was still dark outside.

She started to sit up, only to fall back on the mattress as the room spun out of focus.

“Easy, now.”

She recognized that whiskey-rough voice. “Nick?”

“I'm here. How are you feeling?”

“Awful. What happened?”

“Don't you remember?”

She frowned. The movement made her wince. “We were in an accident . . . somebody hit us . . . but how did I get here?” Wherever “here” was.

“I brought you home. My home,” he clarified. “You're not badly hurt. Bit of a cut on your forehead is all. You were lucky.”

She didn't feel lucky. Her head hurt like sin. And she was in a man's bed. A man she scarcely knew. “I should go home.” It was one thing to imagine being in Nick's bed; quite another to wake up and find herself there. He was, after all, little more than a stranger.

“Tomorrow.” He eased her back down when she tried to sit up again. “You need someone to keep an eye on you tonight.”

She wasn't up to arguing with him. She had never been in an accident before; it left her feeling vulnerable.

Nick placed a cool cloth on her forehead. “Get some sleep. I'll be here if you need anything.”

She wanted to tell him that she was fine, that she didn't need a nursemaid, but trying to form the words was suddenly too much trouble. The best she could manage was a murmured “Thank you” before her eyelids fluttered closed.

Nick stood beside the bed, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, his brow furrowed as he watched her sleep. Although she wasn't badly hurt, he intended to stay by her side until dawn.

Bemused by his urge to protect her, he watched her sleep. He should have taken her back to her apartment, or to the hospital. With her in the house, he would have to take his rest elsewhere.

Why had he brought her here?

Closing his eyes, he inhaled the flowery fragrance of her silky hair and skin, the enticing scent of her life's blood.

The slow, steady beat of her heart was like music to his ears as he lowered his head to her neck. He would only take a little, he promised himself, just enough so that he would be able to sense it should she need him when she woke in the morning.

Just enough to discover if she tasted as good as she looked.

“Hey!” Logan Blackwood made a hasty grab for his wife, but his hand closed on empty air as she deftly slid out of bed. “Where are you going?”

Mara moved to the window. Drawing back the curtain, she stared out into the darkness. “Abbey's hurt.”

“Are you sure?”

She glanced at him over her shoulder, one brow arched. “Are you doubting me?”

“Of course not, but . . .” Logan shook his head. He had known Mara for over nine centuries, yet her preternatural abilities continued to amaze him. They were in California; Abbey was in New York City. In spite of the vast distance between them, Mara was able to sense her godchild's distress because of the blood link they shared. Still, he thought it remarkable. She shared a similar blood link with her godsons, Rane and Rafe, as well. It allowed her to find them no matter where they were. “Is Abbey okay?”

Mara nodded as she slid back under the covers and into his arms. “It's nothing serious.”

“Good.” He kissed her cheeks, the tip of her nose, trailed his tongue down the length of her neck. She was a woman like no other. He never tired of looking at her, or making love to her. Even after all the years they had shared, she still had the power to excite him. To surprise him. “So,” he murmured, tucking her slim body beneath him, “where were we?”

She gazed up at him, her deep green eyes sparkling with mischief as she raked her nails down his bare back. “You don't remember?” She pouted, hips undulating in a way meant to drive him wild.

“Honey,” he growled, “how could I ever forget?”

Abbey woke abruptly. One minute, she was dreaming about making love to a tall, dark handsome man who looked remarkably like Nick and the next she was wide awake, with the sun brightly shining in her face, and her cell phone ringing.

After sitting up, she looked around for her phone. Spying it on the bedside table, she checked the display before answering. “Dad? What's wrong?”

“Where are you?”

“I'm at . . . at a friend's house.”

“Are you all right?”

She lifted a hand to her head, winced when her fingers brushed the bandage on her temple. “Yes, why?”

“Mara called me late last night. She said you'd been hurt, that it wasn't serious. I've been calling you all morning.”

“I . . . I guess my phone was off.” Had Nick turned it off last night? Nick. She glanced around the room. Where was he?

“Do you need me to come there?”

“No. Listen, Dad, I'm going home. I'll call you when I get there, okay?”

“You're sure you're all right?”

“Yes. Love to Mom.”

After disconnecting the call, Abbey got to her feet, very carefully. She stood there a moment. When she didn't feel dizzy, she smoothed her hair and her clothes, then searched for her sandals. She found them, and her handbag, on the floor at the foot of the bed.

After stepping into her shoes, she went looking for Nick. The condo was large, sparsely furnished with what she thought might be genuine antiques. Although there was little furniture, the walls were covered with paintings. She didn't know much about art, but the paintings—mostly seascapes and scenes of ancient cities—looked incredibly expensive.

There was no sign of Nick, leaving her to wonder where he was at such an early hour. Not at work, since he'd told her he didn't have a job. Jogging, perhaps?

Feeling suddenly uneasy, she went outside to hail a cab.

 

 

Her father was pacing the floor in the living room of her apartment when she got home.

“Dad! What are you doing here?”

He opened his arms. “Do I need a reason to come and see my girl?”

“Of course not! I'm glad you're here.” After dropping her handbag on a chair, she hurried toward him, sighing as his arms enveloped her in a bear hug. He was, Abbey thought, the best, most handsome father in the whole world.

He released her after a moment, his nostrils flaring as he cupped her chin and turned her head to the side. He sniffed the shallow cut on her forehead. “Are you sure you're all right?” he asked dubiously. “Maybe you should sit down.”

“I'm fine.” With a shake of her head, Abbey sat in her favorite chair, her legs tucked beneath her.

Rane sat across from her, his hands resting on his knees. “Tell me about this man you met.”

“There isn't much to tell. I mean, I hardly know him.”

“Where did you meet him?”

“In a computer store,” she said, grinning at the memory.

“Does he know who you are?”

Abbey frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I smell vampire on you.”

“What?” Abbey blinked at him. “Are you sure?”

“New York City's a big place. There's no way for me to detect his or her identity. It could be your friend, it could have been some vampire who brushed against you by accident.”

Abbey stared at her father. Could Nick be a vampire? Even as she told herself it was ridiculous, she knew it was true. “That's how he knew my middle name,” she muttered.

Rane's head jerked up. “What?”

“The night I met him. He called me Abbey Marie. I never told him my middle name.”

Rane nodded, his expression troubled. “I don't want you to see him again.”

“Come on, Dad, you're a vampire and you don't want me to date one?”

“Abbey . . .”

“You're not suggesting he knew who I was and met me for some nefarious reason, are you?”

“Stranger things have happened.”

Stalling for time because she couldn't think of a valid counterargument, she kicked off her sandals, made a fuss about lining them up side by side next to her chair. It wasn't always easy, being the adopted daughter of a vampire and the only mortal in the family. They knew things she didn't know, possessed supernatural powers she sometimes envied.

“So, what's the big deal if he knew who I was?” she asked at length. “What could he hope to gain by meeting me?”

“It depends. He could be one of those rare vampires that hunt their own kind. He could be looking for Mara. He could be looking for that will-o'-the-wisp cure of Pearl's.” Rane leaned forward and pinched her cheek. “Maybe he just wanted to seduce a pretty girl.”

“Right.”

“Listen, why don't you come home for a while? We haven't seen much of you lately. Your mom misses you.”

“I know. I miss her, too. Why didn't she come with you?”

“I decided to come on the spur of the moment. She was still resting when I left.”

Abbey nodded. Her mother, Savanah, hadn't accepted the Dark Gift until the year after Abbey graduated from high school, making Savanah the youngest vampire in the family. Because Rane had sired her, and because he had consumed Mara's blood, Savanah was able to be up during the day. However, she usually rested when the sun was at its zenith. Abbey had often wondered if her mother regretted giving up her humanity, though she had never found the nerve to ask.

“So, what do you say, honey? Will you come home for a while?”

Abbey nodded, thinking how foolish she had been to leave in the first place. After selling their home in Porterville, her parents had bought a beautiful place near Auburn. The two-story ranch-style house sat on ten acres. Besides the house, there was a big, old barn, a chicken coop, and several corrals. A stream ran through the back of the property; pines and oaks covered the gently rolling hills. It was the perfect place for her mother to fulfill her secret dream of raising horses.

“Your mom bought a new mare,” Rane remarked, hoping to tip the scales in his favor.

“Really?” One of the things Abbey missed in New York was riding across open country. Until now, she hadn't realized how much she had missed it. True, you could ride in Central Park, but riding some plodding stable hack just wasn't the same as riding a horse with some spunk.

“All right, Dad,” Abbey said, grinning. “You convinced me.”

She would miss seeing Nick again, but what if her father was right? What if Nick was up to no good?

Besides, there were enough vampires in her life. She didn't need another one.

It didn't take her long to pack. She had been staying in a furnished, rented apartment; all that belonged to her—her clothing and personal effects, her books and a few knickknacks—fit easily into two large suitcases.

Since she had already paid the last month's rent, all she had to do was let her landlord know she was leaving. When that was done, she took one last look around to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything and she was ready to go.

Rane held one of her suitcases, Abbey held the other, along with her purse.

A rush of anticipation swept through her when her father wrapped his arm around her waist.

“Ready?” he asked.

Abbey nodded.

“All right, then. Here we go.”

Abbey felt a rush of nervous excitement as her father called upon his preternatural power and transported the two of them from her apartment in New York to their living room in Northern California. It was an awesome experience, hurtling through time and space. It always left her feeling slightly disoriented and a little queasy.

She dropped her suitcase and her handbag on the floor, then sank onto the nearest chair while she waited for the world to right itself and her head to stop spinning.

“You okay, honey?” Rane asked.

“Fine.” What was it like, she wondered, to be able to think yourself anywhere you wished to go?

They had left New York City at four, but in California, it was only one in the afternoon, Pacific time. Her mother was still resting.

Abbey glanced around. The room was just as she remembered it. The walls were still white, the carpet a light blue plush, the curtains—heavily lined to block the sun—were a darker shade of blue. A pair of high-backed sofas covered in a flowered print flanked the fireplace; a pair of easy chairs covered in the same shade of blue as the drapes faced the hearth.

Rane dropped her second suitcase beside the first. “I'll take these up to your room later.”

“Thanks, Dad, but I can do it.”

“You always were an independent kid.”

“Well, I guess I learned that from you.”

“Is that right? I always thought you got it from your mother's side of the family. Oh, you might want to go pick up some groceries,” Rane suggested, handing her the keys to his car.

Abbey glanced at the keys, then grinned at him. “Really, Dad? Another new car?”

“She's fast. Take it easy on the curves. Maybe we'll try out that new mare when you get back,” he said with a wink. “She's fast, too.”

“Sounds great. I won't be gone long.”

Thinking how good it was to be home again, Abbey tucked the keys into her purse and went out to the garage. She whistled softly when she saw her dad's new car. Like his father and his brother, Rane Cordova loved fast cars. This one was as black as sin, with black leather upholstery and every extra imaginable.

When she slid behind the wheel, the dashboard lit up as the onboard computer sparked to life, and asked for her destination.

“Howard's Market, no faster than the speed limit.”

“Yes, miss.”

Abbey buckled her seat belt, then sat back, and let the car do the driving.

She had a lot to think about. She knew she was welcome to stay with her parents for as long as she wished. A visit was one thing, but she was too old to live at home and sponge off Mom and Dad. Not that they would mind, but she needed to do something with her life, make her mark on the world before she was too old....

Abbey shook her head. Why was she so obsessed with aging all of a sudden? She was still young; she had a good long life ahead of her. Places she wanted to go. Things she wanted to do.

The car pulled up in front of the grocery store a short time later. Inside, she selected a shopping cart and strolled through the market. She loved shopping, whether it was for clothes, shoes, gifts. Or food. As she filled her cart, she couldn't help wondering, as she had so many times before, if her parents ever missed the pleasure of sitting down to a good meal.

Savanah had made sure they celebrated all the holidays while Abbey was growing up. Turkey and all the fixings at Thanksgiving and Christmas, ham at Easter. Her father had joined them at the table, sipping wine while Abbey and her mother ate until they couldn't hold another bite.

Savanah never mentioned those bygone holiday feasts, but sometimes, when Abbey was eating something her mother had once loved, Abbey glimpsed a hint of longing in her mother's eyes.

An hour later, Abbey was back home and putting her groceries away. She found a note from her father on the fridge. It read:
I'm at the barn, waiting for you.

After quickly stowing the last of the canned goods in the cupboard, Abbey hurried up to her room and changed into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, pulled on her favorite riding boots, and ran out the back door, heading for the stable.

As she passed the corrals, she noted there were three yearlings in one, and a couple of black-and-white heifers in the other. A large yellow cat dozed in the shade beside the barn.

Abbey found her father outside the barn, currying a lovely Appaloosa mare. His favorite mount, a long-legged bay gelding, whinnied softly as Abbey approached.

“What do you think of her?” Rane asked, resting one arm on the mare's back.

“She's beautiful!” The mare was predominantly black, with one white stocking. A spotted white blanket covered her hindquarters.

“She's yours.”

“Mine? But I thought you said Mom bought her.”

“She did. She bought the mare for you.”

Abbey stroked the Appy's neck, ran her fingers through the short, silky mane. “Hi, girl,” she murmured. “Have you got a name?”

“Her previous owner called her Freckles, but I suppose you can call her anything you like.”

“Freckles suits her.”

“Well, saddle her up and let's go,” Rane said.

The mare had a smooth, rocking chair gait. She responded quickly to the touch of Abbey's heels and seemed to be bomb-proof, unruffled by a jack rabbit that darted across her path, unperturbed when a flock of birds burst from cover and took to the air.

Abbey glanced at her father as they rode across the pasture, side by side. He was a handsome man, with chiseled features, a strong jaw, and long black hair. Years ago, he had been a magician, performing as The Remarkable Renaldo, The Marvelous Marvello, The Amazing Antoine, and Santoro the Magnificent. Of course, the magic he had performed wasn't magic in the usual sense of the word, merely a display of his preternatural powers.

Sometimes she forgot that he was a vampire, that he had to drink blood to survive. He rarely spoke of his past, but Mara had once told her that he regretted every life he had taken as a young vampire, that for most of his life he had refused to walk in the sun's light because he thought of himself as evil.

He wasn't evil, she thought, but the kindest, sweetest man in the whole world.