Night's Master

Page 11

I cleared a throat gone suddenly dry. “Where are we?”
“My place.” He cut the engine and got out of the car.
His place. Oh, Lordy. Sitting in the restaurant with Cagin suddenly seemed a lot safer than accompanying a Vampire into his lair.
I was trying to think of a way to convince Raphael to take me home when he opened the car door and reached for my hand. The next thing I knew, he was leading me up the porch stairs. The front door, made of what looked like solid steel, opened seemingly of its own accord. Interior lights came on as I crossed the threshold ahead of Raphael.
The sound of the door closing behind me sent a shiver down my spine.
“Make yourself at home,” he invited.
The living room, sparsely furnished, was decorated in earth tones. The main focus of the room was an enormous fireplace that took up most of one wall. I stared at it, thinking it could easily hold an elephant or two. A deep brown leather sofa was situated in front of the biggest television screen I had ever seen. A pair of matching leather chairs faced the sofa. The carpet beneath my feet was a dazzling white. A large painting hung over the fireplace. It depicted a black knight astride an equally black horse. A large green dragon loomed in the distance. A collection of dragons made of onyx, jade, pewter, and carved wood were scattered on the mantel amid several black candles.
“Do you mind if I look around?” I asked.
“Help yourself.”
An arched doorway to my left opened onto the kitchen. I peered through the doorway, my gaze sweeping the room, noting that the kitchen was bare except for a small black refrigerator and a microwave oven. The countertop was black granite; the floor was white tile. There were no windows in the room, which I thought was odd, especially for a kitchen, and no back door. I wondered if Rafe had plastered over the windows to block the sun.
A short hallway opened off the kitchen. My feet made no sound on the thick carpet. The first door off the hall was a guest bathroom with a commode, sink, and a small shower. There were no windows in this room, and no mirrors. A small bedroom adjoined the bathroom. The walls were a pale moss green, the carpet white, the furnishings no more than a twin bed made of black wrought iron and an antique chest of drawers made of dark oak. Again, there were no mirrors in evidence, and no windows.
I tried the door at the end of the hallway, but it was locked. It was Rafe's room. I knew it as surely as I knew the sun would rise in the morning.
Backtracking, I returned to the living room, my feet sinking into the carpet's deep pile as I made my way to the sofa. I had never known anyone who had white carpeting before. My first thought was that bloodstains would be really hard to get out, but then I realized that he probably didn't bring his dinner home with him.
Raphael sat beside me. He made a gesture with his hand, and a fire sprang to life in the hearth.
“You should be a magician,” I muttered, remembering how he had opened the door and turned on the lights, all with a wave of his hand.
“The Great Cordova,” he remarked with a grin. “I like the sound of that.” And then his expression turned serious. “What were you doing with Cagin?”
“I wasn't ‘doing' anything with him. I was having dinner when he invited himself to join me. How did you know I was there, anyway?”
“As I said before, I could find you in the dark, ten feet down.”
I told myself I should be annoyed that he had been following me, or at least looking for me, but I couldn't be angry because it proved that he had been thinking about me, maybe missing me, and that pleased me to no end.
“Why does my being with Cagin make you so angry?”
“I don't like him. I don't trust him. Can I get you something to drink?”
“Like what?”A glass of blood in a crystal goblet? I banished the image from my mind.
“A glass of wine, a soft drink, a cup of coffee or tea?”
I blinked at him, surprised that he kept such a variety of beverages on hand.
Apparently reading my mind again, he said, “I bought them the night after we met.”
“So, you were that sure of me, were you?”
“Not sure,” he replied. “Hopeful.”
“Hopeful that you'd get me here and have your wicked way with me?” I asked, only half kidding.
He laughed, the way an indulgent parent might laugh at a precocious child. It reminded me that he was old enough to be my grandfather. Lord, in his eyes, I probablywas little more than an infant!
“What did Cagin want?”
“What?” The sudden change of topic gave me pause. One minute we were talking about intimate things and the next he was asking about a Were-creature. Was that why he had brought me here, to see if I had any inside information on the Weres? I lifted my chin defiantly. “He asked me out on another date.”
Rafe leaned forward, his hands clenched. “You didn't accept?”
I had his full attention now. “A girl has to date someone,” I said flippantly.
In a move faster than my eyes could follow, he was towering over me. “We talked about this before.”
I stared up at him. The man could be scary as hell when he wanted to.
“I want your promise,” he said. “Now, tonight, that you won't see him again.”
“I can't help it if he shows up where I am. I mean, what am I supposed to do if he comes into my store? Run away?”
“That's a good start.”
“Like I could outrun a Were-tiger,” I muttered drily.
Raphael gazed down at me, his expression softening. “Forgive me,” he said, resuming his seat. “It's just that I'm worried about you.”
“Worried? About me? Why?”
He hesitated, as though debating whether to tell me the hard truth or sugarcoat it with a lie. The truth won out. “You're important to me,” he said slowly, “and Cagin knows it. And until I know what side he's on, I'd rather you stayed away from him.”
I stared at Raphael, a sudden coldness sweeping through me. He didn't have to spell it out for me. Cagin and Raphael were enemies, that much was obvious. No doubt I would make an excellent hostage for the Werewolves. Even more frightening was the thought that, even though Raphael seemed fond of me, we hadn't known each other very long. There was no bond between us, no reason to think he would spill any secrets or turn traitor if my life was threatened.
Leaving Oak Hollow was starting to sound better and better.
Raphael shook his head. “It's too late for you to leave.”
“Stop that!”
He lifted one brow. “Stop what?”
“Reading my mind. It's very annoying.”
He laughed softly. “I'm sure it is.”
“How do you do it, anyway? Are you psychic on top of everything else?”
“In a way, although I have to admit, most people aren't as easy to read as you are.”
“And what makes me so easy to read?” I asked irritably.
He dragged his hand over his jaw, his expression thoughtful. “I'm not sure, but I've got a theory.”
“Would you like to share it with me?”
“You won't like it.”
I was sure of that.
“Do you believe in soul mates?” he asked. “One woman made for one man, that sort of thing?”
Feeling skeptical, I asked, “Do you believe in that sort of thing?”
He didn't move, but he suddenly seemed closer. “I never used to, until I met you.”
A romantic Vampire. Just what I needed. “And what makes me so different from anyone else?”
“Come on, Kathy, I know you feel it, too, that connection between us. It was there the first night I walked into your store.”
I wanted to contradict him, but I couldn't. I remembered all too clearly the night I had been in the back room at the bookstore. I had known the minute Raphael had entered the building. I'd had no explanation for it at the time, and while I wasn't sure I believed that we had been made for each other, we did seem to have some kind of extraordinary awareness of one another.
Logic made me shake my head in denial. He was sixty-two years older than I was, and a Vampire to boot. Unless fate was playing a really bad joke, there was no way on Earth that Raphael and I could be soul mates, or any other kind of mates, for that matter. And yet, even now, the attraction between us crackled like a live wire.
“We're supposed to be friends,” I said, my voice little more than a husky whisper. “Just friends. Remember?”
He nodded slowly, his gaze locked on mine. Dropping to his knees in front of me, he took one of my hands in his.
“I remember,” he said, his voice as rough around the edges as mine had been. “But I don't think it's possible.”
The flames in the hearth seemed to burn brighter, hotter. It felt like the room was closing in on me as I tried to draw my gaze away from Raphael's and failed. “Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“Whatever it is that you're doing.”
“Honey, I'm not doing anything.”
“I don't believe you.” It had to be some kind of Vampire magic. I mean, it just had to be. How could I feel this way about a Vampire, even if he was the best looking guy I had ever seen? I shook my head. “This…whatever it is I'm feeling, I don't believe it's real. It can't be real.”
“How can I convince you?”
“I don't know.” I pulled my hand from his and made a shooing motion. “For starters, you can give me some space.”
“Whatever you want.” Rising, he backed up several paces, putting some distance between us.
It didn't help. My skin felt too tight; my blood felt like it was on fire. It was hard to think, hard to remember to breathe.
“I need to go to the restroom,” I said, and then wondered if Vampires had the same needs as humans. After all, they didn't eat….
The look in his eyes told me he knew this for the ploy it was.