Night's Surrender Read online

  Blushing furiously, she glanced up at him, grateful that he couldn’t read her mind.

  He smiled at her, his arm tightening around her waist as the music ended and they returned to their table. “If I asked you out, what would you say?”

  “Ask me and see.” She had intended for her reply to be saucy and flirtatious; instead, it emerged as a husky whisper. What was there about this man that she found so irresistible? It was more than his devastating good looks, more than the rich timbre of his voice. Something primal within him called to something wild and untouched within the deepest part of her being in ways she recognized but didn’t understand. She was meant to be his, she thought, as he was meant to be hers.

  “Would you go out with me tomorrow night, Abbey Marie?”

  “I’d love to.”

  “Pick you up at eight?”

  Nodding, she pulled one of her business cards from her wallet and handed it to him. His fingers brushed hers as he took the card.

  “Eight,” she said breathlessly.

  It wasn’t until Nick had put her in a cab and she was on her way home that Abbey stopped to wonder how he knew her middle name.

  Nick lingered on the sidewalk long after Abbey’s cab was out of sight. She was a lovely young woman with an air of innocence that was remarkably rare these days. That she was human, he had no doubt. And yet the scent of vampire clung to her, almost too faint to detect, but there nonetheless, which led him to wonder if she was in the habit of associating with vampires, or if she had simply, unknowingly, been in contact with one earlier that day.

  He grinned wryly as another thought crossed his mind. Unlikely as it seemed, she might be a hunter.

  His grin turned to laughter as he pictured a little bit of a thing like Abbey trying to take down an angry vampire, or lop the head off a sleeping one. Of course, anything was possible. He hadn’t lived this long by underestimating his enemies, however unlikely they appeared.

  He would do well to remember that, Nick mused as he strolled down the street. In recent months, the vampire community had again gone underground. Several prominent hunters had been slain, among them Louise McDonald and her sister. He had never had any contact with Lou McDonald, but she had been a legend among the Undead—ruthless in the hunt, merciless in the kill. A group of hunters had recently put out a contract on whoever had killed her and her sister. Odds were good that it had been a vampire, though no one in their community had come forward to claim the honor.

  He paused at the corner, his gaze drawn to a group of young adults exiting a dance club. Their combined scents stirred his hunger. And his memories. Memories that shamed him now. There had been times, in the distant past, when he would have preyed upon them all, drained them dry and tossed the empty husks aside without a qualm.

  Those days were long gone, but the ubiquitous need to feed remained. Nick fell into step behind them as they moved on, laughing and weaving down the street. Had he ever been that young, that carefree? His days in mortality had been spent trying to keep body and soul together.

  He fell back a little as one of the couples broke off from the others. His hunger spiked as he trailed soundlessly behind them.

  They never realized he was there, never suspected they were in danger until it was too late.

  Back at home, he poured himself a glass of red wine and settled into his favorite chair. Thoughts of days gone by had tempted him to drain the couple dry. Doing so in the past had become an addiction. For his kind, taking a life was a high like no other—to drink a man’s life, his memories, his strength—the rush was indescribable. And he had been sorely tempted. But he hadn’t killed in centuries unless it was in self-defense. These days he took only what he needed and moved on.

  He shook the ancient memories from his mind and focused instead on Abbey Marie. He had been drawn to her the moment her eyes met his, though he couldn’t say why. Still, he had been shocked by the almost mystical sense that he had not met her by accident, that she was meant to be his, body and soul.

  He sat there until dawn teased his senses. In his bedroom, he undressed down to his briefs, then stretched out on the bed. In days past, he had slept in caves, abandoned hovels, burned-out buildings.

  Muttering an oath, he closed his eyes. Enough about the past. He dragged a hand across his jaw. An indrawn breath reminded him of the woman. Abbey. The scent of her skin lingered on his, a scent that was uniquely hers. It conjured images of sunshine and children at play, of close-knit families gathered together in love and laughter, things that had never been his. Would never be his.

  He murmured her name as the thick darkness closed around him, sweeping him into oblivion.

  Abbey woke early with a smile on her face. Sitting up, she hugged her pillow to her chest. It was Friday and she had a date. With Nick.

  Bounding out of bed, she showered and dressed, ate a quick breakfast, then hurried down the street to the loft where her acting class met.

  She nodded to her friends, but didn’t stop to chat lest they weaken her resolve.

  Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the coach’s door, hesitated when he bid her enter. Did she really want to do this?

  Another deep breath and she stepped into his office. Peter Abbot sat behind a large walnut desk. Autographed photographs of world-famous actors and actresses covered the wall behind him. Abbey had hoped that her own photo would one day join the others, but it had been nothing but a pipe dream. She knew that now.

  Abbot listened quietly to what she had to say, nodding from time to time. “I can’t say I didn’t see this coming,” he remarked. “I believe you have the talent necessary, but you’re right, you don’t have the drive, the hunger, to make it to the top.” Rising, he came around the desk and gave her a hug. “You may never be a great actress,” he said, “but you will always be a star in my eyes.”

  Blinking back her tears, Abbey gave him a quick smile, then hurried out of the studio.

  She spent the rest of the day scrolling through the want ads on her iPod, only to realize that not only wasn’t she cut out to be an actress, she wasn’t fit for much of anything else, either. Save for a few menial jobs in food services or child care, or those that required physical labor, most of the jobs these days were strictly high-tech, requiring complicated computer and software skills.

  Tossing her iPod on the sofa, Abbey glanced at her watch, then grabbed her handbag, and headed out the door, all thoughts of finding a job erased in the excitement of her upcoming date with Nick. She couldn’t wait to see him again. She wanted to wow him tonight, make him really sit up and take notice, and with that in mind, she hailed a cab and went shopping at her favorite boutique.

  The doorbell rang at eight sharp. A million butterflies took flight in the pit of Abbey’s stomach as she quickly applied her lipstick, took a last glance in the mirror, then ran to answer the door.

  Nick whistled softly when he saw her.

  “You didn’t say where we were going,” Abbey said, blushing as his gaze moved over her. “I hope this is appropriate.”

  “You’re beautiful.” And indeed, she was. The black dress emphasized her curves and displayed a generous amount of shapely leg. Her hair fell over her shoulders in silky soft waves. “Are you ready to go?” he asked.

  Abbey nodded. Outside, he handed her into a blood-red, late-model sports car, making her think that, for a man without a job or prospects, he seemed to be doing pretty darn well.

  He drove to a high-class nightclub in a posh section of the city. One look and Abbey knew it was a place made for lovers. The lighting was discreet, the high-backed booths arranged for privacy.

  A small band occupied a raised dais at one end of the room. Lights twinkled around the floor of the dais. A long bar, also outlined by tiny twinkling lights, took up one wall at the opposite end. The same tiny, twinkling lights ringed a large dance floor.

  A hostess attired in a long black gown guided them to a booth. A waitress came quickly to take their order—a Manhattan for A
bbey, a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon for Nick.

  “I’ve never been here before,” Abbey said, glancing around. “It’s lovely.”

  “As are you.” Nick gestured at the dance floor. “Shall we?”

  She nodded, eager to be in his arms. Taking her hand in his, he led her onto the floor. It was like a dream come true, Abbey thought, being in his arms again. The music was soft and low yet carried a sensual undertone that made her think of lovers entangled in silken sheets. He held her close, his body brushing intimately against hers. The air between them was charged with tension, making it hard to breathe. She looked up at him, wondering if he was as aware of it as she, felt his desire wash over her in a wave of longing.

  Lost in the heat of his eyes, she pressed herself against him, wanting to be closer, hating the clothing that separated them. When he lowered his head to hers, she closed her eyes in anticipation of his kiss. His lips were cool, yet warmth suffused her from head to heel. She was only scarcely aware that they had stopped moving. There were only his arms tight around her, his mouth boldly claiming hers.

  She stared up at him, dazed, when he pulled away.

  “The music’s stopped,” he murmured.

  “Has it?”

  Nick brushed her cheek with his knuckles, then took her hand and led her back to their table. She might be young, he mused. She might be small in stature, but she was all woman.

  Smiling, he lifted his glass in a toast. “To us.”

  “To us,” Abbey repeated. They were, she thought, the two most beautiful words she had ever heard.

  They danced and talked for hours, until Abbey’s eyelids grew heavy.

  “I should take you home,” Nick said when she yawned yet again.

  “No.”

  “You’re falling asleep, sweetheart.”

  “I know, but I don’t want this night to end.”

  “There’s always tomorrow night.”

  “Same time?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

  Abbey felt a tingle of awareness as they waited, handin-hand, for the valet to bring Nick’s car around. It had rained while they were inside; dark gray clouds scudded across the sky, the sidewalk and streets glistened wetly in the moonlight.

  She couldn’t stop looking at Nick as he drove to her apartment, one hand on the wheel, his other hand holding hers. Would he kiss her good night?

  Lost in daydreams that went beyond a mere goodnight kiss, she didn’t see the car careening toward them, wasn’t aware of any danger until a black SUV swerved to miss the car and clipped their fender.

  Nick hit the brake to avoid going onto the sidewalk, but the tires had no traction and went skidding over the wet street, then came to a jarring stop when it smashed into the side of a building.

  Abbey cried out as her head slammed against the side window, and then everything went black.

  Nick hissed a vile oath. He was sorely tempted to go after the idiot who had side-swiped him, but a quick look at Abbey changed his mind. Blood oozed from a shallow gash in her right temple and trickled down her cheek.

  Getting out of the car, he hurried around to her side, opened the door, and lifted her into his arms.

  Utilizing his vampire senses, he assured himself that she had no serious injuries and no concussion before he called upon his preternatural powers and transported the two of them to his favorite lair on Park Avenue.

  Abbey woke with a groan, one hand pressed against her throbbing head.

  She opened her eyes, squinting against the light. Where was she? A glance at the window showed it was still dark outside.

  She started to sit up, only to fall back on the mattress as the room spun out of focus.

  “Easy, now.”

  She recognized that whiskey-rough voice. “Nick?”

  “I’m here. How are you feeling?”

  “Awful. What happened?”

  “Don’t you remember?”

  She frowned. The movement made her wince. “We were in an accident . . . somebody hit us . . . but how did I get here?” Wherever “here” was.

  “I brought you home. My home,” he clarified. “You’re not badly hurt. Bit of a cut on your forehead is all. You were lucky.”

  She didn’t feel lucky. Her head hurt like sin. And she was in a man’s bed. A man she scarcely knew. “I should go home.” It was one thing to imagine being in Nick’s bed; quite another to wake up and find herself there. He was, after all, little more than a stranger.

  “Tomorrow.” He eased her back down when she tried to sit up again. “You need someone to keep an eye on you tonight.”

  She wasn’t up to arguing with him. She had never been in an accident before; it left her feeling vulnerable.

  Nick placed a cool cloth on her forehead. “Get some sleep. I’ll be here if you need anything.”

  She wanted to tell him that she was fine, that she didn’t need a nursemaid, but trying to form the words was suddenly too much trouble. The best she could manage was a murmured “Thank you” before her eyelids fluttered closed.

  Nick stood beside the bed, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, his brow furrowed as he watched her sleep. Although she wasn’t badly hurt, he intended to stay by her side until dawn.

  Bemused by his urge to protect her, he watched her sleep. He should have taken her back to her apartment, or to the hospital. With her in the house, he would have to take his rest elsewhere.

  Why had he brought her here?

  Why, indeed?

  Closing his eyes, he inhaled the flowery fragrance of her silky hair and skin, the enticing scent of her life’s blood.

  The slow, steady beat of her heart was like music to his ears as he lowered his head to her neck. He would only take a little, he promised himself, just enough so that he would be able to sense it should she need him when she woke in the morning.

  Just enough to discover if she tasted as good as she looked.

  Chapter Four

  “Hey!” Logan Blackwood made a hasty grab for his wife, but his hand closed on empty air as she deftly slid out of bed. “Where are you going?”

  Mara moved to the window. Drawing back the curtain, she stared out into the darkness. “Abbey’s hurt.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She glanced at him over her shoulder, one brow arched. “Are you doubting me?”

  “Of course not, but . . .” Logan shook his head. He had known Mara for over nine centuries, yet her preternatural abilities continued to amaze him. They were in California; Abbey was in New York City. In spite of the vast distance between them, Mara was able to sense her godchild’s distress because of the blood link they shared. Still, he thought it remarkable. She shared a similar blood link with her godsons, Rane and Rafe, as well. It allowed her to find them no matter where they were. “Is Abbey okay?”

  Mara nodded as she slid back under the covers and into his arms. “It’s nothing serious.”

  “Good.” He kissed her cheeks, the tip of her nose, trailed his tongue down the length of her neck. She was a woman like no other. He never tired of looking at her, or making love to her. Even after all the years they had shared, she still had the power to excite him. To surprise him. “So,” he murmured, tucking her slim body beneath him, “where were we?”

  She gazed up at him, her deep green eyes sparkling with mischief as she raked her nails down his bare back. “You don’t remember?” She pouted, hips undulating in a way meant to drive him wild.

  “Honey,” he growled, “how could I ever forget?”

  Chapter Five

  Abbey woke abruptly. One minute, she was dreaming about making love to a tall, dark handsome man who looked remarkably like Nick and the next she was wide awake, with the sun brightly shining in her face, and her cell phone ringing.

  After sitting up, she looked around for her phone. Spying it on the bedside table, she checked the display before answering. “Dad? What’s wrong?”

  “Where are you?”


  “I’m at . . . at a friend’s house.”

  “Are you all right?”

  She lifted a hand to her head, winced when her fingers brushed the bandage on her temple. “Yes, why?”

  “Mara called me late last night. She said you’d been hurt, that it wasn’t serious. I’ve been calling you all morning.”

  “I . . . I guess my phone was off.” Had Nick turned it off last night? Nick. She glanced around the room. Where was he?

  “Do you need me to come there?”

  “No. Listen, Dad, I’m going home. I’ll call you when I get there, okay?”

  “You’re sure you’re all right?”

  “Yes. Love to Mom.”

  After disconnecting the call, Abbey got to her feet, very carefully. She stood there a moment. When she didn’t feel dizzy, she smoothed her hair and her clothes, then searched for her sandals. She found them, and her handbag, on the floor at the foot of the bed.

  After stepping into her shoes, she went looking for Nick. The condo was large, sparsely furnished with what she thought might be genuine antiques. Although there was little furniture, the walls were covered with paintings. She didn’t know much about art, but the paintings—mostly seascapes and scenes of ancient cities—looked incredibly expensive.

  There was no sign of Nick, leaving her to wonder where he was at such an early hour. Not at work, since he’d told her he didn’t have a job. Jogging, perhaps?

  Feeling suddenly uneasy, she went outside to hail a cab.

  Her father was pacing the floor in the living room of her apartment when she got home.

  “Dad! What are you doing here?”

  He opened his arms. “Do I need a reason to come and see my girl?”

  “Of course not! I’m glad you’re here.” After dropping her handbag on a chair, she hurried toward him, sighing as his arms enveloped her in a bear hug. He was, Abbey thought, the best, most handsome father in the whole world.