Midnight Embrace

Analisa woke slowly, stretched, and then sat up with a jerk. Rising, she went to the window, drew back the heavy draperies, and raised the sash. Sunlight poured into the room, over her skin. For a moment, she closed her eyes and let the warmth wash over her. How good it felt on her face and arms.



Opening her eyes, she gazed at the scene below: the greening grass, the multitude of flowers blooming, the way the late afternoon sunlight shimmered on the small pool in the center of the gardens. How beautiful it looked! Poor Mrs. Thornfield. She would never see the beauty of this place again. Poor Alesandro, to have dwelled in darkness for four hundred years.



Feeling hungry, she rang for Frannie and asked the maid to have Cook prepare her something to eat.



"Dewhurst wants to know if you'll be wantin' the carriage brought round."



"The carriage?"



"He thought you might be wantin' to go visit Mrs. Thornfield."



"Oh. I... that is, I think I'd better wait and talk to Lord Alesandro."



Frannie eyed her strangely. "Yes, miss, as you wish. Will that be all?"



"Yes, for now."



With a curtsey, Frannie left the room.



The staff would most likely think her a heartless creature for not going to the hospital, Analisa thought with a sigh. Would it be better to make the trip and pretend to visit the housekeeper?



Sitting at her dressing table, she picked up her brush and ran it through her hair. She hated lying, but she could hardly tell Frannie and the others the truth.



She stared at her reflection in the mirror, trying not to think of Alesandro spending the night with Mrs. Thornfield. She told herself she was being foolish, that there was nothing to worry about. But she couldn't help being jealous.



Frannie returned a few moments later and filled the ewer with hot water. Analisa washed quickly. Frannie helped her dress, and she went downstairs to breakfast. Everything seemed to remind her of Mrs. Thornfield and Alesandro. She looked at the food on her plate. Never again would Mrs. Thornfield be able to enjoy one of Cook's sumptuous meals; Alesandro had not eaten solid food in four hundred years.



With a shake of her head, she finished her breakfast and left the table. She sent Dewhurst into town to pick up the mail and then spent a leisurely hour reading the morning paper. She was about to put it aside when she noticed a small article on the last page.



Body of unidentified young woman found on the roadside. Police say possible cause of death may be an animal attack, due to wounds in the victim's neck and amount of blood lost.



Fear congealed in the pit of Analisa's stomach. The woman had been killed by a vampire. She knew it as surely as she knew the sun would rise in the east. But which vampire?



She laughed mirthlessly. Only a few months ago, she had not believed such creatures existed, and now she knew three of them, one of them intimately!



Frannie brought her a pot of tea a short time later. Feeling strangely numb, Analisa sipped it slowly. So much had happened since she'd met Alesandro. Her life had changed in ways she had never imagined. She had a closet filled with dresses and gowns, shoes and silk stockings and delicately made undergarments. She had learned to read and write, she knew how to do fancy needlework, how to behave at a large dinner party. She had fallen in love, experienced its joy, and its pain, basked in the pleasure of her lover's touch.



Her lover. Where was he now?



Putting the half-empty cup aside, she went outside to wander aimlessly through the gardens, trying not to imagine Alesandro and Mrs. Thornfield hunting for prey the night before, or lying side by side now, trapped in the Dark Sleep.



Finding herself standing outside the barn, she opened one of the big double doors and went inside. Alesandro's big black devil horse whinnied softly when she approached the stall.



"Hello, Deuce," she murmured.



The stallion's ears twitched at the sound of her voice.



"Do you miss him?" She took a step forward, warily reaching out with one hand to stroke the horse's neck. His coat was as smooth as silk. She stroked the stallion's neck for several minutes and then, growing braver, she took another step forward and rested her forehead on his shoulder. "I miss him, too," she murmured. "He asked me to marry him, you know, and I said I would, but now - "



"Now?"



She whirled around, her hand going to her heart. "Alesandro! You frightened me." She looked past him to the doorway, surprised to see that the sun was already setting. "I didn't know it was so late... where is Mrs. Thornfield?"



"She is up at the house, getting her things."



"Oh. What reason will she give for leaving your service?"



"She is going to tell them she has decided to retire." His gaze focused on her face, the blue of his eyes looking almost black.



"What's wrong?" she asked, disconcerted by the intensity of his look.



"Have you changed your mind, 'Lisa?"



She bit down on her lip. He must have heard her talking to his horse, she thought.



" 'Lisa?" He stood there, vampire still, waiting for her answer. He was wearing black again, and she wondered absently if there was some sort of vampire code that decreed they must always be attired in black.



"I haven't changed my mind." Seeing him, hearing his voice, chased all her doubts away.



"This is not the first time you have had second thoughts about us," he said quietly. "Not that I can fault you for that, considering all that has happened."



"I have no doubts when we are together," she said, "so perhaps you should never leave my side."



He closed the distance between them and drew her into her arms. "I never should have let it come to this," he remarked, shaking his head ruefully. "I did not intend for this to happen. In four hundred years, I have allowed no mortal to get close to me, to matter to me."



She tilted her head back so she could see his face. "Would you rather I were a vampire, as you are?"



He had thought of it many times, but it was the first time she had mentioned it. The idea filled him with excitement, and horror.



"It would make things easier in many ways," he admitted, "but I would not see you changed, Analisa. I love you as you are."



"But I won't always be like this."



He brushed a lock of hair from her cheek, ran his thumb back and forth across the velvet smoothness of her skin. "You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen," he said quietly, "but I am not in love with your appearance, 'Lisa. I love the gentleness of your heart, the bravery of your soul."



"So you would love me just the same if I were old and wrinkled?"



He nodded.



"And it would make no difference when we made love?"



"Perhaps I would blow out the candles."



She made a face at him, and then she laughed.



"It is good to hear you laugh." He brushed a kiss across the crown of her head, then drew her up hard against him. "What am I do to with you?"



"Marry me, my lord," she said, "as you promised." As soon as they were wed, she would order him some new coats, she thought. Of course, he looked elegant in black, but shethought he would look equally gorgeous in blue to match his eyes.



"You have but to name the day," he assured her, then rested his chin on the top of her head. "Rodrigo has bequeathed the Dark Gift to another."



"When? Why?"



"Last night. I do not know why." He frowned. "Who can say why that madman does what he does? Perhaps, like me, he grows weary of being alone."



"A good guess, Dr. Avallone."



Alesandro whirled around to face the intruder standing just inside the barn door. "What are you doing here?" he demanded.



"I have come to settle what is between us once and for all," Rodrigo replied. His gaze moved slowly, insolently, over Analisa, and then he licked his lips. "And she will go to the victor."



Alesandro stepped in front of Analisa, shielding her with his body. She could feel the tension radiating from him like heat from a roaring fire.



"I would kill her before I saw her at your mercy," he said, his voice as cold as winter frost.



"Would you?" Rodrigo swaggered into the barn. "I wonder."



"Be gone from here," Alesandro said. "This is neither the timenor the place to settle what is between us."



"This is the perfect time," Rodrigo hissed. "The last time."



Analisa took a step backward, fear stealing the breath from her body.



Alesandro moved toward Rodrigo. The two vampires seemed to grow larger in her sight, blocking everything else from view.



They circled each other slowly, their mutual hatred crackling like lightning between them. Rodrigo bared his fangs.



Alesandro focused all his energy on his enemy. He had no thought for Analisa now. For this moment in time, she did not exist. If he were destroyed, she would die. And he could not let her die the death Rodrigo would surely give her.



He launched himself at Rodrigo, fangs bared, hands curled into claws. The suddenness of his attack took the other vampire by surprise, and he knew a moment of satisfaction at drawing first blood.



Rodrigo quickly met his attack with one of his own, his fangs ripping through Alesandro's shoulder. The scent of blood filled the air.



The horses thrashed in their stalls, disturbed by the battle, by the scent of blood. Alesandro's stallion kicked the stall door with such force, it flew open. With a toss of his head, the horse raced out of the barn.



Analisa pressed herself against the back wall, her fist pressed to her mouth to keep from screaming as she watched the vicious battle. She stared at Alesandro. There was blood everywhere - on his face, his arms, his shirt front.



How much longer could it go on? And where was Dewhurst? If he came in now...



But there was no time to worry about Dewhurst, not now. In a move too quick for her to see, Rodrigo had managed to drive Alesandro to the ground. He bent over him now, fangs bared, his hands locked around Alesandro's throat.



Unable to watch, she squeezed her eyes shut, only to open them again as an inhuman howl rang in her ears, sending shivers racing down her spine.



Rodrigo and Alesandro stood facing each other now. Both were panting heavily. Blood poured from a deep gash in Alesandro's throat, gushed from a wound in Rodrigo's chest.



So much blood. How much longer could they go on?



A movement at the door drew Analisa's attention, and she saw Mrs. Thornfield standing there. For a moment, Analisa stared at the housekeeper. She looked the same, yet not the same. Her hair was thicker, the gray gleaming like spun silver. She looked vibrant, almost youthful. How had she explained the sudden change in her appearance to Frannie and Dewhurst and Cook?



Alesandro and Rodrigo both noticed the other vampire at the same moment. Alesandro shook his head to warn her off, but he was too late.



With a cry, Rodrigo flew to the housekeeper's side and buried his fangs in her throat, drinking deeply. She struggled in his grasp, but she was a young vampire and no match for Rodrigo, even wounded and bleeding as he was.



A low growl rose in Alesandro's throat. Eyes blazing, he started toward Rodrigo.



Rodrigo thrust Mrs. Thornfield in front of him, his hands gripping her shoulders. He glared at Alesandro, dark red blood dripping from his fangs. "Stay there, or she dies!"



Alesandro came to an abrupt halt, his eyes narrowing as Rodrigo dipped his head and drank again.



Analisa stared, unable to believe her eyes. She could see Rodrigo growing stronger, his wounds closing, the color returning to his face.



"Alesandro!" She took a step forward as she called his name.



He looked at her, his need horrible to see. His face was drained of color, his cheeks sunken, his eyes ablaze with pain. His gaze narrowed, focused on the pulse throbbing in her throat.



He took a step toward her, and suddenly Rodrigo was there. Strengthened by the blood he had taken, he drove Alesandro back against the wall, his fangs buried in Alesandro's throat, his hands clawing at Alesandro's chest.



Analisa felt the bile rise in her throat. For a moment, she stood rooted to the spot, frozen in horror. She looked to Mrs. Thornfield for help, but the housekeeper was lying on the floor, gasping for breath.



Analisa glanced frantically around the barn. She had to do something. If she didn't, they would all die at Rodrigo's hand.



Almost before she realized it, she was moving, her hand reaching out, her mind refusing to accept what she was about to do.



"Lord forgive me," she murmured, and drawing back her arm, she drove the pitchfork into Rodrigo's back. The tines of the pitchfork pierced the vampire's back with remarkable ease.



Rodrigo whirled around, shrieking with pain and rage, the tines sticking out of his chest. Blood dripped from the points. He lunged at her, his hands reaching for her.



She screamed as his hand closed on her arm. And then, like the shadow of death, Alesandro rose up behind him. With a feral cry born of fear and rage and pain, he lunged at the other vampire, his body shimmering, changing. A savage growl rose in his throat.



Rodrigo spun around. Too late. Too late to flee, too late to do anything but cry out as the huge black wolf drove him down to the floor and ripped out his throat.



Analisa stared at the wolf growling over the body of the vampire, at Mrs. Thornfield, who was just now struggling to sit up, at the blood that stained the wolf's fangs and fur. It was too much, too much.



The floor rushed up toward her, and then everything went black.