Midnight Pleasures Page 15

  "Yes, thank you." She glanced at him, at the door, and back at him again. "Did you manipulate the cloak, as well?"

  "No."

  "No?" She cast a wary glance at the puddle of black velvet in his lap.

  With a sigh, Rayven stroked the smooth velvet. "I don't know how to explain my cloak. Indeed, I don't know if it can be explained. I fashioned it myself, though I cannot recall how it was done, nor where the material came from. The night after I was made Vampyre, my hands created it with a knowledge of their own. My blood, the very essence of my life, is woven into the fabric. And because the blood of my mother is in me, a part of her dwells within the cloak."

  "And it's that part of her that soothes you, isn't it?" She smiled, as if she had just solved a mystery. "I've seen the way the cloak enfolds you when you're unhappy, or weary, as if to comfort you."

  He nodded, surprised by her perception, and by her ready acceptance of what was, for the most part, completely incomprehensible.

  "You have a beautiful soul, Rhianna McLeod," he said quietly. "Do you think me cruel to keep you here against your will? To make you live with a monster when you deserve so much more?"

  A man like Montroy, he thought, sick with jealousy. That was what she deserved. A husband who could give her children, who could offer her a home filled with sunlight and laughter.

  "Is that how you see yourself, my lord? As a monster?"

  "Don't you?"

  "No."

  "What do you see, sweet Rhianna?"

  "I'm not sure. But you're far too kind to be a monster."

  "Kind?" He made a low sound of derision in his throat. "No one has ever accused me of that before."

  "You have been kind to me, kind to my family. And now you've shown kindness to the town as well."

  "That was your idea, not mine."

  "You could have said no."

  "Not to you." He cupped her cheek in his palm, the heat of her skin warming him. "Rhianna, I wish…" He drew his hand from her face and stood up, turning away so that his back was to her.

  "What do you wish?"

  "Nothing. Wishes are for fools."

  Rising, she went to stand behind him. He was so tall, so strong, and yet so vulnerable. Fearing she would be rebuffed, she slid her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his back. "Won't you tell me what you wish?"

  He folded his arms over her hands and bowed his head. "I wish I could be mortal for you, Rhianna, that I could love you, that I could make love to you, as a mortal man. I wish I could stand beside you on a warm summer morning and watch the sunrise, that I could share your days as well as your nights. I would cherish you with each breath, shower you with the riches of the world. I wish I could father your children and watch them grow, that I could work beside you, and grow old at your side."

  He took a deep breath, willing away the images his words had created in his mind. "I can do none of those things." He turned around to face her. "If I weren't a monster, my sweet, I would release you from your promise. I would send you away from here and bid you well. But I have ever been a selfish knave and find that I cannot let you go. Not now. Not after the joy of having you rest beside me." His dark eyes burned into hers. "Perhaps not ever."

  She looked up at him, her expression serene. "Have I asked to be released from my promise?"

  "You should."

  "Why? You just said you would not let me go."

  He traced the curve of her cheek with his forefinger. "True enough," he agreed, "and yet, I doubt I could deny you anything. Even your freedom, should you ask it of me."

  "I promised you a year, my lord, and unless you send me away, I intend to honor that promise."

  "Rhianna…" He had no words to express his feelings, no words to tell her how precious she was to him at that moment as she looked up at him, her eyes filled with acceptance, and trust. "What a rare creature you are," he murmured.

  "You look extremely pale, my lord," she mused. "Shall I call Bevins?"

  "No." He turned away from her again lest she see the hunger burning in his eyes. "Why don't you go freshen up for supper? I shall join you later."

  "Will you not kiss me before I go?"

  "Not now." His voice was harsh.

  "Very well, my lord."

  The hurt in her voice was like a slap. "Rhianna, wait." He took a deep breath; then, when he was certain the hunger was under control, he took her in his arms and kissed her. "I'll see you as soon as I can."

  She noticed the change in him when he entered the library two hours later. His face seemed less pale, his eyes less bright, his attitude more relaxed.

  He hesitated in the doorway, aware of her scrutiny. "Shall I leave?"

  "No." Why had she never noticed there were times when he looked pale, and times when his color was more—she swallowed—normal? She tried to analyze her feelings now that she knew what he was, what he did to survive. She expected to feel revulsion; instead, she felt only compassion.

  He crossed the room and took a seat across from her. She wore a dress of pale pink trimmed with white lace. Her hair fell over her shoulders and down her back like a waterfall of spun gold. And her eyes… He gazed into her deep blue eyes and saw the daylight sky he had not seen in over four hundred years.

  He longed to touch her, but made no move toward her for fear of frightening her. She would need time to adjust, to accept.

  "How do you bear it?" she asked after a lengthy silence. "How can you drink… I don't understand how you can do it, drink the… the blood of animals."

  They had discussed this before, but he understood her need to try to understand. "It is necessary for my survival," he replied patiently.

  "Do you need to… to drink it every night?"

  "No."

  "How long can you go without it?"

  "Comfortably for a week or so. Any longer than that becomes… stressful."

  "You fed well tonight, didn't you? Your skin looks almost…"

  "Human?"

  She nodded, thinking what a strange conversation this was. She knew what he was, knew it was true, and yet a distant part of her mind still refused to accept it.

  "You told me that you usually drink the blood of animals. Were you lying to me?"

  "No." He hesitated, wondering how much to tell her, how much more she could accept. "I can survive on the blood of animals, as you could survive on locusts and ants, if necessary. But would you want to? It isn't natural for you to eat such things, any more than it is natural for me to drink the blood of animals. I need human blood."

  I need your blood. He did not say the words, but she heard them in her mind, and in her heart.

  Rhianna stared at him. "All those other girls," she said slowly. "The ones who were here before me. You didn't defile them, the way the townspeople think, did you? You drank from them."

  Rayven nodded, his expression impassive. He saw the revulsion in her eyes, felt as though a vast gulf were opening between them, an abyss he would never be able to cross.

  "And that was why you bought me, wasn't it? To… to feed on."

  "The blood of beasts will satisfy the hunger," he said, his voice carefully neutral, "but it gives me no pleasure, nor will it sustain me indefinitely. From time to time, I need human blood. Sometimes I crave it. To go without it for long periods of time weakens me." He took a deep breath and let it out in a long, weary sigh. "You cannot imagine the pain that comes with abstinence."

  He glanced at the pulse throbbing in her throat. The blood of beasts was vile, but Rhianna's blood was like the finest wine, the sweetest nectar.

  "What happened to the other girls who stayed here before me?"

  "I sent them away."

  Rhianna swallowed hard. "Alive?"

  "What do you think?"

  "I don't want to believe that you killed them. If you tell me you didn't, I'll accept your word."

  "I did them no harm. But I have killed in the past, Rhianna. And will do so again, if necessary. Don't try to imagine that I'm noble.
Or kind. I am a vampyre, and we are, by our very nature, killers. We trust no one, especially others of our kind, and guard our territory jealously."

  She heard his emphasis on the word "we," but couldn't deal with the idea that there might be others like him living nearby. Not now, not when she was trying so hard to understand what made him as he was.

  "Are you still trying to scare me away, my lord?" she asked, forcing a smile.

  Rayven shook his head. "I just want you to be aware of what you're dealing with."

  He stood up. "Think about what I've said, Rhianna. If you're still here tomorrow night, I'll know you've decided to stay until the year is up. If you leave, I will provide for you and your family as long as you live."

  She wanted to tell him that she still loved him, that nothing he could say or do would change her mind, but she couldn't form the words.

  "Good night, sweet Rhianna." His voice moved over her like a cold winter wind, and then he was gone as if he had never been there at all.

  Chapter Fifteen

  She didn't leave. She spent a sleepless night, remembering everything he had said, everything that had passed between them since that fateful night at Cotyer's, and when dawn came, she knew she couldn't leave him.

  She had expected him to be glad, to spend his every waking moment in her company. Instead, she had the feeling he was avoiding her. Though he joined her each night at supper, he seemed withdrawn. She had thought, after what he'd told her, after the day she had spent sleeping beside him, that he would take her to his bed. Instead, he held her at arm's length, his gaze warning her to keep her distance. It was most confusing.

  Tonight, he was late. She picked at her food, wondering if she had dreamed the whole thing. In the cold light of day, all he had told her seemed like a fable—reading minds and magical cloaks, living on the blood of sheep mixed with wine, being forced to live forever in the darkness. It was inconceivable.

  She sensed his presence even before he entered the dining room. Looking up, her gaze met his, and she knew that it was all true. He was a vampyre. Alive and yet dead. It explained so much: the despair she sometimes saw in his eyes, why she had never seen him during the light of day, why she never saw him eat, why his skin was ever cool to the touch.

  She felt a burst of hysterical laughter bubble in her throat. She had been afraid he had bought her to shame her, to defile her, when all he had wanted was to drink her blood.

  "Hungry, my lord?" she asked bitterly. Leaning back in her chair, she slowly and deliberately bared her throat to his gaze as all her dreams of a future with Rayven dissolved in a crimson sea of impossibility. He would not marry her. She would never bear his children.

  "Rhianna, don't." He turned away from the revulsion in her eyes, from the sight of her bared throat, the pulse beating wildly. The scent of her despair, her blood, flooded his senses.

  "I'm sorry. Forgive me," she murmured, and burst into tears. She would leave this place in a few months. Someday she would marry. She would have children and grandchildren, but Rayven would still be here, locked in chains of eternal darkness, forever alone and lonely.

  "Rhianna!" Muttering an oath, he knelt in front of her and took her hands in his. "Rhianna, don't cry. Please don't cry. I cannot abide your tears. You needn't stay here any longer. I'll send you home tomorrow. Tonight, if you wish. Only please don't cry."

  "I'm not crying for me," she said.

  He stared up at her, stunned by the realization that she was weeping for him.

  "Is there nothing that can be done for you?" she asked, sniffing back her tears.

  "Done for me?" he asked, frowning.

  "Can you never be mortal again?"

  Slowly, he shook his head. "No."

  "I'll stay with you," she promised. "I'll stay as long as you want me."

  "Ah, Rhianna, you have no idea how that tempts me." Never to be alone again. To have someone to share his life. He would show her the world, shower her with diamonds and emeralds, grant her anything she desired. She would never want for anything. She could sleep days at his side. Her face would send him to sleep and welcome him when he awoke…

  Slowly, he shook his head. He could not condemn her to the kind of life he led, expect her to shun the daylight, to spend her life with a man who was not a man at all, simply to ease his loneliness. He might be a monster, but even he could not be that cruel.

  His loneliness, the complete and utter sadness in the depths of his eyes, caught at her heart and made her soul weep. "Don't send me away," she begged softly. Leaning forward, she pressed a kiss to his brow.

  He slipped his arms around her waist, his face pressed against her breasts. Her warmth engulfed him, dispelling the cold that was his constant companion as sunlight chased away the chill of night.

  "I won't." He drew in a shaky breath. "God forgive me, I won't."

  A sense of peace, of coming home, filled her soul as she stroked his hair.

  "My sister is to wed on the morrow," she reminded him. "Say you'll come with me to the wedding."

  "If you wish." He no longer seemed to have any will of his own, he thought with wry amusement. She spoke, and he yearned only to obey.

  "I do." He looked up to see her smiling down at him. "You are most agreeable, my lord."

  "It seems I can deny you nothing."

  "Nothing, my lord Rayven?"

  "What would you have now, Rhianna? A chest filled with sapphires to rival the color of your eyes? Gold to match the color of your hair?"

  "What I want is of infinitely more worth, my lord."

  "I cannot imagine what it might be."

  "Can't you?"

  She was flirting with him, he mused. And quite brazenly, too. "Tell me, my sweet, and it's yours."

  "A kiss," Rhianna said, drawing out the word until it was a caress. "One kiss."

  "Only one?"

  "Or two."

  "Or twenty?" Rayven murmured, covering her mouth with his.

  Rhianna made a low sound of assent deep in her throat as she wrapped her arms around his neck. This was what she wanted, she thought as his touch drugged her senses. To be here, in his arms, for the rest of her life.

  Time ceased to have meaning as his tongue stroked her lower lip, as his hands slid up her rib cage, his thumbs lightly stroking her breasts.

  "Rayven… please…"

  He drew back to look at her. His breathing was ragged, his eyes alight with a fierce inner glow.

  "Don't turn me away again," she pleaded softly.

  "Rhianna, I want you more than you can imagine…"

  "But?"

  "I'm afraid I'll hurt you, that…"

  "What?"

  "Rhianna, I can't always separate my desire from the hunger that plagues me. I'm afraid that, in the heat of passion, the lust for blood will overcome my self-control."

  "Does it always happen that way?"

  "I don't know. I've only taken one woman to my bed since I was made Vampyre."

  "Only one? In four hundred years?"

  "The lust for blood has ever been more powerful than the lust of the flesh." Until Rhianna, he thought. Until she came and threaded hope into the lonely tapestry of his life.

  "What happened to that girl?"

  "She died in my arms."

  Rhianna sat back in the chair, unable to suppress the shudder of fear that skittered down her spine.

  "Rhianna, I could not live with the guilt if anything I did should cause you harm."

  "Have you… taken nourishment this evening?"

  "Yes." Knowing he would see her, remembering what it had been like to hold her while he slept, he had fed, and fed well.

  "Are you hungry now?"

  He shook his head, the certainty of what was coming next exciting him even as it filled him with a sense of dread.

  He needed her, needed her as surely as she needed him. Knowing that gave her the courage to shake off her fear. Rising to her feet, she took his hand and drew him up beside her. "I've waited for you long enou
gh, my lord."

  The words were spoken so softly, he doubted a mere mortal could have heard them.

  Rayven shook his head. "I cannot, Rhianna. Please do not ask this of me."

  "I'm not afraid."

  His fingers curled over her shoulders. "But I am."

  "Did you love that other girl?"

  "No."

  "Do you love me?"

  He nodded, unable to deny it.

  Her smile was as bright as the sunlight he would never see again, as warm as a mother's love.

  "You're sure this is what you want, Rhianna?"

  For answer, she took his hand in hers and turned toward the door.

  Helpless to resist, he followed her up the winding staircase to her room.

  Inside, her courage seemed to desert her, and she stared up at him, her eyes wide and uncertain.

  "We don't have to do this," Rayven said.

  "No, I want to. I just don't know what's expected of me."

  "We could start with a kiss," Rayven suggested, hoping it would put them both at ease.

  He drew her into his arms, felt the nervous tremors that shook her from head to foot.

  "Rhianna." He murmured her name as he claimed her lips.

  She was sweeter than honey, warmer than a summer day. It was like standing next to a ray of sunshine, he thought. Holding her in his arms chased away the chill that seemed ever to hold him in its grasp, and he drew her closer, absorbing the heat of her, the softness. Her breasts were crushed against his chest; he could feel the rapid beat of her heart, sense the passion blossoming within her.

  She responded to his kiss ardently, pressing herself against him, her arms sliding around his neck. She moaned softly as his lips slid over her throat, along her shoulder.

  "Rhianna, Rhianna, do you know how often I have dreamed of this moment?"

  She made a wordless sound of assent, drawing back a little so she could see his face. The heat in his eyes threatened to scorch her very soul, and she thought how wonderful it was that an innocent such as she could arouse such a man.

  He released her long enough to remove his cloak. She watched as he tossed it over a chair, felt her breath catch in her throat as she caught sight of herself in the mirror.