DARKNESS THEREIN An Ellora’s Cave Publication, March 2004 Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc. PO Box 787 Hudson, OH 44236-0787 ISBN MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-84360-822-7 Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned): Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), Mobipocket (PRC) & HTML DARKNESS THEREIN © 2004 KATE HILL ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without permission. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. They are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously. Edited by Sheri Ross Carucci. Cover art by Syneca.
DARKNESS THEREIN Kate Hill
Kate Hill
Prologue
China The Late 1500’s Firelight danced across the expanse of his smooth chest. The well-defined muscles appeared to be sculpted from pale marble. His lean waist snaked to narrow hips and long, hard legs covered with a faint dusting of blond hair. Marina’s tongue flicked over his muscled ridged abdomen. Straddling him, she leaned forward, brushing his lips with a kiss while running her fingers through his waist-length hair of golden silk. “I’m afraid I can teach you no more,” she breathed, sliding onto his thighs and curling her small fist around his thick erection, rising like an ivory pillar above a field of golden hair. “You’re an expert with the staff.” Jocelyn stared deeply into her eyes. Though beautiful and a pleasure to fuck, Marina had never managed to capture his heart. She had his respect, even his gratitude. That was the most he would ever offer anyone again. Rising to her knees, she inched up his body. Jocelyn drew a deep, pleasured breath when she guided his cock into her warm, moist pussy. Her lashes lowered over her sultry eyes and her lips parted, revealing the tips of her catlike fangs. “I dare almost any of our kind to fight you and win,” she breathed, gripping his fingers and squeezing as she rocked atop him. “That’s what I want,” he said. “Yet even the finest warrior may one day fail. Why won’t you let me teach you more than just another way to fight? There’s so much I can tell you about our world, of what we really are.” “I know enough about what we are to hate the Originals who spawned and left us.” “They didn’t leave. They—” “Weren’t careful enough! The rest of us have paid for their mistakes. The less I know about our kind, the better I like it! There’s only one of us I care about. The one I’m going to kill.” She paused in her sensual motions and held his gaze. “More of us than you think would help you.” “I’ve had enough help from our kind! No, Edrik is mine and mine alone. One day I will destroy him and send his soul—if he still has one—to hell.” “And would you sacrifice your own soul along the way?” “My soul died long ago.”
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“I’m sorry for you, Jocelyn.” In a swift motion he knocked her onto the mattress and covered her body with his. Grasping both of her wrists in one hand, he held them above her head. His teeth ground with scarcely suppressed rage. “The last thing I want or need is pity! I’m grateful for what you’ve taught me, but you know love is something I can no longer give.” “I don’t want your love,” she said calmly, her eyes revealing the truth of her words. “My heart belongs to another.” “One cloistered in a monastery!” “Until he gets the need for penance out of his system.” “I can almost admire that in your absent lover. At least he knows our kind should do penance simply for existing.” She laughed, wrapping her legs around his waist. “You are so very young, Jocelyn. We are no less fit to live than anyone else. Not all of us are evil. Haven’t I at least taught you that much?” “As I said, I only care about one evil—” “I know. I know. Edrik.” “And you’d best tell your acquaintances as well as anyone else who’ll listen, that he is mine and to stay away from both of us.” “Most would agree to that. Vengeance is taken seriously among our kind. Most of us would allow you to have what’s owed you.” “You’ve been a very good teacher.” His voice softened and he released her wrists as his cock shifted into her softness. “Perhaps even better than the one who made me.” “You mustn’t hate Gamel.” Jocelyn drew a deep breath and tried ignoring the familiar ache in his chest. He should hate his maker. For a long time he had. “Without hatred, we wouldn’t know love.” His voice dripped sarcasm. “One day, Jocelyn, you might find someone who won’t walk away when you order it.” “That will be their problem,” he growled, baring his fangs. Closing her eyes, she tilted her head to the side, exposing the lovely, white column of her throat. Without further thought, Jocelyn’s fangs sank into her smooth flesh. He sucked and licked as his cock drove into her. She writhed and clung to him with her arms and legs. Sharp nails sank into his back. Desire stabbed his belly, but the feeling faded all too quickly. He’d learned long ago that sex was simply another weapon, something to be used to get what one wanted. It had gotten him Marina, the oldest vampire he’d ever known. A master of both the fighting and magical arts, he could have asked for no better teacher than the blond
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daughter of Atlantis. Her knowledge combined with that of his maker had finally given him the means to destroy the most vicious creature who had ever walked the Earth. Jocelyn was more than ready to snap off the serpent’s head—with his teeth.
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Chapter One
Massachusetts Four Hundred Years Later Charlie glanced over her shoulder, her blue eyes squinting in her lightly freckled face as she strained to see in the darkness. Not a single streetlight glowed in the quiet suburban neighborhood. Shivering from more than just the autumn chill, she hurried down a subtle bend in the road. In the distance loomed the silhouette of the old Victorian house where she worked as a caretaker while the elderly owners resided in Europe for the winter. It had been a welcome opportunity for a full time student with a part time job and she hadn’t regretted accepting the position—until now. A particularly strong breeze stirred the dry leaves lining the sides of the road. She broke into a run, wishing she’d spent the night at her friend Mara’s. Less than an hour ago, they had been sitting comfortably in the disheveled three-room apartment, munching bagel chips, watching rented films, and discussing their disheartening lack of a love life. Then Charlie had felt the obsessive, almost psychic urge to hurry home and complete her most recent painting. Thinking of her work comforted her somewhat and slowed the frantic beating of her heart along with the pace of her steps. She’d been a gifted artist since she’d picked up a pencil and brush as a child. All her life there had been certain works, inspired by a passion she couldn’t explain, that came to her like visions. With those particular paintings, she couldn’t rest until she’d finished them, nor could she part with them once they were completed. Only such a painting could force her to venture out alone so late on a starless autumn night. She’d almost convinced herself that her fear of being stalked was a result of the intense emotions regarding her painting when an unfamiliar voice, as soft as the caressing wind, spoke close to her ear, “If I were you, I’d keep running.” Shrieking with terror, she spun toward the slender, blond stranger. They stared at each other. For the briefest moment she saw uncertainty in his earthy brown eyes. Then she jabbed her knee at his groin. Unfortunately, he was quick enough to avoid the blow and grasped her shoulders, his lean fingers bruising her skin. “You’re wasting time! Get inside…” Before he finished, she slashed his shoulder with her house key, wincing as she felt the revolting rip of fabric and flesh. He loosened his grip on her, though he ignored the blood soaking the sleeve of his black shirt.
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“I’m trying to help you!” he seethed. Charlie shoved him as hard as she could. Though her strength had no effect on him, he released her. She raced toward the hill, her gaze fixed on the house as she listened for footsteps behind her. The moment she reached the end of the long, cobbled driveway, the fiend slipped from behind a neatly-trimmed bush and grasped her neck, dragging her backwards into his deadly embrace. Moonlight glinted off lava-red hair. Pasty, eel-like lips drew back over wolfish teeth as he arched his head backward, drawing a breath before biting. Without hesitation, the blond ran several steps and leapt at the demon, kicking him in the back with an extended leg. The monster lost his grip on Charlie and both of them fell onto a patch of grass. Stunned and choking from the force of the hands about her throat, Charlie looked up from where she lay. The two men fought with a viciousness she’d only seen on wild animal documentaries. Though of similar height, the blond was paler, of slighter build, and far more graceful than his redheaded opponent. As she staggered to her feet, they traded potentially fatal blows that drew blood from both. The pale one’s slender build belied a strength that held up remarkably well against the other’s thick fists. It was the redhead who fell back first, his head crashing against the trunk of an oak already stripped of leaves. “You’re hungry.” The redhead spat a mouthful of blood, a sneer on his lips. “And you’re clumsy.” “But not stupid.” The redhead ripped off the lowest tree branch and swung. Charlie winced as the blond used his forearms to block the branch, certain the blows would shatter every bone in his hands and arms. Finally the edge of the branch struck his temple. He staggered. “She’s yours! You need her more than I do,” the redhead sneered, but Charlie noticed a glint of fear in his eyes before he disappeared into the darkness of the trees. Her first instinct was to race inside and call the police. She hesitated, watching the blond and concerned by the blood dripping from his forehead. In spite of his alarming first approach, he had risked his life to help her. She recalled his initial words of warning before she’d impulsively slashed him with her key. “I’ll call an ambulance for you.” She stepped closer to him, but he shook his head. She assumed he was in shock. “You better come with me. Can you walk?” He followed her silently, swiping blood from eyes that scanned the area with the sweeping awareness of a cat. “He’s gone. Damn.” “What do you mean ‘damn?’ He could have killed us. I hope the cops catch him. Maybe I should run for the phone. You’re bleeding badly.” “Mostly from a certain woman’s key,” he quipped. She wondered how he could sound mocking when she could scarcely control her panic.
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Unlocking the heavy oak door, she stepped aside for him to pass. “Are you inviting me in?” he asked. “Unless you want to bleed to death on the front steps.” When he still hesitated, she looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Yes. I’m inviting you in. Do you need it in writing?” “No. The spoken word is fine.” She hurried to the phone, but before she picked up the receiver, his hand closed over hers. She jumped, not only from surprise, but from the odd warmth his touch shot through her, centering in her pussy. Her hand was completely covered by his large one. In spite of their size and strength, his oval-tipped fingers were long and sensitive. A rectangular black cameo set in gold adorned his pinky and a gold snake ring curled around his thumb. Regaining her composure and ignoring the sensual feelings he aroused, she looked up at him. “That guy tried to attack me. I’m calling the cops.” “Police can’t help. That’s why I’m after him.” “Are you a cop? FBI?” “You might say that.” He offered a quirky grin. “If you could spare some towels and water?” She bounded up the circular staircase to the bathroom where she gathered several fresh towels, bandages, and antiseptic. Downstairs, she followed the large drops of blood along the hallway to the lighted kitchen. Her guest stood shirtless by the stove, heating her longest carving knife over one of the burners. Though lean, with every bone and muscle showing beneath smooth skin, he was exquisitely proportioned with sculpted arms, shoulders, chest, and back. His narrow waist tapered to snake-like hips and a tightly muscled buttocks curving sensuously beneath his black silk pants. The outline of his sizeable cock poked against the crotch. Heat radiated from the knife’s blade. She winced as he pressed the scorching metal to the key cut creating a pool of blood on the tile floor. The reek of charred flesh gagged her. An eternity passed while he held the knife in place and listened to the sound of his skin frying before he rinsed the blade under cold water and dropped it in a barrel by the sink. He glanced at her, his skin even paler under the kitchen light and in contrast with the dark patches of drying blood. He took an unsteady step. How the hell was he even standing? Dropping the first aid supplies on the countertop, she brought him a chair. “Not that it’s any of my business, but I think you really need a doctor.” “I’ll be fine. Honestly. I’m sorry about the mess I’m making, and I appreciate your help more than you know.” God, she loved the sound of his voice! It was so quiet, patient, strong, the sort of voice she would trust to guide her through a dark, unknown tunnel.
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“I should be apologizing, and thanking you.” She brought him the towels and antiseptic. “Maybe if your approach hadn’t scared the hell out of me, I wouldn’t have acted so…” “Masterfully?” he supplied. The carefully chosen, if archaic, word sounded natural coming from him. “Violently.” For the next few moments, neither spoke as he finished bandaging his arm. Once he’d cleaned the blood from his face, she saw him clearly for the first time. Though not conventionally handsome, he possessed an attractive, timeless quality. His dark, wideset eyes gazed from above a long but well-shaped nose. His slim lips were almost feminine in form and looked so incredibly kissable. She hoped when he felt better he’d allow her to paint him. When his gaze suddenly fixed on her, embarrassment washed over her, as if he’d caught her peeping at him through a crack in a door. “Is there anything I can get you?” she asked. “That dog. The barking is driving me mad.” Charlie had been so concerned with her unexpected guest that she’d ignored the persistent barking of Bell, the Rottweiler who had been left in her care along with the house. “I’m afraid if I let her in she’ll go crazy. She doesn’t like strangers.” “I have a way with animals. We understand each other.” Charlie shrugged. “If you want to risk adding a dog bite to the rest of your injuries.” Bell was so anxious to inspect the house that she bounded through the back door, the floor shaking beneath the weight of her massive paws. Saliva flew from her jaw with every deep, ear-shattering bark as she leapt at the stranger in her house. “Bell, no!” Charlie shouted. The blond held out his hand and stared at the dog with his penetrating gaze. Immediately Bell dropped to a sitting position, her stubby tail swishing across the tile floor while her tongue lolled from the side of her leathery black lips. Charlie approached in awe, watching as he patted the dog’s head. “How did you do that?” “I told you. Dogs and I don’t have a problem with each other.” “You mean it’s just that red-headed maniac you have a problem with?” she asked, hoping he’d provide more details about the near-disaster outside. He held her gaze but didn’t speak. “We haven’t even introduced ourselves yet. I’m Charlie.” She extended her hand to him, recalling the feeling last time they’d touched and wondering if she’d imagined the thrill she’d experienced. She hadn’t. As soon as his hand closed around hers she felt a jolt of power that was nothing short of electric.
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He drew back, as if feeling it too. “Jocelyn.” “Now there’s a name you don’t hear often—on a man, that is.” “It was used more during the thirteenth century.” “I’ll have to remember that,” she said, thinking once again how unusual he seemed yet unable to shake the feeling that drew her to him. Psychic ability ran in her family. Her grandmother’s dreams had often come true. Her father could pull thoughts out of a person’s head easier than he could pick flowers with his arthritic back. Her mother was perhaps the most gifted of all, having aided police in finding several missing persons over the years. Charlie’s abilities were limited to the paintings she created of places and things she hadn’t yet seen, but often turned up unexpectedly. She’d never had such a reaction to a person before, and though she didn’t want to admit it, the feeling she had about Jocelyn was undeniably psychic. The phone rang and she hurried to the living room to answer it, grateful for the opportunity to leave his disturbing presence. “Charlie, thank God! You’re all right!” Her mother’s voice was shrill with relief. “I’ve been calling all night. There’s something important I have to tell you.” “Mom, you won’t believe what happened to me. I—” “Charlie, keep quiet and listen. A man named Jocelyn is coming to see you—” “He’s…He’s here, Mom.” Charlie wondered if her voice revealed her sudden terror that her life was about to change. “Good. He’s going to tell you some incredible things, but he’s not lying and he’s not crazy. Listen to him seriously. Do what he tells you and I’ll be there tomorrow night. I’ve booked the next flight to Boston.” “Someone tried to attack me tonight. Did you know about it?” “Not until this evening. I went insane trying to warn you. Jocelyn will explain it all. I have to pack for my flight then call your father in Spain.” “He’s not there on business, is he?” Even deeper fear gripped Charlie. Her father had traveled to Europe on the pretense of a business trip, but a feeling of unearthly perception told her otherwise. “No. It’s to do with the Coven. Talk to Jocelyn.” Charlie’s mother hesitated before hanging up. “I love you, honey.” “You, too, Mom. I’m glad you’re coming.” Charlie drew a trembling breath as she hung up. Turning, she crashed into Jocelyn’s bare chest. He caught her by the shoulders. The heat of his palms and the slight pressure of his body against hers was enough to tighten her nipples beneath her clinging knit top. “Your mother?” he asked, his gaze, the color of warm chocolate, fixed on hers. “She said we should talk.”
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Tossing her another odd smile, he guided her to the couch across from the fireplace. They faced one another from opposite ends. “Do you remember me at all?” he asked. She shook her head, narrowing her eyes at him. “I don’t, yet you’re not unfamiliar.” “You saw me once when you were very young, when you were first introduced to the Coven.” Charlie’s family shunned traditional religions for what some called Pagan beliefs that had been shared for hundreds of years by a small group of families belonging to their Coven. They worshipped nature, Gods and Goddesses of their own choosing, and preserved their ancestors’ memories. Children were initiated into the Coven at five years old during a special ritual followed by a celebration. Charlie scarcely remembered her initiation, except for the scent of the incense, the color of the candles and ritual robes, and the feeling of belonging to something important, something secret. Later she learned that without secrecy, they were in danger of persecution from their ignorant neighbors. As a teenager, it had infuriated her that she was forced to keep her beliefs hushed while her friends worshipped freely in the churches of their choice. Her bitterness caused difficulty throughout high school. It was only in college when she met curious, liberal Mara that she found her first best friend. She trusted Mara enough to tell her a little about the Coven. The two women hoped that one day Mara would be allowed to participate in one of their ceremonies. “Think about it,” Jocelyn interrupted her thoughts concerning Mara. Charlie tried recalling every fuzzy detail of the initiation. She remembered her parents and the other children crowded into the large, refinished attic room where ceremonies were often held. Different families participated then. Many of them had moved to various places over the years and kept in touch by mail or phone. Most of the faces Charlie scarcely remembered, but in the back of the crowd was a tall, spectral blond with eyes as dark as pooling wax. “You were there,” Charlie murmured. “At my initiation. You’re part of our Coven.” “I’ve been part of the Coven since it began.” Her heartbeat quickened as she felt such fear and denial that she broke into nervous laughter. “This isn’t a joke, Charlie. I was there when the Coven was formed. I know why it was formed, and I know that you are more important to us than you realize.” She stopped laughing and rubbed tears trickling from the corners of her eyes. “Are you supposed to be a ghost or something?” “Would a ghost bleed?” “Then what are you?”
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Chapter Two “Legends say that if properly invoked, the spirits of evil will become incarnate. Once called forth, there is little chance of returning them to the hell from which they came. The most we can hope for is to imprison the evil. Only another immortal has a chance of destroying or imprisoning such a demon.” Charlie shivered at the ominous words spoken in Jocelyn’s cultured voice. “I know those stories,” she said. “They’ve been passed down in our Coven since the middle ages. But there are no monsters or demons. Nature is what you make of it.” “And more often than not we make it evil. Long ago, before even I can recall, one of these evil souls preyed on others, surviving on flesh and blood while seeking to master the world. He killed the one who unwittingly conjured him but the conjurer, realizing the horror he’d unleashed, passed to another the power of immortality, giving him the means to imprison the evil soul.” Charlie stared into his eyes shadowed by locks of golden hair and knew her smile did little to disguise the fear that crept like a scorpion into her soul. “I can’t believe two adults are sitting here talking about demons and curses.” “Do you think what happened tonight was amusing? Do you know what he was going to do to you?” “Rape and murder?” “Only if you were lucky.” Her smile faded. “Are you trying to tell me the guy who attached me is some sort of conjured spirit, some blood-sucking vampire?” “If that’s what you want to call him.” “And I suppose you’re another immortal sent to kill him?” “You’re not taking this seriously and I couldn’t care less, except I need you.” “What for?” “You hold the weapon of his destruction.” “Me? I’m just an art student.” “This creature’s creator possessed an elixir made of a now extinct root. When the point of a weapon is anointed with the elixir, it can be used to destroy the creature. A gift was given to you by your grandmother on the day of your initiation. Though you were a child, you were told the importance of keeping the gift safe.” “You mean that funny medieval-looking ring?” “It holds what’s left of the elixir.”
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“Sure, like the stuff wouldn’t be dried up by now.” “It will not fade. It will not lose potency. It is necessary to the ritual that will destroy the vampire for all eternity.” “So they gave it to a five-year-old?” Charlie snorted with sarcastic laughter and pushed herself off the couch. He grasped her shoulders, his fingers biting into her flesh. This time she knocked his hands away and snapped, “Quit with the machoattitude.” “I need that ring, Charlie. Where is it?” She stared into his face, her heart beating wildly in her ears. He appeared so slim, graceful, almost perfect in his classical beauty, that she had nearly forgotten the strength his spirit-like image concealed. She led him to her upstairs bedroom. From the delicate glass and wood jewelry box sitting on her night stand, she removed the antique gold and ruby ring. The ring on her palm, she extended her hand to him, willing her body not to respond as his fingers brushed her skin. It was impossible. His every look and touch seemed to have a direct link to her pussy, since a man she’d just met couldn’t possibly touch her heart. “There’s really poison in that?” She shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans and stared at the length of his lashes as he focused his attention on the ring. “Deadly to him and any like him.” “So is that all you need from me?” “No.” He lifted his gaze to her. “There’s one more thing.” She waited while he resumed his examination of the ring. Finally his indifference became too much to bear. “What else do you want for goodness sake?” “You must learn the unwritten rituals told to me by the original conjuror. My memory is the only record of them possessed by the Coven. Since you’ve held the ring during the time of the creature’s escape, it’s to you that I must pass on my knowledge.” “Why don’t you just write it down?” “And destroy the tradition, you ignorant, young…” “Just chill out for a second! I don’t want any of this hocus-pocus nonsense in my life. Just take the ring and leave me alone!” The sooner he got his Greek god’s ass out of her life, the sooner she could forget the whole awful night ever happened. “He knows who you are.” Jocelyn slipped the ring onto the third finger of his left hand and walked to the hallway. Charlie followed at his heels. “It won’t take long for him to comprehend why I just happened to be here to help you tonight. Once he realizes you’re the holder of the ring and my apprentice, he’ll be back for you. He’ll try to force you to tell him all that you know and then destroy you.” “But I don’t know anything!”
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“Will you chill out?” he mocked her expression, the phrase sounding strange falling from his lips. He turned to her with a coldness in his gaze that she had yet to see but would soon become accustomed to. “Oh great!” Charlie tossed up her hands in frustration. “So one way or the other this freak is coming after me. I’m dead.” “If you’re going to die, you might as well learn what you’re dying for. We’ll start tomorrow night.” “Excuse me, but I don’t remember agreeing to any of this. I don’t want to be your apprentice!” “All right.” He shrugged, reaching the bottom of the steps and heading for the door. “I’ll just leave you alone, then. Good luck with Edrik.” It took a moment for his threat to register in her fear-muddled mind. When it did, Charlie threw herself in front of the door. “You can’t leave! This guy is going to kill me!” “The only reasons I came were to get the ring and teach you. If you have no desire for knowledge, if you want the entire history of the Coven to fade away because you don’t feel like learning, then there’s nothing more for me to do here. I have to find Edrik.” “I’m not saying I’m a wimp, but there’s no way I can fight him.” “I can teach you that as well, but you have to want it. All of it.” Gazing into the darkness of his eyes, she knew they were bound to each other by something deeper than she had ever imagined. For a moment her entire being rebelled against such a terrifying notion. Finally she drew a deep breath, folded her arms beneath her breasts, and stepped away from the door. “All right. My mother told me to do everything you said, so I guess this is all really important.” His look was sterner confirmation than words could ever be. Back in the living room, he sat silently on the floor by the fireplace. She paced behind him, hugging herself and wondering how he remained so placid when the world as she knew it was falling apart. “Why is my father in Spain?” She decided that it would be wise to gather all the information she could regarding her unbelievable situation. “He’s gone to retrieve the weapon with which Edrik can be destroyed. Long ago the Coven scattered anything of importance to Edrik’s destruction, should he ever escape his prison. I would have gone for the weapon myself, but it was more important for me to come here.” “Glad you did,” she admitted, imagining the outcome if her peaceful, middle-aged parents had come to warn her instead of Jocelyn. “Don’t be concerned,” he said. “You’ll learn to defend yourself against him—not that I’m suggesting you should try killing him yourself.” “I wouldn’t deny you the pleasure.” Her voice dripped sarcasm. 15
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“I wouldn’t allow it. Edrik is mine alone.” She stared at his straight back and the fair hair just brushing his shoulders and wondered how such beauty could conceal the coldness she felt from him. “Doesn’t any of this scare you?” She dropped to her knees beside him. He turned to her with his frigid gaze and she muttered, “I guess not.” Shivering from more than just the physical cold, she realized she’d yet to turn on the heat. “I’m freezing,” she said. Her gaze swept his bare torso, lingering over the marblelike pecs and chiseled arms and abs. Maybe she wouldn’t need the heat after all. Just looking at him turned her to molten lava. “And you must be, too. I think I have a shirt upstairs you can use. Then I’ll put on a pot of coffee.” She hurried upstairs, her mind filled with thoughts both horrible and wonderfully sexual. When she returned, a fire sparkled in the hearth. She smiled, enjoying its warmth as she sat beside him. “I love fires,” she said. “I just never bother building them.” She handed him a black silk shirt left by Mark, a friend from class. Though he seemed nice enough and was attractive in a conventional sort of way, Charlie had been trying to keep her relationship with Mark limited to casual dating. Mara thought she was crazy. She said his football player’s body alone should be enough to warrant at least one quickie. Charlie wanted a different kind of relationship than a man like Mark could give. He was a clean-cut business major, a true conformist. She knew she would never really be comfortable around him. She longed for a man who would share her deepest desires and most wicked fantasies. She wanted a companion, a lover, someone she could trust with her heart. Jocelyn took the shirt from her. She sighed with disappointment as he shrugged it on, concealing his sculpted physique. As she watched his elegant fingers do up the gleaming black buttons, she wished he’d touch her again. “It belongs to a friend,” she explained about the shirt. “I didn’t ask.” Feeling silly, she watched the fire, seeing a hundred new paintings in every movement of the flames and remembering how desperately she’d wanted to complete the painting in the studio upstairs. Though the almost magical inspiration still urged her toward work, the events of the night had weakened a bit. It was nearly twenty minutes later that she decided to finish the painting. Stretching her cramped legs, she stood, regretting leaving the warmth of the fire and the company of the strange yet compelling man beside her. “I have a painting to finish,” she said. “Yes. From what I’ve heard, you’re a very good artist. I’d like to see your work.” “Follow me.”
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When they reached the attic room that served as Charlie’s studio, she felt comfortable for the first time that evening. In the midst of her work, she was once again worthwhile and not ignorant as Jocelyn had called her earlier. Walking to her CD player, she switched on the soft, New Age music. The flute and hushed drumbeats soothed her, pushing her into the fantasy world her studio always became for her. Her most recent work, stacked two and three canvases deep, lined two of the walls. The most coveted of her creations, the ones she considered spiritually inspired, were arranged carefully on the wall closest to her easel, laden with her most recent work-inprogress. “These are just some still life works, but there’s a nice landscape…” she started to explain, but he walked past her directly to the most intimate of her collection. She bristled with anger. “Sorry if the others are too boring for you, and what you’re looking at happens to be very personal to me!” “I’m sorry,” he murmured, though his gaze remained fixed on a group of paintings she had spent hours creating without the slightest difficulty. She’d clearly seen every shape, sunset, building, and person. Though not a historian of any kind, she painted costumes and places as accurately as if she’d been there. In her mind she had been there, observing in a trance-like state and recording all she saw with her pencil and brush. Jocelyn continued, “It’s just that these are so real. I’ve been to each of these places and seen these people. I lived in that house. The Coven met in that clearing amidst those trees. Looking at this painting, I can almost smell the ritual fire again.” “It’s the fireplace downstairs,” she said, not wanting to admit she was any more connected to this man than she already felt. “I was told you inherited your family’s gift of vision.” “But I usually paint foreshadowing of places I’ve yet to see. Why would I see your life?” “Why does your mother see the location of others? Why can your father speak without words? Why—” “Is the sky blue and the mountains high?” she snapped. “This is too weird for me.” For the next several moments she watched as he admired her paintings. It must have felt awkward for him to see his experiences strewn across canvases painted by a woman born centuries after he’d walked in the halls and temples she depicted. “You’re lucky to have such talent.” He finally turned to her. She managed a nervous smile as she approached her easel that was draped with a paint-stained sheet. “I’m not finished with this yet. Would you like to see it anyway?” He nodded. As she lifted her hand to the sheet, she was surprised to find herself trembling. She never usually showed anyone her unfinished work, but this painting was nearly complete and he was the only person she’d ever met who truly appreciated her most treasured works. She lifted the sheet, revealing the portrait of a girl no more than seven years old seated in an old-fashioned, high-backed wooden chair. Her lashes were lowered to 17
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round, fair-skinned cheeks as she concentrated intently on the needlework in her lap. Her flaxen hair was wound into thick braids framing her innocent face. “She’s my favorite.” Charlie smiled at the picture. “I’m finishing the background tonight.” She turned to him for some kind of reaction. He stared at the painting, his expression unreadable except for his dark eyes glistening with unshed tears, like wax beneath a flame. “I’m thinking of calling her Bridget,” Charlie said, unsure of how to react to his apparent distress. Should she cover the painting again? “Sybil would be more appropriate, but it’s your decision. After all, you are the artist.” He drew a deep breath, the moisture fading from his eyes as if it had never been. “She’s lovely. You’re a wonderful artist.” “Did you know her?” He nodded. “Long ago. I won’t keep you any longer. I’m sure you have work to do.” “I’ll get some sheets for one of the guest rooms and you can go to bed, if you want.” “Don’t bother. I’m leaving for a short time. You needn’t wait up for me.” “What if Edrik comes back?” “He won’t return tonight. Don’t worry. I wouldn’t leave if you weren’t safe.” “Where are you going?” she called, but he was already halfway down the steps. She reached the front door just as it closed behind him. As she ascended the attic steps, the phone rang. “What now?” Charlie muttered, rushing to pick up the receiver. “Hello?” “I thought you were going to call me?” Mara scolded from the other end of the line. “I’ve been worried sick that you got abducted or hit by a car or something!” “I’m sorry I forgot to call, but you’re not going to believe the night I had.” Charlie briefed her friend on most of the night’s events, including Jocelyn’s rescue but excluding the reasons behind his actions. Instinct told her that the Coven’s secret must be kept. No one, not even her closest friend, should learn of Jocelyn and Edrik’s true identities. Besides, if she told the truth, she doubted even someone as open-minded as Mara would believe her. Now that Jocelyn’s solemn presence was gone from the house, Charlie doubted her own sanity. “So this guy’s an old family friend?” Mara asked. “Sounds kind of weird. Is he cute?” “Yeah.” Charlie couldn’t repress her smile as she thought of Jocelyn’s dark, sensual eyes and sleek body. “He’s good-looking.” “As good as Mark?” Mara thought Mark should have a career as a romance cover model. “He’s different from Mark. More…sophisticated.” 18
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“How old is he?” Charlie opened her mouth to reply but suddenly realized she had no idea how to answer. She took a guess at the age Jocelyn might have been when he’d become immortal. “Thirty-seven or thirty-eight.” Mara was silent for a moment. Finally she said, “Charlie, by that age they have trouble keeping it up for longer than twenty seconds.” “Isn’t that generalizing?” “I don’t understand you. You have this young, gorgeous guy like Mark all over you and—” “I told you that Mark and I don’t have nearly enough in common for me to ever be serious about him.” “So what do you think you have in common with this Jocelyn?” Charlie wanted to say, I’ve seen his past. When he touches my hand with his fingertips, I get more of a thrill than when Mark kisses me. If she carried on like that, Mara might really think she was crazy. Maybe she was. “Talk to me after you meet him,” Charlie said. “I can’t wait. When’s good for you?”
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Chapter Three Jocelyn stood outside, staring up at the lit attic room, knowing Charlie was there working on that painfully accurate portrait. His only reminders of Sybil had been his memories. Though old, their strength hadn’t faded. Seeing her dependent, innocent, charming face depicted so perfectly in the inspired strokes of Charlie’s brush had affected him more intensely than he thought possible. He waited until the moon rose high in the sky and the lash of the rain-spiced autumn wind became uncomfortable on his cold skin. Glancing disgustedly at the borrowed silk shirt, he felt encompassed by the other man’s scent, part natural skin scent, part expensive cologne. He could almost picture the young, arrogant, boy-nextdoor egotist. He was probably a business major who just won a football scholarship. American football. “I detest football,” Jocelyn snapped as he turned from the house. It wasn’t just his image of the other man’s character that irritated him, but the good chance that he was Charlie’s lover. The girl was far too young for him and much too innocent, but he desired her anyway. It had been literally ages since a woman had stirred him so. His cock swelled just thinking about her firm breasts encased in the clinging top she wore. Her legs, beautifully shaped in her jeans, looked powerful, like the martial artist he knew her to be. He knew all the facts about her, but that hadn’t prepared him for his reaction to the woman. “Forget it!” he snarled. “You can’t think about her or anyone in that way. Ever.” Having arrived in New England quickly, he hadn’t yet found the time to check into the hotel room where he’d forwarded his luggage. Less than an hour later, he had discarded the silk shirt and showered in the antiseptic white tile bathroom. When he’d finished, he stood over his single bag of clothes and toiletries sitting on the bed in the typically austere hotel room. Though he noticed every detail from the rough blue carpet to the way the window didn’t completely close in spite of housekeeping’s best efforts, his surroundings didn’t matter to him. Nothing mattered except Edrik. Cursing, he examined his injured arm and scraped knuckles. He wanted to destroy Erik utterly. So far he’d only succeeded in engaging him in a useless street brawl. Jocelyn dressed in iron-colored trousers and a matching sweater. He slipped on steel-toe boots. While not the most attractive footwear, they were effective weapons. For years he’d imagined using those boots to kick Edrik’s glistening sharp teeth down his throat. Tonight he’d nearly had the chance, but unfortunately Edrik had been right. Jocelyn was hungry from traveling day and night to reach Charlie. Moving by daylight was draining enough, but he hadn’t the time or inclination to seek the nourishment crucial to his survival, particularly if he was to compete with Edrik. 20
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Fortunately, at the moment he was in the mood to take what he needed. In the rain, Tremont Street felt slick and wet beneath his boots as he followed the collective throb of mortal hearts beating in time to overly loud music. The individual pulses randomly fluctuated when each was excited by too much alcohol, drugs, or impending sexual encounters. Every now and then he caught the scent of other vampires. Like the rogue he was, he didn’t seek them out, and they left him alone. Most vampires were social creatures and felt some comfort knowing others were close by. Not Jocelyn. He only saw the presence of his kind as another sign of danger lurking beneath society’s benign exterior. Jocelyn slipped past security and into the glaring, noisy mass of blood-warmed flesh where he waited for a meal to approach him. One always did. She was tall, dark-haired, pale-eyed, and wore a low-cut black dress that just brushed her lean thighs. Her features were small, catlike, and what some might consider attractive. Jocelyn didn’t care if she looked like the back end of a defecating warthog. Pleasure wasn’t on his mind. Food was. “You look a little lost.” She stared into his eyes, her teeth biting her red-painted lower lip in a manner meant to be seductive. “I’m just looking.” “Cute accent.” She brushed his arm with her shoulder then the points of her small breasts. “Looking for what?” He smiled when she took his hand and touched the ruby Coven ring. “Nice ring.” It took all his control not to laugh aloud. How many times had she used this approach on unsuspecting, self-absorbed fools who actually believed she was attracted to them? He was not a fool but he was certainly willing to play along with her charade until he got what he wanted. “It’s very old.” He stroked her hair, watching the perfumed strands slide between his fingers. “What lovely hair.” She flung him another sultry look as she grasped his wrist and guided him out of the crowded club. “It’s too noisy in here to talk.” “Far too noisy.” Outside the rain had subsided to a drizzle. Fog warped the headlights and street lights to widespread glares in the dimness. Her high heels clinked on the sidewalk as they turned down a narrow alley wedged between two brick buildings. “Did you only have talking in mind?” he asked. “Not only.” She tugged down the front of her dress, freeing her bare breasts. Her nipples slid across his chest as she pressed her body closer to his. Her fingers traced his cock through his pants before she cupped his balls and squeezed.
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The whole seduction scene was to distract him from the man approaching him from behind. Jocelyn waited until the knife pressed against his rib cage and the woman stepped away. “A threesome. How exciting,” Jocelyn said. “Shut up, dickhead!” The man dug the blade deeper into Jocelyn’s side, nearly drawing blood. As the woman searched his pockets, her partner grew agitated. His pulse echoed in Jocelyn’s ears. Anxiety emanated from his entire body. “Hurry up, bitch!” he snapped. “Take whatever he’s got!” “What the hell is this? No wallet. No credit cards. All he’s got is that fucking ring!” “Take it and let’s get out of here.” She reached for Jocelyn’s hand and attempted to pull off the ring. He grasped her wrist until bone snapped. She screamed and the knife plunged into Jocelyn’s flesh. He tossed her aside where she landed, weeping and cradling her wrist, on the tar. “Motherfucker!” The man backed away from Jocelyn, reaching for the gun hidden in his filthy satin jacket. Jocelyn’s hand closed over his and squeezed. He ignored the man’s kicking feet and free hand that clawed and punched with fear-inspired strength. Once Jocelyn claimed the gun, his booted foot struck the man’s mid-section, leaving him winded against the side of the building as he stared up with dumfounded eyes. “Guns are such random weapons.” Jocelyn examined the dark metal with mock interest. “Never can tell what will happen with them. So many accidents. People getting caught in the crossfire, or so I’ve heard.” He aimed and squeezed, the shot just missing the woman’s head. She shrieked, her bare breasts heaving with each frantic breath, her eyes wide with terror. “See what I mean?” Jocelyn turned to the man and shrugged. “Now, was she lucky, or has she been shown mercy? One can never tell. Knives are another matter. They’re precise. Their aim is true as my bleeding side so proves.” He stepped closer to the man who struggled to his feet. “I hope you die, motherfucker! I hope you bleed to death!” “That won’t happen, I’m afraid. You’re going to help me see that it doesn’t.” The man turned and ran, but Jocelyn fired the gun, shattering his victim’s kneecap in a shower of blood and bone. A piercing, pain-engulfed scream ripped through the night. Jocelyn stooped beside the thief. His bloodstained fingers brushed away the man’s tears. “Don’t be afraid. This part will be quite painless.” “Get away from me! I don’t want to die! Oh, God help me…” The man’s broken voice sounded almost childlike. Behind him, Jocelyn heard the woman’s whimpering cries and her muttering of prayers she hadn’t uttered in years.
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Jocelyn stared into the man’s eyes until they slipped shut, sending him into a dream world, probably on a beach somewhere surrounded by smutty women all infatuated with him. Taking the limp wrist and biting, Jocelyn felt the warm, salty blood slide over his tongue and down his throat. He stopped just short of killing the man. Then he turned his crimson gaze to the woman crawling backwards out of the alley, her hair disheveled around her ghostly face. He stooped beside her, his fingers biting into her arms. “I told you it’s very old.” He stared into her eyes as he tugged the front of her dress back in place, covering her breasts. “Far too old to be given up so easily. When I leave, you won’t recall any of this. Neither will your friend. All you will remember is trying to steal and murder one fool too many.” The screech of sirens rounded the corner. Moments later the cruiser stopped in front of the blood-splattered ally that held the unconscious bodies of two battered youths and the unspoken memory of an abomination gone as if it had never been. Crouching in a parking lot several blocks away, Jocelyn stared at his hands, the drying blood dark as the ruby against his pale flesh. It seemed no matter how many years passed, people never changed. Some always lived by preying on others, no different than the creature he had become. Headlights of a passing car reflected off the Coven ring. Jocelyn closed his eyes, his memories enriched by the blood still warming his throat.
***** The ruby reflected liquid shadows in the flames of the torch held high in Jocelyn’s alabaster hand. In the night wind, his yellow hair mingled with his horse’s white mane as he stared at the bloodstained, dirt-encrusted raiders in suits of leather and mail. They dragged the dead bodies of slave traders into a heap. The few slavers who still lived sat chained on their knees between Jocelyn and their slaughtered companions. Jocelyn’s renegades had fought the traders earlier, taking their cargo of stolen goods, including several young women and children. The victims had looked upon Jocelyn with the same terror as they had the slavers. He knew they feared him because in his eyes they saw the fate from which he’d rescued them. Behind the coldness of his expression burned hatred and despair for which there was no comfort. Still, his years of submission had taught him the discipline to direct his hatred. Mercy was foreign to him, but revenge was not. After setting the slaves free, the gold and jewels were divided among the renegades who fought each other for the riches almost as violently as they’d fought the traders. Only Jocelyn took what he wanted without hindrance. His outlaws knew better than to tempt his fiendish wrath. Better to allow him to vent it on the traders. His heart throbbing with vengeance, Jocelyn watched as the last body was dumped into the pile. He made his stallion half-rear. The torch waving in his hand, he shouted to the captive slave traders cowering before the animal’s thrashing hooves. 23
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“You’ve been left alive,” he said, a vicious edge to his lightly accented voice. “Feel lucky, as you belong dead and burning in a pile of flesh as you wanted to scorch the flesh of women and children with your perversions!” Jocelyn threw the torch into the mass of corpses. Even his renegades stepped back, bile rising in their throats as the stench of burning flesh permeated the night. Jocelyn scarcely noticed the odor, but saw in the rising smoke the illusion of the life he might have had, if not for men like these. “Burn you bastards! Cook like the pigs you are!” Jocelyn snarled, his teeth glistening sharp in the firelight. The slave traders closest to him drew back, fighting the chains holding them. Their captor suddenly looked like a fiend from hell with his devil’s teeth and eyes shining red as the ruby on his hand. He turned his glare to them, shouting above the sound of the growing fire, “At dawn you will be allowed to go, but I order you to tell others of your kind what I’ve done here. Tell them what will happen to them should their paths cross mine!” “Who are you?” one of the slavers choked out. Jocelyn’s gaze fixed on his. “Retribution.” Turning from the fire, Jocelyn kicked his mount toward the woods. “Where are you going?” shouted his second-in-command, a burly, raven-haired former soldier. Most of Jocelyn’s raiders were professionally trained but discovered raiding to be more profitable than serving their monarch. The man nudged his horse alongside Jocelyn’s. “Away.” “When will you be back?” “Later.” “Will we be moving on?” “Not now.” “When?” the man growled, obviously nervous about remaining anywhere near the site of their destruction. Jocelyn’s frigid gaze met his. “When I say.” Before the man could speak again, Jocelyn kicked his mount to a gallop. He didn’t doubt his men would consider fleeing, but they wouldn’t follow through. They knew better. Jocelyn would hunt them down and have their blood. The palace was nearby. In it awaited a lady, far too young for her ancient husband—or so it seemed. She’d spent the past several centuries marrying money. To amuse herself, she studied swordplay with the best masters. In skill, she was almost untouchable and in physical pleasure she was most discerning, the perfect combination for a man with Jocelyn’s talents and desires. Of late, they’d become each other’s willing teachers, but it was almost time for Jocelyn to move on. Tonight would be their last together. She could teach him no more. It was late when he crept through her chamber window. He knew she’d caught his scent long before his arrival, just as he’d caught hers. It was deep and sexual, like incense. She smiled at him from the bed. Only her long, black hair draped her slender body. A pillar candle burned on the table by her bed. “I thought you might not come after all,” she said. 24
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He shrugged and approached. Placing his sheathed sword aside, he sat on the edge of the bed and removed his boots. She knelt behind him, slipping her arms around him and tickling his ear with her tongue. “There’s blood on your clothes,” she observed. “Another secret that you refuse to tell me?” “Yet you still continue to ask.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “But it’s so much fun to try guessing.” She tugged off his robe and ran her hands over his lean chest. Her long nails scraped his nipples as he hauled her onto his lap. Gazing into his eyes, her thoughts touched his, but he locked her out. “Damn you to hell,” she snarled, sinking her fangs into his mouth as she kissed him. The taste of his blood inflamed them both. His cock stirred, poking against her pussy. His trousers blocked the meeting of their flesh. Impatient, she slid between his legs and tugged them off. Jocelyn raised himself on his arms and allowed her to remove the trousers. “Umm,” she purred, her arms slipping under his knees. She stroked his thighs as her full, moist lips hovered over his erection. She blew on it, her breath hot against the sensitive head. Jocelyn closed his eyes, willing his body to respond. Performing on command was a skill he’d mastered long ago. Taught by the best instructors of passion, he had yet to meet anyone, human or vampire, with his powers of seduction. Sex could be used to barter for just about anything. Men were as susceptible as women, though Jocelyn never used his wiles on them. He’d been forced into such passions long ago, and the memories disgusted him. To Jocelyn women were the ultimate beauty. Their skin, faces, breasts, bottoms, everything about them seemed made for sex. The only pleasure brought by the change was the ability to bed them as often as he liked for any purpose that he wished without the fear of creating offspring. Children suffered far too much in the world. They were too precious, too innocent to sully in such a wicked place. This pleasure without consequence was a small reward for becoming a demon. With his cock buried deep in a hot, slick cunt, Jocelyn could almost forget anger, revenge, hatred. Sex was mind-numbing. Long ago he’d learned to block out all else when concentrating on the act. The lady’s mouth engulfed his cock. Her tongue lapped the head and traced the ridge on the underside. Her catlike incisors nipped the smooth, velvety flesh. Jocelyn drew deep, even breaths. His fingers gripped the blankets and furs on the bed. Briefly, he wondered what sex would be like if he loved the woman. Jocelyn had only loved one person in his entire life, and she’d been as far removed from a lover as the sun was from the moon. He’d had more lovers than he could count, but he’d never had love. Why should he want it, even for a moment? His life was one of violence and destruction. He wanted it that way. Love had no place in his world. Grasping the lady by the shoulders, he dragged her onto the bed. “Fill me.” She clutched his arms, her nails leaving imprints on his flesh. Her dark eyes bore into his. A droplet of his blood still lingered on her bottom lip. He licked it away before plunging his tongue into her mouth. She sucked it, clutching his buttocks. Pulling away from her, he stood and searched through his clothes for a tiny vile filled with scented oil.
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“What are you doing?” she asked, raising herself onto her elbows. “Lie back.” She did as he asked, staring at him with curious eyes as he knelt beside her on the bed and uncorked the vile. The scent of eucalyptus filled the room. He drizzled the oil between her breasts and into her navel. Placing the vile aside, he begin rubbing the oil into her skin. He massaged her small breasts, carefully avoiding the nipples until they stood out, hard with anticipation. His thumbs stroked them. He pinched gently and she gasped. “How I’ll miss you,” she breathed. He moved to her belly, rubbing in the oil. His hands were slippery with it as he kneaded her thighs and calves. Finally he knelt between her legs and licked her clit. His tongue rolled over it in long, gentle strokes that soon had her shivering with need. As she hovered on the verge of climax, he covered her, plunging his hard cock into her drenched pussy. He pulled out to the tip and thrust in, long and slow. “Oh!” She clung to him, her heels sinking into the backs of his thighs, her head arched against the pillow, exposing her throat. Jocelyn’s pulse quickened at the thought of tasting her blood and her orgasm combined. Still, he thrust steadily, holding his pleasure at bay. As a mortal slave, he’d been prized for his stamina. As a vampire he was unmatched. The lady’s warm juices bathed his cock. Like mortals, their bodies heated as passion grew to a near-painful state. She turned, nipping his wrist, the taste of his blood pushing her over the edge. Even as she throbbed and writhed, he continued thrusting. His pulse pounded in his ears. His breath felt raw in his throat as he continued his unbreakable rhythm. Orgasm followed orgasm, leaving her drenched and panting beneath him. Her last climax built slowly. Jocelyn’s chest heaved. He trembled, his breath coming in raw pants. As she came, he stopped, his forehead pressed against hers, his eyes closed as he willed his cock to obey. He slipped from her, still rock-hard and unsatisfied. As he dressed, his pulse racing, she turned to him with half-closed eyes and whispered, “You were my best student.” “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be leaving yet,” he replied, leaping onto the window ledge and disappearing without looking back.
***** Charlie awoke early the next morning, anxious and fearful to discover if last night’s events had been real or merely a sensational dream. She washed and dressed in jeans and a cropped, fitted sweater that flattered the firm abs she’d spent hours of crunches shaping. She braided her dark hair down her
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back then glanced at herself in the old-fashioned full-length mirror in the master bedroom. “I’m not so bad,” she said to herself. “I guess he could be attracted to…Charlie, you must be losing your mind.” Sighing, she gathered her laundry bag to bring to the basement. Even before she reached the bottom of the steps, she smelled coffee brewing. Her entire body tensed. He’s really here! She peered around the corner of the kitchen door, still wondering… Jocelyn glanced at her from where he stood by the picture window behind the round glass table. His eyes were as penetrating in daylight as they had been in the dark. The coal-colored pants and sweater he wore only made his skin seem paler in the glare of the sun. Mark’s shirt was folded beside her coffee cup on the table. “You’re up early,” she commented, clenching the laundry tighter in her arms. “How are you feeling this morning? Your arm must be really sore.” “I’m fine.” “Sure.” She raised her eyes to heaven. “You’d better check it out because you can get an infection.” He pushed up the sleeve of his sweater, revealing a long, red, partially healed scar. Her gaze swept the length of his lean forearm and the muscular curve of his biceps. Her pulse quickened and she cleared her throat. “I forgot. You’re supernatural.” She tried sounding nonchalant. “You don’t have to pretend all this is common to you. I know this isn’t easy, but eventually everything will seem very real to you and you’ll understand your importance in this matter.” “Thanks, but I’m not what you call important. I’m just a woman looking for a decent life. I want my artwork, maybe get married someday, have a few kids…” “You will be the holder of the Coven’s most secret incantations.” “Sure.” She turned from him and hurried to the basement, muttering to herself, “The only reason I’m letting you stick around is so that maniac Edrik won’t kill me. I don’t want to be the holder of the most secret incantations. I can’t even pass my math exams, for goodness sake!” After throwing her clothes in the washing machine, she stood with her hands braced against the white metal, feeling the churning of the clothes as she inhaled the scent of floral detergent. The doorbell rang. She raced to answer it, grateful not to be alone with Jocelyn anymore. Mara stood outside, holding a brown bag and wearing her nosiest smile. “Bagels,” Mara explained, pointing to the bag. “Fresh.” “Come on in, girlfriend.” Charlie doubted she’d ever been so glad to see Mara’s lightly made-up, slightly freckled face and wide green eyes. She wore her usual cotton
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tights and black mini-dress with an assortment of silver charms and chains, looking more like a stereotypical Coven member than Charlie did. “Sorry to barge in so early, but I had to meet him. Is he still here?” Mara whispered in Charlie’s ear. “Is he ever,” Charlie muttered, leading the way to the kitchen where Jocelyn hadn’t moved from his place by the window. He turned his attention to the young women as Charlie made a hasty introduction. “Hi.” Mara smiled, her gaze raking Jocelyn from head to toe. He nodded amiably as Mara shoved the bagels at Charlie and stepped closer to Jocelyn. “So you’re a friend of Charlie’s family?” “You could say that.” “Cool accent. Are you visiting long?” Charlie tried to repress her laughter. All Mara’s talk about Jocelyn’s age faded as she looked into his gripping, exotic face. His tall, near-perfect body didn’t hurt, either. Charlie could already tell by the way Mara twirled a strand of her long, red hair between her fingers and stared intently into his eyes that she was fascinated. “Oh, a sesame bagel.” Charlie searched through the bag. “My favorite.” “It was the lust…last! The last one!” Mara looked properly embarrassed as she turned away from Jocelyn who continued staring silently out the window. “Sounded like an idiot,” Mara muttered from between clenched teeth as she poured herself a cup of coffee. “Told you he’s good-looking,” Charlie whispered, playfully shoving her friend’s shoulder as she brought the bagels and butter to the table. Mara remained with them for an hour during which Jocelyn moved away from the window only long enough to briefly engage in their conversation when asked a question. As soon as Mara left for work, he focused his complete attention on Charlie. “We have to talk. There are some things I’ll need you to do,” he said. “There are also some things you’ll need to do, like find a new personality. Don’t you laugh or talk just for the hell of it, or does every word out of your mouth have to have a purpose?” “You’ll have to quit your job and drop your classes. We’ll need to spend every moment possible on your training. We may not have much time.” “Excuse me? Drop my classes and quit my job? This is the twentieth century, buddy. How am I supposed to live?” “If you don’t listen to me, you won’t have to worry about living much longer. It’s understandable that you’re having trouble accepting this. Everything will be better when your mother gets here. She’ll convince you if I can’t.”
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“You know, I’m really starting not to like you.” She folded her arms across her chest and glared, wishing she could kick his pompous ass out of the house but terrified of what might happen if she did. “You don’t have to like me, but you do have to trust me. You have to know that whatever happens, as long as you’re my student, you’ll be safe from Edrik.” In spite of her anger, she found herself once again entranced by the sound of his voice and the subtle power in the movement of his sleek body. What would it feel like to be enfolded in those long, sinewy arms? How would her breasts feel pressed against his lean chest? When he made love, would it be slow and gentle, or rough and passionate as the expression in his dark eyes? He said he’d protect her, but not for the reasons she wished. His concern was with the Coven, not with her. Shaking her head clear of her romantic fantasies, she turned on the radio as she washed the breakfast dishes. As she placed them in a plastic rack, he picked up a dishtowel and dried them. They worked silently, listening to the soft rock station until the news broke in. “Police are still looking for suspects in the attack of a young man and woman on Tremont Street last night. Apparently both were beaten and one was shot in the leg. Neighbors alerted the police when they heard gunshots…” Charlie switched off the radio, shaking her head. “What a sick world we live in. I guess they were lucky to be left alive.” “Apparently.” “I hope they get whoever did it. People like that are always on some kind of power trip.” “Could be. Or imagine this, the two of them spent each night of their lives waiting to lure victims into that back alley, rob them, and kill them. Now do they seem so innocent and deserving of your sympathy?” “It figures you’d make criminals out of victims. Tell me, were you on Jack the Ripper’s side way back when?” He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, a smile tugging at his fine lips. “Perhaps I was Jack the Ripper.” “That’s not funny. I’m going upstairs to finish my painting. Make yourself at home, not that I have to tell you. You’ve done it already.” Jocelyn watched her trudge out of the room, her braid swinging behind her trim back. Let her continue with life as she knew it—at least for the next few hours. Everything would be changing for her, and for him, quickly enough. He left the house and circled it from front to back, noting every window, every door, and wondering why he hadn’t done so the night before. Usually he was far more careful, but he hadn’t been at his best last night. After his encounter in the alley, he felt completely refreshed. If only Edrik wasn’t so far away, he’d prove who had the advantage now.
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“No use thinking about it,” he muttered from where he stood on the sidewalk in front of the house, gazing up at the window of Charlie’s studio. “‘Bout what?” He glanced around then down at the pony-tailed little girl in patched jeans and a play-dirtied T-shirt. She carried a piece of pink jumbo chalk in one hand and a frayed Chinese jump rope in the other. “Excuse me?” he said. “Thinking ‘bout what? You said you was thinking.” “Were thinking,” he corrected. “Nothing of importance. What are you doing out here by yourself?” “Playin’. My mama’s workin’ in that house.” She pointed a pudgy finger to the brick mansion across the street. Through one of the open picture windows, Jocelyn saw a young housekeeper vacuuming. “I gotta play outside ‘til she’s done. I’m bored, though. Got no friends from school around here.” “I see. That can be a problem.” “Is Charlie home? She plays hopscotch with me.” “Charlie’s working. Perhaps she’ll come out later.” The girl looked down at her shoe and kicked a stone, a shy expression on her face. “Do you play hopscotch?” A smile tugged at the corners of his solemn mouth. “No. I’ve never played hopscotch.” “Oh.” She turned dejectedly away. “But I’m sure I can learn.” She trotted back beside him, smiling with the radiant trust of youth. Taking his hand, she guided him to the center of the driveway. He watched as she painstakingly drew the hopscotch blocks with her pink chalk, her brunette ponytail falling to one side, exposing her thin, fragile nape. Bent there, she could have been a child from hundreds of years ago. He reflected that while lifestyles had changed, so much remained excruciatingly consistent. He hadn’t time to wallow in his thoughts of the past as the girl handed him a pebble, briefly explained the rules, and dove into the game. When she grew tired of hopscotch, she showed him how to play cat’s cradle with the jump rope. “You play better than Charlie,” she remarked, glancing up with large green eyes. “Have you got kids?” “I had a daughter once, long ago.” “Is she growed up now?” He shook his head. “She died.”
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“Oh,” she said, more comprehension in her eyes than a child so young should possess. “She’s with the angels. Like my Daddy.” “Yes.” He smiled gently. “I’m sure of it.” Charlie stepped out the front door and called, “Is this a private game, or can anybody play?” “Charlie!” The girl dropped the jump rope and dragged her over to the hopscotch. “Now we can have a good game.” “I see you’ve met Trish.” Charlie turned to Jocelyn. “It’s funny, but I didn’t think a guy your age played hopscotch.” “I’d say it’s mid-life crisis, but I’m not sure when my mid-life will be.” “So you do have a sense of humor.” She tossed him a pebble. “Be prepared. I play a mean game of hopscotch.” They played until Trish’s mother called for her. She waved to Charlie and thanked her for keeping her daughter company. They drove off in an old station wagon laden with cleaning supplies, on their way to the next house where Trish would play again, outside and alone. “Poor kid,” Charlie said, shoving her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “It makes me appreciate the family I had growing up.” “A family is not something to take for granted,” he agreed. “It must be hard for you to have a family, being immortal and all.” “I try not to think about it.” “Speaking of family, we’d better get to the airport. My mother’s plane will be landing soon.”
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Chapter Four During the drive to Logan Airport, Charlie concentrated on the hectic stop-and-go traffic while Jocelyn looked silently out the window, his expression as reflective as a marble statue. “This traffic stinks,” Charlie commented. “I bet you can remember a time when there was hardly any traffic. Do you miss how it used to be?” “Each time has its own advantages and disadvantages.” “Sort of like living at home. I used to think my parents drove me crazy. Now I miss them more often than not. I’m really glad my mom’s coming.” “The two of you are close?” “Yeah.” Charlie smiled. “She’s more like a friend than a mother. Most of the time.” “You resemble her in many ways. Your coloring. Your height.” “Lots of people say that. Unfortunately I had to inherit my dad’s huge feet, but I shouldn’t complain. They’ve been a big help in karate.” She glanced at his somber face from the corner of her eye. “That was a joke.” “From what I understand, your martial arts have never been a joke to you.” “I enjoy them. My parents thought it would be good for me when I was a kid. It teaches a person so much more than just how to fight. You learn patience and what if feels like to work hard for something. Plus it keeps you in shape, but I guess I’m telling the wrong person. You know how to fight pretty well.” Not only that, he was in fantastic condition. His body so close to hers was driving her crazy. She loved the way his silky black clothes draped his sleekly-muscled frame. The scent of his cologne—or was it incense?—drove her wild. “But you’ve studied for the right reasons,” he said. “I’ve never been able to find the solace you seem to enjoy.” “I’m not fighting for my life, either. Until last night. You mentioned that you’ll teach me how to fight immortals?” “Yes. I’ll just carry on where you left off in your own training.” “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t look like you can fight as well as you do.” She glanced at his large, dark eyes, silky blond hair, and long-fingered, sensitive hands folded on his lap. “I mean, there’s more to you than what you show.” “I don’t find that insulting in the least, and I was thinking the same about you. One wouldn’t think such a beautiful, sweet-looking young woman is as dangerous as you are. I suppose it’s a double standard both of us must live with, seeing how we appear.”
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Heat rose in Charlie’s face. No man had ever told her she was beautiful, and she certainly never considered herself sweet. She prided herself in being self-sufficient and no-nonsense and God help the man who insinuated otherwise. Now here was this stranger who was going to change her entire life and his words warmed her as much as when he touched her hand. Due to the thick airport traffic, they arrived just in time to meet her mother as she stepped off the plane. An attractive woman in her late forties with short, dark hair layered about her finely chiseled face, she was similar to Charlie, as both were of average height, slim, but endowed with curves often lacking in modern, anorexic society. After embracing Charlie, she turned her gaze to Jocelyn. “Joss, don’t take this personally if I can’t say I’m glad to see you.” “Cassie, that’s perfectly understandable. This situation is grave for us all. Has there been any word from Robert?” “Damn.” Charlie sighed, feeling near tears. “Charlie?” Cassie placed an arm around her daughter. “I was hoping when you got here all this would turn out to be a joke or a nightmare.” “I’m sorry, honey,” she said. “It’s been so long that all of us thought it was a fable, except for Joss.” “Yes.” He looked over their heads to a past just beyond his reach. “To me it’s the same nightmare I hope to awaken from each day and find that Edrik never existed, but now he’s here. Again. This time he won’t just be imprisoned. This time I will destroy him.” He turned from them, trance-like, retrieved Cassie’s suitcase, and led the way to the car. On the drive home, Jocelyn sat silently in the back seat, leaving the mother and daughter chatting in the front. “How’s Mara? And that boy you’ve been seeing? Mark?” Charlie glanced in the rearview mirror. Her gaze locked with Jocelyn’s before turning back to the road. “Mara’s great. Mark and I are really just friends.” “However you like it, honey. You’re still too young to get serious about a man.” “Like I always said, career first, relationship later.” “I’d still like to meet Mark, though. Have you met him, Joss?” Cassie glanced in the back seat, her eyes probing so deeply that even Jocelyn wondered how he’d hidden so much from her over the years. “I borrowed his shirt,” he muttered. “No, I haven’t met him, but Mara’s a charming girl. An open-minded, searching kind of soul.” “That’s the gift of youth,” Cassie said. Jocelyn stared silently out the window.
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What thoughts raced behind those distant brown eyes? Charlie couldn’t begin to imagine. Was desire for her mixed up somewhere in there? Did he feel even a bit of the attraction she felt for him? An hour later, Cassie was settled comfortably in the house and Jocelyn excused himself for a walk. “We’ll be eating around six,” Charlie told him as he slipped out the door, nodding at her before he disappeared around the corner. She sighed, folding her arms beneath her breasts. “He’s so weird.” “Being what he is, it’s a wonder he’s not weirder.” Cassie unknotted the multicolored silk scarf from around her neck and tossed it over the stairway banister. “I’m sorry about all this, Charlie. I really am.” Charlie turned into her mother’s embrace, holding her tightly. “Why didn’t you tell me? We’ve always been honest with each other.” “No one ever thought it would happen. We passed down the ring for generations. We kept the staff safe for centuries. Joss was always there like a ghost reminding us that it was all true, but he appeared so seldom it was easy to forget about him when life was going on normally. When your grandmother chose to pass the ring to you, I felt sick inside. I wanted her to give it to me instead, give it to anyone else, but tradition stated the ring holder would sense who should guard it next.” “All I have to do is learn those old rituals and incantations from Jocelyn so he can kill this guy, right?” “Yes, he will. It’s what he was put on this earth for.” “That’s kind of sad, isn’t it?” She pulled away from her mother, unable to hide her compassion for Jocelyn. “For a person’s only purpose to be another’s killer?” “A person? You know he’s immortal.” “Yes. He has the power to destroy Edrik.” “He’s a vampire, Charlie. Just like Edrik. Many vampires can travel by daylight, though during those hours they’re nearly as weak as mortals. They take food as sustenance, but still need blood to survive. It keeps their power, heals their injuries, and other things we don’t have to talk about.” “What things?” Charlie’s pulse quickened. She knew what her mother was going to say, but needed to hear it. She needed to hear the man she’d been having fantasies about had a blood fetish. “Sexual things.” Cassie looked a bit uncomfortable. “Charlie, the only truths to the legends about vampires are that severe injury, such as a stake to the heart, can destroy them. They’re conjured creatures, born by a ritual spell that scientists would laugh at. A counter spell can help deter them. That spell led to another legend that a vampire can only enter a house if he is invited. The spell was placed on you at birth, so wherever you live, you’ll have to invite one in, or else it can’t step over the threshold.”
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“Mom, this is making me sick and furious at the same time. Our religion isn’t based on these old superstitions. You always taught me that casting an evil spell destroys the soul of the one who casts it. What you give out you get back. Worship nature and the all-encompassing Spirit who created it.” “That’s all true, but unfortunately all religions have their own evils. Just as Christians slaughtered non-Christians during the Inquisition, the Crusades, even the Holocaust, we must denounce an ancient evil conjured by a well-meaning but misguided founder of our own. Are you willing to help us do that?” “Yes. I am.” “Jocelyn must have already told you what you have to do.” “He said I have to quit my job and drop school this semester.” “Yes. You’ll have to go away with him for a while so that Edrik can’t track you to this house. Charlie, you’re in very serious danger.” The previous night’s attack flashed through her mind. “I know.” “You’ll be safest with Jocelyn.” “I know that, too.” She smiled, a brightness in her eyes that Cassie didn’t miss. “Charlie, trust him, but don’t fall for him.” “Me? Fall for him?” Charlie wasn’t sure if she was embarrassed by her mother’s perception or furious at herself for being so obvious. “He’s arrogant, pompous, and can be a real jerk.” “He’s handsome, too, isn’t he?” Cassie glanced knowingly at her daughter. “Honey, I was twenty-four once. I also know that look in your eyes. You’ve always appreciated men who aren’t quite ordinary, so I imagine you find Joss intriguing.” “I do not.” Charlie stood and began pacing the hallway. Under normal circumstances, she would have gladly told her mother she was attracted to Jocelyn, but she simply wasn’t ready to admit it even to herself. Images of his hands on her body and his sleek lips against hers as he plundered her mouth with his soft, perfect kisses had her heart racing. “I just don’t want to see you hurt,” Cassie said. “He’ll teach you. He’ll protect you, but that’s all. He’s not like one of us. He can’t really feel anything except hatred for Edrik, and even I can’t understand where that comes from. Usually I can feel things from people, sense things, but he’s had years of practice shielding his emotions.” “I think he can feel. I know he does.” Cassie placed her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “He can’t. How could anyone survive for as long as he has and still be able to feel?” “He cried when he looked at one of my paintings. I know it sounds ridiculous, even egotistical of me, but it’s not my work that did it. It was one of those pictures that comes to me like a vision. There were tears in his eyes when he looked at it. He told me that many of my paintings were of places he’d lived and people he’d known.”
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Cassie sighed, trying to shut out the premonition pounding on the door of her mind. “What if he can feel a little, scattered emotions here and there? He’s a vampire out to destroy another of his kind, and when he does, there’s no way to know if he’ll survive himself. This could be the end for him, too, and if you ask me it’s a blessing. He might not be as evil as Edrik, but he’s still unnatural. He survives on blood. Where does he get that blood, Charlie? Think about it before you get too attached to him.” Charlie looked away from her mother and chewed her bottom lip. Where did he get his blood? Suddenly she remembered the radio announcer had stated two youths were found, injured, on Tremont Street. It had been Jocelyn who’d said they were in an alley. Unless he’d been there, how had he known? The two had been beaten and shot. Could the same man who wept at her painting and played hopscotch with Trish truly be the monster who attacked the youths the night before? Not attacked, he’d said they lured people into the alley to rob and kill them. If Jocelyn was forced to take blood, did he discriminate and only take from those who he felt deserved it? Nevertheless, who was he to judge? “Charlie, are you all right?” “Sure.” She shook her head clear. “Go up to your room, Mom. I’ll get dinner ready.”
***** Dinner was spent quietly amidst the crisp scent of freshly cooked vegetable stir fry, the comfortable fragrance of warm, buttered drop biscuits, and the sound of Bell steadily chewing a rawhide bone beneath the table. Outside the autumn wind punched the shutters, but it was inviting compared to the uneasy feeling and strained bits of conversation initiated by Cassie and met with either distracted replies from Charlie or Jocelyn’s brief, polite responses. Cassie didn’t need her psychic ability to sense the tension between Jocelyn and her daughter. They sat across from each other, picking at their food and glancing at one another with curiosity and apprehension. “I hope dinner is all right,” Charlie said to him. “We’re vegetarian.” “So I gathered.” “There’s something about killing and eating an animal that bothers me,” Charlie continued, staring at him. “Not that I’m saying everyone has to agree with me. It’s just how I feel.” “I tried raising you to be open-minded, honey,” Cassie interjected. Charlie ignored her mother’s subtle warning as she stared at Jocelyn and continued, “How do you feel about eating animals?” “Flesh has never been a fascination of mine.”
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“How about blood?” “Charlie!” Cassie snapped. “What kind of conversation is this? Do I have to reprimand you like you’re three years old?” “This is about me, isn’t it?” Jocelyn placed his fork down, his dark gaze focused on Charlie’s furious one. “Give the man a gold star!” “I told you what I was from the start, Charlie. Perhaps the shock of last night is finally wearing off.” “I was not in shock last night, and I’m sure you weren’t. You were nosing around Boston demolishing a couple of innocent kids!” He smiled without a trace of humor. “Innocent kids with knives, guns, and fingers so slippery they could pick up a polished stone in an oil slick.” “So that makes it okay for you to use them as a nightcap?” “I’ve never heard it put quite that way, but yes, I think that makes it as okay as it’s ever going to be. I told you what I was the moment we met, Charlie.” “You said Edrik was the monster and you were after him. You never said anything about being a monster yourself! And to think you were outside this morning playing with that little girl!” She repressed a shudder. “Horrible.” His smile faded to a look of utter frigidity as he stood. “I would never hurt a child. Whatever you might think about me is your own business, but we have to spend time in each other’s company, so I’ll ask you to keep your perverted accusations to yourself!” He left the kitchen and seconds later the front door slammed shut. “Well that’s a first.” Cassie’s voice trembled. “I’ve never seen any emotion in him before.” Charlie cleared the table, grateful for mindless work to occupy her fidgety hands. “Maybe I said too much.” “Oh no, not at all.” Cassie scowled. “You’ve always been too strong-willed for your own good, Charlie, but this time, do your mother a favor and be careful. I know Jocelyn won’t hurt you. You’re too important to him, but there’ s something frightening about him.” “Like the fact that he drinks blood?” Charlie shivered again, except this time she imagined Jocelyn’s fine, soft mouth pressed to her bare neck. His cool teeth scraped her flesh as his moist tongue lapped while his long fingers slipped between her legs and stroked where she was so aching and wet. Shaking her head, she forced the thought from her mind. It kept returning with terrifying clarity until her clit throbbed against the denim crotch of her jeans. She wondered if he’d put some sort of vindictive spell on her when he’d stared with those dark, penetrating eyes. “I don’t know anything about his personal business, nor do I want to,” Cassie said. “But I do know he’s existed since the Coven began and he has been trusted completely.
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He’s not a random murderer like Edrik. We need him and we also need you. I still don’t think you’d be this upset if you didn’t have a bit of a crush on him.” “I don’t get crushes, particularly not on him. It just took a while for me to accept that he’s…he’s…” “Don’t dwell on what he is, honey, but don’t forget it, either, and you’ll be fine.” As the two women embraced, Charlie hoped her mother was right.
***** Charlie and Cassie spent most of the evening together before Cassie retired and Charlie spent time with her art. She finished at midnight, but Jocelyn still hadn’t returned. She tried ignoring her concern and guilt about her earlier accusations. She wasn’t sure why she’d been so angry with him. From the start Jocelyn had told her what he was. It was her fault if she’d chosen to ignore it. If his lifestyle horrified her, it couldn’t be any easier for him to actually be living it. In his mind, preying on criminals was probably his way of justifying his existence. After all, he was sort of an immortal cop, chasing a criminal like Edrik through the ages. “Charlie, you’re losing it, girl,” she scolded herself as she wandered into the living room and lit a candle on the coffee table. Maybe if she spent some time meditating, she’d calm herself enough to sleep. Sitting on the floor, her back braced against the couch, she watched the black and yellow flame flickering in the darkness. It amazed her that even such a small flame touched her with an intense, comforting warmth far more personal than a newly-made fire. “I love candlelight.” Charlie’s head jerked toward Jocelyn. In the candle’s dim light, she saw his shadowed face, wind-tossed hair, and pale hands folded in front of him. His eyes were calm again, their expression sad and thoughtful. As he approached, she moved aside so he could sit near her on the floor. When he spoke, his attention focused on the flame. “Perhaps I should have been more clear when I explained to you about myself.” “No, it wasn’t you. I acted like a jerk. I’m not sure why I did.” Her gaze held his. “I’m sorry. I know you’d never hurt Trish.” “How could you know?” “A person only has to look at you to know you’re not capable of doing anything like that.” “How can anyone be certain of what another person is capable of?” “You can’t. Sometimes all you have to go by is gut feeling. In my family, gut feelings are usually right.”
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For a moment they sat in silence. Charlie was intensely aware of him, the scent of the cold autumn night clinging to him and the sight of his long legs stretched beside hers. They sat so close, that if she moved the slightest bit, they’d touch. She tilted her knee against his and glanced at his profile. Her heartbeat quickened and she wondered if he could hear its pounding. The leaping flame reflected in the patient brown depths of his eyes as he slowly turned to her and said, “It seems we might get along after all.” “Could be.” She smiled slightly, noticing the wind had left a yellow leaf hidden in his hair. She reached up to remove it and he took her hand, the leaf crushed gently between their palms. The warmth of his touch and the thrill of their nearness enveloped her in desire she’d never dreamed possible. As she looked into his face, her feelings reflected back at her. She leaned a bit closer to him. Taking her chin in his hand, he tilted her face toward his. Charlie’s pulse raced. Her hard nipples scraped against her sweater and her pussy turned to liquid. His eyes closed, the golden lashes flickering as he bent and brushed his lips across hers. The sensation was overwhelming. His mouth was soft and slightly moist. Charlie’s arms slid around his neck. She buried her fingers in his hair and lost herself in emotion. Jocelyn’s hands slid up her back as he pressed her closer. His cock pressed against her hip and she uttered a soft, passionate sound. Tenderly he took her lower lip between his teeth. In spite of the sharpness of his incisors, he drew no blood. She never imagined a man kissing with such tenderness. It was like a spirit’s kiss, almost imperceptible but empowered. His tongue slid into her mouth and hers met it with long, gentle strokes. Jocelyn’s hands cupped her head, his fingers caressing her scalp. Suddenly he tugged his mouth from hers and stared at her with eyes glazed with passion and glowing red. “We can’t, “ he whispered. “I’m sorry. I should never have allowed that to happen.” She nodded, her breathing accelerated. The flush staining her face was as much from embarrassment as desire. He was right. Why would she bind herself to a creature like him even more than she already was? At least give herself the chance for a normal life after he left. Panic about what might have happened seized her and she stood. “I almost forgot,” she said. “I have something for you. I put it in your room.” He followed her up the steps to the guest room where he’d be staying until they left to begin her training. Cassie had agreed that Charlie would be much safer with Jocelyn nearby rather than in a Boston hotel. Charlie switched on the light and for the first time noticed that like a cat’s eyes, his pupils decreased to pinpoints in the brightness. Propped on the dresser was Charlie’s completed painting of the little girl. They walked to it and admired the perfection of each stroke and color.
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“I finished it tonight. I wanted it to dry a little before bringing it here, but don’t touch it yet. I did call it Sybil.” He stared so intensely it seemed he was willing the child to come alive and step out of the background of summer flowers and overhanging trees. Finally he turned to her with such a barrage of emotions in his gaze that her throat locked with compassion. “I can’t take this,” he said. “Why? I painted it, but I think she was yours long before she was mine.” She touched his elbow and squeezed, trying to impress upon him by touch how much she wanted to give him the work. “But it’s one of the paintings you never would have parted with.” “I never would have sold it, if that’s what you mean, but it’s mine to give away. You have to take it. No one’s ever looked at one of my paintings like you look at this. Besides, it’s my way of apologizing for what I said to you earlier.” “There’s no need to apologize.” “Do you like the painting or not?” “I love it.” “Then take it and shut up. Now I’m going to bed.” She walked to the door, but his voice stopped her. “Thank you, Charlie.” She glanced back at him, but his gaze was fixed on the painting. “You’re welcome,” she murmured, retiring to her room where she slept peacefully for the rest of the night. In his room, Jocelyn was unable to sleep. He stood, staring at the portrait, almost hearing the child’s small voice and joyful laughter.
***** “Will you come back soon?” the girl asked. “As soon as I can.” Jocelyn lifted her onto his knee as they sat by the fire, protected from the coldness of the room’s stone walls. She raised her cherubic face to his. “And when you do, you’ll take me for a ride on your horse?” “I promise. We’ll ride over the hill to the orchard, just as we did last summer.” “I don’t want you to go away.” “I don’t want to either,” Jocelyn admitted. If only she wasn’t so young. If only he could make her understand the urgency forcing him to ride with his mentor, Gamel, so much more often than he preferred. One day, when she was grown, he would explain everything to her.
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Before long, she fell asleep. He carried her to her bed and dropped a kiss on her cheek. Then he met Gamel, who already had their horses saddled and ready for what they hoped would be their last journey. Edrik had led them on too many chases and left behind unearthly destruction. Always he had escaped them, but this time he would be theirs. Outside, Jocelyn mounted his horse and squinted up at Sybil’s chamber window. “I know you don’t want to leave her again,” Gamel said, edging his bay stallion close to Jocelyn’s white. A neatly trimmed gray beard rimmed the older man’s jaw. His unruly steelcolored hair was tied into a loose tail down his mail-covered back. Still, the warrior’s rugged appearance belied the compassion in his eyes and voice. “But it’s for her good as well. With a fiend like Edrik loose, no one is safe.” “I keep making her promises, but I’m not always able to keep them,” Jocelyn said, more to himself than to his companion. Gamel’s keen hearing didn’t miss a word. “You’re devoted to her. Everyone knows it, including Sybil. She might be too young to articulate, but she knows how much you love her. I know how much you’ve sacrificed to help me keep Edrik subdued. Words alone cannot tell you what that means to me.” Jocelyn glanced at his companion. “Had it not been for you, I would never have known freedom. I owe you my life.” “You owe me nothing. Don’t forget how well I know you, Jocelyn. You’re loyal to no one, master, friend, or family, unless you love them.” Jocelyn made no comment as he turned his horse toward the well-trodden road and cantered toward the rising moon.
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Chapter Five Charlie awoke to Bell’s deep barking and the scent of coffee and toast. Running a hand over her sleepy face, she squinted at the alarm clock she’d forgotten to set the night before. “After ten.” She swung her bare legs over the side of the bed. “Two days in a vampire’s company and I’m already starting to keep his hours.” She glanced out the window to see why Bell sounded so anxious. Cursing softly, she watched Mark and Mara slip from his red convertible. “Great,” Charlie muttered. “Just what I need.” She hurried to the bathroom and showered. As she braided her hair and dressed in her weekend sweats and a sleeveless tank top, she hoped Mark wouldn’t get into one of his macho-protective moods toward her. Though she had told him countless times she only considered him a casual date, he insisted on thinking of himself as her boyfriend. She’d known for a while that unless he accepted her terms, she’d need to stop seeing him. Mara simply couldn’t understand why Charlie didn’t desire the promising, handsome young man with a perfect jock’s body, but Mara rarely looked past a man’s physical attributes. She slipped on her light-weight black sneakers and jogged down the stairs where Mara and Mark awaited her at the landing. Mara unsuccessfully tried restraining Bell who snarled at Mark. Charlie took the dog’s collar and managed to calm her. “That dog is nasty,” Mark said as he stepped closer to Charlie and kissed her on the lips. “Sorry I haven’t been around lately. Football practice is killing me.” “It’s okay. I’ve been busy anyway.” “So I’ve heard. Mara said you have some guy staying with you?” “I’ll just leave you two love birds alone,” Mara interrupted, winking at Charlie and completely ignoring her friend’s pleading look. “I’m going to help Cassie in the kitchen. I’m starving.” “How can you be starving?” Mark cocked an eyebrow. “You had a donut and coffee on the ride over.” “Not everyone’s an anorexic cheerleader, baby.” Mara tossed him a sidelong glance as she stepped into the kitchen. “Let’s go talk.” Mark took Charlie’s arm and guided her to the living room. “So tell me about this guy.” “He’s a family friend.” “What’s he look like?”
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“Why, Mark? Are you interested?” “Don’t even joke about it,” he said with the quiet, deadly anger of the truly ignorant or one trying to conceal a hidden desire. “I don’t like the idea of him being here.” “It’s none of your business.” “Come on, baby, even though you don’t want to admit it, we’ve been dating—” “I never said we weren’t dating. I said it’s not serious.” “Sure. You’re afraid of commitment. I know how you really feel about me, and you know how I feel about you. We’ve got a lot in common.” She glanced at him over her shoulder. “We have a calculus class in common.” “We also have this in common.” He pulled her into his arms and claimed her mouth in a kiss far more intimate than the one at the foot of the steps. Usually when he kissed her, Charlie tolerated it. It wasn’t that he repulsed her. He was what most people considered drop dead gorgeous with his short black hair and blue eyes. She simply felt no sexual attraction to him. She allowed his kisses because she figured it was something dating couples shared. Though she normally derived no pleasure from it, she had never felt so offended as at that moment. As his arms tightened around her and his tongue plunged into her mouth, she would have pushed away had it not been for a nagging fear in the back of her mind. It terrified her that the main reason behind her complete aversion to Mark was her attraction to Jocelyn. So she remained in Mark’s arms, forcing herself to appreciate his physical closeness. She needed to choose between the normal, possibly pleasant relationship Mark offered and the mysterious desire she’d felt since first staring into Jocelyn’s exotic face. A thud from across the room ended their kiss. Both their heads snapped toward Jocelyn who had dropped an armload of logs by the fireplace. “You must be the visitor.” Mark draped an arm around Charlie’s shoulder as he sized up Jocelyn with the arrogant eyes of youth. “And you must be the man whose shirt I borrowed.” “Huh?” Mark looked from Jocelyn to Charlie. “It’s a long story. Some guy tried mugging me the night before last and Jocelyn helped me. He got his shirt ripped in the process, so I lent him the one you left when we were studying last week.” “Why didn’t you tell me somebody attacked you?” Mark stared at her with concern. “I told you that even with a black belt if some guy came after you—” “She would have handled the situation very well,” Jocelyn interjected. “It just so happens I didn’t see why she should have to deal with it when I was there to help.” “Sorry, buddy, but you don’t look like the fighting kind.” “Do you always judge by appearances?” “I know what I see, man. You’re really a visitor, aren’t you? What kind of accent is that? Australian?”
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Jocelyn took so long to answer that Charlie wondered if he planned on replying at all. “English.” Jocelyn’s acid tone expressed exactly what he thought of Mark. “Why don’t we have breakfast?” Charlie stepped away from Mark’s lingering arm and led them to the kitchen before they lost the semblance of civility. The morning meal progressed more smoothly than the previous night’s dinner. The women kept up lively conversation and the men participated pleasantly, though with little comment to each other. For the first time Charlie wished she hadn’t postponed her break-up with Mark. She’d always been honest with him. If he couldn’t accept her feelings, she wasn’t completely to blame. “So do the cops have any ideas about the guy who attacked you?” Mara asked, accepting a second slice of toast from Cassie. “No,” Charlie said, catching her mother’s concerned look. “It’s a good thing Jocelyn showed up when he did,” Mara said, trying to stare at the attractive foreigner with as much discretion as she could muster. “Good thing he didn’t get creamed, too.” Mark laughed. “Jocelyn’s probably the least likely person I know to get creamed.” The proud, protective words were out of Charlie’s mouth before she could stop them. Mark raised his eyes to heaven. “I didn’t mean anything by it, Charlie. It’s just that not everyone’s pumped, you know.” “Nor would everyone want to be,” Jocelyn commented. “Yeah. Sometimes brains mean more than brawn, Mark.” Mara punched his arm affectionately. “Not everyone’s a football star.” “Football?” Jocelyn raised an eyebrow in Mark’s direction. “I never would have guessed.” “Yeah, and she doesn’t mean soccer, either,” Mark clarified. “In those other countries that’s what they call football. We’re talking American football.” “Oh, I realize that,” Jocelyn said. Charlie wondered if she was the only one who caught his slightly mocking tone. “Jocelyn’s a martial artist,” Charlie stated. “Sure? Isn’t everyone?” Mark shrugged. “I took some kick boxing myself. Pretty good at it, too.” “Really?” Jocelyn stared at him over his coffee cup. “Maybe we could spar sometime?” Mark smirked. “As soon as possible. I could use the exercise.” “I was only kidding, but if you really want to, I’m for it,” Mark said. “How about after breakfast?” Jocelyn nodded, his lips turned up slightly at the corners though his eyes belied no humor. 44
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“Sounds cool to me,” Mara said. “Maybe Charlie and I could join in. She’s been teaching me, you know.” They finished the meal quickly and in relative silence. Cassie volunteered to clean the kitchen while the others went outside to spar. Only Charlie remained behind with her. “What’s the matter, Mom? Why don’t you come outside and watch?” “Charlie, I have no desire to see that young man hurt.” “Jocelyn isn’t going to hurt him,” Charlie said. “Maybe just his pride, but that could use a reality check.” “He’s just young, and he really likes you, honey.” “Mom, don’t even think of us as a couple. I’m telling him tonight I don’t want to see him anymore.” “I’m your mother. I know what kind of man is and isn’t your type. All I’m saying is Mark is tempting the devil with those sparring wise cracks.” “It might be a more fair fight than you think. You said during the day Jocelyn’s strength is the same as a mortal’s.” Cassie closed her eyes and counted to five, trying to keep her temper in check. She forced a smile. “I keep forgetting there’s so much you don’t know about…his kind. Yes, his strength is closer to a mortal’s by day, at times even by night, until the demon is invoked.” “You’re losing me, Mom.” “He’s human enough until his vampiric side is resurrected by strong emotions. Anger, passion, fear, maybe even joy, if he’s capable of feeling it.” “He must have some control over his powers.” “Complete.” Cassie shrugged. “But he still becomes a vampire. Tick him off, and our pale, soft-spoken Jocelyn becomes the hound of Hades. I imagine that’s why the rest of us have always considered him bland. Like I said, I’ve never seen an emotion in him until—” “Last night. I made him mad last night and he didn’t turn into some foam-mouthed, fanged lunatic.” “I mean really angry, Charlie, not aggravated. Besides that, even if he doesn’t use his supernatural advantage, he has far more experience than Mark could ever have. Yes, that boy has muscles on top of muscles, but Jocelyn’s a skilled martial artist and street fighter who has stood the test of time.” “I still don’t think he’ll really hurt Mark.” “Probably not, but I don’t want to watch either of them. I never even liked watching you spar in karate class when you were a kid.” “Then I’ll stay and help you clean this mess.”
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“No.” Cassie kissed her daughter’s cheek. “I’m just fussing. Go practice with the others.” Charlie hugged her before hurrying down the back steps, hoping she hadn’t missed anything. Her mother’s words inspired fear, apprehension, and curiosity. Strong emotions tempted the vampire in Jocelyn, emotions such as passion. She wondered if a vampire’s passion was as intense as the old legends proclaimed, or if that was only a fairy tale, too. Outside in the vast, fenced in yard, Mara sat under a weeping willow watching Jocelyn and Mark warm up. Charlie squatted beside her. “God, I don’t know which of them is more gorgeous,” Mara sighed. “Mark’s got a body to die for, and Jocelyn looks like a warrior in one of your fantasy paintings.” Charlie nearly winced at Mara’s comparison. If she only knew how much of Jocelyn’s life she’d painted. “I really hope Mark remembers this is only for fun,” Mara said. “I think he’s a little upset about Jocelyn living with you.” “It’s none of his business.” Charlie ignored Mara’s startled expression. “Keep your mouth shut about this, but I’m breaking up with him tonight. Breaking up! He’s even got me talking like we’re boyfriend and girlfriend!” “Are you crazy? I know Jocelyn’s sexy, but he’s just visiting, and I still say he’s too old for you. Mark is…perfect.” “Then you date him. I don’t want to anymore.” “Do you think I wouldn’t date him if he didn’t want you so much?” For the first time Charlie detected Mara’s jealousy and was startled. She had no idea their friendship ran so deep that Mara had never let on that she truly wanted Mark for her own. “Well I think you two would be much better together than he and I ever would have been. If I knew you felt that way about him, I never would have dated him in the first place.” “Now she tells me!” Mara raised her eyes to heaven. “So you really don’t want him?” “Girlfriend, if you two hit it off, he’s all yours.” Their conversation ended as Jocelyn and Mark circled one another in the center of the yard. Though Mark was anxious to overpower his opponent, Charlie credited him with waiting to attack. The fighting started almost simultaneously with Jocelyn spending most of his time avoiding Mark’s heavy fist and kicks from his thicklymuscled legs. “Pretty quick for a guy your age,” Mark said. “One doesn’t die after his thirtieth birthday,” Jocelyn’s eyes glistened with humor as he thought to himself, nor after his three hundredth. “It’s you skinny guys they always pick for the runners,” Mark said. 46
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“So here we have the old test of speed against power.” Jocelyn caught Mark’s arm as he threw a punch and used the young man’s own weight and lack of balance to send him sprawling onto his back. Mark, accustomed to holding up under heavy attacks, grabbed Jocelyn’s ankle and pulled him to the ground, wrestling him onto his back in an attempt to crush the slighter man into submission. Jocelyn was far stronger than he appeared and he had spent several years studying grappling techniques with an expert in South America. Slipping like liquid poison from Mark’s grasp, he held the younger man in an arm lock that ended the fight before Charlie and Mara could run from beneath the tree. “I think that’s enough for one day.” Mara’s anxious gaze fixed on Mark’s furious crimson face as he struggled to free himself from Jocelyn’s unbreakable hold. Jocelyn waited until Mark stopped moving before releasing him and stepping away. He brushed wisps of hair from eyes glistening with amusement. Mark climbed to his feet and rubbed his arm as he glared at Jocelyn. “Damn. You’re stronger than you look.” “It has little to do with strength. Practice and technique are what matter most.” “Are you all right?” Mara placed a hand on Mark’s sore arm. “Fine. I get tackled a million times a day. A little fun won’t hurt me.” Together, Mark and Mara plodded to the house, leaving Charlie and Jocelyn behind them. “He got just what he deserved,” Charlie whispered to Jocelyn. “Normally I wouldn’t engage in such foolishness, but I couldn’t resist.” He smiled honestly for the first time and she thought how handsome he was when not appearing all sullen and distracted. “Are you all right?” she asked hesitantly. “Having all two hundred thirty pounds of Mark land on you couldn’t have felt good.” “Not from the position I was in, but I’m sure there are young women who would love it.” “Jocelyn!” She laughed, then added, “Just for the record, I wouldn’t happen to be one of those women.” “I didn’t ask.” He glanced at her, his eyes still smiling though his lips settled back to their usual grim line. Charlie noted how relieved her mother appeared when they all walked into the kitchen without any serious battle wounds. She asked if anyone wanted another cup of coffee, but Mark and Mara excused themselves, saying they were late for work. “Mark,” Charlie called to him before he left the house. “Yeah, baby.” He grasped her upper arms and attempted to kiss her again, but she turned away. “I want to talk to you tonight. I’ll meet you at Don’s Café around six thirty?”
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“Alone, right?” He stared warily at Jocelyn who sat at the kitchen table with Cassie. “Yes. Alone. We have to talk.” “Sure. Tonight.” He dropped his hands from her and left, slamming the door behind him. As she joined her mother and Jocelyn in the kitchen, Charlie thought about what she was going to tell Mark that night until Cassie forced her back to an even worse reality. “The sooner you leave the better, honey,” she said. “We’ve already decided upon the best place. It’s been kept by the Coven for years and the knowledge of where has also been kept secret, known only by appointed members. Even I don’t know where it is.” “All these secrets.” Charlie shook her head. “I feel like I’m dealing with spies or something.” “Of the most sacred kind,” Jocelyn said. “Believe me, if Edrik is not caught, he will bring horrors upon this world that won’t end with a jail sentence or a shooting. If he’s not properly confined or preferably destroyed, he will be the serial killer who’s never caught. He’ll help cause world war three. He’ll—” “I get the point!” Charlie up her hand. “No, I don’t think you do!” he snapped. “Even those of you who take this seriously haven’t the faintest idea what he’s capable of! I do know.” “We’re all going to know very soon.” Cassie sighed. “I didn’t want to say anything because you’ve both got enough on your minds, but I heard on the news this morning three bodies were found in Lowell. Police aren’t giving all the details, but from what I gathered, it was one of the most gruesome crime scenes ever found. Cannibalism was suggested.” “I thought you guys only drank blood?” Charlie stared, horrified, at Jocelyn. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s all I do.” He shrugged. “But I warn you, this is only the beginning for him. I have to start teaching you right away. Today. I can’t let this go on. Not again!” He stood and opened the back door, Charlie at his heels. “Where are you going? Jocelyn!’ Ignoring her, he raced to the front yard with inhuman swiftness. His car disappeared down the street almost before she reached the driveway. “Great!” she muttered, her fists clenched. Jocelyn just might kill her with frustration before Edrik even got near her again.
*****
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Jocelyn stared at the road ahead, using only enough of his brain to focus on the pedestrians and traffic signals while the rest of his thoughts spun with memories of Edrik. If only he could be captured and killed like a mortal murderer. The monster slaughtered mercilessly and without regret. He reveled in finding new and more violent ways to cause suffering and death to his victims. It was as if he drew his power from the agony of others. “Perhaps he does,” Jocelyn murmured. “It’s what vampires do, survive off the blood of others.” Edrik didn’t only kill to survive. He enjoyed it. He didn’t need to eat or drink of the bodies to gain satisfaction, but only to watch the death throes and know he caused the suffering. It didn’t matter what he killed, animals, elderly, infants, men, or women. All were his victims and toys for his sadistic mind. If he could raise hell onto Earth, he would do so willingly, joyously, and without hesitation. Jocelyn gripped the steering wheel so tightly the smooth, plastic ridges imprinted on his palms. The daylight became almost painful as his senses heightened with his increasing rage, but he had already arrived at his destination. As soon as he’d entered the city of Lowell, he smelled the death Edrik had reveled in only hours ago. The crime scene, a parking lot behind an empty shop, was still blocked off. As Jocelyn squinted from across the street, he saw the bloodstained tar. There was so much of the dark residue that he wondered if Edrik had dropped to the ground and rolled in it. The scent of death and fear wafted on the autumn breeze. He tasted blood on his tongue and raised a hand to his mouth. A quick glance revealed crimson streaking his fingertips. In his rage, he’d bitten his own lip. Licking his mouth of the excess, he glance away from the lot. Edrik had to be close. He loved to look upon the aftermath of his destruction, having the comfort of knowing mortal law couldn’t touch him. Jocelyn sniffed the air as the fiend’s scent encompassed him. A car stopped behind him and he turned to Edrik who stared at him from the driver’s seat. His red hair glowed like flames in the sunlight and his face looked unusually haggard. Edrik rarely traveled by daylight since he didn’t possess the immunity to it Jocelyn had developed. He must have truly enjoyed the previous night’s killings to come out of safe slumber to view the aftermath of his handiwork. Jocelyn dove at the car. Edrik stepped on the gas, knocking Jocelyn into the middle of the street. Stunned, Jocelyn pushed himself to his knees only to drop back down and roll out of the path of Edrik’s speeding vehicle. Fortunately, Edrik’s day vision was far worse than Jocelyn’s. He missed his target, smashing into trash cans instead. As he tried backing out of the mess, Jocelyn tore him out of the car. The two struggled violently. Edrik eluded Jocelyn’s arm and leg locks and managed to jab his knee into Jocelyn’s ribs that were already bruised from the fall. Ignoring the bone-shattering pain, Jocelyn used his palm to strike Edrik’s throat. The fiend staggered away, trying to force air through his severely bruised windpipe. Jocelyn, one arm braced against his side, lunged at Edrik who kicked him in the face.
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Police sirens whined in the distance. “Great. Let them arrest me!” Edrik croaked, holding his injured throat as he backed away from Jocelyn. “Keep me safe in their mortal prisons. I see you have the ring, but you don’t have the staff. Only one way to truly destroy us. You know it and I know it.” “I’ll rip your fucking heart out with my own hands, you murdering bastard!” As the sirens sped closer, Jocelyn chased Edrik out of the alley, racing by startled passersby. Cars sped along the main road and Edrik rushed into the traffic, putting several cars between Jocelyn and himself. Horns screamed, people shouted out truck windows, brakes screeched, and more sirens blared. A black car rocked to a halt, but not before Jocelyn flew over the hood. As he shoved himself to his feet, the driver—a panic-stricken woman in a business suit—rushed to his side. “My God! Are you all right?” she cried. Jocelyn scarcely heard her as he walked a few steps toward Edrik who had stopped across the distant train tracks and blew him a kiss before the train roared by. “I don’t believe it,” Jocelyn murmured before blacking out.
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Chapter Six Dizziness whitened Jocelyn’s vision as he pushed himself to a sitting position. He fell forward only to be caught in Gamel’s strong embrace. “Don’t move.” Gamel guided him back to the fur blankets lining the tent floor. Jocelyn closed his eyes, sick from the metallic taste of blood and the merciless pounding of his temples. The earlier fight with Edrik had nearly killed him. He and Gamel had ridden into a village that was little more than a tiny group of thatched cottages linked together by the muddy brook running behind them. Edrik and the violenceworshipping bandits traveling with him had already slaughtered most of the villagers by the time Jocelyn and Gamel had arrived. Only when Jocelyn began fighting off three of the outlaws did Edrik join his men. The red-haired fiend had swept behind him on horseback, smashing him in the head with the flat of his sword. Jocelyn tasted blood as the village whirled around him. Edrik leapt from his bulky war-horse and struck Jocelyn who had scarcely recovered from the first attack. Though Jocelyn managed to stay alive beneath Edrik’s onslaught, he knew the monster was playing with him, using only a portion of his vampiric strength against Jocelyn’s weak mortal body. “Gamel has trained you well, for a human,” Edrik snarled. “But he made me immortal. You’re food for me, Jocelyn, just like these villagers.” The pain in Jocelyn’s head became so severe he could scarcely raise his sword. As the blur of steel in Edrik’s hand lifted for the death blow, he thought only of the child waiting patiently for her ride in the orchard. The blade was deflected by Gamel’s just before Jocelyn fell to his knees, vomiting the blood he’d swallowed. By the time he’d finished, Gamel was by his side. “Edrik?” Jocelyn asked weakly. “Gone,” replied his companion. In spite of Jocelyn’s protests, Gamel helped him to his feet. “Don’t concern yourself with him now.” “But I could have killed him. I let him go.” “You take too much upon yourself,” Gamel said. “At least right now. He got away from me as well. I’ve never seen his equal in a warrior, and I gave him eternity. I’m the one who should be guilty, Jocelyn. What he does is as much my fault as it is his.” Gamel’s words plagued Jocelyn even as he lay on the furs. His companion carefully changed the bloodstained bandages swathing his head. “There will be other times to fight him, Jocelyn. Other times for us to win.”
*****
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Jocelyn awoke long before the paramedics arrived. Still, he was taken by ambulance to the nearest hospital emergency room. Police waited to question him after he’d been checked over. He waited in the antiseptic white, curtain-concealed room and cursed his own impulsive nature. He hadn’t lied when he’d told Edrik he could rip out his heart with his hands. He would have loved to have done so and toss the black, beating lump of vile flesh into a pit of fire. Unfortunately, Edrik had been correct again. Unless the ritual was performed, they would spend eternity fighting each other, in spirit at the very least. To be arrested by mortals, tried by them, and thrown into one of their prisons, would only shield Edrik from the one executioner who could and would truly carry out the task. At the scene, Jocelyn had told police he hadn’t known who Edrik was, that they had fought after Edrik tried robbing him. Then the ambulance had arrived, so they postponed further questioning. The doctor stepped behind the curtain and tried making comfortable chatter throughout the examination. Jocelyn conversed in brief replies, nodding when he was told he had broken ribs and remaining ideally still when his hands and face, scraped raw from the road, were cleaned. “You said you were hit by that one car?” The doctor, a short, slight yuppie with round metal glasses poked at Jocelyn’s side in a detached manner. “From the look of these injuries, I’d say you were hit twice from opposite angles.” “I was struck once.” Jocelyn stared into the doctor’s eyes, using the telepathic gift he’d perfected. “Only once.” “Of course. Anyone examining you can see you were only hit once,” the doctor repeated. “Those ribs are going to be painful for a few weeks, though. I also think you should stay overnight.” “There’s no need for me to stay overnight. You may discharge me immediately.” “Right away. There would be no point in keeping you overnight. I’ll give you a prescription for a painkiller and you’ll be fine. You can dress now.” “Thank you, doctor.” The young man nodded and closed the curtain behind him as Jocelyn slid his shirt back on, preparing himself to continue his lies to the police.
***** It was evening when Jocelyn finished answering questions at the station, reclaimed his towed car, and returned to the house. Cassie informed him that Charlie had gone to meet Mark. She’d also spoken to her husband who was still trying to locate the staff in Spain but who agreed the sooner Jocelyn and Charlie left for the hideaway, the better off they’d be. Though Cassie noted Jocelyn’s cut and bruised face, she refrained from asking him how he’d sustained the injuries, and he offered no explanation. She’d long 52
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ago learned that concerning herself with Jocelyn was useless. He was a separate entity created to serve the Coven in the sole purpose of restraining Edrik. As long as he performed his duty, there was no need to take an interest in him. Though she tried passing that advice to Charlie after Jocelyn had left that afternoon, her suggestion had led to an argument. Cassie feared the attachment forming between her daughter and the vampire. She knew once Charlie’s mind was set, nothing could change it. She also knew how cold and inhuman Jocelyn was. She hoped his obsession with his duty would distance him emotionally from his young apprentice. After his brief conversation with Cassie, Jocelyn excused himself to sleep. Cassie, reading a magazine and sipping coffee, waited in the kitchen until Charlie returned a couple of hours later. Cassie glanced up from her reading as Charlie embraced her. “I’m sorry I argued with you,” Charlie said. “It’s all right. I’m your mother and I can’t help worrying about you.” “I know, but I can make my own decisions.” Cassie smiled, squeezing her hand. “I know. How did your talk with Mark go?” Charlie wrinkled her nose in disgust. “He thought I was joking at first. When he realized I wasn’t, he had to remind me of what a great guy he is and how the whole squad of cheerleaders is breaking down his bedroom door.” Cassie laughed. “It’s not funny, Mom. I wonder why I bothered dating such a jerk in the first place. I told him if he has so many women after him then he shouldn’t miss me. Let Mara have him. She thinks he’s Mr. Perfection.” Cassie glanced over her coffee mug. “But he’s not your idea of Mr. Perfection?” “No. I think I need someone more mature, more interesting.” Charlie drifted for a moment, staring at the tree branch brushing against the window, creating dots of moonlight on the sill. She glanced at her mother. “Did Jocelyn come home?” “He’s in his room. Charlie, I don’t think he wants to be bothered.” Charlie was out of the room and halfway up the steps before Cassie finished her sentence. Stopping outside Jocelyn’s door, she paused for a moment, her heart pounding. Dismissing her silly emotions, she knocked softly. “Jocelyn?” “I’m in bed, Charlie.” “I don’t care.” “Then come in,” he said flippantly. She opened the door and turned on the light, wondering where she found the audacity to do so. He squinted against the brightness as he raised himself onto his elbows in disbelief. “What an impertinent, young—”
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“What happened to you?” she demanded, her gaze darting from his face to the tight white tape swathing his lean torso. “Nothing.” He sat up straighter, willing himself not to wince in front of her. The sheet dropped lower, baring his thick though flaccid cock lolling against his hair-dusted inner thigh. She turned away, covering her eyes. “Good Goddess, you’re naked!” “I told you I was in bed. You’re the one who insisted on barging in here.” He pulled on jogging pants. “You may turn around.” “Are you sure?” “Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a naked man before. You probably saw that football stud out of his clothes more often than in.” “Who the hell do you think you are making such insinuations?” She spun, furious until she noted his smile. “I was only teasing you.” She glanced at him shyly. “I knew that. I wanted to talk to you because I was worried about you when you left. I didn’t want you thinking I don’t consider what we have to do important.” “You’ll have to forgive me if I react strongly to any mention of Edrik. I don’t think anyone can comprehend my hatred of him. It all happened so long ago, but to me, it’s like yesterday.” “He must have hurt many people you cared about.” “Yes.” He glanced at the painting of Sybil perched on the dresser. “I’m sorry.” She brushed a lock of hair from his bruised cheek. He moved away as if startled by her comforting touch, so she dropped her hand. “What happened today?” “When your mother told me about the murders in Lowell, I had to go to the crime scene myself. Edrik always gloats over his disasters, you see.” “He was there?” She tried controlling the fear that nearly overwhelmed her each time she thought of Edrik, but didn’t completely succeed. Jocelyn nodded. “We fought. He reminded me of how safe he’d be if he was arrested and imprisoned by mortals. I would have torn out his heart if I could, but he got away. I ended up telling the police he tried to rob me.” “How did you talk to the police?” Charlie began pacing the room. “They must have asked you for ID and—” “Charlie, I do have proper identification. I haven’t lived like a ghost for all these years.” He stood and grasped her shoulders. “I do know how to survive like a man, you know.” “Sure you do.” She looked up at him, her eyes wide with concern. “I’m just not used to all this. I’ve seen you fight. If he hurt you this badly—” “He hit me with a car.” “He what?”
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He guided her to the edge of the bed where they sat side by side. He’d wanted to avoid telling her all the details of the event, but he had no choice. Without his knowing it, she had pried into his heart and touched parts of him he thought had died long ago. When he’d finished his story, she stared at him with a discerning expression. “Jocelyn, I don’t know what Edrik did to you, but you’re not after him simply because it’s your Coven duty. You seem like the kind of man who thinks everything through, except when it comes to him. You have to start thinking about what’s best for yourself and what we need to do to stop him.” He laughed. “It’s sad you have to tell me that.” “Some things are so intense we lose our perspective and need someone else to shove us back to reality. We haven’t known each other long, but we seem to do that for one another. When I freak out, you know how to calm me down, and when you need to chill out, I can convince you to.” “I guess we do that for each other,” he admitted, gazing into her delicate, honest face and realizing almost too late that he intended to kiss her again. Instead he moved away, easing himself back onto the bed. “Does it hurt much?” she asked. He shook his head, lying. The prescription for the painkiller was stuffed in his jacket pocket. The last thing he needed was his senses dulled, not when Edrik lurked out there. Besides, as soon as he took some blood, he’d begin healing quickly. He just disliked the idea of taking blood unless it was absolutely necessary or if he was in a violent mood, as he had been the night before. “Can I do anything to make you more comfortable?” She placed her palm over his wrist as she stood. Her warmth spread up his entire arm and traveled through his body. Even his cock twitched awake. “No. Thank you. Tomorrow we’ll leave the house and begin training. Have you taken care of everything here?” “Yes. I notified the school, quit my job—my boss was really glad about that,” she said sarcastically as she recalled the scene when she’d quit her receptionist job without notice. “And I’ve talked to Mara. She doesn’t understand why I’m taking off with you. She thinks we’re having an affair or something.” He laughed. “An affair? Can you imagine? You’re a lovely kisser, but we would never work.” “We’d probably end up killing each other.” “Most likely.” They glanced at their entwined fingers and abruptly let their hands fall apart. She walked to the door. “My mother notified the couple who own this house. She told them I’ve been very ill and had to close up the house and take Bell to live with her and my father. We’re all set. So I’ll see you tomorrow?”
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“Tomorrow. Goodnight, Charlie.” “I hope you feel better.” She stepped into the hallway, then glanced at him over her shoulder and said, “Jocelyn, you’re a lovely kisser, too.” He watched as she closed the door behind her. Turning off the light, he settled beneath the blankets and stared out the window at the half-moon. He thought about the young woman who was supposed to be his apprentice but whom he’d already kissed in a manner unbefitting a mentor. To his surprise, Charlie was becoming dear to him in a manner he hadn’t experienced in centuries.
***** “I never expected to draw any good from slavery, but now the skills I learned serve me,” Jocelyn said, running his hands through the large tub of rose-scented water. His slick palms caressed Olympia’s smooth, well-muscled leg. While not a tall woman, her body was powerful and remarkably fit. Her strength made her one of the finest jousters in Europe. Traveling in masculine guise had preserved her credibility and probably saved her life in more ways than one. As far as Jocelyn knew, he was the only person—vampire or mortal—who knew her true identity. She’d taught him well. Already a fine horseman when he came to her, his skills were now superb. For the first time in more years than he remembered, he’d found someone he could almost open up to. Though Olympia knew much about his past, some things he kept secret and would speak of to no one. In spite of his fondness of her, he would never again reveal himself completely to another living soul. Total trust in Gamel had led to destruction. Love in any of its forms, for a daughter, lover, or friend, was deadly. “Umm,” Olympia leaned her head back and closed her large, dark eyes. Her features, while attractive, appeared somewhat masculine from her strong forehead, down her aquiline nose, to her square jaw. Water splashed her full breasts, free of their usual binding. The nipples stood out hard, awaiting his lips and tongue. Jocelyn leaned over and captured one of her nipples between his teeth. His tongue flicked over it until she sighed. “Just like silk,” she murmured, running her fingers through his hair. The words, meant as complimentary, twisted his gut. How many times had his master said the same, speaking of him like a possession, a prized horse or a bolt of expensive fabric. Olympia was little different. She paid for his talent for lovemaking by teaching him to fight. “Lie back and close your eyes,” Jocelyn said. She did as he asked, a smile on her lips. Picking up a washcloth, he soaped it and washed her shoulders and arms. He rinsed her with handfuls of warm water. He washed her breasts, massaging the fleshy globes, carefully avoiding her nipples until she sighed with anticipation. He 56
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used the rough cloth to wash the spiky nipples while his free hand slipped beneath the water and stroked her inner thighs. His thumb slid along the indentation of her thigh and hip. Olympia sighed, her breasts rising and falling with each breath. Jocelyn lifted her from the tub and placed her on the fur rug in front of the fireplace. His mouth covered hers in a primitive kiss. Their fangs clicked and they pierced each other’s tongues. The taste of blood soon had Jocelyn hard and erect, his cock aching for her. Rather than satisfy his urge, he broke the kiss. Ignoring her mewl of protest, he lapped her from throat to pelvis. He lifted her firm buttocks in his hands, squeezing and stroking, as he lowered his head to her clit. The tip of his tongue caressed one side then the other before finding the pulsing nub. “Your mouth is so sweet,” she panted, her fingers tightening in his hair. “Don’t stop, Jocelyn, don’t!” He parted the folds of slick pink flesh and trailed to her pussy. Thrusting his tongue inside her, he swirled and stroked. With long, wet strokes, he teased the ultra soft, sensitive skin between her pussy and nether hole. One of his fingers pressed against the sphincter as he fastened his lips on her clit, sucking and licking while he prodded her bottom, not quite entering. Olympia gasped and panted when his fangs scraped her tender flesh as he continued licking. A shudder of pure animal desire ripped through Jocelyn and he could wait no more. He mounted her, thrusting long, fast, and deep. “Yes!” Olympia’s short nails drove into his back, raking him from shoulder to buttocks. “Hard and quick, my darling! So, so hard!” Jocelyn thrust with perfect control in spite of his rising passion. He had been prized for his longevity. Nothing shattered his control. Ever. Olympia challenged him, demanding more speed, more power. Jocelyn complied, his breath rasping as he willed his pulse to slow. Several times he thought he would explode with need. His cock ached, his balls felt tight. Sweat beaded on his flesh as Olympia’s vampiric body demanded more from him than a mortal lover ever could. The fight always thrilled her, on the field and in the bedchamber, but no one could defeat Jocelyn. His master had trained him well. Olympia’s hard, smooth body tensed. Her hips matched his rhythm as she opened her eyes and smiled up at him—a tense, challenging smile. She knew he was as aroused as she was. “I’ll win this time,” she gasped, wrapping her powerful legs around him and digging her nails deeper into his back. “So you think,” he replied, increasing his speed. He kissed her, his tongue rimming her mouth then exploring deeply, keeping time with his thrusting cock. Briefly, Jocelyn thought she might win this time. Then she screamed. Her eyes squeezed shut. She sank her teeth into his neck and came, her pussy clamping his cock in a powerful rhythm that nearly pushed him over the edge. He stopped thrusting and remained still except for his heaving chest and wildly pulsing heart. Fire and brimstone, he wanted to come! He would have clenched his teeth but feared slicing his lips. The taste of blood at that moment would destroy him. “Bastard!” Olympia gasped, shoving him away. Jocelyn rolled onto his back and smiled. “What did you say about winning?”
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“So this is the respect you have for your teacher, you impertinent whelp,” she teased. Before he could move, she flung herself between his legs, her mouth engulfing his straining cock. Growling, Jocelyn arched his head back, his pulse racing out of control as she sucked his cockhead. Her tongue lapped and tasted, tickling the ridge and vein on the underside of his rod. “Sometimes I think it’s ironic that you came to me to learn how to joust with a staff.” Olympia grinned, sliding up his body and straddling his waist. She lowered herself onto him, her slick pussy enveloping his cock. She ran her hands over his sweaty chest and tickled his ribs. Biting her hand, she held it to his lips. He exploded at the taste of her blood, his thick, aroused cock spurting into her as he licked her bleeding hand. A bellow sounded from outside. Both Jocelyn and Olympia leapt from the bed and gazed out the narrow window at the warrior below. A vampire, and a very angry one, judging by his scent. “Who is he?” Jocelyn demanded. Arousal faded from Olympia’s eyes, replaced by coldness he knew all too well. “I must go.” “Why?” “This is an old challenge.” “He wants to fight you?” She tossed her hair over her shoulder and brushed his lips with a kiss. “I’ll be back soon.” In spite of her words, Jocelyn sensed her apprehension—something she rarely felt when faced with a challenge. “Let me go,” Jocelyn said. “This is my fight, not yours. Don’t worry. There is nothing more for me to teach you. You’ve been my finest student, Jocelyn.” “Then I should fight him as repayment.” “No. You’re not the only one with vengeance to settle.” “What did he do to you?” “Still so young.” Olympia caressed his cheek. “I killed his father when I sacked his village years ago. The booty was good, and at the time that’s all I cared about.” Jocelyn said nothing as he watched her don her armor and pick up her sword. When she’d finished, she turned to him. “A kiss for luck?” “Of course.” Jocelyn’s mouth brushed hers with a kiss. “I won’t tell you not to avenge me, should he win. I know you feel he is justified.” Jocelyn didn’t reply and Olympia smiled. He watched the joust from the bedchamber window. Three passes and it was over. Olympia lay dead. Her killer tilted his mail-covered face toward Jocelyn, as if challenging him. It wasn’t fear that kept Jocelyn from fighting, nor was it a lack of respect for Olympia.
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Only when the warrior rode off did Jocelyn turn from the window and dress. Before leaving the castle for good, he placed Olympia’s body on a funeral pyre, hoping that her soul had finally found the peace Jocelyn might never know.
***** Early the following morning before Jocelyn left his room, Charlie drove Cassie and Bell to the airport. The women embraced each other for a long moment before Cassie boarded the plane. “Be careful.” Cassie kissed her daughter’s cheek. “I love you.” “I love you, too. Jocelyn and I will do what has to be done. I’ll learn, and he’ll catch Edrik. I know he will.” Cassie nodded, staring sadly into Charlie’s eyes that would soon lose their youthful innocence forever. “Charlie, I know we said we wouldn’t discuss it again, but I’m going to ask you once more not to love him. He’s survived so long and endured all he has because he’s cut himself off from human emotion. Whether he wants to or not, he’ll end up hurting you.” “I can’t help what will or won’t happen.” “Then think about his. Let’s say by the remote chance he is able to feel something for you, maybe even fall in love with you. Ties like that can only hinder his cause. He’ll be thinking of you when he should be thinking of Edrik.” Charlie folded her arms beneath her breasts and looked past her mother to the line of travelers boarding the plane. “That’s not gong to happen. We know what we have to do, and believe me, nothing will come between Jocelyn and Edrik.” Charlie recalled the utter hatred in Jocelyn’s expression at the mention of Edrik’s name. He’d admitted his interest in destroying the demon wasn’t just for the sake of the Coven, or even the world. It was personal. “You’d better go, Mom, before you miss your plane.” With a final embrace, Cassie disappeared in the crowd. Charlie watched from one of the enormous airport windows as the plane darted down the runway and rose, as if by magic, into the sunny, cloud-dotted sky. When she arrived at the house, Jocelyn had already loaded the car with luggage she’d packed the previous night. She stood beside him as he slammed the trunk shut. Sticking her hands in the pockets of her short leather jacket, she gazed at him and willed her pulse not to race. “So when are we leaving?” she asked, placing her foot on the bumper and tying her boot. The position hiked up her wool mini-dress and exposed her sleekly muscled leg. “As soon as you’re ready,” he replied, walking to the house without looking back at her.
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She followed him, mocking his proud carriage and long, slow strides. Now who’s impertinent, you haughty jerk? Sure you weren’t looking at my legs. Inside, she sat next to him on the couch as he flipped through one of her books of Haiku. “You look better than you did last night,” she said. “Your face is almost completely healed.” “One of the benefits of being what I am.” He still didn’t look at her. She wondered if she’d only imagined the attraction brewing between them. “I’m a little worried about Bell, though,” she continued. “She seemed so lethargic on the way to the airport. I hope she won’t be homesick.” “She’ll be fine.” He didn’t bother admitting the dog suffered from a slight blood loss. “So where is this secret place we’re going to?” she asked. “You’ll see.” “Why can’t you tell me.” “Don’t you trust me?” She noted his steely expression. “Do you want me to answer that honestly?” “I always want you to be honest with me, Charlie. It’s the sarcasm I can live without.” He placed the book on the coffee table and stared at her for the first time that morning. “You know, you have the most beautiful eyes.” She smiled, slightly mocking but mostly serious. She edged closer and ran her fingers through his hair. Jocelyn stood and walked to the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, “Be ready in fifteen minutes.” Charlie hurried to gather the last of her belongings. She tossed make-up, hairbrushes, and jewelry into her duffel bag and carefully placed her art supplies in their box. “Be ready in fifteen minutes,” she mocked Jocelyn’s haughty, elegant voice. “Who does the son-of-a-bitch think he is? My own mother doesn’t tell me what to do, so I’ll be damned if I’ll let some man tell me.” “You will if you want to stay alive,” he said from where he leaned in the doorway of her empty studio. “You’re a control freak.” Nudging him aside, she walked down the attic stairs. She flicked off the light, leaving him in darkness and feeling good about it until she remembered he saw better in the dark. Grudgingly, she allowed him to help her lock up the house. In the car, she sat silently beside him as they drove out of the wealthy suburban neighborhood and glided onto the highway.
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His attitude infuriated her. He seemed perfectly content to meet her silence with silence. Sunglasses protecting his eyes, he seemed only conscious of the road ahead and his own thoughts. She could have been alone, for all his interest in her. About an hour into their journey, she sat bolt upright, her hands flying to her mouth. “I forgot it!” He glanced at her. “What?” “My fan brush. I left it in the drawer in the attic. It’s in its own box and I forgot it. We have to go back for it.” “Are you daft? I’m not turning back for a brush. We can stop and get another.” “My grandmother gave me that brush when I started college. It was her favorite. We’re going back for it, so turn this fucking car around now!” “Must you always resort to profanity? Try asking nicely and I might indulge your whim.” Open-mouthed, she stared at him, unable to find the words to express her growing dislike of him. How could she ever have stooped low enough to kiss the likes of him? Her impulse was to call him every foul word she could think of, but she needed her brush. It was her most treasured reminder of her beloved grandmother and she wanted it with her. Drawing a deep, calming breath, she willed her voice to lose its sarcastic edge as she said, “Jocelyn, that brush is of great sentimental value to me. Please turn the car around.” Smiling slightly, he drove off the next exit and headed back to the house. “Now can’t you see I was right? You’re a control freak.” “Because I ask that you speak to me with the same respect that I speak to you makes me a control freak?” “How is ordering me around speaking with respect?” “I’m not trying to order you around. All right, maybe a little, but that’s only because you seem to derive some strange amusement from me. And you’re constantly mocking me.” “Maybe a little.” She smiled, a bit embarrassed. “But that’s only because you’re so different from anyone I’ve ever met. There’s something a little archaic in the way you speak. It’s not all that noticeable, but it’s kind of cute.” “Archaic?” He removed his sunglasses and glanced at her with those dark, dark eyes. “Just because I don’t begin every sentence with the word cool?” “Jocelyn, sometimes I really like you.” “Fickle girl,” he muttered, pulling into the driveway. She was about to open the door when he grasped her arm, overwhelmed by the scent of blood. “Wait here, Charlie,” he stated with no room for argument.
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“What’s wrong?” “Someone’s been in the house.” He opened the car door cautiously and approached the house. “Is it Edrik?” she asked. “Keep quiet and get back in the car!” He followed the aroma of blood combined with Edrik’s faded scent. In the living room, furniture was overturned and the floor littered with broken glass and scraps of wood. In the center of the shattered glass coffee table, Mara lay on her back, her clothes torn to bloody shreds, her body so badly damaged that he only knew her by scent alone. Painted in Mara’s blood on the wall above the fireplace was a church, flames leaping through the broken stained-glass windows through which arms strained for freedom from the inferno. On the mantel below was Charlie’s fan brush, caked with dried blood. For a moment Jocelyn stared at the painting, almost hearing the shrieks of the dying as smoke overtook the scent of blood. “All dead,” he whispered. “Burned to ashes.” A moan, inaudible to human ears, forced Jocelyn to Mara’s side. Ignoring the overpowering bloodlust that momentarily engulfed his senses, he listened for her faint, rapid pulse and saw the almost imperceptible rise and fall of her chest. He reached for the phone. “Jocelyn?” Charlie shouted from the hall. “What’s going on in there?” “Stay out there, Charlie!” “Something’s wrong! Tell me!” “Just wait there!” “Oh!” She shrieked from where she stood in the doorway. “Is she dead?” “I told you to stay out! Why don’t you ever listen to me?” She approached on legs trembling so violently she could scarcely walk. Dropping to her knees beside Mara, she crushed a slip of paper in her fist. “Did he do this?” she whispered. “Her clothes are gone.” Jocelyn slipped off his jacket and placed it over Mara. He reached for the paper in Charlie’s hand. “What’s that?” “A note from Mara. It was in the hallway. She had a spare key to the house and I forgot to take it back from her. She was returning it…” Charlie’s voice trailed off as she noticed the hellish mural above the mantel and her grandmother’s brush stiff with blood. “Animal! That fucking animal!” The ambulance siren roared outside and Jocelyn hurried to the door to guide the paramedics. The next moments were filled with a tangle of emergency workers and police. Jocelyn and Charlie answered their questions to the best of their ability, though Jocelyn used his mind control to guide their conclusions away from Edrik and any
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possible connection to the Coven’s task. When he’d finished, the police were certain it was a random break-in and allowed them to leave for the hospital directly from the precinct.
***** In the hospital lobby, Charlie, Jocelyn, Mark, and several of Mara’s other close friends from college awaited the results of her emergency surgery. “Come with me.” Jocelyn took Charlie’s arm. “I don’t want to leave until I find out how she is.” “Just come for a short walk with me. We need to talk.” She followed him to the chapel where they could speak privately. They sat side by side, his gaze on her as she stared at the statue of the crucified Christ. “He was after me,” Charlie said in a strained voice. “Edrik.” “Most likely. Unfortunately Mara was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” “It’s my fault. If she dies, I’ll never forgive myself. Never.” “Don’t say that.” He grasped her shoulders, shaking her, forcing her to face him. “Don’t ever blame yourself for what he does. I won’t let you live with that kind of guilt.” She stared at him, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. She wanted to weep, but anger and disgust trapped the strangling sobs in her breast, tightening until she wanted to die or kill. “You said you can teach me how to defend myself against him. That’s not good enough. I want to kill him. I want to see the bastard die. I want to feel him die…” “Charlie!” He shook her again. “He’s mine to kill! Mine alone. I won’t let you tarnish your soul as mine has been!” “There you go again, telling me what to do.” She turned her dull expression to him. “You’re the one who complained that no one understood what he’s capable of. Well, now I know. So I’m giving you an order for once. You’re going to teach me to kill that bastard.” “You’re upset. We should discuss it later.” He stood and headed for the door. “Don’t you walk away from me!” She shoved him hard in the chest. “This is just as much your fault! Why couldn’t you have left me alone? Mara is the nicest person I know! She accepted me when no one else would! Now she might die, and it’s our fault!” “Charlie, it’s all right.” He spoke to her in that calm voice, making her even more furious since she felt anything but calm. “Just shut up! I’m sick of all your fucking talk! My best friend might be dying and you’re telling me it’s all right!”
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“I mean it’s all right to be angry with me. It’s when you hide your feelings that you end up consumed by hatred.” She tossed up her hands in exasperation. “Don’t you ever shut up? Do you have an answer for everything? Do you think you know everything? You didn’t know how to keep Edrik away from Mara. Two times you fought him and let him get away. You’re supposed to stop him!” “I tried,” he whispered. How often had his conscience repeated those same accusations? In his mind, the cries of the dead were never silent. They demanded to know why their lives had been destroyed and their corpses left to rot among the ashes of a sacred house. “I tried.” “Not hard enough! I have to kill him because you’re fucking useless!” She noticed his gaze sweeping to the crucifix. She drew a shuddering breath, humiliated by her disrespect for another’s religion. She tried running past Jocelyn, but he held her. “Let me go!” She struck back at him with her elbow, feeling him inhale sharply as she connected with his sternum. The knowledge that she’d hurt him seemed to vent her emotions. Without considering the wrong of it, she spun and slapped him with all her strength. He’d seen the slap coming, but didn’t bother blocking it, hoping to absorb some of her pain and confusion. The next several times she struck, he blocked passively until she stopped. Tears blurred her eyes as she covered her face with her hands and dropped into a pew, sobbing. He sat beside her. “I’m sorry,” she wept. “It wasn’t your fault.” “Nor was it yours. Edrik is evil. It’s his doing, and I will destroy him. I promise you.” She nodded, too emotional to speak as she felt his arms slip around her and hold her to his chest. She clung to him as desperately as she’d struck him moments ago. Her arms locked around his waist as if he was the only solid thing left in a world suddenly turned to ash. He didn’t speak, but rocked her gently, his fingers stroking her hair until her sobs slowed to mild shudders and finally stopped. His chest felt warm and his shirt wet with her tears beneath her cheek. The steady rhythm of his heart calmed her. Finally she loosened her grip on him and pulled away, searching her pocket for a tissue. He brushed tears from her face with his fingertips. “I’m sorry you had to become involved in this,” he said. “If only I could find someone else. If only I thought you’d be safe without me, but I know he’ll come for you.” “I want to do this. I have to help in any way I can, for Mara and everyone else he’s hurt. Do you understand how much I want to do this now?” She wiped her nose on a tissue, staring at him through moist, red-tinged eyes that shone with strength and understanding he hadn’t seen before.
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He nodded, his hand lingering on her jaw, his gaze searching her face, stunned by the power of his feelings for her. She’d gripped his heart and infiltrated his soul. He wanted to teach her and be with her, yet he also wanted to protect her and wished she hadn’t been cursed with the task of being his apprentice. Blinking the last tears from her eyes, she stared at the crimson handprint standing out fiercely against his stark cheek. She raised an apologetic hand to soothe the flesh she’d struck so viciously. This time he didn’t pull away from her. Instead he leaned closer and touched his soft, warm lips to her forehead. She turned her face up to his, her eyes slipping shut as their mouths touched. “Charlie! She’s out of surgery!” Mark burst into the chapel and stopped, his expression stunned upon witnessing their kiss. Jocelyn and Charlie stood, their bodies never losing contact. “She’s going to be all right,” Mark continued, envy in his eyes. “Thank goodness,” Charlie sighed, following Jocelyn out of the chapel. Mark grasped her arm. “At least now I know why you left me, but I don’t get it. What’s that ghost-faced weirdo got that I don’t?” “Brains and compassion.” She jerked away from him and hurried to catch up with Jocelyn.
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Chapter Seven It was dusk when Charlie and Jocelyn left the hospital. Though she hated the thought of leaving Mara before she regained consciousness, she knew her primary responsibility was to begin her training with Jocelyn so he would be free to destroy Edrik. Jocelyn glanced at Charlie asleep in the passenger seat beside him. He was glad she was able to sleep, leaving him free to consider the events of the past hours. Edrik knew they were close. He’d been so certain that he’d attacked by day, anxious to trap Charlie and learn the secrets Jocelyn had guarded for centuries. Should Edrik discover the rituals of the ancient ones, he would try to conquer the mortal world and bring Hell on Earth. Edrik would never learn those secrets or any others. His desire for knowledge that should not belong to him would bring about his death. Perhaps it would kill Jocelyn as well, but seeing Edrik suffer as he deserved would be worth any price Jocelyn might pay. Charlie moaned softly in her sleep, obviously still distressed. Jocelyn realized that he’d seen the worst part of himself in her. The hatred felt for Edrik and the need for his blood to soak his hands was what had driven him for centuries. It had warped the very core of his being. Staring at the empty highway ahead and the distant mountains capped by the moon’s milky light, he thought of a similar night centuries ago. He’d lain on a field, the snow around him melting to crimson slush as blood poured from his slashed belly. He’d just fought a battle to the death with a master swordsman and lost, but it didn’t matter to him. He was closer to immortal than any other creature in the world and would heal as he had so many times before. Each time he fought and died, it was in a new and more excruciating manner, but he didn’t care. There were only two ways he knew to learn: to find a willing teacher or to die at the hands of a master and learn from the fatal mistake. Jocelyn made certain he never died the same way twice. Such training made him harder than the frozen ground beneath him and numbed him to pain even as he suffered through it. Revenge was all that mattered. It was worth any kind of agony. It was worth the soul he was trading for the deadly skills he desired and needed to punish a monster, the same kind of monster he was becoming.
***** After several hours of driving, Jocelyn stopped the car in front of a secluded New Hampshire motel. Charlie awoke just as he was returning to the car to get their luggage. 66
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“I’m sorry I slept the whole way.” She blinked against the glow of the motel sign as she stepped out of the car. “How are you feeling?” he asked, closing the trunk and taking their bags. “Until I know Mara’s out of danger, I probably won’t feel too well.” He handed her a key. “Our room is the last in the row.” “Our room?” Her eyes narrowed. “I’m no happier about it than you are. It’s the only room they have available.” Charlie never said anything about not being happy about it. Quite the contrary. She’d almost hoped that he’d been coming on to her and she was glad not to spend the night alone after the day’s horrible events. Now his attitude soured her fantasies. To cover her disappointment, she said, “I can think of much better people to share a room with than a relic like you.” “Of course,” he stated flatly, leading the way. Though scarcely large enough for the bed, dresser, and television set, the plainlydecorated room was clean and smelled of lemon polish. The bathroom, with its flimsy plastic-lined shower was so small one could wash, use the toilet, and brush his teeth almost at the same time. Charlie dropped her duffel bag on the bed covered in a tan quilt and matching pillows. Jocelyn placed the suitcases in a corner and stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Charlie would have smiled at the thought of a vampire running for the toilet like a normal guy, except her thoughts churned with Edrik. It terrified her knowing he was still out there, probably doing to some poor woman what he’d done to Mara. Though she knew Jocelyn had to find him, she feared for him. Jocelyn could certainly take care of himself, but Edrik was pure evil. She wondered if anything but pure evil could fight him and win. To soothe her nerves, Charlie unpacked two of her favorite lemon-scented candles and set them on top of the television set. Soon their aroma permeated the room. “Umm,” Jocelyn inhaled as he joined her. “I love scented candles.” “I take it they’re not necessary after—” She pointed to the bathroom, a teasing expression on her face. “I fail to see the humor,” he said stiffly. “Touchy. I suppose vampire poop is odorless.” “Amazing.” His brow furrowed and lip curled. “You are a revolting child.” She took her duffel bag and headed for the bathroom. “I’m taking a shower.” At least the water was hot and soothing. When she’d finished showering, Charlie massaged lotion into her entire body, then paused as she reached for her back. Her belly fluttered as an idea struck her. She already knew Jocelyn wasn’t as harsh as he
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pretended to be. He had a soul, a sensitive side. The thought of his long, graceful hands rubbing lotion into her back—and other places—made her giddy with desire. Her hands trembled as she tugged her sexiest black silk nightgown from her bag. She’d brought that one with the hopes of luring Jocelyn. Just because they were teacher and student didn’t mean they couldn’t become more. Unwinding her hair from its braid, she brushed the rich brown tresses before stepping out of the bathroom, lotion bottle in hand. “Jocelyn?” He gazed at her from where he lay on the bed, his shirt opened halfway down his chest, exposing the smooth, sleek muscles. “You should put on a robe,” he stated coolly in spite of how his glowing eyes swept her every curve. “You’ll catch cold.” “I’ll be warm under the covers in a minute.” “Then get in.” He edged over. “Would you help me put lotion on my back first?” Jocelyn stared at her. He knew exactly what she was doing. A young innocent such as Charlie knew so very little about seduction. He was an expert, trained by exotic masters of sensuality. He wasn’t proud of his past, but he knew the value of it. This girl might think she could lure him, but she would soon learn what an unreachable creature he had become. Rising to his feet, he approached and took the bottle from her. “Turn,” he ordered, pouring the apple-scented lotion into his palms and rubbing them together to warm them. Jocelyn’s palms, slick with lotion, swept her back with strong yet gentle strokes. Charlie drew a deep breath. Her nipples hardened, pressing against the flimsy silk. She shivered as Jocelyn used a fingertip to push the thin straps off her shoulders and continued his fragrant massage. Her eyes closed. “Thank you.” Jocelyn nodded, staring at his hands as they moved over her soft, golden skin. In spite of the delicacy of her flesh, her muscles beneath were hard. The combination was incredibly arousing. Damn, touching her was harder than he thought! It had been centuries since he’d lost control over his body, but touching this beautiful young mortal had his cock poking, stiff and anxious, against his trousers. Without thinking, he tugged the straps completely down her arms. The black silk hung around her waist and down her hips, baring her torso. Charlie shivered, her belly clenching and breasts rising and falling with tension and desire. Pouring more lotion into his hands, Jocelyn caressed her lower back while his lips hovered over her nape. The scent of her flesh and blood was the most magnificent
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torture. Unable to stop himself, his lips touched her nape and roamed across her shoulders. She uttered a soft sound that stabbed him with passion. His trousers and briefs were an uncomfortable prison to his swollen cock. Stooping, he pressed soft kisses down her spine and licked the base, savoring the ultra-fine down of pale hairs. He dipped the very tip of his tongue into the top of the indentation between her firm, rounded bottom cheeks. Pulling the nightgown over her hips, he let it fall from her body and pool at her feet. His powerful vampire heart quickened when he saw she wore no underpants. That was all he could take. Though he knew it was wrong, he needed just a taste of her. Just a taste… Charlie’s legs trembled a bit as one of Jocelyn’s hands slipped between her legs and cupped her soft mound. His long, slender middle finger rimmed her pussy, gathering moisture before he ran the slick digit up and down the length of her clit. She mewled, ready to melt into the rug. Before her legs collapsed, he nudged her gently onto the bed. She sprawled on her back as he dragged her to the edge of the bed and knelt in front of her. Guiding her legs around his shoulders, he buried his face between her thighs. He cupped her buttocks, holding her pelvis steady in spite of how the rest of her squirmed with desire. He licked her clit, loving the taste of her, heady from the scent of her heated body and the sound of her pounding blood. “Oh, Jocelyn!” she murmured breathlessly. “By the Goddess! Oh, Goddess help me!” Jocelyn’s cock felt ready to burst as he switched between swirling his tongue inside her quivering pussy and licking her passion-engorged clit. He ached to sink his fangs into her and explode with the magnificent vampiric orgasm he knew would erupt from the taste of her sweet, sweet blood. “Jocelyn, ahh! Ohh! Jocelyn!” Her voice rose as she climaxed so hard he thought her body would never stop its frantic throbbing and wriggling. It was so beautiful to feel. So very beautiful. Charlie lay panting, her eyes closed and face flushed. Never in her life had she experienced such a perfect orgasm. Of course, she only had masturbation to compare it to. It was nothing like the relentless stroking of a handsome vampire’s tongue on her clit. “That was so…” “Wrong,” he stated, rising to his feet and heading for the door, but not before she noticed the enormous bulge poking against his crotch. “Jocelyn, why was it wrong?” She raised herself to her elbows, her legs still dangling over the edge of the bed. “Because I should never have allowed myself to be carried away like that. It won’t happen again, Charlie, I assure you. I’ll be back after I get some air.”
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He slammed the door behind him, leaving her staring after him with a half smile on her lips. “Somehow I doubt that,” she whispered. Walking to the bathroom, she pulled jogging pants and a sweatshirt from her duffel bag. After dressing and pulling on socks and boots, she took a bottle of nail polish remover and began a manicure. Someone tapped on the door. She looked up, placing the open bottle of nail polish on the folding table beside the television. “Jocelyn?” “No, Charlie, it’s Mark.” “Mark? What are you doing here?” “I saw you leaving with him and I wanted to follow and find out what’s going on. I needed to know you’re all right. Can I come in?” She hesitated, an odd feeling twisting the pit of her stomach. Though she didn’t doubt Mark would be jealous and stupid enough to follow her, his voice didn’t sound jealous or angry. Instead he sounded tremulous, apprehensive. Completely unlike the football stud she knew. “Charlie, please. I just want to talk to you for a minute. Can I please come in?” “All right. Come in.” She’d scarcely opened the door a crack when Mark burst through, sending both of them crashing to the floor. Edrik stood behind him, his hair blood red in the moonlight, his ruddy face warped by a leering smile. “Thank you so much for inviting us.” Edrik kicked the door shut and locked it as Charlie scrambled to her feet, her heart pounding so hard her chest ached. “I’m sorry, Charlie.” Mark pushed himself to his feet and stared at her through two black eyes. Blood ran from the corner of his mouth. In spite of his torn and bloody clothes, he didn’t appear seriously injured. “Don’t apologize. You played your part so well that I might even let you live.” Edrik glanced at Mark up and down. “However I would have imaged such a strapping youth would have put up a better fight.” “Charlie, he’s the one who got Mara.” “I know,” she said, glancing around the room for something to use as a weapon. Edrik seemed to realize what she was thinking and lunged at her, slamming her so hard against the wall that she tasted blood. She wedged her knee between them and shoved. He grunted, slapping her with such force that her lip tore against her teeth. “You’re going to tell me everything I want to know. Everything that Jocelyn has told you!”
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“Fuck you!” she spat, smashing the hard, flat heel of her boot on his instep. His grip loosened slightly. She kicked him again and fled. Edrik caught her arm and jerked her onto the bed. As some of Mark’s shock faded, he yanked the lamp from the night stand and smashed Edrik over the head, leaving the room lit only by the candles. Now they were even more helpless against the vampire’s night vision. Charlie scrambled out from under Edrik and dropped to the floor. Mark screamed and seconds later Charlie felt Edrik’s hands dragging her to her feet. The window shattered as Jocelyn pounced in through a storm of glass and tore Edrik from Charlie. The redhead tried freeing himself from Jocelyn’s grip, but only succeeded in knocking both of them into the television. Glass burst, the open bottle of polish remover flew across the room and ignited in the flames of the fallen candles. Edrik and Jocelyn, their bodies still locked, rolled out of the flames, their shirts burning. The room grew thick with smoke and the fire spread rapidly, blocking the door and window. Charlie’s eyes stung from the smoke as she struggled to breathe. “We’re all going to die!” Mark shouted. “God help me!” “Shut up, Mark!” Charlie screamed, crawling to the sink and wetting a towel which she tried using to beat down the flames to clear a path to the door. Beside the bed, Jocelyn straddled Edrik on the floor, his hands clawing the redhead’s neck. Edrik tried unsuccessfully to escape Jocelyn’s tearing fingers. Finally he reached for a large shard of glass from the broken lamp and slashed at Jocelyn’s throat. Seeing the deathblow coming, Jocelyn jerked back, shoving Edrik aside. Edrik leapt to his feet and dove through the broken window, disappearing into the darkness. Jocelyn pulled Charlie to her feet. “We must jump through!” he said. “It’s the only way!” She nodded, trembling with fear though she leapt through the window and rolled on the ground outside to douse any clinging flames. “Go!” Jocelyn ordered Mark who cowered in the center of the room. Mark approached the flames but shrank back. “I can’t!” Jocelyn placed his booted foot on Mark’s buttocks and pushed him through the flames and out the window, thinking how much he’d wanted to kick his ass since the day they met. Then he sprang out the window behind him. Outside Jocelyn leapt to his feet, glancing around for Edrik, but the demon had fled in Mark’s car. The owner of the motel, shouting and gesturing hysterically with his hands, stood with Charlie who still gasped cool night air into her scorched lungs. Jocelyn approached the slight, elderly man with balding gray hair, owl-glasses, and rotted teeth. The vampire quickly cleared the man’s thoughts so that he wouldn’t
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remember anyone checking in that night. Mark watched in open-mouthed silence as Jocelyn exercised his power over the motel owner. “What the hell are you?” murmured the young man. “Right now I’m your keeper because you need one, boy!” Jocelyn snapped. “Now get in the car before I kill you myself! Charlie, you drive.” He tossed her the keys as all three leapt into the car. Charlie sped in the opposite direction of the approaching fire engine, leaving the motel room burning to ashes behind them. “Mark, are you hurt badly?” Charlie demanded, glancing to where he sat, stunned, in the passenger seat. “Do you need a doctor?” “I think we all need to go to the hospital,” Mark said. “Just answer her!” Jocelyn snarled. “Is anything broken, burned, or bleeding profusely?” “N…No.” Mark checked himself over and laughed. “I went through that window and didn’t get burned bad!” “Charlie, are you all right?” Jocelyn continued. “Yeah. I’m getting used to weird shit happening.” She giggled nervously. “I’ve gotten worse whacks in karate class. Of course, they weren’t from a raving maniac out to kill me, but I’m good. I’m okay.” “Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on here? Who was that guy, and who the hell are you?” Mark glared at Jocelyn. “He’s a vampire. I’m a vampire. He wants to destroy the mortal world and I want to kill him.” “Jocelyn!” Shocked, Charlie stared at him in the rear view mirror. “Doesn’t matter if he knows or not,” Jocelyn said. “As soon as we stop, he’s going with the Coven.” “Coven?” Mark snapped. “Stop the car! Stop the fucking car!” “Just keep driving. Take a left at the end of the street and stop at the white house on the right,” Jocelyn ordered, trying to keep his voice steady as he pressed his palm against his chest. Blood soaked the front of his shirt. Tiny slivers of glass raked his burned back where he and Edrik had fallen on the television. Charlie obeyed. As soon as the car stopped, Mark opened the door and fled. Jocelyn chased him, knocking him to the ground and striking him unconscious. Lights appeared in several windows of the white house they’d parked in front of. A middle aged couple, dressed in their nightclothes, rushed outside. The woman wore curlers in her graying hair. The man hitched up pajama bottoms over a potbelly furred with dark hair. “Jocelyn,” the man called. “That you?”
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“Yes.” Jocelyn struggled to his feet and nodded to Mark. “Take him in the house. When he wakes, all he’ll remember is getting drunk, his car being stolen, and you helping him.” “Mark’s been hurt,” Charlie told them. “We should take care of him.” “He’s been hurt?” The woman glanced from Mark to Jocelyn who was doused in blood. “Let’s get him inside.” Charlie and the man dragged Mark’s hulking form into the living room where they placed him on the couch. Together they cleaned and bandaged the cuts and bruises Edrik had inflicted on the jock. As they worked, Charlie learned the couple were members of the Coven whom she’d never met, as they practiced with their own friends and rarely met with Charlie’s group. “I’m Richard,” the man said once they’d finished tending Mark who lay unconscious, though from Jocelyn’s hypnosis rather than any injury sustained. “My wife’s name is Molly.” She extended her hand to him. “I’m Charlie.” “I know who you are,” he said. “You had the ring.” “Yeah.” She sighed. “I had the ring. I wish I knew as much about it as everyone else seems to.” “Whoever would have thought Edrik would escape?” Richard said, leaning back in his creaking rocking chair. “You better clean yourself up. The bathroom’s down the hall to the right.” She nodded, walking tiredly out of the living room. Even in the warm, knickknackcluttered house that reminded her of the home where she grew up, she didn’t feel safe. She wondered if she’d ever feel safe again. Probably not until Edrik was dead. As she walked over the thick carpet in the hall, she glanced into the kitchen. Molly stood behind Jocelyn who sat at the round kitchen table. She picked shards of glass from his back. Charlie noted the long slice across his chest had been cauterized by the same brutal method he’d used on the first night they’d met. The smell of burned flesh still lingered in the room. Her stomach flip-flopped. She’d witnessed so much horror in the past few days that she wondered how she wasn’t yet desensitized to violence. Glancing at the bloody rags on the yellow countertop beside Molly then back to Jocelyn’s raw chest, she felt a twinge of sorrow for the pain he must be enduring and guilty that she’d been more concerned with Mark than anything else. She rationalized it was because Mark was mortal. His wounds wouldn’t heal overnight as Jocelyn’s would. Suddenly she realized Jocelyn was staring at her as well. “Are you doing all right?” she asked. “Never better,” he replied, his voice dripping sarcasm. “How’s Mark?” “Hurt, like everyone Edrik contacts, but nothing serious. He’ll be all right.”
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“You should probably see a doctor,” Molly said, gathering the bloody rags and tossing them into the trash. Jocelyn shook his head. “I’ll be fine.” “Stay here for the night,” Molly said. “And sit down for a minute, Charlie. As soon as I get rid of this trash, I’ll make some tea.” As Molly left the room, Charlie, still trembling, joined Jocelyn at the table. He took her hands in his and squeezed them before reaching for a moist cloth that he used to cleanse blood and dirt from her face. She gazed into his eyes, so close she could see the grayish ring around his dark iris. The whites were tinted red from smoke, just as hers and Mark’s were. At times he seemed so human she could almost forget what he was. Molly returned and made tea. Neither Jocelyn nor Charlie felt able to drink it. They were shown to upstairs bedrooms that had once been occupied by Richard and Molly’s sons who had long since married and moved away. Charlie lay in the bottom of a bunk bed and stared at the dark wooden furniture and collection of old model cars lining the top of the dresser. She smiled, thinking about how her parents kept her room at home just as she’d left it two years before when she’d left for college. Some ties, like the ones between family and friends, could never be broken. Once such bonds formed, they changed the people involved forever. Mark had tried building such a bond with her, but they were too different. He wanted her to worship him and his accomplishments and look cute next to him at parties. Until meeting Jocelyn, she hadn’t realized just how superficial Mark was. He was a jerk, not just a jock. He had been stupid to follow her, but he hadn’t deserved what happened tonight. Nor had Mara, the hotel owner, or countless others. Edrik was destruction. Unable to sleep, she left the room and walked halfway down the steps. “Charlie?” Jocelyn called, his voice sleepy. “Are you all right?” “I’m just going to check on Mark.” She stood for a moment, awaiting a reply. None came, so she continued downstairs. Sitting in the rocking chair across from Mark, she watched him sleep until the clock chimed two. He wouldn’t awaken until later, and by then she and Jocelyn would be gone. She didn’t love Mark, didn’t even really like him, but he symbolized the innocent past she was leaving behind and she was glad that, unlike Mara, he hadn’t been seriously injured. She stood and walked back upstairs, exhausted and scarcely believing that only days ago her biggest worry had been which painting to start next. Passing Jocelyn’s door, she paused, wondering if he was still awake. At that moment, she needed his quiet, haughty preaching so much. She needed to feel his strength. When Jocelyn was with her, she felt secure and protected in a way she’d never experienced before.
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At the hospital she’d been furious enough to kill Edrik. Though she still hated him, she’d panicked when faced with him in the motel room. She’d looked into his wicked eyes and saw her death. No matter how she struggled, he would destroy her as he had Mara. Then Jocelyn had come. Even when it seemed they would all be burned alive, she had trusted his strength to save them. It had. The door was open a crack, so she glanced in, straining to see in the moonlight. He slept. Disappointment struck her. Quietly, she approached the bed. If she sat beside him, just for a minute or two, she’d feel better. “What do you want?” he whispered. “I couldn’t sleep.” “Neither can I.” “You’re a vampire. You’re not supposed to sleep at night.” “Lately I’ve been sleeping whenever I have the time.” His voice was too soft, as if speaking was an effort. As she edged closer, her eyes adjusting to the darkness, she noticed blood had seeped through the bandage swathing his chest, the skin around it dark and inflamed from the shoddy cauterization. Instinctively she reached out to check the wound. He grasped her wrist to stop her, his hand unnaturally hot. She touched his forehead. “You’re hot as hell.” “Just leave me alone.” He turned from her. “Go take care of your friend Mark if you want to look after somebody.” “He’s fine, but you’re really sick. Why aren’t you getting better? The last couple of times you were hurt, you healed practically overnight.” “I’m fine.” She left momentarily to fill a glass with water in the kitchen. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she held the glass to his lips. Grudgingly, he placed his hands over hers as he gulped the drink. Sitting back, he closed his eyes. Gentle as feathers, her fingertips stroked his hair. Instinct told him to stop her and demand she leave the room, but something even more powerful compelled him to accept her soothing touch and allow her to ease some of the discomfort he’d endured in silence. “I didn’t know you were feeling like this,” she said, guilty that she’d ignored his injuries over Mark’s and that she’d only come to him out of her selfish need for comfort. He often seemed so distant and invulnerable that, like her mother, she thought of him as an unfeeling tool existing for the sole purpose of exterminating a demon. “It can’t kill me.” His sardonic laugh ended in a guttural moan as the motion jarred his chest. “How can I help you?” “You can’t. As soon as I get a nightcap, as you call it, I’ll be fine.”
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“Then you need blood or you won’t get better?” “I will eventually. Slowly, as mortals heal. I just don’t feel like moving right now. I’m tired. Why don’t you go back to bed and leave me alone?” “Why do you get upset every time I try getting close to you? Don’t you like me at all?” Her question actually surprised him. “I like you, but there’s no point in me getting close to anyone.” “You mean you don’t have a wife or girlfriend somewhere, even after so many years?” “Especially after all these years. Relationships are a hassle.” “Love can be a hassle, but it’s also wonderful.” “Love? You’re so young. All love does is make you care so much that you lose yourself, then it turns away so fast you’re left reeling in the bloody aftermath that fades to emptiness. I prefer frigidity. It’s much more sensible.” She shook her head and stroked his cheek. “You must be very lonely. All I want is people to care about. But I suppose I haven’t lived your life. You probably got close to people then watched them die, century after century.” He didn’t speak but stared past her to the empty corner of the room, his vision fading until he awoke in a vermin-infested prison where rats nested in excrementsullied straw and dined on the rotting flesh of those too ill to brush them away. Dozens of lacerations inflicted by a metal-tipped whip had turned his back to an inferno. His vision blurred red from blood oozing from the gash above his eye, but none of the injures caused him as much pain as the disloyalty that had thrust him into imprisonment. Love had betrayed him. For the second time in his life, love had ripped away the shredded remains of his heart. Nevertheless, physical torture was simple compared to memories of her death and the suffering that followed. “Jocelyn.” Charlie shook him gently, frightened by the dullness of his eyes. “What can I do to help you?” He swallowed, wishing she’d go but praying she wouldn’t. She would either be that traitorous love that left him used, or worse, the faithful love that bound him with the beautiful, thorny vines of a rose tree. This young woman confused him in a way he’d never experienced. At the moment his mind was too pain-and-fever dulled to think clearly. All he could do was feel. He wanted her and possessed neither the strength nor the desire to send her away. There was so much darkness and sorrow, but because of her he was no longer condemned to bear it alone. “If you could stay through the funeral,” he whispered. “I do need you.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “What funeral? What are you talking about?” “Sybil. I left her. She couldn’t have suffered. The smoke kills you before the flames do.”
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Charlie felt ill as she realized he had no idea he was rambling about his past. She shook him. “Wake up, Jocelyn!” “Charlie.” His eyes, shadowed beneath and suddenly far too bright against his gaunt face, focused on her. “Go back to bed.” “You need help. Why don’t you get some blood instead of staying here with us?” “Isn’t it like rape to take something from someone who doesn’t want to give it?” “We all survive off each other in one way or another.” For the next few moments she watched him in silence, forcing herself to overcome the fear of what would happen when he took her blood. She had to give it. He’d saved her life twice. How painful could it be, to give up a little blood?” “When you drink blood, do you take it from the neck, like they say in books?” He shook his head almost imperceptibly. “Only if I’m sleeping with someone. The wrist or the hand. There’s less attachment that way.” “Go ahead.” She held her wrist to his lips. Shaking his head, he took her hand and squeezed it. “No. I’ll get it somewhere else later.” “Jocelyn, you’re getting weaker by the minute. You weren’t even making sense a few minutes ago. What good are you to me if you’re sick?” Perhaps if she appealed to his sense of duty, he’d relent. “I want you to take my blood. Really.” Dropping her hand, he turned away from her. “I said go.” “Stubborn son-of-a-bitch!” she snarled, furious at him for making the situation harder than it had to be. Trembling, she walked to the kitchen and took a small, sharp knife from the cutting board by the sink. She pricked the fatty part of her palm with the tip, fearful of cutting too deeply. A bit of blood beaded on her skin. Returning to his room, she found him sleeping. Good. What he couldn’t see he couldn’t protest. She placed her hand to his mouth, wetting his lips with her blood. His tongue, drawn by an instinct of its own, flicked over her wound. His hand closed over hers, pressing it closer to his mouth. His lips tugged gently on her flesh. She inhaled sharply as his teeth, sharper than the head of a needle, bit into her skin, widening the incision she’d made with the knife. Her heart beat rapidly in fear and apprehension. As the initial pain faded, she relaxed, giving in to the wet, tender stroking of his tongue against her hand. Suddenly she became aware of almost painful desire spreading through her entire body. Her clit throbbed and ached as if his tongue was lapping it instead of her hand. Moisture seeped from her pussy. Her nipples felt so hard and tight beneath her shirt. When Jocelyn tugged her sweater over hear head, she didn’t protest, but urged him on with breathless pants. Opening her eyes partway, she noticed his had taken on a reddish tinge. They seemed to gleam with some inner fire before he bent and lapped
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her hand again. His tongue roamed over her wrist and up her forearm. He used the moist tip to tease the hollow of her elbow. Charlie moaned, weakness flooding her. Jocelyn’s soft lips nuzzled the flesh between her shoulder and neck. “Oh yes, please!” she panted, slipping her arms around him, her pulse racing out of control. He was going to possess her. She knew it. And she wanted it so, so badly! As his fangs slid into her flesh, he rolled down her bra, freeing one breast to his warm, kneading hand. At the first drawing of blood and rolling of his thumb over her hard nipple, Charlie convulsed. Waves of pleasure crashed over her. She must have cried out, because his mouth covered hers. His hand dipped between her legs, feeling where she was so wet and throbbing. Slender fingers entered her, thrusting, rubbing, caressing her soft, aching flesh as she gasped into his open mouth. Her tongue flicked out, meeting his and scraping against his fangs. She tasted blood. Jocelyn groaned softly. His cock pressed against her hip. Unable to resist, she unzipped his pants and freed his erection. Holding the hard flesh and muscle, she sighed. The skin felt so soft, yet beneath he felt like steel. A sweep of her thumb over the head revealed droplets of moisture. By the sound of his ragged breathing and the pounding of his heart against her, he was only seconds away from eruption. As her hand pumped his shaft, he bit her again and she was lost to blackness.
***** Jocelyn recognized the footsteps clicking softly down the scum-coated steps leading to his solitary prison cell. He didn’t need to look up to know that a slim, graceful youth with hair as pale as a yellow rose and eyes as blue as a summer sea stood outside his cell, watching. Ten years ago, Jocelyn and his raiders had slaughtered the group of slave traders who had captured the boy and his traveling companions. The boy, no more than ten years old at the time, had watched as Jocelyn, then known as the Pale Witch, slashed the traders’ throats and licked blood from his sword. As the Pale Witch, garbed in strange eastern clothes similar to the traders’ approached, the child had feared him more than his captors. The strange blond had asked if the boy had parents he could return him to, but the boy had no family. Jocelyn’s stern face had softened the slightest bit before he offered the boy a jeweled dagger. He’d promised to make him a warrior so he would never again be at the mercy of savage flesh-peddlers. True to his word, Jocelyn had trained the boy to be a skilled fighter and a master horseman. More important, he’d taught him that feeling, caring, and trusting made one vulnerable. “I only did what you taught me,” the youth said after several moments of watching Jocelyn, chained and suffering, in the cell.
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Jocelyn looked up. Fear momentarily scratched the surface of the boy’s hard blue eyes when confronted with Jocelyn’s stare. Even bleeding and in chains the Pale Witch wielded power like a mace. “I taught you to be disloyal?” “You taught me that to get anything in this life, I must depend on myself, that I should feel for no one but myself. Love is worthless.” Perhaps Jocelyn should have listened to his own advice. In passing onto this boy his martial skills and in loving him like a son, he had betrayed himself. No one could be trusted and everyone had a reason for their actions.
***** Jocelyn’s eyes opened slightly against the stream of dawn’s light shining through a crack in the blinds. Charlie lay in his arms, her hair a soft cushion against his shoulder, her palm resting over his heart. He still tasted the sweetness of her blood on his tongue as surely as he tasted the bitterness of old betrayal. Last night she’d been so adamant about sharing her blood with him that she’d cut her hand and slipped into his bed. He could think of no other mortal who would do such a thing for him—not without a good reason. He’d seen how she’d worried about Mark. She’d come to Jocelyn as an afterthought then pretended to show concern for him. Glancing at her face, soft and peaceful in sleep, he felt an unfamiliar stirring in his breast. His emotions towards her infuriated him. She’d been concerned about him all right—concerned he’d be too ill to protect her from Edrik. As he placed his hand over hers to sweep it aside, she grasped his fingers in her sleep and cuddled closer, kissing his chest. He was torn between his insatiable lust for her and the maddening thought that she was most likely dreaming she was with Mark. He should be glad if it was Mark she kissed in her dreams. Life would be so much safer and less complicated that way. “Jocelyn,” she murmured, her voice little more than breath against his skin. His pulse raced. In spite of the usual feeling of jealousy, it had been easier to think of her lusting after Mark than feeling for him. To know that she had given him her blood freely was terrifying and exciting all at once. He was not a schoolboy looking for a date, but a creature who knew all too well the wickedness of the world and the importance of focus. He slipped from her arms and legs entangling his like smooth vines. Once removed from her warmth, the coldness of the morning sliced his skin. Still, he distanced himself from a courtship that should never be.
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***** Charlie awoke, reaching for Jocelyn, but he’d left her alone. She lay back on the pillows. Last night seemed like a fading dream, both disturbing and pleasant. She could scarcely believe that a vampire had drunk from her. It had been the most unbelievable sexual experience of her life. She trembled to imagine how exquisite it might feel for him to take her blood with his cock buried deep inside her. Common sense told her she should be terrified of Jocelyn and her feelings for him, but she wasn’t. After last night she was more certain than ever that his nonchalance was only a veneer. He might have convinced her mother and the rest of the Coven that he’d forgotten about human emotion, but she knew better. After washing and dressing in jeans and a sweater, she joined Jocelyn and Molly in the kitchen where they sat drinking tea. Molly, wearing a red flowered dress, her hair brushed full about her rounded face, smiled at Charlie and offered her a teacup. Charlie took the seat closest to Jocelyn who kept his attention focused on his halfempty cup. His thumb gently traced the rim and delicately-shaped handle. She remembered how those long, graceful fingers had felt against her skin. “Is Mark gone?” Charlie asked. “Yes. Richard gave him a ride to the police station this morning. He doesn’t remember a thing about last night,” Molly replied. Charlie turned to Jocelyn. “That little technique of yours comes in handy.” “At times,” he said softly. She noted his perplexed undertone and told herself to ask him about it later. “Thank you for your help last night,” she said to Molly. “We’re all on the same side.” Her hostess smiled. “I just don’t think any of us expected Edrik to escape.” “How could he not?” Jocelyn stood. “It was only a matter of time. Death is all that will stop him. It’s all that could stop me.” “I don’t understand exactly how he was imprisoned,” Charlie said. “Why wasn’t he killed instead?” “The one who created him was the one who imprisoned him,” Jocelyn said, his gaze still focused on his cup. “He died while imprisoning him, but before he did, he warned me not to enter the prison to destroy Edrik. You see, he knew how much I wanted to kill him, but he also knew the risk of Edrik escaping during my attempt was even greater. Better to have him alive and imprisoned than risk having his wrath run free in the world again.” “Where was he imprisoned?” Charlie asked. “An Aztec tomb in South America. He was sealed inside and a spell placed on it so it would reinforce the prison walls. It was the spell that stole his creator’s dwindling life. The tomb held Edrik for more than six centuries before he was set free.” “By whom?” 80
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“I don’t know.” “Now you can do what you wanted to in the first place.” “Yes and now I’m ready.” Jocelyn stood abruptly, leaving Charlie and Molly to eat breakfast alone. “It’s hard to imagine him ever not being ready,” Molly commented. “All this is still so strange to me,” Charlie said. “For as long as I can remember, the Coven preached kindness and acceptance of all living things. Nonviolence. Now I find out our sole purpose has been to defend the world from such evil.” “Not our sole purpose.” Molly rested her hand on Charlie’s. “Everything you’ve ever worshipped is right. We do love and respect nature. We are nonviolent—” “Sure, we can be. We’ve put all our violence on Jocelyn. Let him kill. Let him memorize curses and rituals we’d never dare use.” “It’s his purpose. He’s a vampire. Granted, he’s not as bad as Edrik, but he’s still not human.” “Isn’t he? You helped him last night. Was his pain inhuman?” “Of course not, but look at him this morning. He’s healing already.” Charlie said nothing as she thought of the price paid for Jocelyn’s health, both to himself and the one he drank from. She was different. She’d offered herself freely, but what of the people he “raped” as he called it. And how did he feel afterward, knowing he needed the blood of others to remain strong enough to fight Edrik’s wickedness? If he was a different kind of person, one who took what life gave and only considered his own survival, his existence wouldn’t be so painful. But Jocelyn couldn’t accept life as it was. He needed to justify everything. In spite of what he and the rest of the world thought, his heart, not his mind, dominated him. Half an hour later, Charlie lounged in the passenger seat beside Jocelyn as they drove to their destination. “You look better this morning,” she said. “Umm.” “You don’t want to talk about it at all, do you?” “About what?” “Last night.” “What’s there to discuss? It should never have happened.” “Why is it all right for you to help me, but I can’t help you?” “Help you? All I’ve done is complicate your life and nothing about you lets me make it any easier.” “If you feel that way, why don’t you just hypnotize me into forgetting like you do to everyone else? You’re good at making people do exactly what you want them to do.” “I tried.” His voice was so low she scarcely heard him, but as soon as she understood what he’d meant, fury overcame her. 81
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“What do you mean you tried?” “For some reason, you won’t accept the hypnotic suggestion. If I could have spared you any of this, don’t you think I would have?” “Who the hell are you to decide who feels and remembers what? If I wanted to forget giving you blood, I wouldn’t have done it in the first place!” “Yes, you would have because that’s the sort of person you are. You’re too emotional and kind for your own good.” “Emotional?” she bellowed. “Who the hell are you calling emotional?” “Forgive me. Whatever gave me that idea.” “Just stop the sarcasm, Jocelyn!” “Don’t you think you might be better off not remembering some things?” “No. Everything happens in this life for a reason. Besides, the last thing I’d want to forget is what we shared last night.” “It’s something I’ve shared with countless others over the years.” The cruelty of his words stunned her into silence. When she recovered, she gazed out the window at the mountains rolling by in a blur and said, “I forgot I’m just a snack to you.” “I didn’t mean that how it sounded.” He glanced at her, guilty. He hadn’t intended to hurt her, but at times her taunting pushed him to lash out at her. Usually he wasn’t so lacking in self-control. When it came to Charlie, he seemed to have none at all. He should have starved in silent agony last night before ever taking her blood, but she’d come to him so warm, gentle, and giving… “I’m sorry, Charlie. What you did was generous, and I appreciate it. No one’s ever done anything like that for me before.” “Maybe because you never gave anybody the chance.” They fell into silence and soon Charlie slept, leaving Jocelyn to ponder his thoughts. His feelings for her became more complex by the hour. Throughout the centuries he’d waited for Edrik to escape, Jocelyn had met countless would-be apprentices. He’d watched them grow up and die, never truly having known them. When he’d witnessed Charlie’s initiation so many years ago, he’d looked at the little girl, seeing another carrier of the poison ring. He never thought to meet her again but knew that if he did, she would only be another minion in the war against Edrik. He would reclaim the ring, teach her, and leave her without further thought. How naïve he had been, even after such a long life. He’d never imagined the little girl becoming a woman who held such fascination for him. She’d freely given him what he needed most. No one had ever considered his needs before their own. He’d been helped by people before, the same as everyone else. They’d given aid like Richard and Molly, because it was their duty, because they were decent human beings, but no mortal had ever willingly sacrificed her blood to him. No one had truly empathized
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with his suffering. He was a vampire. He didn’t warrant human compassion. Still, she had given it. Last night, when she’d pressed her bleeding hand to his lips, when she’d slipped like warm liquid into his arms, he’d wanted to claim her entirely. He’d longed to bury his cock deep inside her as he took her blood. Fondling her had scarcely satisfied him, but knowing he’d given her pleasure had sated him emotionally, if not physically. He wasn’t sure if he could endure her presence and not succumb to his body’s desperate need for her. He shifted uneasily in the driver’s seat as his cock swelled just from thinking about sex with her. Still he promised himself that he would not repay her generosity with further complications, nor could he risk becoming so involved with her that he lost focus on his task to destroy Edrik. He would teach her and that would be all. Sighing, he pulled the car into a yard overgrown with trees. Nestled, peaceful and solitary, in the White Mountains, stood his old Victorian home. The ride was over, but their journey had just begun.
***** Charlie had drifted to sleep not so much from tiredness but because she needed to distance herself from Jocelyn. Knowing he’d tried to direct her memories made her feel invaded, furious, and rejected, especially due to his open admission of trying to deceive her. She’d thought she was starting to mean more to him than a vessel in which he could empty his knowledge. Last night, she was certain he’d been as emotionally touched by what they’d shared as she had been. Charlie tilted her face toward the window so as not to see him. She pretended he was not beside her, driving silently. When she slept, she dreamed of her paintings. They seemed almost alive to her. The people and places were real, almost tangible. She wandered through green meadows slick with morning dew, past cool rivers lapping her ankles as she focused on the distant mountains veiled in sun-tinted clouds. “He tried to make you forget.” Charlie glanced around at the miles of green valley surrounding her. She was alone. She’d heard voices in dreams before, but never one that sounded so close and so real. It was the voice of a woman, child, and spirit in one. Though she should have feared it, she didn’t. Why couldn’t she see its face? “He tried to make you forget, but he didn’t really want you to. He could have tried harder,” continued the voice. Charlie wanted to speak, but was unable. All she could do was stand still and listen… “I couldn’t let him do it, either, because you should remember always. Help him to know he’s not alone…” 83
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***** “Wake up, Charlie. We’re here.” Her eyes flickered open and focused on Jocelyn who stood beside her, holding the car door open, his hand resting on her arm. Dusk had fallen. She shivered in the cold, unable to look away from him. Standing in the dimness with his stark face, wind-blown yellow hair, his sleek body draped in a casual black suit as a mass of leaves swirled around him in the harsh night wind, he reminded her of a fantasy wizard. He was so remote and powerful in a manner few might notice. His strength exploded beneath the dark surface of his eyes and in every graceful, magical movement of his lean form. “Come on.” He stepped aside. She glanced past him to the home they’d share over the coming weeks. A massive, dark silhouette perched on a rise and protected by a cocoon of trees, the house was a large, old-fashioned Victorian, tall, narrow, and enchanted. “Looks creepy.” She stepped out of the car, smoothing her sleep-ruffled hair, the dream already fading to distant feelings. She’d nearly forgotten what the voice had told her. “This belongs to the Coven?” “Certain members care for it, but I own it.” She glanced at him over her shoulder as she stepped closer to the eerie dwelling. “Figures.” As she approached to help him with the bags, she continued, “Have you lived here all this time?” “No. I’ve only kept it as a safe place to train an apprentice. I haven’t lived here for years.” “Charming.” She raised an eyebrow. “It’s probably overrun with mice and chipmunks and things like that. Being a vampire, you probably don’t care. They’re livestock to you, or do you take from animals?” He ignored her as he unlocked the front door and turned on the dim hall light. “Well at least there’s electricity,” she muttered, glancing around the cobble floor and cedar walls of the narrow hallway. A closed door was to her left, and a slim, steep staircase to her right. “And running water, too,” he mocked. “Well, at least you’ve still got your sense of humor, such as it is.” She dropped her suitcase and placed her hands on her hips. “You still haven’t answered me. Do you take from animals or only from people? And when you take from people, do you prefer men or women?” “Men, women, beasts. It’s all the same to me.” He picked up her hand and kissed the palm she’d fed him with the previous night. She jerked away. “That’s what I get for being nice to a bastard like you.”
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Charlie followed him up the steps leading to the long second floor hallway with five doors on each side. All were closed tightly. He opened the one furthest on the end of the hall and stepped aside for her to enter. She gazed at the large, square room with its dark wooden walls and floor covered with a Persian area-rug that extended from beneath the bed draped in a wine-colored quilt. Across the room stood an antique oak dresser. Above it hung a mirror with a carved wooden frame. The simply-decorated room was lovely, but what pleased her most was the fireplace that took up most of one wall. “I’ve never seen a fireplace in a bedroom before.” She walked over to it and ran her hand over the smooth wooden mantel. Glancing at him, she added, “It’s romantic.” “Saves electricity.” He dropped her suitcase on the bed and left, closing the door behind him. Tapping the brick with the toe of her boot, she muttered, “Don’t be an idiot, Charlie. A dead fish has more ideas about romance than he does.” She turned up the heat to take the chill from the room. After unpacking, she found the bathroom where she washed and changed her clothes before exploring the rest of the house. The first floor boasted a large, rectangular parlor. Persian carpets scattered the gleaming wooden floor. A fire blazed in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the grandfather clock, hutch, and black-cushioned couch. In the corner beside the fireplace was a brass-rimmed vitrine with four shelves, each displaying a variety of rings. She bent to better examine the odd collection. All of them looked very old. The only similar ring she’d ever seen was the Coven ring. The first and second shelves were scattered with plain gold and silver bands, both smooth and engraved, and several silver puzzle rings, the slim bands of which were loosely intertwined. The next shelf held sapphires, rubies, and amethysts, each in carefully-shaped settings of gild filigree, silver spirals, and platinum. On the last shelf rested two silver animal-head rings, a gold gargoyle ring, the eyes of which were polished onyx, and a smooth gold portrait ring painted with the face of a young, attractive woman. Her features reminded Charlie so much of Jocelyn that she had to be a relative. In the center of the last shelf was a plum-colored velvet ring box. Charlie wondered if it was simply for show or if it held another ring. “Do you like them?” Charlie’s heartbeat quickened and she jumped, still not completely accustomed to Jocelyn’s silent approaches. She glanced over her shoulder at him, noting he’d also changed into loose black pants and a v-neck shirt. A lock of pale blond hair dropped across his forehead. “They’re beautiful,” she said. “They look very old.” “They are. I’ve been collecting them for a long time.” “Kind of an odd hobby for a man. Not that anything’s wrong with it, but I don’t think too many men are interested in rings.” 85
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“I love them.” He took her hand in his and ran his thumb over the silver and rose quartz ring she wore on her index finger. “Hands can be so beautiful and expressive. I love how rings call attention to them.” She wondered if he knew how her pulse raced just from his touch. As a vampire, he probably sensed such things. “Would you like to try them on?” he asked, opening the glass door. “You don’t mind if I touch them?” “Of course not. They’re only rings.” He removed a square-cut amethyst set in platinum amidst a cluster of clear crystals and slipped it onto her unadorned index finger. “I really shouldn’t handle that one.” “Why?” “It’s platinum which is highly poisonous to my kind.” “But I thought silver—” “So do most mortals and even some ignorant vampires. It’s for self-preservation. We allowed mortals to believe silver weapons destroy us when in reality it’s platinum.” Charlie nodded then pointed at the portrait ring. “Who’s that woman?” “My mother.” “She’s pretty. You look like her.” He shrugged and sat on the couch as she amused herself with the rings, trying on different ones and touching the jewels and precious metals, until she ran a fingertip over the velvet box. “Don’t open that one,” he said, a tense edge to his usually soothing voice. “I’m sorry.” “Don’t be. It belonged to someone I once knew and I don’t want to see it.” She closed the case and sat beside him, feeling the warmth of the fire on her face and hands. When she touched his hand, it felt a bit cold. “You must have cared for her very much.” “I did.” His gaze met hers. “But not in the manner you’re thinking of. She wasn’t a lover.” “I never said she was.” Charlie smiled slightly. “I know you didn’t. I don’t know why I said that.” He stretched his long legs out in front of him, leaning his head back and closing his eyes so she was able to stare at him without hindrance. His ash-blond brows were finely shaped, arching slightly in the center and fading off toward his temples. His lashes, thick and darker than his brows, created shadows against his sculpted cheekbones. Firelight bathed his smooth, pale throat as she watched his pulse beating in its hollow. The black shirt draped his broad shoulders and hugged the well-defined muscles of his chest and abs. She recalled how it felt to be wrapped in his arms and held snug against that hard, lean chest. The sensation
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of his lips and teeth against her flesh and his deft fingertips on her clit and pussy made her shiver with desire. Sighing, she turned away, not trusting herself to keep from touching him. “Are you very tired?” He opened his eyes to look at her. “No.” Exactly what did he have in mind? Maybe he couldn’t resist touching her again, either. “Good. Then we will start our work tonight. Do you meditate often, Charlie?” “Yes.” “Do you truly believe your mind can roam without your body? That you can relate on a more spiritual plane?” “Of course I do, though I admit I’ve never actually experienced it.” “You will tonight. With me.” He stood, leaving her to ponder his words.
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Chapter Eight Moments later, Charlie and Jocelyn sat across from each other on the floor in front of the fire. “Look at me.” His voice, scarcely a whisper, sounded more commanding than a bellow. Her gaze focused on his until she lost awareness of everything but him. Though he didn’t speak, she heard his order to close her eyes. “Relax, Charlie,” he said aloud. “Let nothing disturb you. Let nothing frighten you.” “I’m not afraid,” she murmured. Calmness enveloped her, like in the moments before sleep, until a wave of energy filled her, stirring her though she still felt wrapped in tranquility. She walked along the edge of a stream, the rocks beneath her bare feet slippery sand smooth, the water cool on her ankles. Jocelyn walked beside her, their shoulders almost touching. She smiled. “I don’t believe this. It’s a real place, but why have you brought me here?” “It’s where you’ll learn the most and speak to others who help guide us through time.” “Ghosts?” “Spirits of the dead, those who have yet to be born, and those who will come again.” “Where are we exactly?” “A place your mind has created, some peaceful place where you feel safe, though you’re out of your body, so to speak. Let’s stop here.” They left the water and sat beneath a weeping willow tree. An elderly man with silver hair braided over one shoulder awaited them. His pale, jewel-like eyes spoke of more years than Charlie could comprehend. “I must apologize to you, young lady,” he said. “I’m the reason for the trouble you’ve witnessed lately. I am Gamel, Edrik’s creator.” “You?” Charlie thought if she ever met the one who gave Edrik eternity, she’d despise him, but she didn’t. Gamel seemed so honest and open, so gentle. “How?” “There is a ritual that many of my kind believe is necessary to create another. I will never again speak of that ritual and risk creating another like Edrik. I was made a vampire by one who existed since the beginning. He was my mentor and my family, my world. When he died, I grew lonely for another of my kind, so I created Edrik. I was
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wrong in doing so. What I thought were strength and courage were really evil and cruelty. Though it caused me pain, I knew he must be stopped.” Charlie paused, waiting for him to continue. His glistening eyes captivated her. His resonant voice compelled her to listen. “You’re an artist, Charlie,” he said. “Let me paint you a picture. Centuries past. A time of stone cathedrals and prospering towns. A world of castles and knights, of manor houses and skies so clear the stars shone like shattered glass on a floor of black tiles. Those beautiful nights shattered with the shrieks of those Edrik destroyed. “Villages washed in blood, people slaughtered, left raped and dying in streets trodden with the metal-shod hooves of Edrik’s minions. He gathered savage criminals who rode with him, leaving devastation behind them. When he grew tired of them, he drained their blood. As his creator, I was shunned. I gathered a small group of warriors whose purpose was to capture this evil creature. Tirelessly, we rode from country to country, sailed from continent to continent, in desperate pursuit of the monster. Only one man showed courage enough to follow Edrik to the last, to goad him into what would become his prison for six hundred years. This avenger’s intention had not been to imprison him, however, but to kill him. Immortal power swallowed his strength. Almost too late I intervened, giving my physical life to protect the mortal and imprison the beast. Near death, I did what I swore I would never do again. I made another. I made a creature of retribution from the one who believed his soul was already lost to Edrik’s violence. This vampire would not rest while Edrik lived. He would wait, readying himself, should the prison crumble and pure evil be unleashed again.” “It was you, Jocelyn.” Charlie turned to him. Jocelyn’s expression remained distant, as if hardening himself to a past too painful to remember. “Why did you hate him enough to give up your mortality?” “Why doesn’t matter,” he said. “It is enough that I did. Now you must learn from me what I learned from Gamel.” “I don’t want to be a vampire,” she protested. “You won’t be,” Gamel said. “All you will do is preserve the rituals for the Coven, to remind them of what can happen would we try to bend the forces of nature to suit our own needs. You should move on now. I won’t be here much longer. Remember I will always be with both of you in spirit. Our paths will cross again one day.” Charlie hesitantly followed Jocelyn back to the stream, every now and then glancing over her shoulder at Gamel who eventually faded in the distance. They walked on. Though no other spirits approached, Charlie was conscious of them all around. “The first ritual is a tribute to the rising moon,” Jocelyn began. “You’ll need two white candles and a talisman of silver…” As they walked, she listened to his descriptions of several ancient rituals. He said he would later show her how to perform them, but it was enough at this time for her to simply listen. The longer they walked, the more involved the descriptions became. 89
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Finally he detailed the actions to be taken and words spoken over the body of a vampire before the death blow was struck with the point of Gamel’s platinum-tipped staff anointed with the Coven ring’s poison. Only the ritual performed pure and true would expel the demon-spirit into the endless void of time and keep the world safe from wickedness. “The spell will work on any sort of evil, human or vampire,” Jocelyn explained. “It will send the spirit directly into the Underbelly.” “You mean hell.” “Call it what you will.” He glanced at her, sensing her discomfort. “Don’t worry. You won’t be present when Edrik is destroyed. Only I will be there.” “Then I’m worried for you. This shouldn’t all be on you.” “But it is. And it’s not your concern. You’ll be safe from him. I promise.” She shook her head. “You don’t get it. I’m not afraid for myself. Well maybe that’s not entirely true. Edrik terrifies me, but I don’t think it’s right that you’re alone in this. I want to help.” “You are helping by learning the rituals and passing them on when the right time comes.” Remember what we talked about, Charlie. The hushed, child/spirit voice of her dream whispered. “Wait,” Charlie stopped, grasping Jocelyn’s arm. “Did you hear that?” “What?” Please listen. The child from Charlie’s painting stepped through the trees, her blond hair full about her rounded face, the hem of her white robe dragging in the stream as she glided towards them. Stop and listen. “Who are—” The stream, trees, and even the little girl faded to blackness. Charlie’s heart raced. She felt as if someone had shaken her awake from a very pleasant dream that she longed to sink back into. She stared at Jocelyn, noting they were once again seated by the fire in the parlor. He stood, his face stark, and dropped onto the couch, running a hand through his hair. “Why did you stop the vision?” she demanded. “It was beautiful.” “We visited long enough. You can lose yourself in such things if you’re not careful.” “It was the little girl in my painting. Sybil. She wanted to tell us something.” “Perhaps it was something we wouldn’t want to hear. We don’t always converse with spirits related to our purpose.” “She wanted to talk to you, Jocelyn. I know it. Who is she?” “It doesn’t matter.” He swallowed, his dark gaze fixed on her. She noticed his pulse racing in his throat. “Tomorrow we’ll work on the rituals again. We can also spend
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some time practicing fighting. Not that the two go hand-in-hand, by any means, but when dealing with Edrik you must know how to properly defend yourself.” “Where are you going?” She followed him out of the parlor. “For a walk. Alone, if you don’t mind.” He slammed the door, leaving her in silence. Charlie spent the next hour inspecting the house. Afterward she prepared a light meal from the groceries Jocelyn had picked up while she’d been asleep in the car. When she’d finished, she tugged on boots and a jacket, deciding she needed a walk, too. Let him wonder where she was, if he ever decided to return. Grabbing a flashlight from the car’s glove compartment, she chose one of the narrow paths through the trees behind the house. Though she felt a bit frightened of walking alone in the dark forest inhabited by bobcats and bears, the spiritual experience she’d shared with Jocelyn earlier had soothed her. She enjoyed being so close to nature as she considered the journey she’d taken with him. Within a short time, she noticed light flickering through the trees. Curious, she followed the light until she reached a clearing with a cascade falling into wide, flat rocks worn smooth by the water’s constant flow. A fire burned in the clearing. Charlie looked around for its builder. Seeing no one, she was about to move toward the fire when Jocelyn rose from the water and stood naked under the cascade. His eyes closed, he tilted his face toward the rushing water. Stepping out of the pool, his slim body glistening in the moonlight, he moved like a mountain lion. Long-limbed and rawboned, his body sculpted with lean muscle, he was a magnificent male specimen. Charlie’s eyes riveted to his cock, thick even in its flaccid state, emerging from a cushion of dark blond hair, the balls below much more than a handful. Charlie moistened her lips, her pulse racing. She should leave him, but felt too compelled to move. Her eyes were drawn to the rise and fall of his smooth chest as he caught his breath after swimming in the harsh, freezing water. His sinewy arms stretched skyward, his long, rock-hard legs gleaming in the flickering light as he approached the fire. He looked up suddenly, his eyes narrowed as he scanned the clearing. They seemed to fix on her and she gasped, crouching behind an enormous rock, her pulse racing. Had he seen her? Smelled her? She knew his vampiric senses were animal-like in their power. Stealing a glance, she sighed with relief when he turned his attention back to the fire. Unhindered by his shivering, he stood and squeezed excess water from his shoulder-length blond hair. His eyes slipped shut as he stepped away from the fire and moved his body in the deadly, sensual rhythm of a martial art form she’d never seen before. Every muscle in his body seemed both tense and supple at the same time. He moved powerfully, gracefully, and executed each move with passion that stunned her. With each stance and strike, he appeared wild and forbidding, a creature driven by desire and emotion as only Jocelyn could possess. Overcome by the violence of his emotions, his endurance seemed boundless until he finally stopped moving as abruptly
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as he had began. Dropping to his knees by the fire, he gasped the cold night air, his face concealed by a veil of damp hair. After a moment, he raised his face to the moon, his eyes still closed, his arms stretching above his head, the muscles taut across his broad back, the ribs of his lean torso visible. She licked her lips at the tight, round globes of his bottom. Suddenly his hands slid down his body. He cupped his balls and curled his fist around his shaft. Charlie’s pulse raced out of control. Heat rose in her face, both from arousal and embarrassment. Jocelyn’s thumb moved over the smooth, ruby cockhead, smearing the droplets of his essence beading at the tip. Charlie imagined licking the ruddy head and running her teeth and tongue along the thick staff. She wanted to taste and suck until he panted for release of unimaginable passion. Oh, what she could do to this man! She could almost feel the smooth, hard curve of his ass in her hands as she squeezed and kneaded. Would he shiver if she lapped the base of his spine and dipped her tongue along the top of the indentation of his gorgeous bottom? Her body warmed in spite of the chill in the air. Moisture seeped from her pussy, dampening her panties. Unable to resist, she reached a hand under her jacket and teased her erect nipples through her sweater. Her clit aching, she wondered if she could possibly come right then and there, just from watching him. Suddenly he reached for his clothes and pulled them on. She was certain he’d seen her. Frightened and embarrassed, she hurried down the path but only got a short distance before his hand closed over her shoulder. “Charlie, what are you doing out here alone?” “Just walking.” “We should get back to the house. It’s cold.” He must have had no idea she’d been watching him fondle himself. Relieved, she nodded and fell into step beside him. When they reached the house, she watched him rekindle the fire in the parlor. Her thoughts looked past his concealing black clothes and remembered the clean, firm lines of his naked body. The memory of the passion he’d radiated still had her tingling. Sitting on the couch, Jocelyn’s body went utterly limp, his eyes half-closed as he watched the flames. Charlie hurried to retrieve her sketch pad. By the time she returned, his face was calm, completely relaxed. She sat on the floor across from him, her back resting against a rectangular stool cushioned in green. Her hand flew across the page as she attempted to capture his face, form, and expression. Once she’d completed several drawings, she allowed her imagination to wander back to how he’d looked earlier, naked, graceful, and so, so lusty in the moonlight. Her hand and mind worked together until she stared at a nearly perfect replica of Jocelyn as he’d looked that night. She drew the hard muscles of his shoulders, chest, and arms. His chiseled abs and powerful legs took shape beneath her skilled hands. She carefully recreated every thick, veined inch of his proud cock. She squirmed just from thinking 92
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about the bulging head and the heavy sac beneath. By the time she finished, she was on the verge of racing to the bathroom and masturbating herself to orgasm. It wouldn’t take much to push her over the edge. Her breathing ragged and pulse racing, she hurried up the stairs and leaned against the bathroom wall, one hand slipping beneath her sweater to tease a tight nipple while the other unzipped her pants and slid between her legs. She was so wet and hot. Imagining Jocelyn’s fingers stroking her, she used a fingertip to circle her pussy. A few quick caresses and her legs weakened, sinking lower to the floor as she came. She stood for a moment, catching her breath and wishing it really had been Jocelyn touching her. Sighing, she cleaned herself up and returned to the parlor. Closing her eyes, she stretched out on the thick Persian carpet beside her sketchbook, the firelight warming her face as she slept.
***** Charlie awoke to the unsettling feeling she was being watched. Jocelyn sat beside her, his back resting against the couch, his legs stretched out in front of him, his booted feet crossed at the ankles. Her sketch pad rested on his lap opened to the nude picture of him in the woods. His gaze fixed on her, furious in his otherwise frozen face. “You watched me?” His voice was deadly soft. “I caught your scent, then the wind changed and I thought it had carried it from the house.” “I…I’m sorry.” She pushed herself to her knees. “ I shouldn’t have—” “You’re damn right!” He tossed the sketch pad aside. “Why must you ignore everything I say? I told you I wanted to be alone!” “I left you alone. I got bored here by myself and decided to take a walk. There you were. How could I not have noticed? Tell me, Jocelyn, if you came across me naked in the woods, would you turn away?” He stood, pacing. “That’s ridiculous!” “Look, I’m sorry—” “Sorry isn’t good enough for some things!” A slow, humorless smile spread across her lips as she stood and met his gaze. “You’re mad because now I’ve really learned something about you. Now I know that beneath that remote, passionless exterior you’re furious, hot, and overcome by your desires.” He stared at her. “I’ll blame your youth for this preposterous display.” She shook her head, still staring into his eyes, feeling a power over him she’d never thought to experience. “You’re a man, Jocelyn. More of a man than Mark and those other macho-types will ever be. You’re the kind of man a woman can’t forget about 93
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overnight. You’re the kind she hopes she can handle because having her body won’t satisfy you. You’ll want her soul, too.” His eyes glistened with emotion as he edged closer to her, backing her against he grandfather clock. “And if she gives it, it would be a mistake for her and for me. Goodnight, Charlie.” Turning on his heel, he left her smiling after him. Once the fire burned down, she returned to her room where she spent most of the night painting and listening to Jocelyn pace for hours in his room across the hall. The heels of his steel-toe boots clicked softly against the wooden floor. Though separated by walls, she sensed his uneasiness and couldn’t help being glad for it. It served him right. He’d been making her feel silly and immature for having desires when all along he had been as ruled by passion as she was. Smiling, she executed several strokes with her brush, making the lake in her painting a violent outlet for the storm in her soul. If for nothing else but to spite him, she would make him admit his attraction to her.
***** The following evening Charlie awoke at dusk, a time schedule she grew accustomed to as she adopted Jocelyn’s vampiric lifestyle. In the kitchen, she found a note informing her that he’d gone running and would be back later to work on the rituals and practice fighting. She fixed her self a meal, wondering if she should consider it breakfast or dinner, then changed into jogging pants and a black bra-style exercise top that accentuated her toned, curvaceous body. In the living room, she dove into her daily stretching routine in preparation for the coming workout with Jocelyn. First she stretched her arms and legs then sat on her knees and arched her back like a cat, enjoying the relaxing yet invigorating feeling inspired by physical movement. She stood and closed her eyes as she concentrated on her breathing, raising her arms gracefully above her head as she inhaled and sliding them down the front of her body, her hands clasped together prayer-like as she exhaled. That was how Jocelyn found her when he stepped into the house. He’d intended to speak to her immediately, but couldn’t resist admiring her strong, womanly body as she stretched and breathed in a deep, steady rhythm that lifted and dropped her firm, full breasts. Firelight accentuated the sleek muscles of her abdomen and her soft face, which was as delicately rounded as one of the beauties she painted. His pulse, which had just returned to normal after his hour long run, increased as his gaze swept her from head to foot. He drew a sharp breath and shook his head, running a hand through his damp hair. After so many years, he was finally losing his mind. This woman consumed his thoughts, day and night. He had not a moment’s 94
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peace, even when he lay in bed, longing for sleep. All he could think of was the taste of her sweet blood and those intimate touches he’d shared with her for too short a time. He could touch her again. She wouldn’t stop him. Rather the contrary. She’d made it apparent that she wanted him to touch her, kiss her, make love with her. Make love. Those words had always been empty for him. Sex and love were as different to him as the sun from the moon—except when he thought about Charlie. She lowered her arms and opened her eyes, looking a bit surprised to find him standing there. “Jocelyn—” “So how does it feel to be spied on?” She stepped closer to him, massaging her hands together slowly as her gaze raked his sweat-beaded shoulders and arms. The wet tank top clung transparently to his body, revealing his nipples hardened by either the chill of standing sweat-drenched in the autumn night or by his attraction to her. She wasn’t sure which. All she knew was the force of her desire for him, but she would control herself until he came to her. “Flattering, that’s how it feels,” she replied. “I’m taking a shower then we can work.” “Why bother showering now?” She stroked her throat with her fingertips. “We’re only going to sweat again. Besides, you’re awfully sexy like that.” His look was a combination of lust and distaste as he shook his head. “You are impossible.” “I’m a young, healthy woman who’s not afraid of her urges, unlike some people.” “Excessive ego accompanies youth.” “You talk like a fortune cookie.” She winked, brushing past him. “Are you ready to start teaching me some of those techniques you’ve spent the past couple of centuries learning?” It was his turn to smile as he led her to the basement. The single large room was carpeted in dark blue and empty except for a wall full of mirrors and a dim overhead light. “Lots of practice space,” she said as they circled one another. For the first few moments, he simply blocked and dodged her attacks without countering as he observed her style, her strengths, and her weaknesses. Though her knowledge was not particularly vast, her basic technique was solid. She was also strong and very quick. Once she appeared comfortable and relaxed her guard, he executed some of his techniques. In spite of how she tried, Charlie found herself on the ground more often than not. He noted that even from the floor she responded quickly with kicks and sweeps, not allowing herself to be intimidated by his greater skill. “Try not to kick above the waist,” he said as he gave her an arm up after catching one of her high kicks and sending her tumbling to the floor. “At least until you’re certain of your opponent. Then you’ll know if such moves are applicable. In a real fight,
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you probably won’t have the time for much observation, so it’s better to be safe and keep your kicks to the waist or lower.” “Well I can say this much, gender doesn’t influence you.” She stepped back for a moment, rubbing her sore lower back. “In case you hadn’t noticed, it doesn’t influence Edrik, either. He takes advantage of any weakness. However, I don’t think you consider your femininity a weakness.” “Not at all. It’s more like a strength.” “And you love to flaunt that particular strength, don’t you?” They traded several blows then broke apart once again. “It’s funny, but you really don’t look like you can fight this well.” She circled him, ignoring how much her bruised body ached from too much falling and not even daring to wipe perspiration from her eyes for fear that he’d use the moment of distraction against her. “I’m really getting tired of people saying that.” “You look like you belong behind a desk teaching school or something.” “I suppose I’d make a rather good history professor.” “I guess so.” She feinted with her left fist and struck with her right, but he caught her wrist to his chest and rolled her elbow forward with his forearm so she was forced to her knees. Rather than try to figure out a violent counter attack as he expected, she leaned into him and kissed his cheek. He pulled back, stunned, and she struck him in the back of the ankle, sending him crashing to the floor beside her where she braced her foot against his throat. “Finally,” she sneered. “I win.” “Not quite.” He moved so swiftly that before she realized what happened, she was pinned beneath him, her arms locked to the floor above her head, her breasts pressed intimately to his, hard, sweaty chest. Staring into his lust-blackened eyes, she parted her lips, waiting, wanting, needing him to devour her. “Jocelyn,” she whispered, her nipples tight nubs of passion, her pussy aching. Slowly his mouth covered hers, his lips soft and pliant. The tip of his tongue traced the shape of her mouth, tickling the indentation of her upper lip. He took her lower lip between his teeth and licked it before slipping his tongue into her mouth and probing, searching. Hers met it with wet, tender strokes. His cock felt like steel against her belly and she ached for it to thrust inside her. She wanted to feel his skin on hers, his staff buried to the balls inside her quivering pussy.
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Jocelyn released her hands so he could stroke her face and neck as he kissed her. His touch was light, graceful, and incredibly sensual. Her pulse raced and her breathing deepened as she slipped her arms around his neck. Completely unrepressed, their mouths discovered one another. She learned the curves of his cheeks, the smooth coolness of his teeth. Gasping, she tightened her hold on him as she pricked her tongue on one of his sharp incisors. He groaned, shifting his weight slightly, one of his legs slipping between hers. Locking her ankles around his calf, she writhed and thrust her pelvis against his cock. His hips shifted, pressing, rubbing. How she longed to tear off their clothes so he could fill her with that thick, throbbing hunk of hot flesh. Moaning, he bit her lip gently and sucked on it. Charlie ran her hands down his spine and slipped them beneath the waistband of his jogging pants. A shudder rippled through him when she slipped a finger between his bottom cheeks. His swollen cock thrust against her, stimulating her clit, plump and aching with passion. Suddenly he stood, leaving her panting and trembling on the rug. He turned away, but not before she saw the unearthly glow of his eyes. “What’s wrong?” She stood on legs weak with desire. “Jocelyn?” “I’m sorry, Charlie, but I can’t do this.” “You did it fine at Molly’s place!” “That was different. I was weak and needed blood. I was unable to resist you. My duty is to teach you. That is all.” “Jocelyn, there’s nothing wrong with two people loving one another. People fall for each other. It happens all the time.” “Not to me,” he snarled. “Never to me.” Turning, he leapt up the stairs two at a time, leaving her behind in fury and confusion, her body quivering with unfulfilled passion.
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Chapter Nine In utter darkness and painfully aware of Charlie as she climbed the steps to her room, Jocelyn sat in the parlor. Never had his emotions been so tangled because of a woman. All his life he’d held his partners at a distance. Even his female teachers whom he cared for had never truly penetrated his heart. Sexuality was completely different than love. People slept with each other to gain something: children, approval, physical release. Emotions were far more dangerous, so controlling. When faced with emotions, one often brushed away reality and duty, creating room for excess feeling. Sexuality and emotions were used to control people. No one had ever desired him without an ulterior motive, and Charlie was no different. All he had to figure out was why she wanted him. Was it simply to satisfy the urges of her marvelously healthy young body? If that was the case, then she had a strapping football player flaunting himself in front of her, so she certainly didn’t need Jocelyn. Perhaps she desired financial compensation from him, or maybe she was simply an unfeeling tease. The thought that she actually cared for him lingered, half-buried in his mind. That idea was more threatening than any other. Personal gain he could tolerate, but when it came to genuine feelings other than hatred and revenge, he was lost and had been since his daughter’s death so long ago. By the time Charlie came down to continue learning the rituals, Jocelyn had collected himself. Apparently so had Charlie. “You’re absolutely right,” she said, tugging a chair next to the couch instead of sitting beside him. “We don’t need distractions. We have a lot to do and not much time to do it in because you have to kill that son-of-a-bitch. The sooner we finish, the sooner I can have my life back. Then we’ll probably never see each other again, anyway.” “I’m glad you feel that way. It will make our task easier.” She stared at him, her expression more distant than he’d ever seen. “I just have one question, or should I say comment.” He gestured with his hand for her to continue. “I’ve always thought the best teachers of magic are the ones who strive for their own spiritual understanding. If they are tainted with bad emotions, then how can they possibly guide someone else?” “I’m not responsible for your soul, Charlie. I’m only here to teach you the motions and the words. What you do with them is your business, just as the condition of my soul is my business.” She leaned back in the chair, staring at him until he felt pressed to continue.
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“I agree I’m not the greatest choice for spiritual guidance, and not just because I’m a vampire. Believe it or not, there are some of my kind who are supposedly quite decent. My demise occurred long before I was made a vampire. That’s probably the best reason of all for us not be become involved.” She laughed. “So you’re giving me this bullshit that it’s for my own good, that we aren’t already involved?” “Think what you want, but do it later. Right now we have work to do.” The night progressed as would become their pattern. He repeated spells and ritual until she could say them almost without thinking. Some were difficult to remember, as they were in languages unknown to her. Jocelyn patiently translated, though at times it took her days to learn them. The next few days passed with unspoken tension between them. With each look and every casual touch, the cord of sexual desire strung between them tightened to the snapping point. After waking each dusk, Jocelyn went for a run. Sometimes Charlie joined him. Afterward, if it wasn’t too dark, they sparred together outside. To Charlie, having physical contact with him without being able to truly touch him was pure torture. She hoped it was the same for him. Each time he positioned her hands or legs to teach her a new technique or correct an old one, she remembered his mouth on hers and the feeling of his body pressed so close their hearts seemed to beat as one. Every time he touched her hand, she felt his lips on her flesh, taking her blood, his tongue soft and rough as he tasted her, his long, graceful finger rubbing and exploring her clit and pussy. At times, when he thought she wasn’t looking, she found him staring at her with lust in his eyes. Good. Let him suffer as much as she was. When not practicing fighting or rituals, they often meditated together, walking through woods, over mountains, and along seashores that seemed so real she smelled the salty air and felt the pliant green leaves beaded with dew. Often they were alone, only sensing the spirits around them. Jocelyn carefully avoided the ones who drifted too close. Charlie sensed his almost terrified desperation to avoid the child/spirit who had spoken to them before. One evening, after a soothing visualization, he guided them back to reality. Sitting across from one another by the fire in the parlor, they held each other’s gaze. “Can I ask you a question?” She wrapped her arms around her knees. He nodded. “What is it?” “What was your family like? Where did you grow up?” “I never really knew my family, Charlie. Only my mother a little bit. I scarcely spent any time with her before she died.” “I’m sorry.”
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He shrugged. “It was a very long time ago. You know how all memories and emotions fade.” “I guess things get easier to deal with as time passes, but does love ever really fade?” “There you go with love again.” He stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles. She noticed he always wore steel-toe boots regardless of whether he donned jeans or a suit. Though the ones he wore with suits were sleekly-lined, she still thought it strange. “Why do you wear those shit-kicker boots all the time?” “They do more damage in a fight.” “Why do you love fighting so much? You’re smart and classy. You don’t seem—” “Like the type? I’ve been told,” he droned. “The truth is, I don’t like fighting. I hate it. It’s messy and painful. It’s stupid and diminishes the soul. Let me guess your next question. Why fight?” She smiled. “Well after that speech, you’ve got me curious.” “Because Edrik has to be stopped and I must do it.” “Why you?” “I hate him.” Those three words dripped with such venom that she hugged her knees more tightly to her chest. “I think that’s very sad,” she murmured. “You can hate so much and so easily, but you won’t let somebody love you.” “Charlie…” He fired her a warning look. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to mention sex. I’m talking about basic emotion here. What could he possibly have done to you that you’d sever all feeling except for anger and hatred and dedicate your life to becoming the perfect fighter when you don’t even like to fight? What do you like? What did you do before chasing down Edrik?” “I had lots of sex.” He flung her a quirky look before standing and leaving her in shock. That was the last thing she expected to hear from Jocelyn who seemed so fearful of getting close to anyone, even long enough to satisfy his desires. When the initial surprise wore off, she retrieved her sketchbook, knowing she’d have to amuse herself for the rest of the night. She already knew most of his strange moods and realized that if he discussed something that touched on strong feelings, he liked to be left alone. She settled by the fire and drew random pictures of whatever popped into her mind. She sketched her parents, some of the buildings at her college, and Mara. She thought often of Mara and was glad to learn she was out of intensive care and recovering well.
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Charlie had phoned her mother when she and Jocelyn stopped at the grocery store in a small town a few miles away. Jocelyn had said Mara was lucky, that most of Edrik’s’ victims didn’t survive. Charlie had exploded at him, shouting that if he thought Mara was lucky then he was either insane or completely cold. Jocelyn had merely shrugged, not a single muscle moving in his sculpted face. She’d wondered what shone in those dark eyes hidden by black sunglasses. In spite of his outward control, Jocelyn had never been able to master the concealment of emotions in his eyes. If she looked intently enough into those large, almond-shaped orbs, she saw everything he felt and desired. Yawning, she dropped the sketchbook onto her lap and closed her eyes. Though she was too stubborn to admit it, training with Jocelyn was emotionally and physically demanding. More often than not she fell asleep while in the middle of sketching or painting. Perhaps it was because she’d been working on a picture of Mara before she drifted off, but she was dragged into a nightmare where she stooped by Mara lying in a bloody heap amidst the smashed coffee table. Edrik stood there, his hair glowing like the hellish inferno blazing behind him as he laughed, his teeth sharp and bloody as a wolf’s after a recent kill. “Come kiss me, Charlie,” Edrik sneered, yanking her into his arms, his hand leaving bloody prints on her clothes. Though she fought him with all her strength, he ignored her blows and drew her closer to his gaping mouth filled with sharp, gory teeth. “Let me go!” she screamed, punching him as hard a she could. “Charlie!” “No!” She jerked awake, tears streaming down her face. It took her a moment to focus on Jocelyn. She buried her face in her hands. “Oh, God.” “Tell me about it.” Jocelyn gently stroked her hair. “You don’t want to hear. You couldn’t care less, remember?” “That’s not true.” He took her in his arms and she clung to him in spite of herself. Pressing her face against his hard chest, she inhaled the familiar scent of his cologne and listened to the calming rhythm of his heartbeat. “It was Mara and Edrik,” she murmured. “Awful.” “It was only a dream.” He rubbed her back as her tears dampened his shirt. “Not for Mara.” She straightened and gazed into his eyes, instantly comforted by the tenderness she saw there. Settling back into his arms, she felt his gentle caresses on her shoulders and back. Finally her crying stopped. They sat together, watching the fire. “Jocelyn?” He gazed at her in question. “I hate him, too,” she said. 101
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He didn’t reply, but continued holding her until the fire burned down.
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Chapter Ten Jocelyn held Charlie as she slept in his arms. Entwining his fingers with hers, he noticed how small her hand looked near his. She was so young and vulnerable to be involved in his evil world. He wanted to shield her from it. Why did he feel so much for her? Emotions complicated everything. He only had room in his life for one emotion: hatred of Edrik. Jocelyn hadn’t lied when he’d told her he didn’t enjoy fighting. Unless he could do something to stop Edrik, he felt as if he’d incinerate in his fury. Now Charlie raked the surface of his hatred and reached for something deeper and far more painful. Why had she asked about his past? At times he could forget what happened, or at least push it to the back of his mind. He didn’t want to talk about the sordid details, the complete loss of self. He hadn’t known who he truly was until meeting Gamel. When his mentor asked for help in pursuing Edrik, Jocelyn couldn’t refuse, though it meant becoming a warrior. Unfortunately, one simply didn’t become a true warrior because it was what someone else wanted him to be. Jocelyn learned the art of fighting as he’d once learned the art of sexuality. He didn’t experience the all-consuming passion for the kill until Edrik had completely destroyed his world. Gamel had provided him with the means of retribution. He had given Jocelyn eternity to live with his sorrow and anger, at least that was what Jocelyn had believed. Now this girl spoke to him of love. Gazing down at Charlie’s sleep-softened face, he heard the thrumming of her blood and remembered the feeling of her mouth on his. He recalled the wet warmth of her pussy as it clamped around his searching fingers. He could almost taste her sweet blood. Knowing he should leave her, he kissed her forehead then her mouth. She sighed in her sleep and cuddled closer to him. His teeth ached for her flesh and his mouth moistened at the thought of drinking of her again. With a racing pulse and a throbbing erection, he disentangled himself from her and left the house. The desire for blood was so great that he shivered, telling himself it was merely from the chill of the night. A long walk would rid him of the heinous passion—or so he thought. Rather than heading deeper into the woods, he traveled toward the town. In spite of the resonant voice that told him he could never have her, the walk only served to strengthen his need for Charlie—and his thirst for blood.
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***** Smoke rose from the hot, bleeding wounds of those fallen on the snowy ground. Horses and men, their bodies pierced with arrows and slashed by swords, their necks and limbs twisted unnaturally, lay crushed beneath the battle weary hooves of the victorious. Jocelyn, his blond hair streaked red with blood, rode among the bodies, gazing down from his lofty seat upon his pale stallion. The scent of blood made his teeth ache and his throat burn with sinful thirst. A warrior, far too young to have seen such devastation, rode beside him, pushing back the visor of his steel helmet. “The slaves have been freed as you ordered,” the warrior said. “The leader of this group is waiting in your tent.” “Good.” Jocelyn smiled, his teeth flashing white points against his ivory skin. Turning his horse roughly, he kicked him to a gallop as snow and slush scattered beneath fleeing hooves. Stopping outside his tent, Jocelyn ignored the stares of the warriors who fought alongside him and looked to him as their leader. He slipped from his mount, his teeth grinding as he stepped into the tent. Kneeling on the worn fur rugs inside, a dark skinned man with hands tied behind his back glared at Jocelyn from beneath thick black eyebrows peaked in the center. One of Jocelyn’s men stood beside the prisoner, pointing a sword at his throat. Jocelyn motioned for him to leave them. The warrior did so without question. “You have the look of a slave,” the dark man snarled, exposing a rotted front tooth, his eyes bloodshot with rage. “Handsome and white. Thirty years ago I could have lived the rest of my life in comfort for the price you’d fetch.” Jocelyn smiled, dropping to his knees by the man, catching the aroma of blood pounding beneath filthy skin. With a gloved hand, he touched the man’s face, his action almost tender yet his gaze filled with such ferocity that his prisoner shuddered with terror. “Perhaps thirty years ago someone did live his life in comfort for the price of my soul.” Jocelyn leaned closer, his voice a whisper against the slave trader’s stubble-roughened cheek. “Perhaps my first real desire for death came at the hands of a pig like you, only it wasn’t thirty years ago, it was two hundred and thirty.” The man’s eyes widened with terror but his shriek was absorbed by Jocelyn’s mouth covering his, his fangs tearing fragile skin as he drank blood to sate his demonic thirst.
***** By the time Jocelyn saw the random lights of the town, the vampire in him had almost completely taken over. He saw in the darkness as if it was daylight. He heard the whispers of couples making love behind the walls of their houses and could smell gasoline from car engines long turned off. Life was everywhere in the scent of salty skin, the murmur of voices, and the echo of heartbeats. The aroma of mortal flesh was
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almost overwhelming as he remembered the taste of Charlie’s sweet blood. His heart pulsed as he sighed with desire. He needed some. Still, he must choose appropriately. Striding to the deserted center of town, Jocelyn glanced at the dark and empty drug store, grocery, beauty shop, and bank. He listened to what was said behind the walls of houses and apartments located above the shops until he heard what he was searching for. “Shut up, you fucking bitch!” a man roared. “But I was home, Will, I swear! I was hanging the wash and couldn’t get to the phone in time!” A slap echoed through the night followed by the sound of heavy footsteps hurrying down stairs. Jocelyn glanced from behind the tree as the front door flung open and a muscular man dressed in a faded T-shirt and stained jeans rushed outside and hopped into a pick-up truck. He didn’t noticed Jocelyn slipping into the back of the truck before it tore down the street. The truck stopped in front of the beauty shop. The driver turned off the engine, finished an old beer that had been resting in the cup holder, and walked to the apartment above the shop. Jocelyn sat on a bench in front of a novelty store listening to the man and woman in the apartment. He heard their wet, devouring kisses and the woman’s moans of lust. He felt the speeding and slowing of their hearts and smelled the tangy odor of their sex combined with the reek of alcohol. Less than an hour later, Will staggered out and headed for the pick-up. “Don’t you know not to drink and drive?” Jocelyn glanced at Will, thinking how much he resembled Mark with his tall, brawny body. Jocelyn possessed more subtle strength that so few noticed in his lithe, lanky build. Will spun, nearly falling. “Who the hell are you?” “Just a concerned citizen.” “Fuck you.” Will’s intoxicated eyes shone nearly as red as Jocelyn’s vampiric ones. He stepped toward the truck door, but Jocelyn placed a hand over his thick wrist and grasped the keys. “You’re looking for it!” “And you’re man enough to give it to me, aren’t you, Will? You vent your frustration on women, why not another man?” Will snorted, his gaze sweeping Jocelyn’s slimmer frame and shoulder-length blond hair. “Show me a man and I might. Give me the fuckin’ keys!” Jocelyn dangled the keys by the ring in the shape of a naked woman. “They’re all yours, if you can take them.” 105
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“Little prick!” Will grabbed the front of Jocelyn’s shirt and slammed him into the side of the truck. Jocelyn made no move to stop the violent onslaught. He clutched the keys as Will’s fist smashed into his face. Blood poured from his fine lips. Jocelyn staggered backward, spitting a mouthful of blood. “You hit like a bitch.” Jocelyn smirked. “Actually, that’s an insult. I know bitches who hit far better.” Will’s next punch was more obvious than the first, but Jocelyn let it come. The force of it knocked him into the pick-up. He clutched the side to avoid falling to his knees. His vision blurred and his heartbeat increased. The scent of his own blood had him trembling with desire as he welcomed the pain accompanying each of Will’s blows. “Gimme the keys!” Will bellowed, wrapping his hand in Jocelyn’s bloodstained hair and jamming his knee into his stomach. Jocelyn doubled over, squeezing the keys so tightly they cut into his hand. He straightened. Will’s fist flew again, but this time Jocelyn caught the massive arm in a lock that sent Will crashing to his back. Jocelyn’s steel-toe boot smashed Will between the legs, wrenching a howl from the victim’s lips which was cut short as Jocelyn’s palm struck his face, knocking him unconscious. Dropping to his knees by Will, the vampire took one of his heavy arms and bit, gulping hot blood. He drank greedily at first, needing the blood to heal the damage Will had inflicted. With his initial thirst quenched, he closed his eyes and licked the wound slowly, savoring the flavor of alcohol-tainted blood until he felt a little drunk himself. His tongue lapped Will’s bare wrist as he thought of Charlie. Her blood had been so pure and her body so warm and willing against his. Jocelyn dropped the arm and stared at the unconscious man. His mind touched his victim’s and willed him to remember nothing of their confrontation but to feel the same horror he felt that night whenever he considered abusing his wife. Jocelyn knew it was wrong to control the will of another, but that was the mildest of his sins. He’d sacrificed his soul when he’d chosen to become a killing machine and could think of no reason to start feeling sorry for his decisions now. Tossing the keys on Will’s chest, he slowly walked home.
***** Jocelyn withdrew his mouth from the slavers and dropped the half-dead body at his feet as he stood. The slaver’s blood coursed through him, warming his body but leaving his heart frozen. He wiped his hand across his lips, a crimson stain marking his white skin. Outside the tent, his renegades sang and played flutes and stringed instruments as they divided the riches they’d stolen from the slavers. Jocelyn had little interest in material wealth except for the weapons and horses it could buy to continue his crusade. His interest was in the 106
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fighting skills he acquired during raids and the freedom he could restore to those torn from all that was dear to them to be peddled for the labor or pleasures their bodies could provide. The aroma of fires and the sound of lovemaking from hidden places in the camp reached his sensitive ears. Some of the men whispered softly and Jocelyn knew many of those hushed conversations regarded him. They accepted him as their leader but he wasn’t oblivious to their thoughts about him. He knew they wondered what he did with his enemies beneath the folds of his tent and why his eyes so often glowed blood red in the heat of battle. Why did he hear the hoof beats of enemy horses miles before they came into view? It was rumored that he had sacrificed his soul to Satan to become a warrior without equal. How many had already challenged him and died? How many had chosen to ride with him for the promise of wealth he offered? The only difference between Jocelyn and other thieves and murderers was his word was good. He delivered all his promises. If he offered them wealth, they were given the opportunity to take it. Yet anyone who crossed him and prompted his hellish temper…most of them tried not to think about it. Some did plot against him but few possessed the courage to act on their plans. Still, during battles, Jocelyn watched his back. He saw in certain faces the hope that he would one day be slaughtered by the slavers and warlords he fought. Fear and jealousy were often the most dangerous emotions, Jocelyn noted. The slaver groaned softly as Jocelyn kicked him onto his back. A trickle of blood ran from each corner of the pig’s mouth as his eyes flickered beneath blue-veined lids. He was trapped in a nightmare Jocelyn had created. Vampires could either make blood sharing pleasant or horrifying. Jocelyn had been more merciful to murderers than to this slaver who was lost to the torments into which he’d sold countless others. If he lived, he would remember the humiliation of the marketplace and the perversions a body must endure when helpless to escape. Stripping off his clothes soiled from the day’s battle, Jocelyn shrugged on a robe and left the tent to bathe in a nearby lake, but not before tossing the slaver one last scathing look and spitting full in his face.
***** When Jocelyn reached the house, he grabbed a change of clothes and left for the lake where he discarded his bloody garments. He swam in the freezing water to cleanse himself of the drying blood and the reek of Will’s body. Shivering in the waves, he noted he would only be able to swim for a few short months before the lake turned to solid ice. When his body started to numb, he left the water, dressed quickly, and buried his soiled clothes. Back at the house, Charlie still slept on the couch. He watched her for a short time, savoring every inch of her lovely innocence, and realized that even though he’d taken her blood, he desired her more than ever. How he wanted to press his lips to her throat
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and bury his face in her breasts. He could almost taste her hard little nipples against his lapping tongue and feel the hot, wet sleekness of her pussy enfolding his cock. Closing his eyes and cursing himself, Jocelyn turned from her. How much longer could he deny the almost unendurable passion he’d felt for her since they met? In silent agony, he walked to his room.
***** That evening, Charlie awaited Jocelyn in the kitchen. “We have to go to the store today,” she announced, placing a cup of coffee in front of him. “We’re almost out of groceries.” ““Maybe we should walk. It looks like a nice night.” “Good idea.” She smiled, loving the idea of strolling with him beneath the starlit sky. She hoped to discover more details of his past. Though she wanted to thank him for his comfort the night before, she felt embarrassed about carrying on so much about a nightmare. Not only that, she’d felt another stirring of the bond between them—something they’d both sworn to ignore. After dressing warmly in jeans and sweaters, they walked side-by-side down the dirt road leading to the town. “This is a gorgeous night.” She skipped a few steps ahead and walked backward, facing him. “There’s a million stars, no clouds, and it’s cold enough to keep us awake. It’s one of those nights that it seems like nothing bad can happen.” “Life can fool you that way.” “Well, Jocelyn, maybe tonight will be good.” She smiled, falling into step beside him and taking his arm. “How about it? Just forget about being dark and brooding for once.” “I like dark and brooding.” “I didn’t notice,” she quipped. “Do you know how handsome you are when you smile?” “Charlie…” “Don’t worry. I don’t want your body or anything.” She winked. “But you do have a handsome smile.” His eyes glistened with scarcely controlled humor. An almost sheepish grin tugged at his sullen lips and Charlie knew she had him. It seemed all men, even centuries old ones, loved compliments from women. “Walking out here like this, surrounded by miles of trees and mountains, makes me wonder what this place must have been like years ago before the land was settled,” she said. “Do you remember what it was like before anyone was ever here?”
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He smiled. “I’m not that old. I visited here long after the American Revolution. I spent many years in Europe, China, and India. I studied fighting styles as well as meditation and the occult. My obsession was perfecting ways to kill Edrik.” “Sorry for mentioning your past.” She held up her hand. “We’re having a good night, so we can’t talk about Edrik, remember?” “That’s right. Why don’t we discuss you instead?” “Me? What’s to tell with me? I’m twenty-four years old. How much living can you do in twenty-four years?” “You’d be surprised.” “Well not me. All I care about is my family, my friends, and my art. Speaking of art, did you know any famous artist? Michelangelo or anybody?” “I met a few.” “Sorry. That’s the past again, isn’t it?” So their conversation continued until they reached the town. By the time they arrived at the grocery store, Jocelyn had told her about centuries of history which she’d only read about but for the first time really interested her. He’d survived the Inquisition where he’d been arrested for witchcraft and escaped before being burned at the stake. Though their Coven’s faith had nothing to do with the religion of Witchcraft, he point out that conventional people shunned all things they didn’t understand. He’d known famous artists and writers such as Raphael, Dumas, and Dickens. He’d watched the building of cathedrals that still stood throughout Europe today. Though he witnessed history, he often spent decades at a time in complete seclusion in the mountains of China or the Rain Forests of South America. He spoke of historical details and was careful not to mention his riding with the band of renegades or his vendetta against the slavers of Istanbul. He imagined her disapproval of his vengeful behavior as he remembered their argument when she’d discovered he had attacked the two youths in Boston. Though she had been thrust into this battle with Edrik, Charlie was too far removed from the brutality of Jocelyn’s life to truly understand his actions. At times he didn’t even understand himself. Had he only been acting on his need to learn how to destroy Edrik, or did some part of him relish the violence? He fantasized that she would accept him and become his absolving angel. She would take him into her arms and save what was left of his heart. Of course that was a dream. He could never trust either of them enough to bare so much to her, so instead of feelings, he lectured on history as she watched him with a fascinated expression on her lovely face. In spite of Charlie’s avid interest in all he had to say, she was disappointed that he avoided speaking of his personal past. What was he hiding? He didn’t mention any lovers, and she wondered what he meant when he said he had “lots of sex.” Perhaps he had just said it for shock value, but she doubted it. Jocelyn had little interest in shocking anyone. He was too serious.
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As he spoke in his quiet, accented voice, she almost felt as if she was back in college listening to the most captivating professor in the world. He elaborated on details, but never mentioned emotions. She knew better than to pressure him. One day he would reveal everything and she would truly know him. That thought frightened as much as aroused her. Once she really knew Jocelyn, she would be lost to him. Inside the grocery store, they chose a few necessary items such as bread, coffee, tea, soup, and fruit. As they stood in the produce section choosing apples from a bin, a tall, brawny man sporting a taped nose and two black eyes wheeled a cart full of cereal boxes out of the storeroom and accidentally bumped into Jocelyn. “Look out.” The clerk whose nametag read “Will” glared at Jocelyn. When he didn’t step aside, Will looked about ready to make an even less courteous comment until his bloodshot eyes met the vampire’s. Charlie watched them stare at one another for several heartbeats before the clerk murmured, “Excuse me, Sir.” Jocelyn stepped aside slightly as the clerk wheeled the cart away. “It’s amazing what people hire,” Charlie said. “Did you know him?” “No.” “With an attitude like he’s got, I can see why someone busted his nose. Jerk probably beats up his wife or girlfriend.” Not anymore, Jocelyn thought to himself, tying up the plastic bag of apples and following Charlie to the checkout line. After paying for their groceries, they walked home, each carrying a shopping bag. “When we get home, we should workout, have dinner then read by the fire. I’ve been looking at your upstairs library. You have so many great old books. I can understand why you’re not bored without a TV or radio.” “I detest TV. I never could get used to it.” “Do you like plays?” “Yes. Sometimes.” “Maybe someday when all this is over we could see one together…That is if we ever see each other again.” He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “If we do, we’ll make a point to see a play.” She smiled to herself as they left the town square. Soon the tar road turned to dirt. A few miles out of town, they were completely alone. Few houses stood among the treecovered mountains. Stars shone brilliantly in the clear, cool night. Charlie hurried to keep up with Jocelyn’s long strides. Though she tried making trivial conversation, he seemed deep in thought. Suddenly he stopped walking. “What’s wrong?” She glanced around. “It’s not Edrik, is it?” He shook his head. “Do you smell that?”
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“What?” “Smoke.” She inhaled deeply and was about to answer negatively when she suddenly caught the faint scent wafting on the breeze. “Someone probably has a fire going.” “No. Do you hear that?” “Hear what? Jocelyn!” He dropped the grocery bag and ran, leaving her fumbling with her flashlight as she picked up his discarded bag and chased after him. A short distance up the road, she heard what his keener senses must have picked up. Children cried and a woman screamed. The odor of smoke strengthened. Flames devoured a small house set back off the road. Charlie dropped both bags and raced to join Jocelyn who stood with a disheveled young woman shivering in a nightgown as she gathered twin toddlers into her arms while an older girl of about five clung to her back. “Are you all right?” Jocelyn shouted above their screaming. “My husband is inside looking for our son!” she shrieked. “God, they’re dead. I know it!” “Calm down,” Charlie tried to sound reassuring. “I’m going back to the town for help.” Without a word, Jocelyn disappeared into the house. Charlie screamed for him, but he ignored her. “Fuck it!” Charlie turned and raced toward the town, hoping she wouldn’t fall and break her leg in the dark before she reached her destination.
***** Inside the house, thick smoke impeded even Jocelyn’s enhanced vision. The sound of the fire and creaking of the collapsing house nearly deafened him as his vampiric side took over completely. Fortunately, his taking of blood the night before ensured that he was at his physical peak. He had time before the smoke and flames mastered his endurance. Above the burning stench, he caught the human scent and followed it through a hallway scattered with flames. He raced up a staircase to the closed door of a bedroom. He detected two heartbeats, both dangerously faint. Pushing at the door, he realized the father had fallen behind it. Flames spread rapidly. There was little time before they were all trapped inside. Fire was as deadly to a vampire as it was to a mortal. Even so, Jocelyn was determined that none or all of them would leave the house that night. Stepping slightly back, he kicked the door open and pulled out both the man and the child who had rolled under the bed. His eyes stinging and lungs aching, Jocelyn 111
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dragged them through the hallway and down the stairs. As he stumbled out the door, the woman rushed to help him, picking up her son as Jocelyn dragged her husband to safety. He collapsed on his knees in the dirt, coughing and gasping. “Oh my God! My God!” the woman cried. “Thank you so much!” Sirens roared up the road, but before they arrived, Jocelyn wiped the woman’s mind of his presence so all she would remember was her husband rescuing their son from the fire. Jocelyn disappeared in the trees while the town’s single fire engine and police car arrived followed by an ambulance. Hiding in the bushes, he willed his hands to stop trembling. He had lost complete control of himself when he’d learned people were trapped by the fire. It called forth too many memories. To have a child die in a coffin of flames was unendurable. He’d done for the young couple’s son what he should have been able to do for his own child. “Jocelyn! Thank goodness.” Charlie sighed, flopping onto the ground beside him and running a hand through her disheveled, sweat-dampened hair. “I figured you wouldn’t want anybody to know you were here, but I got scared when I couldn’t find you. I was afraid you might still be inside.” “They’re all right?” he asked softly. “Yes.” She glanced at him. “I know that guy didn’t pull his kid out.” “Let them think it. It doesn’t matter.” He pressed his palms to his fiery eyes. “Are you all right?” She touched his shoulder. He jerked away. ““I’m fine, thanks. Are you?” “Sure. That’s the fastest two miles I’ve ever run in my life. I’m glad most of it was downhill.” The police car sped off and Charlie glanced at the house, watching the firemen work. Her body was finally cooling down after the long run, and she felt chilled. Jocelyn also shivered. “Let’s go back to the house and warm up,” Charlie suggested. He stood but didn’t speak. As they walked home, she strained to see him in the darkness. When she’d found him, his expression had been stunned, but she expected that was from the trauma of rescuing two people from a burning house. Then she remembered what Jocelyn was and all he’d done and seen without flinching and realized something far deeper gnawed at him. “Are you sure you’re all right?” “You’ve asked me that about thirty times already,” he said. “I don’t like your answer.” “I said I’m fine.”
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When they reached the house, his hands trembled so badly that it took him several tries before unlocking the door. Inside, he walked directly to his room. Concerned, Charlie followed and knocked on his door. “Leave me alone, Charlie,” he said. “I want to make sure you’re all right.” “I’m fine!” he bellowed. “Just leave me alone!” She stepped back from the door, stunned by his tone. Worry overshadowed her fear and she stepped inside anyway. Seated on the bed, he hugged his knees, his hair concealing his face, but as she stepped closer his head jerked up and he fired her a furious look. “Damn it! Don’t you know what the word privacy means?” “Yeah. I also know what messed up means. What’s wrong with you? Are you hurt? Do you need blood again?” “Get out!” He sounded enraged but his gaze reflected such inconsolable pain that she knew his temper concealed emotions far more frightening to him than anger could ever be. She stepped closer and sat beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder. In spite of the warmth in the room, he shivered beneath her palm. “You’ve never left me when I needed you,” she said. “I don’t need you.” “Yes, you do.” She curled her fingers gently in the hair at his nape. “Don’t you understand that I want to be alone?” His gaze pleaded with her and she realized he struggled against his desire for her comfort. She should do as he asked and leave him with his problems. The more she cared for him, the more he would hurt her in the end. Still she was unable to turn him away when he needed her more than he realized. “Why should I go?” she asked. “When I’ve been upset, angry, or afraid, you’ve never left me. You even let me slug you.” A sad smile tugged at his lips. “I didn’t mind. It’s what I’m supposed to do for you.” “No, it’s not.” She slid closer to him. “You’re supposed to teach me, remember?” “Charlie, I’m not in the mood to argue.” He draped his arm around her waist and rested his cheek against hers for a long time. “We smell like smoke,” he commented. “I’m taking a shower.” She sat back on her heels and brushed her hair behind her ears. “You’ll be okay?” Though she was relieved Jocelyn had been able to help the family, she couldn’t forget the haunted look in his eyes and the way his body had trembled against hers for so long she thought it would never stop. She thought he feared nothing, but whatever
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memories the fire incited terrified him. If she could persuade him to tell her, she could help him. After showering and dressing, she brought her sketchbook to the parlor and waited for Jocelyn. Dressed in black, he descended the steps, his freshly washed hair combed back from his smooth-shaven face. She placed aside her sketchbook and glanced at the cloth-bound volume he held. “You said you wanted to read.” He sat beside her. “What is it?” “Wuthering Heights.” “Dark love.” She pulled her bare feet up under her and settled into the couch pillows. “I love that story.” “I thought you would.” He opened the book and held it out to her. “You read first. I like your accent.” “I never thought I had an accent.” She smiled coyly. She read until her voice grew tired then passed the book to him. Leaning back, she enjoyed the sound of his cultured voice as she watched him intently. His eyes lowered toward the pages, his thick lashes casting shadows against his sculpted cheekbones. She noticed a profound sensitively he struggled to, and often succeeded in, hiding from the world. She’d seen him furious and intense. She’d glimpsed of his sadness, and tonight she’d witnessed his fear. Slowly, without meaning to, he was revealing to her exactly who he was and she could scarcely believe the truth she was uncovering. When he finally placed the book aside and looked at her, he was drawn into the intensity of her expression. “What?” he asked. She shook her head, her eyes narrowing. “I’m not sure exactly. Are you ever happy, Jocelyn? Have you ever been truly happy?” He glanced at the book, running his long fingers over the spine. “Is anyone ever truly happy?” “What scared you so much tonight, even after everyone was safe?” Several times he looked ready to speak, but couldn’t find the appropriate words. She waited patiently until he finally said, “I lost someone in a fire once. I should have been able to help her, but I couldn’t.” “I’m sorry.” She moved closer, touching his shoulder. “You must have loved her very much.” “I did.” Charlie nodded as part of her grieved with him while another part of her felt a twinge of jealousy that he’d loved someone so much but refused to even try loving her. “You shouldn’t be guilty about it,” she said.
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“Shouldn’t I?” He glanced at her, his expression once again hard and remote as he stood and walked toward the steps. “I’m going to my room, Charlie. This time do not follow.” She drew a deep breath, torn between tears and rage as she whispered, “Don’t worry. I won’t.”
***** Alone, Jocelyn lay on his bed watching moonlight cast shadows on the ceiling and listening for the sound of Charlie’s steps as she walked to her room. His longing for her comfort surprised him more than he wanted to admit. His reaction after the rescue earlier had shocked him. Over the years he’d faced far worse situations, but the thought of innocents trapped by flames had rekindled the worst of his memories. Charlie had no way of knowing how much she’d soothed him with her persistent gentleness. Until she’d forced her way into his room, he hadn’t realized how much he needed her.
***** Jocelyn had cut off his silky, elbow-length hair to bury with what was left of her body. The back of his bare neck looked incredibly vulnerable as he knelt with his head bowed toward the stone floor, his palms flat against the wall. His body ached from the hours he’d spent upon the cold stone, but it was nothing compared to the ferocious pain in his heart. Though the fire that consumed her had died out long ago, the stench of it still hung on the air. With every bitter breath, he felt her loss anew. “Jocelyn, you’ve been here most of the night,” Gamel said. Jocelyn didn’t respond, hearing nothing but the cries of his grief-stricken heart. Earlier that night as they’d returned home, they’d seen the flames over the rise in the dirt road. Even Gamel couldn’t catch Jocelyn as he violently kicked his mount and veered off the clear road, galloping over the dangerously rocky but considerably shorter path toward the village glowing with flames. His pale hair and the horse’s white tail lashed like whips in the windy, smoke thickened night. In spite of his desperate approach, the damage was already done. When he’d learned of her death, madness glistened in his dark eyes. In a fit of grief that rendered him momentarily insane, he’d used a dagger to slash off his beautiful hair, taking part of his scalp along with it. Such behavior was completely unexpected by everyone in the village who considered him void of emotion. Only Gamel knew better, but even he hadn’t been prepared for the force of Jocelyn’s sorrow. The excess emotion was short lived. Jocelyn remained quiet throughout the funeral and retired to his room directly after, remaining there for most of the night. In the morning, Gamel had joined him out of concern.
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“Jocelyn,” Gamel touched his shoulder. He jerked away. “Don’t touch me.” “You can’t be alone in this.” Gamel pressed, only to be met with frosty silence. “I won’t allow it.” “Neither of us should have allowed this to happen, but we did.” Jocelyn turned red-tinged eyes to his mentor. Gamel nodded, leaving him to the coldness of stone walls and grief.
***** The following evening after practicing rituals, Jocelyn told Charlie he would teach her the most effective method of destroying a vampire. The night was unusually warm for autumn as she followed him to the back of the house. He lit four torches standing in each corner of the grassy backyard and forming a perfect, empty square in the center of the surrounding trees. Between two of the torches stood a wide brick wall, creating a barrier between the yard and a steep drop to a pathway below tangled with twisting roots and sharp rocks. Charlie liked to sit on the wall and meditate. She’d seen Jocelyn practicing martial arts on it, but she’d never tried for fear of falling to the path below. She sat on the wall, two polished wooden staffs in her hand and watching as he lit the last torch. The yard was now bright enough for her to see easily in spite of the late hour. As he approached, she tossed him one of the staffs and leapt lightly off the wall. They had often practiced with weapons and she had trained with a staff since she was twelve. “The surest way to kill a vampire is to pierce the heart. Not just graze it, but pierce it hard and deep. As you imagine, doing so is not easy, particularly when dealing with one as skilled as Edrik.” “Then you’ve fought other vampires?” “Yes. I actually perfected my skills with a staff for this purpose by learning from another vampire, one I trained with in China more than four hundred years ago. You and I will be using these blunt staffs, but with any luck, should you have to kill a vampire, you will use one with a pointed tip made of wood or metal, and you must anoint it with the elixir in the ring. Even if you don’t strike the heart, the elixir will surely destroy the vampire. Also, as I said before, we are highly allergic to platinum, so a platinum tip can be used for added power.” “You have the ring now, not me.” “Here.” He reached into the pocket of his warm-up jacket and took out an antique amethyst ring she had seen in the parlor vitrine. He took her hand and slipped it onto her index finger. His warmth spread through her like on the first night they’d met.
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“I put some of the elixir in it for you,” he said. “I’ll be very careful with it.” She admired the stone. “As soon as Edrik’s dead, you’ll get this ring back.” He shook his head, stepping away and spinning his staff a few times to loosen his wrists. “It’s yours.” “Jocelyn, I can’t take this.” She approached him and he struck out with his staff, forcing her to block with hers. “Sure you can. I want you to have it.” “But—” “Shut up and fight.” For the next few moments they traded blows to warm up then his attacks worsened. She called upon her greatest skill and concentration just to defend herself, let alone attempt any counters. “Come on, Charlie, you’re not going to save yourself from Edrik this way,” he said, nearly striking her temple with the edge of his staff. “Isn’t fighting Edrik your problem?” she demanded, unsuccessfully aiming for his throat. “Hitting me there will do you little good. Aim for my heart and strike hard.” “I’m doing the best I can!” she snapped, furious at his uncharacteristic impatience. “You have a hell of a lot more experience than I do, you know!” “Don’t give me that trash, Charlie. You’re strong, fast, and know exactly how to use that weapon to hurt someone. If Edrik gets you again, you might not be so lucky unless you can fight him.” The thought of that night in the motel room quickened her heartbeat. Should she ever be faced with Edrik again, she knew she hadn’t the slightest chance of defending herself. He was too strong and too evil. “If I was Edrik, you’d have to use that staff to get away from me alive.” “But you’re not Edrik,” she panted, her arms aching from blocking his forceful blows. Jocelyn noticed her faltering confidence and tried a different approach. “He must have loved taking Mara’s blood. I can only imagine the thrill he felt.” “That’s disgusting! How can you say that to me?” “Because it’s true. Her blood must have been so hot and fragrant with fear and pain. Her horror must have been so sweet. I can almost taste it myself.” Rage burned inside Charlie. How could he speak so callously about Mara’s ordeal? How could he have been compassionate at the hospital but a monster now? Anger forced her skill to its peak. Soon it was Jocelyn who defended himself against her barrage of blows.
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“I bet he was still tingling with the lust of her blood even as he dipped your brush into her wounds and painted his masterpiece on the parlor wall—” “Fuck you!” She blocked his overhead strike and lashed out so hard and fast with one end of her staff that she finally found her mark directly over his heart. The impact on the vampire’s only vital organ forced him to his knees as he clutched a hand to his chest. His hair fell over his face as he bent forward, so he didn’t see her overhead strike. It fell across the back of his neck and knocked him downward so he scarcely had time to break the fall with his hands. Instinctively his leg lashed out and swept her feet out from under her, sending her crashing to the grass. Charlie grunted as she hit the ground and remained there for a few seconds, catching her breath. Jocelyn was the first to recover and sprang to his feet, offering her his hand. She took it, her gaze fixed on his. “Excellent,” he said. “You stunned even me.” “You weren’t expecting it.” She hated the quiver in her voice. Her hands trembled with the surge of emotions he’d aroused. Now that she’d calmed a bit, she understood why he’d spoken so cruelly. “No, and I haven’t underestimated anyone in a very long time,” he admitted. “None of us are ever too old to learn.” “I’m sorry if I hurt you.” She tried pulling her hand from his. “Don’t worry about it. You needed to know you can fight us. Edrik is powerful, but you are not necessarily at his mercy, not as long as you’re my apprentice.” “I couldn’t have asked for a better teacher.” Her eyes reflected her sincerity. “Nor I a better student.” He dropped her hand, collected their weapons, and placed them against the wall. “I think that’s enough for tonight. You may go inside if you want. I’m staying here for a while longer to practice.” “Do you mind if I watch?” she asked. Not only did she find watching him move aesthetically pleasing, but she learned much from observing his technique. Settling herself on the wall, she stretched her arms and shoulders before she became so involved in him that she remained still. In the center of the yard, he practiced kata, a pre-planned series of movements resembling a powerful, graceful dance, though it was actually a mock fight against imaginary opponents. She’d never seen anyone perform with his liquid grace and subtle power born from natural talent as well as centuries of practice. As she watched the play of muscles beneath the black tank top clinging to his perspiring body, her pulse raced. She imagined what it would feel like to be enveloped in his sinewy arms, to feel every inch of his lithe form with her hands and lips. As if sensing her thoughts, he turned to her, his dark eyes reflecting the torch flames, his lips parted slightly as he caught his breath.
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Desire shone in her eyes and her hand stroked her own bare arms. The tight fitting black exercise bra she wore accentuated her firm, full breasts. Each day he cursed the form-fitting attire because it evoked feelings in him he tried desperately to deny. He turned his back to her, poising to continue his workout and wishing she’d go away and leave him alone so he could concentrate on practice instead of on her. Lightning flashed in the distance. He gazed skyward as drops of rain pelted his hot skin though they did nothing to cool his passion for Charlie. He turned and walked toward the wall to collect the weapons before going inside and locking himself in his room, away from her. She still hadn’t moved but sat on the wall staring at him as rain drenched her skin and hair, slickly defining the muscles of her arms and shoulders. Desire burned in her eyes. Her breasts rose and fell and he heard her heart pounding above the storm. His pulse quickened and every part of his body responded to the raw sexuality she exuded. Instead of reaching for the weapons, he grasped her shoulders and kissed her. His mouth moved gently against hers. Parting her lips with the tip of his tongue, he explored her mouth with deep, tender strokes. Charlie gave herself over to him completely. Closing her eyes, she slid her arms around his neck and locked her legs around his waist, holding him tightly as her tongue met his. Her nipples hardened from the chilly rain and from his nearness. They pressed against his chest. His lips moved from her mouth to her temple and the curve of her neck, pressing soft kisses to even softer skin. Charlie shivered from the marvelous, tickling sensation of his lips on her neck. She wove her fingers through his hair and murmured, “Don’t stop this time, Jocelyn. Please don’t stop.” “I won’t.” His voice sounded husky. “I want to possess you. I want to make you feel everything. I want to feel you, Charlie.” “Jocelyn!” She clung to him as his lips moved down her throat, warming rainchilled flesh. The faint, moist touch of his mouth had her shivering with need. His hands slid down her shoulders and across her flat belly. He cupped her breasts, his thumbs caressing her pebble-hard nipples through the wet, clinging fabric. Moaning softly, she closed her eyes and arched into his hands. Passion stabbed her, weakening her limbs though her legs instinctively drew him closer. “My God, you are beautiful,” he murmured, stroking her throat, his lips following the trail left by his fingertips. Hesitantly he stopped kissing and waited as her passionfilled gaze fixed on his. “We should go inside before the storm gets worse.” “Only if you promise not to forget where we left off.” He smiled in reply, guiding her off the wall with his hands on her waist and not losing contact with her body even for a second as they walked to the house. They no sooner opened the glass doors leading to the living room when they leaned the staffs against the wall and he tugged her into his arms, his mouth falling on hers in 119
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a hungry kiss drawn from his very soul. She clung to him, breathless, as his mouth traveled from her throat to her navel, his tongue leaving a hot trail across her skin. Dropping to his knees, he slid off her pants, revealing every inch of her long, shapely legs, the muscles hard and firm from years of low stances and powerful kicks. Her pants pooled around her ankles and he lifted each of her feet, removing the pants completely before hooking his fingers in the waist of her panties. “Oh, Jocelyn,” she sighed as he tugged off the panties and she stepped out of them and kicked them aside. Before she had a chance to move, he grasped her buttocks and tugged her pelvis to his mouth. His long, graceful fingers kneaded her bottom as his tongue flicked out, circling her clit. Charlie gasped. The sensation was earth shattering as his soft lips fastened on her clit and tugged gently. The tip of his tongue ran up, down, and along the sides of the plump nub. Charlie’s entire body caught fire. If he kept up the lapping and sucking any longer, she’d explode. Jocelyn sensed this, but didn’t care. He felt the excitement in her body, the tension and eagerness for release. Better to get the first one over quickly so he could take his time and make love to her in the only way he could imagine. He wanted to use every bit of his skill to utterly please this beautiful young woman whom he cared for so deeply. He continued licking, tasting the moist, delicate folds of lovely pink flesh while clutching handfuls of her smooth, tight buttocks. Jocelyn’s cock swelled and ached with desire, but he didn’t care about ramming it inside her. Not yet. His pleasure would come through her. “Oh, Jocelyn, I can’t stop it, I can’t!” she moaned, her buttocks clenching and legs shaking as she came. He supported her almost completely as he continued licking and thrusting his tongue inside her as she quivered, pulsed, and mewled in fulfillment. Guiding her to the rug, he stretched out beside her, stroking her breasts and gazing at her face as she rested for a moment. Jocelyn’s cock ached with pleasure/pain. He’d planned to wait a long time before satisfying himself, but he wasn’t sure he could do it. No stranger to sexuality, he’d once been prized for his ability to hold his passion at bay, to perform at will. Yet when it came to the sharing of physical pleasure with someone he loved, he was as much a virgin as she. Long ago he’d learned that sex and love had nothing to do with each other, but tonight, with her, he experienced something completely at odds with his beliefs. Charlie’s eyes opened and she smiled slightly at him, reaching for his cock. Her hand curved around it, her touch frustratingly light. As if sensing his need, she squeezed it hard, pumping the shaft and running her thumb over the head. “Put it inside me,” she said, holding his gaze. “I want to feel it inside me.” Jocelyn rolled on top of her, looming above. He rubbed the tip of his cock along her thighs and felt the sweep of thick curls against the sensitive head as he rubbed it over her pelvis before pressing the tip to her pussy. She was so hot and wet that he slid in easily. He moved slowly, carefully, not wanting to hurt her, though it was so very hard
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not to ram into her fresh young body. Once completely embedded inside her, he paused, his pulse racing and breath coming in soft pants. Never in his life had he experienced such desire. It was like being enfolded in the warmest, wettest, most perfect place, surrounded by affection and keen pleasure. Opening his eyes, he gazed at Charlie. Her euphoric expression fueled his desire and he began thrusting with long, slow strokes. His head arched back, baring his throat to her searching hands. Her fingers brushed his neck and jaw. She smoothed random strands of pale hair from his temples. Her legs wrapped around his, her heels pushing against his calves as passion grew. She pushed her hips upward, matching his rhythm. “Charlie, my beautiful, Charlie,” he panted, feeling her pussy clamp and pulse. Thrusting quickly, he brought her to another shattering orgasm. Jocelyn’s breath came in sobbing pants as he lowered his head to her throbbing throat, his mouth falling open against her artery. The desire to bite her was so powerful that tears stung his eyes. In such a completely vampiric state, his rigid cock was exceedingly sensitive to the merciless clenching of her pussy, yet without piercing her skin and tasting her blood, he was unable to climax. In the midst of her waning pleasure, she forced her eyes open and met his intense, reddish ones. His need was apparent in tense muscles and raw breaths. “Take it,” she panted, her heartbeat quickening again at the thought of him drinking her blood. Her head fell back, leaving her throat completely exposed. So great was Jocelyn’s desire that he didn’t hesitate a moment. He dropped his face to her neck, licking her salty skin before his tiny, sharp incisors pierced her as deeply as his cock pierced her pussy. At the first taste of her blood, he came harder than he ever had in his life. Groaning, he fell upon her, lapping her blood, his cock pulsing and ripples of pleasure running down his spine. As he drank from her, she climaxed again. The pleasure of his bite was so intense that she momentarily lost consciousness. Gasping, Jocelyn tore his mouth from her throat, fearful of accidentally taking too much. Resting his head in the hollow of her shoulder, he slowly gained control over his breathing and heartbeat. They rested quietly for a few moments, her arms wrapped limply round him, her palms tracing circles on his back. Jocelyn raised himself onto his elbow and stroked the tangled mass of hair from her face. “You are so beautiful,” he said in the soft, tender tone she loved but which he so rarely used. “So are you. That was intense.” “Yes. I’ve never done that with a mortal who knew I was biting them. Usually I must induce a fantasy so they won’t realize.” “How did it feel not to have to bother doing that?”
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“It was unlike anything I’ve ever known.” He rolled onto his back and pulled her into his arms, pressing her cheek against the warmth of his chest. “It was completely self-indulgent.” “You sound like you’re reprimanding yourself. Why?” “I don’t know.” She lifted her head to gaze at him and saw confusion in his eyes she couldn’t fathom. They had just shared a mutually fulfilling experience and should feel carefree and content. Of course she shouldn’t have expected such simplicity from Jocelyn. “Shall we go upstairs?” he asked. She nodded, taking his hand as they stood and walked to his bedroom.
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Chapter Eleven Charlie had only seen Jocelyn’s bedroom a few brief times. As they stretched out beneath the warmth of the black comforter on his bed, she studied every part of the room. It was large and separated into two sections by an archway of dark wooden panels. The bed stood against one wall, twin oak night tables on either side of it. Across from the bed was the wardrobe and dresser with a mirror framed in carved wood, similar to the one in her room. As she gazed through the archway to the other half of the room, she saw a fireplace faced by two black easy chairs, a thick black and red oriental carpet between them. The painting of Sybil rested on the mantel above the fireplace between an antique vase and a wooden incense burner. Though the archway concealed part of the walls on either side of the fireplace, Charlie saw bookshelves to the right lined with rows of books. His collection amazed her, considering the study was also filled with books. “You must love to read,” she commented, cuddling closer to his shoulder, her fingers drawing circles on his chest. “I do. I love history and seeing how others, especially those who weren’t there, write about it.” “Is most of it accurate?” He shrugged. “I suppose, but there are so many points of view. For example, a British book about the American Revolution would be considerably different from an American book about the same subject.” “I never thought about it like that. It must be particularly interesting for you, considering you’ve lived through so much history. Did it interest you when you were mortal?” “Always.” She raised herself slightly to study his face. He looked so uncharacteristically relaxed with his eyes halfclosed and lips parted. Tracing his chiseled cheekbones and jaw with her fingertip, she noted the sensitive cast to his profile. Sometimes he reminded her of a sculpture of Apollo. What had made this man who loved books and history, who could be infinitely gentle, and who detested fighting, into a heartless avenger? “How did you get involved?” she asked. “How did you end up chasing Edrik? Why did you let Gamel turn you into a vampire?” “Charlie, do you have any idea what you do to me?” He cupped her chin in his hand and brushed his lips across her forehead. “You make me want to tell you everything. Things I’ve never spoken of to anyone.”
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“You have to tell someone,” she said. “If you keep it inside, you’ll lose yourself. You’ll live forever with the same fears, sorrow, and guilt. No one should have to live like that.” “Why do you care when nobody else has?” “Everybody is afraid of you because you have power. They think you’re not like a person.” “I suppose people have felt that way about me long before I became a vampire. It’s the way I always had to be. If I allowed emotions to control me, I would have been swallowed up.” “By whom?” She rested her chin on his chest and looked into his eyes, but he turned his face aside and took a long time to speak. Should he answer her question with the utter, degrading truth or keep it buried as he had for so many centuries? “When I was five years old, I accompanied my father on what was to be a trip to France to meet his relatives and possibly reside with them briefly. Children were often raised away from parents in that time, something I learned to disagree with completely. I think children and families are too important to discard in any way.” “That’s true.” She stroked his cheek, wishing he’d look at her when he spoke but sensing part of him still wasn’t committed to revealing his past to her. Before he veered from the subject, she said, “Please go on.” “We were attacked on the road. My father and our servants were killed. Our attackers took me and two young maids with them on a ship. We were left below for most of the journey, tied up in a filthy compartment and scarcely given enough water and rancid food to survive. Our captors were slave traders. We learned very quickly the kind of slaves we were to be because some of the traders had no qualms about sampling the goods.” Charlie stared at him in stunned silence, feeling sick at the brutal world he’d been exposed to as a child. “I ended up in Istanbul and was bought by a wealthy relative of the Turkish Sultan. I suppose I should have considered myself lucky, since many male slaves were immediately castrated, however I was wanted for another purpose. My master was fascinated with pale foreigners like me. He owned several female slaves with my coloring and wanted to use us to breed more.” “God, Jocelyn,” she murmured, unsure if she felt more anger than sorrow. His voice was steady and calm, as if he was telling the story about someone else. It happened so long ago that she hoped by now it felt that way to him, but she doubted it. If she had endured what he had, she could never forget the emotions attached. “Repulsive, isn’t it?” “I hope the ones who did it to you died painful deaths. They should have had their balls cut off.”
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“The odd thing was, I was so young when it happened that I adapted. It became a normal way of life for me. I was a tool. A sexual tool. I was taught how to please both men and women, but to place my own desires aside. I never felt anything for those people I slept with. Most of the time I derived no pleasure at all. Often when I was expected to perform for the sake of conception, I couldn’t do it without aphrodisiacs.” He sounded thoughtful and wondering even after so many years. “I know the women must have felt the same way, but we had almost forgotten what our lives were like before our capture. The children we created for the perverted, controlling desires of others were sold off. I never knew any of them. I never even knew which woman conceived or not, but I thought about them all the time. Every now and then I’d remember my true family and realize how perverted my life and world had become, but I couldn’t think about that for long. No matter what, it was my world. “I lived there until I was twenty. Then Gamel came for me. He had befriended my mother while traveling in England and apparently she had never forgotten me. Out of affection for her, Gamel searched and found me. He offered to purchase me, but my master refused. He died the next day of what appeared to be natural causes, but later I learned otherwise. Gamel had poisoned him. He took me back to my mother. I was an adult, but had never been out of slavery. On the trip, Gamel taught me what I would need to know about the home I was returning to. My family was wealthy. I was to be a Lord. I laughed so hard at the irony I thought I’d die of it. During those months of travel, Gamel also exposed me to his faith, the Coven which I chose to join and have followed ever since. He also told me he was a vampire, part of an old lineage. Others of his kind existed, some made, some born. I was fascinated but had no desire to become one. He mentioned Edrik and told me that was why he came to England in the first place, because he was tracking the monster he’d created. Gamel had wanted companionship and a partner in his faith, but Edrik had only wanted power. “Once I was home, my mother was thrilled to see me. I wasn’t sure how to handle that kind of true affection and I’m sorry to say that at first I was colder to her than I should have been. I had lived without feeling for so long that I scarcely remembered how normal people acted. To feel was to hurt.” Charlie lay her head against his chest and took his hand. “No one wants to hurt.” “No. My mother and I spent a lot of time getting to know each other, or rather I got to know her. I was still remote. The only one who truly knew me was Gamel, mostly because he could read my mind. I both hated and loved that he could sense what I felt. Like you can.” “I can?” She sounded surprised. She thought she knew him, but with Jocelyn it was often difficult to tell. “Yes. Anyway, once I knew about Gamel’s plight to find Edrik, I set out to help him. I had to. He saved me from slavery and was the closest friend I had. Though I had never touched a weapon before, I learned quickly and was accustomed to enduring abuse. In spite of my hatred of violence, I was a decent warrior. To chase Edrik, I had no choice. He left a trail of destruction and gathered a following, promising them wealth 125
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and power in exchange for their allegiance. For seventeen years we chased him. By the end of those years, I had lost everyone dear to me. My mother died while Gamel and I fought Edrik in Asia. It was only when she died that I realized how much I had grown to love her, but like everything in my life, it was too late. Five years later, Gamel died in South America while finally imprisoning Edrik. It was then I allowed him to make me a vampire with the final drops of his blood.” He remained silent for a few moments after his story ended. “No wonder why you said it was self-indulgent for you to enjoy making love with me. Even after all these years, you won’t let yourself feel anything.” “I can’t believe you just wanted to sleep with me. You must have a reason. Everyone always does.” “The reason is I like you.” She kissed his cheek. “That’s all. You’re not full of shit like Mark and almost every other guy I know. You tell it like it is, and you do what’s right even when it’s hard.” “You’ve just described yourself.” He smiled, tightening his arms around her, his thumbs caressing the corners of her mouth. “Jocelyn, who was Sybil?” “I don’t want to talk about her, Charlie. Not now.” “She’s the one who died in the fire, wasn’t she?” “Charlie, I won’t discuss it.” “All right,” she murmured, her fingers brushing his throat and chest. She knew how much he loved the child in the picture and could only guess she had grown into a beautiful woman whom he loved and lost. Maybe one day he’d talk about her. Only then would Charlie believe they truly belonged together. As they lay quietly in each other’s arms, the night grew colder. Jocelyn left the bed to build a fire. When he returned, Charlie curled up in his arms and fell asleep. He stroked her bare shoulder, thinking about how much he’d told her of his past. He’d vowed not to drag her into his distorted world any more than necessary, but he’d failed miserably. Again. Still holding her, his eyes slipped shut. He drifted into a light, uneasy sleep in which he battled against nightmares of groping hands and harsh lessons that raped him, body and soul.
***** “Everything here is of my command. Understand that and life will be pleasant for you.” A dark, jeweled hand caressed locks of blond hair from the child’s face with deliberately misguiding tenderness. The child’s eyes were dark in his pale face, but even as the strange hand
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tightened fiercely on his slender throat, he remained still and silent. Slave traders had already begun the cruel process of breaking the boy’s spirit. “Now all you need is to be taught proper manners,” the owner of the hand sounded detached. To him the child was a slave, an animal to be trained and used to serve.”Such lovely yellow hair. Such plans for you, little one. Are you afraid?” The boy was too numb to answer. On the ship, any sound, shriek, or cry brought forth more pain. Better to keep silent. Silent as a corpse. “Good.” Brown eyes set deep in loose folds of flesh glistened with malice, making the child shiver in spite of the horrifying weeks he’d already endured at the hands of the traders. His new master’s thin lips drew back in a reptilian smile over chipped gray teeth as he loomed closer so all the boy saw was the crimson silk of an embroidered robe. All he smelled was the sour breath that forced him to hold his own lest he gag aloud…
***** Jocelyn jumped awake, his heart pounding as if he’d run for miles, his teeth bared as he hissed at torturous overseers who had died centuries ago. “Jocelyn?” Charlie blinked sleepy eyes in his direction but snapped awake upon seeing her gentle lover replaced by a raging demon with shining eyes and razor-sharp teeth. In spite of her fear of the vampire, she grasped his wrists and stroked damp tendrils of hair from his face. “Charlie.” His eyes lost their unnatural shine as he sat back on his knees and pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry I woke you.” “It’s all right,” she soothed, massaging the tense muscles of his shoulders and back until his body relaxed against her. “It was just a dream. Go back to sleep.” He settled beside her, not breaking contact with her even as the fire died and the sun rose behind the drawn black curtains. The following evening Charlie awoke alone. Rolling onto her side, she touched the sheets where Jocelyn had slept beside her. She was hopelessly in love with him. She loved the sound of his voice, the touch of his hand, and the feeling of his body deep inside hers. Instinctively she knew he felt the same about her, but she doubted he’d admit it. At least not yet. He had been alone for too long, even before being made a vampire. Last night when they’d made love, he attempted to restrain his emotions to the point of feeling guilt for experiencing sexual gratification. Somehow she’d convince him to open up to her about his past, though not completely. Sybil remained the only barrier between them. His avoidance of the subject only made her more curious than ever about the little girl in the picture. If she was the one he’d loved who had died in the fire, why did Charlie envision her as a child when she’d painted the picture and why had her spirit in the vision been that of a child?
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Each night before falling asleep, Charlie hoped Sybil would contact her again, as Charlie was certain she was trying to convey an important message. Charlie had just set up her easel in the parlor when Jocelyn arrived from his nightly run. He strode into the house, lifting his damp sweatshirt over his head and running a hand through his hair. “Sorry I’m late. I got lost in thought and went further than usual.” “No problem.” She smiled, placing her pallet aside and wrapping her arms around his neck. “We can meditate then have dinner. I’ve already arranged the candles and incense upstairs.” “I’m taking a shower first.” He ran his palms along her back. “Jocelyn?” She stroked his lean, sweat-slicked chest. “Will you let me paint you?” “I believe you’ve done that already.” He narrowed his eyes playfully as he recalled the sketches she’d made after spying on him in the woods. “You know what I mean.” She tugged gently at his hair. “Will you pose for me tonight?” “When you look at me like that, I think I’d do anything you ask.” “Somehow I doubt that.” She smiled, covering his mouth with hers and licking his lips before he left her to shower upstairs. After collecting her supplies, she carried them to his bedroom. Inside the adjoining bath, water ran in the shower. The thought of him, wet and naked, made her legs weak. Before she could change her mind, she slipped off her clothes and unwound her hair from its braid. Glancing at herself in the mirror, she walked to the bathroom door and paused, her hand trembling on the knob, her heart pulsing with anticipation. She hoped he wouldn’t be offended by her intrusion. Opening the door, she stepped into the steamy room. The white curtain was drawn across the spacious shower, the shadow of his body outlined against it as he rinsed his hair. She slipped behind the curtain, drawing a sharp breath from the initial heat of the water. She nearly screamed in surprise as his hand locked around her wrists and pinned them to the tile above her head. His gaze fixed on hers. “I heard your heartbeat,” he murmured, running his tongue over her earlobe. In spite of the hot water, she shivered and giggled. “I thought I’d surprise you. Silly me.” He growled deep in his throat and slid his hands down her arms, cupping her breasts and running his thumbs over her nipples. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” “You make me feel beautiful.” She closed her eyes and leaned against the wall, completely under his sensual spell.
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“Every time I see you I want you,” he said. “It’s been like that since the first night we met.” “Even though I cut you with my key?” “Your spirit stirred me.” “I felt the same way about you,” she murmured as his lips roamed over her neck and shoulders. They felt so soft and the rest of his body so hard. His muscles rippled beneath water-slicked skin as he sank lower and took one of her nipples in his mouth. Clutching his head closer, she moaned while his tongue flicked over her nipple, teasing it, the tip circled her areola. His touch became almost unbearable, so great was the pleasure. When she felt ready to scream from need, he moved to her other nipple and began the sensual torture again. Charlie panted, her pulse racing and her skin hotter than the water pouring over them. “Oh, Jocelyn, please! Get inside me! Please!” Standing, he pressed her to the slick tiles as his steely cock slipped into her drenched pussy. Jocelyn closed his eyes, resisting the urge to groan. It was like sliding his cock into a hot, wet paradise. She was so tight but so willing, so full of passion that she carried him along with her. Pinning her to the wall, he nuzzled her neck as his hips drove into her. She came, her body clinging to his. Guttural moans erupted from deep inside her, the sensual sounds inciting his desire even more. As her climax ebbed, he braced his hands against the tile, his fingers gripping tightly as he fought to control the drives of his body. He drew deep breaths, his heart pounding. His cock felt ready to burst with need. A shiver rippled down his spine, but he gained control of himself and slipped out of her. Her eyes opened and she smiled up at him. “I was worried about bothering you if I came in here.” “You’ve annoyed me to distraction,” he teased, kissing the tip of her nose. “I’m afraid I’ll have to take you in the bedroom so I can really punish you for the intrusion.” Again desire tightened her belly. As she stepped out of the shower, she handed him a towel before wrapping one about her waist and walking to the bedroom. When they reached the bed, he tugged the towel from her and threw her down, rough and gentle at the same time. His tongue ran from her navel to her neck before he reached across the bed and opened the drawer of the nightstand. Removing a bandana of black silk, he sat back on his knees and folded it. “What are you doing?” “Sit up.” “Why?” she asked, obeying him. He placed the silk over her eyes and tied it in back of her head. “Are you getting kinky on me, Jocelyn?” 129
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“Depends on what your idea of kinky is. Lie down and I’ll be back in a few moments.” Charlie did as he asked, though he felt her apprehension. “I suppose if you planned on killing me you could have done it long before this,” she said. “Charlie,” he murmured against her lips. She felt the warmth of his body hovering over hers. “I would never harm you. If you didn’t believe that, you wouldn’t be here with me now.” He was right, of course. Still, that didn’t mean she had no fear of him. He left the bed, moving so quietly that she had no idea if he remained in the room or not. Sighing, she relaxed in spite of her anticipation of what was to come. Cupping her breasts, she felt their warm weight before stroking her nipples and rotating them between her thumb and forefinger. Her fingertips stroked her abdomen and wove through the wiry curls between her legs. Using two fingers, she parted her moist folds of flesh and explored her pussy. Jocelyn found her that way when he stepped into the room, carrying a tray laden with the tools of a trade he’d perfected long ago. The sight of Charlie, naked, the blindfold over her eyes, her lips parted as she played with herself, stirred his cock. He stood for several moments, watching her, listening to her heartbeat and inhaling the fragrance of her lust. Her fingers parted the dewy folds of flesh, exposing her plump clit and revealing the dark pink pussy he longed to plunge into until he exploded with passion. Unable to resist, he placed the tray on the dresser and curled his hand around his cock, stroking himself as he watched her fingers dance and dip between her legs. His chest heaving, he squeezed the base of his cock. No one had ever aroused him as much as this woman. She was everything he’d ever dreamed of. Knowing he couldn’t keep her twisted his heart. Even worse was the thought that their eventual parting would hurt her, something he promised he’d never do. She’d believed him, and he’d lied. He couldn’t think of that now. Tonight was for them. For her really. His punishment would be unfulfilled desire. “Charlie.” Her hand stopped its stroking and she removed it from between her thighs. “Jocelyn.” “Do you have any idea how gorgeous you look right now? I could have watched you arousing yourself all night.” She laughed. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t have lasted all night just from thinking of you. Even the sound of your voice makes me wet. All I have to do is think of you and I want to feel you inside me.”
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The bed sank as he sat beside her. “I want you to continue trusting me. Tonight is yours, Charlie. I am here to please you.” “But I want to please you, too.” “You will. Your fulfillment will be mine. Now be still.” Drawing a deep breath of anticipation she did as he asked, her arms resting at her sides. His fingertips brushed hair from her forehead and stroked her lips. He broke contact momentarily then she felt something wet and sweet on her lips. She licked, her tongue flicking his fingers along with the chunk of pineapple he held between them. “Umm,” she purred, taking the cool fruit between her teeth and chewing. The next piece he held between his lips. Her teeth and tongue accepted the pineapple from him, the intimacy of the gesture warming her inside. Drawing a sharp breath, she felt her nipples turned to pebbles of desire and gooseflesh rise on her body as he trailed an ice cube down the center of her breasts to her navel. His tongue followed the trail, warming where the ice had chilled her. He circled one nipple with the ice then took the taut peak into his mouth and laved it with his tongue. Charlie trembled, her pulse racing from sensation and desire. She grasped handfuls of his silky hair, loving how it slid, so smooth and soft, between her fingertips. Jocelyn’s tongue trailed from the nipple he’d been loving, to the other. She felt the sharpness of one of his fangs scrape it, though not hard enough to draw blood. It thrilled her knowing this powerful, beautiful vampire could touch her with such tenderness. He could destroy her if he wanted, or take her with savage brutality. Instead he adored her. “No, don’t stop!” she moaned when his mouth left her nipple. “Patience, beautiful girl,” he whispered. She waited, quivering with anticipation. A warm, thick liquid oozed over her breasts and belly. “What is it?” she asked. “Taste.” He took her hand and guided it to her breast, running her fingertip across her nipple then holding the finger to her lips. Her tongue flicked out, tasting honey. Jocelyn licked the honey from her breasts, his soft, wet tongue roaming over her in languid strokes that might have been soothing had she not wanted him so badly. He lapped her belly, dipping his tongue into her navel before kissing her inner thighs. Charlie tensed when his breath fanned her clit. His tongue ran along it in the briefest, most teasing touch before he said, “Roll onto your stomach.” She turned, her cheek cushioned against the pillow, waiting for what he had planned. Suddenly the fresh scent of oranges filled the room. Charlie flinched slightly as she felt the cold wetness of the sliced fruit as he ran it over her lower back. He brushed
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aside her hair and massaged her shoulders and spine with the orange. He licked every inch of her back then kissed her buttocks. A shiver rippled down her spine when his finger slipped gently between her bottom cheeks and touched the sphincter. The sensitive flesh pulsed against his fingertip. He turned her onto her back and spread her legs. Stretching out on the bed, he lifted one of her legs over him and slid his arms alongside her. He stroked her ribs as he licked her clit and rimmed her pussy with the tip of his tongue before thrusting it inside her. The tender attack on her most sensitive parts hurled her into orgasm. Charlie’s head thrashed on the pillow as she moaned and cried while Jocelyn held her fast, his tongue never stopping its sensual motions. Finally she lay panting and spent, her eyes closed beneath the blindfold. He moved beside her, drawing her into his arms. His cock, warm and erect, poked against her. She removed the blindfold and gazed at his rod as she took it in her hand, the skin velvet soft and patterned with veins. The tip glistened with a droplet of moisture, indicating the extent of his arousal. He drew a long breath and held it as she inched lower on the bed and pushed him onto his back. “I love this,” she murmured, taking his cock in both of her hands and feeling every aching inch of it. “Charlie don’t,” he panted as she bent over his erection, her hair sweeping his muscle-ridged abdomen, her breath hot and moist on his cockhead. “There’s no way you can say that to me, pal,” she teased. She was right, after all. His thoughts blurred when she took his cock between her lips and ran her tongue over the head, flicking over the eye. Jocelyn’s fingers gripped the sheets until his hands ached as much as his cock. He’d never felt so ready in his life. The need for release was almost painful, but without the taste of blood, he doubted he’d achieve it. Cupping his balls, she kneaded them as she lapped his entire staff then sucked the tip, running her lips over the bulging head. “That’s enough, Charlie!” He pushed her away and sat on the edge of the bed, panting, resisting the urge to bite his own lips or better yet take her blood to end the sexual torture ravaging every tense muscle in his body. “Jocelyn.” She slipped her arms around him, feeling his tension. His neck throbbed beneath her lips as she kissed it. “I just want to hold you,” he said. “That’s all.” “Why? You can’t keep denying yourself what you want. It’s stupid, Jocelyn! Why are you punishing yourself? What for?” “Charlie, please.” He turned to her, his eyes gleaming. The battle of emotions in his expression was enough to calm her frustration. “It’s all right.” She embraced him. “Lie on your stomach.” 132
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Glancing warily at her, he obeyed. Her palms ran, smooth and warm, over his back and shoulders. Her fingers languidly massaged his neck and sifted through his hair. He relaxed beneath her touch, doing his best to ignore the throbbing erection. Finally her massage soothed him so much that for the first time in centuries he forgot everything, even Edrik. All that existed was Charlie and her soft, bewitching caresses. In those incoherent moments between wakefulness and sleep, he thought how much he loved her.
***** Jocelyn awoke an hour later, the gentle weight of Charlie’s head on his back. She slept using him as a pillow, her arm draped over his waist. Careful not to wake her, he slid from her and pulled the sheet over her shoulders. He brushed his lips across her cheek, wondering if she would choose to sleep beside him and share his bed if she knew the violence he was capable of and the perverse gratification he received from it. Yes, she offered him her blood, the sweetest blood he’d ever known, but could she still care for him if she knew the part of him that was as wicked as Edrik? He wanted to believe that if she rejected him, he wouldn’t care. He wanted to believe he wasn’t in love with her. Even as he sat beside her on the bed he felt his reason battling with his emotions. He had learned long ago that caring for people got you nothing but pain. Since he was a child, he’d trained himself not to feel. It was the only way he could survive. Becoming a vampire had only served to distance him more from mortal feelings, but with Charlie he experienced emotions he hadn’t known since he was a young child, secure and cared for, before his enslavement. “It’s shit,” he muttered, pulling on his pants and leaving the bedroom. “Security equals shit. It’s not real and never will be.” Outside the moon shone through the trees as Jocelyn walked the root-knotted paths in the woods behind the house. Soon his time with Charlie would end, as she now knew all the rituals by heart. True, she needed more finesse, but that wasn’t something he could teach her. She would need to perfect that on her own through practice and spiritual journeys. The time was close for him to finally collect retribution from Edrik. No matter what he and Charlie felt for each other, his long life had been granted for the sole purpose of containing and killing the demon. The sooner he left Charlie with the safety of the Coven, the better off she’d be. He would destroy Edrik and she would carry on the traditions and lessons taught by Gamel. Maybe she would miss him for a time, but she’d get over it. She was young and her feelings for him would change regardless of whether he left or not. When he reached his favorite clearing, he undressed to swim in the river, but suddenly stopped, summoned by a voice he hadn’t heard in years. Tugging his shirt
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back on, not even bothering to button it, he ran back to the house, jumped in the car, and drove to the payphone outside the town’s general store.
***** When Jocelyn returned home, Charlie awaited him in the parlor, a fresh canvas on her easel. He weakened momentarily upon seeing her but quickly repressed his feelings. “I’m sorry, Charlie, but we can’t do the painting tonight. We have a long drive back to Boston.” “Why are we going to Boston?” “I’m taking you to your mother then I’m meeting your father in Spain.” “Something’s wrong.” Charlie paled. “What’s happened to my father?” “Nothing. He’s fine. He contacted me tonight.” “Telepathically?” She looked a bit skeptical. She hadn’t realized her father’s skills were so strong, but Jocelyn was certainly powerful enough to receive such a distant message. “Yes. Hurry and pack. Our plane leaves tomorrow morning.” “Why do you have to go to Spain?” she asked, gathering her supplies. “It seems the Coven members who were supposed to keep the staff safe let it fall out of the Coven’s possession,” Jocelyn said calmly but his eyes shone with fury. “I must get it back. Immediately.” “Where is it?” “With people who don’t deserve it.” Though she tried to learn more, he had fallen into thoughtful silence that lasted for the night. As she sat beside him in the car, she felt him distancing himself from her, severing the fragile threads that drew them together. Several times she felt near tears but refused to show any weakness in the face of his cold resolution. He had made it clear from the beginning that his only purpose was to catch Edrik. Though she knew the importance of his task, she couldn’t help feeling as if she was losing him to a wickedness which should never have been part of his soul. The next day was a dizzy blur during which Charlie struggled to find the right words to tell Jocelyn how she felt about him, yet was unable to do so for fear that he would reject her completely. He’d recoiled into a rigid state similar to how he’d been when they’d first met. So Charlie remained as silent as he, speaking only when necessary. Even as they sat side-by-side on the plane, he didn’t so much as allow his shoulder to brush hers. He kept his eyes fixed ahead while she sketched in her book.
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The following afternoon, they arrived at the house she’d grown up in. Cassie waited at the door to welcome her daughter with an embrace and inform Jocelyn that her husband would meet him at the airport in Spain. “You’ll be back, right?” Charlie asked Jocelyn from where she stood beside her mother. “I’m not sure, but don’t worry. You know the rituals well enough.” “I’m not talking about the rituals,” she snapped, unable to repress her anger and hurt any longer. He was leaving her. She grieved the loss of their relationship while he stood there like an android. Cassie’s gaze swept from Charlie to Jocelyn. Obviously Charlie hadn’t heeded her advice but had waltzed carelessly into a relationship with a loveless monster who could only cause her pain. “I must go,” Jocelyn said. “Remember all we’ve worked on. Keep yourselves safe. If at all possible, I’ll return as soon as I’ve gotten the staff.” Nodding to them, he turned away. “Jocelyn!” Charlie ran a few steps to catch up with him. He stopped but didn’t look at her. Ignoring his indifference, she flung her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. “Please be careful.” He held her so tightly that for a moment she couldn’t breathe, but she didn’t care. She wished they could remain there forever, protected by their affection, but that was a fantasy. Jocelyn released her abruptly, stepped into the car, and drove off without looking back.
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Chapter Twelve “Do you want to talk about it?” Charlie glanced at her mother across the table where they sat drinking tea. Jocelyn had only been gone for a few moments, but Charlie already missed him. She wondered if he felt the same, though she doubted it. All he could think of was Edrik and the damned weapon needed to destroy him. “You wouldn’t understand,” Charlie said. Cassie studied her daughter. “I know you care for him very much. I think he somehow cares for you, too.” “So you admit he might have some humanity left?” Charlie snapped. “I’m on your side.” Charlie glanced at her teacup. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you. You’re the one who warned me, remember?” Cassie took her daughter’s hand. “Sometimes our emotions just won’t listen to reason.” “I’m in love with him.” Charlie tried to keep tears from her eyes. “I don’t know what to do. Even though you don’t believe it, he feels so much, but he’s afraid of his emotions, so he pretends to have none at all.” “Charlie, none of us can solve another person’s problems for him unless he wants to. All Jocelyn wants is to find Edrik. It’s what he must do. Why do you think he was created?” “Why were any of us created, Mother? Supposedly we all have a purpose, but does that mean we can’t love each other in the meantime?” “I’ve already told you that caring about him will get you hurt. It already has. What’s going to happen if his life ends with Edrik’s?” “Then I’ll handle it like everyone has to handle death.” Cassie smiled sadly. “I know you will. I just wish I could protect you from it.” “I guess we all feel that way about the people we love.” Sighing, Cassie slumped back and picked up her tea. “Then all we can do is wait and hope everything will work out how you want it to.” Charlie gazed at the amethyst ring shimmering on her hand. She wanted Jocelyn to avoid the confrontation with Edrik. Their battle was, unfortunately, as inevitable as the love between Charlie and the vampire. When they’d finished their tea, Charlie and Cassie watched soaps in the living room, hoping to keep their thoughts from Jocelyn and Charlie’s father in Spain. Since 136
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she hadn’t slept for nearly two days and her life was far more outrageous than any soap opera, Charlie soon fell asleep on the couch. She dreamed of sitting in the field she and Jocelyn visited so many times during their visualizations. Closing her eyes, she inhaled the scent of sun-warmed grass and felt the caress of the wind on her cheek. Suddenly she felt a presence. One of the constantly circling spirits had moved beside her. In the dream she opened her eyes and saw Sybil seated nearby. “Sybil, where have you been?” “I have to tell you,” said the delicate spirit/child voice. “Tell me what?” “You have to find him. You have to go to him and tell him he’s not alone.” “Jocelyn?” Sybil nodded. “You have to be more than an apprentice, or else he’ll never know.” “Know what?” “That what happened to me wasn’t his fault and I’m glad to have been his daughter.” “His daughter?” Charlie was stunned. Jocelyn had never mentioned having a child that he knew of, only the ones that resulted from his captivity. “Find him, Charlie. He hasn’t listened to me.” “I will. Right away. Sybil, wait!” Charlie reached for the spirit, but she faded in the passing breeze.
***** Charlie snapped awake. “Mom, I have to go!” Cassie dropped her bowl of popcorn and stared at her daughter. “Go where?” “To Spain. I need to find Jocelyn.” “No way.” Cassie stood, grasping Charlie’s shoulders. “Mom, I have to. He needs me. I have to tell him something.” “Then phone your father and…Charlie!” Cassie shouted as Charlie grabbed her still-packed suitcase from the hall and took the keys to the car from the peg by the door. “You’re not going anywhere! This is ridiculous!” “I know it sounds that way, but I’ll explain later.” “You’ll explain in the car. I’m going with you. Just let me pack a few things.” Charlie dropped her suitcase and embraced her mother. “Thank you. I knew I could count on you.”
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“I have a bad feeling about this, Charlie, but once you’ve made up your mind, no one’s going to change it.”
***** It was morning when Jocelyn arrived in Spain. Charlie’s father, a slim man of average height, awaited him at the airport, his face concerned as Jocelyn approached. Though dark glasses hid the vampire’s eyes, fury emanated from his entire being. The stark black suit he wore emphasized his tile-white complexion, pale hair, and whipcord body. Startling and attractive at the same time, the vampire drew stares from most passers-by, though he seemed unaware of the bizarre admiration. “Robert.” Jocelyn nodded to Charlie’s father as he kept walking without slowing his pace. Robert hurried to fall into step alongside the taller man. “How’s Charlie?” “Fine. She’s with her mother. I am not happy about this situation.” “We didn’t think you would be,” Robert admitted. “None of us are. It was a serious mistake.” “How did the Coven lose possession of the staff?” Jocelyn demanded, picking up his suitcase and following Robert to the rented car outside. “You know that it has been in the care of Ricco’s family for years. They’ve kept it mounted on the wall at their martial arts school. It’s something they were very proud of.” “Spare me the hearts and flowers, Robert. I want facts.” Robert swallowed audibly, stroking his silver moustache and watching Jocelyn from the corner of his eye. Jocelyn felt him probing his mind with his telepathic gift but easily blocked him out and glared at him to continue. “Ricco’s business had been very bad this year. He almost lost the school and his apartment. He never let any of us know how desperate he was. Honestly, no one ever considered that Edrik might actually escape. You and he are like legends to us.” “Robert, what happened to the staff?” “It’s old and worth money. Ricco was at his wit’s end. When a collector of antique weapons made him an offer for it—” “He sold the staff? To whom?” “We…We’re not sure.” “So you mean it’s floating around Spain somewhere? Edrik himself might even have it?” Jocelyn laughed hard enough to show his gleaming white fangs. Robert shuddered. Jocelyn had always been intimidating, but at times one could almost forget he was inhuman, until a glimpse was caught of those damned teeth.
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Jocelyn stopped laughing as suddenly as he’d started and said in a deadly voice, “Where is Ricco now?” Robert had never seen Jocelyn angry enough to lose his temper, but in spite of his fear of the vampire, he defended Ricco. “Do you think you could show a little compassion? I suppose you have no idea what it means to be desperate, but it happens to us mortals all the time.” “Don’t be concerned. I have no intention of harming him, even though he disgraced the Coven.” Jocelyn was surprised to find he couldn’t hold onto his anger when he looked at Robert. Charlie had his eyes. “Do you have any idea how important the staff is? Gamel made it with his own hands for the purpose of destroying Edrik. He formed it from a substance given to him by his creator, one of the first of our kind. He created a spell to be used with it.” “Just like he created you.” Jocelyn replaced his glasses and continued walking. “Yes, just like that. I have to get a description of the buyer from Ricco.” “Don’t you want to get some sleep first? I know you’re not exactly a morning person.” “No. I don’t have time to waste. I need that staff now.”
***** Ricco and his family lived in the apartment above his marital arts school in Madrid. As they walked up the creaky back steps to the apartment, Jocelyn could scarcely repress his anger regarding the loss of the staff. He tried understanding Ricco’s carelessness by telling himself the man had a family to think about. Even though the Coven had known about him and Edrik for centuries, both vampires had faded to little more than myths. Mortal lives were so short, and so many had lived and died between the time Edrik had been imprisoned and now. To Jocelyn, it seemed like yesterday Edrik had preyed upon the world, but to these mortals, it was like a nightmare come true. In spite of their training, they honestly hadn’t expected to confront the demon. He and Robert stopped at the door at the top of the steps and knocked twice. A dark-skinned, brown-eyed woman in her thirties opened the door and stared at them. She held a toddler in one arm and a girl of about four peeked from behind her dress. “Maria, we’re here to see your husband,” Robert said. “He’s in the living room with the boys. He didn’t mean for it to happen this way. He would have gotten the staff back.” “Maria, I don’t need you to make excuses for me.” Ricco stood under the arch separating the kitchen from the living room. He was about Robert’s height but had a muscular frame accentuated by a blue tank top tucked into faded jeans. The knuckles of
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his hands were large from years of breaking cinder blocks and wood. His nose was slightly bent in the middle, indicating an old injury. In spite of his rough outward appearance, his eyes were honest. Jocelyn sensed his shame about what he’d done, though he detected no regret. “You did what you had to!” Maria’s frantic gaze darted from Ricco to Jocelyn. “For your family.” “I did, but the Coven is our family as well. I know what I did was wrong, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make it right again.” “To whom did you sell the staff?” Jocelyn asked. “That’s just it. I don’t know exactly. This guy used to hang around my school all the time. He wore business suits, only he didn’t look like the business type. He seemed more like a punk, like me. One day he made me a cash offer for the staff. I couldn’t say no to the money, not at that time. I thought I’d be able to buy the staff back eventually. About a month ago I asked him about it, but he said he didn’t have it, that he’d bought it for a man he worked for. After that, he stopped coming around.” “I’d like to place you under hypnosis,” Jocelyn said. “You might recall something important that will give us a lead on finding the buyer.” Ricco shrugged. “If you think it will help.” “We’ll need a quiet place where you can relax.” “Relax with you around?” Ricco laughed then his eyes widened upon realizing he’d spoken his thoughts aloud. “No offense.” “None taken. Shall we begin?” “Could this be dangerous?” Maria asked. “No,” Robert reassured her. “Jocelyn knows what he’s doing.” “At least he’s had enough years of practice.” Ricco snorted with nervous laughter. Jocelyn followed Ricco through the living room where two boys about six years of age looked up from the game they played and stared at Jocelyn. He smiled at them, but they turned away shyly. In the master bedroom, Jocelyn closed the door and instructed Ricco to either lie on the bed or sit in the chair by the tiny windowsill cluttered with plants. Ricco sat, his hands folded in his lap like a schoolboy, his right foot nervously tapping the floor. “Try to relax,” Jocelyn said, pulling the chair away from Maria’s vanity table and straddling it. He slipped off the Coven ring and held it up in front of Ricco so the large rise of the ruby caught the sunlight filtering in through the blinds. “I’m relaxed,” Ricco said. “I’m cool.” “Obviously.” Jocelyn’s voice dripped sarcasm. After a few moments, Ricco finally uncoiled and the process began. Soon he was recalling in vivid detail the day he had sold the staff to the man in the suit.
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“Well, I really can’t sell. It’s been it the family for years…How much? Just be careful with it. I shouldn’t be doing this.” “What’s happening now?” Jocelyn asked. “He’s reaching for his wallet and counting the pesetas.” “Can you see anything in his wallet? A license or any sort of identification?” “No. Nothing. Wait! There’s a business card.” “From where?” Jocelyn leaned forward, his eyes intent on Ricco’s closed ones. “It’s got a little purple dragon on it. It’s from the Purple Dragon Studios.” After a few more questions, Jocelyn brought Ricco back to the present. “Nothing, huh?” Ricco stood and stretched. “I didn’t think it would do any good.” “On the contrary, I think we’ve made some real progress,” Jocelyn said. “Really?” “Do you know where Purple Dragon Studio is located?” “Sure. It’s not all that far from here. It’s next to a place that specializes in antique swords and stuff. There’s an empty warehouse behind it. I always wondered how they made any business since there’s not much else in that part of town.” “I’ll leave right away.” Jocelyn opened the door. Robert and Maria nearly fell in. “Sorry.” Robert shrugged. “Just curious.” “Then you must have heard where we have to go—or rather where I have to go.” “Don’t you want company? That section of Madrid isn’t so good.” Ricco absently wiped his nose with his forearm. “And besides, I feel like I should do more about getting the staff back since this is my fault to begin with.” “I’m better off alone,” Jocelyn said, walking to the kitchen table where the fouryear-old sat coloring. Taking one of her crayons, he scribbled on a blank piece of paper and handed it to Ricco. “Should you ever find yourself in such a situation again, call me rather than selling off the family goods. I rarely say no and I never charge interest.” “Why are you doing this?” Ricco stared into the vampire’s solemn face. “I had a family once, too,” Jocelyn said. “And I haven’t completely forgotten what it was like.” “You’re not what I expected.” Maria glanced over her husband’s shoulder at Jocelyn’s bold writing. “For a monster?” He raised a groomed eyebrow. “I didn’t say that,” Maria protested. Nodding to Ricco and his wife, Jocelyn left the apartment, Robert close behind him. As they drove away, Robert glanced at Jocelyn from the corner of his eye, still not quite believing what he’d witnessed. A normal person he might have expected compassion from, but not the man/beast who had all the feeling of an ice cube, or so he’d thought. “What happened to all that attitude you got off the plane with?” Robert asked.
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“Ricco isn’t the most intelligent creature in the world. No matter how mad I might be about the situation, I don’t think he intended to cause harm.” “That’s what I tried to tell you.” “I know, however I had to see for myself.”
***** As Ricco had warned, The Purple Dragon Studio was located in a rough section of the city. Still, Jocelyn scarcely noticed as he stepped over drunks and dope heads while ignoring the advances of prostitutes. His only thought was of finding the staff Gamel had created to destroy a vampire. Pausing in front of the Purple Dragon Studio, he glanced in the window, observing the class in progress. The students and instructor seemed to have a skillful foundation of the Kempo style the school specialized in. Jocelyn wasn’t interested in the lesson, however. His concern was with the antique sword shop next door. He pushed open the shop’s grime-stained glass door, his gaze sweeping the array of swords, daggers, and assorted weapons displayed behind glass cases. He noted some were worth a great deal while others were shoddy replicas scarcely worth a glance. Beside the cash drawer stood a tall, sallow-skinned man with a long black ponytail. He looked up from his newspaper. “Help you?” “I’m looking for a special weapon.” Jocelyn approached the counter, staring into the man’s eyes. “Like?” “A staff.” Jocelyn ran his hand over the top of the counter, tracing the length of one of the silver swords beneath. “Purchased from a man named Ricco about a month ago.” “Ricco. Sure, I know him. The staff isn’t for sale. It’s not even here. The owner has it in his personal collection.” “I would like to speak with him.” The clerk snorted with laugher. “I don’t think so.” “Tell me his name and where I can find him.” “Fuck you.” An evil smile curved Jocelyn’s lips as he held the clerk’s gaze and repeated, “Tell me his name.” “Curcio Ferrer,” stated the clerk, his eyes glassy as the vampire probed his mind. “I think we’re going to get along fine.” Jocelyn settled himself on the countertop for the interrogation.
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***** Curcio Ferrer lounged by the picture window in his study, surrounded by his favorite antique weapons mounted on three of the walls. He gazed at his jewel-like blue eyes reflected in the polished silver of his newest piece, a medieval French dagger adorned with sapphires and rubies. Impeccably groomed, Curcio wore a suit of black and pale gray that matched the hint of silver at the temples of his black hair. Sharpness, clarity, and clean lines were things he appreciated in grooming as well as in weapons and fighters, which were his only interests besides power and money. Being the sort of man who always got what he wanted, he had spent his life making certain he possessed all five of his greatest desires. He’d used his birthright of power and money to acquire his perfect appearance and collection of deadly antiques. Then he’d gone about creating the infallible lure for his fantasy entertainment. He promised young, talented fighters the opportunity to succeed in their dream career. In exchange he asked only that they risk themselves, body and soul, for his amusement. How he loved pulling the cord of life around the necks of others. “I’ve come for my staff.” Curcio’s head snapped toward the stranger who’d invaded his thoughts and his home. “Who the hell are you and how did you get past my security?” “Rather easily.” The stranger spoke flawless Spanish, but Curcio knew he was a foreigner. Though he hated to admit it, the man possessed an immaculate elegance to rival his own. Tall, pale, and sleek as a great cat, he carried himself with the poise of a dancer. He wore a black silk shirt and pants, the only hint of color on his person was in the silver fleur-de-lis hanging on a leather cord around his neck and the antique silver ring boasting one of the largest rubies Curcio had ever seen. “As I said,” the stranger continued, “I’ve come for my staff. I’ll offer you financial compensation, of course.” “What are you talking about?” Curcio discreetly pressed an alarm button on the arm of his chair. “Buzz all you like, just don’t expect anyone to answer,” Jocelyn said. “Your guards are under my direction at the moment.” “I don’t know who you think you are,” Curcio said with deadly calm, “but get the hell out of my house or else you won’t live to regret it.” Jocelyn walked to a wall and stared at a gleaming sword with an intricately-shaped golden hilt. “You’re curious about me. I can feel it. You detest me, yet I’ve piqued your interest.” “Psycho.” Curcio stood and walked to the desk, but before he could open the drawer holding his handgun, Jocelyn pressed it shut. Curcio stepped back, nearly stumbling over a chair. He’d scarcely had the time to see the stranger move. “I don’t know what staff you’re talking about. I own over fifty.”
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Jocelyn ran a fingertip over the framed picture on the desk. It was of a black-haired, blue-eyed young woman closely resembling Curcio. “This one was purchased about a month ago. It’s very old. Twelfth century. Tipped with a sharp platinum point.” “Why do you want it?” “The one who sold it to you had no right to do so. It didn’t belong to him.” “If you’re so familiar with it, perhaps you can answer a few simple questions for me, like what it’s made of. I’ve had experts look at it, but no one can determine the type of wood.” “I’m not surprised.” Jocelyn doubted that most vampires, let alone ignorant mortals, would recognize an otherworldly substance as extinct as the poison in the Coven ring. “I want to buy the staff from you.” “None of my weapons are for sale.” “I’ll give you double what you paid.” “It’s not for sale,” Curcio repeated coldly then hesitated and smiled. “At least not for money.” “Ah.” Jocelyn returned the wicked smile. “You’re going to invite me to participate in your vicious little games. Don’t look so surprised. I know all about what goes on in that supposedly empty warehouse behind your antique shop. Illegal fighting for your entertainment. Some talented fighters were born and died there.” “How do you know all this? Who told you?” “I’m psychic.” “Sure you are,” Curcio snorted, though Jocelyn sensed his belief. “Truly I could take the staff from you as easily as I got past your guards, but your offer amuses me. It would be fairly good practice, at least enough for me to clean my claws.” Curcio’s scathing glance swept Jocelyn’s lean frame and exotic face. “I wasn’t going to ask you to fight. I was thinking more along the lines of a good fuck, or couldn’t you sense that, psychic?” Jocelyn glanced out the window and drew a calming breath. It had been years since anyone solicited him in such a fashion, and yes, he did tend to overlook or block out anything that reminded him of his life in Istanbul. Curcio’s “offer” had taken him off guard. “It’s a very tempting proposition.” Jocelyn turned to Curcio, disguising his repulsion with a seductive expression. “And I might have taken you up on it, but your personal coliseum interests me more. You often pay the winners of your games with a weapon from your collection.” “Those weapons only go to my favorites.” “How about this, I beat five of your best fighters, and you give me the staff.”
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“You’d last about two seconds. My fighters have won tournaments all over the world. They’re young, strong, and well trained. I know. I’ve provided their education myself.” “If that’s what you really believe, then why refuse me? If I can do what I claim, I’ll provide a performance you’ll never forget. If not, your protégés can use me for target practice. Either way, it will be entertainment.” “All for a staff?” Curcio looked disbelieving. Jocelyn turned, using his height advantage as he glowered at the other man. “One way or the other, by force or by award, the staff will be mine. You can give it up with or without compensation.” “I don’t like your attitude, even if you are insane.” Curcio’s teeth ground. “It will be worth it to see your skinny ass kicked. Be at the warehouse at nine o’clock tonight. Entrance is by invitation only. I’ll leave word that you’re coming.” “I’ll be eternally grateful,” Jocelyn mocked. “Brave words from a dead man.” Jocelyn walked to the study door. “See you at nine. Don’t bother showing me out. I know the way.” Outside Curcio’s house, Jocelyn paused, drawing a deep breath. Unable to spend another moment feeling as caged as he’d felt in the presence of a lecher like Curcio, he didn’t bother calling a taxi. Instead he trekked through the city streets, taking no notice of anything around him. In his mind, he wasn’t even in modern Madrid but in the richly-furnished home of his old master.
***** “Perfection again, my grateful one.” The words were lazy as they fell from shriveled lips. The sluggish tongue slid over grey-tinged teeth. Eyes, little more than narrow slits in a cave of wrinkled flesh, leered at Jocelyn’s lithe, naked body stretched out on the floor beside a bed covered in white satin sheets. At twenty years old, Jocelyn was the epitome of male perfection. His tall body was slim yet the muscles well defined. His face with its dark eyes and hood of elbow-length blond hair was like one of God’s fallen angels. Trained since the age of five, he was the perfect slave, passive, skilled in the ways of pleasure, and ignorant to the freedom of his blood kin. “My visitor at dinner tonight, the English man, Gamel, made an offer for you.” Jocelyn’s eyes didn’t reflect any emotion, nor did they move from where they stared at the ceiling. His near-sightedness was either something he’d been able to conceal better than he thought or something his master had chosen to ignore, given his other physical qualities. “What do you think of that, lovely one?”
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Never called by name but always by a pet-like endearment, Jocelyn knew better than to comment before being asked a direct question. That evening, as he’d been flaunted before the visitor, he’d been strangely drawn by the English man’s intense eyes. His look had promised freedom so long forgotten that Jocelyn scarcely recognized it. Still, it had restored rebelliousness within him. Several times Gamel had spoken to him and asked him questions about his life in Istanbul. Such questions angered the master, though the Englishman seemed not to notice. Only Jocelyn recognized the tightness around his master’s mouth and the tension in the gnarled hands as they tightened fiercely on his silk robes. Gamel spoke in English, a language Jocelyn had to strain to recall and of which he had little command. “What do you think?” the master pressed. “Would it please you if I left?” Jocelyn asked in return. “Never fear, grateful one, you will never, never leave me.” Jocelyn bit back the urge to twist the loose-skinned neck violently in his hands as the master so often did to him in the throes of passion. Only Jocelyn imagined not letting go until he squeezed all the life away. Lecher. Swine. Die beneath his servant’s grateful hands.
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Chapter Thirteen When Charlie arrived at her father’s hotel, she was disappointed to learn that Jocelyn wasn’t there. Robert explained the progress they had made at Ricco’s and assured her that Jocelyn would find the staff. “I’m not worried about the staff. I’m worried about him,” Charlie said. Robert looked confused. “About him?” “Robert, I think we need to talk.” Cassie took her husband’s arm and accompanied him to his room while Charlie took her sketchbook and proceeded to the lobby. Working on her art would help keep her sane until she could speak to Jocelyn again. She sat on a couch, her pencil soaring over the pages in that strange, rapid manner in which she worked when psychically inspired. Her visions confused her, even as she applied them to paper. Usually she drew people, old-fashioned places, or even natural settings. She knew now that most of them came from Jocelyn’s memories, so she had no idea what the modern, dismal looking city she sketched had to do with him. Her pencil shaded in the corroded bricks of a warehouse in front of which stood the grease-stained windows of an antique shop beside some martial arts school with a sign painted in the shape of a purple dragon. She hesitated a moment, staring at the picture. Perhaps she was still seeing inside Jocelyn’s mind? Her father had spoken of an antique dealer who had purchased the staff. She hurried to the front desk and held out her sketchbook to the clerk. “Have you ever seen this place before?” He examined it carefully then shook his head. The clerk next to him glanced absently over her co-worker’s shoulder to view the sketch. “You’re a very good artist, Miss,” she said. “You have been to the Purple Dragon Studio before? My brother trains there.” “Purple Dragon Studio? Yes, I’ve been there, but I can’t seem to remember the street it’s on. Would you tell me?” Charlie’s pulse raced as she listened to the clerk’s directions then she ran for a taxi. Though she couldn’t rationalize her feelings, she knew Jocelyn was there at the Purple Dragon Studio. Sybil’s words haunted her. He needs to know he’s not alone. “You’re not, Jocelyn,” Charlie whispered to herself from her seat in the back of a cab. “As long as you have me, you never will be.”
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***** It was close to nine o’clock when Charlie’s taxi stopped in front of the Purple Dragon Studio. The lights were still on, though no students were in sight. An instructor sat in the office window. As soon as she stepped out of the cab, the driver sped off before she could ask him to wait. Not that she blamed him. During the drive, the city had become seedier, crawling with prostitutes and undesirables, until Charlie began to wonder if she should have just waited for Jocelyn back at the hotel. Then she remembered her father said Jocelyn had been gone since the day before, which meant he might be in some sort of trouble. She had to find him. She knocked on the office window. The instructor waved her away, but she pleaded until he finally came to the door. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m looking for someone,” she said. “I think he might have visited this school.” “Plenty of people visit the school.” “I know, but you might remember him. He’s not Spanish. He’s tall and slim with blond hair, dark eyes, and a big attitude. You wouldn’t miss him.” The instructor stared at her for a moment before stepping aside and allowing her to enter. She did so hesitantly, wondering if it was more foolish to lock herself inside with a strange man or to wait outside in such a bad part of town. Desperate to find Jocelyn, she chose to step inside. The instructor made a phone call, speaking in such rapid Spanish that Charlie was unable to completely follow his words. Finally he turned to her and said, “Walk behind this building to the warehouse entrance.” Charlie nodded, glancing at herself in the wall of mirrors as she walked down the training hall floor. Dressed in jeans, hiking boots, and a plaid shirt, her hair braided, she realized how vulnerable she must look wandering through the semi-abandoned city. As she approached the massive gray building with its boarded up windows, her heartbeat quickened. What if she’d been lured to the warehouse and someone waited to rape and kill her? What if— “Charlie, what the hell are you doing here?” Jocelyn demanded as a side door opened and he stepped past two heavily-muscled men dressed in black and carrying guns. He wore flowing black silk, an outfit she’d seen on him many times before but which never failed to arouse her desire, as it accentuated his perfect body to advantage. She noticed black, blunt-toe boots tipped with steel covered his feet, a bit more obviously threatening than he usually wore. His hands were taped like a fighter’s. “Jocelyn, I had to talk to you.” She rushed to him, relieved. Simply seeing him made her feel safe. “I can’t believe you followed me here,” he snapped. “I’d send you away at once, but I doubt we can get a cab to come here at this hour.”
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“No kidding. The guy who dropped me here took off like a rocket. Not that I blame him, but…Wait a second! What are you doing here? Did you find the staff?” “Oh, he found it,” said a mocking voice touched with a Spanish accent. An attractive, elegantly-dressed man joined them, his gaze raking Charlie. “Now he just has to win it.” “Win it?” Charlie glanced at Jocelyn in confusion. “She’s not involved in this.” Jocelyn glared at Curcio. “Of course not.” Curcio smiled, exposing his even, white teeth. “But she should have the best view of the festivities. She’ll be safer inside seated with me than out here in this filth.” Curcio’s manicured hand gestured toward the city. In spite of his suave appearance, Charlie felt an instant dislike of the man. Evil emanated from him almost as much as from Edrik. “Unfortunately, you will have to wait inside,” Jocelyn agreed. “How wonderful. And she’ll be safe.” Curcio’s lips smiled though his eyes did not. “Until you lose.” “Lose? I don’t understand. Jocelyn, what’s going on?” “Shall we? It’s almost time.” Curcio stepped aside so Jocelyn and Charlie could pass. As they walked through the empty corridors, Charlie became aware of voices behind walls and the familiar sound of fighters sparring and hitting bags. She also detected the clash of weapons and sensed nervous excitement throughout the building. “I only have time for a summary,” Jocelyn said, his hand on her arm as he guided her to an elevator which carried them up several floors. Curcio had taken a different route, giving Jocelyn and Charlie a brief moment alone. “Curcio is rich and sadistic. He enjoys making people fight for him. He likes watching. He offers opportunity to his fighters in exchange for their best fighting years.” “Sounds like a twisted Faust.” “Exactly. Anyway, he bought the staff from Ricco. I want it back. I told him I’d beat five of his best fighters if he’d give me back the staff.” “Why?” Charlie grasped his arm, staring at him with worry and confusion. “You could have just taken it. He couldn’t have stopped you.” “Because I can use the practice. How else do you think I’ve become such an able fighter over the years? It won’t be difficult.” “I’m not saying it will, especially if you’ve had blood, but you haven’t, have you?” “It wouldn’t be fair if I had. Since you’re here, you should hold onto this for me so it won’t be ruined.” He reached into his pocket, withdrew the Coven ring, and handed it to her. “Jocelyn, I know why you’re doing this.” She brushed his fingers as she took the ring. “You don’t have to punish yourself.”
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“Punish myself?” He laughed. “Sometimes you’re so innocent. I want you to know, Charlie, just how much you’ve complicated things by coming here. Before all I had to worry about was getting the staff. Now I have to worry about you, too.” “I came here because I have to tell you something,” she said as the elevator stopped and the door opened. “Later. Right now I have to get ready.” “No, now, Jocelyn! It can’t wait!” “My, my. The kitten has teeth.” Curcio smiled, joining them as they stepped out of the elevator. Two more black-clothed guards flanked him, staring blankly at Charlie and Jocelyn. “What is it that can’t wait, dear? Perhaps you should tell him now, as you won’t have a chance later.” “Do you really think you have fighters who can beat him?” Charlie couldn’t resist snapping in Curcio’s arrogant face. “You should just give us the staff now.” “So you think this scarecrow can fight?” Curcio giggled. “I think he’s going to beat the shit out of your best damn fighters.” “My men have been trained in the best schools. Most of them have grown up in tougher neighborhoods than either of you have ever seen. He hasn’t a chance.” Charlie glared. “Then why bother to have him fight?” “Because I’d like to see that arrogance ripped from his ghostly face.” “Because I refused to join him in the bedroom,” Jocelyn said, raising a groomed eyebrow and smiling at Charlie. Curcio clenched his teeth so tightly Charlie was certain they’d chip. “Come with me.” Curcio grasped her wrist. She jerked way. “Don’t touch me! Jocelyn?” “You’re the one who came here, Charlie. Now just sit and watch. Hopefully it won’t take long.” “Oh, it won’t,” Curcio said. “Jocelyn!” Charlie called, but he’d already turned from her and walked down the corridor, his boots clicking softly with each step as he tied his hair securely at his nape with a black elastic. Charlie followed Curcio through a door to their left and found herself in what must have once been the manager’s office overlooking the enormous loading dock. The office was barricaded with bulletproof glass. A plush rug covered the floor. A row of cushioned black chairs faced the dock, part of which was roped off to form a square boxing ring. Guards carrying guns stood at each of the four corners. About ten more lined the concrete walls. “A lovely view. We can see everything and not have to worry about getting dirty from the blood.” Curcio smiled, gesturing for Charlie to sit beside him. “Would you like a drink?”
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Charlie sat, glancing over her shoulder at the polished oak bar standing against the far wall of the office. Mounted behind the wall were four weapons, two swords, a jeweled dagger, and a fighting staff tipped with platinum. “No,” Charlie stated as one of the guards walked to the bar, mixed a gin and tonic, and brought it to Curcio. He took a sip and placed it on the small marble table between his chair and Charlie’s. “I thought we’d begin today with some of my newer fighters. That way your friend can watch first and perhaps lose his nerve.” Charlie smiled without a trace of humor. “You can’t really believe that.” “You have much faith in him.” Curcio glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “He must be a marvel in bed.” Charlie’s lip curled with disgust as she turned from Curcio to stare at the ring into which two sinewy men just stepped. One of the black-clothed guards strode to the center of the ring. Everyone’s gaze fixed on the office window. Curcio nodded and the guard called for the fighting to begin. Charlie wasn’t exactly sure what she’d been expecting, but nothing prepared her for the brutality Curcio called entertainment. She’d seen fights before, had even participated in tournaments herself, but Curcio’s ring had its own rules. The men wore street cloths, including shoes. No holds were barred. Strikes and kicks to the groin and temple were allowed, as were the use of elbows and knees. By the end of the fight, the ring was filthy with blood and sweat. Though one of the men remained swaying on his feet, neither looked like the winner of a fight, but rather like the victims of a mugging. The guards dragged the loser away. The winner managed a few steps before he was carried out as well. “That was a little rough, but they’re new,” Curcio explained. “Wait until you see my favorites. Once they finish with Jocelyn, I’ll have them fight each other. They’ll fight well tonight, as I’ve offered them a bonus.” “What kind of bonus?” Charlie was almost afraid to ask. “You.” Curcio’s eyes glistened with amusement as he took another sip of his drink. “Unless, of course, your friend wins. Hmmm, you really don’t look frightened.” “I already told you what Jocelyn will do to your so-called favorites.” Charlie was surprised that she could hide her fear. Not that she doubted Jocelyn’s ability, but she sensed that even if he won, Curcio wouldn’t release them easily. After watching one more fight that ended as brutally as the first, Curcio pulled a cellular phone from his pocket and dialed. The guard in the center of the ring answered the phone on his hip. Curcio spoke softly in Spanish and the guard nodded. “Now we’ll see if your confidence is warranted,” Curcio said, settling back into the black cushions of his chair, his tapered, manicured fingers resting on the oak arms. Charlie did the same, appearing collected as Jocelyn stepped into the ring. He looked so lean and graceful next to the ape-like guards. Charlie understood Curcio’s
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doubts regarding his ability. He made the same mistake Mark had on the day he’d challenged Jocelyn to a sparring match. However, this was not a friendly match with a college football player, this was a serious, potentially deadly fight with criminals trained to amuse a perverted mastermind. It wasn’t only male pride at risk, but the Coven staff and Charlie’s life. For the first time she understood Jocelyn’s anger upon seeing her there. She had interfered where she didn’t belong. Now she could only hope that her presence wouldn’t ruin Jocelyn’s concentration. Good luck, Jocelyn, she thought to herself. We’ll be out of here soon. Below, as Jocelyn climbed into the ring, his thoughts darted from the impending matches to Charlie. Never in his life had he met a woman with more courage and such a lack of sense. If just once she would do as he told her, he might have some peace. Not that he feared losing, but if he had any idea she was going to show up, he’d have made certain to take enough blood to ensure an easy win. Even better, he would have used his mind control to take the staff from Curcio without any sort of bargaining. He didn’t trust Curcio a bit, especially with Charlie sitting beside him like a pet trapped in a cage. A tall, fair-haired young man jogged toward the ring and stepped in, his sinewy bulk displayed to advantage in the blue shorts he wore. His bare chest and arms rippled with muscle. He was handsome, confident, and had obviously never experienced a loss in his professional fighting career. Jocelyn knew the kind. He had spent the first few years of his immortal life suffering painful defeats at the hands of such men. More often than not he’d lain near death in battlefields strewn with bodies and slippery with blood that fed the grass rather than his desperate mouth. Finally a stray animal, a scavenger like himself, would venture to feast on him. He’d use his waning strength to feed off the creature so he could be reborn to fight again. Eventually he’d learned to overcome the power of his bulkier opponents by developing a fighting technique that used speed, thought, and pressure points. He’d trained with masters no taller than his chest as well as vampiresses like Olympia and Marina who’d shown him that size and strength only brushed the surface of good fighting. Now, centuries later, Jocelyn faced one more of thousands of boys who underestimated him. The youth stared, his lips drawn back in a mocking smile, revealing a gold tooth in the upper corner of his mouth. A class act, Jocelyn mocked to himself. “Mr. Ferrer must be joking,” the boy sneered. “Maybe,” Jocelyn said, “but the joke’s on you.” “I’ll twist you like a pretzel.” Jocelyn shrugged, his expression as unimpressed with the threat as he was with the fighter himself. The guard standing between them motioned for the fighting to begin then leapt out of the ring.
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Jocelyn’s opponent attacked ferociously with clean punches that surely would have shattered Jocelyn’s jaw, had they connected. Jocelyn was in no mood to waste precious strength. He caught the first available punch in a circular motion that spun the youth onto his back with a thud that shook the ring. Almost as his opponent landed, the heel of Jocelyn’s boot struck his solar-plexus. Stunned and winded, the man kicked out at Jocelyn, but not quickly enough. With the palm of his hand, Jocelyn struck him in the face. Blood splattered, some spraying across Jocelyn’s cheekbones. The scent of it nearly made him shiver. He stepped back from his opponent as guards hauled the inert body away. Jocelyn reached up a hand to wipe the blood from his face and couldn’t resist licking it from his fingertips. He turned glistening eyes up to the office where Charlie and Curcio had both risen to their feet, their expressions tense. Jocelyn’s next opponent could have been the first one’s twin. Sauntering into the ring like a pompous cat, he said nothing but watched Jocelyn with far more wariness than the first man. Jocelyn had already proven his skill, and this next fighter had no intention of being made a fool by the pale-faced stranger. The first opponent’s style had been based on strength, but this next man combined power and intelligence—a deadly partnership. He and Jocelyn circled one another for several moments, trading blows, though none connected. Jocelyn attempted to catch one of the man’s flying fists in a lock up and discovered his opponent also had knowledge of judo. He managed to carry Jocelyn to the mat along with him. An elbow grazed Jocelyn’s mouth, but luckily he turned in time to avoid the full effect of the blow. His lips still tore and his mouth filled with blood. Unfortunately, his own blood couldn’t sustain him. Such loss only weakened him as it would a mortal, though it increased his blood-lust. As he struggled on the mat with the groping bulk of his larger opponent, he felt the vampire in him clawing through his semblance of mortality. The vampire would survive at any cost. Jocelyn had the advantage on the ground. Grappling had always been his specialty. Though his upper body might not match that of a bulkier opponent, his legs were as strong as the twisted trees of the South American jungles where he’d trained. Still, in his near-starving state, it took several moments of intense concentration and muscletension before his opponent’s struggles stopped. He felt the heat of the man’s body against his own and the mingling of their sweat as it bled through Jocelyn’s black silk shirt. He heard the man’s heart throbbing and could almost taste his blood through the salt-scented skin hovering so close to his mouth. Jocelyn’s teeth ached to bite him as his body, desperate for blood, cried out for the rush of inhuman strength. The burly youth lay panting in Jocelyn’s deadly embrace. The vampire sensed the fury and hatred of the fatigue that forced the young fighter to submit to his pale opponent’s wiry strength and greater skill. When Jocelyn finally released him, the youth made one final attempt to kick him, but Jocelyn was faster. His steel-covered toe shattered the man’s jaw. 153
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Jocelyn stepped to a corner of the ring, awaiting his next match. He glanced up at Charlie. Sorrow shone in her expression. Jocelyn turned away. The last thing he needed was his feelings for her to surface. He required strength, hatred, and coldness of heart to win back the staff and Charlie’s freedom. If he had to destroy every mortal in Curcio’s fold to do so, he would without hesitation. Curcio glared at Jocelyn who stood so calmly in the ring, his face streaked with blood he’d had the audacity to taste. His sweat-dampened shirt clung to his sleeklymuscled shoulders, chest, and back as he gazed up at the uncultivated, badly-dressed woman standing so confidently beside Curcio. Curcio considered himself a perceptive man. He saw the lust glowing in Jocelyn’s eyes, even from a distance. Instantly he knew it was the boyish little American who was the reason for Jocelyn’s refusal to sleep with him. Now more than ever Curcio was desperate for him to lose. He would tie him up and keep him alive long enough to watch his lover raped and killed. “I told you.” Charlie flung her words at Curcio like a slap. “You were right, my dear. There’s more to him than I thought. However, I never lose.” Curcio picked up his phone again and called the guard below. When he’d finished speaking he flashed Charlie a wicked smile. “Our bargain was for him to beat five of my best fighters. He’s defeated two which leaves me three more.” “He’ll do the same to them.” “Perhaps, but let’s see how he does against all three at once.” Charlie drew such a sharp breath that Curcio laughed. His mirth was short-lived. His phone rang and he picked it up. After speaking furiously, he slammed it down with such force Charlie thought it might break. “It seems he’ll only be taking on two at once. My favorite fighter has gotten temperamental. He’s been watching Jocelyn and demands to fight him one-on-one.” “The man must be masochistic,” Charlie sneered, keeping her pretense of arrogance. “It doesn’t matter,” Curcio snapped. “He is truly the greatest fighter I’ve ever seen. If Jocelyn beats these next two, I know he won’t defeat Brett.” Something in the way Curcio spoke of Brett made her fearful. A man like Curcio didn’t worship anyone but himself, yet when he talked about Brett, his expression was awed. Charlie’s gaze flew to the ring as the next two fighters raced across the warehouse and leapt over the ropes, not even waiting for the signal to begin. Jocelyn met them in the center of the ring, blocking and countering their barrage of lethal blows with his usual speed and grace. As Charlie watched, she knew from past experience the vampire felt pain and fatigue, but it was nearly impossible to tell by his movements. All his motions were quick, flowing, and precise.
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Her fists clenched at her sides as one of the men struck him in the back of the head while his attention focused on blocking a kick from the other. Jocelyn staggered forward into the second man’s fist, but kicked backward, sending the first opponent flying into the ropes. The second had gained confidence when he’d struck Jocelyn’s face, however his next attack was cut short as Jocelyn caught his arm and hurled him forward into the first man rushing towards them. Jocelyn kicked at the two locked bodies. They tumbled onto the mat where his booted feet finished the fight with two sharp kicks to their temples. Spinning on his heel, Jocelyn glared up at Curcio who spoke into the intercom wired to the left arm of his chair. “Don’t look so confident, Jocelyn. I still have one left, and you’re in no condition to fight him. Perhaps if you were fresh, and even then I’d doubt it.” “So far you’ve only talked a good fight,” Jocelyn called. “Give me a real challenge, if you can.” Suddenly Jocelyn caught a scent far stronger than any mortal present. His pulse quickened with apprehension and a touch of disbelief. “I’m your challenge, Jocelyn.” All eyes turned to the man approaching the ring. Tall, sleekly muscled without appearing heavy as the pumped-up young fighters of the previous matches, Brett moved almost as elegantly as Jocelyn. His pale blue eyes were a startling contrast to his flawless light-olive skin. Thick black hair hung in a tail brushing the center of his broad back. Jocelyn’s gaze focused on Brett with curiosity mingled with competitiveness he hadn’t felt since the last time he’d met Edrik. Brett was the most deadly of opponents, another vampire.
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Chapter Fourteen “Good,” Jocelyn said as he and Brett circled one another. “I was just warming up with those others.” “So I can see,” Brett said without sarcasm. “But you haven’t properly prepared for me. You’re hungry. I’m not.” “Score one for you. It’s been years since someone has surprised me.” When the fighting began, the entire warehouse fell into tense silence. Never had any of the observers seen two more perfectly matched fighters. They met each other blow for blow with almost identical skill and technique. They had apparently studied similar styles, yet after the first grueling moments, it became obvious that Brett not only had the advantage of coming to the fight fresh, but possessed slightly more artistry of movement. Nevertheless, Jocelyn’s determination to win compensated for his weaknesses. He noted that Brett preferred high kicks to more sensible lower ones. Jocelyn finally caught one of the incredibly quick kicks aimed at his head and knocked Brett off balance. No sooner had Brett hit the ground when his leg lashed the back of Jocelyn’s ankle, sending him sprawling to the mat beside him. Kicks and punches turned to grappling. Unfortunately, Brett was as experienced as Jocelyn and soon had him in an immovable arm lock. From where she stood beside Curcio, Charlie’s entire body tensed so much her muscles ached. As soon as Brett had approached the ring, she’d sensed trouble. The man radiated power like no one she’d ever seen, except for Jocelyn and Edrik. The fight had begun with both men testing each other, skillfully blocking their lashing legs and spinning fists, until, almost at the same moment, they drew blood. From so high above the ring, she noted the mat looked slippery with the red elixir. Brett’s white pants and sleeveless T-shirt were nearly transparent as they clung to his body with blood and sweat. Jocelyn’s matted blond hair was streaked crimson. For the first time since she’d known him, she saw a waning of what she thought to be unstoppable endurance. Both men’s movements lost any semblance of beauty as their fight mutated from one of skill to one of desperation. Curcio laughed aloud as Brett held Jocelyn on the ground in what appeared to be the final moments of the fight. No one, not even the guards closest to the ring, heard the words exchanged between the opponents. “It was a good fight, but this is it for you,” Brett whispered to Jocelyn. “There’s no way out of this for you.”
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Jocelyn lay panting in Brett’s steely arms, knowing that realistically the dark warrior was right. The only possible way out of the lock up would be to break his own arm. “I have to admit, I’m impressed…” Brett began, but gasped in utter shock as Jocelyn jerked from his hold. The snap of bone sounded throughout the warehouse. Even one of the guards looked repulsed by Jocelyn’s act of self-mutilation. Finally free of Brett’s grasp, Jocelyn struck him in the throat with his good hand. Brett instinctively grasped his injured neck and Jocelyn’s steel covered toe struck him in the temple. The dark warrior collapsed, unconscious. Staggering to his feet, Jocelyn lifted his gaze to Curcio’s stunned face. Beside him, Charlie was pale, her hands pressed to her breast as if Jocelyn’s pain had been hers. After a moment, Curcio stepped forward and lifted a window set in the bulletproof glass. “Impressive,” he said coolly. “Stay here and fight for me as a regular.” “Send Charlie down,” Jocelyn called, his voice not belying a bit of the pain flaring up, his broken arm held limply at his side. Curcio glanced at her and nodded. She wasted no time disappearing from the office. Moments later she stood beside Jocelyn. He didn’t glance at her as his gaze remained fixed on Curcio. “Now the staff,” he said. With clenched teeth, Curcio motioned for one of the guards to take the staff from the wall. Curcio held it in his hands for a brief moment before flinging it out the window so it landed at Jocelyn’s feet. Without bending, Jocelyn used his booted foot to flip the staff up into his good hand. “Now,” Curcio shouted, “will you stay and fight for me?” Jocelyn glared at him in reply before walking out of the ring, Charlie at his heels. Once outside the warehouse, they hurried down several blocks before Jocelyn stooped suddenly and sat in an alley, his back braced against the side of a graffitimarked building. Charlie stooped in front of him, her face etched with worry as she reached out to him then stopped, fearful of causing him more pain. “Jocelyn, you need blood.” “Don’t tell me what I need!” he snarled, his eyes glistening. “I still can’t believe you were stupid enough to follow me!” “I’m not the one who got you into that fight,” she said through clenched teeth. In spite of her compassion for him, his attitude infuriated her. She was tired of being treated like his property. “With your telepathic skills, you could have made Curcio give you the staff, but no, you had to make a big deal out of it. You had to nearly get yourself killed!” 157
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He leaned his head back against the cold bricks and closed his eyes. “Charlie, don’t do this to me. Not now.” “You’re right. Once we get out of this shit hole and you’re feeling better, we’ll really talk, buster.” “Charlie, shut up!” Jocelyn hissed. She was about to speak but noticed he was staring past her. Suddenly she became aware of men speaking Spanish behind her. Slowly, she glanced over her shoulder and saw three rough-looking men, two carrying clubs, the third a knife. Jocelyn pushed himself to his feet and stepped in front of Charlie, his eyes glowing reddish as he growled like an animal, his fangs bared and dripping saliva. The men stepped back in shock but recovered quickly. The one with the knife sprang at Jocelyn who kicked the weapon from his hand. Another lunged at his broken arm, knocking him into the wall. “Give me that!” Charlie tore the staff from Jocelyn’s good hand in time to poke the blunt end into the groin of the third attacker. As he fell, she struck him in the back of the head. The one who’d lost the knife grabbed her from behind, nearly cracking her ribs, but she stomped her booted heel into his instep. His grip loosened and she used the advantage to strike backwards with her elbow until she broke free of him. She turned, gouging his shoulder with the staff’s platinum point and pinning him to the side of the building. Shocked by her own brutality, she stared wide-eyed at the metal protruding from the hollering man’s blood-soaked shirt. Jocelyn was on his knees, leaning over the body of the man he’d been fighting. His fangs had torn his victim’s forearm and he drank greedily, blood trickling from the corners of his mouth. “Oh my God,” Charlie cried, yanking the staff from the punk who collapsed on the ground, clutching his shoulder. Jocelyn looked up at her, fresh blood glossing his lips and streaking his face. His eyes lost their unnatural glow as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve and stood, approaching Charlie. She dropped the staff and backed away from him. “Don’t touch me.” She was far too upset to notice the misery in his eyes as he picked up the staff and cleaned its tip on the shirt of one of the unconscious men. “There’s a phone down the street. We’ll call help for them.” “Call help for…I think I’m going to be sick.” She covered her mouth with her hand. “No, you’re not,” he said flatly and stepped aside for her to walk out of the alley. “Do you know enough Spanish to speak with the police?” She nodded. “Then go call them. I’ll take care of things here.”
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She knew by “take care” of things, he meant he’d clear their memories of what had happened to them. Charlie rushed from the alley and was nearly struck by a black car that screeched to a stop beside her. “Charlie, wait!” shouted the driver. She screamed as Brett, still dressed in his bloodstained clothes, stepped out of the car. Jocelyn was beside her in a second, the staff clenched in his good hand, his fangs bared. “Touch her and this time I’ll kill you!” “You’re in no condition to kill anybody.” Brett’s gaze held Jocelyn’s. “You have taken some blood, though. I can smell it. I’m here to help you.” Jocelyn raised a questioning eyebrow. Brett pulled out a cellular phone and made a quick call. As he spoke, Jocelyn lowered the staff. Though wary of Brett, he seemed less aggressive. “The police are on their way. I’d advise you to get into my car before they arrive.” “Not until you tell us what you want.” “You’ve piqued my curiosity with your fighting skill and the reason why you have it,” Brett said. When Jocelyn still looked unconvinced, he continued, “After you left, Curcio wanted to send two of his guards to kill you—shoot you—and bring back the staff. I convinced him otherwise.” “Hypnosis?” Brett nodded. “That was after he fired me, of course, but I was getting bored with his little games, anyway. You’re much more interesting.” Sirens exploded in the distance. Brett hopped into his car and glanced at his companions. Charlie turned to Jocelyn who nodded curtly. They slid into the backseat as Brett sped off. Jocelyn and Charlie sat apart, staring out opposite windows. “So are you going to answer me?” Brett asked. “What was the question?” Jocelyn replied. “Why do you fight so well? I sensed right away that you’re not a fighter in spite of your talent. Not only that, why did you bother with Curcio’s games? It’s obvious you wanted that staff, but you could have just taken it.” “He’s masochistic,” Charlie muttered. Jocelyn glanced at her sharply but her gaze remained on the passing buildings and random groups of people walking and hanging out on corners. “Why were you there?” Jocelyn asked Brett. “A fighter of your caliber is simply wasting his time with Curcio.” “Or honing his skills.” “As I was.”
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“No.” Brett glanced in the rearview mirror. “It was more than that for you. You made sure you didn’t take any blood before coming to the warehouse. You were weak as a mortal. At first I could scarcely tell you were one of us. You’re not just honing skills. You’re preparing for the brink of death. Who are you after, Jocelyn? Or maybe someone’s after you?” “It’s not your affair. All you need know is that I beat you.” “Sure.” Brett laughed. “By sheer will. I want to know why.” “Why do you care?” “Because if whoever you’re after is bad enough for you to go to such extremes preparing for him, you might need help.” “I don’t need any help.” “No, you don’t need anything from anybody. That’s your whole damn problem!” Charlie snapped. Jocelyn didn’t so much as glance at her. Brett pulled over to the side of the road in front of their hotel. He turned to face Jocelyn. “Look, you and I can sense things from each other. You know you can trust me. You also know I’m a better fighter than you are.” Jocelyn tossed him a look which said he’d love to deny the truth of Brett’s words but couldn’t. “I’m offering you my help. Think about it. I’ll be in touch.” Bret picked up a coat from the front passenger seat and handed it to Jocelyn. “Put this on and use the hood or else you’ll cause one hell of a scene when you walk into that lobby.” Jocelyn shrugged on the coat. Brett did the same with another and stepped out of the car. “Where do you think you’re going?” Jocelyn demanded. “Your arm needs to be set or else it won’t heal right. I’ll do it for you, unless you have someone else who can do the job.” Brett winked. “I studied medicine for a few hundred years.” “If you heal like you fight, I’m not sure I want to be a patient.” “One thing I appreciate is gratitude,” Brett said as the three entered the lobby. “Well don’t look for it there.” Charlie jerked her thumb in Jocelyn’s direction. As soon as they stepped into the hotel, Cassie rushed to Charlie, her face lined with concern. “Where have you been? Your father and I have been worried sick. He and Ricco have been looking for you for hours!” Charlie threw her arms around Cassie, venting the tears she’d repressed since the fight in the alley. “What happened?” Cassie held her tightly, glaring at Jocelyn over her daughter’s shoulder.
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He swept past them without raising his face beneath the darkness of the hood. “She’s had a bad night,” Brett said to Cassie as he followed Jocelyn to the elevator. “But there’s nothing like a mother to help that.” “Who…is that?” Cassie murmured as the elevator doors slid shut, concealing Jocelyn and the dark-haired stranger beside him. Several floors up, Jocelyn unlocked the door to the room Robert had booked for him, not bothering to turn on the light as he and Brett stepped inside. They shrugged off their coats and tossed them onto the bed before Jocelyn sat in one of the chairs by the breakfast table. As Brett inspected his broken arm, Jocelyn gazed out the picture window to his right. “It’s not too bad,” Brett said. “The blood you had earlier is helping. You’re already healing.” “Looks like you wasted no time.” Jocelyn glanced over Brett’s face that was completely healed of the cuts and bruises he’d acquired earlier. “I don’t abstain. I’m going to set your arm now. It’ll hurt.” “And I thought it would tickle.” “Are you always so sarcastic?” “Only in my good moods.” Jocelyn drew a sharp breath as Brett snapped his arm back into position. “Done. Clean yourself up, get more blood, and you’ll be fine.” “Take two type Os and call you in the morning?” Jocelyn raised an eyebrow. “Hey, you’re all right. Annoying, but all right. So, how long have you been fighting?” Brett stretched out on the bed. “About six hundred years. Just make yourself comfortable,” Jocelyn said sarcastically as he walked to the bathroom and leaned against the sink, staring at himself in the mirror and feeling disgusted. His hair was matted with blood, his face bruised and lips cut. Clotted blood smeared both cheeks and caked the brow over his left eye. Sometimes when he saw himself in such a state, he wondered how he’d gotten there. Brett was right when he said he wasn’t a fighter. “It’s a wonder we haven’t run into each other before,” Brett commented. “Where did you study?” “Almost everywhere. And you?” “The same. I fought for the Caesars. I was a born warrior, Jocelyn. I spent years trying to learn how to be everything but. I tried being a healer, a scholar, but it didn’t matter. We cannot deny what we are. Fighting doesn’t rule my life, but it’s part of it and always will be.” “Circumstances change who we are.” “I suppose. You’re one of the best challenges I’ve ever had, but you’re no fighter. You’re no killer. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not dumb enough to underestimate you like
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Curcio and his goons. I’ve known plenty of people with the killer instinct who don’t have half your guts and determination. You might look like a wimp, but that’s just a clever mask.” “Wimp?” Jocelyn stuck his head out the bathroom door. “Excuse me?” “You know what I mean. You’re not the macho type.” “Not all of us need to act like Neanderthals to be considered men. Present company included.” Jocelyn glanced over Brett’s well-muscled form and unshaven face. “I’m damn curious about you.” Brett deliberately ignored Jocelyn’s observation. “I know you’re after someone and I know you have good reason.” “Why do you care?” “Like I said, we can’t change what we are, but we can use it for some good. I have a warrior’s skill. I’ve served in armies for more than a thousand years. I’ve learned to fight not for a particular country or people, but for the oppressed. I go where I’m needed.” “Noble. Thanks for your help, Brett.” Jocelyn closed the bathroom door and stepped into the shower, fully expecting Brett to leave. He could scarcely believe when the other man’s scent remained strong. When he stepped out of the bathroom, Brett sat at the table eating a meal he’d ordered from room service. “So what’s his name?” Brett wiped his mouth on his arm and tossed a stripped chicken bone onto his plate. “This guy you’re after?” “It seems I have to be blunt.” Jocelyn pulled on his pants. “Get out.” Brett’s pale eyes stared into Jocelyn’s. “All right. I know when to quit. I’ll say this much. You know you can trust me, just like I know I can trust you. If you reconsider, this is where you can reach me.” Brett handed Jocelyn a black business card with only a white phone number imprinted on it. As he reached the door, he glanced back at Jocelyn. “You’re not all that old for one of our kind. Don’t lose who you are because of what someone else did to you. Oh yeah, I know that look in your eyes. I’ve seen it before. I caused it in a lot of people, and that’s the only thing I regret about my life. See you around, Jocelyn. At least I hope so.” Brett closed the door behind him, leaving Jocelyn staring out the half-open window to the pale, cloud-streaked moon.
***** The night was cool and the air heavy with the feeling of rain. By the look of the cloudy night, a storm would soon rock the ship and the frothing black waves around it. Jocelyn stared at the moon, recalling the nights he wished he could be watching its distant light but had instead been called to his Master. 162
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“You are your own master now.” Gamel stood by Jocelyn, placing a hand on his shoulder. In spite of his desire to pull away, Jocelyn remained still beneath the older man’s touch. Sensing his discomfort, Gamel let his hand drop back to his side as he watched Jocelyn with compassion. Gamel realized the youth’s submissive veneer disguised a soul that was anything but passive. Every throb of his mortal heart shrieked with a barrage of emotions. Every blink of those sultry lashes scarcely concealed the passion in his dark eyes. “Do you miss Istanbul at all?” Gamel asked, his steel-colored hair lifting in the night breeze and mingling with Jocelyn’s yellow locks. “No.” “Are you happy to be going home to meet your mother?” “I don’t remember her,” he lied. Sometimes, when alone, he recalled a lovely woman with gentle hands who sang to him, but she was a distant dream that faded with the presence of violence and perversion. “You resemble her,” Gamel said. “She’s a beautiful woman. You have your father’s height and fine build, however. Do you remember him?” Bloody hands thrust Jocelyn behind a pile of wood that had been their carriage. The clash of steel combined with a death shriek. His body landed with a thud beside Jocelyn on the bloodslicked grass, the eyes still open, dark, and oozing red even in death. “No,” Jocelyn murmured. “I don’t remember him.” “I’m here to help you,” Gamel said. “You need not lie to me. Trust me, Jocelyn.” Jocelyn could have laughed aloud. “There’s still time for that,” Gamel whispered, more to the moon than to Jocelyn. “And I can wait.”
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Chapter Fifteen For over an hour Jocelyn lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, his arm throbbing and his thoughts on Charlie. If anything had happened to her tonight, he never would have forgiven himself. After what happened in the alley, he probably wouldn’t need to worry about her following him again. He’d seen the horror on her face when he’d looked up at her, his mouth dripping with his victim’s fresh blood. Yes, he’d taken blood from her, but that had been during an act of love. Tonight she’d witnessed the true brutality of the vampire. Just as he’d feared, she hated him for it. He sat up, realizing that in spite of the weariness he felt, he was too hungry and miserable to sleep. Though he hated to admit it, he craved Charlie’s acceptance even more than he craved blood. Pulling on a black shirt and tucking it into his jeans, he walked to the lobby and sat alone in one of the cushioned chairs, staring at a painting of a cathedral. Moments later, Cassie joined him. She looked tired and pale in contrast to the dark brown suit she wore. “You’re still up?” Jocelyn commented. “Yes. Robert’s sleeping, but I couldn’t.” “How’s Charlie?” “I’d say she’ll be all right, but how can she be? She’ll learn to live with it, but she did something tonight she never thought she’d do. She nearly killed someone.” Jocelyn’s expression was unreadable as he turned back to the painting, yet Cassie noticed the forlorn look deep in his eyes. “I warned you about this,” she said. He glared at her, unable to keep the fury from his voice. “I know all about it. Do you think I wanted this to happen?” “I could blame you,” Cassie sighed, sitting in the chair beside him, “but I know my daughter too well. Once she’s determined, nothing can stop her. Apparently not even you.” “Especially not me, at least until now.” “What do you mean?” “After tonight, Cassie, you got your wish.” He tossed her a strained smile. “She must have told you everything that happened. After she saw me feeding on that man in the alley, she didn’t even want me to touch her. Not that I blame her. Anything she might have felt for me is dead, and it’s better that way.”
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Cassie drew a deep breath. She hesitated before speaking. “That’s not true. She was upset about what she’d done, even though it was self defense. The truth is, upstairs she was only worried about you.” Glancing at his lap, he felt torn between elation and dread. She still cared for him. He’d spent most of his life as far removed from human emotion as possible. Now, after so many years of cultivating a remote persona, he was on the verge of losing himself completely to a young, mortal woman. “Why don’t you talk to her?” Cassie placed an unsure hand on his shoulder. She’d never once touched the vampire and almost thought he’d turn to smoke beneath her fingertips. “It’ll make you both feel better.” He nodded and left the lobby. As the elevator dragged up to Charlie’s room, Jocelyn stood inside, one hand clenching the metal bar at the back of the elevator, his heart beating as quickly as a mortal’s. It had been years since emotions other than hatred and revenge had brimmed so close to the surface of his heart. For a moment he considered returning to his room rather than approaching Charlie. Then the elevator stopped and he stepped out and walked to her room. He tapped without hesitation. “Who is it?” “Jocelyn.” She opened the door and stared at him, her eyes clear though he sensed she’d been crying. She invited him in, closing the door behind him. “How are you feeling?” she asked, restraining the urge to throw herself into his arms. “Fine. You?” “Oh, I’ve been better. I still can’t believe tonight.” “It wouldn’t have happened if you’d done what I told you.” “That’s your problem, Jocelyn.” She glared. “You have no business telling me what to do.” “Someone has to tell you because you certainly can’t decide properly for yourself.” “Excuse me? Do I hear a thank you for helping you in the alley? But of course you’re too cold-hearted to accepted help from anyone.” He glared at her. “Just don’t ever interfere with me again or you’ll learn exactly how cold-hearted I can be.” “You’re just upset because you were afraid I’d be hurt and you couldn’t handle it.” Charlie folded her arms beneath her breasts. “That’s true.” His voice sounded clipped. “The rituals I’ve taught you are very important to the Coven.” Though his words stung, she knew why he spoke them. This time he wouldn’t evade her. This time they would face the truth together, just as she’d promised Sybil. “That’s a lie. It’s because you care for me.”
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“Care for you?” Jocelyn glanced over her, feeling completely naked before her and clothing himself in the only way he knew how. “You’re just some woman I fucked.” “Listen to yourself. It doesn’t even sound like you, but I can’t expect you to know any better. Not with the life you’ve had. Still, you’d think after six centuries you’d stop being such a liar.” “Me? A liar?” He looked genuinely shocked. “How?” “That crap you gave me about how much you hate fighting. You don’t hate it at all. You get off on the pain it causes you.” “That’s not true.” His words were scarcely audible as he turned from her and walked to the window. “It’s true all right.” Her voice rose with emotion as she sensed the power she had over him. “I know you, Jocelyn. You had me fooled at first, just like you fooled my mother and everyone else. Not anymore. You pretend you’re so cool, that you think everything through, but you’re ruled by emotions. You’re just so afraid of them that you choke them off before they can strangle you first.” “Goodnight, Charlie.” He walked to the door, but she yanked his arm. “Leave me alone.” “Tell me you don’t love me and I’ll leave you alone, but look at me and make me believe it!” He stared into her large, thickly-lashed eyes that were so honest and giving in spite of his cruel words. He knew she wouldn’t believe him if he lied, so he said nothing. “While I have you in a rare state of silence, I have a message for you,” she said. “From your little girl.” “No,” he whispered, opening the door in spite of how she clung to his arm. “She said she doesn’t want you to be alone anymore,” Charlie blurted out, “and neither do I!” “What?” He stopped. “She said she was glad to be your daughter.” Charlie watched the struggle of emotions in his eyes. His face suddenly looked even more drawn than before. She longed to reach out to him in comfort, but he had to willingly accept it. “She said that?” “Yes.” Charlie loosened her grip on his arm as he closed the door and leaned against it. “And I’m glad to be your lover.” “Why?” He looked into her eyes and reached out an unsure hand to touch her cheek. She turned slightly and kissed his palm. “Because I know who you really are, and I love you,” she whispered. “Are you going to tell me the truth?”
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He dropped to his knees before her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his cheek to her abdomen. “I love you more than my own life. From the moment I saw you, all I wanted to do was protect you. I’ve failed in that. What’s happened to me? I used to be so focused. I cared for nothing except finishing the task set for me.” She stroked his hair, sinking down into his embrace. “There’s nothing wrong with you. This is how it should be for us.” “It’s dangerous for you. I should have walked away from you,” he murmured, his lips hovering over hers, “but I couldn’t.” She kissed him in answer, pressing her body so close to his that their hearts beat in union. “Stay with me tonight, Jocelyn.” “I had absolutely no intention of leaving.” Without breaking contact, they walked to the bed. For a few silent moments they lay fully clothed in each other’s arms, content with the open admittance of love. After a moment, she lifted her head from his shoulder and gazed into his face. His eyes were closed, his freshly washed hair spread over the white pillowcase. She kissed his bruised cheek so gently that he scarcely felt her lips but rather the tickle of her eyelashes. He turned to her, placing his hand to the back of her neck and drawing her mouth to his. His tongue parted her lips, found hers, and stroked it tenderly. The sensation of tongue on tongue shot directly to Charlie’s clit. Her fingers slid to his shirt and unbuttoned it, her fingers stroking the warm flesh. Touching him was like caressing hot marble, he was so lean and hard, his body indescribably sensual and male. She straddled his hips. Jocelyn gazed at her hands splayed across the smooth expanse of his chest. She kneaded the well-defined pecs and teased his nipples with her thumbs. Leaning forward, she lapped the pit of his throat and raked her teeth gently along the side of his neck. “Charlie,” he murmured, his deft fingers unwinding her hair from its braid and stroking the thick, chestnut tresses as she ran her lips across his chest. Her tongue flicked down his taut abs and circled his navel. Jocelyn lifted his buttocks as Charlie tugged off his pants. She discarded his socks and shoes while he shrugged off his shirt. Charlie stood, her gaze fixed on his as she removed her shirt, revealing a delicate bra of lavender lace. She kicked off her boots and tugged off her jeans as he stared at her with penetrating eyes. Next she unhooked the bra and slipped it off. Her full breasts bounced, the nipples spiked, as she rolled off matching lace panties and tossed them onto the floor by the bed. Jocelyn reached down with a graceful hand, took the panties and held them to his cheek. Her scent clung to the lace, making his cock twitch and swell even more. 167
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Releasing a deep breath of anticipation he stared with glowing eyes as she knelt between his legs and massaged his inner thighs. “Umm,” he groaned. “I’m going to please you, Jocelyn,” she said, her pulse racing with desire and the knowledge that she could overwhelm him with passion if he let her. “This time you won’t stop me.” “I don’t think I could even if I wanted to. You’re the first person in my life who has ever managed to seduce me.” ‘I don’t just want to seduce you, Jocelyn. I love you.” She held his gaze for a long moment before licking the joining of his thighs and hips with almost ticklish gentleness. She lowered her face to his pelvis and rubbed her cheek against the wiry cushion of dark blond hair. Pressing her lips to the root of his cock, she kissed and licked up the length of it. She laved the staff but carefully avoided the head until his cock gleamed with saliva. Charlie’s pulse raced and her clit throbbed. Jocelyn’s thoughts brushed hers and she felt his desire. Her lips tugged gently at his balls before she licked them and took them into her mouth, running her tongue over the soft sac while her index finger prodded his sphincter. Jocelyn’s breathing quickened. His hands moved restlessly through her hair. “Charlie,” he said in a husky whisper. “My beautiful Charlie.” Her mouth hovered over his cockhead, her breath fanning the bulging crown. The tip of her tongue flicked out and licked over the eye. It trailed the underside. Jocelyn groaned, moving his hands from her head and clutching the sheets before he hurt her with his passionate grip. Smiling around his cock, she sucked. Her short, fast, wet motions drove him wild. Jocelyn’s pulse raced as quickly as a mortal’s. His entire body felt awash with intense pleasure, except for his cock that ached with indescribable pleasure/pain. His need for release was so great that he realized he was about to come without the taking of blood. “Charlie, oh God!” he gasped, his head arching back and pressing hard into the pillow. His entire body felt so hot and tense with passion about to explode. It would kill him with pleasure and he could hardly wait to die. Charlie knew she had him. One hand clasped the base of his cock while the other fondled his balls and perineum. I love you, Jocelyn, she thought. He heard her clearly. The physical pleasure combined with the knowledge of her complete and unconditional love pushed him over the edge.
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With a roar of pure passion, repressed for over six centuries, he came. When his vision returned and his breathing slowed, he murmured in wonder, “That’s never happened to me before.” “What?” She raised her face to gaze at him with sated, sleepy eyes. “I’ve never been able to come without taking blood.” “Then I guess I’m special.” “Very special.” He kissed her forehead. Jocelyn grasped Charlie’s wrist and guided her to the mattress beside him. Sitting on his heels, he gazed at her, lovingly stroking her belly. He ran his fingers over her soft mound. As he parted her thighs, he gazed at her glistening folds of pink flesh. Slipping a finger inside her, his recently spent cock stirred to life at the feeling of her hot, wet flesh tight around his finger. She was so ready that her pussy quivered with need. “Jocelyn,” she gasped as he slipped a second finger inside her while his thumb stroked her clit. He bent, kissing her stomach and between her breasts. He rolled his tongue over her nipple before bracing his hands on either side of her head and rubbing his cock against the outer rim of her pussy. As each thick, perfect inch of him slipped inside her with painful slowness, she came, moaning and clinging to him as he drove into her, prolonging the orgasm that had been building while she’d pleasured him. Slipping his cock from her, he reached up to turn out the light. She cuddled against him, her leg draped over his. When he spoke again, she was nearly asleep. “Years ago in Istanbul, the man I was sold to said he loved me.” She raised her head and stared at him in the moonlight shining in through the window. “You didn’t believe it, did you?” “Of course not. But the truth is, he thought he did love me, in his own way.” “That wasn’t love. It was cruelty and perversion.” “Until I met you, I was unable to view sexuality as a part of love at all. With you, everything we share is love. Even the arguments.” “Jocelyn, you are so sweet, smart, sensitive…all your life you’ve hidden it. I can understand why, but I still don’t understand the depth of your hatred for Edrik. I can only think of one thing. What happened to Sybil?” As he sighed, his arm tightened around her. “Do you remember how I told you about the children I might have fathered while in slavery?” “Yes.” “I’ve never been able to forget them. Even after Gamel rescued me, I couldn’t get them out of my mind. We even returned to search for them, but found no trace. At home, I was the last male in my family line. My mother longed for me to marry and have an heir. I felt no need to marry. I’d spent enough years forced into practices I had
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no desire for. Then Gamel changed my mind. He said if I married and had a child, that child would be mine. No one could take it from me. A marriage was arranged for me. I scarcely knew her and truly didn’t care because feelings of love had not simply died in me, but never been born. My wife was only concerned with my family’s wealth. She wanted a child about as much as I wanted a spouse. After Sybil was born, she left with a large sum of money and my best wishes.” “She didn’t want anything to do with her own daughter?” Charlie was aghast. She couldn’t imagine not wanting any child she and Jocelyn created together. “I wanted Sybil enough for both of us. You can’t know how much I loved her, Charlie. She was the only person in the world who loved me for myself. She was my child. I thought no one could take her away, just as Gamel said.” “What happened?” “Edrik.” Jocelyn’s voice dripped with hatred. “Gamel and I had been tracking him for weeks when we realized he was headed back to England. He knew Gamel had been staying in my village and had made friends there, so he destroyed it. When we arrived, it was burned to the ground. Houses were ruined. People lay dead in the streets. Some had taken refuge in a church. The maid who looked after Sybil was Christian and took her there to hide.” Though his voice continued at its usual calm pace, she felt the warmth of his tears dampening her forehead. She tightened her arms around his waist. “They burned the church as well. She was dead long before we got there.” “No wonder you’ve been afraid of her spirit. You think she blamed you.” “She should. I was her father. She depended on me to protect her and I failed, just as I failed you.” “You were trying to protect her. You were after Edrik.” “I should have been with her.” “You can’t blame yourself for what Edrik did. Even if you had been there, you might have died.” “All these years, whenever I saw her spirit, I wanted to talk to her and tell her how sorry I am and how much I love her, but I was a coward. I couldn’t face her hatred and blame.” “She never hated or blamed you.” Charlie couldn’t restrain her own tears. It seemed his entire life had been one folly after another. He’d risen above his misfortunes, but at a terrible price. “Now how do you feel?” “Better. At least now if Edrik and I kill each other, I needn’t fear facing her in the afterlife.” “Is that the only thing you were afraid of?” She shook her head in disbelief. He was the strongest person she’d ever known. “That and losing you.” “Don’t worry. Just like Sybil, I’ll always be with you.” 170
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***** Charlie slept for nearly an hour before waking in Jocelyn’s arms. She raised her head from his shoulder, gazing at his sleeping face. Though he looked better, he obviously hadn’t taken enough of her blood to heal completely. Realizing the uncertainty of their lives and knowing the confrontation with Edrik could come without notice, she understood the importance of Jocelyn being sharp at all times. As she leaned over him, her throat just brushing his lips, she realized with a thrill that she not only wanted him to take her blood because he needed it, but because it excited her. Having him possess her so intimately was somehow more erotic to her than the act of making love itself. Even in sleep, Jocelyn’s vampiric senses heard the frantic pounding of her heart and felt the slight, sweet pressure of her skin against his lips. Instinctively, he buried his hands in her hair as his mouth opened against her throat while his tongue probed the smooth, salty flesh. She closed her eyes, giving herself over to him with complete trust. Even when his needle-sharp teeth pierced her skin, she felt only a moment of pain before waves of orgasmic pleasure swept her. Locked in his embrace, she clung helplessly to him as he rolled her onto her back, possessing her body as her strength flowed into him. He had awakened at the first taste of her blood and drank briefly, scarcely satisfying his lust, before tugging his lips from her neck and stretching out beside her, his newly healed arm draped over her waist. “Why did you do that?” he whispered. “Because I wanted to. In order to destroy Edrik, we need to work together.” “I love you.” “You, too.” She smiled and drifted back to sleep.
***** The stone walls of the temple trembled in the damp jungle heat as Jocelyn forced his way through the unsteady ground, his weak-sighted eyes hindered even more by the thick haze of dirt, dust, and rock powder. Gamel was somewhere deep inside the structure. Jocelyn was determined to find him in spite of his old friend’s order not to follow him and Edrik into the temple. It had taken all six Coven members to restrain Jocelyn when he’d caught sight of the redheaded demon fighting Gamel. Their staffs clashed with enough force to splinter wood as the hollow sound echoed about them. Both were doused in blood, their vampiric eyes glistening red, but Jocelyn had seen weakness in Gamel. Edrik had slashed his arm, leaving him vulnerable to the monster’s greed-driven strength.
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The others seemed confident of Gamel’s skill and ability to imprison the fiend he’d created, but imprisonment wouldn’t satisfy Jocelyn. The monster deserved death—a death as brutal as the one he’d forced upon sweet, innocent Sybil who had scarcely begun to live. Sybil whose body was scorched to bones in a sacred temple besieged by the demon who now pushed Gamel toward death. Jocelyn couldn’t bear to lose another so soon after Sybil. The ground shook. The Coven members dropped Jocelyn onto the tangled vines covering the jungle floor and fled. He ran as well, but toward the temple rather than away from it. He stumbled over a dark heap on the rock-strewn floor and heard a groan. Dropping to his knees, he groped for his mentor. “Where is he?” Jocelyn grasped Gamel’s shoulders. “Trapped. He won’t free himself soon, but when he does, he will use his power to call hell upon Earth.” Gamel’s voice was scarcely audible. Though Jocelyn’s vision was poor, his hands felt sticky with blood. Gamel was near death. Jocelyn fumbled along the rocky ground until he reached the Coven staff. “Tell me where he is. I’ll destroy him.” “He’ll kill you before you could lift the staff to defend yourself.” Gamel grasped Jocelyn with the last of his strength. “Do you want to ensure his death?” “Yes.” “Long ago, I swore I’d never create another like Edrik. I thought I meant I’d never make another vampire, but now I find the only way I can make certain he dies is to create another. An avenger to slay the wicked…” Gamel’s voice faded as his long life waned. He clasped Jocelyn’s arm. “I once told you to trust me, Jocelyn, and I believe you do.” “You’re the only one I do trust.” Jocelyn’s sorrow battled with his fury. His throat felt thick and raw, and not just from the settling dust. “I need you to finish what I began. Will you do that for me? I’ve taught you to be independent, but at times we need each other. This time, we must depend on one another. Will you accept this?” “Yes. You gave me my life, Gamel. I would give it back to you, if I could.” “That’s exactly what I needed to know. I do want your life, and I want to give you a new one…”
***** Wearing Jocelyn’s black robe, her hair still wet from the shower, Charlie stepped out of the bathroom and stood behind him, massaging his bare shoulders. He immediately reached up and took her hands. His dark eyes remained fixed on the television as he watched the morning news. Though her Spanish was not as good as his, she recognized the name Curcio Ferrer. “Curcio was killed last night,” Jocelyn said. “Shot outside his antique shop.” “I’m not surprised. He probably had all enemies and no friends.” 172
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“He did have a daughter.” “Poor girl—for having a father like Curcio, that is.” Jocelyn simultaneously pulled Charlie onto his lap and reached for the phone. She watched curiously as he dialed Brett’s number. “Yes, I know it’s early in the day,” Jocelyn said into the receiver. “Where did you go last night after you left the hotel…I don’t give a damn whether or not it’s any of my business… Oh, so you’ve heard… Of course I didn’t kill him. I thought you might have… Yes, I have reconsidered. We’ll meet you there at seven.” “What was that about?” Charlie asked as he hung up the phone. He glanced at her, tracing her lower lip with his fingertip. “Brett offered to help us with Edrik. I think it’s a good idea.” “But you scarcely know him. Can he be trusted?” “We can trust him. Our kind can sense such things in each other.” He rested his cheek against her shoulder. Though he understood her disbelief regarding his decision, he thought it ironic that she had inspired him to accept Brett’s help. For so long he’d only considered the danger to himself. During the past weeks with Charlie, the wickedness that followed him like a disease had infected her as well. Last night, when she’d been so close to peril at Curcio’s hands, he realized that he alone couldn’t protect her from everything. With Brett’s help, she would be twice as safe. Outside, Cassie and Robert tapped on Charlie’s door. She glanced at Jocelyn, slightly taken back by the realization that her parents knew about their intimacy. “Would you prefer that I get dressed in the bathroom?” he asked. She shook her head. “You don’t need to hide from them. I’m a big girl. Besides, I’ve made my feelings for you clear.” Charlie opened the door and greeted her parents. “We just wanted to make sure you were all right.” Robert looked past Charlie to Jocelyn. “We can see you’re fine,” Cassie said. “So we’ll be on our way. Robert?” “Sure.” Charlie’s father nodded. “But first there’s something we want to discuss. What’s going to happen to Charlie now that she’s given you the ring and learned all you have to teach her? How can she be kept safe from Edrik?” “I’ve already planned for that,” Jocelyn said. “It’s going to be dangerous, but all of us must work to ensure the safety of Charlie and the rituals as well as destroy Edrik.” “We’ll do whatever it takes,” Robert said. “Good. I’m counting on it.” “And we’re counting on you,” Cassie reminded him. “Don’t worry. Edrik will pay for his crimes.” Robert lifted an eyebrow. “Ultimately, we all do.”
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“Yes,” Jocelyn walked to the table and sat, facing the window, his eyes narrowed against the sun’s glare, “we all do.”
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Chapter Sixteen Brett’s home was located just outside of Madrid. Concealed behind high brick walls and flanked by trees as tall as the roof, it was a vast gray stone face looming ominously over the long, paved walkway. As they walked up, the iron gates opened automatically and clinked shut behind them. If not for the moonlight, Charlie would have been unable to see at all, as no lights shone outside. When she looked up to the third floor, she noticed a dim glow in a corner room and somehow knew the light shone for her benefit. She clung to Jocelyn’s arm as he guided her up the front door and rang the bell. “You really can see in the dark,” she commented, shivering in the unusually chilly night. He nodded. “It’s one of the only things I enjoy about being what I am. As a mortal I was terribly nearsighted.” “It must have made fighting difficult when you rode with Gamel.” “Very, but I’ve always had good intuition. Still, it would have been nice to have eyeglasses back then.” She smiled at him, thinking how well glasses would compliment his face. He already looked scholarly. The door opened and Brett, dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt, greeted them. His black hair hung loose down his back, contrasting with his pale blue eyes. At a quick glance, he appeared like a typically attractive young man, but his worldly expression spoke of his past. “Come in.” Brett flipped on the light switch for Charlie. A rainbow of light rippled from the crystal chandelier hanging from the high ceiling above the spiral staircase. They followed him out of the hallway and up steps covered with a gray and white Moroccan carpet. In a third floor parlor, a fire burned in the hearth that took up nearly an entire wall. The floor was covered with an ankle-deep black carpet. Dark walnut bookshelves lined two of the walls. Displayed on the remaining wall was a collection of antique weapons Curcio Ferrer would have killed for. A black sectional couch formed a square in front of the fireplace. Tea was set up atop the glass coffee table. “Make yourself at home.” Brett hopped over the back of the couch and sprawled out, one leg on the floor, the other stretched across the cushions beside him. “It’ll probably be a long night.”
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Jocelyn and Charlie sat side by side across from Brett. In spite of Jocelyn’s ramrod straight posture and passive face, the intensity of his eyes belied his emotions. “Will you relax?” Brett said to him, reaching languidly to pour three cups of tea. “Want some booze in this?” “Did you hire a funeral director to do your decorating?” Jocelyn glanced around the room. “In case no one has ever told you, you’re taking the vampire thing far too seriously.” “Look, Joss, just dig out the critter that’s up your ass and chill. I’m trying to help you, remember?” Charlie glanced from Jocelyn to Brett, amazed at their strange rapport. Beneath the annoyance, they seemed to genuinely like one another. Though they’d just met, they seemed to have a connection inspired by their common link of immortality. “The best place to start would be to tell me who you’re after.” Brett leaned back on the couch, folded his arms across his broad chest, and fixed his gaze on Jocelyn. “His name is Edrik and he’s a maniac,” Jocelyn stated. “Funny I’ve never heard of this maniac. I try to keep up with vampires who need punishment since mortals really have no control over us.” “So you’re an avenger as well?” “Avenger. I like the sound of that.” Brett grinned. “I suppose I am. So let’s hear about this Edrik.” “I want to destroy him.” “Tell me more.” Jocelyn briefly described Edrik’s brutality, imprisonment, and escape. Brett listened without interrupting, his gaze never leaving Jocelyn’s face. Once he’d heard all the details, he took a long sip from his cup and sat back, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I agree with you. This Edrik is no damn good. He belongs dead. I’m glad you came to me, not that you couldn’t have done it yourself.” “Excuse me?” Jocelyn leaned forward. “You want me to kill him, right?” Brett chose a cookie from the glass dish by the teapot. “So you can watch out for Charlie?” “I haven’t waited six centuries to let someone else kill him!” Jocelyn stood. “I’ve come to ask you to help me protect Charlie. That’s all.” “I know how much you want to get this guy, but I’m really better for the job. Not only am I a better fighter, but I’m not emotionally involved.” “Which is the reason why I must destroy him. I was made to kill him.” “That’s wrong.” Brett also stood, his gaze level with Jocelyn’s. “Like I said before, you’re no killer. Believe me, I’ve seen born killers, and it ain’t you.” “That hasn’t stopped me from fighting.”
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“Your whole problem is you’re messed up here.” Brett poked a finger at his temple. “Anybody who busts his own arm to win a fight he didn’t have to get into in the first place has got problems, man.” “My problem is Edrik. I need you to help me protect Charlie. The knowledge I’ve given her is very important.” “Not enough for Edrik to risk his life for. The only thing I can think of that’s important enough for one of us to gamble with our immortality is the knowledge of the ancient ones. The rituals of the Originals… My God. That’s it. That’s why he’s trying to kill her and fight you. Your maker had knowledge of the Originals.” Jocelyn walked to the fireplace and gazed at the flames, leaving Charlie and Brett staring at him in wonder. “Jocelyn, you never told me that,” Charlie said. “Is that true?” “It doesn’t matter,” he replied. “All that matters is that Edrik thinks so.” “You’d better be careful,” Brett said. “If you’re set on killing him, you’d better make sure you do it right, because if he ends up killing you, there’s a good chance he’ll gain access to your thoughts telepathically before you die. With that kind of knowledge, he could inflict irreparable damage on the world.” “The knowledge is what he wants. It’s the lure. That’s why I must be the one to kill him. If you’re here to protect Charlie, I’ll be free to do what I must to ensure his death.” “You mean you’ll be free to give up your life, if you have to.” “Jocelyn…” Charlie stood and grasped his arm. He refused to look at her. “Charlie, you’ve always known there was the chance I could die, that even you could die. Anyone Edrik contacts is in danger of ruination. That’s why he must be destroyed. It’s why I’m asking for your help, Brett. I must know if you’ll give it.” “Of course I will,” Brett replied. “But you have to understand one thing, if I get the chance to kill Edrik, I’m going to take it.” “I know that,” Jocelyn said. “And I suppose it doesn’t really matter who kills him as long as he’s dead.” “So now it’s just a matter of him finding us,” Charlie said. “Because you don’t have to chase him, do you, Jocelyn? When we first met, you were trying to avoid him to get to me, weren’t you?” Jocelyn nodded. “He wants our knowledge. As I said before, it doesn’t matter if you know the rituals or not, Charlie. He thinks you do, so you’re in danger.” “Do you think he’s here in Spain right now?” Charlie wrapped her arms around herself, feeling cold in spite of the warmth of the fire. “Yes,” Jocelyn whispered. “I’m sure of it. It’s only a matter of time before we meet. I’m long past ready.” “I think the safest place for you to stay is this house,” Brett said. “There are plenty of rooms upstairs. You and your parents can move in until this is over.”
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“Thank you.” Charlie held Brett’s gaze. He nodded. “We should pick up your parents now.” The three drove to the hotel where Charlie and Jocelyn gathered their belongings and left a message for her parents stating she’d meet them later and explain their new plans. Back at Brett’s house, Charlie settled into one of the guest rooms while Brett asked Jocelyn to join him outside. Brett’s circular yard was fenced off by tall stone gates and an inner wall of trees. The entire yard was empty except for a bare stone altar in the very center. “Religious, are you?” Jocelyn circled the altar, keeping a respectful distance. “Surprised?” Jocelyn shook his head. “How can we not be? We’re of the same legends as Gods and devils.” “I brought you out here because I wanted to talk to you alone.” “So talk.” Jocelyn glanced at him. “You’re becoming more human. You’ve been taking most of your blood from Charlie lately, haven’t you?” “That’s none of your business.” “Look, I don’t give a damn about who you’re sleeping with. I just want to make sure you’re aware of your vulnerability. You know that if we take often from a certain person or type of person, we tend to take on their characteristics. Charlie is a good, decent woman. She’d never willingly hurt anybody. She’s much like you probably were before all the shit Edrik put you through.” “You know nothing about me.” “I know enough to see the only hatred you have in you is for Edrik, even though you probably have had reason to hate plenty of people. I’m not saying you won’t be able to kill him. After all, you’ve had years of practice while he’s been imprisoned, but it takes more than skill to win a fight. From what you’ve told me about Edrik, he doesn’t feel anything for anybody but himself. You’re a feeler. No matter how much you study fighting, no matter how much you try, you can’t change the core of who you are.” “I don’t have to change who I am to kill Edrik. All I have to do is remember what he took from me.” “I’m on your side.” Brett held up his hands in a defensive gesture. “And I’m not stupid enough to underestimate you. You beat me in a fight when you shouldn’t have been able to. All I’m saying is the part of you that let you beat me is the same part that can make you lose to Edrik. Someone like you has to make sure your emotions aren’t used against you.” “I’ve had six hundred years to deal with my emotions. If I had let them get the better of me, I’d have died a mortal death long before I met Gamel.”
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“I don’t know.” Brett shrugged. “You can sweep ashes under a carpet, but that won’t stop the fire from smoldering. Enough said. How about a workout? Looks like we’ll both be needing the practice.” “Only if you promise to go easy on me,” Jocelyn mocked. “Has anyone ever told you about your attitude problem?” “Take a number.”
***** In the guest room, Charlie unpacked her and Jocelyn’s few belongings. They had left for Spain so quickly that they hadn’t brought much with them. Her clothes weren’t of interest to her. She lingered over Jocelyn’s, touching each piece before placing it in the cedar-lined dresser drawers. She slipped his black shirt over her cotton turtleneck and inhaled the woodsy scent of his cologne. Closing her eyes, she imagined the touch of his hand, the brush of his lips, and the strength of his embrace. Imagining him wasn’t enough. She wanted to be with him for as long as she could before Edrik once again drove them apart. She walked down the spiral staircase, her boots soundless on the carpet. As she searched the house, she heard fighting outside. In the kitchen, she glanced out the sliding glass door leading to the backyard. Jocelyn and Brett fought with staffs. Though they attacked each other with a ferocity that should have been frightening, Charlie was grateful. Jocelyn needed an opponent who could truly challenge him before he faced Edrik. As in Curcio’s ring, he held his own with Brett, though the dark-haired vampire pressed his advantage of sheer physical power. She noticed, however, that unlike hand fighting, Jocelyn’s skill with a staff was equal to Brett’s. Even after what seemed like endless trading of blows, neither was able to defeat the other. Finally, they called a truce and walked to the house. Charlie stepped aside as they passed through the door. “Who taught you how to fight with a staff?” Brett asked, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair before pouring two glasses of water. He handed one to Jocelyn. “A woman who lived alone in the mountains of China.” “I’m assuming she wasn’t mortal. Most of your strikes go right for the heart, as if you’ve been taught to use the staff on vampires alone.” “No. She wasn’t mortal.” “Is she still alive?” Charlie asked, hoping to sound more interested than jealous, however she couldn’t help wondering about any woman from Jocelyn’s past.
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“When I last saw her in passing about a hundred years ago, she was. She trained me in the 16th century.” “I should look her up someday,” Brett said. “Anyway, I’m going out. I need something a little stronger than water. Want to go hunting, Joss?” “No.” “Suit yourself.” Brett finished the last swallow in his glass then placed it in the sink. “I’ll be back. Make yourselves comfortable. Mi casa es su casa.” “Thank you,” Charlie said, but Brett was already out the front door. She turned to Jocelyn who stared at his half-empty water glass. “All alone in this big house. What should we do?” “Well I need a shower, but after that…” A minx-like smile touched her lips as she kissed him. “Let’s go upstairs and find out if the bathrooms are as big as the rest of this place.” A half smile on his lips, he followed her up the steps and through their guest room to an enormous adjoining bathroom. Black tile gleamed on the ceiling, walls, and floor. Only the tub and sink were white. Thick black scatter rugs were strewn across the floor in front of the deep tub lined with lavender-scented candles. “Why am I not surprised?” Jocelyn commented. “The man is in love with his own image of immortality.” “I guess you can’t blame him for playing it up.” Charlie turned on the water, watching steam rise from the faucet. She took a match from a box on the edge of the sink and lit the candles. “There’s something incredibly sexy about vampires.” “In general, or are some of us sexier than others?” He unbuttoned his shirt and turned off the lights. When he looked back at her, she’d discarded her clothes and sat on the edge of the tub, her bare feet with their red-painted toenails brushing the edge of a black rug. She gazed at him with lust in her eyes. Jocelyn’s heartbeat quickened. “I haven’t seen anyone, vampire or mortal, as sexy as you.” She stood and kissed him, slipping her arms around his neck, her breasts pressed to his hot, sweat-slicked chest as her tongue stroked his. Closing his eyes, Jocelyn held her tightly, never wanting to part from her but knowing that all too soon they might be parted forever. “Tub’s almost full,” she whispered. Kissing the hollow of his throat, she felt it pulse against her lips. She slid his shirt down his shoulders, licking and kissing his chest and abs. Her tongue circled his naval as she tossed the shirt aside. He stepped away long enough to remove his socks, shoes, and pants. Grinning, Charlie slapped his tight bottom as he stepped toward the tub.
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He grasped her, nuzzling her neck and dragging her into the water. For a long moment, they lay in the warmth of the tub, their limbs entwined as they enjoyed the scent of the candles and soap and the comfort of their locked bodies. “I love you, Jocelyn,” she said, rubbing her cheek against his chest. “I know you have to destroy Edrik, but part of me just wants to run away with you so we can be together forever.” “Running? Always looking over our shoulders for fear he’ll be there, knowing that I could have stopped the pain and destruction he’s causing as long as he’s alive and free? Charlie, as much as I love you, there’s no other way for me. I was made to destroy him. I will not rest until he’s dead.” “I know, but I can fantasize, can’t I?” “I’m sorry you’ve been hurt so much by all this. I’m sorry that I’ve given in to my feelings for you and that I’ve been so selfish. I’ve needed you, Charlie, and I love you. I’ve enjoyed every moment we’ve spent together.” “So? Who says you’re not supposed to fall in love? I’m glad you feel that way about me, but I don’t want to discuss anything anymore. Just make love to me, Jocelyn. Hold me in your arms and let me feel how much you love me, because no matter how this turns out, someday that’s all I’ll have of you are these memories. I want them. As many as I can get in whatever time we have.” “Charlie,” he whispered against her mouth, cupping a hand behind her head. She closed her eyes, awaiting his kiss. Instead he brushed his cheek against hers and guided her in front of him. Settling between his bent knees, she glanced at him over her shoulder. He’d reached for a bottle of shampoo on the edge of the tub. The scent of coconut filled the room when he poured it into his hands and rubbed them together, warming them. Charlie ducked her head, soaking it with water, then leaned back as he massaged the shampoo into her scalp. She never would have imagined having her hair shampooed to be an erotic experience, but she’d never had it washed by a handsome vampire while seated between his legs in a tub of hot water. As he rubbed and caressed, his cock brushed and pressed her back. She bent her head forward as his thumbs massaged her nape. His tongue flicked over the top of her spine and tickled the hollow between her neck and shoulder. “Jocelyn.” She turned to him, her expression filled with desire before she ducked under the water. Beneath, she nuzzled his cock and caressed his balls. Jocelyn sighed with pleasure as he rinsed shampoo from her hair while she fondled him. Finally she lifted her head, gasping and laughing. “Come here.” He tugged her slick body to his. She lifted her legs over his waist and grasped his cock, guiding it into her pussy while he supported her back.
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For a moment they remained still, their bodies joined and gazes locked. Charlie took his face in her hands and kissed him. She took his lower lip between her teeth and bit gently. With the help of his strong hands and steely arms, she rocked and writhed, controlling their passion. Why can’t it be like this forever, she thought. No matter what, we are eternally joined, Charlie. You’re part of my spirit, now. So are you. I love you, Jocelyn. I love you so much. She panted, clinging to his neck, her water-slicked breasts flattened against his chest, the spikiness of her nipples arousing him as much as her velvet pussy pulsing and squeezing his cock. Growling with desire, Jocelyn’s hips jerked and he came, lapping her neck, his fingertips pressing up the length of her spine.
***** While Jocelyn slept beside Charlie in the oversized guestroom bed covered in black satin sheets, she was unable to rest. She’d told herself that she could accept Jocelyn’s role in the Coven and understood the possibility that he might be killed. Still, somewhere in the back of her mind she’d imagined them marrying, having children, and spending the rest of their lives together. The thought of him not being part of her life was almost unbearable. She closed her eyes, resting her cheek against his chest as she listened to the slow, steady rhythm of his heart. She took his hand, entwining her fingers with his, and finally began drifting off. In that pleasant state between wakefulness and sleep, she visualized so clearly the breezy field where she’d met Sybil. Just about ready to give herself over completely to the sun-warmed grass and the pleasant scent of wildflowers, a distraught moan from Jocelyn nudged her back to reality. His fingers gripped her painfully. His pulse raced beneath her cheek before he shoved her away. “Jocelyn!” She shook him, screaming as he pinned her to the bed, his hands bruising her wrists. “No! Never again!” he bellowed. “Jocelyn, wake up!” She struggled beneath him. His eyes opened and took a moment to focus. “Charlie, my God, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He pulled her into his arms. “It’s all right,” she said, a bit unsteady. “What were you dreaming?”
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“I can’t…” He buried his face in her hair, unable to tell her the details of the perversions he’d suffered. For years he’d carried the memories of his captivity, but only since he and Charlie had become lovers had these detailed nightmares plagued him. Tonight’s dream had been worse than the others. This time the rapist wasn’t his old master, but Edrik who forced obscenities upon him in the cabin of a rancid-smelling slave ship while on the shore Sybil and Charlie, their faces charred and eyes streaming bloody tears, screamed for him through the black and red flames of a burning church. “You’ll feel better if you tell me.” She caressed his back. “I doubt it.” He lay down with her still in his arms. As he fell back to sleep, he was certain he caught the scent of smoke and salt air.
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Chapter Seventeen Brett returned around eleven o’clock as Jocelyn and Charlie talked over tea in the kitchen. Jocelyn felt him even as he approached the house. As he entered the room, he seemed to glow with vampiric power. The sudden desire to feel the same strength stung Jocelyn. The emotional link shared by a mortal and a vampire when blood was freely offered was incomparable, yet the high from the hunt and stealing the blood of the wicked was just as transcendental. Brett’s gaze met Jocelyn’s. Though he didn’t speak, Jocelyn clearly heard him ask, You want it, don’t you? Ignoring the implication, Jocelyn said, “We were just going back to the hotel to pick up Charlie’s parents. Care to join us?” During the drive, Charlie and Brett made pleasant conversation, as he was open about almost everything. Unlike Jocelyn, Brett wasn’t guarded and spoke freely of his memories, both pleasant and painful. He’d been involved in wars from ancient times up through the present, intermingling his fighting skill with those of healing. He had even earned a Harvard medical degree. “How can you want to both fight and heal?” Charlie asked. “I always thought it had to be one or the other.” “I was a born fighter. For a long time I didn’t think about why. It was just something I did without question. For centuries I chose to fight only for the strongest leaders. I thought nothing was more important than winning. I learned the hard way that sometimes you might win but still be the loser. Most often the suffering caused by fighting is useless, but sometimes you need to stand up for what you believe in. You need to battle oppression. There will always be evildoers. There will always be people like Edrik. I’ve learned to choose my causes carefully. Even so, when I see suffering, I wonder if there is ever a really good enough reason to fight.” “So why don’t you stop?” Jocelyn said flatly, staring out the window. Brett glanced at him in the rearview mirror. “Funny you should say that when you’ve hated the same guy for six hundred years.” “I’m not complaining about it.” “Neither am I,” Brett said. “I’m just saying the world is a strange place. Everybody needs a purpose. I’ve chosen to use my skills to defend those who need it. Other than wanting to shove a spear up Edrik’s ass, what’s your passion, Jocelyn?” “Doesn’t matter.” “If you lost the attitude, you’d make a great teacher. You have a nice speaking voice, calm but not boring, and your diction is perfect. Your Spanish isn’t bad, either.” 184
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Brett shrugged when Jocelyn didn’t bother replying. Charlie glanced at her lover in concern. Since he’d awakened from the nightmare earlier, he seemed more distracted than usual. She wished he’d confide in her. His sleep was often disturbed by unpleasant dreams, but of late his unconscious reactions had become more violent. She reached for his hand. He glanced at her with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Here we are.” Brett parked in front of the hotel. The three walked to the desk. Charlie’s parents still hadn’t returned, but a message had been left for Jocelyn. He ripped open the envelope and slipped out the note written in burgundy ink. “Jocelyn, what is it?” Charlie peered over his shoulder at the message. He crumpled it in his fist and cursed. “Come on,” Jocelyn said, walking out of the lobby. “Let me guess,” Brett said as they settled in the car, “the note was from our friend Edrik.” “He has Charlie’s parents.” “What?” Charlie shouted. “My God, they’re probably dead!” “They’re not dead,” Jocelyn reassured her. “He knows if he kills them, he’ll have no bait for me. He wants me to meet him at Curcio’s warehouse.” “Well that explains who killed Curcio,” Brett commented as he drove away from the curb. “When does he want to meet you?” “Midnight.” “Oh great. That gives us a whole half hour to plan.” “He wants me to meet him alone.” “I figured. He probably took all of Curcio’s degenerate guards under his control and they’ll jump you before you can even look at Edrik. Not only that, he thinks Charlie will be alone and easy game. He’s not counting on me. I know that warehouse as well as my own home. We can be in and out before he realizes we’re even there. First things first, however. Joss, you need blood.” “Take mine,” Charlie said. “No.” Brett glanced at her. “I admire your relationship, but it’s not going to work tonight. You know I’m right, Joss.” “Let’s just get on with it,” Jocelyn said. Though Charlie wanted to protest when they drove her back to Brett’s home and instructed her to remain locked inside, she realized they knew better than she did how to destroy Edrik and keep her parents alive. “I can’t believe this is happening,” she said as Jocelyn held her one last time while Brett waited in the car. “I know it’s hard to face, but I swear I’ll do whatever it takes to help your parents.” “I know.” She took his face in her hands and kissed him. “Be safe, Jocelyn.” 185
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“Don’t forget what I’ve taught you. Pass it on to the rest of the Coven when the time is right.” “You’re coming back,” she stated. “Maybe. It doesn’t matter. Edrik will be destroyed.” He reached inside the pocket of his coat and pulled out the dark velvet ring box Charlie recognized from his house in New England. He handed it to her. “I want you to have this,” he said. “It’s the most important one.” “It’s the one you wouldn’t let me see.” “I couldn’t. Not then. Goodbye, Charlie.” She caught him before he reached the door and embraced him as tightly as she could. “I love you, Jocelyn.” He held her close, his mouth desperately searching hers before he pulled away and left the house without looking back, the platinum-tipped staff clutched in his fist. No sooner had Jocelyn slipped into the car when Brett sped off. “Don’t worry about her,” Brett said as he raced through the secluded streets. “Edrik will have no idea where she is. She’s safe as long as she doesn’t invite him in. We’ll have her parents rescued and Edrik destroyed before you know it. Then you and she can be all mushy again.” Jocelyn ignored him as he stared out the window, his thoughts on Charlie. Until meeting her, he’d been completely confident about confronting Edrik. Now he was plagued by a feeling of doom. No one else, least of all Charlie and her parents, should have been a consideration. He’d allowed emotions to distract him from his duty and was now too involved to reverse the damage. He’d changed, yet he needed to fulfill his obligation to Gamel, Sybil, and the rest of humanity. Brett jammed on the brakes just outside a dim alley. There a man dressed in dirty leather and reeking of tobacco and old sweat pinned a terrified woman to a graffitistained wall. He pressed a knife to her throat with one hand while his other tore off her clothes. “Hurry.” Brett shoved Jocelyn out of the car. “It’s quarter to twelve.” In less than half a minute, Jocelyn had freed the woman and quenched his desperate thirst on the rapist’s blood. In the meantime, Brett erased the woman’s memories and left her, unconscious, on the steps of an apartment building. Brett watched Jocelyn, feeling the vampire rise in his companion as the mortal faded. Jocelyn tore his mouth from the man and drew a gasping breath. Lifting his face to the cloudy sky, he closed his eyes in a combination of ecstasy and revulsion. “What’s the matter with you?” Brett demanded when Jocelyn headed for the car. “You need more to be at your full potential. Just kill the son-of-a-bitch and get it over with!” “I won’t kill anyone.” Jocelyn glanced at Brett. “Not in that way.”
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“That’s your whole problem.” Brett grasped the front of Jocelyn’s shirt and snarled. “That’s why I should be the one to destroy Edrik. I don’t give a shit about feelings. At least not when it comes to scum like that!” “It’s got nothing to do with feelings for the likes of him, but with me becoming that which I hate. I don’t need to become Edrik to destroy him. I’ve learned that the hard way, so don’t push me, Brett!” Jocelyn shoved the other vampire hard enough in the chest to knock him into the side of the building. “If you don’t want to help me then go back home and watch Charlie.” “It’s your life.” Brett shrugged, slipping into the driver’s seat. “If you want to throw it away, it’s your problem. I’m already involved, so let’s just finish it.” “Then drive.” They glared at each other for a second before Brett tore down the street, leaving the unconscious mortals behind them. They parked several blocks from Curcio’s warehouse and approached silently, listening and watching for any sign of Edrik or the mortal followers he had surely recruited. Rather than approaching through the warehouse itself, they climbed the fire escape of an abandoned building beside it and entered through a broken fifth floor window. They climbed to the roof. “I don’t like this,” Jocelyn murmured. “It’s far too quiet. Too solitary.” “I know. I can’t sense any vampire.” “Edrik is difficult to feel. He’s an expert of mind-control and has had centuries of solitude in which to perfect his skills. He can make you think you can’t smell him.” “I know all about that trick. Doesn’t work on me. There’s no vampire here.” Once on the roof, they leapt from the top of the building to the roof of the warehouse. “There are mortals here,” Brett said. “Too bad we don’t know how many,” Jocelyn commented. “I know a born vampire who could tell you how many and their last six lovers just by scent alone. I would have called him if I thought you wouldn’t chew my head off for involving another.” “Involving you was bad enough,” Jocelyn muttered. “Another thing that’s bothering me is Charlie’s father. He’s a powerful telepath, yet he hasn’t tried contacting me.” “Edrik probably has him unconscious.” “I hope that’s all,” Jocelyn said. He hadn’t lied when he’d told Charlie that Edrik needed her parents as a lure, but he certainly could kill one and keep the other as bait.
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***** Charlie watched out the hall window until Brett’s car disappeared around a corner. She walked to the upstairs living room, the velvet ring box clutched in her hand. She lit the array of taper candles on the coffee table and sat on the couch. Tucking her feet up under her, she opened the box. Inside was a circular portrait ring of antique gold. The picture was of Jocelyn holding Sybil. In spite of the sadness she felt, Charlie smiled at the picture. Seeing them so close, Charlie noticed how alike they looked. Sybil wore a cherubic half-smile and Jocelyn appeared more content than she’d ever seen him. In the presence of his beloved child, the haunted look that dominated his expression seemed to fade like the remnants of a nightmare. By the size of the ring, she guessed it had been made for Sybil to wear when she reached adulthood. “I’m sorry, Sybil,” Charlie whispered. “You wouldn’t want him to die for revenge, but Edrik must be destroyed. Anyone who could murder a child isn’t fit to live.” She replaced the ring in the box and placed it on the coffee table, staring at the portrait in the flickering candlelight. “Charlie! Come to the window! I’ve got a surprise for you!” Charlie’s entire body stiffened with terror at the sound of that deep, sarcastic brogue. Though she’d only heard Edrik’s voice a few times, it was burned forever in her memory. “Mum and Dad have come to visit, Charlie! Come and say hello!” On trembling legs she crept along the wall to look out the window without being detected. Three vans with tinted windows stood in the driveway. Apparently Edrik had disarmed the gate and forced it open. Her father lay on the ground between two of the trucks, but Cassie was conscious and struggling in Edrik’s violent embrace. The monster’s tongue snaked out to taste Cassie’s neck. She flinched in disgust. “Curcio was kind enough to tell me about Brett before he died. I knew he had to be one of us, since Jocelyn was scarcely able to defeat him. He’s fallen so madly in love with you that he needed someone to protect you, but Brett isn’t here. By now he’s dead and Jocelyn in chains.” “Charlie, don’t come out here!” Cassie screamed but was silenced by the back of Edrik’s hand across her face. She fell to her knees but Edrik dragged her up by her hair. Fury overcame Charlie. First her friend, now her mother was being brutalized by the monster. Edrik must have prepared a careful trap for Jocelyn but she didn’t believe for a moment it had worked. He’d be back, but for now it was up to her. Choosing a staff from Brett’s collection, she walked down the steps and to the hallway. “Let my parents go and I’ll come out!” “Charlie, no!” Cassie shrieked. Edrik threw back his head and laughed, his red hair glowing like blood in the moonlight. 188
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“You’ll have to come get them, love!” he said. Before flinging open the door, Charlie clearly remembered Jocelyn warning her not to leave the house for anything. Black garbed men surrounded her as soon as she stepped outside. They attempted to take her weapon, but she successfully repelled them. Fighting with precision and ferocity she’d learned from Jocelyn, she felt the impact of each blow as it struck flesh, leaving bodies at her feet as she made her way toward Edrik. The monster flung Cassie aside and watched Charlie with a combination of amusement and respect. He saw the hatred in her eyes as she jabbed the staff into the men’s solar plexus with enough force to send them sprawling to their knees before the weapon cracked across the backs of their heads. Just before she reached him, the van doors opened and more of Edrik’s minions surrounded her, overcoming her by number alone. As she was thrown into one of the vans, she heard her mother’s screams. The truck sped out of the driveway, lurching over a bump that she knew to be her father’s body. In spite of her struggling, she was finally tied up and rolled to the back of the van where she lay, silent tears stinging her eyes. She wasn’t sure if Edrik had left Cassie alive or if Robert had survived the van’s wheels. No matter what happens to me, I hope you kill him, Jocelyn. Make him pay for everything he’s ever done. I hope you rip out the bastard’s rotten heart.
***** Jocelyn and Brett easily broke the rusted lock on the door leading from the roof of Curcio’s warehouse. They walked silently down the metal staircase. The scent and feel of mortals was strong around them, yet they remained alone as they slunk through the vast, empty corridor. “I don’t like this,” Brett muttered. To their surprise, they made it to Curcio’s ring without confrontation. As they approached the doors, they noticed a message written in dried blood. Jocelyn’s entire body tensed with fury as Brett read aloud, “Ha. Ha. Ha.” “Damn—” A gun clicked behind them and both men turned to one of Curcio’s guards. Brett and Jocelyn dove through the doors, a bullet striking Jocelyn’s shoulder and another piercing Brett’s ribs. Inside the warehouse, ten more guards awaited them, all armed. Jocelyn grasped one of them by the waist and used him as a shield against the storm of bullets as he and Brett moved backwards out of the loading dock.
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Outside, Jocelyn dumped the body in front of the door to hold back the others while Brett staggered to the elevator and hit the “up” button. Just as Edrik’s minions burst through the door, the elevator dragged slowly upward. “We’ve got to make it jam!” Brett struck the buttons. “Come on, damn it! Stop!” As if by the will of the vampires alone, the elevator stopped between floors. Jocelyn pushed open the trap door in the ceiling. He and Brett climbed out. Bleeding profusely, they looked up and saw they were halfway to the top of the warehouse. “Let’s go!” Jocelyn clasped the cable and climbed upward. “That bastard has Charlie. I never should have left her alone. Never!” “It’s just as much my fault. Who knew Curcio would guess you and I teamed up?” “For someone who never underestimates anybody, you’ve been wrong on most counts.” “I need blood. My side is killing me. You’re bleeding all over my face. If your blood could help me, it wouldn’t be so bad. How come I ended up below?” “Just shut up, Brett! We don’t have time for this!” “We need a plan. When we get up there, you just worry about getting away. I’ll hold them off for as long as possible. Charlie needs you more than I do. I’ll catch up as soon as I can.” Jocelyn nodded, wincing, his shoulder aching mercilessly each time he pulled his body weight upward. The cables were frustratingly slippery. “Joss!” “What?” “Climb faster!” “I’m going as fast as I—” Jocelyn suddenly realized the reason for Brett’s distress. The elevator had begun moving upward. He forgot the pain in his shoulder as he rushed to reach the top before the elevator crushed them. They dragged themselves into the hallway, ready to meet the two waiting guards. Jocelyn knocked the gun from the closest one before he could fire and turned him into the onslaught of bullets from the other. His captive struggled as bullets ripped his flesh. Jocelyn tossed him into the second thug. After disarming the second, he stared into his eyes. Immediately the man fell under the vampire’s power. “What the hell are you doing?” Brett demanded as he tried holding the door to the stairwell closed against the guards pounding on the opposite side. The elevator bell chimed. “Getting answers,” Jocelyn said. “Hurry!” Jocelyn broke the spell and left the guard unconscious. Taking a gun in each hand, he waited for the elevator door to open then fire both weapons simultaneously. Inside,
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some of the guards returned fire, but most scrambled aside, trying to avoid the bullets and hit the “close door” button. Brett laughed as he watched the bellowing mortals amidst the storm of bullets and blood. Throwing down the empty guns, Jocelyn raced for the roof, Brett close behind him. They jumped to the neighboring building and hurried to the car just as Edrik’s minions rushed onto the rooftop. “I was wrong.” Brett glanced at Jocelyn. “You’ve got balls like a Brahman bull. So what did you learn from the guard?” “Only that he and the others are under Edrik’s power,” Jocelyn said as they hurried to Brett’s car. “What do you think he did with Charlie?” “He wants to learn the rituals from her, but it will do him no good.” “Do you think he’ll kill her?” “Not until he’s got me.” “I’m looking forward to killing this guy.” Brett winced, pressing a hand to his injured side. “After I get some blood.” “Let me off here,” Jocelyn said, taking Brett’s raincoat from the back seat. “But what about—” “As soon as you’re ready, arm yourself and get back to the warehouse. That’s where he’s taking Charlie.” “How can you be sure?” “Because if he can’t get what he wants from her, he’ll need me and he wants to make sure I can find him.” “Jocelyn! Joss!” Brett shouted out the window at Jocelyn’s retreating back. “Arm myself with what, damn it!”
***** Jocelyn approached a crowded club. As he heard the rhythm of music combined with the faint murmuring of mortal voices, he hid his staff in the alley behind the club then proceeded to the door. After taking a single look into his vampiric eyes, security allowed him to pass unhindered. Blood soaked his clothes beneath Brett’s black raincoat. He knew it was only a matter of time before someone noticed his condition. Placing aside his fear for Charlie, he waded through the mass of warm, throbbing mortal flesh. Dim light glinted off his searching eyes. Then he sensed her. Wicked, loathing, almost as lost to humanity as he was, she used poison to lure children to their deaths.
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She saw the lithe, pale stranger approaching her and thought he was as captivating as a character in one of the low-rate pornographic action/thrillers she and her boyfriend watched on weekends. His eyes so dark, terrifying, and alluring, drew her closer until he spun her in his embrace, his sensual body moving to the music’s rhythm. His hands felt cold slipping up her throat. No longer in control of her will but lost to an unearthly desire more intense than anything she’d ever experienced, she tilted her head backward as his teeth pierced her throat. Enveloped in steely arms, pressed to a body so slender and hard, she felt consumed by him. Jocelyn drank deeply of the woman’s blood, detecting a trace of drugs and alcohol, but mostly tasting her evil that tempted her to inflict damage on others. He drew upon that wickedness so it fired his hatred and cruelty. Charlie had resurrected the man in him, but this woman brought forth the vampire. As much as he desired what Charlie gave him, the vampire was needed to destroy Edrik. He stopped when the woman swayed against him, nearly unconscious from blood loss, and left her sleeping with her head on one of the round tables off to a far corner of the room. Wiping his lips on the back of his hand, Jocelyn searched the club. To his increased senses, the heat of the mortals was like a blanket on a freezing winter morning. The music was too loud, the rush of mortal blood inspired sinful, irresistible desire. He circled the room and found three others whose dark urges ranged from torture to murder. He quenched his raging thirst on their blood, taking more than he had in centuries, feeling powerful as a god as their blood sped through his veins like fire consuming a trail of gasoline. He could see everything, hear everything, yet the gentle feelings which ruled him of late were now a distant memory. All he felt was fury and a need for revenge. He was the newly born demon created upon Gamel’s death. He was the executioner, the warrior, the monster who longed to cleanse his fangs with the flesh of another monster. Dropping his last victim on the dance floor to be trampled by spiked heels and leather boots, Jocelyn fled toward a confrontation six hundred years in waiting.
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Chapter Eighteen Charlie awoke dazed, her arms and feet numb beneath the rough rope binding her hands and ankles almost too tightly. She lay on her side in the ring at Curcio’s warehouse, alone in the dimness. Squinting toward the office, she noticed a dark figure standing in the window. Edrik’s gaze fixed on her and she felt sick, not only from the beating, drugs, and mind probing Edrik had used in a failed attempt to extract what she’d learned from Jocelyn, but from fear of the confrontation to come. When Edrik realized she didn’t know most of the rituals of the Original vampires, he’d knocked her unconscious and taken her to the warehouse. “What lovely bait you make,” he called to her. “Once this is over, I’ll enjoy finally tasting of you.” “You’re a coward! A fucking wimp. The only reason you took me is because you know Jocelyn will kill you. He’ll tear your heart out!” “Such faith in your lover, but you’re not far from the truth. I know the sort of monster he truly is.” “You’ve got the balls to call somebody else a monster?” “I’ve made it my duty to research my enemy. What I know about him would make you wince, my dear. No, unlike most others, I don’t underestimate Jocelyn.” “You’re afraid of him?” Charlie said in wonder. “Not afraid, just wary. However you have given me the perfect weapon with which to fight him.” Edrik held up his hand, the amethyst ring Jocelyn had given to Charlie, the one containing the poison deadly to vampires, gleamed on his pinky. “Unfortunately, to extract the information I need, I’ll have to be closer to Jocelyn than I care to be. Now I feel ever-so-much safer.” Charlie struggled to her knees so her face would no longer be pressed against the bloodstained mat. “Speaking of Jocelyn, he and his friend Brett made a fine mess out of Curcio’s guards. Pity the blood was cold by the time I got to it. I do have more guards waiting, however, to help me destroy Jocelyn as soon as I’m finished learning what I need to know--” Edrik paused, sniffing the air, “or maybe not.” Charlie’s gaze turned to the warehouse doors as Brett, covered in more equipment than a Navy Seal, burst inside. He carried a gun in his hand, a dagger on his hip and a sword on his back. Keeping his gaze fixed on Edrik, he strode to Charlie and cut her bonds. Rubbing her wrists, she asked, “Where’s Jocelyn?”
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“Good question. He told me to be here. Lucky for him I got rid of the guards— Damn!” Brett’s gun flew across the floor and he staggered beneath the force of the arrow fired by Edrik. The point had pierced his gun arm. “Charlie, get out of here!” Brett shoved her toward the door, but her feet were so numb that she stumbled clumsily, unable to avoid Edrik who leapt from the office window. With a cat’s grace, he landed on his feet, a platinum-tipped staff in his hand. Drawing his sword with his good hand, Brett lunged at Edrik. Already weakness spread through him. Edrik smiled, exposing his teeth. “I treated the arrowhead with the poison so graciously given by Charlie. Haven’t you heard of it? Perhaps not, as the root that yields it has been extinct for centuries. You’ll be quite dead within the hour.” “If I’m going to die, I’m taking you with me!” Brett attacked Edrik in spite of his dizziness and blurred vision. Edrik successfully blocked each blow, though even in his damaged state, Brett was too skilled for Edrik to land a blow. Charlie crawled toward Brett’s fallen gun, her bruised ribs rivaling the pain in her feet as blood finally returned to them. She nearly had it in her grasp when Edrik leapt backwards, and landed with his heel on her hand. She screamed, certain he’d broken bones. He flashed a smile and chimed, “Nice try, love, but I’ve had about enough of you. I’ll kill you and prepare my teeth for Jocelyn.” “Too late.” Edrik’s gaze shot to the office where Jocelyn stood, his blond hair stark against his black clothes, the Coven staff gripped in his hand. Using his teacher’s spell, he’d disguised his scent from Edrik. Had the bastard thought he was the only one capable of such a trick? Edrik grinned, a strange contrast to Brett and Charlie’s disbelief. Other than his face and form, it was a Jocelyn neither of them recognized. His eyes glowed vampiric red and he emanated fiendish power that mocked any suspicions they once had about the gentleness of his nature. Even Charlie felt momentarily frightened but oddly captivated by this new side of her lover. “I’m the one who has what you want, Edrik,” Jocelyn taunted. “So come get it.” Kicking Charlie into Brett, Edrik made his way toward Jocelyn. “Brett!” Jocelyn called, tossing a leather pouch to his friend who was almost too blurry-eyed to catch it. “Antidote. Take Charlie and go.” Charlie and Brett didn’t hesitate before running for the door. Glancing over her shoulder one last time before the doors closed behind her, Charlie saw Jocelyn leap from the office and land in front of Edrik. “Good luck, my love,” she whispered before Brett hurried her out of the building toward his car parked several blocks away.
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Back in the ring, Jocelyn and Edrik circled each other, their staffs poised and hatefilled eyes fixed on one another. “Did you see their faces, Jocelyn? They don’t know you as I do. Even Gamel didn’t truly know you or else he would never have left you his knowledge. He died before ever knowing the barbarism you’re capable of.” “I’m saintly next to you, Edrik. If it hadn’t been for a promise to Gamel, I’d have killed you centuries ago.” “Centuries ago you wouldn’t have had a chance.” Edrik lunged at Jocelyn, the poisoned end of his staff aimed at his heart. Jocelyn blocked it with one end of his weapon and attacked Edrik’s temple with the other. For the next several moments, the two traded blows, but neither drew blood. “You’re very good,” Edrik nodded once they broke apart. “Must be all those years of learning from the greatest tyrants in history. All that dick-sucking and slave breeding in Istanbul came in handy when you needed to learn from powerful men and women. Oh, I know all about you, Jocelyn. I know your kind. You relied on your carnal skills until you developed the lethal ones you truly desired. I guess once a slut, always a slut.” “Better a slut than a child-killer!” “Ah, yes. Your brat. Still holding a grudge, are you? Will it help if I tell you there is something I regret about the incident?” Edrik’s expression softened though his green eyes fixed on Jocelyn’s with malice. “It’s that I wasn’t there when you found her scorched body. I would have loved to see your face in all that furious, devastated rage.” Edrik stopped speaking as he blocked Jocelyn’s staff. They struck each other with such violence that several times the wood of Edrik’s weapon nearly snapped. Jocelyn’s, created by an otherworldly substance, remained solid. Edrik managed to kick Jocelyn’s mid-section and send him sprawling across the floor. He leapt atop him, his booted foot pinning Jocelyn’s arm to the ground, rendering his staff useless while his other heel smacked him in the sternum. “Oh, Jocelyn, you didn’t really think you were man enough to beat me? You come from a long line of cowards, including the father who didn’t have the slightest clue how to defend you from those slavers. Don’t move.” Edrik struck Jocelyn’s groin with the end of his staff. “Sorry, but someone should have done that long ago. It might have prevented all those slave brats and one ladychild. Now I’m going to get what’s rightfully mine then send your soul to hell where you and Gamel can mourn for eternity.” Edrik placed the pointed tip of the staff to Jocelyn’s throat, just short of drawing blood. With his free hand, Jocelyn grasped the staff, struggling against Edrik’s two-handed grip. He felt Edrik’s thoughts probing his, trying to unlock secrets Gamel had given him. He knew that one way or the other, Edrik would get something he wanted. In such a helpless position, he couldn’t fend off Edrik physically and psychically.
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“Stop fighting it, Jocelyn. You know that even if I kill you, I’ll take what I want from your dying mind, catching the knowledge of your soul before it crosses to the netherworld.” “Then why don’t you just kill me,” Jocelyn gasped, clenching the staff though Edrik continued pressing it into his throat. “Because this is more fun.” Edrik leaned harder on the staff, but was thrown off balance when Jocelyn swung his legs upward, though he risked cutting his own throat when Edrik was kicked forward onto the floor. Edrik wasted no time leaping to his feet, but Jocelyn had retrieved the staff. With the quickness of a predator he feinted a strike to Edrik’s head, but directed his full power below the waist. Edrik doubled over and Jocelyn’s staff struck the back of his head. Jocelyn’s booted foot smashed the demon’s temple, ensuring his loss of consciousness. “Must be my face,” Jocelyn muttered, spitting a mouthful of blood as he kicked Edrik onto his back. “Everybody underestimates me.” Once he’d chained Edrik’s hands and feet, he bolted the ends of the chains to the floor so that the vampire lay spread-eagled and helpless. Jocelyn reached into his pocket and withdrew a bottle filled with gasoline. He soaked Edrik’s clothes with it and squirted the remainder in his face. Edrik awoke, spitting gasoline. “Jocelyn, you bastard! What the hell are you doing?” Edrik’s eyes widened as Jocelyn pulled out a packet of matches. “You can’t do this! What happened to your daughter was war! This is savage! You’re the very evil you think I am!” “This is war,” Jocelyn said flatly. “If you’re going to kill me, then use the staff! Do it like one immortal to another. Do it like—” Edrik’s words turned to screams as Jocelyn dropped the match and watched his enemy writhe beneath the flames. When the shrieking finally ceased, Jocelyn doused the fire with his coat and pressed the tip of the staff above the heart of the charred body. He stood for a moment, listening to Edrik struggle to breathe through his scorched throat. Pressing the staff through what was left of the monster’s flesh, Jocelyn cut out Edrik’s heart. Holding the black lump in his hands, he squeezed. Dizzy, Jocelyn dropped to his knees, the heart slipping to the floor as he buried his face in his hands. “Jocelyn!” Charlie shouted, racing across the warehouse, Brett beside her. She looked in horror from what was left of Edrik’s body to Jocelyn who knelt, his face hidden and body trembling. She pulled him into her arms. “It’s over, Jocelyn.” “I’ll say.” Brett kicked Edrik’s body with his toe. “This isn’t good, Joss. Not good.”
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Jocelyn, his face streaked with blood, glanced at Brett who struck him in the back of the head with his gun handle. “What the hell are you doing?” Charlie glared, catching Jocelyn’s unconscious body. “We have to be careful, Charlie,” Brett said, slinging Jocelyn’s inert form over his shoulder. “Damn him. He must have really hated Edrik.” “He killed his daughter. Burned her alive.” “So that’s the reason. The bastard got what he deserved, but not without a price.” “What are you talking about?” “If Jocelyn killed him quickly and correctly with a single thrust to the heart, everything would probably be fine. There are legends of vampires with keen mind control, such as Edrik possessed, who are able to force their spirits into co-existence with a host, if the soul is given the appropriate time and conditions.” Charlie looked sick. “Are you saying that Jocelyn and Edrik are in the same body?” “I’m not sure, but there is a possibility. We’ll take him to your Coven where he can be restrained until we’re sure.” “What if Edrik is still alive? Then how can we get rid of him?” Charlie sank into the passenger seat. “Why did he do this?” “Revenge.” Brett rested a hand on her shoulder. “One of the strongest, most frightening emotions of the human heart, particularly if it’s love we’re avenging.” “Sybil wouldn’t have wanted this,” Charlie whispered. “The loved one rarely wants the revenge.” Brett started the engine and drove away in silence.
***** One of the Coven members, a relative of Ricco’s who lived in a secluded farmhouse in southern Spain, immediately offered to hold Jocelyn until they could decide if he and Edrik shared one body. Ricco volunteered to accompany them to the house. He informed Charlie that both of her parents were hospitalized and out of danger. Her father’s legs had been crushed by the van. Robert would need intensive therapy, but chances for a full recovery were good. Cassie wanted to travel to the farmhouse with them, but Charlie insisted she remain with Robert at the hospital. There was little Cassie could do to help Jocelyn, but Robert needed support. Reluctantly, Cassie agreed. Before leaving the Madrid hospital to join Brett and Ricco in the car, she embraced her mother. “I can’t believe this happened,” Charlie said. “I never doubted Jocelyn would destroy Edrik, and I knew he could die, but I never thought we might have to kill him.”
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“Brett told you he’d do it, not that it makes it any easier,” Cassie said. “I don’t know if I can face this.” “You will.” Cassie held her tighter. “You’ll know what’s right at the time and it will give you the strength to face it.” Unsure of her mother’s words, Charlie hurried to the car. She was grateful that Brett would be there to support her, but even he couldn’t shield her from reality. Brett kept Jocelyn unconscious during the hour-long ride. Even though they took the extra precaution of binding Jocelyn’s hands and feet, Ricco stared nervously at the vampire propped beside him in the back seat. “You’re sure he won’t wake up?” Ricco asked. “For the tenth time, I’m sure,” Brett said. “I gave him enough drugs to kill a mortal. He’s not going to wake up before tomorrow night.” “You can’t blame me,” Ricco said. “If he’s that maniac with Jocelyn’s skills, I don’t want to be in this car if he wakes up.” “Don’t worry. When he comes to, I don’t want you anywhere near him,” Brett said. “Edrik’s psychic skills are far too advanced. He could take you under his power and cause a hell of a scene. I’ll be the only one around when he awakens.” “No, you won’t,” Charlie said. “I’ll be with you.” “Charlie, it’s too risky.” “No, Brett. I was with Edrik. He tried using his skills on me and they didn’t work. Not only did Jocelyn teach me about controlling my mind, but Sybil and Gamel are with me. I can feel them.” “Charlie, even if that’s true, you don’t want to be there if I have to…you know.” Brett glanced at her with sympathy. “No, I don’t want to, but I owe him that much. He wouldn’t abandon me, and I’m not about to abandon him.” “It’s your choice.” “Hey, I…I think he moved,” Ricco said. Charlie and Brett exchanged annoyed looks. It was going to be a very long ride. At the farmhouse, the animals had been removed from the barn so Jocelyn could be hidden inside. Brett chained him in one of the stalls then he and Charlie waited, seated side-byside, the Coven staff resting against the wall between them. “You can leave at any time, Charlie.” “I told you I’m staying.” Her gaze remained fixed on Jocelyn. While she had been at the hospital with her parents, Brett had cleaned the blood from Jocelyn and changed his clothes so that he appeared almost peaceful sleeping in the straw. She wanted to believe he’d awaken as he had been, but Brett’s warning concerned her. 198
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“Do you really think it’s not him?” she asked softly. “I don’t know, but it’s not something we can risk. Jocelyn wanted it this way. I know it. He realized I’d take this precaution. That’s why he wanted my help, not only to protect you. He wanted revenge.” “Part of me is furious with him right now. I knew he had hatred in him, but not like that.” “There’s more to Jocelyn than any of us can ever know. Maybe there’s more to all of us. I make it seem like I don’t hide anything, but we all have our secrets.” “I guess so.” “He’s very lucky to have you.” Brett turned to her. “You love each other very much.” “I wish he’d loved me enough not to do this.” “It was stupid and selfish, but remember he’s been carrying that hatred for six centuries. If it was your kid Edrik had killed, you might have done the same thing.” “I know. I’m just afraid of losing what we have. I never expected to fall in love with him.” Brett nodded, leaning back in his wooden chair, his gaze fixed on Jocelyn. He hoped his suspicions were wrong. At dusk the following day, Charlie had just drifted to sleep when she heard Jocelyn call her name. “Charlie, are you all right?” She stooped beside him, straining to see in the dimness of the stall. “I’m okay. It’s you we’ve been worried about.” “I’m fine.” He pushed himself to his knees. “But I’ll be better once I’m out of these bonds. Brett must have made these.” “Yes, he did.” Brett walked into the stall. His vampiric eyes saw Jocelyn clearly and he was distrustful of his friend’s calm expression. “I’m not taking them off until I’m sure it’s safe.” “A good precaution,” Jocelyn agreed, allowing Charlie to help him to a more comfortable position. She kissed his mouth and stroked his cheek. “I was so afraid for you,” she said. “All I was concerned with was getting you away from that maniac Edrik.” Jocelyn moved his wrists uncomfortably against the metal chains. “Do you think you could at least loosen these a bit?” Brett looked hesitant. “Brett, I’m sure he’s fine. There’s no reason for him to be uncomfortable.” “That’s right, especially since I’ve killed that bastard Edrik. Burned him alive to avenge my brat who died six hundred years ago!”
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Charlie’s eyes widened in surprise at Jocelyn’s words. When she turned to him, he lunged at her, his teeth snapping at her jugular. Brett shoved her aside. Charlie, her hand pressed to her throat, stared at Jocelyn who snarled, his eyes glowing, his fangs dripping saliva as he ranted, “But killing him wasn’t nearly as exciting as what I did to your friend Mara. Her fear-tainted blood was so good that I wish I had killed her! I can almost taste her now!” Bret turned to take the staff from the wall but Charlie already grasped it so tightly her hands ached. She glanced from Brett to Jocelyn. She knew it was her lover speaking so viciously of Mara and his beloved Sybil so they wouldn’t be deceived by Edrik’s initial calmness. He’d warned them in the only way he could. “Charlie, are you sure you can do this?” Brett still stood between her and the vampire. “Of course she can’t!” Jocelyn hissed. “She wants me to do her like I did Mara. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, bitch? The thought of being devoured by a vampire thrills you, even better if it’s the vampire who crushed your father’s legs with a van. Which gives me an idea. Perhaps we can do it in the back of that same van, like I did your mother—” Brett leapt aside as Charlie thrust the platinum tip of the staff through Jocelyn’s heart. His scream echoed through the empty stable as his blood darkened the straw. Then he fell silent. Charlie dropped to her knees, sobbing violently. Brett removed the staff from Jocelyn’s body and sat beside Charlie, placing an arm around her. “He’s dead. It’s usually quick with us when it’s done right. You did the right thing, Charlie.” “I know.” She wiped her eyes. “I’m just going to miss him, Brett.” She moved from Brett and knelt beside Jocelyn, tugging his head onto her lap, not caring that his blood soaked her pants and stained her skin. With trembling fingers she stroked his pale hair until his body cooled and the moon rose in the sky.
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Chapter Nineteen Several weeks after Jocelyn’s death, Robert was strong enough to fly back to the United States where he could continue therapy in a hospital at home. Charlie’s parents wanted her to stay with them, but she thought it best to return to school and salvage what was left of her life. Brett had volunteered to dispose of Jocelyn’s body and put him to rest in a manner befitting “their kind.” Out of respect for Jocelyn, the Coven had been willing to arrange his funeral. The decision fell to Charlie who allowed Brett to take his body. “Even though we didn’t know each other very long, it was like the three of us belonged together,” she told Brett when he saw her off at the airport. “Charlie, I…” Brett began, a look of confusion in his eyes. It faded almost as quickly as it appeared. “I’ll miss you.” “You too.” She accepted his embrace, willing herself not to weep. “You were a good friend to both of us. I know Jocelyn felt the same.” “I hate good-byes, so I’ll say see you later. If you need anything—I mean anything—just let me know.” “You too.” She hugged him again before joining her parents on the plane.
***** As Charlie drove along the familiar road to the house which she was still under obligation to care for, she felt overwhelming sadness. Inside, she walked throughout the rooms, pausing in the parlor where Mara had been brutalized by Edrik. Other than the missing coffee table which had been cleaned up along with the rest of the mess, there was no sign that anyone had been attacked there. Even so, Charlie only had to close her eyes to see Mara’s bleeding body amidst the destruction. She’d phoned Mara from the airport the night before. The two women had made dinner plans for that night. Mara still didn’t feel ready to meet Charlie at the house and wondered if she would ever enter the place again. Charlie said she understood, that some things were so painful that even time might not lessen the emotions attached. Perhaps something in Charlie’s voice told Mara of her intense experiences with Jocelyn. When asked, Charlie merely said they had ventured out on private Coven business and they’d never see each other again. Both Brett and the Coven had agreed it would be best to mention Jocelyn as little as possible, though Charlie wished she could tell Mara everything. 201
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Nothing could stop the silent screaming of her heart as it ached for Jocelyn. She continued walking through the house and into the bedroom where she’d first given the Coven ring to him, where their fingertips had touched and their souls bonded forever. Unable to control her tears, she sat on the bed and cried until it was time to meet Mara. An hour later, Charlie sat across from her friend at a Chinese restaurant, noting how well Mara had healed after her ordeal. Though she still walked with a limp and her right cheek was marked by a fading scar, Mara hadn’t let the attack destroy her sense of humor. Charlie was grateful just to be with her again. “I wish the cops would find the bastard who did this to me.” Mara licked duck sauce from her fingertips. “I hate to think he could be doing this to other women.” Charlie wanted to tell her that he’d never hurt anyone again but was sworn to silence regarding Edrik. Instead, she said, “My mother had one of her visions about your attacker.” “She knows who it is?” “No, but she feels that he’s dead.” “Really?” Charlie nodded. “She’s sure of it.” “I hope he suffered.” Mara glanced at her plate, her face stained, before she drew a deep breath and held Charlie’s gaze. “I know you can’t talk about what you and Jocelyn did together, but you fell in love with him, didn’t you?” “Is it that obvious?” Mara smiled sadly. “Yes. I’m really sorry it didn’t work out for you, but at least one good thing came of it. You got rid of Mark.” “I thought you said he was so wonderful?” Mara raised her eyes to heaven. “When I got out of the hospital, he took me to dinner one night. How did you ever have an intelligent conversation with him?” “I didn’t. Until I met Jocelyn, I didn’t know what intelligent conversation with a man was. Until him, I had no idea what a real man was.” “He did have a certain charm, but I still say he was too old for you.” If Mara only knew the half of it.
***** For Charlie, life returned to its normal pattern—at least outwardly. She worked part time at a clothing shop, walked Bell every morning and evening, and continued with her artwork as she waited for the spring semester to begin. In spite of her effort to continue with her life, her artwork reflected her true feelings. Her paintings were as fine as ever, though haunted and dim. Frothing oceans and
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nighttime meadows formed beneath her brushstrokes, revealing loneliness and sorrow. She painted a few portraits but only obsessed over one. She’s always longed to paint Jocelyn, only they had never gotten around to it. As she worked one night, he took shape until he consumed her entire being. As the sun rose in the sky, she completed the painting of a lithe blond swordsman standing in a red-tinted field, his blades crossed overhead as he worshipped the setting sun. She brought the painting to Mara’s apartment that afternoon. “Wow.” Mara stared at it. “Intense. What did you call it?” “Jocelyn.” Mara didn’t speak but placed an arm around her friend’s shoulders as they gazed at the painting together. Several weeks later, Charlie was shocked to learn that Jocelyn had given her his house in New Hampshire. Apparently, he had placed it in her name a short time before they left for Spain. Cassie offered to fly out to help her make arrangements to sell the house, but Charlie refused. She planned on keeping it just as it was. For days she was terrified to even consider driving to it, but one weekend she threw some clothes in an overnight bag and left without hesitation. She trembled throughout the entire ride but stopped when she reached the front door. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply. If she tried, she could pretend that she and Jocelyn were still together, that if she walked into the living room he would be waiting for her by the fire. They would make love then spend the day in his bed. At dusk they would walk the twisted paths through the woods surrounding the house and stop in the clearing to watch ice melting in the lake where Jocelyn loved swimming. Charlie opened her eyes and walked inside. Jocelyn wasn’t there, but everything was just as they’d left it on that horrible night when Charlie’s father had contacted him about the Coven staff being sold. She stopped in front of the vitrine and rested her hand against the cool glass, staring at the rings inside and remembering the night she’d tried them on while Jocelyn watched, his gaze moving over her hands like a caress. She noticed the empty space where the velvet ring box containing the miniature portrait of Jocelyn and Sybil had rested. Reaching into her bag, she removed the box and opened it hesitantly as she had so many times over the past weeks. Other than her own drawings, it was the only picture of Jocelyn she had. Something about the way it captured the expression in his eyes haunted her. She stared with longing at the soft lines of his mouth and the sharpness of his cheekbones, wishing to touch him one last time. Sighing, she closed the ring box and returned it to its place in the vitrine. She kindled the fire. Lying on the couch, she wrapped herself in a quilt and fell asleep watching the flames. The next few days she spent walking Bell through the pathways in the woods and working on her art. One night as she finished a painting of a cathedral, the phone rang and she was surprised to hear Brett on the other line.
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“I just wanted to see how you were doing,” he said. “I’m all right. Classes will be starting again soon. I’m taking a course in Medieval history. That should interest you.” “I prefer nowadays. I like running water and sports cars.” Charlie laughed. She’d almost forgotten Brett’s sense of humor. “Your mother said Jocelyn gave—I mean left—you his house.” “Yes.” Charlie sighed. “He signed it over to me before we left for Spain. He must have known he was going to die. I don’t know why I was so surprised. He never hid anything from me.” “No matter what we say, there’s no way to prepare for losing someone we love.” “I miss him so much, Brett.” For a moment they fell silent. Strangely, in that silence, she felt Jocelyn more strongly than she had since his death. It seemed like Jocelyn, rather than Brett, was on the phone. When she hung up, Charlie felt sorrowful yet comforted at the same time. She knew Jocelyn was and would always be with her in spirit, just like Sybil. She smiled at the thought that he and his child were finally together after so many centuries. “Now they have eternity,” Charlie whispered, returning to her painting. Bell looked up from where she rested at Charlie’s feet and replied with a swish of her tail.
***** The first day of her spring semester, Charlie was unable to concentrate in her classes. After the experiences of the past months, college, art, and life in general seemed trite. She knew once she learned to cope with her grief, everyday things might matter to her again. Mara told her to forget about Jocelyn and find a man who really cared for her, but Mara didn’t know the whole truth. She didn’t know how much Jocelyn had loved her. Their connection had transcended the typical bonds between a man and a woman. They had shared a plight, witnessed an evil, and created a love Charlie had never dreamed existed. Now it was gone. Forever. She sat dismally in the back of another classroom, ignoring the chatter from the rest of the students as they awaited the professor. She was vaguely aware of Mark seated two rows away from her and flirting shamelessly with a blond-haired freshman. Though she and Mark remained civil to each other, neither missed the relationship they almost had. He was young, foolish, and had plenty of growing up to do. Though they were close in age, Charlie felt years ahead of him. She was no longer content with a boy but wanted a man. When it came to men, Jocelyn was a difficult act to follow.
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“I heard Professor Richardson won’t be back for months,” Charlie overheard the blond say to Mark. “No one knows the instructor who’s taking over this class. I hope he’s not too tough. Richardson was easy.” Mark shrugged. “If the class sucks, I’ll drop it.” Charlie examined her nails, thinking the last thing she had to worry about was a tough instructor. The room fell silent and Charlie glanced up, assuming the professor had finally arrived. As soon as she saw him, her entire body trembled and she had to remind herself to breathe. His blond hair was cut just above his shoulders and swept back, curling slightly behind his ears. Steel-rimmed glasses covered his dark eyes. His brown turtleneck tucked into tan pleated pants complimented his tall, lean body. “Good afternoon. I’m your instructor, Jocelyn Ayer.” “Oh man,” Mark groaned. “Why me?” Jocelyn raised an eyebrow at Mark. “Excuse me?” “Nothing.” The youth shook his head. “Sorry.” “Well, first things first.” Jocelyn walked to the chalkboard and wrote his name, phone number, and office hours as he spoke to his students. “Contrary to popular belief, history classes aren’t meant to be boring. If you look at history as if you were actually there, how can you possibly be bored?” Charlie picked up her books and fled the room, nearly knocking over several chairs as she ran. She bounded down three flights of stairs and was nearly out of the building when Jocelyn caught her arm. “Charlie, wait a minute!” “How dare you do this to me?” She shoved him away, tears streaking her face. “How is this possible?” “I didn’t know it was possible, but I’m alive and I’m mortal. It was Brett. He’s older than I am and also knows some rituals of the ancients. He knew of one that resurrects the life of a slain…” He lowered his voice as two women passed through the hallway. “Vampire. He wasn’t sure himself it would work, but apparently…” She wiped her eyes on her sleeve, finally regaining some of her composure. “Why didn’t you tell me? How could you let me think you were dead, that I’d killed you?” “I was dead.” Her fists clenched. “You know what I mean!” “I never intended to tell you at all,” he admitted, holding his hand up to silence her before she could rant. “I did enough damage to your life already. Brett told me you had come home to put yourself back together. I thought it would be better for you if you thought I was dead.”
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“You’re not making any sense!” “Charlie, you’re young. Much younger than I am even if I hadn’t been a vampire. You deserve a normal life with someone like—dare I say it?—Mark.” “Mark? He’s a moron! Do you have any idea how devastated I’ve been for these past months? I loved you, Jocelyn!” He lowered his gaze. Loved. She’d loved him. “I’m sorry,” he said. “At first I thought I’d have the strength to keep away from you, but my selfishness overcame me again. I had to see you, but I waited so long that I was afraid of how you’d react. Before Edrik escaped, I had been a history professor. One of the men I was in college with years ago was affiliated with this school and was able to get me the job here as a replacement until Professor Richardson returns. I had hoped that maybe you and I could… What a fool I am!” He turned his back to her, his entire body appearing as tense as she felt. Charlie walked around to face him. She brushed a random lock of hair from his cheek. “You cut your hair. It’s cute.” “I…have to get back to class. I guess you’ll be dropping Medieval history.” “Only if that’s what you want.” “No, I don’t! I only want what you want.” “It really is you.” She moved closer, touching his face. Not caring that they were in the middle of the hallway, she threw her arms around him and closed her eyes as he held her so tightly their hearts beat in union. “I’ve missed you so much,” she said. “You too.” He rested his cheek against the top of her head. “Do you know I’d have Brett call you just so I could hear your voice?” “It was so strange, but sometimes when I talked to him I felt you.” She gazed into his eyes that shone with love for her. Their lips nearly touched when they heard the sound of a student’s boots clicking on the steps. Reluctantly, they moved apart and returned to class.
***** Charlie’s hands trembled so much she could scarcely strike the match to light the candles on the mantel in the living room. Jocelyn would arrive at any moment, as he’d agreed to see her immediately after his last class. After leaving the campus that afternoon, she’d stopped at the grocery store. At home, she’d set the table for a candlelight dinner. While the meal cooked, she prepared herself. She bathed in rose-scented water then slipped into a flowing dress of pale pink and jade flowers with a scoop neck that exposed the creamy tops of her breasts. She
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brushed her hair until it hung smooth and gleaming down her back. Glancing in a fulllength mirror, she scarcely recognized herself. The sorrow of the past months had been completely erased from her countenance. The greatest love she’d ever known and thought she’d lost had returned to her. Though still angry at him for keeping such an important secret, nothing would separate them this time. She finished lighting the candles and stood for a moment, watching the wax melt into a glistening pink pool around the wick. Closing her eyes, she felt the warmth of the flames on her cheek, reminding her of Jocelyn’s caress. Soon she would be in his arms again. It soothed her resentment toward him knowing that he longed for her as much as she longed for him. Bell growled, forcing Charlie from her daydream. She hurried to the hall and glanced through the window near the front door, watching Jocelyn’s car stop in the driveway. The headlights faded and the engine stopped. He sat for a moment, his hands caressing the wheel. What was he waiting for? Was he as nervous as she was? She stepped out of view as he left the car. Moments later, he knocked. Bell barked in earnest. Charlie’s heart pounded in anticipation. She opened the door and stared up at him, relaxing. He’d changed into a black outfit of loose pants and a silk shirt. The fleurde-lis, dangling from a leather choker, brushed his throat. He looked like the Jocelyn she remembered. The conventional college professor was a real part of him, but the exotic, pagan-looking man standing in the doorway was the Jocelyn she’d fallen in love with. He smiled slightly, somewhat nervously. His voice sounded gentle as he said, “I brought wine and this…” He offered her a half-opened white rose. As she accepted it, her hand brushed his. A jolt, much like the one when they first touched, flashed through her. The love and lust in his eyes matched hers. Swallowing audibly, she stepped aside for him to pass. As soon as she’d closed the door, he turned and pulled her into his arms. Her mouth sought his as he kissed her desperately, passionately. The rose still clutched in her hand, she locked her arms around his neck, refusing to let go. He swept her into his arms and ascended the steps. “How I’ve missed you, my darling Charlie,” he whispered against her lips. “You too. More than I can ever express.” He reached her bedroom and kicked the door shut. Placing her on the bed, he held her gaze. No words were spoken. None were needed. He undressed her, undoing the tiny buttons down the front of her dress. Parting the material, he kissed between her breasts and down her belly. While Charlie slipped out of her clothes, Jocelyn discarded his. Her gaze raked his well-defined whipcord frame. She ached to feel his steely arms around her and caress those long, hard legs. His cock, thick and erect, rose from a cushion of dark blond hair she longed to run her fingers through.
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He settled onto the bed and claimed her mouth with his in an urgent yet tender kiss. His tongue met hers with warm, moist strokes, leaving them both breathless. “Charlie, I’ve thought of nothing but you. Brett gave me back my life but all I wanted was for you to share it with me. Every night I longed for you in my bed and every morning I awoke needing to hold you.” “Make love with me, Jocelyn. Make love with me.” His hand roamed over her skin, soothing and caressing every bit of warm, smooth skin from her brow to her toes. Taking one of her feet in his hand, he massaged the arch and kissed the toes. Sliding up her body, he caressed her breasts with callused palms. She gasped, the sensation deliciously unexpected. As a vampire, any physical damage faded with the drinking of blood. In spite of his frequent use of weapons, such as the wooden staff, his hands had always been soft. Brett had truly resurrected him as a mortal man. That knowledge sent a new rush of desire through her. This would be the first time they shared lovemaking as like creatures. Her hands slid over his sleek chest and moved downward. She grasped his cock, rubbing the velvet skin and squeezing his warm hardness. With a guttural sigh, he buried his lips in her neck and licked. She kissed his hair, his chest, and his taut abs. Her hands roamed over his long, hair-roughened legs. Kneading the hard muscles of his thighs, her mouth hovered over his cockhead as she whispered, “Do you love me, Jocelyn?” “It’s a kind of madness, what I feel for you,” he sighed, gazing at her through half open eyes, his fingers buried in her hair. “Tell me.” “I love you. I love you more than I ever thought I could love a woman.” He gasped as she took his cock in her mouth and sucked, her tongue lapping the underside and the bulging, yearning head. Suddenly he pulled her into his arms and placed her on the rose-colored comforter. He cupped her breasts. His fingers gently pinched the nipples, turning them to pebbles of desire that he licked and teased with his wet, warm tongue. “Jocelyn, please! I need to feel you inside me! Now!” He lay beside her and turned her to face him. Her hand curled around his cock as she guided him into her drenched, aching pussy. Her muscles clamped around him as their legs entwined. The position he’d chosen forced them to make love slowly, tenderly, prolonging the intense passion threatening to consume them. Their hips thrust against one another. Their fingers explored each other’s faces, stroking hair and touching lips until Charlie could hold back no longer. She came, moaning and clinging to him. Clutching each other’s bottoms, they rode waves of passion. Charlie’s pulsation’s around his steely cock hurled Jocelyn into orgasm.
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He called her name breathlessly as he came, finally meeting her in the spiral of passion. For a long time after, she lay in his arms, listening to the slowing rhythm of his heart. Opening her eyes, she pressed her palm to his. Her hand looked small next to his long, graceful one. She noticed he no longer wore the ruby Coven ring but instead an oval-shaped onyx set in silver adorned his index finger. “Why did you give me your house, even though you thought you weren’t coming back to me?” “Because I wanted you to have something of me and what we shared. Because I knew you’d appreciate everything in it and because I love you.” She smiled, kissing the back of his hand. “I don’t want us to be apart again, Jocelyn.” “You don’t?” No.” Her brow furrowed. “Don’t you?” “I want to be with you always, but after what you said earlier, I didn’t think you felt the same.” She looked genuinely perplexed. “After what I said?” “Loved. You said you loved me. Past tense.” She shook her head. “You’re crazy! I love you more than anything, Jocelyn Ayer. If there is a hell then I’ve been in it these past months thinking you were dead. Is that enough for you?” “No.” “What more can I say?” “Say you’ll marry me, Charlie.” “Well it’s about time.” She laughed. “I thought you’d never ask.”
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Epilogue Jocelyn and Charlie were married in the living room of their New Hampshire house. Charlie’s father, a Justice of the Peace, performed the ceremony while Cassie, Mara, and Brett stood by as witnesses. Charlie wore a dress of burgundy velvet and carried a bouquet of white roses while Jocelyn wore a black suit, the fleur-de-lis at his throat. He presented her with a platinum band to match the ruby engagement ring he’d give her. As she slipped the matching band onto the third finger of his left hand where the Coven ring had once rested, she realized for the first time they were free. He brushed a kiss across her mouth as the ceremony ended. They stood alone by the fire for several moments while the others moved to the dining room to enjoy the prepared meal. “It seems like this happened so fast.” Charlie smiled up at him. “But it hasn’t really. I think we felt this way from the first.” “I have. That’s why I was so afraid of you.” He laughed. “You, afraid of me? That’s a twist. But you’re not anymore?” “No, not anymore. You’re the only person I’ve ever completely trusted.” He placed his hand to the back of her neck and drew her mouth to his for a kiss before they joined the others. Two days later, they left for England where they would spend their honeymoon and have Jocelyn’s pets and belongings sent to America where they planned to spend most of the year. His home was located on a small portion of his family’s ancestral land. They drove through miles of solitary fields before finally reaching his house. The caretaker greeted them and explained that all had gone smoothly in Jocelyn’s absence. Both of his dogs and his horse where in the field behind the house. “I can’t believe you never mentioned you had a horse,” Charlie said as they walked through the damp grass. “I can’t seem to live without one. I guess it’s because I spent more years on them than in cars.” “You’re not going to mind leaving all this to spend most of your time in America?” “I’ve lived in so many places that I couldn’t care less. As long as I’m with you, I’m happy.” She squeezed his hand as they reached the top of the hill and looked down on the paddock. Two mastiffs played a short distance from a grazing stallion with a coat of such dark chestnut it appeared black. As Jocelyn and Charlie approached, the dogs raced up to them, competing for attention from their master and the strange woman accompanying him.
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“This is Minerva.” Jocelyn rubbed the top of the larger dog’s head and nodded to the other who sniffed loudly around Charlie’s boots. “And Caliban. The horse is Valerian.” Not wanting to be left out of the reunion, Valerian plodded toward them, sticking his lovely head over the fence and staring at them with calm eyes. Jocelyn stroked his face, talking to him softly. “I’ve missed you, Valerian. Have you been good?” As Jocelyn spoke, he slipped onto the horse’s bare back. Watching them trot along the perimeter of the fence, Charlie thought how he and the horse moved perfectly together. Valerian stopped near her and Jocelyn held out his hand. “Come on.” “I don’t think so.” She giggled. “I’ve never been on a horse before.” “Then I don’t think you should wait a moment longer.” Unable to resist his smile and the inviting strength of his hand, she climbed the fence and slid nervously onto Valerian’s back. Jocelyn steadied her with his arms. She experienced a momentary rush of desire as she felt the hardness of his chest on her back and the pressure of his legs against hers. They lurched forward as Valerian walked. After a few moments, she relaxed. Jocelyn’s lips caressed the back of her neck. She shivered with pleasure. “This isn’t so bad, is it?” he asked. “It’s kind of nice.” She loosened her fierce grip on Valerian’s mane. “In a few months, you’ll be riding better than I do.” “I doubt it.” “Trust me.” “I do.” She glanced at him. “Completely.” He pulled Valerian to a stop as he claimed Charlie’s mouth with his own.
***** The curtains were drawn back from the glass double doors leading to the balcony of Charlie and Jocelyn’s second floor bedroom. She lay beside him as he slept, his face bathed in moonlight. Rolling onto her elbow, she smiled and removed his glasses, placing them aside. Resting her cheek against his chest, she slept.
*****
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The meadow appeared mystical as sun glistened on the dew-covered grass and reflected in the gently rippling brook through which Charlie and Jocelyn walked, hand-in-hand. Never had she felt such utter peace. As she looked into his eyes, she knew he felt the same. Water splashed behind them. They turned to Sybil who ran to catch up with them. She stopped in front of them, her blond braid bouncing across one shoulder as she stared at Jocelyn with a scolding look. “Now do you understand?” she asked. “Have you finally listened?” “Yes.” His gaze fixed on her as he folded his hands behind his back to keep from reaching out to her, fearful that she would fade beneath his touch. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen before. I’m sorry our time was so short.” “It will be longer.” She held out her arms to him. He dropped to his knees in the water and gathered her small body tightly to his. “Very soon.” “What do you mean, Sybil?” Charlie stooped beside them and rested her hand on top of the girl’s head. She glanced at Charlie without pulling back from Jocelyn and smiled. “I’ve wandered for a long time, but I have to be born again. Tonight you’ve become my mother.”
***** Charlie awoke, still snug in Jocelyn’s arms. She glanced at him in the moonlight and he stared back with a questioning look she immediately understood. “We were with her?” she asked. He nodded. Charlie placed a hand to her flat abdomen. She didn’t need to ask. The answer was clear. She was carrying Jocelyn’s child, a child who had chosen to return to him, through her, after six centuries. “Are you happy?” He cupped her cheek. “Yes. Very happy. This is more than I ever expected.” “Me too. I’ve been given second chances with the two people I love most. How many men are that lucky?” He pulled her into his embrace so she lay atop him, her breasts pressed to his chest, her lips almost touching his. “I promise you, Charlie, I’ll love and care for you both. I’ll be a better father this time and the best husband I can be for you.” “We’ll be there for each other. That’s what a family is.” “I’ve learned that. It might have taken me six hundred years, but as you said before, I’m stubborn.” “So am I. That’s why I wouldn’t give up on you.” “It’s the strangest feeling.”
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Darkness Therein
“What is?” She looked into his eyes and saw that his expression was distant and thoughtful. “Long ago, after Gamel died and I dedicated my life to learning the fighting arts, I was a different person. You wouldn’t have recognized me. Edrik said that I was as bad as he was, and he wasn’t far from the truth. I was at my worst around the same time I was betrayed by a boy I’d rescued from slave traders. I raised him for twelve years, yet because of him, I was captured by enemies and tortured in their prison before I managed to escape.” “That’s horrible, Jocelyn. You never told me that before.” “I never wanted you to know the truth about the life I once lived. I wanted to forget it because right around that time, something changed in me. I realized I could use my skills to help the defenseless. In doing so, I found a certain satisfaction with myself.” “What changed you?” “I’m not sure. Maybe it was seeing myself in that boy. I do know the sensation I just had, here with you, reminded me of that time. For a single moment in the midst of a lifetime of rage, I knew a certain peace. Now, because of you, I’ll feel that peace for the rest of my life. We’re soul mates, Charlie. Our spirits are bound forever. I know it as surely as I know how much I love you.” “Maybe that’s why I was able to see your life in my paintings.” “Maybe.” “Speaking of painting, you never modeled for me.” She sat up on the bed, the sheet falling from her shoulders and baring her breasts to his searching hands. “You want to paint me now?” He glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “It’s half past two.” “What better time to paint a beautiful male nude than the middle of the night?” He tugged her onto her back and nuzzled her shoulder as his hand dipped between her legs. “Or we can do it tomorrow,” she breathed, squirming with pleasure as his fingers slipped into her pussy while his thumb teased her clit. “Two in the morning is a stupid time to paint. Maybe in the daylight we can sit in the field and…” Her words were lost as his mouth covered hers in a kiss that bound their souls for eternity. The End
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About the author: A lifelong fan of action and romance, Kate Hill likes heroes with a touch of something wicked and wild. Her short fiction and poetry have appeared in publications both on and off the Internet. When she’s not working on her books, Kate enjoys dancing, martial arts, and researching vampires and Viking history. Website: http://www.kate-hill.com Email:
[email protected] Kate Hill welcomes mail from readers. You can write to her c/o Ellora’s Cave Publishing at P.O. Box 787, Hudson, Ohio 44236-0787.
Also by Kate Hill: The Blood Doctor Deep Red Dream Stallion The Holiday Stalking In Black Knights of the Ruby Order 1: Torn Knights of the Ruby Order 2: Crag Knights of the Ruby Order 3: Lock Midnight Desires Moonlust Privateer Vampires at Heart
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