All Their Midnights, page 6
Standing behind me, Oliver smiled and placed his hands on my shoulders.
“I think I understand what you mean.” I reached for his hand and caressed it with my manicured fingertips. “No one would ever suspect we’re vampires, except that you’re weird, that is.”
“Do you really think I’m weird?” He handed me the keys to the motorcycle before mounting behind me.
“Incredibly.”
“Thank you.” He sounded genuinely pleased, and I lifted my gaze to the moon before tearing out of the parking lot.
We tested my new image at an elegant restaurant. Terrified of failing, I sat frozen on the bike for a moment. Oliver took my hand, and escorted me inside where the hostess guided us to a corner table. The way she spoke to me and the appreciative glances from other people lifted my confidence. They saw an attractive, well-dressed, educated woman, not a cheap-looking high school dropout turned blood sucker.
Across the table, Oliver studied his menu, his pale hair brushing his forehead. It struck me that although I had given him my blood, he had given me far more in return.
“Oliver.” I gazed at him, tracing a fingertip over the rim of my wine glass.
He glanced up at me, his beautiful blue gaze meeting mine. “Yes?”
“Where do you live?”
After dinner, he brought me across town to the renovated warehouse that he called home. Drapes darkened the few windows of the tall brick building. We entered by a side door. Despite the summer heat outside, a chill darted through me when we stepped into the cool hallway.
Inside consisted of a few small rooms and a vast main room with impossibly high ceilings. He explained that it had once been the loading dock. Now it had a polished wood floor. A tangle of wires hung from the ceiling, reachable by thick black ropes dangling from metal beams. Several heavy and speed bags scattered about the room, and one wall held an assortment of swords, staves, and other exotic weapons. The only articles of furniture were a black pot-bellied stove, a bookcase, and a black sectional couch on the wall opposite the weapons collection. At the far corner of the room, a stairway led up to a glass-encased room—formerly an office—overlooking the main room. Even from down here, I saw a dresser and a bed covered in a simple white comforter.
A vision of the two of us entangled in that bed made my heartbeat quicken.
“Has anyone ever told you that you have an abnormal obsession with violence?” I tossed him a mocking glance and approached the wall of weapons. Some looked familiar, since he’d taught me how to use them during training sessions.
“Choose one.” He motioned toward the weapons.
I reached for my favorite, a rapier I’d used often over the past months.
He grasped a matching sword and attacked before I had a chance to think, but he had trained me to react without thought. We traded blows across the slick wooden floor. His eyes glistened like spectral lights in the darkness. The clash of steel echoed in the vast room. His unfaltering strength challenged me each time our blades met, and I knew that he no longer restrained himself when we fought. More than that, I was no longer afraid.
Our weapons locked along with our gazes. Battle rage and sexual desire shone in his eyes, reflecting my feelings. Hissing, animal-like, I bared my fangs in a primitive mating gesture innate in our kind. This time, I wanted him to take more than my blood.
His eyes narrowed in momentary question before he responded in kind to my advance. His lips drew back, revealing his gleaming, wolfish teeth.
We discarded our weapons before he drew me into his arms and covered my mouth in a possessive kiss. Closing my eyes, I grasped his hair and pressed my body to his. Past abuse flashed through my mind, and I shoved him away. He immediately drew back, though his hands still rested lightly on my waist.
His steady, loving gaze comforted me, and I locked my arms around his neck. He hugged me close.
“I’ve never felt his safe with anyone,” I whispered. “I’ve never had a family to speak of, but you’ve been like a father to me.”
He drew a sharp breath.
Concerned, I moved back just enough to meet his gaze. “What’s wrong?”
He gently touched my face. “It’s almost sunrise. I need to get some sleep.”
“If you’re not feeling well, you can take my blood.”
He shook his head. “Not now. You’re welcome to stay here today.” He walked toward the stairs that led to his bedroom.
Something had just happened, but I couldn’t figure out what. He’d gone from clearly aroused to wanting to go to sleep. It made no sense, yet I knew Oliver’s moods well enough to realize that questioning him would get me nowhere at the moment.
He undressed to his black briefs and settled beneath the sheets. I stripped to my panties, but other than a casual glance, he paid little attention to me. Still, when I slipped into bed beside him, he placed an arm around me, and I rested my cheek against his chest.
A short time later, the rhythm of his heart lulled me to sleep.
* * *
That night, I felt his gaze on me as surely as I felt the moon rise. Rolling onto my back, still warm from sharing his bed, I gazed at him. He’d already dressed in a classic black suit—an odd contrast to his steel-toe boots.
Smiling, I raised myself on my elbows. “I’m not used to seeing you this early, but I’ve always been curious. What exactly do you do when you’re not training with me?”
“I think it’s time you found out.”
His words intrigued me. While I dressed in my new black pants and form-fitting turtleneck, I pressured him to elaborate.
“I won’t tell you. You need to see.” He approached with a brush. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the sensation of him brushing my hair.
“You know I’m impatient.”
He chuckled softly. “We’ve been working on that, haven’t we?”
I gave a little laugh, too. “Yeah, but we haven’t mastered the lesson yet.”
He twisted my hair into a French braid. I wondered why he knew how to style a woman’s hair, but I guess in a thousand years he’d had a lot of lovers.
He didn’t say anything else, even when we walked side-by-side down the city streets. He led me out of the more respectable section and closer to the shabby part of town where I lived.
“Slumming again tonight, Ollie?”
“Quiet.” He held up his hand, his brow knitted. “Listen. Concentrate.”
“On what?”
“Our senses are keener than those of mortals. We see, hear, and smell our prey. Like animals.”
“So?” I skipped ahead and walked backward so I could face him. “There’s prey all around us. We don’t have to work hard. Now if we were country vampires, then maybe—”
He stopped abruptly. I paused beside him, tilting my head and narrowing my eyes to focus better.
“Smell that, Rene? Fear. Excitement.”
I inhaled deeply. He was right. The strong scent of several nearby vampires permeated the air.
Voices.
Laughter.
Weeping.
“Stay behind me,” he whispered.
We followed the voices to an alley behind a shabby club. The throb of muffled music leaked through the deteriorating walls. It kept time with the jagged, brutal motions of three filthy, hulking men using knives to slice the clothes off a willowy, spike-haired guy in a black fishnet tank and skintight jeans. Mascara streaked his angular face. The scent of his desperation knotted my stomach. I gasped at his attackers’ savage, fanged smiles.
The vampire gang toyed with their mortal victim before moving in for the kill. This disgusted me because even when hungry, we didn’t require enough blood to kill a healthy person. Like most gluttons, vampires who overindulged usually ended up sick.
Monsters like these guys killed for pleasure, not for nourishment. It was just a power trip to them.
The terrified guy tried to flee, but one of the bastards tripped him with a booted foot. He landed face-down on the pavement. Dazed, he raised his head, blinking through the blood dripping from his gashed brow. His terror-filled gaze met mine. I momentarily stopped breathing. It was like seeing the worst parts of my life reflected in his expression. The urge to run from the alley, the fight, and my fear almost overcame me.
Before I could bolt, Oliver lunged forward. He grasped the arm of the closest bully and spun, smashing him face-first into the gaping mouth of a shark painted on the brick wall of the club.
The other two immediately rushed to help their friend, and their victim took the opportunity to crawl out of the alley on bleeding palms, his twisted ankle dragging behind him.
Grasping his thin wrists covered in black jelly bracelets, I pulled him to the sidewalk and out of view of the monsters that now focused on Oliver.
I peered from around the front of the club, my fists clenched. Oliver fought with more skill than these vamps, but they didn’t have his handicap—the disease. Since they had just fed, they were at the peak of their strength.
The heaviest of the three caught Oliver’s slender form in a crushing grasp. The others flew at him, fangs bared and knives poised to kill.
Forgetting my fear, I pulled from my boot the dagger Oliver had recently given me and leapt into the alley.
The steel toe of Oliver’s boot crushed the temple of one beast at almost the same moment my blade plunged into another’s back. I pulled it out and drove it in again, just missing my target’s flailing elbow. By the time I glanced at Oliver, he had freed himself from his captor and used his dagger to pierce the man’s heart. He destroyed the unconscious one just as calmly while I stood there, panting, my hands doused in blood and my heart pounding with a combination of fear, excitement, and fury.
“You are crazy!” I gnashed my teeth at him.
“That’s not what you said on the night we met.”
I lowered my gaze, recalling how he’d not only saved my life, but changed it for the better.
Side-by-side, we left the alley. The young guy we’d helped had disappeared, probably into the club to call for help—not that I blamed him. Oliver and I would be gone long before the cops arrived—if they showed at all.
We kept to the shadows for several blocks. I’m not sure why every police siren made me jump. It wasn’t like they’d have a chance of catching us, even if they searched.
“Why did you do that? Look for trouble?” I asked.
“After my family was killed, I spent a lot of time learning to fight, but it was only after I became immortal that I realized no matter how many people I hurt or how powerful I became, I wouldn’t stop hating. The one who made me a vampire didn’t fight or kill. He’s a scientist. A strange profession back then. His viewpoint and hopes for the future got him in trouble more often than not. He was always trying to discover new ways to improve life for mortals and immortals alike. I learned so much from him.”
“Is he the one who’s been working on a cure for you?”
Oliver nodded. “There’s so much about him I admire. I wanted to be like him, but I was certainly not cut out for science. I couldn’t stay still long enough or shut myself up studying books and experiments all the time.” He cast me a tender smile. “Your impatience is a trait I share.”
This surprised me. I’d fallen into the habit of thinking that Oliver had few faults and was instantly good at everything he did. Sometimes I forgot that he’d been around for a thousand years.
“I was too accustomed to soldiering,” he continued. “So I decided to use the skills I’d developed not for political causes, but to help those in need.”
“So that’s why you’ve become a fanged vigilante?” I tried to keep the irritation from my voice. “Now that you’ve taught me everything you know, I suppose you expect me to do the same?”
He stopped walking and placed his hands on my shoulders. Our gazes met. “I don’t expect anything from you. Everything between us has been a fair trade.”
His words stung like a slap, but somehow I stayed cool. Shrugging off his hands, I glanced away. “Sure. That was our deal.”
“Yes, it was.”
We continued walking. When we reached his home, I realized it was the last place I wanted to be. I couldn’t face another chaste night in his bed when I wanted to make love until sunrise.
“Do you need my blood? Your face is bruised from fighting.” Heaven knew what injuries were hidden under his clothes.
He shook his head.
“Then I’m going home.”
“I’ll give you a ride.”
“No thanks. I don’t want any favors tonight.” I stalked off without looking back.
* * *
Two nights later, just after moonrise, Oliver tapped on my apartment door. I’d missed him so much, but I was still a little angry, more at myself than at him. He’d given me valuable skills and taught me not just how to survive, but to thrive with self-respect. If I was any kind of a human being, I’d do for someone else what he’d done for me, but it wasn’t in my nature to turn vigilante, not when all I’d ever wanted was to live in peace.
I took a few seconds to calm myself before opening the door. “Where have you been, Ollie—”
He pushed me against the wall, his hard chest pressing against my breasts and his lips hovering over mine. His unusually aggressive behavior took me off guard. Though I could have slipped from his grasp, the desire in his eyes aroused me.
I tilted my head slightly, exposing my throat, and gazed at him through my lashes. He rained gentle kisses along my neck, sending little thrills through me that raised goose bumps on my skin.
“Rene.” His gaze, full of hunger and deep affection, met mine. “I need you.”
“I’m yours, Oliver.” Closing my eyes, I cupped the back of his head and, eager for his bite, tugged his face toward my neck.
This bite was different from the others. He exuded such desperate passion that my body turned to liquid in his embrace. The sensation of his teeth in my flesh made me moan. My lower belly tightened and heat pooled between my legs. I wanted to feel as much of him as possible, and by the way he clung to me, moaning, he felt the same. This time he would finally make love to me, as both a vampire and a man.
Gasping, he drew back, his neck arched and his lips tinged glossy red with my blood. He licked it away with an enticing swipe of his tongue.
I clung to him, my fingers biting into the sculpted muscles of his back.
He leaned toward me again and whispered in my ear, “I have something for you.”
Oh, yes. It’s about time!
“Come with me.” He opened the door.
Damn. He wasn’t about to take me to bed.
Sighing, I followed him outside to a gorgeous black and white motorcycle parked at the curb.
“When did you get this?” I asked, admiring the bike.
He extended his hand. Keys dangled from his fingertips. “It’s yours.”
“No way. I can’t.” This had nothing to do with our deal. I’d accepted education because he felt it was part of my training. I took the clothes because…what can I say? It’s a rare girl who’d refuse a new wardrobe. Taking a bike that probably cost more than I’d made at various jobs over the past several years was altogether different.
“At least take it for a ride.”
Unable to resist, I mounted and glided down the street, the wind cool on my face.
When I returned, Oliver was gone.
Maybe he was in my apartment. I hurried upstairs to find a note taped to my door.
What was he up to now? What weird lesson?
I opened the envelope and read the note inside.
I have nothing left to teach you. The second key on the ring belongs to my house, which is now yours, though these gifts are nothing compared to the ones you’ve given me.
My eternal love,
Oliver
Panic momentarily overtook me, followed by emptiness and dread.
This had to be a joke, or maybe another test, since Oliver didn’t have much of a sense of humor.
I hurried outside, mounted the bike, and sped to his home. Numbly, I unlocked the door and stepped inside.
Most of his belongings remained, but his clothes, wallet, and a few other personal items were gone.
Standing in the center of the vast room, tears running down my face, I ripped the note to pieces with my trembling, manicured hands.
* * *
Over the following months without Oliver, I only returned to my dingy apartment to retrieve a few random belongings. I moved into Oliver’s home, hoping he would return, but knowing he never would.
Anger and sorrow filled every waking moment. The only way to relieve these torturous feelings was to use the skills he’d taught me as he’d intended me to use them. I didn’t realize this immediately, though.
The first time I sensed the terror and excitement of a violent assault, I rebelled against my desire to intervene. Oliver had broken my heart, and I didn’t want to do anything he’d approve of, but he had known me too well. He’d known long before I did that I couldn’t refuse the opportunity to punish those fiends like the ones who had once violated me. He had given me a power over men, both mortal and immortal, and I couldn’t deny it.
Every night when I returned to the empty warehouse after feeding and fighting, I would curl up on his bed and long for the comfort of his embrace. His gentleness had done what the violence of other men never could. He had touched my soul.
One night, so close to dawn that I already sensed the impending sunrise, a stranger entered the warehouse.
Dressed in a tailored black and white suit from our shopping spree months ago, I tiptoed down to the main room. I gripped my favorite fighting staff that I always kept near the bed.
The power of another vampire—something I now recognized instantly—filled the room. I tensed. Who was it?
He moved rather noisily for a trespasser. Tall and slim with dark hair, he wandered around. I lunged at him, striking him hard between the legs. He doubled over and stared up at me, his round face etched with pain.
