When he reached the vampire’s body he found it blackened and singed, the hair smoldering. It gave off the unmistakable stench of evil. If this one had stalked Alexandria, no doubt their home was being watched. He looked up at the night sky and sent his challenge. Clouds raced forward, dark and ominous, heralding retribution. Come for me. You sought out my city, my home, my family. I am waiting for you. The wind carried his words over the city, and somewhere, far off, like a distant clap of thunder, a bellow of anger answered him, the frenzied barking of dogs adding to the din.
His white teeth gleamed like a predator’s as Aidan sent his silent laughter winging its way to his adversary. The challenge made, he bent over what remained of this vampire. Though he had spent much time with Gregori, he had never seen anything like this before. The vampire’s chest was blown away, but his tainted blood had not seeped out because the wound was cauterized by the blast. The heart had turned to black, useless ashes. He shook his head. Gregori was nature at its most lethal.
Aidan stepped back from the abomination with a sense of sadness and inevitability. He had known this fallen creature, had grown up with him. This man was nearly two hundred years younger than he, yet he had turned. Why? Why did some of them hold out and some give in so quickly? Was it strength of character in those who endured? A loss of belief in any future for those who turned? Mikhail and Gregori struggled endlessly to bring their race hope, yet this man was proof they weren’t succeeding. Too many of them were turning. The numbers increased with every passing century. It was no wonder Gregori was tired of hunting, of fighting the demon that was always within him. How did one hunt former friends, century after century, without becoming as hopeless as those he pursued?
Aidan had to go home. He needed Alexandria’s arms around him. He needed her warmth and compassion. He needed her body burning around his, telling him he was alive and had not become death. But he had become death to many of his kind, those who had turned, those he had hunted, and he knew it.
Aidan, come home to me. You are not deadly. You are gentle and kind. Look at you with Joshua. With Marie and Stefan. Gregori has made you melancholy.
So many of my people are lost, he mourned.
All the more reason to fight, to keep going. There is hope. We found each other, didn’t we? Others will, too. She sent him an image of herself, of her sweater floating to the floor of the third-floor bath, the master suite steamy from the frothy Jacuzzi.
He began laughing softly, his spirits rising as quickly as they had plummeted. Alexandria was waiting for him, sexy and sweet. Light to his darkness, a beacon to guide him home.
That’s not all I am. Her voice was provocative. A wisp of lace floating to the floor filled his mind. Her breasts were bare, full, enticing. She was smiling, a siren’s invitation. You’re keeping me waiting.
Show me. Holding the picture of her in his mind, he moved away from the scarred corpse and began to rebuild the storm’s intensity.
Her hand went to the fly of her jeans. With infinite slowness she slipped each button from its hole. His breath caught in his throat as she hooked her thumbs in the waistband and inched the denim over her hips.
Come home and see. There was need in her voice, a little catch that sent his blood surging hotly. He lifted his face to the heavens, sent clouds whirling and darkening at his command. Like the roar in his blood, the waves leapt and slammed into shore, dousing the cliff with spray and foam. Thunder rumbled ominously, and veins of lightning flashed inside the clouds.
Come to me, Aidan. She was temptation. She was light while he created the darkness.
Lightning flashed to the ground, lit the sand with a shower of sparks, red tongues of flame licking at his very feet. He could feel her moving in his mind, her mouth on his skin, the sensation taking away the pain of death, the death of an old friend. Losing so many of his people nearly drove him mad.