Nightwalker dd-1 Page 9

Biting back a weary sigh, I smiled down at Michael, my right hand smoothing back his hair and idly touching his cheek. He reached up and pulled my hand down so my fingers rested against the pulse at his neck. My eyes drifted shut as I let its siren song beat through me for a couple of seconds. My lips parted slightly and I touched my tongue to my fangs. A hungry longing rose up in my chest, but I smothered it, lifting my hand back to his face.

  “Not now, love,” I whispered, opening my eyes. “When we reach Aswan, I will need you.” Michael turned his head and pressed a kiss against the palm of my hand before rising to his feet. He turned, walked toward the back of the jet and took a seat across from my other guardian. Brown-haired Gabriel had served as one of my bodyguards for more than ten years, but he still could not keep the look of envy from his eyes. I’d fed off both men in the past and neither had uttered a complaint.

  Danaus’s dark growl drew my attention back to the hunter. “A donor?”

  “I thought I’d pack lunch,” I said. “It will take us nearly twenty-four hours to reach Aswan. I don’t want to walk in weak and hungry.”

  “They both know?”

  “They have both assisted me in the past when I was in need.” I watched Danaus as his forehead furrowed with this bit of information. He seemed genuinely surprised. “What has confused you? That any human would do such a thing?”

  He sat forward, balancing on the edge of the seat, his elbows braced on his knees. “You can feed without killing?”

  “Of course,”

  “I thought it was necessary for you to kill for your survival.”

  “If that were true, we would have completely wiped out humans long ago.” I shook my head and then threaded a loose lock of hair behind my right ear. I had thought we finally put that old superstition to rest, but apparently it still lived on in Danaus, and maybe within this group that he was a part of. “Few kill, and most of the time it’s an accident. In this day of DNA and fingerprints, it’s too hard to kill and then deal with the body. We have a secret to keep so we feed carefully.”

  “But some still kill for sport.” Fresh tension seemed to hum in his frame as his hands clenched the edge of the bench.

  It became a fight not to clench my teeth. “Yes, and we take care of them.” I had personally taken out more than my share of fellow nightwalkers who went out of control. I might like to poke the beehive of the Coven Elders, but knew better than to stir up the humans. I liked my comfortable lifestyle.

  Staring at my new companion, I was surprised by the new thought that occurred to me. “You’ve not actually spoken with many of us, have you?”

  Danaus snorted and shook his head as he sat back against the seat, resting his hands limply in his lap. “Why? So you can try to convince me that you’re not soulless killers, spreading evil by converting humans? Nerian was right—you’re parasites, feeding on humanity, your only drive to fulfill your own desires.”

  My head fell back and I laughed, my right hand covering my eyes. “How is that any different from humans?” I dropped my hand back to the leather seat, where I tapped my nails softly on the bench. “Haven’t you just described humanity? Creatures surviving off the lives of others, driven to fulfill their own desires?”

  He remained silent and I let the subject drop as the plane lifted into the air. We both had our own issues to work out, but I was still curious about him, and he was at my disposal for several hours.

  “What are you, Danaus?” I asked. His eyes darted over to the bank of windows over my right shoulder, avoiding me. “I’ve been turning that question over in my head for more than a month now,” I continued, as if he’d spoken. “I’ve known several odd creatures in my time, but nothing like you. You have all the trappings of a human—wrapped up in your very human anger—but at the same time you sit over there pulsing with power. Are you even aware that you’re doing it? Your powers are so warm and alive, so wonderful. And the angrier you become, the stronger the pulse.” He still hadn’t looked at me, but I knew he was listening. His jaw hardened as he clenched his teeth and his eyes narrowed. I wondered how much he understood of himself.

  “You know, you smell of the wind and of some distant sea. Sometimes I think it’s the Mediterranean, but it has been too long since I stood where it lapped the shore. You also smell like the sun.”

  The description made the corner of his mouth quirk. He was suddenly fighting a smile. The description was strange, but it was the image conjured in my brain when I breathed him in.

  “If you will not tell me what, then tell me how old you are.”

  He stared at the windows hard, and I had about given up when his lips finally parted. “I served as a guard under Marcus Aurelius.” The accent I had heard when we first met flared to life again, teasing at my thoughts.

  My brain shuffled through the card catalog of names in my mind, digging deeper for a time and place. It took only a moment, and when I placed it, my mouth fell open. Several minutes passed before I could organize my thoughts enough to form a coherent sentence. “You’re nearly three times my age,” I whispered, bringing a smile to his lips as his eyes finally returned to my face. “You look good for an old man.” The smile faded. “It also means you’re Roman in the truest form of the word. You watched the fall of the empire.”

  “I had left already,” he volunteered in a low voice. While his expression never changed, the light in his eyes seemed to dim. Had the fall of the great empire bothered him? I think I wanted it to—it made him seem a little more real.

  “Where have you been?” The question escaped me in a whisper of wonder and awe. I was just over six hundred years old, but it always filled me with a childlike giddiness when I encountered a creature older than me. I envied the knowledge their brains held, the sights they had seen that were now forever gone from this earth.

  “Everywhere,” he replied, his own rough voice sinking into softer tones. His eyelids drifted low, as if he were reliving some old memories. “Rome, then west across the Carpathian Mountains, through Russia and south through Mongolia into China. I came back through India, the Middle East, Africa, back through Europe, where I lived with monks.” His eyes flicked back to my face and his voice hardened. “And across all those countries and through all the religions, one thing held true. Vampires are evil.”

  “How did you capture Nerian?” I asked. He blinked at me, his mind seeming to stumble over the abrupt change of topic. There was no discussing my species’ right to live. Words would not be what convinced this man: only actions would accomplish that feat. Of course, I didn’t expect him to live long enough for that.

  Danaus pressed his lips into a thin line as his expression hardened. I was beginning to recognize that expression; his “I don’t have to tell you anything, bitch” look.

  Sitting forward on the leather sofa, I balanced my elbows on my knees. “You’ll be asked that again, by those who have a lot less patience than I do. You can tell me now and we move on, or we can wait and let them drag it from your lips using pain. Whether you’ve realized this or not, I am the only buffer between you and them.”

  I sat back again, draping my left arm over the back of the sofa. Danaus was a rare gift. He was strong, powerful, and intelligent. I wanted the pleasure of picking apart his secrets, and then I wanted to hunt him. The challenge he offered was worth a little work, a little risk.

  Minutes ticked by with only the roar of the wind outside the plane filling the tense air. He stared at me, as if weighing his options. They weren’t great and I couldn’t promise to protect him even if he did deliver the information. If an Elder stepped in, I would have to back off.

  “Luck,” he said at last.

  “Luck?”

  “He was following you. I caught him off guard and knocked him out.”

  I smiled and shook my head. I don’t know whether I completely believed it, but only Nerian would be so cocky as to not pay attention to a human that close to him. Of course, I was beginning to wonder how badly I was underestimating Danaus as
well.

  “How long did you have him?”

  “A week.”

  I nodded, rising to my feet. I stood in front of him for a moment, hands on hips, my legs spread against the slight turbulence. He tensed but his hands didn’t move toward the knives concealed on his body. I didn’t know how much, if any, information he had dragged out of the insane naturi, but a week was enough time to get some juicy tidbits. I was going to have to kill Danaus soon. His interesting qualities would be outweighed by the fact that he was becoming too dangerous to leave alive.

  “Have you learned anything about Rowe?”

  “Nothing yet. My contacts are still digging,” he said.

  I couldn’t begin to guess at whom he was in contact with or how they would acquire information about the naturi. While nightwalkers stuck to the shadows and were diligent about maintaining our secrecy, the naturi were mere ghosts in this world.

  With a sigh, I walked to the back of the jet and curled up in Michael’s lap. He wrapped his large arms around me and held me against his chest. I placed my ear against his heart, letting the steady rhythm soothe my mind. My right hand restlessly played with the hair at the nape of his neck while the other rested on his shoulder. My thoughts calmed as I lay in his warmth.

  I didn’t want to be a part of this. I wanted to live in my city and seek pleasures where I found them. My great deed had been done more than five hundred years ago, and I walked away from my kind after that, never seeking a nightwalker companion for more than a night or two. But now I was being pulled back down into their ranks, sucked deeper into the mire. I could struggle all I wanted, but there would be no escaping.

  Nine

  I awoke to find myself locked in a box. For a brief moment a wave of panic surged through my frame and I nearly screamed. I thrust my hands against the top, which sank against the cool, silk lining. With eyes closed and teeth clenched, I willed the wave of fear to subside. It had been a long time since I’d done the old coffin bit. Most of the time, I slept in a windowless room on a king-sized bed covered in silk sheets. I had forgotten about traveling to Luxor, about Danaus, and Nerian. By now we should be drawing close to Aswan, home to the Tombs of the Nobles, the island temple of Philae, and the doorway to the old Nubian kingdom and Jabari.

  With my hands on my stomach, I relaxed the muscles in my arms, waiting for the calm to sink back into the marrow of my bones. If I was going to steer myself out of this mess without getting killed, I needed to be calm and thinking clearly. Resisting the urge to sigh, I reached over and flipped the interior locks to the coffin. I call it a coffin, but it was actually a large box made of a nearly indestructible, lightweight alloy. The interior had been lined with red silk cushions, not that it really mattered. When daylight hit, I could sleep just as comfortably on a bed of broken glass. There was a pair of locks on the interior, ensuring that no one could open it from the outside. It went with me whenever I traveled, and I kept a spare at my private residence.

  Pushing open the lid on its silent hinges, I sat up, grateful to find that no one was about to see my “rising from the dead” act. The quaint little room with walls made of dark wood was empty. The box rested on a full-sized bed covered with a colorful hand-stitched quilt. The curtains on the small windows were pulled back, revealing dark skies. Beyond, I could hear an engine running and the lap of water. We were traveling down the Nile. A ball of excitement tightened in my stomach and I struggled to keep from biting my lower lip like a giddy schoolgirl. It had been centuries since I last saw the sand dunes of Egypt.

  I was climbing out of my private resting spot when someone knocked on the door. A brief stretch of my powers revealed that it was Michael, right on time. “Come in.” He stepped into the room, wearing the same black shirt and pants from the previous night. His shoulder holster was missing, but I could feel Gabriel taking up his post at the door.

  The young bodyguard was his usual handsome self, blond hair tossed by the wind. He already smelled of Egypt, with its exotic spices and history. His sharp blue eyes swept over the room as he cataloged his surroundings before settling back on me. He was good at his job, taking my protection very seriously. It was a nice feeling to have someone who wanted to see me rise every night. Sure, it was his job, but most of my own kind would rather shove a stake through my heart.

  Prior to taking up the position as my bodyguard, Michael had briefly served in the Marines, accounting for most of his training. I didn’t know how he came to be recruited by Gabriel and I’d never asked. My guardian angel had his connections and I left it at that.

  At first, guarding me was just been a job for Michael; a well-paying job, but still just a job. After a couple of years that changed. For him, I became a source of strength and intense pleasure. I also fulfilled his deep need to protect.

  For me, he became both a comfort and a distraction when my thoughts grew too dark. There was still something strangely innocent in his eyes and an eagerness to please me that was endearing. He treated me as though there was something still human in me. To him, I was never a monster, no matter what he saw me do.

  I extended my hand to him, needing the physical contact. “Is all well?”

  He wrapped his long fingers around my hand as he walked over to me, his intense gaze never straying from my face. “Yes.”

  The sound of the engine dulled and I concentrated on the steady throb of his heart. Its pace quickened the closer he came, causing his face to flush. “Was there any trouble in Luxor?”

  “No, everything went as Ms. Godwin instructed. We have just come within sight of Aswan. The captain says we should dock in another fifteen minutes.”

  When he stood only inches from me, I released his hand and slid my palms up his arms and across his shoulders. I had taken my boots off before dawn, putting me at a flat-footed five feet six inches at best; rather tall considering people six hundred years ago were much shorter but still roughly a foot shorter than my guardian angel.

  His warm lips brushed against my temple in a gentle caress. “I missed you.” He lifted his hands and lightly placed them on the sides of my waist as if he was afraid he would break me with his touch.

  “I guess I should travel more,” I whispered, threading my fingers through his hair, enjoying the feel of his silky locks.

  His lips moved down from my temple and along the line of my jaw. “We could meet outside of work.”

  A low noise similar to a cat’s purr rumbled from the back of my throat, and I rose up on the tips of my toes so his soft lips could reach more of my flesh. I needed Michael. I needed his warmth and vitality. It reminded me of my own shredded humanity. It also fought back the darker urges that screamed for me to throw him to the ground and drain him dry.

  “I think something can be arranged.” My lips brushed against his throat as I spoke, teasing me. So close. Less than an inch and my fangs would be embedded.

  “Yes.” There was more air in the word than actual sound. His hands tightened on my waist. I could feel the trembling need in the muscles stretching up his arms. He was fighting the desire to crush me against his body, molding me to him. From past encounters, he knew I liked to prolong the moment when time allowed, basking in all the sensations flooding my mind.

  “Lay on the bed,” I said, stepping back from him. Michael moved around me and pushed the box to the far side of the bed. He stretched out his long body and for a moment I stood at his side, admiring his peaceful expression. I had spent the first few centuries of my existence hunting down my prey, wrestling them to the ground, and it always felt a little strange when my meal came to me with arms open. Some of the rush spilled from the moment, but my thirst was already starting to make itself known, petty thoughts pushed to the back of my mind.

  Crawling onto the bed, I straddled his narrow hips. I was beginning to see a distinct pattern when it came to the men in my life, but the position made feeding easier. It also allowed me the pleasure of pressing the full length of my body against his. I leaned forward with my fo
rearms on each side of his head and pressed slow kisses against each eyelid, his nose, and along his left jaw. Beneath me, I felt him sigh as if the tension was unraveling from around his soul. I pressed a long, lingering kiss to his lips, carefully drawing his tongue in my mouth, enjoying the taste of him. His strong hands slipped under my shirt and slid up my bare back, pulling me more tightly against him. His body hardened beneath me and I suppressed my own frustrated sigh. There just wasn’t enough time for everything.

  Pulling reluctantly away from his mouth, I slid my lips down his jaw to his throat. The tip of my tongue ran over the heavy pulse that throbbed there before I finally sank my fangs deep into his flesh. He stiffened against the sudden pain then relaxed again. Drawing the sweet blood into my body, I sent a warm, tingling wave of intense pleasure through his body. He moaned as it swept into his limbs. I drank deeply, pulling his life into my thin frame until I could taste his heartbeat, feel it vibrating down in my own chest.

  His hands slid down over my rear, kneading my body, keeping me pressed against him. He moaned my name; his hips shifted and rose off the bed. Except for our clothes, he would have been inside of me. The thought sent a shudder through my taut body, and I twisted the blankets in my fists. The feeling of his warm blood filling my veins was already quite satisfying, but the desire to have all of him was coiling tighter in my body. I ground my hips against him, a pure animal growl rumbling in the back of my throat as I reveled in the hardness of his body.

  Releasing my grip on the blanket, I slipped my left hand under his shirt, running it up along his ribs. My thumb grazed his nipple before heading back down to his flat stomach. His skin was so warm and enticing, an intoxicating combination of hard muscle and soft flesh.

  My hand brushed against the button on his pants as my fingers skimmed along the soft flesh just below the edge of his underwear. His hips lifted again, pressing into me, his body demanding entrance. With every last ounce of self-control I had, I put my hand back beside his head, wrapping my fingers in the blanket. I wanted him so badly I could scream, but I wouldn’t be happy with a quickie. It had been too long and I wanted to linger over him. And Michael was worth the wait.