NIGHT SONG Read online

  The vampire staggered. Back on solid ground, she grabbed him by the collar of his coat. Flipping the stake in her hand, she held the point over his heart and smiled. The power that surged through her gave her a high like nothing else. She was this vamp’s judge and jury and she’d just sentenced him to death.

  “No, Kathryn, not yet.” The familiar vibrato washed over her, taking her edge with it. He was back, in the alley, and had shaken her concentration. Dammit!

  Ian moved quickly, grabbing the vampire around the neck, and vanished.

  “Son of a bitch!” she hollered, for the second time that night.

  What was he doing?

  “Who the hell do you think you are?” Her words echoed all around her, and then fell flat to the ground. It was no use. He was long gone.

  The anger in her voice must have jarred something loose in the woman’s head because she turned to Kathryn, and then looked around the alley.

  “Are you okay?” Kathryn asked, only half caring about the answer.

  “I don’t know. What am I doing here?”

  That was the beauty of Kathryn’s magic. She could erase a vampire from memory as easily as chalk from a chalkboard. It came in handy on nights like this. The last thing she needed was some crazed co-ed blabbering about being attacked. The less people knew, the better.

  “You must have had too much to drink. Are you with anyone? Can I call you a cab?”

  Kathryn put an arm around the woman and walked her out of the alley and into the light of the street. This was not what she’d hoped to be doing at this point in the evening. She’d hoped to be standing over Ian’s disintegrated body joyously doing a happy dance. She should be dreaming of all the ways to spend the one million dollars as she clutched his talisman in her hand.

  She swallowed the anger and frustration that threatened to boil over.

  There’s always tomorrow.

  Looking both ways down the street, the woman finally said, “There,” and pointed to a bar with several cars parked in front of it.

  Walking toward the neon lights, Kathryn couldn’t help but think this isn’t over.

  Somewhere in the far reaches of her mind she heard a faint laugh. Oh no my Kitty Kat. We’ve only just begun.

  Chapter Two

  “Let him feed then bring him to me.” Ian shoved the foreigner towards his most trusted men and continued walking down the long corridor that lead to his private quarters.

  He was tired. Bone tired. The constant struggle, the war he waged nightly against the darkest of his kind took its toll.

  He was the executioner of his people and his men were his henchmen.

  He roamed the night looking for those who’d strayed. Who’d followed the path of darkness.

  There were rules, guidelines, and etiquette.

  Feed only off of those who agree, never harm an unwilling human, never--and this was the most important one—never fuck with the master vampire or any of his.

  Of course all vampires knew the rules. Ignorance was never the issue. Being one of the good ones was difficult. It took thought, patience, and perseverance. It took finding alternative blood supplies when a willing donor eluded them, and fighting the urge to only feed, not kill.

  It also meant saying no to Victor Petrikov when he called. Looking in the face of the most powerful, evil force on the planet and walking away took unbelievable strength. Not every vamp could handle it.

  Ian sighed.

  And now Victor walked in his town, dangling a golden carrot in front of his vampires. Could they resist the temptation?

  He ran his hands through his hair and moved deeper beneath the earth. The light from the sconces lining the walls did very little to illuminate the darkness.

  But he didn’t need light; his kind could easily see in the dark. He was the master vampire, the oldest vampire in the Western Hemisphere. Seeing in the dark was the least of his talents.

  When he reached the arch that lead to his inner sanctum, his sanctuary, relief exploded within him. It seeped into every nook and cranny of his body.

  He had no idea how he’d react to seeing her again. Watching her as she so patiently waited for him drove him crazy. His body ached with an intensity that surprised him. He wanted, no needed, to be near her.

  Just seeing her made him feel younger, more alive.

  He chuckled.

  Alive. That was an odd choice of words. He would never be alive again. But when he was with her, near her, it was close to the truth.

  Lately he’d felt so old, and so tired. Her warmth and vitality energized him, made every cell in his body charged. When they’d been together, eternity didn’t seem long enough. Since they’d been apart, he’d contemplated greeting the sunrise.

  Loneliness did that, the complete and total loneliness that had become the truth of his existence. And after meeting her, knowing her, her body, her scent, he knew that without her he would gladly meet the dawn. Without her, he didn’t want to continue. She was his other half, his missing piece.

  His soul.

  Turned all those many centuries ago, his soul was lost, stolen from him. It was that way for all his kind--creatures of the night. Vampires. Only finding his other half could return it. He’d found Kat.

  He’d known it the second she arrived in this life. His savior.

  Opening the door to his bedroom, his most private of spaces, the last of his worries melted away. It had been too long. Five years was far too long to be away from his home, from her. Every day gone felt like a thousand. The knowledge that he’d be back is what kept him going.

  No other place in the world felt like home, no other property he owned made him this calm, or this content. But then Kat lived here. She was his home. With her he found the place where his body and mind were at ease. Only in her, through her could he find peace.

  Ian sat on the black suede comforter and slowly unlaced his boots. Never out of his mind was the way she looked sitting in the booth, her long legs cramped beneath her, her dark hair curling just below her shoulders.

  He ached to have those legs wrapped around him once again, as he plunged himself deep within her.

  His shaft grew hard and pressed against the leather of his pants. How he yearned to hear his name spill from her lips. It sounded like sweet nectar when she called out to him in climax. His fingers burned to entwine in the silken strands of her onyx hair.

  He rubbed the pads of his fingers together. He could feel it now, the softness of it, like liquid midnight.

  If only she wasn’t so determined to kill him. That did put a damper on things.

  The phone next to his bed rang, jarring him from his thoughts.

  “Yes?”

  “He’s ready.”

  Sighing, he hung up the phone, finished untying his boots and kicked them off. From his armoire he removed a t-shirt and threw it on the bed. Mindlessly, he undressed.

  The last five years he’d spent chasing the one man who could bring him down, the one man on the planet that had more power, more knowledge than he. How ironic the chase led him back to Denver, back to her. But then why wouldn’t it? His enemy wanted her too.

  The time wasted away infuriated him. He’d connected with her mind often, reading her thoughts and desires as easily as a children’s book, but it wasn’t the same. Her body cried out to his. And his body longed to answer. But he couldn’t let Victor run. Couldn’t let him roam freely and sit back and wait. Victor was too dangerous. Kat was too precious. And the threat to them both was too real, so for five long years he stayed away.

  Anger erupted through him, and squeezed at his lungs. Never! Victor would never have her!

  He immediately gained control of his emotions.

  Not now. Now he needed to focus.

  His anger vanished.

  Grabbing a pair of jeans, he quickly slipped them on, pulled the t-shirt over his head and stretched. This was much more comfortable than the leather he wore earlier, but then he’d dressed for her. He knew what she liked
. And from the thoughts that swirled around in her head as she watched him from across the diner, he’d been right.

  Walking out of his rooms and back into the hall, he only wished for two things: First, that he could get the information quickly from whomever waited for him in the meeting room. And second, and most importantly, that his Kitty Kat would come looking for him again soon.

  ***

  “I had him, Mark. He was right there. And then that woman screamed, and…”

  “You had to help her.”

  Kathryn nodded, throwing her pack on the old tattered couch. The anger and disappointment of the night consumed her like rancid oil that bled into every pore, and threatened to drown every fiber of her body.

  Mark walked to her and wrapped her in his arms. “You did what you had to do. Tomorrow’s another day.”

  She looked up at him and smiled. His blue eyes twinkled and his red hair shone gold under the overhead lights.

  Mark Davis was her best friend, business associate and big brother all rolled into one. When their boss had rescued her from a vampire attack ten years ago, Mark tended to her.

  Lowering her head, she rested her temple against his chest. The beat of his heart calmed her. The thought of that night sent her emotions raging out of control.

  She sighed and concentrated on his heart’s steady rhythm.

  She’d almost died that night.

  After she’d healed, Mark trained her to be the expert slayer she was. She owed Mark, and M.S. Inc., her very life.

  She’d been only seventeen when the attack occurred. Her parents had been killed and she would’ve too if Martin Steel, the owner of M.S. Inc. hadn’t come to her aid.

  Kathryn swallowed past the burning in her throat. Ten years and she still didn’t understand why it had happened. Why attack her family? Why kill her parents and spare her?

  Fortunately, her brother was at a friend’s house that night. But Kathryn had been almost turned, her blood sucked by the vile creature that attacked her, and was left with complications she wouldn’t wish on anyone.

  With heightened senses, the light of the sun, the noise of traffic, even the roar of a rock concert were no longer her friends.

  And her strength.

  She was stronger than ten men, able to kick the crap out of vampires much larger than her and not even break a sweat. Okay, that power wasn’t such a bad thing.

  And she could erase memories. She wasn’t even sure how she did that one. Simply willing an individual to remember or forget something made it so. It was eerie.

  Put that all together and you have Kathryn Clark: Vampire Slayer. But not just any slayer. She was the top slayer in the country.

  Every night she and her associates roamed the streets of Denver in search of rogue vampires, the ones that didn’t play by the rules. Always ready, she hunted without fear and fought without reservation.

  It was an endless, tireless, thankless job. One that was so secret only other slayers and a handful of trusted law enforcement officials knew of it.

  Kathryn lingered in the shadows, hunting by instinct and moonlight. Night after night she risked her life to protect the people of Denver.

  No one believed vampires were real. Hell, she hadn’t either ‘til the attack. If only she could still be so naive. There was something to be said for being clueless.

  Now Martin and the slayers at M.S. Inc. were her and Jimmy’s family and her only friends. They had kept Jimmy out of the horror of Kathryn’s reality and for that she was indebted to them all.

  Jimmy believed M.S. Inc. was a private investigation agency.

  The way she looked at it, a portion of the million dollars would be a nice payback.

  Vampires, powers and death, oh my!

  Kathryn snorted at her halfhearted attempt at humor. Since becoming a slayer, she’d had very little reason to laugh or even smile.

  Her life sucked.

  Keep your eye on the prize.

  “What’s Ian doing back?” Kathryn moved from Mark and threw herself onto the couch. The cushions sagged with her weight and gave her little support but after the night she’d had, it felt like heaven.

  Straightening her legs, she tried to work out the stiffness. It didn’t help much.

  “Maybe he’s back for you.” Mark perched himself on the arm of the couch and looked down at her.

  “Very funny.” She crossed her arms and stuck out her chin. She and Ian were nothing to joke about.

  There was a pause for a moment; so many questions seemed to hang in the air between them. Kathryn held her breath.

  “Can you kill him?” Mark finally asked.

  It was a valid question and something she wondered herself. She’d fallen in love with a vampire. Albeit a very hot, sexy vampire, he was the undead nonetheless.

  Kathryn had met Ian one sweltering summer evening ten years ago. She, a slayer in the infancy of her career, he…

  She reached to the spot just above her heart and pressed her palm into her chest. Her heart beat erratically.

  He was…sexy as sin. Instantly her mind filled with him, the way his body moved so fluidly, like liquid sex, how the deep timbre of his voice resonated through her very tissue ending in a pool of desire directly at her core.

  Ian had moved out of the shadows that night and straight in to her heart.

  He was strong and confident, worshipped by some, hated by others but respected by all. His knowledge, his experience helped her when no one else could.

  Who could understand the changes in her better than a vampire?

  Ian ran the city with an iron fist giving the slayers at M.S. Inc. and especially Kathryn, the freedom to do their job. And what they couldn’t find, couldn’t protect, couldn’t kill, Ian could, would and did.

  Their relationship was professional in the beginning, mentor to protégé, but it grew slowly into something more, much more. With Ian, Kathryn became confident and strong.

  Ian’s persona had rubbed off on her, gave her courage and conviction where once shame and doubt lived. Ian had given her the greatest gift of all, the gift of pride.

  It was a partnership that worked perfectly for five wonderful years. Kathryn had been happy, content. Until that night.

  Kathryn shivered. The memory, the shocking realization still stopped her breath.

  He was the one.

  She discovered it as they lay in bed. Wrapped in each other’s arms. Her body drummed with excitement from making love for the first time.

  With her head resting in the crook of his arm, she’d lazily run her fingers across the skin over his pecs and felt it—the raised ridges of a scar only a few millimeters above his heart.

  Her skin covered in a thick film of sweat and anger boiled in her stomach remembering it now. She’d been so stupid back then. So trusting.

  Ian was the walking dead. The undead. And the scar. The discolored spot where Martin’s silver blade punctured his flesh. It was right after he’d pulled Ian from her neck. The night her parents died.

  No, she hadn’t seen his face, but the scar proved it. He was there and he’d killed her family.

  A longing tugged at her heart, bore into her very soul. Could she kill the one, the only man that had ever given her peace?

  She had a million very good reasons why she should.

  Her life was thanks to a vampire. It was only because of daily anti serum injections that she could remain human.

  Is that what she was? Human? She was the most successful vampire slayer in the country. She killed for a living. Did that make her human?

  Rubbing her arms, her pulse quickened and her skin felt clammy. She’d wanted to kill him that night, the night she discovered the scar, but couldn’t. She’d simply left and failed. She failed so miserably that it took her—and her heart—years to recover.

  Had she recovered?

  She’d fallen for a mark, a monster, a killer. Yet, just seeing him sent her body humming to a tune only he could sing.

  “Yes,” she f
inally answered. “I can kill him.”

  Mark looked at her. Slowly he nodded his head but she could see the disbelief etched on his face.

  ***

  “Tell me who sent you!” The captive sat on an oak chair in the middle of the meeting room with his wrists and ankles bound in silver. Noble Rothwell slowly circled, keeping himself out of striking distance.

  Who better to know how to torture a vampire than another vampire?

  “I’m here on my own. I’m looking for a new nest.” The prisoner squirmed in the chair and hissed. The pain from the silver obviously caused him great discomfort.

  Good. Let’s keep it that way.

  Uncrossing his legs, Ian pushed himself away from the wall and walked towards their visitor. Of course this couldn’t be easy. It never was.

  “Why here?” Ian asked, standing only inches away from the man. Noble retreated to stand by the wall.

  The captive’s blonde hair was wet and matted to his head, and his body covered with a pink tinge of sweat. His eyes were wild, like those of a caged animal, as they darted around the room.

  “Why not here?” He spat the words at Ian.

  Ian motioned to one of the men. Nodding, the man turned and opened a wooden case mounted on the wall behind him. He removed a glove and slipped it over his hand then opened yet another door and pulled out a long silver spike.

  Ian watched the prisoner carefully. He wouldn’t think it possible but his eyes widened.

  “You wouldn’t.” Fighting against the shackles, he twisted and writhed from the pain.

  “Oh, but I would.” The man tossed the stake to Ian, who caught it with his bare hand.

  The metal burned, scorched his skin until smoke and the smell of singed flesh filled the room. It hurt like hell, but not as badly as it would the captive. He was going to get it through his heart. That would almost kill him-almost.

  The vampire let out a blood-curdling cry that, had there been windows, would have shattered the glass.

  “No! No! You can’t!” he screamed.

  Ian inched ever so slowly towards him. The stake still burned. The smell was suffocating.