Night's Master

Where was Rafe? Had he left town? Did he know what was happening? I wished he was with me. Closing my eyes, I tried to find the link that we shared, but either he was blocking me, or I was too far away to contact him. Or…I refused to consider the possibility that he was dead. I would know it if he was. I was sure of it. After all we had shared, I would know.



Sitting there, with the phone still in my hand, I wondered where it would all end.



Chapter Thirty



Rafe prowled the outskirts of the town. He had fed earlier, but it had done nothing to ease his inner torment. He should have known it wouldn't last, but he had let himself believe that Kathy was different, that she was strong enough and brave enough to share his life. How could he have been such a fool? No matter how hard he pretended otherwise, he was a Vampire, Nosferatu, Undead. He was a hunter, a killer by nature, a drinker of blood. He might play at being mortal, but that didn't make it so, would never make it so.



Giving free rein to his anger and his hurt, he stalked the shadows. The night closed around him, clouds gathered overhead, lightning scorched the skies, and a cold, bitter wind whipped the land.



And once again, he was alone, as he had been alone since Rane disappeared.



Ah, Rane, he thought, where are you now? His brother had long ago ceased pretending to be anything other than what he was. Rafe had followed him one night, stood in the dark, and watched his brother drain the blood and the life from some streetwalker. He had watched, and had been sorely tempted to push his brother aside and take the woman for himself, but he had not. He had known his mother would not approve, that his father would be disappointed. His grandfather had understood and sympathized with him.



He remembered sharing his thoughts while walking with his grandfather late one night.



“You can be man or monster,” Roshan had said quietly. “It's up to you.”



“You've killed,” Rafe had said. “Many times.”



His grandfather had nodded. “In the course of my existence, I have killed many men, sometimes in self-defense, sometimes because the temptation to drink my fill and ease the pain was more than I could bear. I have often wondered if I'll be called to account for all the lives I've taken.”



“Judgment?” Rafe had asked. “Damnation?”



His grandfather had nodded again. “I've often wondered if I'll writhe in the flames of an unforgiving hell forever, or if there might be redemption for someone like me.”



“Do you think that's possible?”



“I don't know.” Roshan had laughed softly. “In all these centuries, I've not found an answer. I didn't ask for the Dark Gift. It seems unfair somehow that I should be punished for doing what I did to survive. And yet, the people I killed are just as dead. What right did I have to take their lives to prolong my own?”



“A Vampire with a conscience,” Rafe had murmured. “A rare thing indeed.”



And yet, in Rafe's family, not so rare, except for Rane. Ah, Rane, he thought again, where are you now?



But it was Kathy he yearned to see. His mind replayed every moment they had spent together, from the night he had first walked into her bookstore to that last night in the cave. He missed her smile, the sound of her voice, the love in her eyes, the touch of her body against his. His heart, his dead heart, twisted inside his chest. How long would it take to forget her? A century? An eternity? Where was she now? He knew she had left Oak Hollow, no doubt for good. For a moment, he was sorely tempted to open the link between them, but he shook it aside. She had left him, left town. He would not go after her, would not beg for her love and hope she would take pity on him.



He paused to stare into the darkness. The raging storm called to something primal within him, something dark and feral that yearned to be set free.



A jagged spear of lightning pierced the clouds, unleashing a torrent of rain. A rumble of thunder shook the earth beneath his feet.



He lifted his head to the rain, rain that soaked the ground around him even as the voice of thunder rolled across the heavens.



“Go,” it seemed to say. “Go and be what you were born to be.”



Muttering an oath, he pivoted on his heel and headed back toward the town. He couldn't get Kathy out of his heart, but maybe he could drown her memory in blood.



Chapter Thirty-One



I stood at the motel window, staring out at the rain. Too restless to stand still, I turned away from the window and paced the floor, my thoughts in turmoil, my heart aching. I was angry with myself for driving Rafe away, and angry with Rafe for walking away without an argument. Had he loved me so little?



I slammed my hand against the wall. That was unfair. It wasn't Rafe's fault that we were apart, it was mine. I had thrown our happiness away with both hands because I had let my doubts and fears get the best of me. There were no guarantees in life. Yes, the odds were good that Rafe would outlive me by hundreds of years, but what if he didn't? And what difference did it make? Life was uncertain, and more so every day. I could get run over by a car while crossing the street. Rafe could be destroyed by a Vampire hunter. Instead of accepting that and holding fast to whatever time we could have together, I had let my fears of an unknown future drive us apart.



Resting my forehead against the cold window pane, I closed my eyes.



Rafe, Rafe, where are you? Please don't shut me out. I was wrong. I'm sorry. Please forgive me.



Chapter Thirty-Two



The inside of the club was dark, quiet at this time of the night save for the clink of glassware and the murmur of voices.



Rafe stood to one side of the entrance, his gaze moving over the room, skipping over couples in his search for a female who was there alone.



After a time, he choose a woman sitting by herself at the end of the bar. She wore a white sweater and an ankle-length green skirt. He told himself the fact that her hair was golden blond and her eyes were green, like Kathy's, had nothing to do with his choice. Lots of women had blond hair and deep green eyes.



“Lying to yourself again,” he muttered as he walked toward her.



She glanced up as he approached.



“Is this seat taken?” he asked.



“No.”



He gestured at her glass, which was nearly empty. “Can I buy you another?”



“Sure.”



“What are you drinking?”



“Scotch and water.”



He ordered another drink for her and a glass of red wine for himself. Her name was Sonja and she had just turned thirty. She worked for a real estate company, had recently ended a two-year relationship, and lived alone.



She was ripe and ready for the taking, Rafe thought, but he wasn't interested in her body, only her blood.



It took little effort to convince her to leave with him. Once outside, he led her into the shadows and drew her into his arms. She was soft and pliable, her skin warm beneath his hands. The hunger rode him with whip and spurs, urging him to take her, to take it all, to give up the fight and surrender to the reality of what he was.



His power flowed through him, heightening his senses. The scent of her blood, warm and vital with life, filled his nostrils. The beat of her heart was echoed in the thunder that rolled across the skies.



He was a Vampire, and she was his for the taking.



He ran his tongue over his fangs, then bent the woman backward over his arm.



She was prey, and he was the hunter.



He was lowering his head when Kathy's voice, thick with tears, whispered through his mind. Rafe, Rafe, where are you? Please don't shut me out. I was wrong. I'm sorry. Please forgive me.



Lifting his head, he glanced over his shoulder, almost expecting to see her standing there.



Rafe, please come back to me….



With a low growl, he released the woman from his thrall and then, thinking he was a damn fool, he followed the sound of his beloved's voice.



Chapter Thirty-Three



Fighting the urge to cry, I went into the bathroom and turned on the light. After undressing, I stepped into the shower. With hot water sluicing over my body, I could pretend the wetness on my cheeks was water and not tears.



Once started, the tears came harder, faster. How long could a person cry before they dehydrated?



So, I'd made a mistake, but it wasn't irreversible. It couldn't be. In spite of the danger, I would go back to Oak Hollow and find Rafe. I'd tell him I loved him, that I would always love him, and hope that he would believe me, and forgive me.



Unwrapping a bar of soap, I washed my face. When I rinsed away the soap and opened my eyes again, Rafe was standing outside the shower door.



I blinked at him, wondering if he was real or if I had been so desperate to see him again, I had conjured his image from my imagination.



I watched him undress, my gaze moving avidly over every inch of exposed flesh, and then he opened the door.



“You want to get rid of that?” he asked, gesturing at the silver chain and cross that I now wore day and night.



Happiness bubbled up inside me like warm champagne. He was here, and by the look of him, he wasn't mad at me. I ran my fingertips over the chain. “I don't know if I should take it off,” I said, as if I was giving it serious thought. “A girl can never be too careful.”



“Take a chance,” he said, flashing a wicked grin. “Walk on the wild side with me.”



“You tempt me, sir.” Batting my eyelashes at him, I lifted the chain over my head, leaned out the door, and placed the cross and chain on the sink top. I grinned inwardly when Rafe dropped a washcloth over them.



“That's the idea,” Rafe said, and stepping into the shower, he closed the door. Taking the soap from my hand, he began to wash me, first my neck, then my shoulders and my arms.



I trembled at his touch, afraid to speak. If this was a dream, I didn't want it to end.



I had never felt anything as erotic as Rafe's strong, soapy hands sliding over my flesh. Once, I had imagined what it would be like for the two of us to shower together. The reality was better than my wildest fantasies. Desire stirred within me, hot and slick. A glance at Rafe showed that my nearness was having a similar effect on him.



When he had washed me from neck to heel, I took the soap from his hand. “My turn,” I said, surprised at how breathy and sexy my voice sounded. It was an amazing feeling, running my lathered hands over his taut flesh, feeling his muscles quiver with longing at my touch, watching his eyes grow hot as my hands moved over his body, lower, lower…