Twilight Dreams (12 page)

Chapter Fifteen

In the morning, Holly lingered in the shower, wondering if she had imagined the note of longing in Micah's voice last night, the yearning in his eyes. It seemed inconceivable that a vampire, possessed of incomparable strength and immense power, could be so vulnerable, so needy. He had said nothing of loving her, but then, they had only known each other for a few weeks.

Lust came instantly, she thought. Love took longer. Still, it was hard to believe that he could need her so desperately in such a short time.

Frowning, Holly rinsed the soap from her hair. What if it had all been an act? What if Micah had said all those things in hopes of keeping her close? Preying on her sympathy to ensure a ready blood supply.

She shook her head. That hardly seemed likely. He had never taken more than a few sips. Of course, that could change and she would be helpless to stop it.

She blew out a sigh, then turned off the water. Stepping out of the stall, she grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her hair, used another to dry herself before pulling on her robe.

The day yawned before her.

She hadn't given it much thought last night, but if she stayed with Micah—and that was a big if in spite of what she'd said—she would never see him during the day. There would be no shared Easter or Christmas mornings together, no breakfasts in bed, no days tanning at the beach or wandering through the zoo, no picnics in the park.

No children.

Carrying a cup of coffee into the living room, she found herself thinking about the woman who had once lived in this house. What had it been like for her? Holly couldn't help thinking she would have gone quietly insane if she had been in that woman's place. How awful, to know you couldn't leave, that you would never see any of your friends or family again.

To know you had become nothing more than a source of food for a bunch of bloodthirsty monsters.

Micah had loved the woman. Shirley. Holly heard the underlying pain in his voice whenever he spoke of her. It was strange to think that vampires were capable of such a tender emotion. Yet the evidence was here, before her eyes. There was no denying that Saintcrow and Kadie were very much in love. You could hear it in Saintcrow's voice whenever he spoke Kadie's name. See it in Kadie's expression whenever she looked at him.

Curling up on the sofa, Holly sipped her coffee. What kind of lovers did vampires make, anyway? If Micah's kisses were any indication, he was probably fantastic in bed. And with a vampire's stamina, undoubtedly tireless.

She hit her forehead with the heel of her hand. Why was she even thinking about such things? He wasn't really human anymore. Shoot, technically, he wasn't even alive. And yet there was no denying the fact that she came vibrantly alive in his arms.

Brow furrowed in thought, she put her cup aside. What if Micah was lying to her? What if he intended for her to take Shirley's place? What if he had no intention of ever letting her go home?

A chill ran down her spine as another troublesome possibility wormed its way into her mind. Micah could read her thoughts. She knew he was capable of making people believe whatever he wanted them to. Hadn't she seen the proof of that with her own eyes at his mother's house? He had manipulated his whole family into believing he had eaten dinner with them.

How hard would it be to make her believe she wanted to stay with him forever?

* * *

A gasp escaped Holly's lips when Micah materialized in the living room that evening. “You've got to stop that!” she exclaimed.

“Sorry.”

“You don't sound sorry,” she said irritably. “Why can't you enter a room like normal people?”

“Normal people?” He lifted a brow. “I guess because I'm not normal.”

“You know what I mean.”

“What are you so grumpy about? Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?”

“Maybe I'm grumpy because I didn't wake up in
my
bed. Did you ever think of that?”

“Hey, I'm sorry, all right?”

“No, I'm sorry,” she said. “I know you're trying to keep me safe, and I appreciate it, I really do.”

“But?”

“I miss my house. I miss working. I miss my freedom.”

He nodded. “I hear ya.”

“If I ask you something, will you answer me honestly?”

“I always have.”

“Can you force me to do things I don't want to?”

“What do you mean?”

“Micah Ravenwood, you know darn well what I mean! Did you compel Shirley to fall in love with you?”

“Hell, no! Why would I do that?”

“So she wouldn't object when you fed on her.”

Micah raked a hand through his hair. “Is that what you think? Dammit, Holly, I'd never do anything like that. Maybe you find it hard to believe that a woman could love me, but she did. And I loved her. And it was real, whether you believe it or not. Dammit!”

Holly huffed a sigh when he vanished from her sight. Why hadn't she kept her big mouth shut? Now he was gone and she was going to have to spend the rest of the evening alone, which was the last thing she wanted. She hadn't meant to hurt his feelings. She had just wanted some reassurance that he wouldn't compel her to do something she would find repulsive, like letting him feed on her. A little nibble once in a while was one thing, but quenching his thirst for the rest of her time in Morgan Creek was quite another.

How was she going to endure this for the next two and a half weeks?

How had Shirley and all the other unfortunate souls endured it year after year with no end in sight?

Of course, Shirley had had Micah for company, Holly mused. And whether she wanted to admit it or not, being loved by a hot young vampire couldn't have been all that bad.

Going into the bedroom, she changed into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, her gaze lingering on the bed with its pretty quilt. Micah had made love to Shirley in that bed.

Holly blew out a sigh of exasperation. No matter how many times she warned herself that making love to Micah would be foolish, it was something she yearned to experience for herself.

Going to the window, she stared into the darkness.

He wanted her.

She wanted him.

It was just a matter of time.

Chapter Sixteen

The blankets fell away as Kadie sat up, nervously chewing on her thumbnail as she listened to Saintcrow's conversation with Quinn. Quinn! She remembered him all too well from the days she had been a prisoner in Morgan Creek. He had accosted her soon after her arrival, but never again. Saintcrow had seen to that.

By the time Rylan ended the call, she was perched on the edge of the bed.

“You heard?” he asked.

She nodded. “You don't think she'll come here, do you?”

“It wouldn't surprise me.” Tossing his cell phone on a padded rocker, he began to pace the floor. Lambert was dead. Braga knew about Morgan Creek.

“Even if she finds this place, she won't be able to cross the bridge, will she?” Kadie asked anxiously.

“She shouldn't be able to.”

“And Mahlon?”

Saintcrow shook his head. “Neither one of them should be able to set foot on it, but I can't guarantee that.”

“You're scaring me,” Kadie said. And then grimaced. She was a vampire. She shouldn't be afraid of anything. But Saintcrow was worried, and that was enough to scare the pants off her.

“Nothing for you to be afraid of.”

“You wouldn't lie to me, would you?”

He flashed her a wry grin. “Only if I had to.”

“Rylan!”

Sitting beside her, he drew her into his arms. “I won't let anyone or anything hurt you, sweetheart. Do you believe me?”

“Of course.”

“That's my girl. I need to find Micah and let him know what's going on. I won't be gone long.”

* * *

Saintcrow found Micah in the cemetery, sitting beside Shirley's grave.

“Thinking of joining her?” Saintcrow asked, hunkering down across from him.

“Not exactly. What brings you out here?”

“I just had a phone call from Quinn.”

Micah frowned. “Quinn?”

“One of the old Morgan Creek vamps.”

“Oh, yeah, I remember him. He killed one of the women, didn't he?”

“Leslie. But that's not why he called,” Saintcrow said dryly. “It seems Braga knows about this place.”

“He told her?”

“No. She forced it out of Lambert. And after he told her everything she wanted to know, she ripped out his throat.”

Micah scrubbed a hand over his jaw before asking, “What else did Lambert tell her?”

“I don't know. Quinn wasn't very coherent.”

“Where is he now?”

“Looking for a place to hide if he's smart.”

“Are we still safe here?”

“That's the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question, isn't it? To tell you the truth, I really don't know.”

“So, what do we do now?” Micah asked. “Wait around to see if the wards on the bridge are strong enough to keep her and the hulk out?”

“You got any better ideas?”

“No, dammit. But I've got a bad feeling about this.”

“That makes two of us. What are you doing out here anyway?” Saintcrow asked.

Micah shrugged. “Just thinking. Wondering what my life would have been like if Shirley had let me bring her across.”

“What are you really worrying about?”

Micah looked up, his gaze meeting Saintcrow's. “Holly, of course. I swore I'd never fall in love again, and if I did, it would be with another vampire. And now . . . shit, I'm making the same mistake again.”

Saintcrow snorted. “I've lived a long time, and if there's one thing I've learned, it's that you can't pick and choose who you'll love.”

“What would you have done if Kadie had said no? Would you have brought her across anyway?”

“Without a doubt. She probably would have hated me for it, but I'd rather live with her hatred than live without her.”

“That's what I thought.” Micah plucked a blade of grass from the edge of the grave. “Power's a dangerous thing, isn't it?”

“It always has been. What's wrong between you and Holly?”

“She thinks I compelled Shirley to fall in love with me so I'd have a constant source of blood.”

“I'm beginning to see your problem.”

“I don't know how to convince her otherwise. She knows I can read her mind. Now she thinks I'm going to force her to do things against her will. How the hell can I convince her that I won't?”

“You could let her drink your blood.”

Micah snorted. “Yeah, right. Like that'll happen.”

“She'll like it.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I've never known a mortal who didn't. On the plus side, she'll be able to read your thoughts if you want her to. And if you don't, you can block her without her knowing it.”

“I've never heard of humans drinking from vampires.”

“It's pretty common with the goth crowd. Sometimes couples drink from each other. They only take a little and they don't bite each other. Usually, they use an X-Acto knife or a small surgical blade to make a small incision. They only drink a drop or two.”

“That's . . . I don't know. Sick, I guess,” Micah muttered, and then laughed. He was a fine one to judge, considering he consumed a lot more than a drop or two.

“It'll give Holly a high like nothing else,” Saintcrow remarked. “Some mortals get so addicted to our blood, they can't live without it. But that's rare.”

Micah shook his head. “I'm not sure it's a good idea.”

“Well, it's up to you. Right now, we need to decide whether to stay here and stand our ground, or cut and run.”

“You're the master vampire. What do
you
think we should do?”

“Stay here, at least for now.”

“And if Braga and her hit man show up?”

“Let's worry about that when and if it happens.”

“How old is Braga, anyway?”

“Three or four hundred, I guess.”

Old enough to be powerful
, Micah thought,
but relatively speaking, still young for a vampire.
“You said you'd tell me what caused the rift between you.”

“So I did.” Saintcrow gazed off into the distance. “I ran across Braga in Spain about three hundred years ago. I was hunting, and so was she. Turned out we were after the same prey. We had a good laugh over it. Then, being the gentleman that I am, I quit the field and went looking elsewhere.

“We ran into each other another time or two after that, and then I didn't see her again until about two hundred years ago. As fate would have it, I was hunting in London when I chanced upon another vampire. He was newly turned, a little uncertain, and belligerent as hell. At the time, I'd staked out a small portion of the East End as my hunting ground and very politely told him to get the hell out of my territory. He refused, and then he challenged me. I was younger then, full of piss and vinegar. I told him to bring it on. We fought.” Saintcrow shrugged. “I killed him. Braga found me while I was disposing of the body. I tried to tell her what happened, but she wouldn't listen. Not that I blame her. She loved the guy. We fought. I won, but I couldn't bring myself to kill her. Big mistake.”

Rising, Saintcrow slapped Micah on the shoulder. “Go home. Your woman is missing you.”

“I doubt that,” Micah muttered.

But the thought that it might be true took him to Shirley's. . . . He sighed in exasperation. He had to stop thinking of it as Shirley's house.

It was Holly's place now.

Micah found Holly on the sofa, one leg curled beneath her, a bowl of buttered popcorn in her lap, a soda on the table beside her. He didn't miss the sudden uptick in her heartbeat when he entered the house—through the front door—or the sense of relief that followed it. Unless he was very much mistaken, she was happy to see him.

“I'm sorry I got angry before,” he said, dropping onto the chair across from the sofa. “I can't blame you for being worried, or afraid. Or curious. This is all new to you. You have no reason to trust me or believe anything I say.”

“I'm sorry, too.”

“I was talking to Saintcrow a few minutes ago. He said drinking my blood would allow you to read my thoughts. . . .” He nodded as a look of revulsion crossed her face. “I was pretty sure you wouldn't like the idea. He just suggested it because he thought it might put your mind at ease if you knew what I was thinking.”

“Wouldn't that make me a vampire?”

“No. I'd have to drain you to the point of death and then give you my blood to bring you across.”

Judging from the look of horror in Holly's eyes, he figured she was visualizing the transformation. And not happy with what she saw.

“Could we talk about something else?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He hesitated a moment before saying, “I'm afraid I've got some bad news.”

“I'm not sure I want to hear it.”

“It's up to you.”

Holly set the bowl on the end table, sipped her drink, then folded her hands in her lap. “All right. Tell me.”

“Braga ran into a vampire who used to live here. He told her about this place.”

All the color drained from Holly's face. “So now we're not safe here, either?”

“I don't know. Neither does Saintcrow. We've decided to wait and see.”

Holly licked lips gone suddenly dry. She wasn't safe at home. She might not be safe here. “What if Braga does show up? What if Saintcrow's magic doesn't work on her, or on Mahlon?”

“There's no reason to panic, Holly. I won't let anything happen to you.”

“I'd like to believe that,” she said, her voice rising. “And I would except for one thing—even Saintcrow's afraid of Mahlon. And Saintcrow is a lot older and stronger than you are.”

He couldn't argue with that, Micah thought. Compared to Saintcrow, he was little more than a fledgling. But if Saintcrow gave him some of his blood . . .

It was something to think about.

* * *

Holly's anxiety grew with every passing day. She woke each morning wondering if Mahlon would come knocking on her door, spent every night worrying if the wards around the town would hold, or if Leticia Braga and her burly assassin would find a way across the bridge.

Her appetite suffered. When she looked in the mirror, there were dark shadows under her eyes.

“You look like hell,” Micah remarked when he came calling that night. “You've got to stop worrying.”

“How can I?” But fretting about Braga wasn't the only thing preying on Holly's mind. The more time she spent with Micah, the more she wanted to be in his arms. She told herself it was crazy to want a man—a vampire!—the way she wanted him, but she couldn't help it. When she wasn't lying awake worrying if she would live to see another sunrise, she tossed and turned anyway, thinking about Micah, wishing he was in bed beside her, his arms holding her close, his lips moving in her hair.

“I know you're afraid, sunshine, but if Braga or Mahlon breach the wards, Saintcrow will know as soon as it happens. He'll get us out of here before they can do any damage.”

“What can he do if Mahlon comes during the day?”

“You've got to trust Saintcrow. He hasn't survived this long by being weak or careless. If anything happens, he'll get you and Kadie out first.” Micah's gaze moved over her face. “You need to eat something, Holly. Tell me what you're in the mood for, and I'll get it for you.”

“I don't know.”

“Well, set the table. I'll be back in a few minutes.”

With a shake of her head, Holly went into the kitchen and set the table. Maybe Micah was right. There was no sense worrying about something over which she had no control. Every time she had tried to leave town, Saintcrow had known about it. There was no reason to think he wouldn't know the minute someone tried to enter.

It hardly startled her at all when Micah suddenly appeared in the kitchen, his arms laden with carry-out bags from the Olive Garden, Red Lobster, and Steak and Stein. He also had two bottles of wine, one red, one white.

“Since you didn't know what you wanted,” he said, placing the sacks and the bottles on the table, “I brought you pasta, steak, and lobster.”

“I can't eat all that,” Holly protested.

“Eat what you want tonight,” he said with a shrug. “Save the rest for tomorrow.”

Sitting at the table, she opened the Red Lobster sack and withdrew a plastic container. “It's too bad you can't join me,” she remarked as she opened the carry-out box.

“Yeah.” He leaned back against the counter, arms folded over his chest. “I used to love lobster and rice. And pasta. And steak.” Going to the cupboard, he found two goblets. After setting them on the table, he opened both bottles of wine. He filled one glass with red, the other with white, which he handed to Holly. “Bon appetit.”

“Does it bother you,” she asked, “watching me eat?” At first, dining in front of him had made her self-conscious, but she'd eventually gotten over it.

“No.” He grinned inwardly, thinking it would certainly bother her if
she
watched
him
.

Later, after Holly had finished dinner and put everything away, she joined Micah, who was in the living room watching a movie. After a moment's hesitation, she sat beside him on the sofa, careful to leave a fair amount of space between them.

He slid her an amused glance. “Maybe you could build a fence.”

Heat flooded Holly's cheeks. If he only knew that was the furthest thing from her mind. Her cheeks grew hotter under his knowing gaze. Of course he knew what she was thinking! He was reading her mind again. Why did she keep forgetting about that?