Edge of Twilight

Amber watched him as carefully as she would have watched a coiled cobra. He'd seemed stunned when she told him about her dream. She thought his shock was genuine.



"I'm not going to get you killed." The way he said it, she could almost believe he was trying to convince himself as much as her. "I swear, Alby, I'm not. I wouldn't do that."



She shrugged. "That's a funny way to put it."



"What is?"



"You said you wouldn't get me killed. I didn't say you got me killed in the dream, I said you gave me death."



"It's the same thing, isn't it?"



"I don't think so. Not exactly."



He lowered his head, pacing away from her. "Hell, how could I kill you, anyway? I don't even know if anything can kill you. You don't even know."



She shrugged. "Well, no, but I know what won't. Drowning, electric shock, poisons, sunlight. Blood loss makes me pretty helpless, but who knows if it would kill me or not? I would imagine burning or beheading-"



"Stop it!"



She smiled, because he looked shaken by the images she'd painted in his mind. Turning away from him, she spent a few minutes pounding the punching bag with hooks, jabs, crescent kicks and back kicks. She was showing off, and she thought he knew it. When she stopped for a breather, he stood aside, hands on his hips, watching her. He said, "Do your dreams always come to pass?"



She sent him a glance. "So far? Always." She gave the bag one last kick for good measure. "Walk me back to the house?"



"And give me a chance to attack?"



"I think I could take you."



"I wish you would."



She smiled slowly.



He said, "Why aren't you running away from me as fast as you can? I don't get it."



"Neither do I. Partly because I want to know what the dream means. And partly... " She lowered her eyes, not finishing the sentence.



"Yeah, partly that. That I understand."



She brushed the comment aside. "I want you to spend more time with the others. Get to know them a little."



"I'm a loner, Alby."



She tilted her head. "It's okay, Edge. They don't know about the dreams. No one does, except Will, and he doesn't know the content. Only that I dreamed about you."



He pursed his lips, lowered his head. "Besides, they're better mind probers than you are, right? They might pick up on my ulterior motives. That's why you really want to drag me back there, isn't it?"



"You weren't lying when you said you didn't trust anyone, were you?" She sighed heavily. "Hell, Edge, if that's what you think, it's fine by me. So long as you have nothing to hide, why do you care?"



He seemed to mull it over for a long moment. Then he brightened a bit. "What's in it for me?" he asked her.



She was surprised, but less so as she examined the spark in his eyes. "You mean I have to resort to bribery to get you to spend time with me?"



"I'll spend every night with you, Alby, if you want. But with those others? Yes, it requires compensation. So what will you give me?"



"What do you want?"



He smiled, an evil smile. She knew, right to the core of her, what he was going to say. Sex. Or blood. Or both. He wanted to take her, own her, possess her, drink her, and God help her, the idea heated her to the verge of meltdown.



"A kiss," he said then.



She blinked at him as her brain registered what he had said, and that it did not match what she had been expecting. "I'm sorry?"



"A kiss. I want one long, passionate, uninhibited kiss."



"You've already kissed me."



He shrugged. "Doesn't mean I won't do it again, but that's beside the point. I want you to kiss me."



She frowned at him. "And if I do, you'll come back to the house with me?"



"And stay until a quarter to dawn, if that's what you want. But it has to be a real kiss. No little peck. Kiss me like you mean it."



She wasn't sure she would be capable of kissing him and not meaning it, but she wasn't about to tell him that. "All right, it's a deal. Pucker up."



He wiggled his eyebrows at her and sat down on a bench that had probably once belonged in front of an organ. "Just so you can reach," he explained. "Without standing on tiptoe."



"Mmm-hmm." She moved to the bench and turned to sit beside him, but he stopped her, hands on her waist.



"No, no. Here, like this." He moved her sideways until she stood right in front of the bench, facing him. Then he slid his hands down her sides, over her hips. His fingertips touched her backside as he moved his hands lower, to her thighs, then downward to the hollow behind her knees. Then he tugged gently, so she moved closer, until his knees were between hers and his head was level with her breasts. Pulling on one knee until she bent it, he brought it up, over the bench, around him. Then he tugged at the other.



Amber put her hands on his shoulders, and moved the other leg where he wanted it. He pulled her down, until she sat on him, straddling him.



"There. That's better now, isn't it?" he asked her. His voice had gone soft, rough. She felt him getting hard underneath her. Her belly twisted, and she wanted to do a lot more than kiss him and wasn't even bothered by the fact that his hands had settled on the curve of her ass, so they could keep her hips imprisoned against his. He moved his hips a little, rubbing his erection against her. "Yeah, that's much better. Now kiss me."



Amber licked her lips. His eyes followed the motion. She lifted her palms to his cheeks, tipped his head up a little and lowered hers. He didn't close his eyes but left them open, and she couldn't seem to break the grip they had and close her own. Not until she pressed her mouth to his.



He did not kiss her. He remained still, passive and expectant. She moved her lips over his, opening and closing, adding a little suction that tugged them into her, and she liked that. She experimented then with her tongue, pushing his lips apart and slipping inside. She traced his lips with her tongue, tickled the roof of his mouth with it, then slid over his teeth. She felt his incisors, long and razor-sharp. Then she played with his tongue until she managed to elicit the response she'd been craving.



He closed his arms around her waist, and he kissed her in return. His fangs scraped her lip, and he lapped the taste of blood from the scratch. His fingers tangled in her hair, and he seemed intent on drinking her very soul from her lips and her mouth. That was how deeply he kissed her, how much he took.



When he finally lifted his head away the blood lust was raging so strongly in him that his eyes seemed to glow. Amber was breathless, panting, her heart pounding like the bass-line of a rap song. Her entire body shook and trembled, and she felt light-headed. She twined her arms around his neck and lowered her head to his shoulder, resting against him, waiting for the high voltage charge pulsing through her to fade away.



"Alby?" he asked.



"Hmm?"



"Is this another part of your... you know, abilities?"



She lifted her head slowly. "What?"



He seemed to be searching for the correct way to rephrase his question. "Have you kissed other men?" he asked, finally.



"Of course I've kissed men before." Boys, she thought. No men. Not really.



"Did they... did it... was it like this?"



"Like this?" She smiled at him, realizing it had been as mind-blowing for him as for her. But she wanted to hear him admit that, so she put on her most innocent expression and asked, "Like what?"



"Like what," he repeated, giving her a look that told her he knew exactly what she was doing. "Did their eyes roll back in their heads, doll? Did their tongues loll out to their knees? Did they go into core meltdown?"



The smile broke wide across her lips; she couldn't prevent it. "That's what it felt like to you, too?"



He thinned his lips, averted his eyes. "I didn't say that." Giving her a little nudge, he moved her off his lap, onto her feet, and got to his own. "Let's go, then." He flashed into motion, and before she could speak again, he was out the window, standing on the beach and waiting for her.



Amber went to the window, too, vaulted the sill and landed in a crouch, bouncing quickly upright again. She walked to where he stood, slid her hand into his, laced her fingers through his and began walking along the beach.



He looked down at their hands, a deep frown etching itself between his brows. It wasn't exactly one of dismay or dislike. More like... confusion.



"It's never been like that before, Edge. Never, not with anyone."



He pursed his lips. "Then again, that's not saying much, is it? Given your lack of experience, I mean?"



She looked up at him, and thought, You know better. It's got nothing to do with my virginity. There's something powerful here.



He pretended not to have heard her, though she knew he had. And together, they walked back to the house.



"I don't like this. I don't like it one bit," Morgan said softly. She was sitting in a chair on the patio, a notebook computer open on her lap. It painted her worried face in a soft electric blue glow. "Where is she, anyway? Not with that Sting wanna-be, is she?"



"Sting?" Dante asked. He sat nearby in a reclining lawn chair, beside a glass topped umbrella table. The umbrella, of course, was absent. It would have shaded them only from the moonlight. Sarafina sat beside him, and Willem was at the fourth spot.



"I don't think he looks anything like Sting," Amber said, tightening her hand around Edge's as she walked him up the redwood steps to the patio overlooking the beach. "Billy Idol, maybe?"



Everyone looked their way. She'd felt Edge stiffen just a little when they'd first come up and overheard the conversation. He hadn't relaxed, even when she'd turned Morgan's comment back on her.



Dante rose at their approach. "I'm afraid I don't know either reference." He smiled, nodding hello to them.



"It's just as well, since neither is accurate, anyway," Edge said. He glanced at Morgan, and at the laptop. "Bad news, I take it?"



She pursed her lips, shot a look at Amber.



"I'll probably tell him anyway," she said, interpreting Morgan's look correctly.



Morgan sighed. Sarafina said, "If Amber trusts him, we should, as well. She's the one in jeopardy, after all."



Edge lifted his brows. "What makes you think Alby's in danger?"



"Amber Lily is always in danger," Willem said. "She's one of a kind, Edge. Prize quarry for certain hunters."



"Like Frank Stiles," Amber explained in an aside. "That's who they're worried about."



"And now someone has leaked word that she's here, in Salem," Morgan said, and she speared Edge with her eyes when she said it. "It's all over the Internet."



"Well, don't look at me." Edge glanced from one of them to the other. "I'm not exactly a technophile."



"Edge doesn't even have electricity where he's been staying, much less an Internet connection." Amber tugged him by the hand to a thickly cushioned swing that hung from chains and a wood frame. She sat there, and he sank down beside her. She drew a breath. "So do you think Stiles has heard I'm here yet?"



"If he's alive, he's heard," Willem said softly. "I think you should leave, Amber Lily. Go down to Wind Ridge and join Rhiannon, Roland and your parents at Eric and Tarn's place."



Edge looked at Amber. "If Stiles knows where you are, will he come for you?"



She smiled slowly as she thought about her answer, then let the smile widen as it came to her in full. "There's not a doubt in my mind,'' she said. "And that's not necessarily a bad thing."



"Not a bad thing? In what world?" Morgan asked. "Amber, he had you once. You, of all people, should know what he's capable of."



Amber looked at her. "We need him," she said. "He might be our only chance of saving Will. If my being in Salem will bring him to us, then I should stay right here. Let him come. It'll save us the time and trouble of hunting him down. Frankly, if I'd thought of it, I'd have posted that information myself."



Will met Amber's eyes. "I'm not going to let you act as bait, Amber."



She shrugged, not holding his gaze. "If I were to go join the others at Wind Ridge, what makes you think I'd be any safer? What's to stop whoever leaked this information from leaking that, as well?"



She knew when she looked to Willem again and saw his jaw tighten that she'd scored a point. Dante said, "She has a point, Will. We can't be certain she's safe anywhere until we know who's spying on us and why."



Will nodded at the computer. "Can you track those posts back to the bastard who sent them?''



Rather than answering, Dante looked to Morgan. She nodded. "We can trace them back to the computer that sent them. Not necessarily the individual. And it'll take sometime."



"How long?" It was Edge who asked the question, and it rather surprised Amber that he was this interested.



"A day, maybe two. There's a tangled mess of screen names and identities to wade through, but I'll get there."



He nodded, then glanced at Amber. "Maybe they're right. Maybe you should go off to...Windy Hill or wherever that princess and the rest of your family are hiding out."



"Wind Ridge, and they aren't hiding out, Edge," she told him gently. "Rhiannon doesn't believe in it."



"Whatever. We could sneak you out of here quietly. As far as Stiles would know, you would still be here."



She tipped her head to one side, searching his eyes until he looked away. "You trying to get rid of me, Edge?"



He slanted her a look, maybe caught the teasing light in her eyes, sent her a wink. "Trying to keep you around, Alby. Alive and kicking."



She felt a little better, but she wasn't sure she believed him. It was odd, she thought, being so drawn to a man and second-guessing every word he said. "It doesn't matter," she told him. "I'm not leaving."



She eyed the others. "I'm as capable of defending myself as any of you, and you know it."



Will nodded slowly. "We know it."



"Then let's move on to another topic."



"Such as?" Dante asked, a little light of admiration in his eyes.



"Well... Stiles may be on his way here. We should plan for that, figure out what we intend to do about it."



"Wait for him," Sarafina said softly. "We won't have to do much more than that. He'll come to us."



Will shook his head. "He'll come to Amber. By day, more than likely, knowing she'll have less protection."



Edge frowned. "I hadn't... thought of that."



"It's how he did it last time," Will said. "Came for her by day, with half a dozen thugs, all of them armed." He shook his head. "I just don't know how to prepare you, Amber, to withstand an attack like that. But I think you should stick close to me by day. At least you won't be alone."



She lowered her head, looked away. "The two of us could kick the stuffing out of Stiles, Will." Then she added, "Besides, we aren't even sure he's still alive. There's no point in panicking."



"I've put tracers on his social security number," Morgan said. "If he's foolish enough to use it, I'll pick up any credit cards he might try to obtain or existing ones he might use, jobs he might take, vehicles he buys or tries to license, and just about anything else he does." She pursed her lips, shook her head. "Though if he is alive, he's managed to remain all but invisible for the past five years. Still, if he'thinks he's close to getting his hands on Amber again, he might get eager enough to slip up."



"I have more faith in the undead than I do in the computer," Dante said softly.



"What do you mean?" Edge asked.



Dante held his gaze steadily. "I've sent the message out to every vampire I could reach,'' he said. And Amber knew he was talking about a mental message, not a mass e-mail. "They know it's more important now than ever before to watch for Stiles, to contact us if he's spotted."



"Anything yet?" Amber asked.



He shook his head.



"I can keep an eye on the local hotels, inns, that sort of thing," Edge offered.



"There are dozens of them," Sarafina told him. She'd been uncharacteristically quiet, Amber thought, though she understood why. Her heart was breaking.



Edge only shrugged. "I'm a vampire. I can cover them in an evening."



"It's a good idea," Will said. "Stiles will need to stay somewhere, and he'll likely rush here without much prep time when he hears Amber is in town."



"Meanwhile, there's another problem we need to contend with."



"Another problem?" Amber searched Dante's face. "I can't imagine anything else dire enough to compete with Will's death sentence and Stiles's impending visit."



"Show her, Dante," Morgan said.



Dante's lips thinned, but he got to his feet and walked quickly down the steps and across the sloping lawn toward the shore. Amber followed him, Edge walking along beside her, his hands shoved into his jeans pockets. Waves rolled slowly, hypnotically over the rock and pebble strewn beach. Willem's small motorboat sat there, pulled up onto the beach. It had a rope extending from a metal ring on its nose to a large, darkly colored wooden post that had been driven deep into the ground. A tan-colored canvas covered it.



"Someone's been hunting in Salem," Dante said.



She bunked. "Hunting?" She wrinkled her nose, smelling something unpleasant and familiar.



Death.



The word whispered through her mind, and her heart turned over. The fear she always felt in the dream shivered through her soul.



Dante reached down, tugged the canvas back. Amber sucked in a breath when she saw the body lying there, turning her head away automatically.



"Hell," Edge muttered. "You might have warned her." His hands closed on Amber's shoulders as if to comfort her from the disturbing sight. But she sent him a look telling him she was all right and turned to take another look.



The woman lay in the bottom of the boat. She was in her fifties, gaunt and, of course, pale as porcelain. She wore a long black dress of sheer fabric over a satin underskirt. The sleeves had draping points at their ends. Her throat, Amber noted, bore two small punctures, right over the jugular.



She turned around again, staring at Edge, and realized Dante was doing the same.



•He lifted his brows and his hands. "Why are you looking at me?"



Amber frowned, wishing she knew what he was thinking just then, but his thoughts were guarded.



"Sure," Edge went on. "Blame the new guy. This is Salem, for Chrissakes. It's probably crawling with vampires."



Blinking slowly, Amber turned to Dante again. "What was she dressed up for?"



"I don't know. I found her when I was in town earlier tonight, just getting the lay of the land. Smelled her and homed in. She was underneath a pier, lying on the rocks. No identification, no other marks."



"How long ago was she killed?"



"Last night sometime. No one's been reported missing-not yet, anyway."



Amber pressed her lips tight. Edge said, "Why did you drag her back here, anyway?"



Dante's face darkened, and Amber spoke before he could. "We can't have bloodless bodies with fang marks in their throats showing up in Salem, Edge. Do you know what the media would do with a story like that? It would be an open invitation to every vampire hunter in the country."



"In the world," Dante said. "You're a loner, aren't you? One of those solitary vamps who shuns his own kind?"



Edge shrugged, reaching down to tug the canvas back over the body. "I don't shun them. Don't seek them out, either."



"Until now," Dante said.



Edge met his eyes. "If you want to accuse me of something, stop dancing around it and step up."



Dante held his temper, in spite of the clear challenge Edge had laid down. "We don't kill humans."



"We? What, you're speaking for me now? You don't kill humans, Dante. I do what I damn well please."



Dante's eyes narrowed, and his fists clenched. Edge leaned in a little closer, and Amber stepped between the two, pressing a hand to each powerful chest. "That's enough. Dante, if Edge says he didn't kill that woman, then he didn't. Let it go."



She was all too aware, though, that Edge hadn't said any such thing.



"You could do with some manners," Dante muttered. He turned away, heading back toward the house. "Who the hell sired you, anyway? Satan?''



"He didn't stick around long enough to give me his name," Edge shot back. "But according to local legend, it was O'Roark."



Dante stopped walking, stood stock-still in the sand. "Donovan O'Roark?"