Secrets of the Night Special Edition, page 71
A half-hour later, they left the shop with Galan carrying two hat boxes under his arms, the handle of a third dangling from his forefinger. If he hadn't stopped her, Rosalinda would have emptied the damned store. By all the saints, how he wanted to leave her and get the hell back to Miami.
Where was Octavius! Hunger gnawed at Galan's belly, an agonizing reminder he couldn't postpone feeding much longer--but by himself.
A few blocks later, they prowled the streets of Piccadilly Circus, this section a jumble of neon lights, tacky stores, and garish signs. Drunken revelers made a ruckus, garnering a disdainful glance from Rosalinda.
"Stupid mortals,” she hissed.” I'll get them soon enough.” Bloody saliva dripped from her mouth, her long nails sharper than talons, like an eagle poised to pounce on a rabbit.
Fierce hunger tortured Galan, like red hot knives gouging his stomach. He had to get away. Couldn't wait any longer. He had to--
A flash of white appeared around the corner, a young man with blonde hair, his long robe falling to his ankles, leather sandals on his feet.
"Octavius!” The laggard joined them at a street corner where a porno shop flanked a store that sold nothing but condoms. Where the hell have you been?
"Galan.” Octavius greeted him with a curt nod, then turned all his charm on the vampiress.” And Rosalinda!” he cried, his gaze devouring her.” A vision of loveliness.” Bending low, he raised her hand to kiss the back, his look deep with desire.” What a coincidence to see two of my best friends here in London, of all places! Mind if I join you?”
Rosalinda hesitated.” Galan and I are having such a good time, and we were just going to feed together.”
Galan shot her a glance. We were?
Octavius smiled winsomely.” Oh, but Rosalinda, some of our nightstalker friends in Paris are giving a party this very minute. Think how you enjoy those revels! Everyone we know will be there, even Lilith, I'll wager. You have a score to settle with her, if I remember correctly. So why not come with me?” He glanced in Galan's direction and winked.” You, too, Galan.”
Rosalinda clapped her hands.” I love parties! And when I see Lilith, I swear I'll scratch her eyes out.” She threw an appealing glance at Galan.” Let's go to Paris.”
Galan made a gallant bow.” Two's company, three's a crowd. It breaks my heart to leave you, dear Rosalinda, but I mustn't keep you from a good time.” He pressed his hand to his heart as he caught Octavius' sly grin out of the corner of his eye. After another bow, he handed the hat boxes to Octavius.” I bid you both adieu.”
His face set in studied control, Galan left them, anxious to return to Stevie, although it was still too early to see her in secret. He'd visit her later, when she'd be sound asleep and he could resume his surveillance. Octavius had come to his rescue this time, but Galan's intuition told him his luck wouldn't hold much longer. Sooner or later, Rosalinda would be back, a greater threat to Stevie than ever.
Moloch, too.
He had to defeat them both.
* * *
In the hazy darkness before dawn, Galan lay in his coffin. While he slept, images flooded his mind, finally coalescing into a dream so real, it was as if he'd actually lived through the experience. Yet even while sleep embraced him, he knew it was only a dream. . . .
A warm summer breeze drifted across the meadow as Galan leaned against a massive chestnut tree to wait for Linette.
He looked off into the distance where the grassland met the green-garbed oaks and beeches in the thick woods. With an ever quickening heartbeat, he saw his loved one's slender figure as she hurried toward him. Passion engulfed him, his desire at a breaking point.
"Linette!” He stopped to stare at her.” Linette?”
Clad in jeans and a pink T-shirt, she rushed into his arms.” Galan!”
He shook his head to clear it.” Stevie?”
She laughed, the breeze lifting her long blonde hair from her shoulders and molding her T-shirt to her breasts.” Galan, don't you recognize me?”
"Ah, yes, my Stevie!” He gathered her in his arms and kissed her long and hard.” I've waited a lifetime for you. Many lifetimes.”
They found a spot within the shade of wide oaks, where not even the sun could witness their lovemaking. She kicked off her moccasins and unzipped her jeans, then stepped out of them. With tantalizing slowness, she tugged the T-shirt over her head and unhooked her lacy bra, letting the garments fall to the ground.
She slipped her silk panties off and tossed them with the rest of her clothes. She stood before him naked, the loveliest sight he'd ever beheld, an image that rendered him speechless. His gaze took in her high, proud breasts, the flat belly, the entrancing curve of her hips.
His fingers fumbling, he drew off his tunic and untied his woolen braies, tossing them to the ground. His undergarment shoved aside, he laid his tunic on the leafy forest floor for her to lie on.
"Come, darling.” Galan eased her onto the warm ground and lay down beside her, amidst the shady foliage. He drew her into his embrace, all his restrained love and longing finding release in each shared kiss, each caress, every whispered endearment.
"I love you,” she murmured as she returned kiss for kiss, touch for touch.
"Dearest, I want you so much.”
"Then make me yours,” she said, “for all time, through all our lives together.”
Love and passion drove him on, and he couldn't have stopped if day had become night, if the world had ceased spinning, if the sun had burned to ashes.
He nuzzled her neck.” You're mine, forever.”
"Yes!”
Words no longer had any meaning as their rapture spiraled to an undreamed of pitch, ending all too soon in their cries of ecstasy.
"Linette,” he murmured after he kissed her softly on the lips.” My Linette.”
Indignation flashed in her eyes.” I'm not Linette! I'm Stevie!”
Stevie! Galan jerked awake. Pushing locks of hair from his forehead, he thought about Stevie, her blonde hair and blue eyes, every dear gesture, and how much she reminded him of Linette.
Of course!
Chapter Eight
But why now? Lifting the coffin lid, Galan considered all the years--almost a thousand! --that he'd roamed the earth. Why had he met this dear woman only now and not in a previous century? He drew the deadbolt back and stepped out of the closet, the answer bursting upon him. Perhaps the time wasn't right. He paused while he closed the door. The time wasn't right? What in Hades did that mean?
Every muscle tense, he gripped the doorknob. How much longer could he pretend to be a mortal? How much longer before Stevie would discover what he really was? The thought sickened him. Oh, he'd been brave enough when he'd assured Moloch that Stevie would never guess his true essence, but he didn't think he could keep his unspeakable secret from her much longer. Sooner or later, she'd discover what a monster he was. He slumped against the door. God, he prayed, please don't let it be sooner.
Seize the moment. With renewed energy, he moved about the room, slipping on a steel gray silk shirt and inserting the gold cufflinks from Harrods. He exchanged his black jeans for charcoal gray woolen trousers and stepped into black Ferragamo loafers. He'd make the most of every evening, every minute with her, for he never knew when their time together might end.
* * *
At Galan's side, Stevie left the movie theater and walked onto the parking lot. Under a sliver of a moon and a few bright stars brave enough to compete with city lights, they headed for Galan's Mercedes.
"What a balmy night,” Stevie said as she gazed up at the clear sky. A night made for love, and here she was with Galan. If only--A stiff wind molded her light blue sweater to her breasts and plastered her long rayon skirt to her legs, the filmy material tangling between her knees, hindering her movements. As she bent over to loosen her skirt, she caught his eyes on her, his look undeniably sensual. A rush of heat made her forget the cold, forget everything but this man's presence. If someone asked her what movie she'd just seen, she could no more have told them than she could have sprouted wings and flown.
His familiar scent whirled around her, that aroma of sandalwood that seemed as much a part of him as his dark hair or ebony eyes.
He opened the car door for her, then walked around to his side and slid in beside her.” I meant to ask you about your Christmas,” he said, starting the engine, “but holidays often slip past me, I fear.” He glanced her way.” Did you have a pleasant day?”
She set her purse on the seat between them. How could Christmas, of all days, slip past him?” The people I rent from invited me to spend the day with them. But since Christmas is for families, I didn't want to spoil their time together, especially when they don't see their kids that often. So I spent the day by myself. What about you?” She studied the unreadable lines and angles of his face.
"I spent it by myself, also.”
While he drove through the heavy traffic, she made small talk, unaware of her words, every thought on him. She admired his hands on the steering wheel, those long, expressive fingers. It seemed such a shame. They could have spent Christmas together.
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, observing his mouth, wondering what it would be like to have his lips on hers, those expressive hands on her body. She grew warmer, and an ache blossomed inside her, a fierce need to be in his arms, to have his body close to hers. She shifted her position, certain he could sense her desire.
They arrived at the Shipley mansion a short while later, where Galan parked in the curving driveway, a few yards from a newly-planted crepe myrtle tree. Christmas lights brightened the yard, revealing a mass of red poinsettias on the wide front porch. As she waited for him to open her door, she nervously twisted a long strand of hair around her index finger. She wanted him to kiss her, but would he? The pleasant ache mushroomed into full-blown desire as he held the door open for her, his gaze meeting hers. What did his look mean? Her imagination ran wild, every thought on those dark eyes, his intense expression, his firm yet gentle hands.
In meaningful silence, they walked hand in hand to the apartment, past the jacaranda tree whose branches whipped in a stiff wind. Her hanging orchid pots swung back and forth from the branches of the grapefruit tree, like monkeys on a jungle gym. A vast canopy of night sky stretched above them, studded with countless constellations.
All these things she took in with only a look. Galan's nearness, his strong fingers wrapped around hers, sent a rush of heat from her head to her toes and to every body part in between. She sensed a certain barbarism in him, waiting to escape but barely kept in check. The thought brought a smile to her face. His fingers caressed hers, her desire skyrocketing. Kiss me, Galan, she wanted to say as they reached her door. Let me know what it's like to have your arms around me, kissing me until I can't think of anything, anyone but you.
The moonlight shone on Galan's face, accentuating his paleness and casting silver lights on his hair. His eyes were darker than obsidian, his gaze as intense as a lion stalking its prey.
"Sweeting,” he murmured as he stopped to face her.
"Why do you call me that?” More than anything, she wanted his kisses, but his language confused her.” That's the second time you've used that word.”
He brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch light and gentle.” It's an old term, goes back hundreds of years. Yet it's how I think of you--sweet and lovely, everything a man could want in a woman. And I want you--"
Without another word, he swept her into his embrace, binding her to him, as if for all time. He pressed his mouth to hers in a kiss that took her by surprise, a kiss like nothing she'd ever known. She wrapped her arms around his neck, returning his kisses, aching to keep him by her side. If he wanted to make love to her now, on her front doorstep, or carry her into her bedroom, she could never refuse him.
His kiss deepening, her body became weightless, as if she floated in space. Good lord, his kisses! She was drowning in sensuous pleasure, caught in a floodtide of warm passion, floundering, like a ship lost in a hurricane. If only she could stay in his arms forever, become part of him and never leave his side. Time no longer had any meaning as he pressed her ever closer, their bodies melding as one. Time present blended with time past and time future.
He whispered her name again and again, sending a fresh rush of heat through her body and leaving her so weak she feared her legs couldn't hold her. A trail of kisses from her mouth to her jaw line sent her emotions spinning out of control.
Then he stopped, his lips pressed to a spot on her neck. He licked the spot, his teeth nibbling at her skin. A low growl erupted from deep in his throat, a savage sound that sent a jolt of alarm racing through her.
She felt his shoulders tense beneath her fingers.
"Galan . . . what is it?”
"No,” he moaned.” Oh, no!”
Slowly, he drew back and stared down at her, a look of agony twisting his handsome face. How could he stop now, just let her go?
"I must leave now,” he whispered.
"Leave, already?” Desolation twisted inside her.
"Stevie, I'm so sorry.” After one last embrace, he was gone down the walkway before she could ask him what troubled him. So quickly, she'd hardly had time to comprehend his words.
Chest heaving, Stevie grasped the doorknob as she watched him climb into his car and drive off. She stared at the Mercedes until the taillights disappeared around the corner. Her body throbbed as silent moments slid past. A cat screeched from the backyard next door, interrupting her troubled musings. What was the matter with him? She unlocked the door and stepped into the dimly-lit living room, where the sofa, chair and tables dwelt in shadow. She'd never known a guy like him, never in her life.
She slumped into a chair and unbuttoned her coat, then slipped off her slingbacks. Why bother dating him? No sense in going with a man so full of secrets you never knew what he thought or felt. A man whose actions often bordered on the bizarre. A man who always left her aching for more.
* * *
Mindful of his promise to Galan, Octavius headed for Schloss Omerau. How could he distract Moloch, make the fiend leave Galan alone? He scratched his chin, a plan forming in his mind. The more he thought about it, the better it sounded. But could he stand before Moloch without stammering or shaking? The demon had always terrified him.
Arriving at the castle in the early evening, he found Moloch at the long trestle table in the great hall, a flagon of wine and a crystal goblet half-full of burgundy in front of him. Moloch's skeletal fingers clutched the glass, as if it were the elixir of youth, his ticket to eternal happiness.
A gust of wind through the open windows sent the purple velvet draperies whipping away from the wall, the glass of the crystal chandelier tinkling, like a thousand miniature chimes. In contrast to the splendor of the room, a black feline reposed in a far corner as it daintily licked its paws, the bloody remains of a rat at its feet.
Clad in a long black robe and short leather boots, Moloch threw Octavius a sullen look. Octavius swallowed hard, his stomach knotting. With his perpetual frown and downturned lips, the master looked like a starving dog deprived of its last bone.
"What do you want this time?” Moloch said in a deceptively mild voice.
Octavius bit his bottom lip. This time?
Moloch slammed his hand down on the long wooden table, knocking the goblet over. The wine spilled across the table and onto the stone floor, where it formed a crimson puddle.
"What's the matter? Lost your tongue? Tell me what you want!”
Don't let him upset you. He's only a vampire, like you.” I don't want anything. But Morcar--"
"Morcar! That troublemaker!”
"My feelings exactly. It seems he's spreading rumors about you again--"
"Again?”
Octavius nodded.” As he did a couple of centuries ago. Back then, Galan stopped him with a threat, very convincingly, I assure you. Now, Morcar's saying you've been at this position too long, that you're too stuck in your ways. 'Your fossilized' thinking, I believe is the term he used.” A muscle twitched in his jaw. Had he gone too far?” Morcar believes he could do a better job as leader. So--"
Moloch half rose from his chair, his long, slender fingers clenched on the table edge. His mouth hissed steam.” Where did he say this?” Black, piercing eyes stared at Octavius as he sank back down.
The maverick's legs shook under his toga, and he took a deep breath.” At a recent party in Paris. Hundreds of nightstalkers attended, more than I could count. He made no secret of his opinions, going from one vampire to another, spreading his vicious lies.” Would the fiend believe him? Octavius forced himself to breathe evenly. After all, it was the truth.
Moloch sprang to his feet, the chair falling back on the stone floor, echoing like a clap of thunder in the room. He nodded with determination, his dark eyes flashing venom.” You leave him to me.” He snapped his fingers.” You're dismissed.”
* * *
On a cold, frosty morning a few days after the New Year, Stevie dragged out of bed, feeling tired and listless, wishing she had a thermometer. I don't feel like going to work today, she agonized as she slid her feet into her fluffy slippers and headed for the kitchen.
A short while later, after grabbing her beige slacks from the closet, she rested on bed. Forcing her legs into the slacks, she thought about Galan and their last date, his every smile, his kisses. She'd never figure him out, this guy with his moody personality, his secrets.
Her fingers trembled as she zipped her pants, then she headed for the chest of drawers to get her blue cotton sweater. Outside her window, she heard the rumble and whistle of the Florida East Coast Railway train in the distance. She pressed her hand to her throbbing head, hoping she'd make it through the day.
She tugged at the drawer, her fingers so stiff she could barely grasp the knobs. Damn, damn, damn! She tugged hard, sending a Lladro angel toppling. After checking the angel for nicks, she set it aside and tried again. One deep breath and a hard tug opened the drawer. She'd suffered from fatigue for months, and now this! For the past several weeks, she'd lost her appetite, and now her clothes hung on her like garments on a broomstick scarecrow. A rush of alarm chilled her arms and legs. She'd have to see a doctor.
Where was Octavius! Hunger gnawed at Galan's belly, an agonizing reminder he couldn't postpone feeding much longer--but by himself.
A few blocks later, they prowled the streets of Piccadilly Circus, this section a jumble of neon lights, tacky stores, and garish signs. Drunken revelers made a ruckus, garnering a disdainful glance from Rosalinda.
"Stupid mortals,” she hissed.” I'll get them soon enough.” Bloody saliva dripped from her mouth, her long nails sharper than talons, like an eagle poised to pounce on a rabbit.
Fierce hunger tortured Galan, like red hot knives gouging his stomach. He had to get away. Couldn't wait any longer. He had to--
A flash of white appeared around the corner, a young man with blonde hair, his long robe falling to his ankles, leather sandals on his feet.
"Octavius!” The laggard joined them at a street corner where a porno shop flanked a store that sold nothing but condoms. Where the hell have you been?
"Galan.” Octavius greeted him with a curt nod, then turned all his charm on the vampiress.” And Rosalinda!” he cried, his gaze devouring her.” A vision of loveliness.” Bending low, he raised her hand to kiss the back, his look deep with desire.” What a coincidence to see two of my best friends here in London, of all places! Mind if I join you?”
Rosalinda hesitated.” Galan and I are having such a good time, and we were just going to feed together.”
Galan shot her a glance. We were?
Octavius smiled winsomely.” Oh, but Rosalinda, some of our nightstalker friends in Paris are giving a party this very minute. Think how you enjoy those revels! Everyone we know will be there, even Lilith, I'll wager. You have a score to settle with her, if I remember correctly. So why not come with me?” He glanced in Galan's direction and winked.” You, too, Galan.”
Rosalinda clapped her hands.” I love parties! And when I see Lilith, I swear I'll scratch her eyes out.” She threw an appealing glance at Galan.” Let's go to Paris.”
Galan made a gallant bow.” Two's company, three's a crowd. It breaks my heart to leave you, dear Rosalinda, but I mustn't keep you from a good time.” He pressed his hand to his heart as he caught Octavius' sly grin out of the corner of his eye. After another bow, he handed the hat boxes to Octavius.” I bid you both adieu.”
His face set in studied control, Galan left them, anxious to return to Stevie, although it was still too early to see her in secret. He'd visit her later, when she'd be sound asleep and he could resume his surveillance. Octavius had come to his rescue this time, but Galan's intuition told him his luck wouldn't hold much longer. Sooner or later, Rosalinda would be back, a greater threat to Stevie than ever.
Moloch, too.
He had to defeat them both.
* * *
In the hazy darkness before dawn, Galan lay in his coffin. While he slept, images flooded his mind, finally coalescing into a dream so real, it was as if he'd actually lived through the experience. Yet even while sleep embraced him, he knew it was only a dream. . . .
A warm summer breeze drifted across the meadow as Galan leaned against a massive chestnut tree to wait for Linette.
He looked off into the distance where the grassland met the green-garbed oaks and beeches in the thick woods. With an ever quickening heartbeat, he saw his loved one's slender figure as she hurried toward him. Passion engulfed him, his desire at a breaking point.
"Linette!” He stopped to stare at her.” Linette?”
Clad in jeans and a pink T-shirt, she rushed into his arms.” Galan!”
He shook his head to clear it.” Stevie?”
She laughed, the breeze lifting her long blonde hair from her shoulders and molding her T-shirt to her breasts.” Galan, don't you recognize me?”
"Ah, yes, my Stevie!” He gathered her in his arms and kissed her long and hard.” I've waited a lifetime for you. Many lifetimes.”
They found a spot within the shade of wide oaks, where not even the sun could witness their lovemaking. She kicked off her moccasins and unzipped her jeans, then stepped out of them. With tantalizing slowness, she tugged the T-shirt over her head and unhooked her lacy bra, letting the garments fall to the ground.
She slipped her silk panties off and tossed them with the rest of her clothes. She stood before him naked, the loveliest sight he'd ever beheld, an image that rendered him speechless. His gaze took in her high, proud breasts, the flat belly, the entrancing curve of her hips.
His fingers fumbling, he drew off his tunic and untied his woolen braies, tossing them to the ground. His undergarment shoved aside, he laid his tunic on the leafy forest floor for her to lie on.
"Come, darling.” Galan eased her onto the warm ground and lay down beside her, amidst the shady foliage. He drew her into his embrace, all his restrained love and longing finding release in each shared kiss, each caress, every whispered endearment.
"I love you,” she murmured as she returned kiss for kiss, touch for touch.
"Dearest, I want you so much.”
"Then make me yours,” she said, “for all time, through all our lives together.”
Love and passion drove him on, and he couldn't have stopped if day had become night, if the world had ceased spinning, if the sun had burned to ashes.
He nuzzled her neck.” You're mine, forever.”
"Yes!”
Words no longer had any meaning as their rapture spiraled to an undreamed of pitch, ending all too soon in their cries of ecstasy.
"Linette,” he murmured after he kissed her softly on the lips.” My Linette.”
Indignation flashed in her eyes.” I'm not Linette! I'm Stevie!”
Stevie! Galan jerked awake. Pushing locks of hair from his forehead, he thought about Stevie, her blonde hair and blue eyes, every dear gesture, and how much she reminded him of Linette.
Of course!
Chapter Eight
But why now? Lifting the coffin lid, Galan considered all the years--almost a thousand! --that he'd roamed the earth. Why had he met this dear woman only now and not in a previous century? He drew the deadbolt back and stepped out of the closet, the answer bursting upon him. Perhaps the time wasn't right. He paused while he closed the door. The time wasn't right? What in Hades did that mean?
Every muscle tense, he gripped the doorknob. How much longer could he pretend to be a mortal? How much longer before Stevie would discover what he really was? The thought sickened him. Oh, he'd been brave enough when he'd assured Moloch that Stevie would never guess his true essence, but he didn't think he could keep his unspeakable secret from her much longer. Sooner or later, she'd discover what a monster he was. He slumped against the door. God, he prayed, please don't let it be sooner.
Seize the moment. With renewed energy, he moved about the room, slipping on a steel gray silk shirt and inserting the gold cufflinks from Harrods. He exchanged his black jeans for charcoal gray woolen trousers and stepped into black Ferragamo loafers. He'd make the most of every evening, every minute with her, for he never knew when their time together might end.
* * *
At Galan's side, Stevie left the movie theater and walked onto the parking lot. Under a sliver of a moon and a few bright stars brave enough to compete with city lights, they headed for Galan's Mercedes.
"What a balmy night,” Stevie said as she gazed up at the clear sky. A night made for love, and here she was with Galan. If only--A stiff wind molded her light blue sweater to her breasts and plastered her long rayon skirt to her legs, the filmy material tangling between her knees, hindering her movements. As she bent over to loosen her skirt, she caught his eyes on her, his look undeniably sensual. A rush of heat made her forget the cold, forget everything but this man's presence. If someone asked her what movie she'd just seen, she could no more have told them than she could have sprouted wings and flown.
His familiar scent whirled around her, that aroma of sandalwood that seemed as much a part of him as his dark hair or ebony eyes.
He opened the car door for her, then walked around to his side and slid in beside her.” I meant to ask you about your Christmas,” he said, starting the engine, “but holidays often slip past me, I fear.” He glanced her way.” Did you have a pleasant day?”
She set her purse on the seat between them. How could Christmas, of all days, slip past him?” The people I rent from invited me to spend the day with them. But since Christmas is for families, I didn't want to spoil their time together, especially when they don't see their kids that often. So I spent the day by myself. What about you?” She studied the unreadable lines and angles of his face.
"I spent it by myself, also.”
While he drove through the heavy traffic, she made small talk, unaware of her words, every thought on him. She admired his hands on the steering wheel, those long, expressive fingers. It seemed such a shame. They could have spent Christmas together.
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, observing his mouth, wondering what it would be like to have his lips on hers, those expressive hands on her body. She grew warmer, and an ache blossomed inside her, a fierce need to be in his arms, to have his body close to hers. She shifted her position, certain he could sense her desire.
They arrived at the Shipley mansion a short while later, where Galan parked in the curving driveway, a few yards from a newly-planted crepe myrtle tree. Christmas lights brightened the yard, revealing a mass of red poinsettias on the wide front porch. As she waited for him to open her door, she nervously twisted a long strand of hair around her index finger. She wanted him to kiss her, but would he? The pleasant ache mushroomed into full-blown desire as he held the door open for her, his gaze meeting hers. What did his look mean? Her imagination ran wild, every thought on those dark eyes, his intense expression, his firm yet gentle hands.
In meaningful silence, they walked hand in hand to the apartment, past the jacaranda tree whose branches whipped in a stiff wind. Her hanging orchid pots swung back and forth from the branches of the grapefruit tree, like monkeys on a jungle gym. A vast canopy of night sky stretched above them, studded with countless constellations.
All these things she took in with only a look. Galan's nearness, his strong fingers wrapped around hers, sent a rush of heat from her head to her toes and to every body part in between. She sensed a certain barbarism in him, waiting to escape but barely kept in check. The thought brought a smile to her face. His fingers caressed hers, her desire skyrocketing. Kiss me, Galan, she wanted to say as they reached her door. Let me know what it's like to have your arms around me, kissing me until I can't think of anything, anyone but you.
The moonlight shone on Galan's face, accentuating his paleness and casting silver lights on his hair. His eyes were darker than obsidian, his gaze as intense as a lion stalking its prey.
"Sweeting,” he murmured as he stopped to face her.
"Why do you call me that?” More than anything, she wanted his kisses, but his language confused her.” That's the second time you've used that word.”
He brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch light and gentle.” It's an old term, goes back hundreds of years. Yet it's how I think of you--sweet and lovely, everything a man could want in a woman. And I want you--"
Without another word, he swept her into his embrace, binding her to him, as if for all time. He pressed his mouth to hers in a kiss that took her by surprise, a kiss like nothing she'd ever known. She wrapped her arms around his neck, returning his kisses, aching to keep him by her side. If he wanted to make love to her now, on her front doorstep, or carry her into her bedroom, she could never refuse him.
His kiss deepening, her body became weightless, as if she floated in space. Good lord, his kisses! She was drowning in sensuous pleasure, caught in a floodtide of warm passion, floundering, like a ship lost in a hurricane. If only she could stay in his arms forever, become part of him and never leave his side. Time no longer had any meaning as he pressed her ever closer, their bodies melding as one. Time present blended with time past and time future.
He whispered her name again and again, sending a fresh rush of heat through her body and leaving her so weak she feared her legs couldn't hold her. A trail of kisses from her mouth to her jaw line sent her emotions spinning out of control.
Then he stopped, his lips pressed to a spot on her neck. He licked the spot, his teeth nibbling at her skin. A low growl erupted from deep in his throat, a savage sound that sent a jolt of alarm racing through her.
She felt his shoulders tense beneath her fingers.
"Galan . . . what is it?”
"No,” he moaned.” Oh, no!”
Slowly, he drew back and stared down at her, a look of agony twisting his handsome face. How could he stop now, just let her go?
"I must leave now,” he whispered.
"Leave, already?” Desolation twisted inside her.
"Stevie, I'm so sorry.” After one last embrace, he was gone down the walkway before she could ask him what troubled him. So quickly, she'd hardly had time to comprehend his words.
Chest heaving, Stevie grasped the doorknob as she watched him climb into his car and drive off. She stared at the Mercedes until the taillights disappeared around the corner. Her body throbbed as silent moments slid past. A cat screeched from the backyard next door, interrupting her troubled musings. What was the matter with him? She unlocked the door and stepped into the dimly-lit living room, where the sofa, chair and tables dwelt in shadow. She'd never known a guy like him, never in her life.
She slumped into a chair and unbuttoned her coat, then slipped off her slingbacks. Why bother dating him? No sense in going with a man so full of secrets you never knew what he thought or felt. A man whose actions often bordered on the bizarre. A man who always left her aching for more.
* * *
Mindful of his promise to Galan, Octavius headed for Schloss Omerau. How could he distract Moloch, make the fiend leave Galan alone? He scratched his chin, a plan forming in his mind. The more he thought about it, the better it sounded. But could he stand before Moloch without stammering or shaking? The demon had always terrified him.
Arriving at the castle in the early evening, he found Moloch at the long trestle table in the great hall, a flagon of wine and a crystal goblet half-full of burgundy in front of him. Moloch's skeletal fingers clutched the glass, as if it were the elixir of youth, his ticket to eternal happiness.
A gust of wind through the open windows sent the purple velvet draperies whipping away from the wall, the glass of the crystal chandelier tinkling, like a thousand miniature chimes. In contrast to the splendor of the room, a black feline reposed in a far corner as it daintily licked its paws, the bloody remains of a rat at its feet.
Clad in a long black robe and short leather boots, Moloch threw Octavius a sullen look. Octavius swallowed hard, his stomach knotting. With his perpetual frown and downturned lips, the master looked like a starving dog deprived of its last bone.
"What do you want this time?” Moloch said in a deceptively mild voice.
Octavius bit his bottom lip. This time?
Moloch slammed his hand down on the long wooden table, knocking the goblet over. The wine spilled across the table and onto the stone floor, where it formed a crimson puddle.
"What's the matter? Lost your tongue? Tell me what you want!”
Don't let him upset you. He's only a vampire, like you.” I don't want anything. But Morcar--"
"Morcar! That troublemaker!”
"My feelings exactly. It seems he's spreading rumors about you again--"
"Again?”
Octavius nodded.” As he did a couple of centuries ago. Back then, Galan stopped him with a threat, very convincingly, I assure you. Now, Morcar's saying you've been at this position too long, that you're too stuck in your ways. 'Your fossilized' thinking, I believe is the term he used.” A muscle twitched in his jaw. Had he gone too far?” Morcar believes he could do a better job as leader. So--"
Moloch half rose from his chair, his long, slender fingers clenched on the table edge. His mouth hissed steam.” Where did he say this?” Black, piercing eyes stared at Octavius as he sank back down.
The maverick's legs shook under his toga, and he took a deep breath.” At a recent party in Paris. Hundreds of nightstalkers attended, more than I could count. He made no secret of his opinions, going from one vampire to another, spreading his vicious lies.” Would the fiend believe him? Octavius forced himself to breathe evenly. After all, it was the truth.
Moloch sprang to his feet, the chair falling back on the stone floor, echoing like a clap of thunder in the room. He nodded with determination, his dark eyes flashing venom.” You leave him to me.” He snapped his fingers.” You're dismissed.”
* * *
On a cold, frosty morning a few days after the New Year, Stevie dragged out of bed, feeling tired and listless, wishing she had a thermometer. I don't feel like going to work today, she agonized as she slid her feet into her fluffy slippers and headed for the kitchen.
A short while later, after grabbing her beige slacks from the closet, she rested on bed. Forcing her legs into the slacks, she thought about Galan and their last date, his every smile, his kisses. She'd never figure him out, this guy with his moody personality, his secrets.
Her fingers trembled as she zipped her pants, then she headed for the chest of drawers to get her blue cotton sweater. Outside her window, she heard the rumble and whistle of the Florida East Coast Railway train in the distance. She pressed her hand to her throbbing head, hoping she'd make it through the day.
She tugged at the drawer, her fingers so stiff she could barely grasp the knobs. Damn, damn, damn! She tugged hard, sending a Lladro angel toppling. After checking the angel for nicks, she set it aside and tried again. One deep breath and a hard tug opened the drawer. She'd suffered from fatigue for months, and now this! For the past several weeks, she'd lost her appetite, and now her clothes hung on her like garments on a broomstick scarecrow. A rush of alarm chilled her arms and legs. She'd have to see a doctor.
