Deeper than the Night

Kara woke slowly, unwilling to surrender the beautiful dream she'd been having. And then she felt Alexander's breath caress her neck, felt the welcome weight of his leg lying across hers, the heat of his palm curved over her breast, and she knew it hadn't been a dream at all.



Turning her head, she saw Alex sleeping beside her. Thick black lashes lay upon his cheeks. His lips, full and sensuous, were slightly parted. She watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, marveling anew at the width of his shoulders. Just looking at him was enough to make her heart beat fast, make her yearn to touch him, to run her fingers over his chest and feel the smooth warmth of his skin. How strong and handsome he was! And how much she loved him, this man from a distant planet.



Two hundred years, she thought. He had been on earth for two hundred years. The things he must have seen, the changes, the wars, the advancements in science and medicine, and yet how infantile it all must seem to him. His people had achieved space travel in a time when her ancestors were still commuting by horse and buggy.



Two hundred years, and in all that time, he had been alone. She ached for him, ached in the deepest reaches of her heart and soul, as she tried to imagine what it had been like for him, a stranger in a strange world, afraid to reveal the truth of who he was, afraid to trust those around him, forced to live forever in the shadows.



The curve of his jaw tempted her touch and she traced the outline with her fingertip.



"I'll make it up to you," she whispered. "I don't know how, but I will. I promise."



"Make what up to me?"



His voice, low and husky with sleep, startled her. "You're awake," she exclaimed softly.



He made a soft sound of assent as he opened his eyes. Placing one hand behind her head, he drew her closer, claiming her lips with his. "What are you going to make up to me, Kara?"



She shook her head as she felt a faint blush creep into her cheeks. "Nothing."



His lips nibbled at her ear. "Tell me."



"I was thinking how awful it must have been for you these past two hundred years, living alone, needing . . . someone to love . . . ." She took a deep breath, embarrassed that he had overheard her words. "I . . . I want to make you forget all those lonely years and . . ." Her gaze slid away from his. It sounded so silly when spoken aloud.



"Go on," he coaxed softly.



"I want to make you happy, Alex."



"You already make me happy."



"Do I?"



Nodding, he trailed his fingertips down her cheek. "More happy than I've ever been in my life."



"I'm glad."



Needing to touch him, she ran her hands over his shoulders, then slid her arms around his waist and hugged him close. Restless with wanting him, she caressed his back, her fingertips exploring the ridge of flesh along his spine. It didn't repel her now. It was a part of him, a part of who and what he was.



And it was all so incredible.



She knew so little about him, about his past, she was suddenly filled with questions. "Is Alexander the name you were born with?"



He shook his head. "I was named HeshLon, after my paternal grandfather."



"HeshLon." She repeated the name, liking the sound of it. "Where did the name Alexander Claybourne comefrom?"



"The phone book," he said with a wry grin.



"I like HeshLon," she said. "It suits you. Tell me, what are houses like where you come from? Do your people sleep in beds and cook on stoves?"



Alex grinned, surprised it had taken her curiosity so long to emerge. "Yes, natayah, we sleep in beds and cook on stoves, although our stoves are powered by our sun rather than electricity. Our houses are very similar to yours in design and function, although they're built of different materials."



"Like what?"



"They're made of a kind of, I don't know, plastic brick, I guess you'd call it. It warms our houses in the winter, and cools them in the summer.".



"Really? That's amazing." She sat up, her curiosity building. "Is your food the same as ours?"



"In a way." Sitting up, he put his arm around her shoulders and drew her up against him. "We have fruits and vegetables and a kind of bread. Our animals are also much the same as yours," he went on, anticipating her next question. "We have four-legged beasts and birds and insects, and animals that produce milk. Some are used for food, although meat is eaten sparingly on ErAdona."



"What did you do before you came to earth? Did you have a job?"



"I was what you would call a mining engineer."



"Really? What did you mine?"



"An ore similar to uranium. It's very rare, and very valuable."



"Are there others of your kind here?" she asked, wondering why the thought hadn't occurred to her before.



"Not to my knowledge."



"Is there any way you can contact your people?"



"No."



A sigh rose from deep within him; for a moment, she saw a lingering trace of sadness in his eyes.



"I'm sorry, Alex."



His arm tightened around her shoulder. "It doesn't matter anymore," he said quietly.



The words, the unspoken implication that she was enough for him, filled Kara's heart with warmth. "I love you, Alex."



"I know."



"Reading my mind again?"



"No. I can see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice, feel it in your touch."



He smiled at her, a wave of tenderness sweeping through him. The two hundred years of loneliness and exile had been worth it, he thought, worth every second for this time in Kara's arms. Gladly would he have waited two hundred more to find the love and acceptance he had found in her arms. Her love humbled him, made him weak with gratitude.



He laughed softly as he heard her stomach rumble. "You're hungry," he remarked.



"Yes."



"Let'sget you something to eat then."



"Will you eat with me?"



"If you like."



Thirty minutes later, Kara stood at the stove preparing ham and scrambled eggs. Alex sat on the floor. She could feel his gaze on her back. She had heard that phrase a thousand times, and it had been nothing more than words. But she really could feel his gaze moving over her, soft, warm, as tangible as a caress.



"Would you tell me something?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder.



"If I can."



"Is this where you landed when you were sent here?"



"No. They set me down high in the Black Hills."



"What did you do? How did you survive?"



Alexander frowned, remembering. "The team that brought me here left me enough supplies to last a season, as well as a weapon to defend myself and tools with which to build a shelter. I hid my supplies, and explored my new world. The touch of the sun was a torment beyond belief, and I soon learned to avoid it. There were no white people to speak of on the land back then, just Indians.



"I watched them from a distance, fascinated by their primitive lifestyle. In many ways, they reminded me of my ancient ancestors.



"I'd been here less than a week when I got deathly ill. I thought I was going to die. I know now that it was my body's reaction to a new environment. I was adjusting to the violent change in the atmosphere, the food, the water.



"The Indians found me and took care of me. I was sick for several days."



"What did they think about the flesh on your back?"



"They thought it a strange sort of tattoo. When I recovered, they indicated I was welcome to stay, and I agreed. I had no wish to be alone in this strange place. I quickly learned their language, their ways."



He paused while she filled two plates and handed him one. She offered him a cup of coffee, as well, then sat down beside him, her back to the wall.



"Go on."



Alex stared at thefood on his plate. He had no appetite, no need for food at this time. Still, he took a bite because she had cooked it for him, because he didn't want to hurt her feelings.



"Time passed quickly. Everything was new to me and I had much to learn. I stayed with the Indians for almost fifteen years, a part of their village, yet never really a part of them. They thought it strange that I left my lodge only at night, that I refused to take a wife. The shaman explained that my idiosyncrasies were to be accepted, that I had been touched by the Great Spirit. In truth, I stayed inside during the day because I could not tolerate the sun. I didn't take a wife because I was afraid of contaminating her, afraid of what might happen if an earth woman became pregnant with my child."



Alex stared at the eggs congealing on his plate. There had been a woman he cared for, a woman he might have loved had he let himself. But he had turned away from her, and she had married another.



"Gradually, it became evident to the others, and to me, that I wasn't aging. I was never sick. Wounds healed quickly and left no scar. Once, I was captured by the Crow, along with several other warriors. They threw us in a hole, covered it with a bearskin, and left us there for three weeks without food or water. The other men weakened and died. When it became evident that I wasn't going to die, the Crow medicine man declared thatI was wakan _holy_and they took me back to the Lakota. The people I had lived with shunned me after that. They thought I was an evil spirit, and so I was banished once again. ..."



It was a story that had replayed itself over and over again. He had found a place he liked, settled down for a short time, then left before people began to wonder why he didn't grow older. At first, he had sought the company of others until he realized it was practically impossible to be sociable without becoming involved. In the end, he had cut himself off from any close association with others.



For a time, he had traveled. It was during that time that he had gained an appreciation for the people of Earth. In spite of their inability to live together in peace, they had erected some marvelous monuments, created some of the most beautiful paintings and sculptures he had ever seen, built breathtaking cathedrals. And the earth itself was a beautiful place, more verdant than his home world.



But always, no matter how far he traveled, he returned to the place where his people had left him, hoping, perhaps, that someday someone would come back for him. And when even that hope died, he had turned to writing, living and loving vicariously through the fictional characters he created.



Kara put her plate aside, her appetite forgotten, saddened by the loneliness that had crept into his voice as he recounted the long, lonely years of his life.



"Are you truly immortal then?" she asked, and realized that she had asked that question once before.



"Everything dies, sooner or later." He smiled at her as he placed his plate on top of hers. In the beginning, the changes in his body had been terrifying; his increased sense of smell and sight and hearing had confused him. His physical strength and stamina were far greater than they had been on ErAdona.



"When I left the Indians, I came here, to this mountain. I built this place using the tools I had buried earlier. I've lived all over the world since then, but I always come back here, to this place." It was home, he thought, or as close to a home as he'd had since he'd been banished from ErAdona. "I've upgraded the furnishings from time to time." He grinned at her as he glanced around. "I guess it's time to refurbish again."



She smiled back at him, but it was a sad kind of smile.



"Kara, you needn't pity me."



"I don't, really. I admire you. I mean, at first it must have taken a great deal of courage, of fortitude, just to survive. And later, as time passed . . ." She shrugged. "I remember watching a vampire movie where one of the vampires said it took a special kind of person to be one of the undead, to stay the same while everything else changed."



Alex nodded. It was true. It had been hard, watching the world change, watching people die, while he went on, and on. But none of that mattered any more.



Kara had brought new meaning to his life, given him a reason to live, hope for the future.



Rising, she refilled her coffee cup, then sat down beside Alex again. "When did you start to write?"



"I'm not sure. Seventy, eighty years ago. Of course, I've had to change publishers and pseudonyms from time to time," he added with a wry grin.



"Yes," Kara said, grinning back at him, "I would think so. Was being a writer something you always wanted to do?"



"No. It was just a way to pass the time. Writing's a solitary profession, something I could do without any interference from anyone else. I've never met any of my agents, or my editors. All my business dealings have been done by mail and an occasional phone call." He laughed softly. "The fact that I don't do book signings, and that I refuse to have my picture taken has added to themystique of A. Lucard."



"I guess I've been quite a hindrance to your writing, haven't I? I'm probably keeping you from a deadline."



"It doesn't matter."



"You don't have to entertain me, you know. You could spend your days writing if you want." She smiled shyly. "As long as you save your nights for me."



Alex laughed softly. "My nights will be yours, natayah, arid my days, for as long as you want them."



His words brought a blush to her cheeks, and he thought how beautiful she was.



"Have you always written about vampires and werewolves and the like?"



"No. Originally, I wrote science fiction. You know, space ships and alien invaders." He grinned, remembering. "And then I saw Bela Lugosi in Dracula and realized for the first time how similar my lifestyle was to that of your vampires."



"I can't wait to tell Gail that you're from another planet. She'll be thrilled."



"You can't tell her, Kara. You can't tell anyone."



"But she'd be thrilled to death. She's always been so certain that flying saucers were for real. She wouldn't tell anyone."



Alex shook his head. "It's a risk I can't take."



"I understand." Leaning over, she kissed his cheek, then gathered up the dishes and carried them into the kitchen.



Alex watched her wash and dry the dishes, hoping she really did understand. One word, the slightest suspicion that he was from another planet, and they would never know another peaceful moment. They would be hounded, hunted, until he was captured. He'd had two hundred years to witness man's inhumanity to man, two centuries of watching whole cultures destroyed because they were different, because they had stood in the way of wealth or progress. During that time, he had seen countless men like Dale Barrett, men who were willing to sacrifice their honor, their integrity, for the promise of fame and fortune.



He had no desire to be a stepping stone for Barrett's rise to celebrity and glory.



That evening, they went for a walk. Alex carried a long, narrow implement that he explained was like a chain saw, only more refined. They were going to cut down a tree, he said, and the tool in his hand would not only fell the tree, but cut the lumber to the length and thickness he required.



"Do you have any more gadgets like that?"



"A few."



He didn't elaborate, and she didn't ask, but she knew it was with the use of other tools from home that he had cut the windows into the mountain and fashioned the glass. No doubt other alien technology lit the entrance to the cavern.



The woods were beautiful at night. Hand in hand, they walked through the moon-dappled night until Alex found a tree he considered suitable. Kara watched in awe as he attached the object in his hand to the base of the tree.



Thirty minutes later, the tree was at their feet, cut into a dozen workable pieces. He shouldered the wood with ease and carried it up the hill, dumping it in the yard alongside the cavern.



Kara shook her head, amazed by his strength. He'd carried the load up the hill as though it weighed nothing at all, and he wasn't even breathing hard.



Alex turned to find her staring at him. "What's the matter?"



"Nothing." She grinned. "I was just thinking that I used to dream of Prince Charming carrying me away on a horse. Instead, my true love is a combination of the Highlander and Superman."



Alex grinned back at her. "Are you complaining?"



"Oh, no. I think it's wonderful. I mean, talk about a girl's fantasies coming to life."



He grunted in wry amusement. "Is that what I am? A fantasy?"



"No. You're the best reality I've ever known."



He pulled her into his arms and nuzzled her shoulder, and then, laughing softly, he raked his teeth along the side of her neck. If he was really a vampire, now would be the perfect time for a midnight snack.



"What's so funny?" Kara asked.



"Nothing. How about a bath?"



Kara drew back and frowned up at him. "Is that your subtle way of telling me I stink?"



Alex shook his head. "Maybe it's my not-so-subtle way of trying to get you out of your clothes."



"Oh." She slid her gaze from his, grateful for the darkness that hid the flush she felt climbing into her cheeks.



"That hot spring I mentioned isn't far from here." He reached into his pocket, withdrawing a bar of soap he'd picked up on their way out of the cavern. "Shall we?"



The spring was located within a copse of ancient pine trees and lacy ferns. It was like a fairy place, Kara mused. The water glistened like a pool of molten silver in the full light of the moon; the grass was soft beneath her feet.



For all that they had spent the previous night making love, she couldn't help feeling a little shy as they sat down at the edge of the pool.



Her heart began to pound erratically as Alex removed his shirt and reached for his belt buckle.



"Kara?"



"Hmmm?"



He gestured down the mountain. "Would you rather I waited for you down there?"



"No, it's just . . . no."



Sensing her uneasiness, he turned his back, peeled off his Levi's, and slid soundlessly into the pool.



"Why don't you wear underwear?" She clapped a hand over her mouth, but it was too late to call back the words.



Alex turned in the water, head cocked to one side as he regarded her.



"I didn't mean to ask that," she said, wishing she could disappear under a rock.



"You can ask me anything you wish. The people of ErAdona wear very little in the way of clothing. Our men usually wear loose shirts and trousers made of finely woven cloth. The women wear long gowns of a material similar to your silk. No one wears anything underneath." He made a vague gesture. "Even after two hundred years, it's a habit I find hard to break."



Kara nodded, mesmerized by the sight of him. The water caressed his broad shoulders. The moonlight shimmered in his hair. She could feel the heat of his gaze as he waited for her to join him. She took a deep breath. "Don't watch me." With a nod, Alex turned his back, but he didn't have to see her to know how she looked, what she was doing. He could hear the muted brush of cloth over her skin as she removed her sweater, her shoes and socks, her jeans. There was a faint whisper of nylon and lace as she slipped off her panties and bra, followed bya faint splash as she stepped into the water. A change in the wind carried her scent to his nostrils and he took a deep breath, inhaling her fragrance.



He moved to deeper water, then turned to face her, his breath catching in his throat as he saw her standing before him, clad in water and moonlight.



"You are so beautiful, natayah," he murmured.



"Am I?"



Alex nodded. She looked like the ErAdonian goddess of fertility. He watched the color rise in her cheeks, felt his blood thicken as his body grew heavy with desire.



"Kara . . ."



She couldn't speak, could hardly breathe, as he moved toward her. Unable to draw her gaze from his, she waited, her heart pounding wildly in her breast. Tall and broad-shouldered, roguishly handsome, he cut smoothly through the water, the heat glowing in the depths of his eyes hotter than the bubbling spring.



And then his hands were on her shoulders, and he was bending toward her, until she saw nothing but his face, felt nothing but his hands sliding slowly, sensuously, down her back, locking around her waist, drawing her body against his.



With a low groan, he slanted his mouth over hers, his tongue skimming across her lower lip like a silken flame.



Her skin was on fire and her bones were melting, she thought, dazed. Her legs felt like straw; every nerve ending tingled with awareness. Her head fell back, giving him access to the hollow of her throat.



His lips trailed down the exposed curve of her neck as his hands slid sensuously upward until they cupped her breasts.



"Alex," she moaned softly. "Alex, please . . ."



"What, Kara?" He drew back, his gaze burning into hers. "Tell me what you want."



She couldn't put it into words; instead, she pressed brazenly against him. "Alex . . ."



With a muffled cry, he swung her into his arms and carried her to the edge of the spring, and there, partially submerged in the warm swirling water, he joined his flesh and his spirit to hers.



She writhed beneath him, her nails clawing at the ridged flesh of his back, exciting him still further. Her legs locked around his waist to hold him close as she whispered his name over and over again, begging him to end the sweet torment.And then she was soaring, flying, reaching for that one moment of fulfillment and perfection.



His own release followed immediately. She felt the warmth and heat of him as his life poured into her, filling her, making her complete.



For endless moments, there was only the muted sound of the water lapping against their bodies and the harsh rasp of his breath in her ear. Never, she thought, never had she dreamed such ecstacy, such unity, existed.



She hugged him closer, wishing they could stay entwined in each other's arms forever.



She frowned as he began to draw away. "What is it?" she asked, her gaze searching his. "Alex?" A cold, nameless fear ensnared her heart when she saw his face. "Alex, what's wrong?You're scaring me."



He shook his head. "Kara, I'm sorry."



"Sorry?" Feeling suddenly vulnerable, she sat up and crossed her arms over her breasts. "Why?"



"We never should have made love."



"Oh?" Her voice sounded small and incredibly young. "I'm sorry you feel that way."



"Kara." He drew her into his arms, holding her in his lap as if she were a child. "I didn't mean it like that. It's just that we didn't use any protection."



"Oh," she murmured, relieved. "Is that all?" In spite of the fact that she had agreed with him that now was not the time to think about having a baby, she couldn't help but think how wonderful it would be to have Alex's baby. A boy, with his father's black hair and dark eyes.



"Kara."



"What?"



"I told you before that I didn't know if I could father a child with an earth woman."



Kara nodded. "I remember."



He took a deep breath. "I don't know what would happen to you if you did get pregnant."



"What do you mean?"



"That should be obvious. We're from different planets. My blood is different from yours, different than it was when I first came here. I don't know what effect these changes might have on a child, or . . . or on you. A pregnancy might be dangerous, even fatal, to you both."



Kara shivered. The water lapping at her feet felt suddenly cold. Dangerous. Fatal.His words echoed in her mind.



"Kara, I'm sorry."



"It's not your fault. I wanted it as badly as you did. Maybe more."



"But I knew better."



"Alex, it's done. There's no sense tearing yourself up inside. Anyway, there are always risks when a woman gets pregnant," she added, hoping to allay not only his fears, but her own. "It's part of life."



But she couldn't help wondering what would happen if she did get pregnant. What had she done? What kind of child would result from their union?



Alex stood up, carrying her with him. "You're cold," he said.



She nodded, though it wasn't the cool air that was making her shiver. Dangerous. Fatal. The words repeated themselves in her mind, frightening her in spite of her bold words.



As if she were a helpless child, she let him dry her off and dress her. She watched while he pulled on his pants, her gaze drawn to the dark stripe down his back. He slipped his shirt over his head, and then he lifted her into his arms and carried her up the mountain, into the cavern.



Inside, Alex removed her clothing and tucked her into bed. Undressing, he slid in beside her and gathered her into his arms.



Please, please, please . . .Just the single word, playing over and over in his mind.



Please let her be all right.



Please don't let my seed take root within her womb.



I've been alone so long. Please don't take her from me . . . .



He held her all through the night, praying to the gods of his home world, to the Great Spirit of the Lakota, begging for mercy.



Forgive me,he pleaded. Punish me, but please don't let anything happen to the woman asleep in my arms . . .