Undeniable (31 page)

Lining the shelves were books by the same authors that
filled the bookcases in her grandmother’s den. She wondered if her grandmother
had spent the day after her bonding ritual here.

Damien must have known this place was safe because he had
used it for himself. The cottage and this room had played a part in their
bonding. She felt a rush of warmth at the thought of the love her grandmother
felt for the handsome man sprawled on his stomach with one arm protectively
draped over Sebastian’s chest.

She grinned at the thought of Sebastian thinking he lay in
her embrace as he slept.

With a chuckle she strode over to an ornate chest. On top
was a large book encased with leather. Embossed in gold, the title sent a chill
down her spine. “The Laws of the Clan of Mina,” she murmured.

Lifting the heavy book, she curled up on an overstuffed
chair that faced the bed. The day would feel like an eternity with no way to
tell the time and nothing to do but read and wait.

Her stomach growled. She glanced around at the various
pieces of furniture, somehow confident that Damien had food stashed somewhere
for her, that he’d made certain this would be the haven they needed.

They were safe, she was sure of it. Safe from whomever
Sebastian felt wanted to put an end to their bonding.

After she’d found a small refrigerator tucked beneath a
table and finished the sandwich and coke within it, she returned to the couch
and opened the book. A stark white envelope was wedged between pages yellowed
with age. Damien’s name, written in a sweeping script she instantly recognized
as her grandmother’s, was scrawled across the front.

Diana stared at the envelope for a long time before deciding
that her grandmother would understand her need to read the enclosed letter.
Unfolding the page, she immediately smelled her grandmother’s favorite perfume.
A lump formed in her throat before she began to read. Here and there, tiny
round areas of faded ink revealed where each of her grandmother’s tears had
fallen. Taking a deep breath, she leaned back and began to read…

My darling,

How can I explain why I sent you away? Will you ever
forgive me for not pledging my love for you before the elders? Did you look
into my son’s eyes? Did you see the pain I saw? Pain I caused?

You are my love, my life.

But Frank is my son and he was my love and my life long
before we met. Please understand why I chose him.

I will never forget our time together. You were so
patient with me as you explained how loving you would change my life. I would
have gladly given up ever feeling the warmth of the sun for you and would have
done anything to keep you by my side for eternity. Anything, except hurt my
child.

I’ll never forget the look in your eyes when I took
Frank’s hand and not yours.

Last night, I hungered for you so much that I had to hold
a pillow to my face to silence my cries. And every minute apart seems more
unbearable.

Come to me, Damien. We may not be able to spend eternity
together, but couldn’t we at least see each other from time to time? My life is
nothing without you.

Please, my love, come back to me. Let me love you.

I’ll always be your

Angel of the Night

“Oh, Nana.” Diana softly cried.

Running her fingertips over the extensive wrinkles in the
paper, she envisioned Damien crumpling it up in anger, then carefully smoothing
it out, refolding it exactly as her grandmother had, then saving it in his
book. How many times had he taken it out to revisit his loss? How could he
ignore what he must have considered the signs of her grandmother’s impending
madness?

Her heart broke for the man who had so gallantly charged
into the cottage to protect them last night. His soft snores mingled with
Sebastian’s. Uncurling her legs, she rose and put the book back where she’d
found it. A shiver ran down her spine.

Suddenly, her heart began to pound erratically. Something
was wrong, terribly wrong. She could feel it.

Chapter Twelve

“Where is she?” Frank Nostrum bellowed from the landing of
Angelina’s stairs.

“Frank, if you’ll just relax—”

Bounding down the stairs, he collided with her at the bottom.
When she tumbled to the floor, he moved to offer her a hand. She reached up.
Her heart sank when he shoved his hand into the front pocket of his trousers.

He glared down at her. “Terry called, sick with guilt
because she let Diana leave the mall with a man you said was her soul mate. Now
where the hell is my daughter?”

Angelina stared up at the man her son had become. While his
body was built to perfection, his soul had shrunk, leaving him heartless in his
need to destroy any he deemed undeserving of the right to share his world.

He grabbed her arm and yanked her up from the floor, then
shoved her into the dark living room. “God, you disgust me. Living like the
vampire you wish you were.”

He pushed her down onto the couch, then strode over to the
picture window facing her and flung open the heavy drapes.

“Frank, no.” Sunlight poured into the room, blinding her,
thrusting shards of pain into her eyes. She buried her face in her hands and
whimpered as the heat, more unbearable than she’d ever imagined it would be,
scorched her exposed skin. She reached for the few wafers scattered across the
end table, hoping she wasn’t too late to stop the sun from doing too much
damage, but Frank unveiled another window, sending a beam of sunlight across
the table.

She flinched away empty handed.

“You are not a vampire. When will you get that through—?”

His face twisted with horror when he turned to face her. She
knew what he saw. Saw it through his eyes. The skin on her hands and neck grew
red. “My God, Mother, what has that demon done to you? Have you been seeing him
all these years?”

“No, Frank. Please close the drapes.” She sobbed into her
hands as she dropped to the floor and crawled blindly to a spot safe from
dawn’s scalding rays. “Have mercy on me. I’m your mother.”

“My mother?” His face filled with hatred. “Have mercy? You
were willing to leave me for that monster. How dare you ask for mercy?”

“But I didn’t, Frank. I didn’t leave you.” She crouched
behind an ottoman, fear nearly immobilizing her. He took pleasure in killing
vampires. If he felt she was one, he wouldn’t hesitate to do the same, would
probably enjoy every minute of it. She had tried so hard over the years to get
him to forgive her, to show him that she truly loved him.

Frank squatted down in front of her and pried her hands from
her face. “Terry said the man ran off into the woods with Diana in his arms.
Ran faster than anyone she had ever seen. And she spoke to Diana last night.
Want to know what she said, Mother? Diana told her she had to go with this man
because you told her he was her soul mate. She mentioned a bonding. We both
know what that means, don’t we, Mother?”

Angelina glared into her son’s cold gray eyes. “You have no
idea what it means to bond with anyone.”

He grabbed her shoulders and dragged her to the window.
Ignoring her screams, he brought his face up to hers. “Diana told me she was
spending the night here. What did you do, Mother? Offer my daughter up as a
sacrifice to your demon lover?”

In her struggle to escape the searing rays, Angelina knocked
her wig off.

Frank let out a low moan and stared in horror at the gray
wig lying at their feet. “You were twenty-four. A wife. A mother. How could you
believe a vampire was capable of love? You sold your soul to a creature that
wanted nothing but your blood.”

Angelina broke free and ran to a dark corner. Frank tossed
the wig into the fire, then turned and peered intently at her face. With a
curse he strode over, yanking his shirt from his waistband. He spit onto it.

“Frank, no!”

Ignoring her, he scrubbed mercilessly at her tender skin.
Glancing down at the black smudges marring the stark white cloth, he shook his
head, then raised incredulous eyes to her. “You’ve fooled us all these years.”
A sob caught in his throat. “I always thought you looked younger than you
should, but the gray hair and the wrinkles.” His chin quivered as he turned and
glanced at the walls on either side of her. “The wrinkles.”

To her horror, every portrait she had painted over the years
was wrenched from the wall and sent, one by one, to join her wig in the fire.

“I should have known,” he spat out, wiping at his eyes with
the palms of his hands, “Dad always said you were the best at painting old
people. I used to stare at those damn paintings, convinced I could bury my fingers
in the deep wrinkles you were so, so good at.”

Angelina watched him stride to the front door. When he
turned, she cringed, expecting another outburst. Instead, he spoke so softly
she barely heard him.

“You’d better pray I find my daughter before it’s too late
for her too.”

The door slammed shut. Trapped in the corner, Angelina
watched the sunlight inch closer and closer. She whimpered when it glanced over
the toes of her shoes. When it touched the exposed skin on her ankles, she
yelped and charged through the fiery rays to the stairs.

Sitting on the edge of her tub later that afternoon, she
winced as she dabbed ointment over the blisters covering her cheeks. They would
heal quickly. Since her time with Damien, she rarely got sick and always healed
within twenty-four hours, but the smallest cut produced excruciating pain.

She’d always known that Damien’s blood running through her
veins had permanently changed her. She puttered around the house every night,
then usually slept most of the day. Cosmetics and lies about face-lifts and
chemical peels covered the fact that her body barely aged over the past forty
years. And although she ate, her hunger for Damien never ceased.

Closing her eyes, she popped a wafer into her mouth and said
a silent prayer of thanks to her deceased husband. He had accepted that
vampires existed, that they were not the demons of lore, that her heart would
always belong to one, yet had still taken tender care of her. He had opened an
all night diner and left her in charge, understanding her need to sleep during
the day. Using her job as an excuse, he had taken her place during the day so
Frank would never question her absence.

If not for her husband, she would have gone mad and lost
everything she had sought to gain by leaving Damien. And when he had died,
Diana’s love held her together.

The shrill ringing of the phone nearly sent her tumbling
into the tub. Wincing as she rose, she hurried into her bedroom and snatched up
the handset before the answering machine came on.

“Hello?”

“I just wanted to see if you changed your mind.”

A shiver of fear ran down her spine at the sound of her
son’s cold voice. “Changed my mind?”

“Don’t be coy, Mother. Tell me where she is.”

“I don’t know, Frank. I told you—”

“Tell me, goddammit. I’ve looked everywhere.” He sobbed,
tearing at her heart. “She’s all I have left.”

She almost felt sorry for him, but the pain of her burned
skin reminded her just how cruel he could be, how he might hurt Diana if he
knew that she too had the blood of a vampire running through her veins. “I
swear, Frank. She never told me where she went.” She sat on the bed and wearily
closed her eyes.

“What about this man? I know she told you about him. It
can’t be your lover. I killed him.”

She clutched the phone, still refusing to believe she’d lost
Damien. “Frank, please calm down.”

“Calm down? Calm down? My daughter is probably spreading her
legs for some monster as we speak.”

Glancing at the clock, Angelina chose not to point out that,
with the sun perched directly overhead, such a thing was highly unlikely. She
took a deep breath and began to lie to her only child. “No, Frank. You’re wrong
about this man. Diana met him at the ranch in broad daylight. He couldn’t
possibly be what you think.”

“Say it, Mother. A vampire. And why should I believe you?”
His voice grew even shriller, his words more unintelligible by his sobs. “What
happened? Did some other vampire come along and promise to return your lover to
life if you gave them Diana? It won’t work, you know. Once they die from the
sun, they stay dead, Mother. You gave up your granddaughter for nothing.
Nothing.”

“Frank.” The phone shook in her hand. “Now you listen and
listen well. I gave up that vampire for you. You. Why can’t you remember that?
I chose you, dammit. Your daughter might live under your roof, but she’s still
a twenty-five-year-old woman with the right to stay out overnight without
worrying that her father is scouring the town looking for her.”

“But—”

“No buts, Frank. Let her grow up. She met a man and decided
to spend a night with him. Period. Now if you have a problem with that, then
I’d advise you to keep it to yourself, otherwise she might decide living at
home isn’t all that great after all.” She took a deep breath and tried to calm
her racing heart.

“Swear she’s not with a vampire.” His voice finally sounded
normal.

“You have my word.” Tears burned her eyes.

“Well, at least I know it’s not your vampire. I personally
nailed him to the post and didn’t leave until his screams stopped. I know you
don’t believe me, but I’ve never forgotten his face. Those eyes haunted my
dreams, Mother. The vampire I killed was yours.”

“No.” She bit down on her knuckles. It couldn’t be Damien.
She’d know if he’d died. She’d know.

“I wish you could have heard his screams. He begged me to
spare him and cried for his mother.”

She shook her head, refusing to admit she’d heard those
screams, felt the need to answer those cries, could almost hear them even now.
But she’d been hearing a child cry for its mother ever since she lost the baby
that was hers and Damien’s.