Night Reigns

Thank goodness she had a lovely voice, surprisingly low and, at times, downright sultry, trailing down his back like warm fingers. And she was a phenomenal mimic, sounding like Sarah Vaughan one night and Lady GaGa the next. He could listen to her for hours … without the annoying rumbling sound that had infiltrated his bedroom.



He now knew she created it by roller-skating from one side of the spacious room to the other while sorting through his paperwork. The problem: Ami didn’t know how to skate. That fact became painfully evident when she kept latching onto furniture to prevent her feet from flying out from under her.



A rather frightening warmth unfurled inside him. Damn, but she was adorable. Tight jeans faded to a pale blue-gray rode low on her hips and hugged slender legs. A white, sleeveless crop top emphasized bountiful breasts and left a tantalizing strip of pale, narrow waist bare. Her fiery locks were pulled back in a careless ponytail knocked askew by her headphones, rebellious curls springing loose all around her enchanting face. Large emerald eyes. Plump, pink lips that drew his gaze far too often.



Just then, she scrambled for purchase, reached for the sofa and missed, landing squarely on her delectable backside somewhere behind it. Soft, husky laughter filled the room, making his treacherous heart beat faster.



He liked that she could laugh at herself.



Actually, he liked everything about her.



But he could never love her. To love her would be the height of foolishness. He had already been down that road indirectly: had loved a human woman and lost her twice.



One of the many things he had learned during his long stint as an Immortal Guardian was that Seconds could live very short lives, a fate even more likely now that the vampires’ behavior had changed and their numbers had grown.



When Ami’s death inevitably came, it would be unavoidable. Judging by recent events, it could also be sudden and violent.



And, if Marcus loved her, losing her would take from him what little remained of his ever-darkening soul.



Though she couldn’t see him from her position behind the sofa, Ami knew Marcus was there. She could feel him … like the heat of the sun seeping into her skin, warming her blood and speeding her pulse.



Turning her iPod off, she tugged the headphones down and left them dangling around her neck. “You didn’t see that,” she called wryly.



“If you say so, Oh Graceful One,” he replied.



Ami laughed and used the back of the sofa to tentatively gain her feet.



As always, the sight of him left her breathless. Marcus was as close to her idea of perfection as a man could get. His wavy black hair habitually fell forward across eyes a warm, dark brown. His broad shoulders filled the doorway. His stomach, like the rest of him, rippled with muscle that made her quiver inside each time she inadvertently brushed it while helping him gear up for the hunt each night.



It was odd, but as soon as he had relaxed and begun treating her as a friend, she had become fascinated with him, seeking every tiny insight into his personality and developing an ever stronger longing to touch him.



“Is there some reason you have decided to assault my lovely floors in such a bizarre fashion?” he queried.



Ami glanced down at her bright white skates, then met Marcus’s gaze. “It seemed the thing to do.”



That’s it. Sound natural. Sound buoyant. Let him attribute the weakness in your knees to the roller skates.



His lips twitched. A dimple appeared in his left cheek. Her knees weakened further.



“Darnell called earlier,” she mentioned as she eased around the sofa and—very smoothly, she thought—began to glide across the floor toward him.



His gaze sharpened. “Did he?”



She nodded. Lately, Marcus had reacted oddly to the mention of Darnell, David, or Seth. She didn’t know why. “He—”



The wheels of one skate made contact with the edge of the large ornamental carpet in the center of the room. The skate stopped. Ami kept going, arms flailing as she fought for balance and lost. A desperate attempt to use the stoppers on the front of the skates led to a couple of awkward tippytoe steps before she fell … right into Marcus’s arms as he leapt forward to catch her.



They almost managed to remain upright. But, as she tried to regain her balance, Ami accidentally tangled her legs with his and swept him off his feet as she fell backward.



Marcus clamped his arms around her waist and yanked her to him with lightning speed, one large hand slipping up to cup the back of her head just before they hit the floor.



Or rather he hit the floor. His knees and elbows impacted the hard bamboo. Ami never touched it. Nevertheless, she felt as though the wind had been knocked from her.



Her breasts were flattened against his chest; her stomach was pressed to his muscled abs. Her hips were locked against his. One of his hard thighs was wedged between hers, supporting his weight and keeping her off the floor.



Her heartbeat skittered wildly as speech deserted her.



“Are you all right?” he asked. Without loosening his hold, Marcus leaned his head back and gazed down at her.



She nodded, breathless.



His brow furrowed with concern. “Are you sure?” Again she nodded.



He was so strong. So handsome.



His frown deepened. “You aren’t talking. That can’t be a good sign. Why aren’t you talking?”



She inhaled deeply, preparing to force some weak explanation through her lips, but paused as the scent of him further heated her blood and made her head spin.



He wasn’t wearing cologne. He never did. How could any man not wearing cologne smell so—she breathed in again—so utterly desirable?



He shifted, inadvertently rubbing his chest against her breasts. Her nipples hardened. Heat danced through her veins. She dropped her gaze to his lips, licked her own as she imagined tasting him.



His arms tightened.



When she glanced up, Ami was thrilled to see the flame of desire—she recognized it now—sparking in his eyes, giving them the same unearthly glow combat did.



Marcus’s head slowly began to lower.



Ami’s excitement trebled.



Was he going to kiss her? Would she finally experience again how soft his mouth was? Learn his taste? Discover whether her heart would burst at the first touch? She had not had time to savor his first kiss, a celebration of their triumph on the battlefield.



His lips mere millimeters from hers, he paused and closed his eyes. The hand in her hair clenched into a fist. Muttering a curse, he suddenly turned his face aside and buried it in the crook of her neck.



At first, Ami worried he would break Seth’s etched-in-stone rule and take her blood. As the moment lengthened, however, she realized he was merely attempting to regain control.



Disappointment washed over her.



Rearing back, Marcus gracefully rose to his feet with her still in his arms. Ami studied his expression as he altered his hold, slipped one arm beneath her knees, and carried her over to the sofa. Other than a tense jaw, his handsome face was impassive, lending no hint of what he might be thinking.



Gently, he deposited her onto the soft cushions and knelt before her.



Her body hummed in scandalous places. “What are you doing?” she asked curiously. Not preparing to ravage her she would wager.



“Removing these,” he answered, and went to work on the laces of one of her skates. “I have lived for eight centuries, Ami. It would be far too humiliating to finally meet my demise in what would undoubtedly become known as the greatest skating catastrophe of the twenty-first century.”



She smiled. “Oh, come on. I’m not that bad.”



Pursing his lips, he glanced up at her and raised one eyebrow.



“Okay, I am. But that’s just because it was my first try. I’ll get better with practice.”



“Not if I have anything to say about it.”



He tugged off the first skate, set it aside, then tackled the other.



Ami repressed a sigh. He had left his long hair loose, and it fell forward over his eyes as it was wont to do. Leaning forward, she gave in to the urge to brush her fingers across his forehead and tuck his hair behind his ear.



He stilled at her touch, but did not look up. “You said you talked to Darnell today.”



“Yes.” Had his eyes grown brighter at the light caress? “He said Reordon was putting the word out, telling everyone to back the blank off. Marion isn’t a sellout.”



Lips twitching, he went back to unlacing her skate. “Blank?”



“He might have used a different word.”



He laughed. “I’ll bet he did. But if Marion didn’t betray us, who did? Chris will never convince me it was a coincidence.”



“It wasn’t. Seth brought in Aiden O’Kearney.”



“I’m not familiar with the name.”



“He’s an immortal who can see past events in real time when he touches objects or visits locations. Aiden said vampires have been taking turns waiting outside Marion’s home every night for weeks.”



Marcus paused and raised his head. “Did he say why?”



“According to what he could glean, a new army is gathering, led by a vampire this time.”



Marcus removed her skate and set it aside. “And this vampire leader advised them to spy on Marion and what? Wait for an immortal to call? How would he even know Marion was part of the network?”



“He didn’t. Aiden said, based on the past conversations he overheard or … however he does what he does … the vampire leader posted vamps outside of every garage in North Carolina that is equipped with a tow truck. Apparently Bastien once saw a network cleanup crew using them. I don’t know how these guys know that though.”



“Perhaps Bastien told them,” Marcus suggested, his face darkening.



Ami knew Marcus distrusted Bastien almost as much as his friend Roland did … with good reason. Bastien had nearly succeeded in staking Roland to the ground and leaving him for the sun to destroy. But Ami knew Bastien better than anyone else did. Seth had brought Bastien to his castle to reform him only days after rescuing Ami, and the two had bonded as they had struggled to adjust to their new circumstances.