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Vampire Encounters - Second Chances
Copyright ã 2005 T.D. McKinney
ISBN: 1-55410-569-2
Cover art and design by Martine Jardin
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
Published by eXtasy Books, a division of Zumaya Publications, 2005
Look for us online at:
www.zumayapublications.com
www.extasybooks.com
The author would like to thank Aimée Masion, Kathy Toles, Deborah Savage, & Trudy Miller
"You need a real man."
"Lurleen! Please!" Samantha's smile was half-exasperated, half-amused.
"Well, it's true! When was the last time you went out on a date?" Lurleen tossed a carefully highlighted hank of ash-blond hair over her shoulder. "And discussing server issues and new programming concerns over lunch with Billy Wheaton doesn't count," she quickly added.
Sam sighed and pushed her more prosaic brown hair away from her face. "Billy Wheaton's married."
"Like I said, he doesn't count." Lurleen checked her reflection in the night-darkened window behind Sam. "Do these pants make me look fat?"
Sam was used to the tangents and convolutions inherent to conversations with her friend and just went with the flow of it. She was also used to the other woman's preoccupation with her looks. Sam often felt mousy and drab standing beside all that flamboyance. Still, Lurleen was her best friend, and Sam was more than willing to supply the reassurance she needed. "You weigh ninety-eight pounds with your boots on, and ten pounds of that is hairspray and make-up. Nothing makes you look fat. Fat wouldn't even make you look fat."
"That's why I love you, Sammie." Lurleen's west Texas accent was even denser and more pronounced than Sam's. She was also the only person alive who could get away with using that hated nickname. Anyone else who addressed Samantha as Sammie was likely to discover just how redneck Sam could be when she was agitated. But Lurleen was Sam's friend and had been since kindergarten. She'd picked up the nickname from Sam's father.
The only other person who dared use the diminutive was Sam's brother. But she hated to hear Frank say it. It reminded her her father was gone. It had been three years since Jock Bailey's death but the pain was still sharp. Frank couldn't seem to understand her lingering grief and despite his sister's repeated requests, he insisted on calling her by her family pet name. Oddly, it didn't hurt when Lurleen said 'Sammie'. Of course, Lurleen's voice wasn't nearly identical to Jock's, and didn't call up that sense of loss and sorrow. The twinge of grief was still there but it was somehow softer, and only made her feel wistful.
Lurleen grinned brightly at her friend, unfazed by dismal thoughts and pleased with the ego boost she'd just received. "You always make me feel good about me, Sammie."
Sam chuckled at the blonde's bouncy response. "That's what girlfriends are for. So who's got you all fancied up?"
Lurleen's grin grew and gained a certain salacious edge. Her eyes went glassy with desire and her voice dropped half an octave in pitch. "Edmundo."
"Lord help him," Sam said with just a hint of sarcasm. If she was any judge of Lurleen's intentions, Edmundo was in for a long and strenuous Friday night.
Sam glanced at her reflection in the window and firmly resisted the urge to feel jealous. She had no reason to dress up. With an inward sigh, she admitted she was about as far from dressed up as she could be. Her long brown hair was unfettered by styling products and hung free over her shoulders. It was tidy enough, but certainly not tinted and styled the way it would have been a few years earlier. There were no cosmetics on her face, and she couldn't remember the last time she bothered to put on make-up.
Her fashion statement these days was clean and neat rather than fashionable or sexy. There was a time when Friday night meant she would be just as dolled up as Lurleen, with hair fresh from the beauty parlor and lips bright with lipstick. Now it meant Casual Friday at the office and a chance to relax in jeans and a T-shirt instead of the usual business wear. It meant working late and not thinking about going home to an empty apartment.
When had she stopped caring about how she looked? When had she quit trying?
With a smile she didn't really feel stretching her unvarnished lips, she turned her attention back to Lurleen, took a long look at her friend's wardrobe choices, and amended her earlier thought. Edmundo was in for a long and strenuous weekend. The garish shirt and tight, starched, pink jeans Lurleen wore were new. Since she didn't buy new clothes for just any man, Sam figured Edmundo must be pretty far up her friend's rating scale. Maybe Lurleen had finally found the man she had been looking for since the two girls first started talking about their dream guy back in middle school. Sam hoped so.
A bit of reality crept into her smile. She also hoped Edmundo was taking his vitamins and drinking lots of Red Bull. He was going to need them. And as long as he made Lurleen happy, Sam was pleased.
"So should I call your cell phone Sunday night to remind you to get out of bed and go home?" Sam asked with a sardonic smile. It helped to cover up the empty feeling inside.
"Oh, God, I hope so," Lurleen said fervently with a far away and happy expression firmly in place. Then she seemed to shake off thoughts of Edmundo and headed back to her earlier subject. "And that reminds me. You need a real man."
"Lurleen!" Sam didn't want to think about men. She didn't want to think about finding one or the current lack of a lover in her life.
"I'm serious," Lurleen persisted. "All you do any more is work and read those stupid romance novels." She picked up the book lying face down on Sam's desk and grimaced. "Good Lord. This one is the absolute worst!" She pointed to the cover. "No man looks like that in real life, not even Edmundo. And let me tell you, that boy can stop traffic when he doesn't wear a shirt! This is, well...impossible. No one looks this good without a production crew, a makeup team, and an airbrush artist." Her perfectly plucked eyebrows drew together in a frown of intense displeasure.
Sam nodded reluctant agreement. It was true that the art on the cover was beyond what any rational person could expect of a human male, but that didn't matter. It wasn't the overblown cover that kept her attention glued to the pages the cover protected. She needed the escape. She needed to feel like there was something better somewhere. And if the only place she could find that was between the pages of a book, then so be it.
Still, Sam protested softly, "He doesn't look like that in my head." In her imagination, he looked real and somehow that made him much more attractive than the impossible beauty on the cover, but she wasn't going to tell her that. The headache niggling behind her eyes was growing.
"You shouldn't be looking at guys in your head, Sam," Lurleen protested. "You should be looking at them in your bed!" She thumbed through the paperback and snorted derisively. "How many times have you read this one?"
"I haven't," Sam countered defensively, snatching the book from her friend's contemptuous hold. "It's new. I just started it and I haven't gotten to read it yet."
She rolled her eyes. "Wonderful. Just what you need, another story to get you further hung up on Cole Grayson."
"I am not hung up on Cole Grayson." Sam held her novel against her chest protectively. "I'm not hung up on anyone. And if I was, it wouldn't be with someone in a book. I have better sense than to fall for a fictional character."
Cole was just a diversion, something to keep her apartment from feeling so hollow. If Sam used reading as a way to escape, well it was healthier than using booze. She glared at her friend.
Lurleen wasn't the least intimidated. "Bullshit," she said pleasantly, and propped her denim-clad hip against the side of Sam's desk. "You are so in love with him it isn't even funny."
Sam winced. Did she have to use that word? "I am not in love with anyone." Why didn't her objection sound more emphatic? Her friend couldn't be right. Cole wasn't real; it didn't matter how alluring and wonderful he was. He lived between the pages of a book. There was no rational way she could be in love with him. She glared accusingly at her friend. "Least of all, Cole Grayson."
Lurleen snorted delicately. "Yeah, right. You measure every man you meet by his standard. Well you know what? He's a fantasy guy. He's perfect, and no man is ever going to measure up to him." She stared down at her bright pink nails, checking for any imperfection that might offend Edmundo. "You need to stop thinking about Cole Grayson. You need to get out. Find yourself some real guy and tie one on for about a week." She glanced back up. "You could do it easy enough. You know plenty of men."
"Oh, please!" Sam protested. "I know plenty of programmers and scientists. Most of whom would rather be off playing EverQuest online than out on the town." She shook her head. "You think I have issues with fantasy and reality! Spend some time with those guys and I'll look like Miss Normality to you. I don't feel like dressing up in a chain mail bikini and pretending to be Zena, Warrior Princess just to get their attention. Thanks, but no thanks."
"Chain mail bikinis can be fun. Remember that year we went to Waxahachie for the Renaissance festival? That was lots of fun. Besides, you of all people should understand escapism. And you know men who aren't on the Geek Gamers Squad," Lurleen insisted with a dismissive wave and an expectant twinkle in her blue eyes.
Sam sighed, wishing she would just give up. But she wasn't the giving up type, and Sam knew her friend would perch on the edge of the desk until the Oilers won a Super Bowl waiting for an answer. She might as well humor her and get it over with before her headache turned into a migraine.
"Well, let me see. Men other than computer nuts...Hmm, what's that leave? My worthless brother's friends? Again, no, thank you. I've had more than my share of cowboys and ranchers. I've dated enough broncobusters and bull riders to start my own rodeo. Not interested. There's too much crap attached to dating cowboys. They're never home unless you consider a bar their home. They can be total assholes."
Lurleen waved a hand in protest. "I don't know. That one from Abilene was kind of sweet. And cute as a bug!" At Sam's quelling look, she shrugged. "I keep telling you that you need to find some pretty Latino boy. Those Hispanic men are something else! Get you a Mexican man."
Sam rolled her eyes. "I can't take the machismo. Makes me want to hurt them, and not in a good way. Besides, I'm taller than most of them."
"And actually you're more macho than they are," Lurleen added. "Most of them are afraid you'll kick their ass." She laughed. "They've heard stories from all your brother's friends. You'll never live down what you did to Gilbert Martinez graduation night."
"True," Sam conceded with a touch of regret.
"Not that he didn't deserve everything you did!" Lurleen tried to put on a consoling expression. Sam didn't think it was working very well. Mostly, it looked smug. "In fact, you should have cracked his head open instead of just taking him out to Kermit and leaving him in the Sand Hills. Naked." She couldn't help giggling over the memory.
"I should have killed the sorry S.O.B.," Sam agreed. "But killing him would've gotten me sent to the women's prison in Huntsville. I figured I could get out of dumping his ass in the Sand Hills and letting him walk back to Odessa." Looking back, it was quite possibly the stupidest thing she'd ever done. Now she knew it would be called kidnapping, but back then it was justice, and at the time it made sense. A lot of things made sense where you were seventeen that made no sense at all when you were thirty.
While she regretted the action she couldn't regret any pain Gilbert felt. No man should be allowed to treat a fourteen-year-old kid the way Gilbert treated Lurleen's little sister and get away with it. She and Lurleen had proven to him in terms even scum like Gilbert could understand just how unacceptable it was to coerce a little girl into sex and then leave her pregnant. Because Gilbert was seventeen, the police couldn't do anything. But once the danger of expulsion from school was removed, the girls had acted. And since Sam was the one who got Gilbert falling down drunk, dumped him into the back of her pickup truck and then stripped him buck naked, it was Sam who had to live down the tale for the rest of her life. Lurleen had merely rode shotgun on the trip.
It had been a well-intentioned, brainless thing to do but dumb or not, at least Sam felt alive back then. She'd stood with her father's crew out in the oil field grinning while they heckled and jeered at Gilbert as he tried to maneuver through the acres of broken glass left by generations of Odessa's youth and their not-so-surreptitious partying.
It took him most of the night to make his way back to town. No one in her dad's crew had offered Gilbert a lift. Neither had any of the other roughnecks working the rigs in the other fields on the fifteen-mile trek back to town. They all knew what he'd done to Lisa. Justice, small town Texas style, suited them just fine.
Sam sighed at the memory. She'd cared enough about something to take action back then. She hadn't felt alive or cared about much in a while. She smiled wanly at Lurleen. "Well, I did get away with it. The police wouldn't even arrest me when Gilbert tried to file a complaint."
"Yeah. They knew Gilbert was a worthless piece of trash. Hell, all of Midland-Odessa knew that! Over all, it was fun." Lurleen put memory aside and went back to the subject at hand. "Still, it sure as shit messed up your rep with a certain class of men. You scare the hell out of the Texicanos. They don't want to date you much. They're afraid if they break up with you, you'll get pissed and cut off their cojones or leave them in the middle of the desert like you did Gilbert, or something." She thought for a moment. "You know, Edmundo has some friends from Nogales. They likely haven't heard about Gilbert Martinez. I can probably get him to fix you up. He'll do just about anything I want him to." She smiled toothily. "You want me to talk to him about it? I bet he could find you a good man."
Right now, Sam didn't want a good man. She wanted to smack Lurleen for her tenacity, but she'd gladly settle for the other woman leaving. "No, I don't want him to fix me up," she said. I don't need a man in my life. I'm fine just the way I am. She couldn't meet her friend's clear gaze. Yeah, and I don't lie worth shit. Even to myself.
Sam sighed aloud, weariness permeating the action. She was just as tired of the topic as she sounded. Tonight's conversation was nothing but a repeat of last Thursday's talk and the one they'd had the Friday before that. They had it at least once a week, if not more often. It happened whenever Lurleen noticed Sam reading a new romance novel or rereading an old one. And God help her if she happened to be rereading one of The Vampire Encounters books and Lurleen caught her. The lecture could go on for hours. Sam just didn't feel like dealing with it tonight.
Sam glanced back at her computer as it beeped again. Spam. She gave a mental sigh. She was hoping for a real email that would require her attention. Then Lurleen might leave. Sam simply wanted some peace and quiet and---she was forced to admit it privately, though she'd let Gilbert Martinez get his pay back and dump her naked in the Sand Hill wastes before she admitted it to Lurleen---she wanted her new novel. But the gods who watched over west Texas redneck girls didn't seem to be on her side tonight; Lurleen was still staring at her expectantly.
Sam needed to hurry her friend along and she knew just how to do it. "Aren't you going to be late for your date with Edmundo?" she said with an innocent air. The one thing Lurleen liked more than trying to organize Sam's nonexistent love life was participating in her own very active one.
"Oh, shit." Lurleen looked around frantically, gathering up her purse, her lunch cooler, and the bag that contained her work clothes since God and Samantha knew she couldn't wear those skin-tight pink jeans and a sparkly crop top during the workday. "Come with me," she half-ordered, half-pled.
Sam smiled. "I'm working overtime, remember?"
"You work too much," Lurleen protested.
"I'll be fine. Promise."
It was true; Sam didn't mind working late. She was salaried and didn't get paid for anything over forty hours, but she'd gladly take the comp time. She almost had enough hours built up for a long weekend in Mexico. She'd like to go somewhere nice. Probably not Cancun, since that took real money but somewhere down the coast or maybe on the Pacific side. A little vacation was a definite possibility as early as next month. And Lurleen was not going to be invited along! Not as long as she was on a find-Sam-a-man kick.
In fact, it was past time Lurleen left her in peace for a while. "Get out of here before Edmundo dies of longing for you."
Her friend laughed, but adjured Sam to think about finding a date just once in a while before she hurried out of the cube. Gratefully, she turned back to her computer and settled in to monitor the system and maybe sneak a bit of time with her novel once the nightshift kicked in.
After Lurleen left, Sam spent several long and unproductive minutes just staring at her monitor. When the screensaver kicked in, she realized she'd sat for over five minutes doing nothing at all but thinking about her friend's evaluation of what was wrong with Sam's life. Lurleen was right, of course; she usually was. Sam was hung up on Cole Grayson. She wasn't in love with him! That would be silly and more than a little crazy. But she did think far more about him than was healthy.
It was hard not to; he was fascinating. He was beautiful and intelligent and sweet. And not real. With a sigh, Sam got up and wandered to the break room to refill her 'Save a Horse---Ride a Cowboy' mug. Lurleen had given it to Sam for Christmas saying she hoped it would give Sam ideas. It had, but they all involved bopping Lurleen on the head with the heavy porcelain cup. However, Sam liked the song the cup celebrated and it kept her coffee nicely hot, so she kept it. And right now she felt a serious need for coffee. Maybe some caffeine would help Sam's headache.
Two Tylenol and a fresh cup of heavily creamed coffee later, Sam returned to her desk and tried to lose herself in the last half of Volume Eight of The Vampire Encounters. After less than a chapter, Sam decided it might be the book exacerbating her headache rather than continued worries about Lurleen's observations.
Normally Sam adored the world of Marie Desiree's vampires and their various tribulations. She had been a fan of the series since the first book. There was just something so compelling about the characters and world in the novels that she forgave its various and occasionally numerous literary shortcomings.
Several of Ms. Desiree's characters had a spark of life inside them that drew the reader to them and gave them a reason to actually care what happened in their lives. Sometimes Sam wanted them to succeed, and sometimes she wanted them to fail miserably. It depended on the character. It was pretty much how she reacted to people in real life. Sometimes she loved them, and sometimes she wanted to kick their asses.
She grinned at the parallel. It was a pity she didn't have some nice vampire to help forget some of the more irritating people in her life. It would be lovely to have someone as understanding as Cole Grayson to talk with.
She wrinkled her nose. That sort of thinking led to long lectures from Lurleen. She firmly tried to put thoughts of how understanding and wonderful Cole was away, and didn't entirely succeed.
With that happy fantasy niggling unwanted at the back of her mind, she went back to her book and sank deeper into the world the author had created. As she read, the characters' emotions and longings rolled off the page. Their fears and ambitions were real and something she could identify with---especially Cole Grayson's. As the resident anti-hero, his ethics occasionally appeared ambiguous but there was a core of morality to the man that had grown as the series progressed.
As his motivations and history were revealed, he progressed from the apparently cold, emotionless near-villain of the first book into a misunderstood hero with a soft heart whose popularity among fans of the series nearly eclipsed Wynnston Matthews' appeal as the author-acknowledged hero of the books. All the fans agreed that Cole was a big marshmallow far more likely to rescue a kitten than drown it.
There was controversy over whether the hardness portrayed in the first book was an act or just bad characterization and writing on the author's part. Sam detected signs of the gentle and caring soul in the first book and personally thought Cole's characterization had gotten out of Ms. Desiree's control. The core character was just too nice a guy, and it kept showing through the veneer of iniquity she tried to cover him with.
And Marie was too in love with Wynn to ever show her hero in an unflattering light, so those duties all fell to Cole. Whenever the author needed a backhanded good deed performed that was beneath Wynn's exalted state and moral superiority, Cole was perfectly suited to do what was wrong for all the right reasons. When she needed someone to get their heart broken, Cole was a convenient choice for whipping boy and dupe. Wynn was never shown easily tricked just because he wanted to believe in someone. Wynn didn't let his heart and emotions rule his good sense. But Cole did.
In the process of saving Wynn from appearing as less than perfect in all ways, Marie Desiree had made Cole much more human than the other characters. He was flawed. He cared too much and sometimes did stupid, impulsive things because of it. His loyalty and capacity to love were immense. He was the nasty vampire with a classic heart of gold. And utterly beloved by hundreds of fans. They bought the novels for his sake.
As Lurleen so frequently pointed out and Sam freely admitted, Sam was one of those who kept buying the books just to read about Cole.
Normally a new Marie Desiree novel was a bright spot in Sam's week, but this book was different than the ones that came before it. Sam frowned unhappily as she read. The writing quality was much the same as ever. Parts were almost lyrical while other bits seemed haphazard and thrown together. Sam could tell which passages really claimed the author's passion as opposed to those that were tossed in just to link the sections that held Ms. Desiree's interest.
It wasn't the quality that disturbed Sam. She was used to Marie Desiree's style and literary shortcomings. It was nothing so easily ignored as that. This was much more troubling and struck Sam as insidious. It was the overall direction the novel was taking. The entire tone of the book struck Sam as sinister and the current plot line was not being particularly kind to her misunderstood hero.
Estranged from Wynn and the rest of his vampire family, Cole had been forced to destroy the woman he loved in the previous installment of the saga. Now he was dealing with the fallout from that action, and no one in the story seemed to understand that he had no choice but to kill Falcon Matthews, Wynn's evil daughter, to save a group of innocent people. Instead, the few people he'd counted as his friends and family deserted him, leaving him completely alone.
Cole truly loved Falcon, and discovering that she was malicious and unfeeling was a horrible blow to him. Finding out that she never loved him and was simply using him to further her own plans devastated Cole. The previous book left him broken-hearted and alone. It was all just heartrending, and Sam sniffled a bit as she reached for a Kleenex. She felt so bad for him. It wasn't fair that someone with so much goodness inside them was so utterly miserable.
And now the author was completing the destruction of Sam's favorite in high style and what Sam considered a completely malicious way. Sam was rapidly losing all patience and what little respect she'd once had for Marie Desiree.
In Sam's opinion, the most awful of the author's actions was telling the book from Wynnston Matthews' point of view. Marie Desiree had returned to the format of the first novel, showing Wynn as the flawless but tragic hero and Cole as the heartless 'evil' brother. It didn't seem to matter that she was contradicting at least six of the previous books. She was probably hoping to lure back the readers she'd lost due to some of the stranger literary techniques she'd experimented with in later installments. She wanted Cole to be the villain. Sam mentally gagged at the very idea. She hated Wynn, and now Ms. Desiree had decided to show Cole as a monster and portray it all though Wynn's eyes?
Sam growled and swore softly before she sighed. Oh well, she'd just have to deal with it. It couldn't get much worse.
An hour later, she wasn't so sure of that. Sam wiped her streaming eyes, took a sip of her now lukewarm coffee and began the final chapter reluctantly. She confessed silently that she was afraid of what might happen next. There had been nasty rumors for months that the author was planning to kill off Cole, since he was in danger of becoming more popular than Wynn. Ms. Desiree reportedly didn't like writing for Cole and wanted to focus on her beloved hero. She believed taking Cole out of the series would free her to pursue the plotlines she was really interested in and she felt the best way to do so was to kill the character permanently.
Sam thought it the most demented idea she'd ever run across. She also believed it highly unlikely. Surely no one was that insane. But now she realized she was wrong and Ms. Desiree really was insane---stark raving mescal-drunk crazy!
Sam certainly didn't like what she'd read so far. The author spent the entire novel trying to show Cole in the worst possible light, attempting to return him to the villain of the original concept. Shown through Wynn's eyes, Cole was meant to appear as a horrible person.
But it wasn't working. Well, perhaps he would look like a fiend to someone who'd not read any of the other novels, but to someone like Sam, who'd followed the whole series, it only made Wynn and the others look like complete monsters, blaming their own shortcomings and mistakes on an innocent man. That was some small comfort, but not much. Even portrayed as the bad guy, Cole was miserable. She snarled and sniffled and cursed Marie Desiree as a heartless bitch. How dare that woman say Cole was a self-serving user? Her eyes narrowed as she read.
On top of trying to establish Cole as the villain, the author made Wynn and most of the other characters treat him worse than a stray dog. Sam hated them all. If they were not the monsters they appeared to be, then they were certainly blind and stupid at the very least.
Can't they see what he's really like? Sam thought as she blew her nose. Heartless unfeeling bastards, every last one of them! And the ones who didn't fit that description were idiots.
She read on.
By the end of the book Sam was quite ready to do Marie Desiree a lasting injury. What she'd done to Gilbert Martinez wouldn't even compare to what she'd do to that crazy women if she could get her hands on the bitch.
She snarled soundlessly as she reached the finale. Desiree had killed him! That cruel, uncaring, evil excuse for an author had killed Cole in an absolutely horrible way. And it was clear this wasn't some cheap literary trick and he wouldn't wake up in the next novel. There would be no Bobby Ewing shower scene, no returning from the dead to save this tragedy. It was obvious that Cole was permanently gone.
Sam was a little taken aback by the intensity of her unhappiness. Still she couldn't say she was completely surprised. Cole was her favorite character ever, and now he was dead. He'd been treated horribly for the whole book, and then cruelly killed. It just wasn't fair.
She sat staring at her own reflection in her window with the book still in her hand. This couldn't be the way it ended. Anger ignited in her stomach and spread throughout her body. She stilled the trembling of her hands when she unconsciously clenched her fingers into fists.
She'd be damned if she ever bought another book that woman wrote as long as she lived. What the hell was Marie Desiree thinking?
As some of the rage dissipated and the intense sadness deepened, Sam started to cry again. She thought of all the ways she'd save Cole if she had an opportunity. In Marie's place, Sam would write it very differently. She would see Cole got the sort of life he deserved, not the constant angst and pain Ms. Desiree doled out to him. Given the least chance, she'd make Cole's life happy.
Sam blew her nose again. It was silly to be this upset, of course. Cole Grayson was just a character in a book, but she couldn't help feeling as though a dearly beloved friend had just died. Drops of sorrow spotted the pages of her novel, wrinkling the paper in neat, perfectly round circles. She cursed softly and blotted the pages of her book. Maybe Lurleen was right. Maybe Sam did love Cole Grayson just a little. Why else would she feel so devastated? She tried to get her emotions under control.
Bereft and heartbroken, she wiped at the tears that wouldn't stop flowing. "I wish there was something that would make this all better," she murmured to the book. "Oh, Cole, I wish there was some way to change all this."
The usually quiet sound of equipment from the lab located just the other side of the wall from Sam's cube increased suddenly. A violent shockwave rocked Sam's cube, throwing her from her chair. A large binder fell from a shelf, landing painfully on top of her stomach before bouncing away. Her coffee mug shattered beside her head, sending sharp shards into her cheek. She felt the sudden coolness of blood evaporating on her skin and knew the broken porcelain had cut her face.
Moaning and disoriented, she slowly raised her head and started to sit up. One moment she was lying on the carpet and the next she was falling off the floor toward the roof. Either gravity had reversed itself or the room had flipped. Whatever the case, she was now plummeting toward the ceiling. Instinctively she closed her eyes and threw out her arms to ward off the impact. She was completely startled when she hit something soft and yielding rather than crashing through the white fiberboard ceiling tiles into the concrete floor dividers above them.
She blinked a couple of times as her brain sorted out that she was alive, relatively unhurt, and lying atop another human being. Sam struggled to retain some kind of composure as her mind fought to process what had just seemed to happen to her. She took several slow, deep breaths and looked directly into eyes of a peculiar shade of blue. The closest word to fit that color was lavender. She couldn't see much of him---the body beneath her was definitely male---only those blue violet eyes ringed by long black lashes. Blood from the cut on her face dripped onto his pale skin and into his mouth as he opened it to speak.
She presumed he was going to ask a question since that would be a sensible reaction to having a strange woman land on you but he never had the chance. The instant her blood touched his tongue the room turned upside down again, sending them both plummeting through space. Sam could do little more than cling to her companion, screaming into the void.
Don't be afraid.
Speeding through nothingness, the gentle request wasn't actual words. It was an impression, a thought flowing from the man Sam clutched so tightly.
You aren't alone. I'm here. Don't be afraid.
It was his thought inside her mind. And a dear, silly thing for him to project since he was every bit as afraid as she was. She could feel it. He was just trying to protect her. There was warmth surrounding that thought. She felt a smile inside her head...His smile. He was touched she didn't find his comfort reprehensible or annoying. In the wake of that initial attempt to soothe her despite his shared fear, other thoughts and emotions flowed. Hidden little secrets and fears, prideful actions and devastating ones, all were revealed to Sam. Love, joy, hate, hurt, anger, everything he felt and had ever felt was there for her to experience. One man's life opened before Samantha and became a part of her.
In return, everything comprising Sam Bailey became his. She had no idea how long life and memory flowed between them, twining into a glowing cable tying them to each other. Unbreakable, it bound their minds together. Time didn't really exist. There was only the two of them learning and experiencing everything the other ever had via the unknown energy flow. It was beautiful and glorious, and terrifying.
For however long the incident lasted, there was no Cole and no Samantha, but some combined being who was both. There was no separation between them. Nothing was secret or withheld. She knew all his fears as intimately as he knew hers. There was nowhere to hide the sins and embarrassments each had. Regrets, faults, and mistakes brought a blush to both their faces; everything was revealed and shared.
But just as there was nowhere to hide, there was no reason for mortification. Each shame or humiliation the one felt was immediately understood by the other. Forgiveness and comfort were given and reciprocated. Fear of rejection and hatred faded before it completely formed.
How could she despise him for actions dictated by his search for love and acceptance when he didn't despise her for being too cowardly to even begin such a search? At least he wasn't afraid to live.
I paid the price for that. You may have been wiser.
Wiser and alone.
In the end, so was I.
Alone. Joined now as they spun through nothingness, it seemed impossible to experience that state again. If they were all that was left of creation, at least they were together.
Yes, together. Never alone again.
Neither was sure in whose mind the thought originated.
When the world stopped doing its impression of a blender, Samantha was lying on the floor with her lovely, lavender-eyed man on top of her.
Cole Grayson...
He held her tightly as lines of crackling purple energy flowed over both of them, brightening the darkness and fingering warm bands of memories between them with each pass it made through their entwined bodies.
As the violet fire settled somewhat, Cole lifted his head.
"That was extraordinary," he said. His accent was smooth, educated British with a subtle Irish lilt as pleasing to the ear as his face was to the eye. Energy still crackled in his black hair, lifting individual strands to spark from his body to hers. A faint smear of her blood lingered on his lips where it had dripped from her cut cheek. They knew somehow it was the source of their joining.
His arms were wrapped securely about her and he was smiling in pleasure when she lifted dazed eyes to meet his equally stunned ones.
"It tingles." Eldritch bands of energy raced from one strand of her brown hair to another, tickling across her scalp. "It feels nice.
"Yes. I quite like it, too." His smile was as bewildered as she felt. "You taste good. Very...soothing," he added. He sighed in pure pleasure. "Peaceful. When I taste you, you make me feel peaceful." He dipped his head, intent on licking the dark liquid still seeping from her wounded cheek.
She sighed happily and clasped him closer to her. His comment made perfect sense to Sam's slightly scrambled brain.
After all, Cole was a vampire and blood was like a drug for him. It didn't surprise her that he wanted to drink the red liquid escaping from her cut. It would be wasteful to just let it fall on the floor, wouldn't it? What was unexpected was how good it felt to Sam when he lapped at her blood. Mentally and physically, it was extremely enjoyable to let him have her blood. It was a soft sensation akin to being slightly buzzed while stretched out in a beach chair under a palm tree listening to swoosh of the surf. His touch was as soothing as a tropical breeze and just as gentle.
"Yes. It's so peaceful when you're touching me," she agreed. "So good."
She felt complete and secure when he was running his tongue over her cheek---as worry-free as she'd ever felt. "Do it again?" Normally such a request would have sounded ludicrous, but under the circumstances, it was wholly logical to Sam.
Apparently it made sense to Cole, too. With a chuckle he rolled them into a more comfortable position and complied with her request, pressing his lips to her wound and drawing tiny sips from her. Purple fire continued to dance in diminishing waves across them as their minds spoke to each other and bonds deeper than either had ever imagined possible were forged. Sam willingly lost herself in Cole, and didn't demur when she felt him delving deep into her mind. Drugged from the purple lightning and his feeding, she welcomed him back inside her head.
At peace and content in a way neither had ever been before, minutes or hours or years passed. Sam neither knew nor cared about how long they lay that way. It didn't matter.
With a final swipe of his warm tongue, Cole licked her wound one last time. Sam realized the injury no longer hurt. All the pain had been erased by his caring touch. She laid her head happily on his shoulder and looked up at him, sleepy-eyed.
This cannot possibly be happening...Rooms do not turn completely upside-down regardless of noisy malfunctioning vacuum pumps...And fictional characters do not arbitrarily appear even if the rooms do turn over...Because they're fiction, and fiction's not real...
Some part of Sam's rational mind demanded she pay attention to facts, telling her this was all impossible but she had to strain to hear it. It was easier to just ignore that tiny dissenting voice and enjoy the moment. And there was so much that she could enjoy about her current position.
He feels real...
That was enough for her.
Unconcerned by what was and wasn't possible, she took the time to observe Cole closely, comparing the picture in her mind to the reality of the beautiful man cradling her so comfortingly. Cole was tall and lean, all broad shoulders, long legs, and whipcord strength. She looked him over carefully without forming any valuations or appraisals; her mind was not clear enough to make such judgments. She simply took in the visual picture and filed it away. If her mind cleared, she might put value on what she saw but for now, seeing was enough.
Even so, she couldn't help but marvel at how absolutely beautiful he was. She'd thought the description of him overblown in the novels but she saw now that it fell far short of the truth. She hadn't believed anyone could be as handsome as Cole was supposed to be but he was...and then some!
There was a certain aristocratic cast to his features, a hint of delicacy that couldn't detract from his manliness. A firm chin graced with a hint of a cleft and a finely chiseled jaw assured no one would ever mistake him for a female. Cole might be excessively elegant and suave, but he could never be termed effeminate.
Black as midnight was the usual phrase Marie Desiree used to depict his full, thick hair, but that wasn't quite accurate. There was a gray tone to midnight, a hint of coloration lingered in that description. Black as midnight wasn't truly black; Cole's hair was. As a teenager, Sam used to camp out in a cave in New Mexico with the bunch of wild boys and girls she considered her friends and running buddies. When all the lights were extinguished and the campfire was not yet lit, they were plunged into the most intense darkness she'd ever experienced. That darkness was the color of Cole's hair.
The inky blackness was at once a startling contrast and a stunning compliment to his ivory skin. He'd have been splendid with a tan, but he was a fictional vampire; pale skin was mandatory. She supposed astounding beauty of face and form were de rigueur for romance novel heroes anyway. He certainly fit the mold. He was everything one would expect an undead hero to be.
Sam smiled at him. He was every bit as perfect as she'd imagined he'd be even if he didn't exactly fit the image in her head. He was damn close.
Cole looked down at her and his normally sharp eyes were as dazed as Sam felt. He looked about in confusion, as if he was slowly waking from a drugged sleep.
"Where are we? " he asked finally. "Is this Heaven?"
Sam blinked and tried to form some sort of coherent thought processes.
"I don't know," she admitted after a moment. Her head was as fuzzy and thick as it was when she'd been downing shooters and long-necks all night long. "It looks like your hotel room."
"So it does," he agreed. For the moment that was enough.
She snuggled into a more comfortable position and let him take over worrying for the both of them. It was easiest to just let go. She didn't particularly care where they were. Lying here with him was good enough for now.
"Was there just an explosion?" he asked looking about.
"Mm-hmm," Sam answered, happily secure in his embrace. "I think so. It felt like it. You smell nice," she added.
In her pseudo-drunken state, her tangent seemed reasonable. Explosions that might or might not have happened were distant and didn't matter. He was here and now and he smelled good. At the moment, Cole's nearness was far more important than any blast. She didn't give a sheep-rancher's damn about what had brought him into her arms. It was enough that he was there.
Sam felt more inebriated than she'd ever been in those long ago nights when a honky-tonk was as comfortable and familiar as her home. She was completely disoriented but quite content to remain exactly where she was for the foreseeable future. It took too much effort to worry about it. She was with Cole. That was enough.
"You smell wonderful, too," he countered, content to follow her tangent. "And you taste even better." He tightened his embrace and hummed against her ear. He felt safe holding her. His serenity reverberated through her mind.
Sam felt as though she was secure for the first time in years. Her mind might be wrapped in cotton wool but she was happy. Everything was slightly distant and not really vital, not nearly as significant as lying with Cole, letting waves of power and energy flow through her while a comfortably hard form was pressed against her. The sensation was at once calming and energizing. It felt nothing short of wonderful. It seemed to her admittedly addled mind that Cole offered everything her life was missing. She was quite content to remain where she was forever without investigating any whys or hows.
The body pressed to hers shivered as a last discharge of energy caused them both to twitch. With the departure of that unknown power, the fog began to clear slowly from her brain. But she was content to let the process take its time. She was in no hurry to think about much of anything. Sensation was enough for the time being.
Cole took over their still-combined being as his mind began to clear more quickly than Sam's, and under his direction, they were able to finally process the alien memories flooding both their thoughts.
It finally really hit Sam that this was Cole Grayson, romance novel vampire hero, wrapped so tightly in her embrace. She looked in wonder and concern at the man holding her as tightly as she was holding him. Even though such thing had to be impossible, he certainly felt solid and real. His amusement at her surprise rolled back to her. Of course he was solid and real, his mind told hers. He was every bit as real as she was. He certainly felt completely corporeal---and completely splendid.
Cole shivered again and they both gasped. Then he cried out in pain, and she tightened her embrace as she tried to process what was happening. Her psyche was swamped by grief and throbbing agony, a legacy of Cole's most recent experiences. She held him close and tried to fight against what they were feeling.
Cole's memory was full of excruciating pain, both physical and emotional. He'd believed himself dying just before he'd found himself in Sam's arms. And now Sam shared his feeling as if it were happening to her. She wailed as the full force of it cut through the gentle, drugged state she was in. It hurt so badly to relive what had happened to Cole. Hardest of all to bear was the emotional devastation. Excruciating as his actual death was, it was far more painful to relive his sense of loss and abandonment.
Forsaken by everyone he cared about, by everyone he thought had cared about him, Cole had finally given up, surrendered. He simply had no will to continue. He couldn't face life utterly alone, and had welcomed the death sentence that his own brother had pronounced against him.
Cole's heart, and Sam's along with it, was torn asunder as he recalled how none of his vampiric brothers or sisters said a word or made the least move to protest Wynn's order to kill him. There was no compassion or sorrow on the faces of his family as they gathered to watch his execution. Anticipation and glee shone from several of his siblings as they greeted his death with approbation.
Tears began to flow from Sam's eyes again as she remembered Cole kneeling before Wynn Matthews, too devastated by the defection of everyone he thought he could count on to even protest whatever was to come. No one cared.
If Wynn didn't care enough to spare Cole, if no one in the family cared enough to step forward on his behalf, what was the point of continuing? Broken and hopeless, he welcomed Death, even as torturous a one as Wynn dictated---death by fire. Why not? His heart burned with sorrow; his body might as well burn, too.
The first touch of the torch had hurt so badly, he'd been unable to hold back his cry of pain. As his agony grew, reaching an unsupportable level, his mind disconnected from his body and he no longer felt anything at all. Numb and seeming to float away from whatever bound him to the world, he knew he was dying at last. As fire ate at his body, destroying it, his last coherent thought had been grief for all the love he'd given that had not been returned. Falcon, Wynn, and his family---not a one of them had any feeling for him at all. Remorse flooded him. Everything he'd done had been a waste. His life held no meaning. And now he died, unloved and alone. Whatever tortures Hell might hold for a vampire such as he could be no worse than dying in solitary misery.
No one cared.
His final thought was a prayer that he could find a single person in all of creation that would at least grieve his passing.
Sam sobbed for his hurt even as the agony of his death faded from immediacy into their now combined memory.
Cole wiped the tears that flowed down Sam's face.
"And it seems God does hear prayers," he said, his eyes soft and filled with gratitude and wonder, pain gone from their depths. "You cry for me. You grieve for me. So this must be Heaven rather than Hell," he remarked. "How extraordinary. Either God is remarkably merciful, or I wasn't as horrible a person as I always feared I was."
Suddenly he grinned at her, a boyish flash of pure joy that hardly seemed appropriate for a man who'd just died a horrible death.
"Hello, Samantha. It's truly a pleasure to meet you," he said with sincerity. "Though that hardly seems a proper greeting for someone I know so intimately."
He paused for a moment to simply look at her, and then laughed joyfully.
"I know everything about you," he said in amazement and then laughed yet again. "Birth date, social security number, the color of your underwear, everything. Now how wonderful is that?"
She hadn't thought of it quite that way. In fact, she really hadn't taken the opportunity to consider all the ramifications of the extraordinary event that had taken place. As soon as her mind began to clear, she'd been assaulted with Cole's recollection of torturous death. That hadn't been wonderful in the least...or had it? Even now, she could feel Cole's immense gratitude for what he saw as salvation and forgiveness. Without sharing what he'd experienced, would she be able to understand what he felt now?
And was wonderful the correct descriptive term for their experience? She thought for a moment and realized it was. Her mind was full of memories that weren't her own but they only made her understand Cole perfectly. Everything that made up Cole Grayson flowed and flashed through her head. She found herself in complete agreement with his assessment.
"Oh, yes. Perfectly wonderful." She couldn't come up with a single thing to add. Wonderful was the exact word to describe the moment.
As she slipped more and more into some clarity of thought the whys and wherefores began to gain importance. How could she possibly be wrapped in Cole Grayson's arms as she wept for his death? Not only was he supposed to be dead, he was never really alive. Regardless of how substantial his body felt against hers, he was a fictional character. How was any of this possible?
Sam was dreaming. That was the answer. She had been knocked out cold and was dreaming. She was surely hallucinating or having delusions or whatever it was that people had when they were unconscious on a floor somewhere.
There was no way she could actually be lying on a bed in what looked like an expensive hotel room with Cole Grayson lying on top of her. First and foremost she reminded herself again, he was a make-believe character in the romance novel series The Vampire Encounters. Second, he was a vampire, and vampires did not exist. Third, if you could somehow discount the first two reasons why the whole situation was impossible, men who looked like Cole never gave Sam a second look---or even a first one in most cases.
So it followed that she'd whacked her head hard enough to knock herself out when she'd been thrown from her desk. Like Cole, she had vague memories of an explosion. So she had to be lying insensible in her cube and not in what looked like an expensive hotel room. Still, the sheets beneath her felt soft and smooth where they touched her bare skin. Air conditioning was blowing cool across her face and Cole was pleasantly heavy, though his weight was making it a touch hard to breathe and her left breast was feeling a bit squished. Pleasure and discomfort combined, it all felt extremely real.
Sam blinked up at Cole, trying to remember what it was he'd asked. Oh, yes, he was both confused and exultant because he knew everything about her and had all her memories. She could perfectly comprehend his confusion. "Yes, I understand. I remember everything about you. But it's all sort of jumbled."
"Yes, a bit. What a completely fascinating experience! I've never felt anything to compare," he said with a grin.
She couldn't help thinking what a really beautiful smile he had. He just seemed so happy and was so open about it. It nearly distracted her from what he was saying.
"As a vampire, I feel bits of a person's life when I'm feeding but nothing like this." His smile grew. "I know you. I truly know you." He laid a slim finger on her forehead. "There's nothing in there hidden from me."
She felt heat spread across her cheeks.
He frowned slightly though his smile didn't waiver.
"Now, now. There's nothing to be ashamed of. It's quite astonishing and extremely marvelous actually. I don't think I've ever been sure exactly how anyone felt about me before." The smiled softened a bit and the sparkle in his purple eyes turned gentle. "It's...heartwarming to know there actually is one person who'd sincerely care a bit if I cease to exist. Someone will miss me after all. I didn't believe there was such a person in all of Creation." There was gratitude and pure wonder flowing from him.
"You shed tears for me." He pressed his lips to her forehead. "Never be embarrassed by that. It's a gift for which I can never thank you sufficiently. You've no idea how very precious that is to me." He paused and tilted her chin so he could look at her. "But then again, you actually do know that, don't you?" He laughed suddenly. "I've always wanted to meet a woman who understood me. Sad to say I had to die and find one from another world to accomplish that." He quirked an eyebrow as he thought about her otherworldliness. "So I'm fictional? My life is a novel? That's...extraordinary." He chuckled softly. "And perhaps a bit frightening."
Sam laughed with him. "I'm the one who should be frightened. In all likelihood, I'm suffering from a concussion. I'm lying somewhere unconscious having hallucinations." She smiled at him and couldn't dampen the desire that suddenly surged through her. She knew part of it was her own body and mind wanting what she had fantasized about for so long but an equal measure was flowing from him.
Don't you want me? A part of his heart and mind demanded she answer him. She couldn't lie or hide her response. He'd know immediately. Her thoughts were his the instant they formed. Did she want him? Well, of course she did. He was so beautiful and so in need of love, how could she not want him? She wanted him intensely as much as she'd ever wanted any man. She smiled up at him.
"You're right; it's a wonderful hallucination. Let's hope the doctors or whoever's tending me don't wake me up too soon."
Cole shifted so he lay half-across her. She could feel his hardness pulsing against her thigh and his desire burning deep in her mind. As he looked down at her, shared craving shone from his eyes, darkening them to amethyst.
His deep voice settled over her like roughened silk as he said, "Let's hope they never wake you up. I believe I want to keep you right here." He pressed closer and pushed his hips against her soft thighs before he brought his lips down to meet hers.
The instant Cole kissed her, Sam knew sex with Cole Grayson was going to be everything Marie Desiree had led her readers to expect and then some. Desiree's fade-to-black style could not convey the glory of the man. She'd left much to her reader's imagination, but Sam had never thought it would be anything quite like this. Maybe Sam's imagination had not been up to the task Desiree set for it. If just his kiss was this good, Sam couldn't surmise what actually making love to him was going to be like.
Cole's kiss exceeded every fantasy she'd ever indulged in. It was gentle and full of care, but there was no doubt that he was in control. For all his tender concern, it was full of possessiveness; it dominated her will. She wouldn't have been able to refuse him if she'd wanted to. Not that she had any wish to refuse him.
She returned his kiss with a need that startled her. She'd never been one to give herself completely to any man, but no one had ever kissed her the way Cole did. And she had never felt any other man's desire inside her own head. The connection she had to him had lessened in immediate intensity when the violet electricity had died away, but she still felt him inside, still linked to her. She could sense what he was feeling and it ignited her own desire from flame to inferno.
She'd never been wanted this way and knew Cole felt the same. In recent years, his life had been filled with betrayal and lovers who only wanted to use him for his power or money. They'd all sought to gain something from him. None of them had simply wanted to enjoy his body or the pleasure and love he offered. Cole needed to make love to someone who had no ulterior motive, who simply wanted him and understood who he was. His mind kept whispering just how desperately he needed that. He needed her and what she could offer him more than he needed the surety he wasn't insane, this was reality, and he wasn't actually dead.
Cole's mouth was hungry against her skin as his kiss moved from her lips across her jaw to the tender skin just below her ear. He nibbled her earlobe, twirling her little gold stud earring with his teeth, tracing the outline of her ear with the tip of his tongue before he followed the line of her carotid artery down her neck.
His tongue traveled back up the center of her throat and over her chin to trace the outline of her lips. It quested gently until she opened her mouth, then it plunged inside. He sought out her tongue, twining and exploring with his, indulging in an ancient waltz that drew a moan from Sam and sent warmth tingling through her body. His hands tangled in her brown hair, cradling her head as he deepened their kiss.
She didn't demur when he urged her to sit up so he could remove her T-shirt. As he freed her from the cotton knit, he gently trapped her wrists above her head and ran his hands slowly up and down her arms. His eyes began to glow with an inner light as he glazed down at her breasts, encased in smooth white cups. Sam felt her untouched nipples harden against the satin from the supernatural heat burning in his gaze.
Cole stared at her hungrily as his hands continued to travel down her arms until they rested on her ribs just beneath her breasts. She'd always thought that a vampire's hands would be cold, or at least cool, but his were warm and left her skin feeling too cold wherever they had passed. She wanted to feel the warmth of them all over her body. She wanted him to touch every inch of her.
Cole lifted her full breasts as if testing the feel of their weight in his hands. He ran his thumbs over the smooth material of her bra, circling her nipples until they tingled inside their satin casing. Eyes filled with pale purple fire, he lowered his head and traced the line where her plain white bra met her skin with his tongue while his hands kneaded and squeezed her breasts.
Sam ran her hands over his hair, marveling at its softness. It glistened as silken as her bra, utter darkness against her snowy underwear. His hands slid behind her and worked only a moment at the clasps before the hooks were free and she felt the bra go limp around her. His slender fingers followed the path that had been covered by the spandex, sliding the straps from her shoulders and down her arms until the garment fell away. He drew back to look at her bared flesh and his eyes glowed brighter. Sam could feel his pleasure in the sight of her.
As their desire grew, the connection between them become clearer. With each touch of his hands and mouth, she felt more of what he was feeling. His experiences were hers. When desire made his groin grow heavy and a pleasant ache developed there, she felt it. And she knew he felt the warmth that was spreading out from deep inside her, making her arms feel limp and her legs want to open for him. Need and want spiraled and looped, growing stronger with each pass of emotion and sensation from one to the other. When he settled his mouth around her nipple and began to suckle, pulling softly with his lips while he rolled the hard nub with his teeth, she knotted her fingers in his sleek hair, holding him tightly to her, urging him to love her.
Desire surged through her, building layer upon layer as his hands left her breasts to explore the rest of her body. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, suddenly nerveless and clumsy. He trapped her fluttering hands in his and kissed her fingers, bidding her to be calm. The warmth and affection of his smile sent a tingle through her.
Together, they unbuttoned his crisp blue shirt, each freed button necessitating another kiss of her fingers before he allowed them to continue. Only when the last one slid from its anchoring hole did he let her touch his chest. With a deeply in-drawn breath, he pressed her hands to his body, luxuriating in her touch.
He closed his eyes as his head fell back, exposing the strong column of his neck to her view. She crawled into his lap, straddling his long legs so she could press her lips to his throat, nibbling and sucking on his Adam's apple. One of his hands spread broadly across her lower back, pressing her body to his while the other cradled her head, silently urging her to continue her assault on his throat.
Cole groaned as she moved to his sensitive earlobe and mimicked his earlier actions.
"Oh, God, yes!" he murmured as she sucked and then bit down. "Harder. Bite harder," he ordered huskily. "Please, bite harder."
His request echoed in her mind; he needed her to taste him as he had tasted her. She complied with his request and started when something sparkling flowed over her tongue. Cole's blood---it could be nothing else---filled her mouth, effervescent, vibrant, and tasting like nothing she'd ever experienced before. She swallowed without even realizing what she was doing, and Cole moaned in joy. Bright and refreshing with a hint of bitterness, his blood shot from her mouth to each part of her body bringing vitality and energy with it. It was a part of Cole and it was as if a bit of him now resided in each cell of her body.
The dimly felt connection between them exploded.
As it had been when they were encased in ethereal fire, there was no Sam and no Cole, only some creature that was both of them at once. They no longer needed words, they each knew what the other wanted and needed. Cole needed her to drink from him; he needed to give her the most intimate aspects of his body and mind. He longed to give her satisfaction and joy. He needed to find those tender and sensitive areas that gave her the most pleasure. He wanted to love her until she could no longer bear the bliss of it and passed out from sheer joy.
She wanted to fulfill his every wish and drive away the sorrow that grayed his life and leeched the peace from his soul. She had to let him know that there was someone who cared for him, not just for what he could do for them, but for the person he was inside. She threw her head back as the power of their link surged through her.
Cole popped the button on her jeans, unzipping them with expert fingers. With his hands flat against her swelling hips, he eased them down until he could rest his hands beneath her round ass. He squeezed and kneaded, strong fingers digging pleasantly into her muscles.
He lifted her with absurd ease until she was on her knees and he could bury his face in her bust. He slid her jeans lower until her spread legs hampered further descent. He snarled slightly and she giggled at his impatience before she stood and let him divest her of the last of her clothing, smiling at his mental grumbles as her boots tangled in the denim and had to be removed before he could enjoy her naked form.
Finally when she was standing nude with one bare foot on either side of his thighs, his thoughts and smile indicated he was happy. With a hand cupping each ass cheek, he looked up at her with a lopsided smile. There was a flash of passion as he communicated his intent to her, and then his face was buried in the dark hair between her legs. He pressed her more tightly to him as his mouth sought out her most private elements. His long tongue delved and probed, searching and tasting her. She knotted her fingers in his thick hair and gasped as he found what he was seeking.
Wordlessly he urged her to spread her legs wider for him, to let him have greater access to her. His tongue flicked and circled her as she panted and moaned. Heat pooled and overflowed and she felt herself growing wet for him. Her legs felt weak and she rested her hands on his broad shoulders, pushing his shirt away. His hands left her derrière and he pulled away.
She watched as he removed his shirt and then the rest of his clothes. He did it slowly, deliberately revealing himself a bit at a time just as she wished him to. When he was done, he drew her back to him, sitting in front of her as he had before, tasting and pleasuring her again.
As passion flowed, the depth of their connection grew and grew until there was no conscious effort involved in their communication. Neither could hide anything they were feeling from the other. In her mind she felt his need to give himself to her, to link himself to her. She stared down at him in awe.
He was so beautiful in his nudity. His well-defined muscles played beneath his ivory skin when he drew back and looked up at her as he ran his tongue over his lips. His fingers explored her briefly, testing her readiness to accept his body into hers. They came away glistening with her want. He licked them appreciatively.
Delicious, he said without speaking. Like all of you. Sam closed her eyes as dizziness assailed her and liquid passion flowed from her core.
Cole prompted her down onto his lap again. With a hand pressed against her back steadying her he eased her down onto his hardness. For so slender a man, he was thick and broad, filling and stretching her.
The sight of his lower lip caught between his teeth as he strove to control the need to slam into her sent her desire rocketing and she took control from him, lowering herself hard. He gasped in pleased surprise, his eyes wide as they stared into hers.
"Want you," she explained raggedly. "Now!"
With a growl and eyes alight with demon fire, he conformed to her wishes and lifted his hips obligingly. With his hands beneath her round bottom, he lifted and lowered her in rhythm to his thrusts, helping her ride him strongly.
So tight! So hot! Cole's thoughts struck her mercilessly. Dear God, you're killing me! He thrust harder, seeking the deepest center of her.
Sam's gasp grew into a wail of pleasure from his delight. His mind whispered soft obscenities to hers as he commanded her to contract inner muscles and tighten her thighs as he retreated and to then open and relax as he pushed upwards.
In perfect sync, minds and bodies joined in an ideal duet, he fed her passion with words and thoughts while his rigid length rubbed across her sensitive core with each stroke.
When it seemed certain they would both expire if they couldn't reach beyond the bonds of their physical bodies, something burst inside her and she jerked in ecstasy and release as he cried out and pumped thick cream into her body. Riding the earthquake of each other's climax, they clung tightly even after the undulations of their bodies calmed and they fell panting to the sheets.
Sam woke up alone. The clock on the polished table beside the bed told her that sundown was hours past and far more hours than that had passed since the first time she'd joined her body to Cole's.
Their initial explosion of desire was only the beginning. Once released, their craving for each other was continuous. They had made love over and over until she was quite sure she'd die from an excess of passion and overexertion.
Muscles unused for too long and overused in ways they had never been before screamed in protest whenever she moved. Without the softening effects of passion-induced endorphins she hurt all over. Still, she couldn't regret a single second of it.
Sam grinned even though that action hurt. Was it possible to sprain your lips?
How marvelous the last day had been! Twenty-four full hours of pure unadulterated Cole love. The sex has been unbelievable. The man actually lived up to his reputation. It had really been the clichéd dream come true.
But dreams ended.
What was she going to do now? At some point this delusion had to end because that's all it was---a dream, a fantasy. Not real. And now it was time for that much vaunted reality check.
With a groan she eased from the big, rumpled bed. She noticed a large tear across the sheet and tried to remember how that had happened. Search her mind as hard as she could, she still didn't have the least idea when or how they had done that.
It took forever to stand up. Her thighs insisted they had done more than enough already and they weren't interested in any further exertion. Her calves joined them in the protest. With the aid of the wall, Sam made it to the bathroom and turned on the shower.
She didn't dare sit down on the pretty little brass vanity chair; she'd never manage to get on her feet again if she did. Instead she leaned against the subtly colored wallpaper until the water ran warm enough for her to tolerate it. With considerable mental and physical effort, she managed to step into the stall.
As the shower began to steam, the heat leached some of her aches away, and she was able to move enough to ascertain that she might live after all. The sweet-smelling soap helped clear her head as it washed the stickiness from her body.
At some point Sam's brain kicked in and she turned the showerhead to a strong massage setting. The beat of the water on her muscles felt good. She remained under the pulsating water until her skin was white and pruned from overexposure to the hot bath. With a sigh, she turned off the blessed water and stepped out of the stall. Feeling a good deal better, she wrapped her body in a generous towel and tried to take stock of her life.
Wet from the shower, she looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. The gash where the shattered cup had cut her cheek was pink with new skin. The theory that a vampire's saliva helped heal wounds was obviously true. The wound was smooth and barely visible; it probably wouldn't even leave a scar. The rest of the news wasn't as good. At the moment she looked pretty much the worse for wear.
She heard her brother's voice in her head. "Girl, you look like you been rode hard and put up wet." A smile twisted her bruised lips at bit. Rode hard was definitely the phrase for it. Though her daddy had said it better than Frank did.
"Damn, I look like ten miles of back country desert road after a wash out," she told the mirror with a shake of her head. "Rougher than Hell and twice as hard to get over," she added to finish one of her daddy's favorite expressions. Yes, definitely a better description of how she looked and felt than Frank's cliché.
Her eyes were somewhat bloodshot and the flesh underneath them was darkened and puffy from lack of sleep. There was a faint passion mark underneath her chin. Her uninjured cheek was reddened from a slight whisker burn. From the feel of it, there was a more serious one on the inside of her right thigh. She grinned, remembering how it had gotten there. It was well worth the current pain.
She found a couple of other passion marks and couldn't find it inside herself to be ashamed of how she got them, either. If she was remembering correctly, Cole likely had one on his left hip and a second on the inside of his thigh. She shivered, remembering his moans of encouragement as she'd sucked on his skin. Regardless of how he might feel about the marks now, he enjoyed getting them.
She smirked and continued to critically survey her features in the huge mirror. All in all, she looked like shit. Of course, she hadn't looked too great to begin with.
What the Hell had Cole seen in her that drove him to keep her awake for hour upon hour as he enjoyed her body? She'd fall asleep only to wake to his touch or his kiss as he insisted he had to have her one more time, just once more before he could rest peacefully. Once more had turned into once more again, and ended up as several times more. Vampires apparently had built-in Viagra.
But what triggered that sort of lust?
It certainly hadn't been any beauty she possessed. Hazel eyes half-hidden by too much wet brown hair stared back from her lightly tanned face. It wasn't a bad face, but it sure wasn't anything to write sonnets to or keep pretty vampire boys awake all day and half the night. True, she wasn't ugly. Despite the strong west Texas sun, her face was unlined and her skin was still good. But there was nothing striking about it, nothing to compare to supermodels or actresses or the gorgeous women who surrounded Cole daily.
It didn't matter if the famous beauties of the day were all airbrushed, professionally coifed, pampered, and made up to within an inch of their highly publicized lives; they still had something that she lacked, though she couldn't place a name to what that was. Maybe the word she was searching for was 'exotic' or 'exciting'. She was neither. She wasn't hideous or even unattractive; she was boring. She was just plain ordinary and normal. She couldn't even compare to Lurleen.
Sam wrapped her hair in a towel, wincing as the movement sent streaks of pain into her arms and shoulders. She revised her evaluation. Considering how she felt, she actually looked pretty okay. She had to say that hickeys, whisker burns, and appearing seriously hung-over aside, she looked fairly good for a woman who had just spent a full calendar day having the most intense sexual and emotional encounter of her life.
She had been granted the most intimate knowledge of someone else's life and had spent twenty-four hours acting like she was sixteen. Feeling like she was sixteen.
But still when all was said and done, she was just a normal, thirty-year-old, Texas redneck girl. And he was...perfect.
There was nothing else to be said on that subject. Cole was perfect.
"What did you expect, stupid?" she asked her reflection. "He's an immortal vampire from a romance novel! Of course, he's freaking perfect. Honest to God! When did you turn into an idiot?"
So what did a redneck girl from west Texas do when she met the perfect vampire? She let him screw her senseless, and returned the favor.
Sam flinched a little when she thought of how easy she'd been. Her mama, all those years of protestations to the contrary, had apparently raised a trashy slut after all. Cole hadn't had to do more than kiss her and she was all over him, legs spread, begging him to love her unconscious. She grimaced. What Cole must think of her! She had enough male friends to know how guys talked about girls who were that easy.
She wasn't really afraid Cole was going to describe all they'd done to his drinking buddies. He didn't have drinking buddies for one thing. And he wasn't that sort of man anyway. Still, she couldn't stop the flush of pure mortification that crept up her face as she imagined his opinion of her morals. Jesus, even Lurleen wasn't that easy!
And then there was the whole issue of whether or not any of this was actually happening.
Sam considered banging her head on the countertop, but bending over hurt too much.
"So what the Hell do I do now? He's not even real, for God's sake."
The trouble was he had felt real. He had felt very, very real. Shit!
"You do not get emotionally wrapped up with fantasies. That would fall into the 'needs to be taken away by men in white coats' category. Just how crazy are you, anyway? Come on!" she told her reflection.
She sighed. And what if he was real? What if he didn't mind if she was a slut and wanted to be her...what? Boyfriend? How was that supposed to work? He was all big city sophistication and she was a computer programmer from Odessa, Texas with a history of beating up Mexican boys who wouldn't take no for an answer. The idea of calling Cole anyone's boyfriend was more than a little laughable. He was too fanciful for so prosaic a term. Cole was someone's lover, or maybe their affaire de amour. He was certainly too exotic to be Sam's boyfriend.
She'd grown up rough and rowdy on the border and he was a fancy man. Crap!
Sure, he was rumored to have some sort of bad-boy past. The fans of the novels speculated endlessly over Cole's hazy background, sometimes suggesting the wildest flights of fancy. They imagined he'd been everything from a Roman gladiator to a Viking marauder to a cousin of Attila the Hun. Sam now knew none of that was true. He wasn't a dethroned prince of the realm or a highwayman. He was a baronet's son from County Cork.
Many readers insisted that his background had to be criminal or debased in some way, and his airs were a way of covering up his lowbred roots. Sam had never thought that. She had suspected Cole had been born well-to-do. Well, she had the satisfaction of knowing she was right.
She grinned now at the thought of all those who said he was originally a peasant. Well, he might have been Irish aristocracy and looked down on by his English counterparts, but he'd hardly been out in the fields digging potatoes! He was the son of a minor nobleman.
Acquiring the vampire virus that gave him immortality in exchange for ingesting small amounts of human blood hadn't reduced his aristocratic standing. Those humans who survived the infection were accounted superior to normal mortals. Nearly two centuries old, Cole was a lord even among those who considered themselves genetically above the rest of humanity.
Sam was the daughter of a west Texas-born wildcatter and a Louisiana truck stop waitress. What were she and Cole supposed to have in common besides their mutual agreement that he was a fantastic lover and hotter than Hell?
And if they could get past the social and financial gap, there was a far more substantial hurtle to overcome. There was his great romance.
Just like every man Sam knew, Cole came with emotional baggage. A gorgeous blonde, blue-eyed piece of baggage named Falcon Matthews. How was Sam supposed to compete with a woman named Falcon? She sighed again, and the thought of banging her head on the ornate marble counter grew more pleasant.
Even the names in this world were exotic. Falcon, Wynn, Cole---they were all soap opera extravagant. And she was plain old Samantha, Sam to her near and dear. She might be in a romance novel world but she didn't have a romance novel name...Or looks...Or anything else. And she for damn sure had no idea how to deal with the specter of Falcon Matthews.
Falcon was Wynn's daughter. She was beautiful and every bit as sophisticated as Cole was. And if reality was anything like the novels, she was also a cold-hearted, manipulative bitch who took the concept of betrayal to a whole new level of nasty. Sam didn't need Cole's memories to know all about Falcon and their ill-fated romance. It had been a major subplot running throughout the whole series of Marie Desiree's books.
Falcon wanted to prove she was one of the genetically superior elite who could survive infection with the vampire virus. Wynn hadn't wanted to risk her life when there was no need and had forbid any vampire to transfer the virus to her. Unwilling to accept her father's refusal to turn her into a vampire, Falcon schemed and manipulated and flat-out lied until Cole had turned her. The resulting rift between Cole and Wynn had left Cole banished from his vampire family and at war with his brother and overlord. Falcon used her beauty and wiles to keep Cole separated from his family and at her bidding for the next five years. Cole had fallen for her lies easily. Sam ground her teeth until they hurt whenever she thought of Falcon.
It never failed to amaze Sam how otherwise intelligent men couldn't see when a no-good woman was using them for their own ends. Redneck hicks or old money preppies, they were all the same. She'd seen it happen often enough in real life that the plot line in the novel hadn't surprised her though it made her madder than Hell. Cole didn't deserve to be treated the way Falcon treated him.
Worst of all, Falcon didn't even try to make him happy. Cole was absolutely miserable for most of the time he was with the blonde. With her newfound knowledge of Cole's life, Sam knew just how unhappy Cole had been and how much being separated from his family had hurt him. He hid it well, but he wasn't really meant to be a lone wolf. Cole needed to be loved by at least one person to feel like his life had meaning. But Falcon never loved him. And when her perfidy was finally revealed in such a way that Cole could no longer pretend she wasn't the sweet, gentle creature she pretended to be nor that she felt anything for him or any one else, he was heartbroken.
The coup de grâce came when Cole found out that Falcon was using the vampire powers he'd given her to indiscriminately kill any mortal that angered her or stood in her way. She was conscienceless in her pursuit of power. She was consumed by her need to take over her father's vampire kingdom and usurp his political power. Her obsession with gaining Wynn's throne had finally led her to the attempted murder of a family of innocents. They were no threat to her and had done nothing to deserve death, but they stood in the way of her expanding power.
Cole had done what he had to and stopped her. But killing her had nearly destroyed Cole. And Wynn had taken revenge on Cole in the worse possible way, declaring Cole a murderer and sentencing him to death.
Through whatever fluke of science or magic or God's grace that flung Sam into Cole's world, he lived through it all and survived his execution. But Sam wasn't sure if he'd continue to survive. At some point, the ghost of Falcon and what had happened would rear its far-from-pleasant head and Cole would have to deal with it. If he could. Sam wasn't sure about that.
Even though Falcon was gone, she'd left hideous scars on Cole's heart. Sam felt them when she was joined to him. Sam wondered if he'd ever be able to trust or give his heart to anyone again. Cole couldn't exist alone. If he couldn't get over Falcon, he'd give up again and allow circumstance to end his life.
Scanning the memories he'd planted inside her head, Sam felt like crying for how utterly Falcon had managed to eradicate what little trust Cole had in anyone. He hurt so badly. Sam wanted to make all that hurt go away.
Yeah, like that was even possible.
"Get it together, why don't you? He loved Falcon. It doesn't matter that she was a lying piece of jumped-up white trash; he loved her. And it hasn't been that long since he was forced to kill her," she told her reflection severely. "What do you want to do? Play Rebound Girl? Aren't you a little too old and too sensible for that kind of crap?"
Yeah, way too old. Way too sensible.
Shit. She suddenly hated the thought of being old and sensible. She wanted to be the one to love Cole and give him what he needed, fucked up as that idea was. And it was completely screwed up, of course. She was hardly the type of woman Cole could love.
It didn't matter. He wasn't real. He didn't exist. He was a character in a novel. She might as well have a crush on Indiana Jones. She took a deep breath.
"He's not real." Maybe if she repeated the phrase enough times, she'd believe it.
The problem was that unreal men did not leave hickeys on your neck and whisker burns on your thighs. They didn't make your body ache. They didn't leave the area between your legs so pleasantly sore you could barely walk.
And now she didn't even know where he was. She had no idea when he'd left or when he'd be back. She couldn't feel him in her head any more. Without that mental connection, she felt empty and more alone than she ever had before.
Who knew if Cole was even coming back?
There wasn't much in the bathroom to show he'd ever been there. She peeped in the hamper provided for used linens. There were other towels in it. He'd bathed before he left. She checked the closet. His clothes hung neatly inside with a row of expensive shoes arranged below them. His toiletries were tucked away just as neatly. She could smell his cologne, subtle and pleasing as it wafted gently out of the closet. She smelled it again when she sat down on the side of the bed. It rose from the pillows. She buried her face in them so she could inhale his scent and remember the sensation of being surrounded by it, and him.
Where was he? Where had he gone? Her toes touched something cold and metallic and she picked his watch up from the floor. They must have knocked the Rolex off the nightstand at some point, along with the lamp and the phone. The phone they'd put back when it beeped insistently and wouldn't stop. The lamp still lay on its side. She couldn't bring herself to pick it up. She looked down at the watch in her hand. Like the toppled lamp, it gave solidity to her memories and proved Cole wasn't a fantasy.
Okay. So maybe he did exist. That didn't mean he'd be back. She knew Cole could walk away from his possessions without a qualm. He'd done it before. That thought brought a band of pain to her chest. She castigated herself for being paranoid in addition to being delusional.
She wandered back into the bathroom and tried not to think about what would happen if he didn't come back. She had enough problems at the moment without worrying about what might or might not be.
Sam wasn't really sure where she was or how she had gotten there. Hell! She wasn't even sure she was really there. She might just be lying in a hospital somewhere in a coma. Didn't people write stories like that all the time? Wasn't there even some television show about the adventures some poor kid had while he was in a coma? In all likelihood, she was doing just that. This was one big knock-on-the-head induced dream. And if it wasn't, she was in a world of trouble, as her mama had been fond of saying. She'd disappeared from her world and landed here. If she was really in the world of The Vampire Encounters, then there were people back home looking for her.
Or were there? Aside from the job and Lurleen, who was there who would care if she dropped off the face of the planet? No one. Not a blessed soul. Sam's family was small. Her parents and grandparents were all dead. Her brother? She sniffed at the thought. Frank appeared when he wanted money or a place to stay for free. Once Sam had put her size seven boot down and made Frank help with the bills when he was sponging off her and wouldn't lend him a dime, he quit showing up.
She had fond memories of Frank as a child, but the broken-down drifter who appeared at her door in worn-out boots bore little resemblance to the kid she'd made stick pistols for when he was five years old. His tales of how he needed just enough money to ride in one more rodeo, of how he knew he could win this time, of how it was just bad luck he wasn't in the money already had long since ceased to make her feel sorry for him or want to help him. Now they just made her head hurt.
The last time he called her, he'd been highly insulted when she wouldn't lend him money so he could tie one on with his friends to celebrate his best score on a bronc yet. It wasn't good enough for him to win, of course, but he still thought it worthy of tying a good one on. She told him to let his friends buy his drinks. He swore at her and declared he was moving to DFW for good since she didn't love him.
Sam hadn't contradicted him. She'd just as soon Frank took himself off to Fort Worth and stayed there. It sure as Hell wasn't her fault he was wasting his life on crazy dreams of being a rodeo man. Dreams were well and good but not when you couldn't even scrape up the gas money to get from El Paso to Midland-Odessa.
Not that her dreams were any less crazy, she had to admit. She was the one who had half killed herself on a night of wild sex with a vampire that didn't even exist.
She definitely needed to bang her head on that marble counter now. All this circular thinking was making her dizzy.
Sam looked at the mirror again as she reached up to towel her hair. She realized belatedly that she had no clean clothes, no toothbrush, no deodorant, no anything. Hell, she didn't even have a hairbrush. Her clothes were trashed. She'd made the mistake of redressing at some point and the garments hadn't stood up to an overly enthusiastic Cole well at all.
She had nothing but her wallet and her novel. The wallet had been stuck in her back pocket and somehow the book had remained in her hand until she landed here with Cole. She hunted about and found a rich terry robe. It was prettily packaged with a logo of some sort which she didn't recognize immediately. Then it clicked. She was suddenly thankful for Lurleen's fixation with the movie Pretty Woman. This was the hotel from the movie, the Regent Beverly Wilshire Hotel.
She thought for a moment and berated herself for being stupid. Of course this was the Regent Beverly Wilshire. All she needed to do was look into the memories Cole had given her and she would know where she was. She knew when he checked in and where everything in the suite was. Damn, but she was an idiot.
Sam shook her head in self-deprecation. She hadn't been this messed up since she'd spent a week getting wasted in Nogales with some college buddies a good decade ago.
She stared into the mirror again and tried to think without going in circles, but found it wasn't really possible. With a sigh she gave up and fingered the tie to her robe. The humor of the situation struck her. Lurleen kept wanting to book the hotel's Pretty Woman holiday and was always begging Sam to agree to come along. Sam always refused, claiming she didn't have the money, though in truth she really just never thought it would be much fun. She didn't share Lurleen's fixation with the movie and had no interest in fancy hotels. And here she was smack in the middle of a suite to rival anything Julia Roberts had slept in.
Fate surely did have a sense of humor, she mused. She had always made fun of Lurleen for her obsession with the retelling of King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid. Now it looked like Sam owned less than the Beggar Maid and had no idea where her King Cophetua had wandered off to.
Lord, what a mess.
Sam sat down on the little vanity chair and laughed until tears flowed down her cheeks and her sides hurt more than they had when she woke up.
Sam was sitting cross-legged on a very comfortable couch, wrapped in the big terry robe and attempting to coil her wet hair into something resembling a respectable knot from what passed as a braid when Cole strolled in.
"I went out for a few things," he said with a half smile that made her insides turn to water. "I ordered something to eat before I left and with my usual impeccable timing, it arrived just as I did," he added, motioning to the hotel employee that followed him. He waved a hand and the waiter pushed his white-draped cart through the door and began to set the table.
Sam couldn't quite believe it. She wasn't sure if she should be angry at his nonchalance or just grateful he'd returned.
Cole had come back. He hadn't left for good. The thought that he might have left her alone had niggled and pinched at the back of her mind for the last half hour.
He took in her startled expression.
"What?"
She blinked a couple of times before she managed to answer.
"Nothing. Just...Well, I'm happy to see you."
His smile was blindingly bright.
"I'm happy to see you, too. I rather missed you."
He sat a pristine white shopping bag on the coffee table. There was a gold logo on it, but she was too far away to see it clearly and couldn't decipher it.
"What's all that?"
The vampire shrugged. "As I said, I popped out and picked up a few things I thought you might need."
He sat down beside her and began to take packages and bundles from the bag, scattering them across the coffee table. He surveyed her critically and raised an eyebrow at her untidy braid.
"First order of business," he said as he dug about in the bag. "A comb!"
"Cole!" Sam protested as he pulled at her earlobe with blunt teeth. She jerked her head toward the waiter putting the final touches on the beautifully set dinner table.
His chuckle reminded her that he was supposed to be the evil vampire in the novels, not the good one. "My dear, I'm sure that young man has seen far more in his career serving the famous and near famous than a gentleman simply showing proper satisfaction upon returning to his lady."
She frowned but couldn't really be angry with him. His lady. Cole might talk like an escapee from a movie of the week, but it certainly sounded nice when he said things like that. And when he looked at her with purple light flickering in his eyes she was pretty sure he could talk her into stripping naked in the middle of the capital building in Austin and letting him do her in the rotunda for the world to see. She freely admitted that he had her completely whipped. She was more than willing to do whatever he wanted.
What had happened to the tough daughter of a west Texas roughneck? She wasn't normally this big a pushover. Of course, never before had anyone like Cole wandered into her life. Prince Charming in a black hat, the hero with sharp, nasty fangs and a pink marshmallow filling, that was Cole. And that paragon of decadent, slightly bent morality wanted her. Desperately. When he was this close, touching her, she had a foggy sense of his thoughts and emotions. It was a shadow of what she felt when they were joined in sex and blood, but it was enough to let her know that he was far from tired of her.
Even so, a girl had to have some limits. She frowned at him.
He laughed again and kissed her quickly. He plucked the comb from her hand.
"Since you are a modest dove, let me do something to keep my mind off ravishing you."
He turned her about before she could object that she wasn't shy or modest; she just wasn't an exhibitionist. She was tempted to inform him that she didn't mind him wanting to ravish her. She didn't mind it one little bit. In fact, as soon as the waiter left, he was welcome to ravish away with her complete consent and blessings.
His breath tickled her ear as he leaned in close.
"I know. I intend to." Apparently he'd read her thoughts as easily as she did his. "I hope you don't mind that supper's going to be a bit cold before we get to it." He pulled her closer to him and made sure she could feel the hard evidence of his sincerity against her soft backside. He nibbled her earlobe again, completely ignoring any protests she thought of making and whispered, "In fact, I intend to take my own sweet time, because it's been a good six hours since I last ravished you. I may have to order dinner all over again."
As it turned out, Cole didn't have to reorder dinner. Not that Samantha cared one way or the other. By the time he seated her with graceful attention to etiquette at the white clothed table, she didn't particularly care if the meal was stone cold or not. She was starving.
However, she didn't need to worry the meal had been ruined while it waited on their carnal activities. The excellent equipage and serving pieces kept the hot foods pleasantly warm, if not piping and the cold items comfortably chill, if not frozen.
It all waited in beautiful and artistic arrangement, tempting Sam to sit and enjoy. The delicate china and crystal gleamed in the light of candles set on the table and about the room. The silverware was heavy in her hands, pleasantly balanced and beautifully engraved.
The centerpiece was a gorgeous creation of orchids and tropical flowers in a crystal bowl. However, the exotic blossoms placed so carefully in the center of the table annoyed Cole, and he set them aside.
"I can't see enough of you with those between us. And I'd far rather look at your loveliness than theirs."
Sam felt her insides turn warm and if she hadn't been absolutely ravenous, dinner would have gotten very, very cold indeed. As it was, her stomach rumbled and she reached for the covers protecting the dishes. She contented herself with feasting on the delicious food and Cole's astounding good looks.
Comfortably clothed in a glorious green satin wrapper Cole produced from his goody bag, she nearly gasped when the meal was revealed. She didn't exactly remember what her last meal was, probably fast food of some sort. It certainly wasn't tiny steaks grilled rare and succulent, served with potatoes so light and fluffy they were cloud-like. The myriad baby leaves of the salad sparkled with champagne dressing. The asparagus spears beneath their Hollandaise sauce were so tender-crisp and delicious Sam would have been happy with nothing but the vegetable. She ate with gusto.
The food was heavenly, but she kept getting distracted by Cole. He wore nothing but a satin robe much like hers, but in royal blue. Somehow the color made his eyes a deeper purple. He had teased her while the waiter was setting out the meal, threatening to eat naked. Now she wished she'd let him. If he'd been nude she might not have been quite so obsessed with the play of candlelight on the gleaming silk. Of course, she'd likely have been just has distracted by the warm glow on his creamy skin.
She wished she could stop thinking about his chest. She kept forgetting to chew, and any comment she made was likely to be disjointed and incoherent. He was just too damned distracting for words to come out of her mouth sensibly.
Cole didn't seem to suffer from the same affliction. While they ate, he turned his attention to an in-depth discussion of how he survived his execution and what event could possibly have brought Sam into his world. Luckily, she didn't have to explain any of what happened to her; it was in his memories as plainly as it was in hers. Sam mostly contributed nods and noises of agreement to his theories and wonderment. They reached no conclusion beyond an agreement that neither of them had any idea what had actually happened or how Cole was alive or how Sam had ended up with him.
He did however have some new information for her. "I don't suppose you watched the television while you were alone?" At her negative answer, he answered his own question. "Of course not. You really had no reason to."
She didn't tell him she hadn't watched the television because she couldn't find the remote, and the TV didn't have a button to change the channels. Sam really hated the trend of 'remote only' control in new electronics. Break the damned remote and the TV or stereo was useless. She considered it as useful a technological advance as Windows ME. And ME had caused her some serious alcohol consumption while helping a friend install some new gaming software. Sam would rather have gone out rattlesnake hunting barehanded.
Still, growliness at stupid remotes aside, she'd turned on the TV while waiting and wondering if Cole would return. She needed the distraction. But watching a local PBS station doing a fund-raiser had been interesting for all three minutes and she'd turned it off in disgust.
"I'm not sure if it would mean much to you even if you did watch the television," Cole continued. "You're not a part of this world, and I'm not sure how accurately time is portrayed in those novels of yours."
She opened her mouth to tell him they weren't her novels; she was the reader not the author but he hurried on without waiting for her reply.
"There was a newspaper outside our door and the date caught my eye. If I were a mortal human, I'd probably have had heart failure."
Her brow knotted in confusion and she felt a flash of his amusement in the depths of her mind.
"You're adorable when you frown like that," he said before he returned to his original train of thought. "Now, I'm well aware of everything you've read. In fact, I've lived all the events you've read about. They are an intimate part of my life experiences. But according to the date on that newspaper, they haven't happened yet." He paused to take a quick sip of wine. "I believe I've returned to the beginning of your novels."
It took a moment to figure out what he was talking about. "You mean you've gone back in time from your prospective? You've started over?"
Sam couldn't think of a single useful thing to say as he nodded tranquilly. She didn't know if she should be shocked or not. The band squeezing her ribs was back and tighter than ever. So he was as out of time and place as she was. Cole, on the other hand, was taking it all with remarkable sang-froid. She was freaking out more than he was and she found it intensely annoying. But he's written that way, Sam consoled herself. His lifestyle and habits were more conducive to supernatural occurrences than her own, so why shouldn't he be calmer about it? She frowned as he swirled the wine in his glass reflectively.
"If I haven't gone back to the very beginning of the first novel, I'm certainly close." He raised the glass in toast. "I salute you, my dear. You've given me the opportunity to decide if I wish to rectify all the mistakes I've made in the last decade or if I simply want to live them over."
If there was an ironic cast to the gesture, Sam couldn't completely blame him for it. Her frown faded as she felt the edge of his confusion and regret. Cole was well aware of how many wrong choices he'd made and what a mess his life had been.
He stared at his plate for a moment and she realized his tranquility was a pose. He was every bit as disconcerted as she was. "And since I've gone back to the beginning, I have the chance to make everything right with my brother. He has no reason to hate me at this point."
She couldn't understand why he cared so much about Wynn's opinion, but knew saying so would only lead him down avenues of emotional suffering. It wouldn't change his need for Wynn's approval and affection. She still didn't know quite what to say and so wisely said nothing and in a moment his mood had passed. Cole speared a bit of asparagus.
"I believe we should contact Wynn," he said lightly. "I know how you feel about him, and overall I agree, but he'll have contacts that I don't. In general, I avoid anything that smacks too strongly of magic or the occult but I have a feeling there is more to your appearance than simple science. I fear we'll need his help in sorting all this out."
Sam nodded silently. So he was anxious to see she went home. Well, it made sense. He might feel a certain fondness and even a sense of responsibility toward her, but he couldn't want her to hang around forever. She was hardly the type that rich, playboy vampires would want around for more than a little while. She wished their bond didn't fade so quickly and she had more than just an impression of what he was feeling. He was fond of her and grateful. It was stupid for her to want or expect more.
"Good idea." She manipulated her lips into a false smile "I'd better get back before I'm missed. We both have lives to get back to."
His fork paused in midair for the barest instant before he ate the morsel impaled upon it. He chewed reflectively, taking his time with his steak, before he swallowed and spoke.
"I thought about that while you were sleeping," he said and speared another morsel of food. He handled his fork European fashion, not bothering to switch hands when he cut something or troubling to make sure the utensil was right side-up rather than upside-down. There was a careless grace to way he ate that made her more studied America manners appear stiff and artificial.
"Of course," he said. "I completely understand your wish to return to your friends and family as soon as you can." He smiled and the tenderness of it seemed to glide under the soft luxury of her wrapper. "We'll talk to my esteemed brother and if he's still in a good mood with me, perhaps he'll be willing to help." His smile broadened as he added. "I'll see that you end up exactly where you belong."
She nodded silently. It was no less that she'd expected. There was no reason for Cole to want her to hang around. She smiled back. If there was little happiness in the smile, well, that was to be expected, too, wasn't it?
What little cheerfulness she felt vanished when Cole called Wynn immediately after the end of their meal to set up a meeting. She hoped he'd wait a little while.
"I see. Well, thank you, Alice." Cole finished his call and put away his cell phone. "I'm afraid Wynn is out of town on a private pleasure trip." His teeth seemed slightly on edge with the last words. "Incommunicado for at least a week."
The meeting with Cole's brother wasn't going to happen. Wynnston Matthews wasn't in town. He wasn't available and wouldn't be for several days. She couldn't suppress the burst of joy she felt.
Cole didn't seem terribly troubled by the delay either. He was amused. "Well, I supposed we'll just have to make you comfortable until he does appear." His grin was filled with boyish enthusiasm. "What do you say to a few days in my company? I assure you that you'll enjoy it."
Sam had no doubts about that and readily agreed. How many girls got the chance to hang with their favorite literary character? Wasn't that one of the standard questions used for Internet quizzes and beauty magazines? If you could meet your fantasy guy, who would it be? Well, Sam had met hers and was in no hurry to get back to her real life. There was nothing in Midland-Odessa to compare to Cole. And so what if she had a crush on him? That was no crime either. She knew he wasn't real and that this was all a fantasy. So where was the harm in indulging the dream for just a little while? Lurleen could frown all she wanted to. It was a nice dream and Sam just wanted to enjoy something for a change.
"Sure. I imagine it'll be great." To her surprise, her second attempt at a false smile washed into sincerity.
"Excellent," Cole smiled and then laughed, a boyish flash of white teeth that confirmed he could never be a monster. "You know, I don't believe I've ever had a chance to simply spend time with a friend."
So that's how he saw her, Sam thought, a friend. A warm rush of pleasure coated her insides.
Cole once stated in one of the early books that he had no friends, that he never had had any and that he didn't want any. It was a lie, of course. Anyone reading the scene knew that. It was one of his big cover-up lies. He was hiding his loneliness and vulnerability whenever he made those types of statements. Cole wanted a real friend more than he wanted to live forever.
Very well then, she'd be his friend. It was good enough. Better than good.
After all, Sam reminded herself carefully, she didn't love Cole Grayson. She couldn't. A single day spent in his company wasn't enough for her to fall in love.
Sam smiled when he kissed her fingers and ignored the gymnastics her stomach performed at the feel of his lips on her skin.
He's not real, she repeated. I can't love him; he's not real.
The salesclerk couldn't take her eyes off Sam's worn cowboy boots. Sam narrowed her eyes, a wordless warning for the girl. That skinny thing had no reason to look down her surgically enhanced nose at the Texan. Sam knew people in California wore boots. They had been fashionable off and on for some time and even when out of favor, some movie stars still wore them.
After glancing down, Sam had to admit that maybe it wasn't the boots that were the clerk's concern so much as the state they were in. Sam had owned them for a fair number of years and they were beyond the stage of well broken in. They had been resoled twice and were scuffed and battered. They were also the most comfortable pair of shoes Sam had ever had. And at the moment, they were the only shoes she owned. But considering how disreputable they were, Sam couldn't in all honesty blame the clerk for looking at her sideways.
Everything about Sam was disreputable. Her jeans were discolored and torn, and not in a fashionable way. The fading wasn't from stone-or acid-washing; it was pure wear. And the rips weren't there for aesthetics. They were courtesy of Cole's over-active libido. He had gotten a little happy with his claws at one point in their lovemaking. The boots and the jeans were the only things that had even half-survived.
Her T-shirt was completely destroyed, so she was wearing one of Cole's shirts with the sleeves turned up several times. Luckily the shirt hung well down her thighs, hiding some of the worst of the holes in her pants. She didn't have a lot of choice about wearing the jeans; Cole's pants wouldn't go over her broader hips, so rips or not, it was the jeans or go bottomless. Regardless of how far down her thighs his shirt hung, she didn't feel it made a decent dress.
Sam ignored the clerk and glanced at the price tag on the nearest pair of slacks and winced.
"Cole." She waited for him to stop fiddling with the dress he was holding up to her. He put it back on the rack, but pulled out another. "Cole."
"Hmm? Yes, my dear?" His attention was still focused on the dress, a frown marring his smooth brow as he critically surveyed the blue silk's effect on her complexion.
"I don't see anything here. Let's go somewhere else," she said diplomatically with an eye on the supercilious sales clerk.
"They have a decent enough selection." He wasn't getting the more subtle undertones of her message. "If not out here, then in their private collection." He brightened visibly. Even frustrated with his inattentiveness, Sam couldn't resist his infectious smile.
"That's the answer!" Cole turned to the clerk. "Miss, we'll need to see something from the designer's collection. Size twelve," he said with a measuring glance at Sam's hips.
Sam tilted her head at him. That was a little too much! For that accurate a reckoning, he'd need more than vampire senses, he'd need a deep familiarity with the female form that could only come from intimate knowledge of a great many women. She took a second to delve into his memories. They didn't exist like her own; it wasn't as though she'd lived his life. It was more like remembering a movie she'd seen so many times she knew all the scenes by heart.
This particular section of the film was decidedly X-rated. Cole was a disturbingly experienced man.
Then she laughed at herself. He didn't need to be experienced to know her size. Cole had all her memories; of course he knew what size she wore. Honestly! Her wits had taken a permanent siesta. Not only were her hormones going crazy, but her I.Q. had vanished. She was convinced she hadn't been able to think coherently since she'd landed on top of Cole.
The clerk wasn't as impressed with Cole's ability to correctly judge women's sizes as Sam was. Her raised eyebrow clearly indicated the young woman's opinion of Sam's hips, but she nodded and said, "Of course." Her expression said it all---a sale was a sale, regardless of ratty boots, big hips, and torn-up jeans.
"Cole, we really should go," Samantha repeated. If the low-end clothes cost more than she made in a month, she knew the fancier clothes were way beyond the one-hundred-and-fifty-three dollars she had in her wallet. She was just lucky she carried her wallet in her pocket rather than putting up with the bother of carrying around a purse. Otherwise she'd be stone broke. She shook her head. There wasn't a thing in this store she could afford. Even if her credit cards were functional in this make-believe world they didn't carry the kind of limit that would let her shop in this sort of a place.
"What?" Cole asked, still distracted by the blue silk dress.
"I can't afford anything here," she whispered. "I told you when we started out on this that I'm not a Rodeo Drive kinda girl. The kind of rodeo I'm up to has horses and bulls, not designer clothes. My pocketbook doesn't cover this sort of thing."
He smiled gently. "Don't be silly, dearest. I didn't expect you to pay for any of it. I intend to buy your wardrobe."
Sam flushed. "That's nice, but I can't accept something like that."
He put the blue dress away and plucked a green from the rack instead. "Much better. This will make your eyes positively glow."
"Cole, I said we need to go now." Sam insisted.
"Nonsense," the vampire replied. "You'll look splendid in this one." He held it out to the clerk and said in a louder voice, "We'll take it. I'll need a belt to match and shoes, of course. Hmm, perhaps earrings, but not a necklace."
"Of course. We have nice selection this way," the shop girl said with a happy smile.
Sam shook her head as her flush deepened and burned her cheeks. "I don't want it." Sam ignored the clerk's glower. "Thank you," Sam added after an awkward moment of stunned silence.
Cole waved for the clerk to continue as though Sam hadn't spoken. "It's nothing. I told you so."
Anger flared deep in Sam. "And I said I don't want it."
As Cole brushed her objections away yet again, she spun on her worn-down heels and stalked from the shop. No man, not even Cole Grayson, owned Sam enough to completely ignore what she wanted!
She was two blocks down Rodeo Drive before Cole appeared in front of her. Appeared was the correct term to describe it. One second the sidewalk before her was empty and the next she was colliding with Cole's very solid chest. She glared up at him before stepping purposefully around him. She managed a half-dozen steps before she ran into that gently unyielding wall again.
"If you don't mind," she said aware of how deep her Southern accent had just become. It was pure west Texas and a sign of just how annoyed she was.
"But I do, my dear," he said. "What has you so terribly upset?"
Sam stared up at him in open-mouthed disbelief. After a moment, she snapped her mouth closed and sniffed. He might be more beautiful and charming than any male alive but he was still as dense as any man ever born. "I told you I didn't want that dress and I wanted to leave. You ignored me."
He tilted his head in what she took for faint confusion. The late afternoon sun drew peacock blue highlights from his long black hair. If anything, he looked even better in the daylight than he did in doors. Vampires who could stand in the sunlight! Sam considered Marie Desiree quite clever to make her vampires able to go out in the daytime. It opened up all sorts of plot twists that night-only vampires didn't have. And it made Cole nearly glow. But right now she was annoyed and wished he was inside, or it was evening. He was wearing extremely dark glasses and she hated them. She couldn't see his eyes. It made it hard for her to tell what he was thinking.
"I explained there was no need to leave. I'll pay for your clothes," he said. "I always take care of my girls."
She could barely keep from slugging him.
"I am not one of your girls." She twisted the final word into something as ugly and demeaning as he had made her feel.
"What do you mean? We've been together for three days now."
Sam glowered up at him fiercely and didn't say a word. Back in Texas, there were hardened roughnecks who were afraid to piss off Old Man Bailey's little girl. In addition to the tale of Gilbert Martinez, they said she had a death glare that could shrivel a man's guts. She turned that glare full force on Cole.
He was obviously made of stronger stuff and braver than the crews who worked the oilrigs but he was not completely immune to the force of her displeasure.
"All right," he conceded. "I'll admit my English is occasionally archaic. Maybe girl isn't what you call a lover any more. But that has nothing to do with it. The fact is that I take care of the women I sleep with."
Her fingers curled into fists. "It has everything to do with it. I don't take money from men I sleep with," she grated. She tried to get herself under control before she completely lost her temper and decked him. "I pay my own way. I always have. I've looked after me since I was sixteen. You don't owe me anything for sleeping with you. I'm not a whore."
He recoiled as if she'd slapped him.
"I never said...." Anger settled over his flawless features.
Sam scowled up, damning him for being six-foot-three. Well, he might tower over her but she didn't care. She'd taken down bigger men for a whole lot less of an insult.
"Then don't treat me like one!"
"I didn't!" he snarled as he grabbed her shoulders. "I would never...."
"You just did!" she snarled back at him. "I told you how I felt about shopping there and you ignored me. You wouldn't leave when I wanted to. Then you insisted on buying that stupid dress. Nothing I said mattered. Nothing I was thinking or feeling mattered. If that isn't how you treat a whore, I don't know what else you'd call it."
"I never meant...." He floundered. "Bloody Hell, woman!"
She didn't give him a chance to continue. "I may be living in your rooms at that fancy hotel and you may think this is all some big fantasy, but this isn't Pretty Woman and I'm not Julia Roberts!"
He stared at her without comprehension for just a moment, then his smile burst out and without another word, he kissed her. She grappled with him for an instant, still furious with him, but he nicked his own lip with suddenly sharp fangs and his blood tingled into her mouth. Along with his blood came his emotions and thoughts.
I just want to take care of you, came his mental apology. I never meant to hurt you. Mixed with his words were his feelings: contrition and pure affection so deep it bordered on something very different. It was something Sam didn't want to put a name to. She gasped from the power of his feelings.
Cole hadn't meant to ignore her; he'd simply been so excited and pleased with the idea of buying her presents that he hadn't been listening. It had never occurred to him that she'd see his actions as anything but what he intended---a gift for a beloved friend. True sorrow that he'd hurt her was mixed with his wish that she'd allow him to do this small thing for her. The money meant nothing to him; he had far more than he needed. He just wanted to share it with her. He wanted to share all he had with her. He hadn't meant to trample her will.
He drew back from her and removed his sunglasses so she could see the truth in his eyes.
"Don't you realize that I owe you my life? That oh-so-in-love-with-Wynn author who created me also destroyed me. I felt the flames that consumed my body, dearest Samantha. I died screaming from the agony of it."
Sam shuddered and couldn't bear to look too closely at that memory.
"Death had me firmly in his embrace. Then his painful arms were replaced by your warm, gentle ones. How could I not want to share everything I have with you?" He ran his fingertips along her jaw line. His lips descended on hers again and his mind spoke to hers. "I firmly believe that without you, I wouldn't even exist."
Tenderness so intense it hurt ran through him bringing tears to her eyes and an ache to her heart. She refused to place a name to the warmth he felt whenever he looked at her. To do so would bind her to him forever and when his feeling for her faded, she'd be devastated.
It was just gratitude, anyway.
It won't fade, he promised her, his words rolling through her mind as he kissed her more deeply. But it might grow. I know you, Samantha Bailey, and there is a great deal in you for me to admire and love. Yes, my dear, I used the feared word love. His mental comments were tinged with amusement that it was she who feared to say the word rather than he. In their case, it might be he who was from Venus while she was the Martian.
He didn't allow the amusement of that thought to distract him for more than a moment before he returned to his view of their relationship.
"Maybe it is primarily gratitude now but that's not all it is." His thoughts were as warm and sincere as his spoken words. "Will you give me the chance to see if we can be more?"
She was just crazy enough to say yes. She drew back to look into his perfect face. "You know you're not even real, right?"
"Perhaps," he answered. "But then again, perhaps I am."
"Maybe," she admitted with a sigh and leaned against his chest. "I guess that's good enough for the time being."
He chuckled. "It is indeed." She felt his lips pressed to the top of her hair. They just stood there contentedly hugging for a while. "You do realize we are standing in the middle of Rodeo Drive, don't you?"
She had forgotten, but couldn't really work up a lot of feeling about it. "Are people staring?"
"Oh, yes. Several." There was a smile in his voice.
"Do you care?"
"Not in the least," he answered. "It's one of the advantages of not being real. You're free to do whatever you feel like doing without worrying about the censure of others." She laughed and he tightened his hold on her. "Now, will you please let me buy you that green dress? You really will look spectacular in it."
She laughed again and gave in. "Yes, you can buy that damned green dress."
"Good!" He took her hand and together they strolled back toward the shop completely oblivious to the curiosity of any onlookers. Neither of them cared about the little scene they'd created in front of one of the most fashionable boutiques on Rodeo Drive. Sam was pretty sure L.A. had seen much worse than an impeccably dressed Adonis hugging a tattered and rather plain cowgirl. If they hadn't, they needed to visit Austin some Saturday night.
It didn't matter. They could all go hang from a mesquite tree and dry out in a desert breeze for all she cared. Right now she was fairly content, and Cole was still whispering sweet nothings in her head. She had to say she liked the way he apologized.
He escorted her down the street as if she were a princess royal, her hand resting lightly on his arm. "So you don't like the term 'girl'?" he said as he paused and brought her hand up to his lips. "Would you prefer I said you're my woman?"
Sam's insides did another of those flip-flop gymnastic maneuvers and she took refuge in silence.
"Well? You know if you don't say anything I realize that means you want to say yes but are afraid to," he advised her. He laughed when she frowned up at him. "I do know all about you remember." His grin was nearly blinding. "That memory exchange was a two-way street after all, my dearest friend."
She shook her head and grinned back. What other recourse did she have? The man was completely irresistible.
He pushed open the door to the shop they'd left so unceremoniously. Ushering her in with all the aplomb he'd show a duchess, he called out for the clerk. His hand tightly wrapped about Sam's, he advised the clerk they would see the designer collection after all.
"And do check to see if there's something that will match my girlfriend's boots," he added with pointed censure when the young woman tilted her nose to the sky again. He winked at Sam as the clerk gasped and flounced off in a minor huff.
Sam threw her head back and laughed out loud. She thought he hadn't noticed the clerk's subtle rudeness. Apparently he'd just been waiting for the right moment to interject his displeasure. "That was mean."
"Well, I am the evil villain, after all," he reminded her.
"Okay, so is the play supposed to be this depressing or is it just me?" Sam whispered.
Cole grinned and coughed faintly to suppress a laugh. "Well, it is titled Les Miserables."
"They got that part right," Sam asserted.
He leaned in closely. "And is it making you miserable, my dearest? We don't have to stay, you know."
She shook her head. "No, I suppose I need to see it all the way through." She sighed. "I'm betting this is one of those where they all die in the end, right? Like bad anime?" Her brow wrinkled in mock consternation.
This time Cole didn't manage to suppress his mirth and laughed aloud, much to the displeasure of the people around them.
"I can't believe you've never heard of Les Miserables."
"I've heard of it!" she declared in a defensive whisper. "I read the art section of the paper! I've seen reviews of it. I've even heard some of the songs. I've got a friend who's into it and she plays the damned CD incessantly," she explained and then frowned at him. "The road show just never made it to Midland-Odessa. I think it was in Dallas and Houston but that's a hell of a haul, Cole. I can drive to L.A. as easy as I can drive to Houston."
The woman behind them shushed loudly and Cole turned a quelling frown in her direction. He opened his mouth to say something cutting, but Sam placed her free hand on his thigh. She mouthed an apology at the offended lady.
With a snort of derision, Cole settled back though he let Sam know he wasn't upset with her by squeezing her fingers. He simply didn't like anyone interfering with her in any way. His excessive protective streak amused Sam no end.
He'd been holding her right hand since before the orchestra began to play. His fingers wrapped about hers were, without doubt, one of the reasons she was having problems following the play. He also had the wonderfully distressing habit of leaning over to nibble her ear or lick her neck whenever the action lagged. Consequentially, she'd spent a fair portion of the production thinking libidinous thoughts about her black-haired vampire rather than following the lives of the French criminals, police, and revolutionaries on the stage.
It had been that way since they'd reentered the clothing shop. Cole hadn't been more than two feet from her since he'd convinced her to let him buy her clothes. As she'd sat in the boutique in her beat-up boots and ripped jeans, he'd held her hand as if he was afraid she'd walk out of the shop again. He'd chatted to her while outfit after outfit was presented for their scrutiny. His comments as he viewed the clothes were often subtly licentious and the flashes of thought she received from him regularly were completely obscene. Unable to even try and remain angry with him, she ended up giggling through most of their shopping expedition. Her only protest came when he asked to see evening gowns. She had absolutely no use for formal wear. Or so she thought. When he'd explained that he wished to take her to the theater, she could hardly believe it.
"Why is it so odd that I would wish to take you out?" he asked as she stared at him wide-eyed. "We are dating, after all."
She gasped at the idea of dating Cole Grayson, unable to quite wrap her mind around the concept. She was so taken with the thought she didn't demur when he bought not one but three fancy gowns.
She was wearing one of them now. It was the same shade of green as the day dress he'd favored, a subtle, mossy shade that went well with her ash-brown hair and hazel eyes. Cole had been concerned she'd dislike the low décolletage, but she reminded him that she'd worked the rigs with her father in the summer in tank tops and shorts that showed a whole lot more than the elegant evening gown did.
Cole focused on her bust and bemoaned the fact that he hadn't been there to see her more casual outfits. She laughed. She certainly didn't mind Cole staring down her top.
Sam had learned to take care of herself years earlier and wasn't overly concerned about showing a bit of bust. Any one who said anything out of line or made a pass would find out she didn't put up with that crap. But it was okay as long as it was Cole. Not that she was very worried about anyone else fixating on her chest. From what she'd seen of L.A., anything that covered more than an a few inches of a person was considered conservative. There were more men and women on the street wearing skimpy outfits than there were taco stands in Austin. She'd never seen such flamboyance, and her best friend was Lurleen McArdle!
Still, the wild side didn't shock Sam. She'd been across the border to Ciudad Juarez a few times with her dad's crews. The good Lord knew you could find just about anything you wanted across the border. After that, she thought very little could ever shock her. She grinned at the memory. Her mama had been scandalized that Sam was sent to chaperone a bunch of roughnecks through the bars of Ciudad Juarez, but someone had to make sure the boys all made it out of Mexico in one piece. Mama hadn't known quite what to make of it all.
She wondered what her mama would have made of Cole.
Thinking of Mexico while simultaneously trying to follow the course of Jean Valjean's tragic life made her long for a decent cantina and a bottle of tequila. The longer the show went on, the more she felt the need for strong liquor.
Oh, the play was fine, beautifully enacted with fine vocals and sets. It was interesting but there was a point at which all the angst became a bit much. Sam was too much of a pragmatist to appreciate all the self-sacrifice and over blown emotion. She'd never liked 'talking head' movies, and though these heads sang more than they talked, it was pretty much the same mindset. Instead of rationally considering what they should do, they were all wrapped up in some emotional or philosophical concept. Sam rapidly became convinced they actually enjoyed the misery. They didn't seem to know how to just work though life's crap and move the Hell on.
More than once, she shook her head at the stupidity of it all. Of course, it was that way in most of the movies she saw and the books she read. The characters wallowed in the misery and made stupid self-sacrifices that didn't help anyone. And they invariably ended up broken-hearted or dead. Time after time, she'd read it or seen it on her TV screen. Fictional people couldn't seem to get a handle on their lives. Wasn't there a single sensible person in any fictional story? Even Cole, noted for his practicality and confirmed egotism, had finally surrendered to senseless altruism. It had gotten him killed in the end.
She didn't want to think of Cole dying. Death by fire was horrible, and she didn't want to imagine it. She certainly didn't want to delve into his memories of the event. She shuddered. His hand tightened around her and she looked up to find him staring at her intensely.
"It didn't happen," he whispered. "I'm not dead. You stopped that somehow. I can't claim to know what caused you to be here or how time was reset for me but I firmly believe it has something to do with how much you cared about me."
She didn't have time to ask how he knew what she was thinking when his own thoughts were mostly closed to her. Cole stood precipitously and tugged her from her seat. He jerked his head toward the stage.
"You're right; this is miserable. And yes, everyone dies in the end." His fine lips curled in distaste. "Come on, let's get out of here."
Cole was too quiet as they drove back to the hotel. Sam wasn't sure if she should ask what had caused his sudden change of mood at the theater. She had suspicions, but wasn't sure. If he was able to read her mind, then her thought of his death had to have affected him. As far as he was concerned, it had only been a very few days since he'd burned to death.
Still, she didn't dare ask what was going on in his head. When you got right down to the bare bones of it, she had no idea what she and Cole actually were to each other. She didn't know if she had the right to ask what he was feeling. She couldn't claim that fact didn't bother her. In fact, it bothered her more and more as each hour passed.
The first day had been easy. Sam had been sure being with Cole was all some hallucination from which she'd soon awaken and she had just gone with it. If it was all a dream, there was nothing wrong with acting like a complete slut with Cole.
After all, that's what dreams were for, right? You did the stuff you'd never do in real life.
The next day had been a bit more confusing. Finally spending some time out of the sack, she'd been forced to actually talk to Cole though most conversations soon ended up back in bed, or the shower, or the couch in the sitting room. Cole seemed to think any surface, vertical or horizontal, that was sturdy enough was a proper venue for sex. Still, between the bouts of lovemaking, they'd talked.
Now it was the third day of whatever it was she was experiencing and they'd had their first quarrel, made up in the middle of the street no less, and had their first foray into the world outside their hotel suite on a 'date'. Sam was even more confused than she'd been when she awakened alone in their hotel room that first time.
Dreams didn't last this long. Maybe she was in a coma. Maybe she was dying. She didn't know. Having been firmly in control of her life since she was a teenager and now being without that control was terrifying. The thought of life without a compass was unthinkable. She wasn't, content to just float through life pushed wherever the winds of fortune and happenstance blew her. Her plans had always been clearly laid out and followed.
She'd just never planned on meeting Cole Grayson.
The lights of Los Angeles flashed by outside as Cole's Maybach slid through the night and the silence inside the luxurious car grew until it was an uncomfortable wall between them. It added to the disconnection with reality Sam felt. It was becoming more and more difficult for her to sort out what was happening. Thinking about what was real and what wasn't just led her back to where she started and she ended up traveling the same mental loop again.
Right now she felt like nothing was real. The rich interior of the car seemed completely separated from the world outside. There was no road noise, no sounds from the passing cars, even the engine was hushed. The feeling of separation and unreality that first appeared at the play was growing minute by each crawling minute. Sam wanted to scream just so the silence would go away.
More than ever she was sure this was some dream and she was going to wake up alone in a hospital. Or maybe she'd never wake up at all. Maybe she'd just suddenly blink out of existence. Maybe she was already dead. Cole was convinced he was dead when they first met. He'd gone from burning to death to colliding with her. Perhaps he was right; this was some weird afterlife, and they were both dead. She'd felt his death when they exchanged memories; it felt pretty damned real. Hers might have been quick, and so she'd felt nothing as she died. Sam picked at the polished burl trim on the door and stared out at the stillness of L.A. She wished she had some answers to the thousands of questions that plagued her. She'd be happy with just a single practical explanation at this point.
"Are you going to ask me what's wrong, or are you just going to slowly destroy several thousand dollars worth of exotic wood trim with your fingernails?" Cole's voice sounded far too loud in the quiet that enshrouded them.
Sam jumped and stared at him in alarm. For once, he sounded as unreal as everything else seemed to be.
"Sorry." Sam snatched her hand away from the door.
"That's not what I meant." Cole reached across the console to where her hands were clasped together guiltily in her lap. His fingers were warm when they curved over hers. Real. "I don't give a damn about the car. I do care that you don't feel you can talk to me."
"Are you reading my mind again?" she asked as she glanced at him suspiciously. She couldn't feel his thoughts. Was it possible he could feel hers? Did that go with being an illusion? Or perhaps it was because he was a vampire. Whatever the reason, it certainly seemed that he knew what she was thinking more often than she knew his thoughts.
"Only a bit," he admitted. "I can pick up a sort of emotional overtone. Not really much else." He didn't take his eyes from the road. "Why are you not talking to me? Why are you frightened?"
She stared down where his slim, elegant hand covered hers. It felt strong and substantial. When he touched her, the sense of illusion fled. Maybe Cole was right and this was Heaven. He was her reward for not being a completely awful person. Or maybe he was her punishment. The perfect man, and she couldn't even be sure he existed. He might be as fictional as the characters she'd been watching on the stage tonight. Hell, maybe she was, too. And just as messed up in the head.
If Cole was a dream, then it was just a matter of waiting until she woke up. And if he wasn't... Well, that was the problem, wasn't it?
"I'm feeling pretty mixed up about all this. What's real, what isn't. I just can't be sure about anything."
"I know. I've grappled with it. I don't have an answer either. But we can't spend our lives wondering endlessly what's real and what isn't. That is a sure path to insanity. I told you that I've decided to live as if this is real and I've been given a second chance. That's not something to throw away." He tooled the big car expertly through the dense traffic. "We simply have to take what's been given to us and use it." He smiled out at the world. "At least we have each other."
"That's part of the problem," Sam said softly and looked back down at their clasped hands. This was something that did have an answer and she'd find it. She was brave enough to face it. She'd never been labeled a coward. She wasn't one of those fictional characters she hated who hemmed and hawed around a subject. She liked to get right down to the problem and solve it.
"I'm not sure what I am to you," she admitted. "You said we're dating but I'm not sure I know what you mean by that. Right now, all I know is that we're two people who have sex. I don't know if we're anything else."
He made a small sound of amusement and there was a flash of a dimple as he grinned. "Oh, we're definitely more than that," he said resolutely.
She couldn't send him an answering smile. "But what else are we? I mean, aside from a couple that has sex that makes my head explode, what are we?"
"I don't know exactly but I know we're for more than that," he said as he squeezed her hands. "We have talked, you know. In between those bouts of mind-exploding sex, we've talked quite a bit."
She didn't look up from her contemplation of his finely sculpted hands. "Not about anything important. Just everyday, trivial stuff," she said sadly.
His grin reappeared. "You forget. You already know everything important there is to know about me. Do you want me to tell you about my life? I can. I can recite it all for you, but it won't be anything new. You know what I've done and what I haven't, where I've been and who I've seen. You know what I'm proud of and what I'm ashamed of. I can't hide anything from you any more than you can hide anything you've done or thought from me."
An uncomfortably warm flush stole up Sam's face and she longed to hide her face in her hands, but Cole held them tight and she didn't dare move them.
"It's the most wonderful thing that's ever happened to me," he continued. "And it makes us far more than simply two people who enjoy the pleasures of each other's bodies. We are far, far more than that." His grin was nearly blinding and when he looked at her there was life and excitement in his lavender eyes. "Don't you see? It's a gift I can never sufficiently repay."
"I don't understand," Sam admitted. She wished she could think clearly. She was so tired of her thoughts chasing each other round and round in circles.
"Samantha, I don't have to pretend with you," he said as his hand tightened over hers. "I'm free to say what I think and do what I feel like doing. Indeed, I'm so sure that you know my every thought that I occasionally forget that I do need to explain my reactions to you periodically. That's what happened today with our shopping expedition. I assumed you knew what I was doing." That boyishly charming smile of pure happiness remained firmly fixed on his lips. "And even though you didn't, it was still all right because you let me know in no uncertain terms what you did believe the case to be. And it only took a moment for me to give you my thoughts, and everything was fine again."
"Cole, you can't expect to solve everything by doing some sort of mind meld!" Sam protested.
"Why not?" he countered. "We've been given a precious gift. Why not use it?"
"I...." She didn't have any argument for that piece of logic. "So you think we should just...what? Keep swapping thoughts and memories whenever we can?"
"I think that's exactly what we should do." He took his eyes from the traffic long enough to look at her with such warmth she couldn't look away. "Sam, most people go through life never sure what their loved ones feel or think. They blunder through as best they can and often never say what they really feel because they're afraid of how their partner will react to it. Well, I don't have to worry that I'll tell you something I shouldn't. You probably know it already. And if you don't, well, I now know you well enough to know you won't judge me. For once I don't need to worry or hide or try to pretend I'm someone I'm not."
The sharp glance he directed at her surprised murmur stopped the words she was about to say before they had a chance to form coherency.
"And I don't need to worry that you have some agenda or hidden motive. I've spent the last ten years of my life constantly wondering what Falcon was thinking or plotting. I never knew how she really felt. Lies piled up upon lies, and the truth became lost if it ever actually existed. Finally it became so difficult to tell what was real and what wasn't that I just no longer cared." The hand gripping the steering wheel was white knuckled and she felt the hand resting on hers tremble. His smile was gone.
"I reached a point where nothing mattered any more, not me, not her. Nothing. Little by little, each lie, each manipulation ate away at what I felt for her. In the end, I'm not sure I felt anything for her. There was just apathy and a wish for it all to end."
Sam nodded. "I'm not surprised you feel that way."
"I know." His smile returned. "And the lovely thing is that even if you didn't have my memories in your head you'd feel the same way and you'd say so." He squeezed her hand again. "I've told you that I don't know what we are to each other. I haven't the least clue what's happened or where we're headed. But I want to find out, Samantha."
He drew a deep breath that felt as though it cleared the oppressive atmosphere in the car for both of them.
"I'm tired of measuring each word my lover says to me to see what hidden meaning it might have. I'm tired of never knowing what's going on in my lover's head." He was forced to take his hand from hers as he turned into the hotel drive. "So share your thoughts with me, Sam. Share your body and your emotions. Share your dreams. Talk to me about nothing. Talk to me about anything. Continue to give me a reason to believe that this second chance I've been given can work out." He drew her hand to his lips and nicked her finger so she could feel his thoughts and emotions. "Give me whatever you can. I don't care if it's from your mind or your heart, because I know that unlike Falcon, whatever you say, important or trivial, will at least be honest."
"Falcon!"
Samantha shivered as Cole identified the tall blonde waiting in their hotel suite aloud. Though Sam had formed a mental picture of the woman from what she'd read in The Vampire Encounters, when she gained Cole's memories, she discovered it didn't match reality. Just as Cole wasn't quite as she'd envisioned him, neither was Falcon. It was one of the facets of this new world that left Samantha confused. If this was a hallucination, why didn't Cole or Falcon look like the image Sam had built in her imagination?
Wynn Matthew's daughter was much prettier and far more delicate than Sam had visualized. Falcon's pale blond hair, long and silky, was perfectly styled in a way Sam had never been able to able to achieve with her more mundane brown locks. Thick flaxen glory framed a heart-shaped face of appalling beauty. Falcon was a fairy princess with sky-blue eyes tilted perfectly at the corners, shining dulcetly beneath delicately arched brows. Her generous mouth was all smiles and perfect teeth.
Sam could only stare at her in shock. No wonder Cole had fallen so easily for her and stayed in love long after Falcon's perfidy came to light. If Cole was the most perfect male Sam had ever seen, Falcon was the most flawless woman.
Falcon's straight little turned-up nose tilted a bit higher as she noticed Sam.
"I didn't realize you were busy, Cole," Falcon said her voice melodic and low. Her petal-pink lips tightened a bit in distaste. "Hello."
"I didn't know you were back, or I'd never have gone out," Cole didn't seem to notice the subtle signals that said Falcon thought very little of Sam's worth.
His voice was full of welcome, but he gave Sam's fingers a quick squeeze before he released her hand and kissed Falcon gently on the cheek. Sam couldn't help the feeling of relief that flowed and filled the corners of her heart. He'd noticed, but was pretending. Sam didn't need to be linked to him to figure that much out. But the smile he gave Falcon turned Sam's stomach.
"You look wonderful," he purred.
Privately, Sam thought Falcon would look much better with a black eye and a broken arm. She'd gladly provide both if not for the sight of Falcon's ever-present bodyguards. From the books, Sam knew these men were more akin to mafia wise-guys than legitimate protective services agents. They answered to Falcon and Falcon alone and didn't hesitate to hurt anyone she named. At her orders they killed, and made sure the blood didn't splash Falcon's designer gowns while they did it.
Sam was suddenly very relieved Cole was a neat freak. All her belongings were neatly tucked away and invisible. Unless Falcon had rifled through the closets and drawers, there was no way of knowing Cole had a live-in guest.
Unbeknownst to Cole, Falcon once ordered the death of a young socialite she feared was as a rival for his affections. The blonde might not love Cole, but she didn't want to share him, either. Facing Gilbert with a baseball bat was one thing, facing hired hit men was something else entirely. Sam hoped Cole had a plan, because her mind was coming up empty. She needn't have worried.
"This is Ms. Westlake," Cole said with a nod toward Samantha. "We bumped into each other at a cocktail party earlier this evening. She dabbles in real estate and we were talking about a property at the beach," he lied glibly. The soft smile on his face made Sam's stomach roil, but the look of entreaty he secretly flashed her kept the tongue still. She'd follow his lead however much it repulsed her to see him all warm and loving with Falcon. Playacting beat being dead any day.
"I thought you might like something near the water," he added.
"Very much," Falcon said pleasantly, smiling at Sam. The smile didn't carry all the way to her icy blue eyes, and Sam's answering smile was just as fake.
"But now that you're home that can all wait," Cole continued. "Let me call a cab for Ms. Westlake. We can discuss the house later. I know you love presents, but I want to welcome you home properly." He turned his back on Falcon, his broad shoulders hiding Sam from the other woman's view. "I'm sure you understand, my dear," he said and though his words were aimed at Falcon, they were meant for Sam.
Cole raised Sam's hand to his lips in a courtly gesture. He often kissed women's hands in Old World elegance and courtesy. Now, using the gallantry as an excuse and his body as a shield, he nipped one of Sam's fingers surreptitiously. As soon as the blood linked them, his desperate instructions rang in her head. Hoping that none of what she felt was showing on her face, Sam did exactly as he wished while trying to send him her own comfort and assurance. Their link lingered when he dropped her hand and turned back to Falcon with a bright smile and soft eyes.
I can fight them, but you could easily be hurt. You have to leave. Immediately. I'll follow as soon as I can.
Fear for her tinted the edges of his thoughts black and though his looks were all for the blonde, his thoughts were all for Sam. Even after he'd released her hand and she was hurrying down the corridor, he was with her. It was only after the doorman had handed her into a cab and she was a mile from the hotel that their mental link withered.
As Cole's emotions and thoughts faded, Sam clutched the folds of her skirt so tightly the bugle beads hurt her palms. But as Cole ordered, she took the cab to a hotel he'd named and slipped out the back to the hotel next door where she took a different cab.
His words chased each other around and around in her head.
Falcon may have you followed. Be careful. Please, God, be careful! Go to the pier in Modesto. There's a restaurant near the end of the boardwalk. Go there and wait for me.
More than his words, it was his emotions that were intensely troubling and made her chest hurt. The cab was stuffy with the intensity of Cole's emotions. Sam found breathing increasingly difficult. His feelings invaded her body and wouldn't be dislodged. She couldn't shake it off no matter how hard she tried; the last impression she'd received had been unremitting fear for them both.
Sam was getting rather pissed. She was tired of the quick surreptitious glances and curious stares of passing onlookers. She didn't care how it looked for a lady in a fine evening gown to stand about waiting on the Modesto boardwalk. It was no excuse for rudeness. She might be from Hicksville, Texas but her manners were better than that.
The third person who asked if she needed any help with a condescending note to their question received the death glare in such intensity that no one else dared approach her.
She didn't want their help. She didn't want their anything. She wanted Cole.
She was too worried to do much but pace beside the rail of the patio of the restaurant Cole had directed her to and softly curse Falcon Matthews with every profanity she'd ever learned while helping her dad on the rigs.
She had already worked her way through all the English ones and was now well into Spanish. A particularly inventive one she'd picked up from an old gape-toothed roust-about by the name of Jorge Rodriguez had a busboy at the restaurant looking at her with profound respect. It was from the more Mayan section of the language, and was obviously not something he expected a gringo male to know. Hearing it issuing from a white female had him staring with round-eyed wonder.
Sam ignored the busboy and looked out at the Pacific. She muttered another curse. She shouldn't have left Cole alone. She should have stayed with him. It didn't matter that he'd mentally begged her to leave. She shouldn't have listened. She regretted leaving Cole alone with Falcon more with each passing second. She knew he was afraid Falcon would hurt Sam, but his fear shouldn't enter into it; it was her own emotions and will that should have dictated her actions. Sam didn't care if Falcon was some big, bad, nasty villain. She sighed. That was a lie. Actually she did care. The blonde was every bit as deadly as Cole feared and he was alone with her and her hit men. Sam wanted him out of that hotel room every bit as much as she wanted to be gone from Falcon's danger herself.
Sam couldn't help remembering Falcon as both a human and a vampire. It was true she'd been vicious and homicidal once she'd been changed but she'd been just as bad when she was a normal human. Sam could understand why Cole was afraid of what Falcon could do. She could even understand why he thought Sam wasn't a match for Falcon and wanted her to run. Cole was used to dealing with romance-novel types, and Marie Desiree invariably wrote sweet, soft, rather helpless heroines. Falcon ripped them apart easily, but not a one of them was anything like Sam and it was time Cole realized that. She might be afraid but she wasn't helpless. He should have let her stay to share whatever came. If he was hurt or killed, Sam had no inkling of how she'd handle it.
Besides, Falcon was only a human right now and if Cole could take care of the bodyguards, Sam was pretty sure she could kick Falcon's perfectly toned ass without too much effort. Falcon hadn't grown up rough and ready on the oil fields of the Permian Basin like Sam had. Sam had fought and scrapped for just about everything she owned and she had used her fists more than once in her life. She was more than prepared to snatch that piece of jumped-up trash bald and stomp her blonde ass right into the ground. Maybe that made Sam a redneck girl but it also meant that she didn't stand by and let the people she cared about get hurt. If Falcon hurt Cole, Sam would find a way to kill her.
Courage, or at least a semblance of it, reestablished, she was about to say 'screw it' and head back to the hotel to rescue him when she felt an electric buzz in the back of her mind. She turned instinctively in the direction she knew Cole would appear. His tall form was easy to spot as he hurried through the other pedestrians. Rushing up to her, he grabbed Sam, lifting her off her feet as he hugged her tightly. There were smiles on the faces of several of the restaurant patrons when he set her back on the sidewalk. The expressions of tolerant amusement on their faces made it clear her impatience was now understandable. The women's expressions were particularly empathetic. They'd be impatient, too, if they were waiting for a man that looked like that.
"Thank God, you're all right!" Cole said as he held Sam close to his chest.
She returned the sentiment but then thumped him lightly on the sternum. "So do you want to tell me what's going on? What happened? You were freaking out when I left and you still are."
He took her hand and led her into the restaurant. Only when they were seated and Cole was assured that Sam was all right did he finally explain what was going on. "You were in grave danger back at the hotel. I knew I had to get you out of there as quickly as I could. I can't have you near Falcon. If she suspects we're lovers, she'll kill you or have one of her men do it." He took a deep breath. "She won't accept that I could be attracted to any other woman. Thank God she's not a vampire yet. If she'd smelled or sensed that we'd been together, I doubt you'd have left alive."
"I wouldn't make bets on that," Sam said crossly. She knew he was probably right, but she didn't like admitting it. "I know you're worried about me, but you don't need to be. I've taken care of myself for a long time now and I'm not as easy to walk on as you or Falcon think." That sounded more the way she wanted him to see her. It didn't matter that it was nine-tenths pure Texas bullshit.
Cole shook his head. "She's utterly vicious and completely immoral."
Sam sighed. She knew he was right. They were both far too upset for any sort of rational discussion right now, and she certainly didn't feel like arguing with him. They needed time to calm down before they got any deeper into Falcon's threat.
"Well, we both made it out." She ran a hand over his cheek. "So what now, Cole?" she asked.
She knew what she would do if she was alone, but she wasn't sure what he had planned---or if he even had a plan. So far they'd been flying by the seat of Cole's perfectly tailored tuxedo pants. She didn't exactly approve of that. Sam liked to be organized and she liked to be in control, two things that she hadn't really experienced in over three days. It was starting to eat at her nerves.
"We don't go back to the hotel, for one," Cole answered decisively. "I told Falcon I wanted to take her out to celebrate her return to me. I convinced her to change into something more formal." He paused while the waiter set their drinks on the table. When the man moved away, Cole continued, "Luckily, I'm far enough back in time that she hasn't moved in with me yet. She had to go back to her suite to change clothes. As soon as she was gone, I grabbed what I could and left. I've hidden the Maybach; it's too easy a car to spot. I have a rental."
He ran his hand through his hair, disordering the locks. A few strands fell across his brow. If anything, he looked better than he had before he mussed them. Cole's perfection was a constant source of amazement for Sam. He wasn't thinking of how he looked at the moment though. He was still very concerned about his former lover. "I think I have everything we bought you, so she won't have any clue you've been living with me. I'd rather she didn't know you exist at all but keeping our liaison secret is the next best thing."
Sam frowned and fiddled with her highball glass. "So you want me to go into hiding? Is that what you're saying?"
"Well, I was hoping you'd wouldn't mind staying with me even if it is in hiding." There was open appeal on his face.
"With you? So you're hiding, too?" She took a deep breath and asked the question she hoped would end some of her confusion. "Why are you hiding?"
"Don't you already know?" he countered. "Do you seriously think I'd send you away while I remained to play out some sham with Falcon?" He took a long sip of his scotch. "I'm not going back to her," Cole said firmly. "I can't. I can't go through that again. Of all the things I have a chance to live over that is the one part of my life that I won't." He tossed off what was left of his drink and held out his hand. "Will you walk with me?"
As they walked south along the beach, Sam stared out at what she could see of the ocean. The darkness reduced it to little more than gentle whitecaps on dark water. Dirty lace on black satin, the waves rolled with a slushy swoosh onto the dark beige of the beach. The autumn sun had set long ago but its warmth lingered in the sand. It felt pleasant under her bare feet as she and Cole walked hand in hand above the high water line.
"So what do you think of your first view of the Pacific?" he asked as he swung her strappy little high heels from one crooked finger. His shoes were tucked under his arm, his socks neatly stored inside. His bare feet and ankles showed where the pants of his tuxedo were turned up several times. Sam had given up being surprised that even his feet and ankles were cute.
"It's...not what I expected," she answered. It seemed he wasn't ready to talk more about Falcon just yet. She could go with that flow for a while. She figured he would get to it when he was ready. If he took too long, then she'd give him a little push. But for now, he could set his own pace. "I thought it would be more like Cancun or Florida. This looks more like South Padre." She thought for a bit. "In fact, South Padre looks better."
He smiled crookedly. "Most people are disappointed with their first view of California beaches though this stretch is very nice. It doesn't look the way it does in the movies or on television. The sand isn't as white as they thought it would be or the water isn't as blue." He stared out at the night-darkened waves. "Of course you need to see it during the day to judge that accurately."
His grin grew, and there was a twist of self-deprecation to it. "Though being a vampire, I generally avoid it in the daylight. You know I'm not the sort of vampire to go poof like they do in the movies, but all that sun is uncomfortable and I can't say I enjoy it."
Sam laughed a bit. It was okay if he wanted to make jokes. Cole wasn't noted for being big on discussions of his personal feelings. In fact, she'd been surprised at how open he'd been with her since they'd met. She supposed their unusual connection made it easier for him. Right now, he was having a hard time, and so she was willing to let him work himself up to it.
"That's a shame. It looks like it would be a fun place to swim." She grinned. "I wouldn't mind taking a swim with you. I bet you're cute in a bathing suit." She could talk nonsense just as well as he could.
White teeth glowed brighter than the lights of the hotels on the bluff above them as he smiled at her. The golden halogen lamps lining the walk bordering the broad stretch of sand lent his pale skin a false tan. "I'm cute with or without a swimsuit," he assured her. He leered down at the expanse of bosom exposed by her low cut gown. "And I don't need daylight to swim with you."
"Cole Grayson!" His wish was so strong she got a flash of his thought. "Get that idea out of your head! I am not going skinny dipping with you on Muscle Beach!" She glared at him in mock warning hoping he'd smile. "There are people all around here!"
"True, that wasn't one of my better ideas," he said apologetically. He took the time to survey her from head to toe and back again. "All that beauty of yours would be devastating to the onlookers," he said with a raised eyebrow. "Several would doubtless be overcome completely. They'd probably have to call in paramedics."
She shook her head at his overblown compliment and humorously exaggerated ribald expression. "You're crazy." She hugged his arm a bit tighter. He seemed to welcome the contact. His bout of nonsense exhausted, he fell silent.
The waves made soft sounds, filling the air with the scent of sea and salt, as they walked further and further from the boardwalk.
They had turned and headed back toward the pier before Sam finally spoke again. "So are you going to tell me why we're in Santa Monica?" She figured Cole had taken all the time to think he should. He needed to go ahead and talk now. She wasn't going to let him bury whatever was going on in his head. He had too big a habit of submerging the sort of things that ate at his soul. In the end, so much of him had been eaten away that he'd welcomed the fire that consumed what was left.
"Why are we here and not somewhere else? We could go anywhere in the world. If I'm remembering correctly, you have a plane and know how to fly it. So why Santa Monica instead of New York or Chicago?" She tilted her head. "Or Hong Kong as far as that goes!" If Cole wanted to hide from Falcon, they could have taken his fancy car and been halfway to San Francisco or Las Vegas by now, preparing to head out for anywhere in the world.
"You know why." His voice had gone flat and all amusement had fled from it.
A quick search of his memories showed that he liked this stretch of beach with its laidback atmosphere and its everyone-is-welcome attitude. But there was more than that. He was doing more than just hiding her from Falcon.
She frowned up at him. "I don't know all of it. I know how you feel about this place, but I don't know your reasoning. I'm not completely inside your head right now."
He was quiet for a bit longer, staring at the sand as they walked along. He finally looked up at the lights of the city above the beach. "There's a little hotel up there." He pointed up the steep hill just beyond the strip of businesses that bordered the beach. "It's old and cramped and the floors squeak. And over the years I've often wished I was staying there instead of the Regent Beverly Wiltshire."
She tilted her head and waited for him to continue.
"It's a lovely place. There are flowers everywhere," he said softly and there was a wistful character to his voice. "Bougainvillea climb all over the balconies and there are birds-of-paradise blooming beside the walks. The other guests stop and talk to you. There's no room service. You have to go down to the office to get coffee if you don't want to make your own, but the staff will ask you to stay and chat if you do."
"So why weren't you there instead of where you were?" she asked. "It sounds real nice."
"I honestly don't know. It's where I want to be."
"Well, we could always check in, you know," she said pragmatically. Honestly! That whole romance-novel-hero mentality could make a man do the stupidest things.
"You wouldn't mind?" he said in surprise. He pulled her hand up to his lips and then turned her to face him. "As I said, there's no room service and the baths aren't marble. But you can watch the sun set over the ocean and the breeze smells like salt in the mornings."
Hope was plain on his face. She could see it even in the dimness. "I wouldn't mind. It sounds wonderful."
"Oh, it is. I love it. I used to stay there all the time. Before."
She didn't have to ask him before what. She knew he meant before he met Falcon just as she knew exactly the hotel he meant. Thanks to their shared memories she could find it as easily as he could. A black metal gate guarded a steep staircase and led up to a series of old buildings decorated with surfboards and ambiance.
"Do you want to talk about why you don't stay there any more?" she asked, though she knew the reason. He might claim he didn't know but he was well aware of the turn his life had taken when he'd agreed to tie himself to Falcon. She wasn't sure he could admit it aloud, though. It was hard for a man like Cole to confess he'd been duped by someone he'd given his heart to.
He was stronger than Sam had given him credit for and more honest. He didn't bother to pretend confusion or ignorance about the situation. He simply kissed Sam's hand again and nodded. "I know I don't have to tell you, but yes, I think I would like to talk." He drew a deep breath. "It's one thing for me to know that I have had no life experience that you don't know about. It's different to willingly discuss something when I'm not entirely sure what your reaction will be."
He began to walk slowly along the warm sand, her shoes swinging from one hand while he held her other tightly. She squeezed his fingers slightly in encouragement and remained quiet.
"I like that about you," he finally said. "You can chatter on about nothing to my endless amusement but when I need you to be quiet, you are. How do you know which I need?"
She shrugged. "I don't know; I just do. My daddy was like that. I inherited it, I guess." They walked in silence, the small sound of their steps overpowered by the surge and retreat of the waves. She reevaluated her earlier decision. "You don't have to talk if you don't want to."
"I know that," he answered. "That's another extraordinary trait you have. But I do want to talk about this."
He took a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling slowly before he began. "You know I have money. A great deal of money." He shrugged. "It's easy enough to accumulate when you are as old as I am. A stock purchase here, some land bought there, it adds up over the decades." He shrugged again. "It's nice to have but the wealth doesn't really matter that much to me. I enjoy being able to do as I please but I don't feel the need to advertise my status or wealth. I never really have done."
Sam nodded. She knew that for him the money was just a tool, something to be used to achieve his goal or need and not an end in itself. He'd grown up in rather privileged circumstances and didn't feel the compulsion to 'better himself' that someone from a less advantageous background might. He wasn't greedy or avaricious. And he didn't feel the need to show off his wealth though he liked top quality clothes and fancy cars for the comfort and fun they provided.
She knew all that and said as much.
He agreed. "I enjoy my comforts. I've never claimed otherwise. I have my hedonistic moments and I freely admit I'm more than a bit of a sensualist. Good clothing, yes; I admit I like to look good. I've never minded admiring glances from the ladies. And I like fine dining and excellent service. But I also like hamburgers and street fairs. I'm not insulted if a stranger speaks to me on the street to ask directions."
He looked out over the black ocean. "Falcon doesn't feel that way. She insists that as vampires we're supposed to be above the rest of the world. She believes that I need to stay at places like the Regent Beverly Wiltshire, not for the comfort it offers but for the status attached to it. She is the daughter of the vampire who rules the Pacific coast. She has a certain rank and position that need to be maintained. My fondness for declining Art Deco hostels and midnight strolls along public beaches doesn't appeal to her. So to make her happy, I settled into Beverly Hills instead of Santa Monica and lived the life of a prince rather than a bohemian." Sadness, longing, and confusion tinted his voice, deepening it. "And I don't really know how it happened."
They were nearing the boardwalk and he lifted Samantha onto a wall. Dusting the sand from her feet, he placed her shoes back on, taking his time buckling the various rhinestone straps and green ribbons that secured them to her feet. He set her on the ramp leading up to the boardwalk before he put on his own shoes and unrolled his pants' legs. He didn't speak again until they had passed the enclosed Victorian carousel.
Surrounded by the lights and amusements of the boardwalk, he took her hand again. "I'm not sure how I allowed her take over my life that way."
This time it was Sam who shrugged. "You loved her."
Cole agreed. "Yes. I did. But I'm afraid I was so desperate for her affection that I subjugated myself to her completely. I gave up everything I wanted in hopes of assuring her happiness." He rested on the boardwalk rail, leaning into the gentle ocean breeze.
Sam wrapped herself around his left arm. "That's not how it's supposed to be. Lovers are supposed to care about each other more or less equally. She took advantage of you, Cole. She used your love and your generous nature for her own ends. She just took; she never gave anything back."
Cole looked beyond her out to sea. "She never loved me."
Sam didn't need to be linked to him to know how deeply that admission hurt. But she couldn't contradict him, not when it was the truth. "No, she didn't," she whispered in soft, sorrowful agreement.
He didn't respond right away. He gripped the rail and looked out at nothing. The wood under his fingers slowly splintered as he squeezed it. It hurt Sam to watch his pain. A muscle in his jaw jumped. "She never gave a damn about me," he hissed through tightly clenched teeth.
Sam opened her mouth but nothing came out. How did you comfort someone who'd found their love was an empty sham and they'd been used over and over again? Helplessness wrapped her in cords that made her face burn and her chest hurt. So much for her oath that she could make him happy if he was a real person. She couldn't even find a word of solace to give him. She was useless.
She looked down where her arms were wrapped around his and wondered why she was even in his world. There wasn't anything she could offer him. Her eyes stung and the back of her throat felt thick with tears for him. Swallowing didn't ease the tightness or stop the bitter liquid that flooded her mouth. She bit her lip as her tears overflowed. It was ridiculous; he was the one in pain and she was the one crying. How the hell was that going to help anything?
Fingers that had the strength to splinter seasoned wood curled under her chin, tenderly lifting her face. A gentle thumb brushed across the fragile skin beneath her eye, spreading the moisture of her tears across her cheek. "For me," he whispered. "These are for me." He disentangled his arm from her hold. "And it isn't the first time you've cried for me."
Her cheeks felt so hot she was certain they glowed in the dark. She turned her head away but he gently urged her to look at him. "Don't be ashamed. It's beautiful." His thumbs drew tiny circles on her hot skin. "I doubt if anyone has cried for me since my mother died." His lavender eyes were dark with sorrow. "Falcon never did. She cried to manipulate me or to fool me into believing she needed me." The tiniest glow of anger appeared amid the sorrow. "But she never shed a single tear for anything I might be feeling."
He looked down at her in silence for a long moment. Then his lips curled slightly and some of the pain eased from his eyes. "Can you have any doubts now why I want to explore whatever this connection is between us? In over a century and a half no one has cared enough about me to shed a single tear. At least, not until I met you. I matter to you, Samantha Bailey, and that's why you matter so very much to me."
He glanced back toward the shore and the little hotel he was so enamored with. "Yes. It's time I felt that again. So, will you let me show how I'd actually like to live my life? Will you share that with me for a little while?"
Her throat still clogged with tears and her cheeks flaming red, she couldn't speak but she nodded confidently. She'd live the fantasy a bit longer. If it helped him, she'd be happy to commit herself to insanity for a little while more.
The Hotel California was everything Cole remembered. Sam fell in love with the place instantly. The Regent Beverly Wiltshire had been beautiful, luxurious and, once the excitement of it had worn off, completely intimidating. Sam lived in fear of breaking something in its opulent confines. She was sure the vases full of flowers alone cost more than the rent on her apartment back in Odessa. She tiptoed through the rooms, wondering how much the sheet they'd torn with overly enthusiastic lovemaking had cost Cole. She was afraid to touch anything. She had no such fears in their new rooms and her lingering sense of anxiety vanished in their quaint homeliness.
A cluster of two and three-story stucco buildings dating from the twenties, the Hotel California resembled a set of picturesque apartments far more than a hotel. Inside felt as much a home as the outside suggested it would. The pale paint on the walls was thick from decades of additions, layer piling up on layer. The doors were solid wood, substantial and varnished to a bright shine like the hardwood floors. Casement windows opened outward, inviting Sam to lean out and call down to her new neighbors. The morning sun that shown in cheerfully on the daybed and couch in the living room was easily blocked by slatted wooden blinds, assuring Cole's comfort. The small kitchen was divided from the living area by an open arch and a narrow bar just right for holding meals for two. A tiny kitchenette set gave more room for eating or just sitting and talking.
The cabinets were stocked with heavy white stoneware dishes and steel cookware for the little four-burner stove. A tiny stereo system that could be heard throughout the whole suite rested on the open shelf just to the right of the white porcelain sink. Across the narrow hall, the bathroom was old-fashioned, sporting none of the extravagant amenities of the Regent Beverly Wiltshire. The antique tub had a shower, though, was big enough for both of them and Cole's toothbrush fit nicely beside hers in the old sea-green porcelain holder mounted on the wall.
The bedroom would have fit in the bath at the Regent Beverly Wiltshire, but was much more pleasing to the couple. From the king-sized bed that nearly filled the narrow room, Sam could watch little birds playing in the bright bougainvillea that covered the walls of the suite across the courtyard and climbed across the rails of her balcony. Cole could dream the sunny mornings away, safe from the unpleasant rays of the sun while voices from the other inhabitants floated up as they went about their lives, unconcerned about the vampire or his otherworldly mistress that lived in their midst.
Cole slid a large suitcase across the floor of the bedroom. He'd brought it and an identical companion up when they'd checked in but aside from grabbing some clothes for the day, they hadn't bothered to unpack yet. The two cases contained everything he'd managed to sneak out of their fancy hotel when he'd left Falcon. He'd gathered anything that marked Sam's residency at the Regent Beverly Wiltshire and taken it away with him. He'd even been so thorough as to empty the trash into a single bag and take it with him. He'd left most of his belongings as a consequence but didn't seem worried or regretful.
"She can't conceive of someone like me wanting to be somewhere like this." He sipped the cup of coffee Sam had made as the setting sun painted gilded light on the walls of the apartment across the way, turning the pink bougainvillea to flame.
"She never understood me. She never even tried." The peculiar sorrow that often encased him returned. It sat heavily on his shoulders for several minutes before he shook it off.
He picked up a briefcase and dropped it on the bed. He popped the locks as he confided, "While I like the Bohemian lifestyle, I don't particularly enjoy working for a living. So...." He pulled a stack of cash from the case and popped it into Sam's unresisting hands. "I made sure we wouldn't have to worry about that." He opened a suitcase and explored its contents. As he dug about in Sam's new collection of shoes, he directed her to stash the money he'd given her somewhere she could access easily. He pulled a little white satin bag from inside a shoe and dumped the very expensive shoe ornaments inside onto the bed. "Ah ha! Perfect!" He then pulled a flat leather bag from his briefcase. Sam couldn't quite believe it. He couldn't be doing what she thought he was.
With easy grace, he halved the contents of the leather bag into the satin one.
"Cole?" Sam asked in consternation. The money had been shock enough, but this...!
He dropped the satin bag into her hand. "Keep that with you. Carry it in your pocket or stuffed in your bra. The only time I want you without that is when you're naked with me."
Sam blinked a couple of time. "That's a fortune in diamonds, Cole."
His smiled glittered as brightly as the gems he'd just entrusted into her keeping. "Yes. That's the point. If we get separated for whatever reason, I want you to have enough funds to get somewhere safe. Remember that little city in the Yucatan that I lived in back in the Forties? The house I have there?"
She nodded wordlessly. It was another of his favorite places and, like Hotel California, he returned to it time after time as the decades passed.
"Go there if something happens. Call my lawyer in Meridian. I know you remember the number. He'll ask you for a code phrase. Give him my father's birthday and he'll take care of you."
With a frown, Sam protested, "I remember Enrique Alvarado but I don't remember anything about a code phrase."
He winked at her. "I set it up on my way to join you last night at the pier. Falcon doesn't know about that house or Enrique or the code. It wouldn't have appealed to her. It's too far from the fashionable parts of Mexico. You'll be safe there, should you need a bolthole. If we become separated, I'll join you there as soon as possible and if I can't for whatever reason...." He didn't finish the sentence, and Sam shivered at the implications. "Well, you'll be safe there. Mexico isn't part of Wynn's duchy and overall Falcon hates it. She much prefers Europe or the Caribbean." His eyes sparkled as he chided Sam's reluctance to accept the jewels. "Don't glare at me, my dearest. I feel better knowing I've made provisions for you."
He grinned, breaking the heavy atmosphere. "You aren't the only one in this apartment with a strong streak of pragmatism! I can be every bit as sensible as you." He raised his hand, as she would have protested. "And I can be just as hardheaded! So spare us both and just accept that I have some small rights to assuring your protection." He pulled her close, plucking the diamonds from her hand and tucking them in her pants pocket. "And I need to know I've done what I can to keep you safe. Please let me do this." Entreaty softened the sparkle in his violet eyes.
"Oh, alright," she agreed sullenly though she wasn't really upset with him. He knew that she had to maintain a certain amount of objection for her own sense of worth and simply kissed her before easing her back onto the bed.
With clever fingers and talented lips, Cole expressed his gratitude in his favorite way, seeking out Sam's most sensitive spots to lick, kiss, and knead. She didn't protest when he knocked the briefcase onto the floor spilling cash across the floorboards or when he shredded her T-shirt and bra in his need to get at her skin. He'd bought them after all. His bag of diamonds joined the money on the floor as he hastened to remove her jeans.
Cole ran his hands over her, searching. He liked to run his tongue over the marks time and hard living had put on her body. He was fascinated by her scars. It seemed that in this literature-inspired world of beautiful men and women with perfect bodies, scars were all of the Hollywood sort. They existed just for show and marked a man as a villain. They had no substance behind them.
He ran a hand along the inside of her thigh; he loved the little patch of crumpled skin there, a scar acquired from the hot exhaust pipe of her brother's motorcycle when she was fifteen. He looked at the scar, so close to the crux of her legs, and grinned. He ran his hand over the dark curls above it before he stood again. He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it away before lying down beside her. His body was solid and reassuringly real beneath her as he pulled her atop him so she could lay her head on his chest. His skin was warm and perfect. And he smelled like home.
The fashionably worn denim of his jeans was soft against her legs, the fly rough against her stomach and she could feel his arousal growing against her.
He sighed in pleasure. "I want to make love to you, dearest. I want to stay here and make love to you for days and days. I may never let you out of my arms again." He turned them so they were lying on their sides and draped his long leg across hers and propped his head on one arm. He considered her seriously for a few moments, sliding his other hand over her shoulder, her arm. "You're so beautiful."
She smiled at him and shook her head. He always went on like that. Always telling her how beautiful she was, how wonderful she felt, how good she smelled, how delicious she tasted, how sweet her voice was. It wasn't true, of course, but it didn't matter because he felt that it was. That was how he perceived her.
She wondered what she had done to deserve such a man for even a little while. Now, after four days in her company, when he could start over with a glorious woman like Falcon or any other beauty he wanted, he'd picked her. He wanted to find out if he could love her. She thought her heart would burst.
"Why are you crying, dearest?" he asked, catching one crystalline tear on his forefinger. He brought it to his lips. "It tastes of the sea," he said.
"Cole, I'm afraid." She ran her hand over his perfect face. What if he wasn't real? What if he vanished? She forced the thought away. She had learned to grab what was offered a long time ago and she decided she'd grab this chance.
"I love you so much," she admitted. "I wish there were some way I could explain to you how much I love you." In the depths of the night holding him as he dealt with his feelings for Falcon and swore he would build a new life, she'd admitted to herself that she'd fallen for him as hard as it was possible for her to fall. She loved him and there was no way around it. Real or not, she was in love with the man. There was no running from it and she wasn't the sort to hide. She might as well tell him so. He'd find out the first time he bit her anyway.
He kissed her, rolling her onto her back, bringing his body more completely over hers. "I know, dearest. I know." He kissed the formerly pristine expanse of her neck. It now carried a series of bite marks and bruises. "I do know how very much you love me. It's the most precious gift I've ever been given." He fingered a lock of her hair where it lay on the pillow. "I know that you have trouble believing I'm real. You're afraid I could be snatched away at any moment, but you're still willing to love me."
He smiled at her. "Don't be afraid; I'm not going anywhere. Some divine power thinks we should be together like this. It gave me back my life and brought you to me. I think that proves we need to at least see if we can build something." He kissed her deeply, with a tender passion that grew with each second. He pressed his body against her until she could feel every curve of him. "We fit together so nicely."
Sam wasn't sure if he meant their bodies, or was talking about something more.
"I'm nearly certain that you were built just for me, you fit me so well," he added. "I don't know if I love you as deeply as you love me, Samantha, but I'm sure I'm more than halfway in love with you. Let me find out if I can fall completely in love with you. I promise not to disappear if you'll just risk loving me and let me find if I can return that wonderful thing you feel for me." He kissed her again.
She murmured her assent against his mouth, afraid to say more. It had taken so much courage to admit she was in love. Cole seemed to understand and concentrated on her body, leaving her time to recover her emotions without further conversation.
His hand found its way to her breast, soft and abundant, her nipple already beginning to pebble just from his nearness. He released her lips and stared at the mound in his hand. "Perfect, so perfect," he whispered. "Lush, like peaches, white and ripe. Delicious," he murmured as he lowered his head and wrapped his tongue around the areola.
Her breath caught as he moaned against her skin, as sweet a sound as she'd ever heard. He suckled her, pulling her into his mouth, rolling her nipple between his teeth. He mimicked the motions of his tongue and teeth on her other breast with his fingers. Her hands tangled in his hair, rhythmic motions kneading his scalp. He switched to her other breast, humming. The vibration sank into her very bones, so that even the sounds he made became a part of her.
He began to move down her body, kissing, licking, murmuring, leaving a trail of endearments and love that marked her as surely any of the fang marks he had already left on her body. He moved past her navel, his hands traveling everywhere that his mouth didn't. As he neared the clutch of hair covering her intimate aspects, it was the most natural, the most appropriate action in the world for her legs to open for him, for her to breathe encouragement and appreciation for what he was doing, for her to let him in. She would have no secrets from him. Body and mind, she would always be open to him.
He was right: this was what they were meant for. They had been created for loving each other. No other woman could ever enjoy his touch the way she did. She was blatant in her sheer need for his body, his skills, but more importantly, she was blatant in her need for his tenderness, his words of love, the physical expression of what his heart felt. His need was every bit as great, requiring her love to give him substance. Even now in answer to his requirements, she was whispering love and adoration to him.
His tongue delved between her private lips, licking delicately at the wetness already seeping from her. He explored her core, smiling when she arched upwards, reaching for more of him. He spread his hand across her lower stomach, steadying her, calming her, even as his tongue drove her closer to madness. He sought out her most sensitive spot, nudging and rubbing it with the stiff tip of his tongue before sucking on it, sending her falling into orgasm. As her shudders subsided, he climbed up her body, licking, caressing, until he reached her mouth and could kiss her again. He pulled back to look at her and smile. Her lips parted as she breathed heavily, eyes unfocused, as tremors still shook her. His face was full of desire.
"I want you," he told her. "I want you so much." Longing made his voice hoarse and his Irish accent deeper.
With eyes that were still glazed from the pleasure he had brought her, she tried to interpret the expression on his face. She realized he was asking permission. "Oh, Cole, yes. I want you, too," she told him.
He hesitated still. "With all that's happened, is it fair? Do I have the right to ask what I have of you? I don't want to hurt you. I think I could very well love you, but I...."
She silenced him by pulling him down to her lips. "I'm willing to risk it. Love me, Cole. Just love me," she ordered. She was tired of their constant waffling. Someone had to be decisive and she didn't mind if she was the one to make the choice.
She reached for the buckle of his belt. He let her take the initiative in removing his pants, only separating himself from her long enough to remove his shoes and shuck his jeans onto the floor. He lay beside her, half on her, proof of his desire grinding into her hip as he began to touch her. He kissed her again, deeply, letting her feel all his longing. She responded with a need as great, and he moaned into her mouth.
He slid one long finger inside her, going quiet. His sudden stillness concerned her, and she said his name tentatively. He moved that one finger carefully and watched her face. She moaned slightly when he probed a bit deeper. "I love watching you enjoy what I do," he said. "I love the way you feel around me and the way you feel inside my mind." He nuzzled against her neck. "I want to feel your mind."
Sam curled her arms over his silky dark hair as he licked the spot he wanted so badly. She wanted to feel his mind as much as he wanted to feel hers. "Yes. Bite," she said breathlessly and gasped as needle-sharp teeth sank deeper into her body than they ever had before. Suddenly she was no longer alone. Cole was with her in a way that was impossible to explain. Cole was Sam and Sam was Cole.
The Sam part of them sighed in disappointment when the Cole part pulled away from the spot where he'd been sending jolts of pleasure through her. The tiny bit of blood he took was never enough; she wanted him to drink forever. Still, he insisted it was enough. She now felt everything he was feeling and his thoughts were hers.
Right now, as he looked into her smiling face, he was overcome with a sense of rightness. Laughter and love with her was why he was created, he had decided. This, not the blood and the violence, not the night and the darkness, nor the day and the light; this softness, this rain-gray tinted gentleness was why he had been born, why he had been turned immortal. Everything in his life had led to finding her, had led to this moment.
He latched his mouth onto hers, firmly intending to never release her lips again. His hands moved of their own volition over her, pleasing her, bringing her ever closer to ecstasy. Her moans and cries of bliss slid over his tongue, the food that his heart craved. Only when she was as close as he could bring her to utter bliss did he lower himself onto her, slowly pushing into her.
"Samantha," he rasped, biting his lip in his efforts not to hurt her with his inhuman strength, though he wanted nothing more than to be deep inside her. Sam fed that desire, pushing just as desperately against him, wanting him inside her, wanting to be joined to him. She insisted he stop treating her like she'd never had a man before. His laughter rolled through their connected minds.
He knew that she wasn't a virgin; that she was an experienced woman, well versed in the sexual act. But some part of him, some hidden romantic, felt that he was her first real lover. No man knew her mind and body the way he did. She smiled inside, lighting both their minds. His joy was hers and it pleased him immensely that he was the first man to touch her mind this way. In some subliminal way, this made her even more his. And it made this act even more special, more precious than mere sex. He was determined that each time be as perfect as he could make it.
As gently as he could, he pushed deeper inside her. He felt her moan against him, not in pain, but in pleasure. He pushed again, eliciting another pleased sound from her. He smiled and continued to rock into her until she begged him with word and thought to enter her completely and stop driving her crazy. With one smooth push, he sheathed himself in her.
"Oh, God, Cole. Oh, God." Sam could feel every curve of him. He'd never filled her this way before. He felt so perfect. She melted as he began a slow, steady rhythm, nearly withdrawing from her completely before he pressed back into her, deeper each time. He shifted so that each thrust gave her the most pleasure. She wrapped her legs around his shoulders, his neck, opening herself as much as possible to him. The subtlest movements of his body sent waves of sensation through her. He was all that mattered. Nothing else existed, for either of them. There was only this joining, this becoming one.
He was so close to completion. She could feel his body tightening, coiling, as he felt the first flutters of her release building. But only when he felt her tightness squeezing him, only when she began to cry his name, did he allow himself to let go. Only when he knew she was achieving fulfillment, only then, driving as deeply into her as he could, did he spill himself into her, crying out his need for her.
Cole held her tightly, emotions and thoughts flowing freely between them.
Perhaps Heaven possessed some small measure of mercy; perhaps the universe was not ruled by a cold and unfeeling deity; perhaps there was some degree of justice in the cosmos. In their moment of mutual rapture, as their minds were opened to one another as they had been when Cole tasted Samantha's blood for the first time. They each felt not only the physical joy of their coupling, but experienced the emotions they had for one another. Cole found the love he thought dead inside him. With the greatest of joy he proclaimed his love for her with voice and thought.
As they lay quiet and sated, he kissed her gently and thanked her for giving him this new life and this chance to love again. Lying comfortably in each other's arms, they were each flooded with the love the other felt. His elation was hers and her joy was his. There was no separation between them; they were one life and one soul, a single being. They were one and they knew the surety of the love they had found. They both felt that in all the world, there were no two people who were so lucky or so complete.
The Hotel California was friendly, inviting, and comfortable. By the end of their first week in residence, Sam decided that if she had to live in LaLa Land, this would be the way to do it. Cole's anxieties eased away as his fears that Falcon would pursue them diminished. Without the strain of worry and secure in Samantha's love, his immortal face seemed more youthful and the energy that filled his body was free of tension that knotted his muscles.
Their days were spent sleeping peacefully with the windows open, allowing in the cool ocean breezes. Afternoons were time for love or cuddling on the couch before they ventured out to watch the antics of the population down on Muscle Beach. With the declining sun shining down, Cole would don his dark glasses and they'd walk along Ocean Front Walk until they saw something interesting enough to move them to find a bench and sit for a while. It might be the gymnasts or the body builders on Muscle Beach, or the players in the Chess Park.
Once a group of college types convinced Cole to act as the white knight in a game of chess played on the life-sized board. Sam had laughed until she could barely stand at the dismay on his face at being considered the white knight. In the face of her amusement, he couldn't help but shrug deprecatingly and let her lead him onto the appropriate big square of the board. As he began to enter into the spirit of the game, he forgot to be embarrassed and laughed along with Sam and the other players. Before long, he was leading the silliness and the entire group was howling at his antics. But he'd sobered and kissed Sam as if she were the only woman he'd ever seen when he found she wanted to save the drink straw he had brandished as a sword when he'd defeated the black queen.
Evenings found them on the pier. Cole liked to ride the big Ferris wheel and look over at the lights below or to sit on a carriage seat and go round and round on the antique Victorian carousel. Sam liked both equally well. Sitting comfortably with Cole's arm around her shoulders while he talked about whatever struck his fancy was good enough for her. One night he won a silver ring at one of the carny booths and presented it to her with all the solemnity he could muster. She let him slide it on her finger. He kissed her ring finger and tucked her hand under his arm before carrying her off to the Hotel California to love the rest of the night away. To his everlasting joy, she hadn't taken the ring off since he'd put it there.
As they explored the bits of Modesto that were in walking distance, one week turned into two and then into three. Halcyon and somewhat unreal, the days and nights flowed by without any hindrance or upset to the perfect world they found themselves in.
Sam's smile grew as she shifted her hips against Cole and watched pleasure flit across his handsome face. Over the past month, she had discovered that driving Cole completely to distraction was immensely fulfilling. She had never imagined that possessing Cole, taking the initiative, could feel so good. Watching him building a new life for himself was immensely gratifying. Knowing how hard it was for him to recover from the wounds Falcon had inflicted only increased her admiration for him.
He deserved so much more than life had dealt him so far. Without any other distractions, Sam decided to fulfill the impulsive oath she'd made after reading of his death. As she did back in Odessa, she now swore her existence to seeing that Cole was happy again. Cole had become Sam's reason for being.
Cole knew, of course. Each time they exchanged blood or found themselves deep in the delights of sex, their thoughts became one. She couldn't hide her intentions from him. And upon receiving his burst of elation as he read her thoughts, she couldn't be sorry he knew.
In return, giving Sam pleasure had become Cole's priority. Seeing to her needs and wants now filled his days and nights, just as the reverse had become true for Sam. And over and over Cole insisted Sam was necessary for his recovery. He needed her very real feelings for him. She knew that vampires fed on two things---blood and emotion. He insisted Sam's care for him was enough to sustain that mystical part of him. He needed little more than the bit of blood she gave him and her devotion. He felt no need to hunt the night for blood.
Sam opened her eyes and took in his smiling face. She still couldn't believe he was really there. She'd been his lover for over a month now but there was a still a dreamlike quality to it all. No work-a-day job to hurry off to, no friends and relatives to deal with, no real responsibilities. There was only Sam and Cole. Nothing else really mattered anymore. She felt as though she was on a perpetual vacation.
"Or a honeymoon." Cole kissed her suddenly rosy breast.
She couldn't control the flush that stole across her chest and up to color her face.
"I've often wondered what a honeymoon would feel like," he said solemnly. "I believe you Texans may have the right idea. Simply saying I'm your husband should be sufficient to make it legally so."
There were emotions attached to those words that confused and slightly panicked Sam. They added to the unreality she so often felt. In her dreams, she had wanted this for so long, for someone to love her this way. Sharing the little apartment with Cole, acknowledged as Cole's lover, spending each night in his company and each day in his bed, was all Sam had wished it could be. She was often afraid to go to sleep, fearful that she would awaken to discover it was, in truth, an illusion. And now he was saying he wanted it to stay this way forever.
She shifted forward and kissed him with everything she felt. His smile remained in place when Sam withdrew from his lips and lay back on the pillows. The glow in those purple eyes was worth more than the most expensive whatnot in that palatial hotel she'd first landed in. It was worth more than the whole of the Regent Beverly Wiltshire and everything in it. Its worth was greater than the diamonds she now habitually carried in her pocket.
Cole pulled Sam's hand to his mouth, kissing it gently before releasing it. The pure love that flowed from him was sweeter than anything she had ever felt. She wanted to return that love. And as much as she tried to rationalize it, there was no other word for the emotion that flowed between them. She couldn't deny that what Cole felt for her, and what she felt for him was pure love.
There were still issues for them both. Sam felt that everything around her was a chimera, likely to evaporate at any moment. And she feared that even if there was an aspect of reality to it, Cole merely loved her because she gave him what Falcon never had. She wasn't sure that her support and caring for him was enough to sustain a long-term love affair. She was certain that at some point he would find her too plebian and boring for him. He insisted she was completely wrong.
So they capitulated. Sam agreed to live her illusion for however long it lasted, and Cole promised he'd view her in an utterly realistic light. Right now, their mental link glowed with his emotions. He wanted Sam to know how he felt. He wanted her to feel his love. And he wanted her to love him.
With a smile, she reached down and wrapped her hand around him, her fingers sliding easily over his flesh. Cole sighed in bliss, opening his mind as fully as he could to her. She felt his joy in her actions. It felt good to not have to make all the decisions, to not be the one responsible for everything, to be the one who was cared for, for a change. He surrendered himself to her and gloried in allowing his lover control. It didn't matter that she was lying beneath him; Sam was in complete control of his body at the moment. He shivered at her touch. That one hand, so small and delicate that Cole could crush it with little more than flexing his finger, now ruled his existence. His world had narrowed to the feel of her beneath him and that one hand bringing him such ecstasy. He bit his lip as she continued to manipulate him, making him tremble and pant.
Sam gently guided him further back, positioning and pressing him against her heat, and watched his eye begin to glow and fill with violet fire. She smiled tenderly at her lover and lifted her hips insistently, pressing against him. "Push, Cole," she whispered. "Now. Please." She brought her hand up and caressed his cheek, sending him the love he needed so desperately from her. "Push."
Continued wonder at the miracle of connection that physicality brought them filled Cole's mind and spilled into hers. With that wonder lighting his face, he complied, easing into his beloved Samantha until they were completely joined. He stilled, simply resting, locked in his lover's body, overcome by the feel of her around him.
He'd never been allowed this with Falcon. He was expected to see to her pleasure and though she'd seen that he enjoyed their encounters he saw now that she'd used that as part of her manipulation. Good sex wasn't a decent surrogate for love. Sam kissed him deeply and held him close. He had long ago given up any hope of ever sharing this sort of oneness with anyone. Now they were both besieged by sensation and overwhelmed by emotion. She could only stare up at his beauty as her heart filled her chest to near bursting.
Cole stroked her face with his thumb as he said, "You were right when you told me that what happened to me was wrong, and that it wasn't the way it should be." His smile was as loving as any she had ever seen on his face. "You said if this happened with someone who really cared, if it happened with love, it could be better than anything I'd ever had." He took her hand again and kissed it. Violet-blue eyes inundated her senses and a whisper-soft voice filled her being. "You were right. It is. Make all of my life that way for me, Sam. Never leave me."
Panting with emotions she could barely contain, she kissed his hand before lacing their fingers together. "I'll never go," she promised shakily. "I'm gonna make life so good for you. I'm gonna be better than anyone you ever had."
Sam had never wanted anyone more than she wanted Cole at that moment. He'd given her his heart completely and without reservation. Despite all that had happened to him, he was willing to trust her with his love. She was astounded that he trusted her so much, and she intended to prove to him why she was worthy of that faith.
Cole murmured his assurance that he already knew she was worthy of that, and so much more. Holding tightly to his lover's hands, never looking away from her face, he began to move gently and slowly. He was accounted a stellar lover and he intended to use every skill at his disposal to show his love for her.
Sam was devoted to showing Cole how good loving this way could be. She swore that Cole would have no regrets for the gift of trust and love he was giving her or for whatever time they had together. She would prove to him that there was more to sex than simply two bodies seeking pleasure. She'd show him what real love was.
When the stars themselves exploded for them and they cried out their love for each other, Sam's joy was boundless and she knew she had everything she could ever want.
As another month passed in safety and there was no sign of any of Falcon's henchmen, Cole relaxed more and more---and thought of his former lover less and less. Sam watched joyfully as he built the life he wanted rather than the one fate and Falcon handed him. He bought art supplies and sketched life on the beach, and jotted down his thoughts in little spiral notebooks. Sam teased that he was a poet at heart and should never have tried to be anything else. He countered that all Irishmen were poets, and how could she have thought differently?
One exceptionally sunny afternoon while they were hiding from the bright daylight, he cajoled her into posing for him, laughing when she blushed and reddened. She stoutly declared that naked when she was in bed with him was one thing, but naked just so he could draw pictures was something else completely.
He laughed so hard at the convoluted morals of her statement that he spilled all of his pencils across the floor. They spent an hour searching them out from all the places they had rolled into and under. It wouldn't have take so long, but Cole insisted on stopping after each five minutes of searching for fifteen minutes of kissing and cuddling.
As Cole's life became more and more what he wanted, Sam's life settled into a lazy, bohemian haze such as she'd never experienced before. Surprisingly, she found it as pleasant for her as it was for Cole. She'd never thought she'd like an easy, free-spirited existence. All the years of working and striving just to stay afloat had convinced her she was too driven to appreciate just waltzing through her days doing as she pleased. But under Cole's influence, she discovered that her ambition had been nothing more than a survival instinct. She worked hard because she had to, not because she enjoyed it.
Freed for the first time in her life from concerns about money and bills and taking care of everything that life threw at her on her own, she rediscovered a lost interest in reading and history. While Cole recorded the life around them in drawing pads and notebooks and contemplated writing a novel about it all, Sam found herself immersed in the memoirs of a frontierswoman and rancher from Texas.
At some point, their interests collided and merged. Cole's novel of their California beachfront life turned into an historical account of a cowgirl's life. His remembered details of the time period, breathed life into what could have been a rather dry telling of early feminism. Sam's knowledge and love for Texas gave the central character a verve that leapt from the pages Cole wrote. The tale of a woman forging a new life in a new world became as much the story of Sam and Cole as it was the history of some long-dead pioneer. Cole embodied his heroine with the sensibility and sheer will to live that he saw in Sam, showing through his flowing words how he perceived her.
Sam had never been so happy.
The specter of unreality that had so troubled Sam faded and her old life began to seem the one that had been the dream, not the one she now lived. She and Cole discussed the possibility of contacting Wynn again and this time they agreed there was no reason for it. Neither had the least wish for Sam to return to her world or her old life, though Cole tried to be rational about it at first.
"I'm sure you have a great many reasons to return," he said, staring out the bedroom window while he held her a little too tightly.
Samantha didn't protest that he was squeezing her. It comforted her as she thought of life back in Odessa. There was nothing waiting for her back in Texas. There were a few friends, Lurleen, a little apartment, and some relatives that probably wouldn't even notice she was gone. There was no lover waiting; there had been no boyfriend for a long time now. There'd been no one special since high school really, no one that mattered. Over all, there wasn't much back there. Her life before Cole was empty.
"I don't have any reason to go back. Not a single one that I can think of. I'd rather stay here with you." She drew a long, shuddering breath and let Cole's relief flood her mind.
"Thank God!" He buried his face in her hair. "I know you can hear everything I'm thinking," he said as violet fire swirled through his eyes. "But I want to say this out loud." He pulled back and looked at her seriously. "I have fallen in love with you, Samantha Bailey. I made the right decision when I decided to take you into hiding with me to see if we had a chance as some sort of relationship. If I tried to romance Falcon again, I have no doubt it would end up just as it did before. She would simply manipulate everything to her own ends. She'd only use me and in the end, one, if not both of us, would die."
He didn't need to say that he would be the one to end Falcon's life. Sam knew that saying the words hurt too much.
Instead he shrugged elegantly. "She never really loved me. I was simply a means to extract revenge on her father, and I played the fool admirably."
Sam wanted to console him somehow but she didn't know how. She knew everything he was saying was true. Falcon Matthews had wanted to rule as a vampire queen and when that was denied her, she'd used Cole's infatuation to strike back at Wynn. She blamed her father for denying her transformation into a vampire and the power that went with that transformation. It had warped her thinking until all she could focus on was retribution. Cole's love hadn't mattered to her except as a way to twist him to fall in with her schemes. By the time Cole realized she didn't care about him, that she never had, it was too late and he'd been ostracized by his vampire family and stood awaiting execution. Falcon's lies had ultimately led to his death.
Sam reached out and touched his fingers where they played with a lock of her hair. It was nothing more than the barest brush of her fingertips against his but it brought a smile to his lips. Faster than she could see, his hand shot out and wrapped about hers.
"The stronger, more realistic part of me realizes that whatever I had with Falcon wasn't real," he told her. "That relationship was as fanciful as...." he paused and laughed. "I stated to say as a paperback novel, but considering the current company, that isn't a very accurate simile." He turned serious. "No, anything I might have had with Falcon is over. I don't want to go back to where I was. I don't want to face being alone, living with that sort of hurt." He fell silent, not speaking for long minutes, simply caressing her hand lovingly.
Sam remained silent. What could she possibly say to him? That she understood? He already knew that. That she was sorry life had dealt him so many cruel blows in the last decade? He knew that, too. She simply concentrated on letting him know much she cared. She hoped they were still connected enough from their last bout of lovemaking that he could feel that.
Seeing him as he'd been when they first met, so alone and friendless, hurt more than reading about it had. Then, she had only wanted him to know that there was someone who cared. Now, she had no doubt he knew it was so.
"We need to consider the future," Cole said briskly.
Sam started when he spoke so suddenly. She had been drifting in her own thoughts and hadn't realized he wasn't through with the conversation just yet. Cole settled them so they were side by side on the bed and his lavender eyes were level with her more prosaic hazel ones.
"There's a part of me that desperately wants to stay right here and build something with you in these rooms, but I don't think it would be entirely safe. Though we've seen no sign of Falcon, she's still out there somewhere. If she finds us now, she won't be in a forgiving mood. I left her without a word and it will take little for her to figure out, if she hasn't already, that I took you with me. If she finds either of us, she'll kill us. Much as I love this place and what we have here, I love you more and I won't risk you. I'm leaving. I'm not sure where I'll go. Perhaps I need to just ramble the world for a while. Get my head together. I've been given a chance to start over and I'm going to take it. And you're coming with me."
She smiled. "It sounds like a good plan."
He gave her a tiny wink in return. "Yes. Wynn and the others will probably never even notice I'm gone." He took her hand and wove his fingers with hers. "I realize Odessa, Texas has a great lure, but might I convince you that the original Odessa has a few glories that might interest you?"
She felt her mouth drop open. She hadn't heard him correctly. There was no way he was saying what she thought. She tried to say something, though her brain was refusing to from coherent words. Her mouth wasn't cooperating, either. It just moved but no sound came out. She had expected San Francisco or maybe New York City, but... "Russia? You want to go to Russia?"
He smiled at her, all smooth charm and urbane grace amidst tousled black hair and rumpled pillows. "I'd like to show you the Black Sea." He drew a bit closer so his lavender eyes filled her vision. "I'd like to show you Paris and Moscow. Hong Kong, perhaps? I know you've always wanted to see the Orient. I've been there many times and I make an excellent tour guide." The smile turned into a grin. "Come with me? I need you."
Mutely she nodded. How could he even think he needed to ask? Of course, she'd gladly travel the world as his lover. She might not be a rocket scientist, but wandering the exotic points of the planet with Cole could hardly be compared to monitoring computer systems in the mundane emptiness of west Texas.
"Good," he said joyfully. "Now we'll see if we can figure out the proper way for me to express my gratitude." He drew closer still and reached out to cradle her cheek. His expression turned serious. "I'm never letting you go, my dearest Samantha. You're mine now and no one and nothing can keep me from you."
Panting from emotions beyond his control, Cole sank his teeth into the pale gold of Sam's throat and felt her explode around him. She filled his mind as he filled hers. He was everywhere and everything. They both felt her body arch beneath his, heard her gasp his name, felt her arms come up and enfold him.
Sam pierced the nothingness that he had wrapped himself in with a sword thrust of white light and warmth such as he'd never experienced. He blazed through her mind and body, a raging wildfire of need, longing, and purest love. She lit the darkest corners of his psyche and thawed the ice that surrounded his heart. Wherever either touched, the cold and gloom fled until there was no longer any place within them that did not feel warmth and vitality.
He was truly alive. She was aware of his body within hers, his arms about her, his fangs in her throat, her blood in his mouth. He was solid and real and more precious than thought or word could describe. She whispered his name, needing to hear the sound of it. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer, holding him safe against her body. He would never let her go.
And for the first time in her life, Sam knew perfect bliss. This was beyond anything she had ever experienced. Their bond, remade each time they touched or exchanged blood, was deeper and stronger than before. They could feel each other, body and soul. His fears were eased; she loved him with an intensity unimaginable. He drank in that love as hungrily as he drank in her blood. The thirst he'd felt for true affection was finally quenched. The hunger that ate at his soul was satisfied.
Sam thought nothing could be better than the feel of Cole's body inside hers until she felt his fangs sink deep into her flesh, marking her, claiming her. Sam flowed quicksilver through his mind, love unconditional and as vast as the wide Texas skies inundated him with peace and acceptance, a benediction and blessing. There could no longer be any doubts or suspicions between them. There were no longer any secrets. There was only love.
Sam felt herself drowning in him, anchored only by his will. She dropped into that ocean of emotion and allowed him to flow and wind around and through her. Over and around her, Cole was awash with need and desire. He was a raging river that consumed her and remade her into the perfect vision he carried of her in his heart. He perfected her, as she completed him. In his thoughts and in his heart, she was flawless.
Sam had never realized that a woman could be worshiped by a man who loved her even as he was aware of her virtues and flaws equally. She had always thought she would be somehow accounted lesser in his mind than the imaginary but perfect and accomplished women he'd been with before she had appeared in his life.
She knew now that wasn't true. Cole loved her as deeply as he had ever loved Falcon. The love he felt for her was different, but even more intense. It was free of concerns or worry. This was true for each of them. Individually they loved each other in very different ways but the depth and breadth of that love were boundless. Now tied to each other, they became a single force with all suspicions and doubts wiped away. There were no longer any hidden pain or guilt. They had been replaced with openness, forgiveness, and truth. This was completion; this was what their lives were supposed to be. This was how they were always meant to be. Alone, each was fragmented; together, they were complete.
Cole handed Sam a cup of coffee before rejoining her in the bed. He settled comfortably in the pillows before laying her against his chest. He played with her hair for several minutes while she watched silently and combed his chest hairs with her fingers. "So what now?" she finally asked.
He grinned. "Now we decide where we want to go and we pack." He ran a hand through her hair again. "I feel we're safe from Falcon for the time being. She won't think of looking for me in Modesto," he assured Sam. "But there is always the chance that someone will see me and report that to her. I'd like to leave as soon as we can."
She chuckled and rubbed her head against him. "When?"
"Tomorrow. I'd like to be gone before the sun sets."
She half sat up and nodded. "That shouldn't be a problem." They had little enough. Their clothes, Cole's art supplies, a pair of laptops---it wouldn't even fill the trunk of the rental car. "Where do you want to go?"
"So I'm supposed to make all the decisions?" he said with mock severity.
"I'm trying to learn to let someone else have control," she countered. "I tend to take over, remember. Besides, I'm tired of always being the one in charge. I thought I'd let you have the reins for a while."
She turned a bit to look at him. It felt good to say it, to stop letting it go round and round in her head and to just say it. It had been bouncing through her mind for a while now. And though Cole already knew it, sometimes it helped to say things out loud. "I think I've finally realized I don't have to be responsible for everything. I don't have to be the one to fix everything." She took a deep breath and laid her head back on his chest. "I'm tired of trying to keep everything all sorted out and be what the world thinks I'm supposed to be. I can't fix anything anyway."
Cole frowned. "Hey, look at me and understand this. When I met you I was miserable because I was living for someone else, doing what I thought they wanted me to." He tilted her chin a bit with one finger and stared into her eyes until she nodded. "What you've just said frightens me more than anything I've heard in a long time. I know exactly what you're talking about. I know how that sort of pressure can devour a person; it gnawed at my soul for years. I also know how easily it can destroy someone." He ran his hand over her face. "The one thing, the greatest thing you taught me is to be myself. To live for me. Not for anyone else. Don't you dare believe it's any different for you."
Slowly, a smile began to spread across her face. "Cole...."
"I mean it," he snarled, though the fingers that trailed across her cheek were gentle and soothing. "Don't you dare. I love you. Not some illusion of you. And I feel that way because you are simply you, without pretense." He fingered the silver ring she wore. "Never doubt it and never doubt yourself."
Regardless of what he'd said about leaving as soon as they could, packing to leave would have to wait. Cole decided that he hadn't loved Sam nearly enough to let her out of their bed.
Her protests had been weak-willed and easily overridden. At the moment, packing was the farthest thing from Samantha's mind. What Cole was doing felt so good, Sam thought she might just pass out. She had never imagined a man could do even half the things to a woman's body that he had already done. From the moment he'd kissed her after asking her to leave with him, she knew she'd made the right decision. His lips were soft, a bit warm, and tasted of the coffee she'd made him. He'd known exactly when to deepen the kiss, when to ease his questing tongue into her mouth, just how much she wanted and needed. His hands had been comforting, gentle, and arousing all at the same time. Not even for an instant had she felt threatened or pressured.
Even with the phantom menace of Falcon lurking about the edges of her consciousness, lying in his big bed, in a set of rooms that seemed impossibly simple for someone like him, she felt safe.
She also felt breathless, and as though she might crawl out of her own skin if he kept licking her like that. She reached down, running her hands through his silky hair, and tried to think of something to say besides "Oh, my God." Nothing came to her at all. And with Cole's face buried between her legs, she doubted if anything would. When his fingers joined that talented tongue, she stopped trying to think at all and simply surrendered to riding wave after wave of shattering orgasm.
Three hours later she decided that if it was possible to die from too much sexual bliss, she might very well be the first recorded victim. An hour after that, she decided she didn't care; it had been worth dying for. An hour after that, she was blissfully unconscious, asleep in Cole's arms, reliving a night of perfect passion in her dreams.
"Cole! Hurry up or we won't get out of here tonight," Sam called out. She slid her laptop into the carrier and gathered up the mouse, winding the cord so she could put it away. "Cole!"
Her darling vampire's need to love the morning hours away had put them seriously behind the schedule he had set himself.
"Cole." Sam packed away the mouse. "Cole!" She squeaked in surprise as Cole's arms snaked around her from behind.
"Right here, dearest," he murmured in her ear. His hands slid underneath her T-shirt to cup her breasts. "Mmm, you feel lovely. I'm hungry."
Sam closed her eyes and fought the rising desire his touch always brought. It was a hard-won battle, especially since she could feel his arousal pressed hard and pulsing against her backside.
"Cole, you said you wanted to leave at sunset. Well, that was three hours ago," she chided gently. It was really difficult to keep her mind on packing when he was running his fingers over her nipples and humming against her neck.
"I know." His breath was warm against her ears and his lips soft as he moved to kiss the nape of her neck. "Maybe I was wrong to be in such a hurry." He pressed his body tightly to hers, his arousal more than evident. "Maybe just once more before we leave."
Sam couldn't help but laugh. "I don't think you know the meaning of once more. With you it's always way more than once."
"Are you complaining?" he asked with laughter in his voice. "Are you saying I'm oversexed?"
"No and yes." She giggled. "But I don't mind." If Cole had needed to feed off her body just to control his bloodlust she might have felt a bit differently, but that was only part of what drove his admittedly over-active libido. He needed to know she loved him.
The link which sex and blood opened in their minds lasted longer each time they were together but as it faded, Cole always wanted to reestablish it. He was no longer comfortable without Sam inside his head. He needed the physical expression of their love for each other so he could feel that oneness. For Cole, it had become an addiction as potent as any drug's. Sam didn't hide the fact that she was just as addicted to his body and his mental whispers of love and need as he was to hers.
He nipped gently at the base of her skull, his fangs barely felt as he silently asked her permission to do what they both wanted him to. At her whispered assent, he pushed the strap of her tank top aside and bit down. Sam was accustomed to the tiny spurt of pain that preceded the blast of pleasure that always marked Cole's feedings. She welcomed it, though she normally wasn't enthused by pain of any sort. But this pain was minimal and what immediately followed was so wonderful that she didn't mind it. She sighed in happiness as Cole settled contentedly into her thoughts.
Curled on the daybed, comfortable in her lover's arms, Sam found the energy to remind him that they were supposed to be packing the car. Cole reluctantly agreed but it was another fifteen minutes before either of them moved from the daybed.
Sam finished packing her computer and began the task of putting Cole's in a separate carrier while he carried the suitcases down to the car. She listened to his descending steps on the stairs with a smile that grew when she heard him returning only a few minutes later. He must have done that vampire thing where he moved faster than she could see. His thoughts said he missed her even though he had gone less than a block from where she was standing.
Knowing his intentions this time, she wasn't surprised when his arms wrapped around her. She was linked to him again and knew his plans as soon as they formed.
Cole's embrace was free of any urgency. He just wanted to hold her for a moment. Sam folded her arms over his and closed her eyes as he nuzzled against her neck. It was so easy to fall into each other's thoughts. It was so peaceful and nearly dreamy to concentrate on the sensations of touch and feeling and their thoughts. The outside world faded until it was barely perceptible.
"I can't claim I'm sorry for delaying our departure," Cole said aloud. His voice echoed in her head. "But you are quite correct. I did want to leave some time ago." He laughed, the sound blending in her mind, a soft background noise like the breeze ruffling the bougainvillea outside the window. "It's silly, of course. It's highly unlikely Falcon will ever discover we're here."
"And yet the most unlikely things happen all the time." Falcon's voice cut through the peacefulness of the room. "Did you really think I'd never find you, Cole?"
Cole whirled about, placing himself protectively between Sam and danger. Even in the middle of assuring her physical safety, he was mentally asking Sam to please let him deal with Falcon. She could tell he'd rather he could make his request more in the nature of a command but knew it would be useless to try and order her around. He was adamant that he was better equipped to combat Falcon in whatever ways might be necessary.
Sam wasn't so sure that was a good idea, but the six large and rather threatening bodyguards crowding into their little hotel suite behind Falcon were very much a deciding factor. Reluctantly she agreed to play the weak, inoffensive human and let Cole do the talking.
The guns the intruders wore further convinced Sam now wasn't the time to mouth off to Cole's ex-lover even though it was obvious Falcon was exceptionally pleased with herself. Sam's hand itched to slap the smile of complete satisfaction from the blonde's face but she knew she'd have to wait. Cole was right.
Sam shifted a bit so she could see Cole's face. She could feel his fear for her and kept sending what support she could. That included pride when he tilted his aristocratic chin at a perfectly haughty angle and considered Falcon coolly before answering her question.
"I sincerely hoped I'd never set eyes on you again," he stated flatly. The sheer coldness of his voice caused Sam's eyes to grow round with surprise. She knew the love he'd once had for Falcon had soured, but she had no idea it had turned to such frigid hatred.
Even as Sam's eyes widened, Falcon's narrowed and Sam felt the first stirrings of real fear. The men with the guns were a concern, true, but the weapons weren't drawn just clearly visible in waistbands and shoulder holsters. But there was clear and present threat in Falcon's gaze. Her henchmen wouldn't act without her orders but Falcon would have no problem giving the order to shoot.
Sam was willing to bet the bag of diamonds in her pocket that the guns so easily displayed all had silencers and the guards knew how to hide bodies. Or maybe they'd just leave them lying dead on the floor. There was something in the stance of the men that assured her they were professionals at the art of murder. They knew a couple of head shots were as deadly to a vampire as they were to a normal mortal. Destroy the brain or the heart, and a vampire as just as dead as anyone else. They wouldn't waste time or ammo on body shots.
She had no trouble believing they'd simply shoot Cole in the head and shoot her wherever was most convenient and quiet, and leave them where they fell. Her stomach contracted at the visual. She found it impossible to look away from those half-concealed shoulder holsters.
Sam had been in a few tough situations, but this beat all of them and she found herself wishing she was back in Texas with Cole safe beside her.
At the moment, she wished a lot of things. She wished Cole hadn't left the door open when he came up for the next batch of luggage to store in the car. She wished they'd left as soon as the sun was down. She wished Cole were controlling his anger as well as he'd controlled it back at the Regent Beverly Wiltshire and that he was right about being able to defuse his ex-lover's anger. She wished a lot of things that weren't likely to happen any time soon.
Mostly, she wished God would strike Falcon Matthews dead on the spot.
Falcon's basilisk glare swung from Cole to Sam. The Texan couldn't suppress a shiver. There was nothing warm and alive behind that pretty, delicate face. Whatever lived in Falcon's soul was cold and without feeling for anyone but Falcon.
"What's this? You don't actually expect me to believe you left me for this...disaster," Falcon sneered.
Sam ignored the insult. So did Cole. "I don't expect you to believe anything, Falcon. I thought it was obvious that our affaire is over and we should each continue our lives," he answered reasonably. The cold hatred he felt was concealed and no longer evident in his voice.
Sam was glad he had his temper firmly under control. Maybe he was right and he could talk their way out of this. Cole was quite capable of talking his way out of almost everything.
Falcon tilted her head. "No. That's not all. You just suddenly decide to run away to this dump with that? There's something far more going on here."
Sam noticed that Falcon stayed carefully just out of Cole's reach and kept at least one of her men between them at all times. Maybe Falcon wasn't as unbeatable as Cole sometimes thought, especially if Falcon was afraid of him. Sam filed that bit of information away for possible future use.
"You know I hate a mystery," Falcon continued.
Cole shrugged elegantly. "There's no mystery. You don't love me. You never have. It took a bit of time for that realization to sink in, but I did finally realize it."
"Oh, my dear. How can you think such a thing?"
If Sam hadn't been looking directly into Falcon's chill blue eyes, she might have believed the woman's statement. There was such warmth in Falcon's voice and her body language was perfectly indicative of sincerity. The only indicator of her true sentiment was her eyes. She couldn't manage to get them to hold the warmth her voice did. It was still an impressive performance. Whatever else she might be, Falcon was a superb actress. She should be able to fool anyone with her talents.
But Falcon's honeyed words could no longer fool Cole. "Please don't trouble to lie," he said softly. "It's far easier if you simply admit that you don't care about me and never did. I know I was just the means to an end."
Falcon's sweet, innocent facade cracked and fell away, revealing the cynical, hard woman underneath. Ugly lines formed around her mouth as it tightened. Her jaw grew harder and protruded angrily as her body tensed, drawing back ever so slightly. With her soft, yielding veneer gone, Falcon wasn't nearly as beautiful as she'd been just seconds earlier.
And she was smart enough to know it. Since Cole was no longer susceptible to her lies, Falcon abandoned all attempts at prevarication. "No, you're right," she admitted. "That's all you were. I never did love you."
The itch Sam had to slap Falcon was growing by the second. It wasn't helping that Falcon was talking and acting like a bad B-grade movie villain. She was behaving just the way she did in the books, reminding Sam than the other woman was a figment of Marie Desiree's imagination. It was making it really hard for Sam to remember to be afraid. The knot in Sam's stomach was growing looser by the second and heat was taking its place.
Feeling Cole's barely contained anger wasn't making it any easier for Sam to contain her own building fury either. She could feel the burn of his resentment at the years he'd lost to Falcon's lies. It fanned the flames of her antagonism, sending red-orange pulses licking at the edges of Sam's mind.
Falcon's smile was bright and malicious. "I didn't need a lover. I just needed someone to do what I wanted. There were other possibilities, but you were the easiest to deal with. I didn't need to love you. All I needed to do was make you think I did. And once that happened, everything else was so easy. You were gullible enough to believe anything I told you." She shrugged elegantly. "At least you were attractive enough that it didn't sicken me to sleep with you."
Falcon had no idea how close she came to ending up stretched out on the floor, but Cole placed a restraining hand on Sam's wrist, saving the blonde the ignominy of being on the receiving end of a good old-fashioned Texas-style bitch slap.
"Precisely," Cole answered coolly while holding Sam's hand tightly and sending her his reassurances that nothing Falcon said anymore could hurt him. "And I finally regained my senses and realized I don't love you. So it's obviously best we go our separate ways. I have no interests in your schemes or in your plans for Wynn's empire. But I also have no interest in helping him maintain his place in the world." He bowed sardonically, reminding Sam that he'd been born in a very different century. She half expected to see a sword at his side and hear him challenge Falcon to a duel. She shook her head to banish the image. His next words helped.
"You can take over California with my complete blessings," he said with a wave of one elegant hand.
His words didn't placate Falcon. Anger lent sparks to her blue eyes. Cole wasn't reacting the way she expected and it infuriated her. Sam could tell Falcon expected him to cave in, like he always did, to her demands. She expected her beauty and her guile to place him firmly under her well-manicured thumb with very little effort. His cool, negligent attitude unsettled her.
Falcon had to be in control. She had to dominate any situation and everyone around her. Cole wasn't bowing to her will, and she couldn't take it. Sam shivered and her stomach knotted again. She'd known men like Falcon. They were the lowlifes that beat up their wives and kids for no good reason. They were the ones who went postal and ended up killing just because they could.
Falcon's next words confirmed Sam's evaluation. With a smile, Falcon pulled a small knife from the pocket of her peach-colored designer pants. "Will I have your blessing when I slit your little lover's throat so we can all watch her bleed to death?" Her smile never wavered as she waited for Cole's reaction. Her eyes sparkled with something akin to lust.
With frigid calm, Cole faced her squarely. "Harm her in the least degree and I swear I will rip your head from your shoulders." The cerulean eyes of the too-Aryan bodyguard beside Falcon widened while one of his darker companion's hand stole closer to his gun. No one in the room doubted that Cole meant every word of his threat and was perfectly capable of fulfilling his lethal promise.
Her smile dimmed a bit, but Falcon didn't respond directly to Cole. She did, however, put her knife away. If she didn't hurry, she didn't waste any time about it, either.
Defeated in the way she'd least expected, Falcon glared at Cole, but could find no words in response to his implacable stance. In icy fury, she signaled her men to escort Sam and Cole out of the apartment, down the stairs and out to where a group of cars waited. They were prodded into the back of a dark Lexus and driven away before anyone at the hotel had a chance to realize anything was amiss.
Sam was grateful Falcon and half of her men stayed behind, though they probably did so to rifle through what few possessions Sam and Cole had. Sam wasn't sure she could maintain her temper if Falcon started in on Cole again. She didn't take well to threats either. Her daddy had often bemoaned Sam's temper, declaring it likely to be the death of him. Sadly, both his children were the same way. Frank had gotten beat up more than once for his inability to keep his mouth closed when his temper was up. It didn't matter how high the odds were stacked against him, he just couldn't back down if he got riled up enough.
It was maybe the only trait they shared. Sam's mama admitted they got it from her, as her daddy was in general a rational, peaceful man. Just like Mama, at a certain point they simply stopped caring about consequences and let the mad take over. It didn't happen often but when it did it could get really ugly. Gilbert Martinez could vouch for that fact.
And right now Sam's temper was starting to get the better of her good sense. Sam was seriously tempted to kick the guard with them in the head and demand he take her back to the hotel so she could knock the hell out of that yellow-haired piece of trash that thought she was so damned high and mighty.
There was a soft chuckle and Sam glanced over to see Cole smiling at her.
It will be fine. His mental assurance was strong, though it was tinted with cool green fear for Sam. He was amused by Sam's rage but he was angry, too. His fury was deeper than it had been the night she had stood on the Modesto pier and listen to him admit that he'd been used like a fool by a woman he'd loved.
She sent him her assurances that she would be fine. She was angry and she was frightened, yes; she wasn't ashamed to admit that. But she wasn't paralyzed by it. She wasn't even surprised by it. She also wasn't shocked by anything that had happened in the last half hour. There was little Falcon could do that would surprise or shock Sam.
She had felt Cole's thought processes and followed every one of them easily. Like Cole, Sam was sure that they were alive only because Falcon was curious about why Cole had run. Falcon hadn't lied when she said she hated a mystery. She'd keep them around until she got her answers, or until she became so tired of asking without getting what she wanted that she couldn't take it any more. Once either of those events happened, she'd have no further use for Sam...and probably none for Cole either.
She'll keep me around a while. Cole promised Sam. She'll want to punish me. She won't be able to stomach my preference for someone else.
Sam nodded. The seed of fear that had been planted when Sam had looked into Falcon's glacial eyes sprouted. It increased her anger. Sam hated being afraid.
I won't allow her to hurt you. My chance will come or I'll make one, he assured her. I will get us out of this.
Sam nodded again though she didn't see how such a thing was likely to happen. But she'd underestimated the divine powers that Cole kept insisting had brought her to him. It seemed they were still looking out for Cole's interests. They sent him his chance only a few minutes later.
As they sped up a twisting canyon road, a car traveling in the opposite direction rounded a blind curve half in their lane. Their driver swerved abruptly to avoid a head-on collision. The car swayed alarmingly, throwing the occupants against the seatbelts hard enough to bruise. Running half along the shoulder, the Lexus plowed through a small pile of debris. Sam jumped as a tire exploded and the ride turned rough and violent. The guard in the back with them was thrown against the door with enough force to disorient him. A stinging right cross from Cole's hard fist left the man slumped insensible against the cushions, his head bobbing loosely as the car rocked and shook.
The driver was too busy trying to hold the speeding car steady to worry about what was happening in the backseat. His hands fought the madly jerking wheel while he cursed loudly. His compatriot in the front tried valiantly to steady himself and bring his gun to bear on Cole despite the gyrations of the automobile.
Sam shrieked as a shot ran out and the back glass shattered, sprinkling her with thick glass. She threw her hands over her head as Cole dived at the gunman. The guard screamed and Sam felt Cole's satisfaction as the mortal's wrist broke beneath her lover's strong fingers. The gunman screamed louder and higher than Sam had, but quickly joined his partner in unconsciousness, thanks to a well-placed punch from Cole's fist.
The driver, valiantly trying to hold the swaying auto and process what was happening around him, overcompensated for the flat tire and sent the vehicle completely across the road and off the other side.
The seatbelt locked, holding Sam tightly in place as the car careened across the shoulder of the road. The soil was soft and the car spun slightly. Cole threw himself across Sam, further protecting her as the Lexus slid sideways down the embankment and into a stand of trees. It finally came to rest with a painful lurch with the driver's side door against a large oak. The airbag had deployed, but the driver's head had hit the side window hard enough to leave him moaning and half-unaware. Cole quickly made sure he joined his companions in unconsciousness.
Sam moaned a bit herself as Cole popped the release on the seatbelt and reached across her to open the door. He had to push and then push again harder than before to get the hinge to brace and lock it open. Sam would have tumbled out if he hadn't been holding her steady. He half-pushed her from the car, holding her waist as he climbed out with her. She stumbled from the wreck and leaned against the back quarter panel of the car, disoriented and shaky. It took all her concentration to remain on her feet.
Cole cradled her face in his hands for a moment, reaching out with his mind to make sure she wasn't hurt. His thoughts steadied hers and she was able to take a quick inventory of her state, to begin to think again.
Even with her mental assurance that she wasn't bleeding and nothing was broken, he still insisted on running his hands over her. His concern flooded her thoughts, erasing all the emotions that had been there before. All his thoughts were for her safety and well-being. He had to be certain the glass from the shattered window hadn't cut her and that the wreck hadn't injured her. Reassured, he still ran his fingers through her hair, combing out any glass that might linger.
Finally sure that Sam was shaken and bruised but otherwise okay, Cole tucked his captured gun under his belt buckle and dove back into the car. He surfaced with both the other guard's gun and the driver's. He tucked one gun in back of his waistband and pulled his shirt over both the one in front and the one behind. Then he pushed the remaining weapon under the waistband of Sam's jeans and hid it the same way. It felt cold and uncomfortable at the small of her back, but she knew she'd soon get used to it. It wasn't the first time she'd carried a pistol there.
Satisfied that he'd done what he could for the moment, he simply pulled her to him and held her close. His thanksgiving for their safety and freedom flowed through Sam. She held him tightly and tried to ease the racing of her heart. She stifled an irrational urge to cry. Crying wouldn't help anything
When Cole dipped his head and pressed his lips to hers, she welcomed his kiss with every particle of her being. She found that she needed his touch as much as he needed hers.
Cole allowed them only a few moments to recover before he led Sam away from the wreck.
"We can't fight Falcon alone," Cole said. "She's furious now, and that will double when she finds out we've escaped. This time, she won't hesitate to kill us if she finds us. And she won't stop searching for us. She's amazingly tenacious; she'll keep coming after us."
He helped Sam climb the embankment back up to the road. The dry clumps of grass scratched Sam's palms but they gave her enough leverage to make the climb only moderately difficult. Cole's voice was implacable as he helped her ascend the steep embankment. "I have no wish to live the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, wondering when Falcon will appear. More importantly, I won't have you in constant danger from her."
Gaining the road again, he looked left and right, orienting himself. There was no sign of the car that had caused the accident. Likely, the driver had not seen them leave the road, and had no idea the incident was anything more than a near miss.
"We need help. And as Fate would have it, we are only a mile or so from Wynn's gate. If nothing else, we'll be able to call for a cab from there and collect the Maybach." He looked up at the star-filled sky. "But I've a better idea. If I'm lucky, we'll be able to make him see reason and he'll finally exert sufficient influence over Falcon to stop her. It's time he took his daughter in hand." He held out his hand to lead Sam down the dark canyon road. "Come, let's go have a bit of a talk with my brother."
"Don't you get it; you're a character from a vampire novel," Samantha repeated for the fourth time. "You're words on a page. You are not real, Wynn." She looked to Cole for help. "Well, not to me."
Cole shrugged. "I've always said Wynn has no imagination." At her frown of displeasure, he held up his hands as if warding off a blow from both Sam and Wynnston Matthews. "All right! No need to look daggers at me."
She rolled her eyes. Look daggers at him? Did he have to talk like a bad piece of fiction?
She thought for a moment. Well, considering that like Wynn he was a fictional character lifted straight from a book, she supposed it was mandatory he sound as though he was reading from the pages of The Vampire Encounters. He just seemed to be doing it more tonight than he normally did. Or maybe she just hadn't noticed him speaking in quite so flowery and baroque a fashion lately. And then again, maybe it was indicative of how wrapped up in him she was. More and more recently, she forgot he wasn't real. Lately, he was the only thing that seemed real.
She sighed. Why hadn't they run for Hong Kong when they had the chance?
She glanced at Cole's grin and frowned, unimpressed and rather annoyed by his levity. He'd preached nothing for the last month but how much danger they were in and now he was making jokes! And with Wynn of all people! Not only was Wynn notoriously lacking in humor but he'd been the one to pass a death sentence on Cole. If she wasn't so exhausted, she'd drag Cole out of the room by one of his perfectly-shaped ears and hide him somewhere safe.
Tibet came to mind.
She shot a look of entreaty at Cole but he either didn't see it or was ignoring her. She didn't want to be here and she didn't want to talk to Cole's brother. She had no wish to try and explain the situation to anyone, least of all to Wynnston Matthews. She was tired, she hurt all over, and she wanted to take Cole home, wrap herself around him, and stay there for about a week. Where that home was didn't matter. Home was wherever she and Cole could be alone and safe. Why wasn't he calling for that damned fancy car of his so they could leave?
The entreaty turned to a glower. After all, this was his idea. And if ever there was a bad idea, this was it. So how come she was the one stuck explaining the impossible to Wynn? Cole was the one who insisted they confess everything to Wynn.
She sighed. Well, almost everything. They'd agreed that some information was best left just between the two of them.
Her head hurt again, and she was getting that disconnected feeling she hated so much. She felt as though she was watching a movie and knowing the people on the screen were screwing up but wasn't able to stop them. She knew what was wrong. They shouldn't be talking to Wynn; they should be running for their lives. They should be headed back into hiding.
She didn't care that Wynn was supposedly Cole's best friend and brother in blood. There was something about Wynn that kept her from trusting him. She didn't feel secure explaining to Wynn what she had been doing since she found herself in his world. She hadn't liked Wynn when she first read about him and meeting him hadn't changed her opinion.
Wynn was a Heathcliff-style icon if ever there was one. The classic tortured hero types never appealed to Sam. On top of her dislike for gothic brooding, she had a feeling that for all his protests and soul-searching, Wynn only really cared about Wynn.
In all of the novels there was an undercurrent, regardless of plot, that brought a frown to her face and dissatisfaction to her heart. It all had to do with the way she interpreted his motives. Wynn always seemed to be looking out for Wynn first. On the surface he seemed the hero but underneath---well it was the underneath that concerned her.
He didn't really see other people as individuals. He might worry about humanity as a whole but he had no empathy for each separate person. He was too busy agonizing over the state of his own life to worry about how Sam or anyone else might feel. He would whine and waffle ad nauseum about the state of his life and whether being a vampire kept him from true love, but he seldom discussed how the members of his family felt except in relation to himself.
His relationship with Cole was a perfect example. As far as she'd read, he had few, if any, friends. There were followers and acolytes aplenty, but no real friends---except Cole. And look how that had turned out. The first time Cole really stood up for what he thought was right and defied Wynn, Cole had been exiled from the family.
Sam just couldn't work up a lot of faith that Wynn would have any inclination to help them now. Or forgive Cole for what he might have done in another reality if Wynn ever found out about it.
The gaze Wynn now turned on Cole, concentrated and intense but completely lacking in warmth, confirmed her suspicions. She could see no compassion in his cool blue eyes. There was calculation and a good bit of semi-understandable confusion but no sympathy. She shivered slightly. His expression was too similar to the one Falcon had when she'd calmly informed Cole that she intended to slit Sam's throat and watch Sam bleed to death. Falcon had just stood there with a knife in her hand and a chill smile on her lips, staring at Cole with fierce interest in his reaction, hoping to see him flinch. That same smile rested on Wynn's lips now. It made Sam shudder. Wynn was every bit as cold as his daughter; he just hid it better.
Sam could never figure out why he was the hero of the series instead of Cole Grayson. So Cole's morals were a little gray---Okay, a lot gray at times---he was still infinitely more interesting and appealing than Wynn and a far better person at heart.
Unfortunately, right now her interesting, appealing, and better-at-heart vampire was not being helpful.
"Just explain it to him again, please?" she requested. She felt too tired to do anything else. She couldn't even work up the energy to be really annoyed with Cole. Not that she would be able to maintain her annoyance even if she wasn't bone-tired and ready to collapse. It was impossible for her to stay upset at Cole. All he had to do was look at her with those amazing lavender eyes and she forgot everything else. It was pathetic how easily he could wind her around his finger with a glance, a word, or---God help her---a single touch. One brush of those slender, elegant fingers across her cheek or along her throat, and she melted.
It was understandable; he was designed to make women melt, after all. The author of The Vampire Encounters had written him as impossible to resist if you were the sort of woman who was attracted to his type. And Sam was definitely attracted to his type. The dark, dangerous anti-hero always got to Sam far more than the tortured good guy. That and Cole's Byronic "mad, bad, and dangerous to know" air had originally drawn her to him more than the more goody-good Wynn. Now that she knew and loved him, her resistance to his charm was zero.
He might be nothing more than a hallucination she was having thanks to a blow to the head while reading a paperback, but he was a lovely, dear, sweet hallucination. And she wasn't sure she could stand it if something happened to him. The knot in her stomach was for him far more than it was for herself. The anger slowly twisting a cord across her chest was building for him. Wynn was a danger to Cole and Sam had reached the conclusion that dangers to her darling love were simply unacceptable.
Without further consideration, she promised herself that if Wynn hurt Cole, Sam would stomp his blond hero ass right into the ground. Vampire or not, she'd find a way to take him out. Wynn had hurt Cole enough. As tired as she was, barely able to keep her eyes open against sheer exhaustion, she'd find a way to keep Cole safe.
Cole paused in his recitation to allow Wynn to ask some question or the other and took the opportunity to smile at her. Never had a man's smile affected her as powerfully as Cole's always did. She fought the urge to tell Wynn she didn't need him in the least. She wanted to take one of Wynn's fancy cars and run off to Mexico so she could molest Cole in safety and peace. It was very tempting; especially since that astounding creature would actually let her have her wicked way with him in any fashion she could think up. And she could come up with several different ways she'd like to molest him without really thinking too hard. If there was ever a fictional person she could be happy spending the rest of her life with, it was Cole Grayson.
In fact, she intended to do just that. The silver ring on her finger might be just a cheap trinket from a sideshow booth, but it was enough of an engagement ring for her. It was more than her daddy had ever managed to give her mama. Sam didn't need gold or platinum to know that she loved Cole and he loved her. She just needed to get out of Wynn's museum of a house and somewhere far away with Cole. If only her head was clearer and she could think quietly for a little while, she'd figure it out.
Between her exhaustion and Cole's fingers tracing circles on the back of her hand, she found her attention repeatedly drifting from the conversation. As Cole's cool, rich voice related their tale to Wynn yet again she could tell Wynn was still finding the concept very difficult to grasp. She couldn't really blame him; even Sam admitted it was an insane idea.
And Wynn didn't accept change easily. Wynn's intelligence was more than moderate, but his thought processes were too constrained. As Cole said, Wynn lacked imagination. In this as in almost everything else, he was Cole's polar opposite---psychologically, morally, even physically, they were as different as they could be. Anti-hero versus hero, she thought again with a faint smile. Dark, devilish, restless, kind spirit versus overly noble, golden, supposed knight in shining armor.
The only trait they shared was their attractiveness. Though not her type at all, Sam had to admit Wynn was as handsome in his way as Cole was in his. Though no taller than Cole, Wynn had a much heavier build, muscular and strong with a broad chest and powerful arms and thighs. He looked as though he could easily break the darker man in half. If Cole was all lithe panther grace, Wynn was bear-like strength and bulk. His strongly sculpted face was purely masculine with a hawkish nose, heavy brow, and a generous mouth. His deep-set eyes were so clear a blue his author frequently compared them to a summer sky. They stood out against his pale skin and burnished golden hair and drew you to gaze into their cerulean depths. The author of The Vampire Encounters made much of how soulful his eyes were. Now that Sam had actually seen them, she had to disagree. Much as that description made sense on the surface, she was more forcibly reminded of a frozen winter lake than a warm June sky. Her concerns about his true motivations and empathy aside, she couldn't deny that Wynn was just as heart-stoppingly gorgeous as Cole. There was no doubt that however much author Marie Desiree's imagination might run to somewhat flowery prose, she certainly could invent lovely men.
Sam was drawn from her contemplation of the two men by Wynn's next question. Addressed directly to her, she had not choice but to answer him regardless of how tired and disconnected from the world she felt.
"I have no idea how I actually ended up here, but I think it has something to do with my job," she answered slowly. She didn't want to tell Wynn anything but the bare facts, not that she knew much more than that. Something in the way he was staring at Cole gave her the raging heebie-jeebies. The urge to grab Cole, run away, and hide somewhere far from Wynn Matthews was growing stronger.
She relaxed a bit when Cole wrapped his hand around hers and squeezed gently, lending her silent support. Drawing a deep breath, she continued, "As I said, I was working late at the office. It's a research facility. We're investigating faster than light particles. It's mostly boring mathematical stuff, squiggly lines on charts and tables full of numbers. Stuff like that. I don't know what they mean. I'm not a scientist; I'm a computer geek. I keep the systems running. I was on call in case there was a problem. They were running some new thing or another and had to have someone to monitor the servers." She shrugged. "I'll admit I was reading a novel while the computers were sorting it all out. Night shift is boring. There's not a lot for me to do unless something gets hosed. But there were no problems that night. Everything looked perfectly normal, just another late night at the office. Then there was some sort of an explosion and I was here." With Cole, where I belong. But none of that was any of Wynn's business.
Cole took up the thread and reiterated the basics of their plight again. She was grateful Cole refrained from telling Wynn everything. He didn't mentioned his death or the fact that Wynn had ordered it. While he revealed that he'd made Falcon a vampire, he didn't state that he'd done so expressly against Wynn's order.
Sam felt that was a wise course. Wynn was very particular about his status as ruler of his territory and didn't take well to disobedience. Sam hoped he'd be angry with Falcon for acting without his guidance and rein his daughter in.
But though he nodded, Wynn didn't seem disposed to exert any sort of influence over anyone at the moment. As Cole finished his explanation of who Sam was and why Falcon was a danger to everyone, including Wynn, the golden vampire simply sat, seemingly lost in thought.
Sam leaned against Cole and tried to keep her eyes open. She was utterly exhausted, mentally and physically. She ached from the car wreck and had developed a headache halfway through Cole's story. Her head felt heavy, and the disconnected from reality feeling was so strong it scared her.
Exhaustion made it more and more difficult for Sam to follow the conversation. She stifled a yawn and hoped they could leave soon. As ever, Cole read her mind. "We need rest, Wynn, and you need to consider your options."
The older vampire nodded. "Yes. I need to think on all you've told me."
If Sam hadn't been so tired, she'd have laughed at the heavy portentousness Wynn managed to infuse into each word. As it was, his overly heavy tones and foreboding mien just increased her fatigue.
She was grateful for the support of Cole's arm about her waist as they traversed the halls of Wynn's opulent Mediterranean mansion. The staircase stretched up into forever, but they followed one of Wynn's men up them.
Safe in the room they were given, Cole helped Sam though a quick shower, checking yet again that she wasn't cut or injured from the car wreck. She sighed gratefully when she finally stretched out on the bed. She cuddled close to Cole and fell asleep immediately.
Sam woke with Cole's worry strong in her mind. He stood with an arm braced against the door. "What is it?"
"The door's locked," he said tensely. "And if I remember correctly, all the windows on this wing are barred."
Sam slipped to the edge of the bed. The light gleaming around the edges of the heavy curtains showed that the sun was high. She peeped around the draperies and confirmed that he was correct. The window was barred. Cole came and sat down beside her and ran his hand through his thick, black hair. A single lock fell across his brow, rendering him absurdly young and vulnerable looking. It awakened every maternal and protective urge she possessed.
His fear clenched in her heart. She didn't need to look far to discover why he was so stricken. He'd been kept in a room very like this in the days prior to his execution.
"I should never have brought you here," he said. "I should have listened to you. If Wynn's turned against me again...." He didn't finish the sentence, though Sam knew he was reliving the heartbreak of the betrayal he'd felt at the hands of his family. "I should have listened to you."
Sam smiled, though there was little amusing about their situation. "If you think you made me do anything, you aren't the same man that's been living in my head for the past month. You know I do as I please, Cole. I've never yet let any man---even you---order me around."
He looked at her and arched one perfect eyebrow.
"Oh, please," she scoffed. "If I hadn't wanted to go along with your plan, I wouldn't be here. So stop the blame. It gives me a headache."
He stared at her for a moment, and then burst into laughter. "I do love you, Samantha Bailey. If these last weeks have shown me anything, it is that I have a multitude of reasons to do so." He kissed her tenderly, and for once there was no lust in the action.
Despite his laughter and her smiles, they couldn't pretend that deep concern for their future wasn't uppermost in both their minds. Plagued by worry, there was no way Sam could go back to sleep, though she lay back on the pillows. It hurt to move too quickly or in certain directions. She wasn't getting up until it was forced on her.
Cole stretched out beside her and pulled her into his arms. It had been several hours since they'd made love or shared blood, and she could only feel the most intense of his emotions. But what he was feeling was so strong it bled through their weakened ties as easily as water from a severed pipe. Currently, he was dreadfully afraid, not so much for himself as he was for her. She really had no comfort to give him. There was no action that would change their imprisonment and no words that would make him feel better. Or were there?
As they lay in silence something occurred to Sam that she wanted to say. "I've been thinking."
"Should I be frightened?" Cole quipped.
She ignored his teasing tone. "Did you ever decide where you want to go when we leave California?"
The frown that creased his smooth brow was rather adorable. Having him inside her head made it very difficult for Sam to confuse him much and she enjoyed the few times it occurred.
"We can go anywhere you'd like," he said slowly. "I've said I really have no preference. Hong Kong, Paris, Rome, it's all one to me."
She nodded. "Okay, then. How about Mexico?" she offered. "That little town you like so much. It sounds good to me."
They were still connected enough that she could feel his surprise. "Mexico?"
"Sure. Why not?" She shrugged. "It's where you really want to go."
He opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it again. He closed his eyes and pulled her close. "You don't have to do that for me."
"I don't have to do anything," she answered. "But I want to." She smiled into his incredulous face. "Besides, I speak decent Spanish even if I do have a border town accent. My French sucks, and the only Chinese or Italian I know is food related."
Cole lay back on the pillows and laughed. "So until your French, Italian, and Mandarin improve, you've no interest in world travel?"
"Not a bit. Besides, there are crazy people out there who like to blow up things. They don't have a whole lot of terrorists in Mexico," she asserted. "Well, except down in the Yucatan."
That set off more laughter from her handsome lover. When it finally settled, he turned so he faced her. The pure love and appreciation on his face warmed Sam's soul. "You really are an extraordinary woman. You realize that, don't you?"
Raised eyebrows were the only answer he received and he smiled gently. "Yes, if we both live through this, I believe I'd like nothing better than settling in Mexico with you." He ran his fingertips along her cheek. "I believe nothing will make me happier."
He eased close and brushed his lips across Sam's. There was a light coating of blood on them. He'd nicked his lip, and it bled enough that his mind opened to her.
Gratitude. Love. Amazement.
Cole's thoughts were all centered on Samantha. She had given him the option that Falcon had denied him. Though he knew she would follow wherever he led, it meant worlds that she would make the choice herself. Only Sam had cared enough to consider what would make him happy.
"You're always here for me. You're always beside me when I need you. I think you're the only one who really cares. How can I mean so much to you?" He took the effort to say the words aloud.
She looked at him solemnly, considering his question carefully. "I'm not sure. You just do. No one ever said love was logical. Half the time I worry that you don't even exist." She shrugged again. "But it doesn't matter. I love you anyway."
He kissed her fingers, then her palm before pressing her hand to his cheek. "I would do anything for you. I love you."
She knew he did. She could see it in his face. She could feel it pulsing through her. His love vibrated through every corner of her heart and mind. It showed in his every action. It glowed in his every word. More and more Cole quite simply existed only for her. Daily she felt that love surrounding and protecting her.
"No, you protect me." Cole's thoughts were clear. She sheltered him from the world in a way no one else could. She exerted freedom and control over her own actions while considering his well-being. And when it came, she was willing to stand as a buffer against any storm, however large or small that might arise. She brought him a peace and serenity that no other could match.
Now, she was willing to even do this, to set his longing above her own. He couldn't find the words to express his thoughts and so let their bond carry it.
Feeling his cheek scratchy-smooth and warm beneath her fingers, that constantly suppressed longing she always felt surfaced. Without deliberate thought, without intent, she made the mistake of looking too deeply into the face of love. In an instant, she fell into his eyes and lost herself. Of its own volition, her hand gently slipped behind his head, fingers wrapped in his silky hair. She pulled him to her slowly until their lips touched again and suddenly nothing else mattered.
Conscious thought fled when he felt her lips pressed against his and their minds fell together. His heart called out for this and ruled his mind and body. This was why he lived. This was why he had found his way back from the grave. He had defeated Death to be with her. He pulled her tightly into his arms, never taking his lips from hers. He intended to never take his lips from hers again. He rolled a bit, covering her body with his own. Her lips opened beneath his and he deepened the kiss, tasting her, exploring her mouth, reveling when she explored his. He had not felt the touch of her this way since Falcon appeared in their doorway. His joy at the renewal of their bond pulsed through Sam. At times it had been nearly impossible for him to remember what his life had been like without the touch of her mind to his.
I don't think I can remember it either, she thought to him.
She found the tiny wound on his lower lip, the mark of his fang, and sucked on it. She couldn't imagine life without him as her lover. Kisses from another, however affectionate and loving, would never be the same.
Never, he agreed. They could never quench the thirst for you that parched my heart. For nearly a decade I stood beside a woman I loved and was denied this.
She smiled at him and told him he was talking like a romance hero again.
He smiled back and continued in that same vein. Now, like water flowing through the desert, life blooms in the wake of your lips.
Then for long minutes, he simply kissed her. Sam knew she'd never have enough. Each touch of his lips deepened her craving for more, a drug that her system would never purge. His need kept the fires of her desire constantly alive, banked and ready to flare up.
His desire for her simplest touch was monumental. The merest brush of her hand was worth more to him than the evening's long attentions of any other woman. Her lips on his were worth the wealth of nations. He would trade any item in his possession for an hour of her time. Every kiss was bliss immeasurable.
Sam couldn't resist the thoughts he sent to her, each more idealistic than the one before.
Petal-soft, she brushed her hands over his lower back. They slipped under his untucked shirt and rested warm and gentle on his skin. He moaned at the ecstasy of merely having her touch him. She gave the tiniest echo of that sound and tightened her embrace, holding him as though she would never open her arms again, as though she would hold him forever. His hands cradled her face, his fingers tangled in her hair, as their kiss became more frantic, his lips more demanding.
Her hands pressed more insistently against his back, holding him to her, pressing him closer. His lips moved to her chin, her cheeks, her eyelids. They moved to the white column of her throat and settled there, warm where they touched her skin. That warmth settled into her heart, spreading through her body until she smoldered for him. When, in the softest of voices he said, "I love you," flame ignited and pure fire flowed through them both, burning away all hesitancy, all thoughts of anything but loving each other.
His hand moved down her neck and inside the collar of her shirt, opening it, his touch silken on her skin. Without cognizant thought, her fingers found the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one, opening the garment so she could touch him.
His hand slid effortlessly over her ribs, down her waist, across her stomach while his lips sought hers again.
"Samantha, I want you," he whispered. "I want you more than I ever dreamed it was possible to want a woman."
"Yes," she panted, her breath warm against his lips. "Oh, God, I want you, too. I love you."
He groaned and slipped his tongue into her willing mouth. He kissed her as deeply as he could, as deeply as the love that dwelled in his heart. There was no other thought in his mind save her. She was all he required. She was life and light and everything that made up his world. She was his reason for being.
His lips moved across her body as his hand freed her of any clothing that kept her from his touch. He wanted to know every inch of her. He wanted to worship all of her.
She helped him from his clothes and when he lay revealed, she felt faint from the sheer beauty of him. He lowered his head to her breast and she closed her eyes unable to look at all of him.
Her love was as great as his and inundated him in comfort and joy such as he'd never known. The taste of her skin, the feel of her gasping with desire for him, drove him mad, and his madness infected her. Sam could no longer think, only feel. Her fingers closed around him and he arched into her grasp, nearly overcome by so simple a touch.
"I need you," he whispered against her skin. "I love you." Once discovered, he couldn't seem to stop saying what was in his heart. Though it burned across their mental link, he was possessed by the need to say the words aloud.
It inflamed Sam's senses. His breath, drawn only so he could speak words of love, was cool against her fevered skin.
"I loved you from the minute I saw you. I'll love you till I die. God willing, I'll love you even after."
His response to her words was a burst of pure desire so strong it wiped everything but thoughts of him from her mind. Falcon and Wynn no longer existed. Danger and death might wait for them just outside their locked door but they'd have what time they had left on their terms, not bound by Wynn's rules or Falcon's spite.
Her stomach was soft and yielding beneath his mouth. The taste of her inner thigh, softer still, the skin smooth as satin under his tongue, was as intoxicating as fine brandy. He could hear her heart pounding, setting the rhythm for his love. He could sense the blood flowing through her veins, more precious than ambrosia. To taste her, to claim her for all eternity as his, to bind her to him forever, would complete his existence. He would give himself over to her, become a part of her. "Be mine," he pled. "Please be mine."
She gently pulled him up her body, drawing their lips together once more. "Yours. I want to be yours," she breathed. "I've always wanted to be yours."
He groaned in elation, kissing her with all the joy he felt. He licked down her throat, his fangs slowly lengthening, preparing to possess her. They scraped across her skin delicately and then as he plunged into her body, they sank into her flesh.
Sam arched up, caught in an ecstasy of sensation and passion. Minds joined, blood and seed exchanged, they crossed the boundary of desire and shattered into each other. Replete, they slid from the troubles of the world into a quiet state where there were soft words and gentle touches before the requirements of rest urged them into oblivion.
Long after the sun set, a loud knock on the locked door jarred them from contented sleep and the world, unheeded for a few precious hours, crashed in upon them.
The sight of Falcon standing beside Wynn destroyed what little hope Sam had. The smile on Falcon's beautifully false face was enough to send dread rushing through the Texan. Cole's hold on her hand tightened and she felt his fear as strongly as her own.
As they drew near, Wynn spoke. "Falcon arrived shortly after you retired. She brought me some very interesting reading material." He held up a copy of The Vampire Encounters.
Sam's heart contracted painfully. It had to be her copy; there was no other in this world. Falcon must have found it at the Hotel California and brought it to Wynn. Damn her! And damn Marie Desiree! If the reader weren't on his side, that book made Cole look like the worst sort of villain. It portrayed him as conniving and rebellious, a man who seduced the youthful Falcon, turned her against Wynn's orders, and sought to undermine Wynn's authority. Worst of all, it showed Cole as a murderer who killed Wynn's daughter.
"It seems you weren't completely forthcoming last night," Wynn continued. "It appears you left out a few choice bits." His expression was glassy, the creases about his mouth hard and deeply carved.
Cole's grip on Sam's hand tightened. His expression was neutral and an almost-smile curved his lips. Only their connection let Sam know how desperately afraid he was. He managed to keep that slightest of smiles as he met Wynn's gaze levelly. "Nothing that mattered," he said calmly.
"Really?" Wynn's blue eyes were as cold as Falcon's and as sharp and searching as the raptor his daughter was named after. "I read this book last night. Aside from the abysmal writing, I found it extremely interesting and filled with a great deal that matters." He glanced at Sam, and Cole shifted forward slightly, shielding her. The move was so subtle even Sam had a hard time telling if it was deliberate or not. It was only her connection to him that confirmed Cole's fears Wynn had decided Sam was the source of Cole's defection from the ranks and meant to punish her for it.
Wynn frowned. Sam wasn't sure if he'd noticed Cole's protective stance, or if his frown was the result of his general dissatisfaction with the entire situation. His voice was as chill as his expression when he addressed Cole again. "Falcon had the chance to tell her own version of recent events. It was a very absorbing discussion."
I'll bet, Sam thought. She could just imagine the sort of lies Falcon had been telling her father. Anger tinged the fear in her heart and she glared at the other woman.
It exploded when Wynn turned icy eyes on Cole. "You realize I'm going to kill you slowly for raping Falcon."
"That lying little slut," Sam growled. "He never assaulted her. Cole's never touched her in anger! He for damned sure never hurt her!"
Wynn transferred his attention from Cole to Sam. "According to this...." He held up Sam's book. "And according to my daughter's own testimony, Cole did a great deal more than hurt her. If I don't change the future that you yourself have told me will happen, he'll end up murdering her."
"Cole didn't murder her! He stopped her from murdering innocent people!" Sam said hotly. The anger now far outweighed the fear in her heart.
"Samantha," Cole said carefully. His mental voice begged her not to anger Wynn further.
"No! I'm not going to stand here and let him say those things about you," she said. "I know you never did anything that Falcon didn't order you to do. You followed her every wish right up until the day you finally had enough of her lies and violence. You only stopped believing in her when you finally couldn't take it any more."
"I see you've been taken in by his pretty face and prettier words," Falcon said. "So was I, for a long time. I believed he loved me right up until the moment he...." She left the sentence hanging as if it were too painful for her to continue. Her voice was soft and her eyes radiant. If Sam hadn't known how perfidious the other woman was, she would have believed Falcon was concerned that Cole had somehow misled Sam and that Sam was in real danger from him. As it was, Sam knew the radiance was sheer joy that Falcon was in control of her father. Once more Falcon was the dominant force in a situation and everyone danced according to the strings she pulled. She'd sit back and smile and appear utterly innocent while she consigned Cole to death again.
"You live in the right town," Sam spat. "You can act with the best of them. You beat Meryl Streep all hollow!"
Falcon smiled sweetly. "Poor thing. He really has you wrapped about his finger, doesn't he? We should try to help her, Father."
The look of pride and tenderness on Wynn's face was enough to gag Sam.
Before she could say what sprang into her mind, Cole interrupted. "Falcon's right. Samantha's not a part of this." His grip on her hand was painfully tight. "She should leave. This is something for the family to settle without any outsiders involved."
"Shut up, Cole," Sam ordered softly. The warmth she felt at his efforts to protect her colored her voice but didn't mean she'd let him have his way in this. "Falcon isn't about to let me walk out of here. She may not have actually wanted you because she loved you but she wanted to own you. I took you away from her and she isn't going to let that slide."
Falcon made a noise of anger, and Cole settled himself more firmly between Sam and danger. His mental voice was screaming caution and care.
Sam was not immune to his pleading and subsided, settling for glaring at Falcon.
Murmurs ran through the assembled vampires and Wynn held up his hand, regally gesturing for silence. "Cole's decision to take a human lover is not the issue here. I must decide if he is guilty of raping my daughter," he said sadly.
"Never!" Sam declared hotly. "If Falcon said so, she's lying."
Cole's fingers tightened warningly around hers, but she could feel his gratitude as well as his concern. This time was so very different from that earlier day he'd faced his brother's justice. This time he had a champion ready to speak up for him against whatever accusations were hurled against him. This time he didn't stand alone.
"Never," Sam whispered both aloud and in his mind. "You'll never be alone as long as I'm alive."
Cole turned slightly, a smile of such pure joy lighting his face and mind Sam had to smile in response.
"I love you," he said clearly, the words ringing through the large room. "Whatever comes, that won't change," he said with equal force. His mind declared the truth of what his lips spoke. I'll see you are sent away where you'll be safe. Go to Mexico. Go anywhere you want as long as it's far from Wynn and Falcon, he ordered.
"I won't leave," Sam answered aloud. "And you know damned good and well that you can't make me."
Cole chuckled. "So I've learned." His voice was gentle and his eyes glowed faintly with love and demon fire.
"It damned well took you long enough," Sam retorted with the same emotions coloring her words.
Wynn frowned and held his hand up again, imperiously, warningly. The gesture was a touch too dramatic, and the fear Sam had felt of him faded further as her feeling of being in a movie increased. "The mortal doesn't matter," Wynn stated, agreeing to Cole's request, and her irritation grew.
Sam curled her lip and transferred her death glare from Falcon to Wynn. The mortal? Had he actually called her 'the mortal'? She half-expected some old Sci-Fi hero to appear and rescue them. "Good God! So do you see yourself as Ming the Merciless or Darth Vader?" And as for the mortal not mattering, well, given half a chance, she'd show him just how much she did matter.
He ignored her and addressed Cole. "Based on Falcon's testimony and your own assurance that the events in this book actually happened or could happen in the future, I have no choice but to declare you no longer a part of my family."
Overly theatrical to the point of affectation, his words still brought cramping fear to Sam's gut. Excommunication from his family had injured Cole far more than his actual execution. She waited for the return of the heartbreak Cole felt the first time he was rejected by his family.
It didn't come. Sadness radiated from her lover, but it was sorrow for Wynn's delusions. Cole now knew his brother wouldn't see his daughter was a monster until it was too late. One day Falcon would kill Wynn, Cole didn't doubt that for an instant. And that thought brought a measure of sadness to his soul.
Cole's emotions triggered Sam's barely quiescent anger. "Cole hasn't done anything wrong! He slept with Falcon because she wanted him to. Falcon's the one who seduced him," Sam declared with calm she didn't feel. "If you can't see that she's lying, then you're even more stupid than that book makes you look."
Wynn snarled and motioned toward his guards. Cole took his brother's action as a lethal threat to his lover and set his himself more firmly before her. But the guards obviously had prior orders and grabbed the Irishman.
"My decision is plain. Cole is guilty of serious crimes against my daughter and our family structure. I condemn him to death, the sentence to be carried out immediately." Wynn's statement was followed immediately by Sam's shout of denial.
Wynn's guards clamped hard fingers on her arms. She fought against the bruising pressure but even though they were human, not vampire, they were big, strong men and her struggles were useless.
Their actions did, however, fuel Cole's already energized protective urges. "Don't hurt her," he ordered, his eyes glowing and fangs extended. He shook off one of his captors, sending the man tumbling into a cache of observers. Sam was jerked back by one of her guards, pain shooting through her shoulder. Cole felt it and rage joined his compulsion to shield her from harm.
"I said, leave her alone!"
Sam had never really believed that time could slow down when something awful happened but time did stretch and nearly stop as she caught movement to her left and a thug stepped fully into her view, his gun straight-armed at her lover.
Simultaneous with the roar of the pistol, Cole's head snapped back and then forward before he dropped to his knees and fell to his side. Sam couldn't scream, not even as a tiny thread of blood leaked from the perfectly round hole in his forehead. She could only pull against her captor's hold and stare into Cole's open eyes as his consciousness slipped from her mind. She held as tightly to his thoughts as she could, refusing to let him go. She couldn't face living without him. Her mind empty of his presence and love, she didn't flinch when the brute who murdered Cole turned his gun on her and fired. She didn't care.
"Sam? Can you hear me? Come on, Sam. Wake up."
Sam's head felt heavy and filled with strands of lead floss. She tried to concentrate on the voice calling to her. It didn't sound familiar. Still... "Cole?"
"That's it, honey. Wake up. You can do it."
It was so hard to think. Sam forced her eyes open but everything was fuzzy. She tried to call for her lover again but her mouth didn't want to work.
"Good. Ms. Bailey? Can you understand me?"
As her eyes finally focused, Sam stared at the stranger leaning over her. She didn't recognize the dark-haired, dark-eyed man. "Who're you?" she managed to croak.
"I'm Dr. Rodriquez. It's alright. You're in a hospital but you're going to be fine."
She blinked. A hospital? Had she actually been shot then? But surely a gunman who could put a bullet firmly in Cole's brain wouldn't miss her. She was sure of that. Cole was dying and she was dying with him.
She managed to turn her head slightly and stared in horrified fascination at the monitor recording her strong, unvarying heartbeat. She twitched her lips and felt the slight pressure of an oxygen tube resting beneath her nose. It didn't completely block the medicinal smell of the room. She tried holding her breath and almost immediately felt the compulsion to breathe. "I'm alive," she rasped. Why? Why was she still alive when Cole was gone?
The doctor grinned. "Yes, you are. Though I have to say it could have been a near-run thing. That was a big explosion and you took quite a blow to the head."
"Blow?" Her tongue didn't want to work. Her limbs felt too heavy to lift and her head refused to clear. She felt like she had when she broke her leg and the ER gave her pain drugs.
The doctor smiled. "Yes, you fell and took a pretty good whack to the back of your head. The good news is there's no fracture, and the concussion isn't as bad as it might have been."
Fell? Concussion? But she'd been shot.
Dazed and confused, she answered his questions about her hearing and sight, about how much sensation and movement she had in her limbs. "Do you remember anything about how you were injured?"
She shook her head. She wasn't going to say what she remembered. It obviously didn't match the injuries she had. She fully remembered seeing Cole collapse while fighting Wynn's men. It terrified her to see him lying still on the floor and feel his mind retreating into nothing.
Where was Cole? She couldn't feel him. Her mind was heartbreakingly empty of his presence and she knew he was dead. What had Wynn done with Cole's body? It shouldn't make a difference, of course; Cole wouldn't know or feel whatever happened to his corpse but it mattered to Sam. She didn't want to think of the body she loved so much tossed into a ravine or landfill. Nausea filled her.
The doctor was smiling in sympathy, unaware of the path her thoughts were following. "I'm not surprised you don't remember what happened. It's very common to not remember an accident or even a good bit of time leading up to it." He made a note in the chart in his hand. "There was an explosion where you work."
All she could do was stare blankly at him. His words registered but they made no sense. Then it all fell horribly in place. His statement froze her soul. The squiggles on the heart monitor increased their rate. Sam nodded. She remembered. But that explosion had been weeks ago.
The hum and rush of blood through her veins and the bellows sound of her lungs couldn't destroy the silence inside her mind. She closed her eyes. She didn't need to worry about Cole's body or his murder any more. Cole wasn't dead, because he'd never been alive. Cole wasn't in her head anymore because he'd never really been there. It had been an illusion after all. The gentle thoughts and flaming desires she'd become so used to sharing were gone forever.
The doctor couldn't feel her anguish. His voice was hearty and pleased as he acknowledged how gratified he was she remembered that much. "That's excellent. You seem to be coming out of this quite well." He cleared his throat. "As I said, there was an explosion. You suffered a head injury. You've been unconscious for some time."
"How long?" she asked.
"At least an hour," the doctor answered.
She nodded and turned her head away, wondering how it was possible to live an entirely new life in an hour.
"Don't worry," the nurse said misinterpreting Sam's reaction to the news that she'd be fine. "We haven't found any neurological damage. You'll be back on your feet in no time." Her accent was as heavy as Lurleen's.
Sam simply nodded. No damage. Nope. Not a bit. The body would be just fine. She wasn't worried about whether or not she had brain trauma or would have problems later. Right now, she didn't particularly care.
No, there was no neurological damage, just the emotional damage caused by the destruction of a life and a love she'd mourn forever. It didn't matter if that life was a complete fantasy or that the person she loved most was no more than a phantom created by her own imagination.
She swallowed back a mouthful of bitterness. She couldn't, didn't dare tell anyone. How could she explain to them that she cried for a man that had never lived? Her heart ached for the sight of soft light dancing in violet eyes, the seductive sound of a cultured Irish accent, the too-talented touch of a lover's gentle hand, and the taste of sweet blood from his veins. She burned with a grief that she couldn't share with anyone, because she mourned what had never existed.
She barely noted the nurse leaving, absently answering the young woman's questions. No, she didn't want the TV on. No, she didn't need anything.
She only needed Cole.
She likewise barely noted the entrance of the doctor again. She didn't care about his opinion. She didn't want to know whether she'd be admitted to the hospital or not. She wanted to curl into a ball and stay there. She wanted to fall back into an endless sleep where she had a life that was as perfect as it was possible for a life to be. Here, there was nothing but mediocre emptiness.
"I think I can let your family back in now," the doctor was saying. "Now, I've instructed them that you tire easily and when I say the visit is over, it's over." He seemed to be trying to reassure her, for some reason. "Just let the nurse know if you start to feel too tired."
She was tired already. She was tired of this empty life. She just wanted them to all go away and leave her alone. There wasn't anyone here she wanted to be with. Alone: wasn't that all she had to look forward to anyway?
Sam turned her head toward the door. "Hello, Frank."
It had been a long time since Sam had seen such concern on Frank's tanned face. Years of west Texas sun, hard living, and harder partying had aged Frank Bailey far beyond the years his older sister wore more gracefully. The lines at the corners of his eyes and lips only increased his resemblance to their father. For once, that similarity didn't awaken grief in Sam's heart. It was already too full of new pain for an old one to intrude.
Lurleen, her pink and spangled party clothes still in place, trailed Sam's disheveled brother.
Sam accepted Lurleen's kiss and hug while Frank settled for squeezing his sister's hand. Sam wasn't surprised. If he wasn't fighting with her, he never quite knew what to say. Lurleen made up for Frank's taciturn nature, rattling off a series of questions for which she required no answer and explanations for which she required no comment. She reported all she knew about the explosion at work and who had been hurt and who had walked away unscathed. She insisted on knowing what Sam remembered about the explosion. Sam could tell it had already assumed capitalization status in Lurleen's mind. If her friend was disappointed by Sam's lack of interest or her apathetic answers, she didn't show it.
Sam wouldn't have been able to answer Lurleen even if she felt more like talking. Her memory was more than a little hazy and whatever medicine the doctor had given her dampened her senses. Work and that life seemed a very long time ago, over a month as far as Sam was concerned. It felt even longer than that.
Lurleen cooed over Sam's injury and murmured understanding of some mental vagueness. Sam doubted that Lurleen would believe her real reason for tentative answers. She was pretty sure that living a completely different life in your head didn't count as an acceptable reason for much of anything. Lurleen would just pat her hand and tell her it was a dream and Sam didn't want to hear that. She wanted to mourn Cole in peace.
But Lurleen's voice continued regardless of Sam's disinterest. She wished her friend would just shut up.
Sam suspected the meds were all that were keeping her from screaming. They didn't block the pain in the back of her head, but made her not care that it was there. But she still cared about the pain in her heart. If Frank and Lurleen didn't leave soon, she was going to break down and cry right in front of them.
The nurse reappeared and noted her pallor and the tremor in her voice and hands. Sam could tell the woman attributed it to stress and exhaustion. She frowned at Sam's visitors. She didn't seem very impressed by Lurleen's flamboyant club clothes or Frank's broken-down cowboy scruffiness. "Ms. Bailey needs to rest."
Visibly concerned for her patient, she politely requested the visitors leave as she dimmed the lights, promising they could resume their questioning when Sam had rested. Lurleen protested and the nurse reluctantly agreed they could stay if they refrained from talking and let Sam rest. "You need to let her rest. Don't get her excited. Just calm conversation once in a while, nothing emotional or overly stimulating."
Sam lay unmoving, letting the nurse do her interminable tests and measurements. She could think of nothing but Cole. Being able to supply a rational reason for her delusion and knowing he was only a fantasy didn't make her feel any better. She loved him and saw him die and now she was alone.
She blinked against stinging eyes and even the narcotics couldn't keep tears from trickling down her temples and onto her pillow.
Sam paid no attention when the nurse gathered up her accoutrements and prepared to leave. She likewise ignored the soft-voiced conversation the nurse had with Lurleen and Frank. More instructions on what they needed to do to assure Sam was okay. A soft knock on the door couldn't distract her attention from the blank ceiling above her. She closed her eyes. If she concentrated hard enough, she could nearly see Cole smiling. If she didn't, she could see him dying.
"I'm looking for Samantha Bailey. Is she here? Is she alright?"
Sam's thoughts froze. She hadn't heard correctly. It sounded like...She didn't dare look toward the source of that voice.
"Yes. She was awake a little bit ago. The doc says she's going to be okay." Lurleen's whisper was too loud and the nurse shushed her.
"Thank God." It was all there in two simple words: the layers of culture covering a faint Irish lilt. It was beautiful...and impossible.
Sam's eyes snapped open. A form as well loved as the voice she thought she'd never hear again stood outlined against the light coming through the partially open door. "Cole?"
"I don't think I know you. Are you a friend of..."
He was beside her instantly, ignoring Lurleen's half-formed questions.
Sam sat up, grabbing him, heedless of the IVs, electrodes, and sensors attacked to various spots on her body. "Cole!" she breathed. "Oh, God! Cole. It really is you."
"Well, of course. Didn't I promise I'd always be with you?" He enveloped her in a crushing embrace. "You look wonderful, my dearest darling. And I've never been so glad to hear anyone say my name in my entire life." His mouth roved over her hair, her face, covering her with delicate, desperate kisses.
His arms had never felt stronger or more wonderful wrapped around her. His voice, whispering in her ear, had never sounded so good. And his kisses had never tasted sweeter. It was a long time before his mouth left hers.
Finally, afraid he'd overtax her very weak, very human body, he laid her gently back on her pillow. "I've been looking for you everywhere. You were unconscious when they took you away. I was terrified you wouldn't come around," he said. "Thank God you're awake and lucid." He drew a deep breath. "I was afraid you wouldn't know me."
Her giggle was weak and watery. She held tightly to his hand as he settled himself more comfortable beside her on the bed, one lean hip propped on the rails. "Of course I know you. What's going on, Cole?"
He shook his head. "I don't know. I woke up in the wreckage of your office. It took me a few minutes but I dug you from under a pile of ceiling tiles. There were already emergency crews all over the place. They put you on a stretcher and brought you here. They wouldn't let me ride in the ambulance with you. It took forever to get here and then I couldn't find you. This place is a maze." He kissed her hand. "But that's alright now. I'm alive and you're alive. We're together and nothing else matters."
She nodded. "I thought... I saw..."
He put a finger over her lips. "I know. I remember being shot," he whispered. He blew out a long breath. "It's been damnably frightening wondering if you were going to be alright."
She squeezed his fingers weakly. "I was sure it was all a coma-induced dream," she admitted. "Oh God, Cole! I've been so scared since I woke up! I couldn't feel you."
He nodded and squeezed her fingers. "I was afraid that would happen when you awakened. I haven't been able to feel you, either. It's hellish." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "But that's neither here nor there. I'm here. You're here. You're going to fine. Anything else is incidental."
She nodded. He was right. It didn't matter how he ended up alive with her. She had never figured out how she fell into his world. It even made sense somehow that he was in hers. If it was her wish to help him when he was just a character in a novel that sent her into his life, then her far stronger need to erase his murder when he was her lover surely could transport them both here where they could love in safety. Whatever it was, they would figure it out together. In all honestly, she didn't care if they figured it out or not.
He leaned down and kissed her again, soft strong lips melding to hers before his tongue slipped easily into her mouth. She tasted him then, sparkling blood tinkling on her taste buds. He must have nicked his tongue before he kissed her.
And it's far past time that you felt me and I you.
His thoughts settled familiarly into hers and all her fears melted away. His plans for their future flowed into her. The diamonds he insisted they both carry even after she had a new credit card were safe in his pocket. They could go anywhere, do anything they wanted. But first he wanted to stand before a judge and swear he'd be her husband. It wasn't so much a proposal as an embodiment of what they both knew had to be.
It seems the Powers above believe that even romance-novel vampires deserve a second chance, my darling. He broke their kiss with lavender fire dancing in his eyes.
Lurleen made some small noise. He drew away and grinned a blinding smile that could only appear when the gravest of situations had been overcome. "Hello. You must be Lurleen." He held out his hand. "I'm Cole Grayson, Samantha's fiancé."
Her friend goggled while Frank frowned slightly and surveyed Cole closely. "Fiancé?" Frank's eyes were as big and round as Lurleen's. "I didn't think she even had a boyfriend."
Sam grinned as Lurleen opened her mouth and closed it a few times before she managed to squeak, "C...Cole Grayson?"
"Yes, exactly." He winked. "You were quite right when you spoke with her earlier this evening. Despite her protests to the contrary, Samantha was and is very much in love with me."
"But...but...we were talking about a book and you're obviously not a figment of someone's imagination." Lurleen made vague motions with her hands.
"No, I'm not, not anymore." Cole brought Sam's fingers to his lips for a brief kiss before he addressed Lurleen again though his eyes lingered on Sam. "You should be quite happy. Samantha took your advice to heart." His smile promised an eternity of kisses and shared thoughts. "After all, you told her she needed a real man."
About the Author
T. D. McKinney lives in north Texas with her husband and young daughter. Artist, author, career woman, web designer, mother, and wife, she manages keep busy. In her spare time, she shares her husband's interest in vampires, the Internet, science fiction, collecting swords, and all things Japanese.

