Marisa woke slowly, a smile on her face, as the last remnants of a wonderful dream faded away. She had been making love to Grigori, and it had been the most amazing experience of her life. She rolled onto her side, came face-to-face with the man of her dreams, and knew it hadn't been a dream at all.
She pulled the sheet up under her arms and regarded the man sleeping beside her. How handsome he was! She smiled as she recalled the night past, glad that she had waited, glad that he had been the first man to make love to her. He had been so gentle, so tender, so eager to please and pleasure her. He had made love to her three times, and each time had been better than the last.
She had felt his mind probing hers, melding with hers. It had been incredible. She had felt every beat of his heart, every breath, knew the same excitement, the same ecstacy he did. Had he felt hers in return?
She glanced at the window. Dark green drapes lined with black shut out the morning light, reminding her that she had not married an ordinary man. She looked at Grigori again. He seemed to be sleeping, but was he, or was he trapped in some kind of darkness, unable to move?
She lifted her hand, hesitated, and then placed it over his heart. It was beating slowly, steadily, but he didn't move. Could he feel her touch?
"Grigori?"
His eyelids fluttered open. "What is it you wish?"
"Nothing, I just wondered - "
He raised one brow. "What?"
"I thought maybe... I mean, well - "
She started to draw her hand away, but he covered it with his own. "Is there something you need?"
"It's morning."
"I know." His body felt heavy, sluggish.
"I thought that - " She shrugged one shoulder. "How can you be awake?"
"It isn't easy," he replied with a wry grin. Indeed, he could feel the darkness calling him. "I must rest, cara mia."
"Okay." She bent down to kiss him. "See ya later."
He pressed a kiss to her palm, and then his eyelids fluttered down.
She watched him a moment. His eyelashes were short and thick, his hair was mussed. He was beautiful.
Slipping out of bed, Marisa went to take a shower. Her body ached a little, reminding her of the night past. Making love to Grigori had been everything she had hoped it would be, and more.
He was deeply asleep when she returned to the bedroom. She dressed quickly, kissed him lightly on the cheek, and went downstairs.
He had been busy since the last time she had been at the house. The fridge and the cupboards were filled with food.
She opened the egg carton and found a note inside. She unfolded it. I love you. She smiled as she tucked it into her pants pocket.
There was a note inside the coffee canister: I love you. You're beautiful. Another inside the sugar bowl: I am dreaming of you. Inside the silverware drawer, she found his Mastercard, a couple hundred dollars in cash, and another note: Go buy us some living room furniture, something we can snuggle on in front of the fire.
She fixed breakfast, turned on the radio, and then sat down to eat. Maybe she would quit her job, she mused. She didn't have to work anymore. It might be fun to stay home. She could sleep late every morning, spend her days reading, or gardening, or shopping, or doing anything else she pleased.
She gazed out the window. The backyard was huge. There was a pool, a large covered patio, a gazebo, a rose garden. Of course, the yard was overgrown with weeds.
She put her dishes in the dishwasher, poured another cup of coffee, then went out to get the morning paper.
She was sorry the minute she opened it.
TERROR STALKS THE STREETS
VAMPIRE KILLER STRIKES AGAIN
Inside, she sat down and read the story. The body of a young man had been found in a ditch near West Road.
Marisa stared at the headlines. She had lost count of how many killings there had been. In the last two weeks, she had refused to think about Alexi, refused to let him or anything else intrude on what was supposed to be the happiest time of her life. But she couldn't ignore it anymore, couldn't forget that it had been the scent of her blood that had aroused him from a century of sleep.
How could she have gone blithely on, planning her wedding, having a good time, when people were being murdered, when she was partly responsible?
She had to do something. But what? If he returned to the past to rest during the day, they would never find him. And if Edward and Grigori hadn't been able to find him, what hope did she have?
And yet they had to find him, had to stop him. But how?
Feeling a sudden need to see Grigori, she put the newspaper aside and went upstairs.
Standing in the doorway, she watched him sleep. What was it like for him? she wondered. What was it like to live for hundreds of years? Did one grow weary of living, of being forever young? She had often wished she could live forever, and now the means was within her grasp. Would Grigori make her a vampire if she asked it of him?
She moved closer to the bed, watching the nearly invisible rise and fall of his chest. What would it be like to be a vampire, to watch her friends and family grow old and die? Would living forever be worth the price of losing everyone she loved? It might be fun, if she could go on as she was now, but that would be impossible. She would have to be always on her guard, never able to tell her friends what she was. There would be no more beach parties in the summer, no more Christmas mornings with her family. No more company Fourth of July picnics, or vacations at the lake. No children...
She felt a tug at her heart. There would be no children for her in any case, not as long as she was married to Grigori.
If she called his name, would he hear her? If she crawled into bed beside him, would he awake and take her in his arms?
"Grigori?"
She moved closer to the bed and called a little louder. "Grigori?"
His eyelids fluttered open and he gazed up at her. "Cara, is something wrong?"
"No. I was" - she shrugged - "lonesome for you."
He held out one arm in silent invitation and she slid under the covers.
"Does it bother you to be awake during the day?"
"No, but it is difficult, when the sun is high."
"Maybe I should let you rest."
"No." He hugged her to him. "I thought you would be out shopping."
"That's what I was going to do, but then I read the paper. We've got to do something, Grigori. We've got to stop him."
"Alexi."
"There's got to be a way. He can't be infallible."
"If he has a weakness, I have yet to find it." He smiled lazily as he took her hand in his and licked her palm. "I have a weakness, cara mia. Shall I tell you what it is?"
She shivered with delight as he licked the inside of her wrist. "I think I can guess."
"Can you?" He rained kisses on the inside of her arm, licked the bend of her elbow.
She leaned closer and kissed him, felt his free arm slide around her waist, and then she was lying on top of him, her breasts crushed against his chest. "I thought vampires were weak and vulnerable during the day."
"You make me weak," he murmured. "Weak with wanting you."
"Do I?"
"Cara..."
She ran her hands through his hair, feathered kisses over his brow, his cheeks. His hands slid restlessly up and down her back, and then he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her, his tongue teasing her lips until, with a low moan, she opened to him.
He caressed her out of her clothing, and then there was nothing between them but desire and his mouth on hers. She felt his power surround her, felt the world spinning away, until there were only the two of them, caught up in a magical sphere where touch was everything. Her whole body tingled with awareness, and then they were one, joined flesh to flesh and heart to heart. He carried her to the brink, and when she was teetering on the edge, she felt the touch of his teeth at her throat, heard him groan with pleasure as they plunged over the abyss together. It was like free-falling through a rainbow.
Breathless, she collapsed on top of him. He murmured her name, his hands stroking her back. She felt his tongue whisper down the side of her neck and only then remembered that he had bitten her.
"Does it bother you?" he asked.
"Reading my mind again?" she asked, her tone mildly accusing.
"It is difficult not to, especially now." His arms tightened around her.
"Well, it's not fair. I should be able to read yours, too."
"You can, if you wish."
"Really?" She propped herself up on her elbows. "How?"
"I have given you my blood. You need only concentrate."
She couldn't help it. Remembering that he had given her his blood, that she had drunk it, even if she couldn't remember, made her shudder with revulsion.
He didn't move, but she felt him withdraw from her.
"I'm sorry."
He didn't say anything, only gazed up at her, his expression impassive.
"Alexi told me he could taste you on his tongue."
"It was necessary."
She glanced at his throat, wondering what his blood had tasted like. "Can I really read your mind?"
"Try."
Brow furrowed in concentration, she stared at him, then shook her head. "It isn't working."
"Don't try so hard. Just relax, let your thoughts touch mine."
It wasn't like before, when he had planted his thoughts in her mind. She tried to connect her thoughts to his, and failed. And then, as if he had opened a door, she heard his voice inside her head.
"You can do it, cara," he said, and his thoughts blazed a trail for her to follow.
"What am I thinking, cara mia?"
"That we should go to Italy again."
He smiled. "You see? You can do it."
"And all because you gave me a little of your blood." She traced the line of his mouth with her fingertip. "Didn't the idea of drinking blood repulse you when you first became a vampire?"
"No. Once the change took place, I craved it as a drunkard craves wine. It was sweet on my tongue, sweeter than anything I had ever tasted."
In the beginning, when the Hunger controlled him, when he feared he would never get enough to satisfy the craving, he had taken more than he needed, and in so doing, had taken lives as well. Eventually, he had learned to take less and thus spare the lives of those he used. The lives of those he had needlessly killed haunted him still.
"Cara..."
"Am I heavy?"
"No." He brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. He could feel the darkness creeping over him, dragging him toward oblivion. "I fear I must rest a little longer."
"All right." She kissed him, then slid out of bed. Gathering her clothes, she went into the bathroom and shut the door.
When she emerged, showered and dressed twenty minutes later, he was asleep.
She spent the afternoon at the mall. It was fun to wander from shop to shop, knowing she didn't have to check the price tags, that she could buy whatever caught her fancy. She bought two lamps and a painting for the living room, a new dress for herself, a black jacket for Grigori, a couple of compact discs for Mike Junior, a Gone With the Wind Barbie for Nikki, a baby doll for Mindy, a teddy bear for Danny. She bought a blue negligee for Barbara, and a black one for herself, picked up a sweater for Mike. She bought a couple of John Wayne videos for her father, a new bathrobe for her mother.
"Christmas in January," she mused as she stowed her packages in the trunk of the Corvette. "I could get used to this."
It was rather nice to be a lady of leisure, to sleep late, to make love to her husband in the afternoon.
Her husband, the vampire. The thought made her grin. She imagined going to lunch with Linda and casually dropping that bit of news into the conversation.
Sliding behind the wheel, she switched on the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot, wondering if Linda would believe her, or think she had gone completely insane. The latter, most likely. Still, there were people who believed in vampires. There were fan magazines and web sites, all dedicated to the undead. People showed up on talk shows, claiming to be vampires. She had always thought they were just a bunch of bizarre people looking for their fifteen minutes of fame, but now... maybe they really were vampires. Maybe the world was full of the undead. And if vampires existed, maybe there really were aliens and werewolves. Maybe all the creatures of myth and legend actually existed.
It was almost five when she pulled into the driveway of the house. Collecting her packages from the trunk, she paused a moment and studied the house, noticing, for the first time, that it looked a lot like the gloomy old houses Dracula haunted in the movies. Perhaps a paint job would brighten the place up, make it look less like a haunted house and more like a home. She stared at the peeling green paint, trying to imagine what the house would look like painted Dutch blue with white trim. The front yard was overgrown with weeds. Maybe tomorrow she'd buy some gardening tools and get to work. Or maybe she'd just hire someone to do it for her. Going up the front walk, she thought that she'd like to plant roses in the front yard, and maybe put some fruit trees out back.
Filled with plans for redecorating, she walked up the porch steps. She slid the key in the lock, but before she turned it, the door whooshed open.
She stood poised on the threshold, wondering if she should go inside, or turn and run. "Grigori?"
She took a step inside, ears straining. "Grigori?"
She heard nothing, sensed nothing. Surely if Alexi was here, she would know it.
Moving quietly, she put her shopping bags on the floor and tiptoed through the downstairs, turning lights on as she went.
Nothing.
For a moment, she stood at the bottom of the staircase, one hand on the banister, and then she started up the steps.
