Night's Mistress (Children of the Night) (9 page)

She glanced at the book again. So many names to choose from—common names, like John and Mary, exotic names like Kamenwati and Cleopatra. She sighed as she thought of Egypt’s ancient queen. She had been with Cleopatra in the throne room when Octavian came to tell the queen what her fate would be. Later, Cleopatra’s ladies-in-waiting had hovered around their queen, their expressions anxious. That had been the night Mara had offered to work the Dark Trick on the queen of Egypt, but Cleopatra had refused.

“Antony is dead,” the queen had murmured. “My son is dead. Why would I want to live forever?”

Mara hadn’t pressed the issue. Cleopatra had set her face toward death and she had accomplished it with the same flair she had exhibited in life. In dying, she had robbed Octavian of his prize. It was her last victory over a hated enemy.

Ah, Cleopatra, one of the few women Mara had considered her equal. If her child was a girl, she would name her after the Queen of the Nile. And if it was a boy . . . ? She turned to the section listing boys’ names again and thumbed through the pages. Aaron, Benjamin, Clyde, Daniel, Ezekiel. She shook her head. Nicholas, Obadiah, Parker, Quennel.

“Quennel?” she muttered. No way. If it was a boy, she should probably just name him after his father.

Blowing out a sigh, she rested her head on the back of the sofa and closed her eyes. She wasn’t fit to be a mother. She had never been around children, or wanted any. She supposed she took after her own mother, who had given birth to Mara and abandoned her five years later. If one of Pharaoh’s servants hadn’t found Mara scavenging in the marketplace, she probably wouldn’t have survived. She had been strong once, indomitable, always in control. Now she felt helpless, awash with doubts. Not for the first time, she asked herself how she could take care of a child when she couldn’t take care of herself. She was just now learning to cook, and not doing a very good job of it.

She couldn’t even drive a car, but then, she had never felt the need to learn. As a vampire, she had been able to move faster than any motorized vehicle. But those days were gone. Perhaps, when she felt better, she would ask Logan to teach her. How hard could it be, anyway? After all, she couldn’t expect him to drive her everywhere, nor did she like being dependent on him, or anyone else. As a vampire, she had done as she pleased, when she pleased. She had been self-sufficient then; it was time she regained her independence. Being able to drive would be a step in the right direction. Everyone did it, from pimply-faced teenagers to white-haired octogenarians. And she was going to be a mother now. Mothers drove their kids to the doctor, to school, to soccer games. She shied away from those images. She wasn’t planning on keeping the baby, but she definitely needed to learn to drive. But not today.

Lost in an abyss of self-pity, she wasn’t aware that Logan had returned until he sat down beside her. That, too, was scary for someone who had once been able to sense another’s presence before they appeared.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “You look like you’re about to cry.”

The word
again
hung, unspoken, in the air between them.

“I am.”

“What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

“No, I’m just . . .” She shrugged. “Just hopelessly helpless.”

“You’re not hopeless. As for helpless . . . Honey, you just need to learn how to be human again.” He lifted both hands in a gesture of surrender when she glowered at him. “I know, I know, you don’t want to be human, but you’d better get used to the idea, at least for the time being. Are you taking your vitamins like a good girl and drinking lots of milk?”

“Yes,” she replied sullenly.

Logan laughed. She sounded more like a petulant child than a woman who had lived for thousands of years, and then he sobered. Even though she had lived for centuries, she had been turned while she was still a young woman. Now that her powers were gone, she was that young woman again. Wiser than most, to be sure, but with the loss of her powers, she had also lost her arrogance. She was human now, with all the female ailments and foibles that Mara the vampire had shed years ago.

With a thoughtful sigh, he gathered her into his arms. Stroking her hair, he couldn’t help missing the spoiled, strong-willed woman he had fallen in love with so many centuries ago.

 

Lou was waiting outside Ramsden’s office building when Cindy got off work. Lou gave her sister a quick hug, and then they walked across the street to Cindy’s favorite steakhouse.

“How was the drive?” Cindy asked after they had been seated.

“A breeze. How’s Dwayne?”

“Working late, as always. I think I saw him more before we got married.” Cindy’s husband was a detective for the local police department. He had no idea that his fair-haired, diminutive wife was a vampire hunter, or that her employer was a vampire.

“Sorry, sis. So, what’s the low-down on Mara? Is she really knocked-up, or were you just pulling my chain?”

“No, she’s definitely pregnant,” Cindy said. “About five months along by now. Amazing, isn’t it? Ramsden’s so excited, he’s almost bouncing off the walls.”

“I’ll bet.”

“He’s fixing up a room in the basement. At first I thought it was a nursery, but now I think it’s a delivery room. He hasn’t confided in me, but I caught a few bits and pieces of a conversation he had with Susan before I left tonight. I think he’s planning to keep the child for himself, if it lives.”

“That doesn’t bode well for the mother, does it?”

“No. I can’t be sure . . .” Cindy fell silent as a waitress came to take their order. When she left, Cindy leaned forward. “As I was saying, I can’t be sure, since I’m not privy to Ramsden’s private files, but something’s not right with Mara. I’m not sure what it is.”

“What do you mean, not right? Is she sick?”

“I don’t know. But something’s out of whack, or she wouldn’t be pregnant, would she?”

Lou nodded. That was true enough.

The waitress arrived with a basket of warm bread and their drink orders. “Your steaks will be right up.”

Lou nodded her thanks as she buttered a slice of bread. “I could make a meal out of this.”

“You and me both. So,” Cindy said, reaching into the basket, “who do you think the father is? It can’t be another vampire, can it?”

“I doubt it. It’s got to be a mortal, and I think I know who he is.”

“Who?”

“His name is Kyle Bowden. He hired me to find Mara. Just find her. Not stake her.”

“You didn’t agree to that, did you?”

“As a matter of fact, I did . . .”

“Lou, what were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that once I reunite him with Mara, the job is over and it’s open season on Mara. It would be quite a coup, to take her head. And if it turns out that Bowden really is the father, then I’m thinking he’ll have to be taken out of the picture, too.”

“Of course,” Cindy said. “But, well, what about the baby? You don’t mean to kill it, too?”

Lou squared her shoulders. “A vampire is a vampire.”

“But, Lou, a baby . . . I don’t think . . .”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s the old ‘would you have killed Hitler when he was a baby’ argument. I don’t have an answer to that one, either.” Lou blew out a breath. “I’ve got to find Mara first . . .”

“Lou, I know how you hate vampires. I do, too. But you can’t kill an innocent child. It might not even be a vampire . . .”

“All right, all right!” Lou threw up her hands in surrender. “I won’t do anything until the brat’s born. But I’m not promising anything after that.”

 

Mara sat on the sofa, watching a cooking show on the satellite screen. The chef was a plump, middle-aged woman with poufy brown hair and a strong New York accent. Judging from the woman’s behavior, one would think that her every thought was about food and food preparation. In the last month, Mara had watched a number of cooking programs and home decorating shows in an effort to learn how to behave like a mortal woman. The truth was, as much as she enjoyed mortal food, she hated cooking, probably because she wasn’t very good at it. So far, practically everything she had tried to prepare either came out woefully undercooked or burnt to a crisp. She didn’t think she would ever get the hang of baking or frying or broiling. Of course, some of the directions and ingredients remained a mystery to her, reminding her that she needed to download a cookbook.

Logan watched her culinary attempts with amused forbearance. He praised her few successes and politely ignored the stink of her failures.

No, she definitely didn’t like cooking. Far easier to order in, or go to one of the fast-food places for take-out. Strangely, even though she no longer had a taste for blood, she missed the thrill of the hunt, the rapid beat of her prey’s heart, the sense of power that came with holding another’s life in her thrall.

With a sigh of exasperation, she switched off the screen. Was this how mortal women spent their days: cooking and cleaning and watching silly soap operas? She didn’t like being human, didn’t like being awake and active during the day. The sun was too bright, its light too warm. She had tried sleeping during the day so she could stay up late into the night and early morning with Logan, but her body refused to adjust. By midnight, she could scarcely keep her eyes open.

And she was bored. Even though Logan had a large house, it didn’t take much effort to keep it clean. He was very tidy, for a man. He didn’t leave his dirty socks on the floor, didn’t expect her to pick up after him. Not that she would have minded, she thought wryly. It would have given her one more thing to do.

She glanced at the clock. It wasn’t even four o’clock. Logan wouldn’t be up for another two or three hours. Maybe she needed a mortal friend, someone to talk to. It was a totally foreign concept. Except for Cleopatra, she had never had a female friend. She’d had acquaintances, of course, but for most of her life, Mara had preferred the company of men.

And now she was living with one of the most handsome creatures—man or vampire—she had ever known. When she had been a vampire, mortal men had been drawn to her without knowing why. Attracting them had never been a problem. A smile, a come-hither look, and they had hurried to her side, eager to do her bidding, grateful for a kind word, a touch. Would men find her equally attractive now that she was human? She smiled, remembering the clerk and the box boy at the market. They had certainly enjoyed looking at her.

Curious, she went upstairs. In the bedroom, she removed her clothes and studied her reflection in the full-length mirror Logan had bought her. She was pretty, her skin clear, her hair long and thick and black, her eyes a deep, dark green beneath delicately arched brows. She fisted her hands on her hips and turned from side to side. Her figure, always slim, was just beginning to show the signs of pregnancy.

Was she as pretty as she had been when she wore the glamour of a vampire? Would Kyle think so?

Not wanting to dress again, she slipped into a pair of pajama bottoms and a soft cotton T-shirt and went downstairs. In the living room, she switched on the satellite screen, thinking how tiresome it was to have to use a remote device when she had once been able to operate the screen with little more than a thought.

She flipped through the channels until she found a romantic movie. She watched intently for several minutes and then turned it off. None of the silly ploys used in the movie would ever work on Logan. He wasn’t a mortal man who could be manipulated by feminine wiles, but a powerful vampire. A vampire who was almost as powerful as she had once been.

Going to the window, she pulled back the heavy drapes and studied her reflection in the dark glass. The one thing she hadn’t liked about being a vampire was her inability to see herself in a mirror. Now, she found herself staring at her image at every opportunity. As a vampire, she’d had her portrait painted every twenty-five years or so. The artists changed. The backgrounds changed, fashions changed, but she had always looked the same.

Lifting a hand to her cheek, she murmured, “I’m still pretty.”

“You’re more than pretty,” confirmed a deep voice from behind her. “You’re beautiful. More beautiful than any woman I’ve ever known.”

His words filled her with warmth. “Thank you, Logan.” He moved closer, his arms sliding around her waist as he nuzzled the side of her neck. “So beautiful. I can’t look at you without wanting to touch you, taste you, make love to you.”

She leaned against him. There was something reassuring about the strength of his arms around her, something comforting in the way his breath caressed her cheek, the hard wall of his chest at her back. His hand slid over her hip, his fingers splaying over the swell of her belly.

“I’ve never been with a pregnant woman before,” he said, his voice husky. “I find it incredibly sexy to think that you’re carrying a new life. Think of it, Mara. You’re doing something none of our kind has ever done before. I wish . . .”

She turned in his arms to face him. “What do you wish?”

“I wish it was mine.”

She stared up at him. “Logan . . .”

“Pretty silly, huh?”

“No.” Rising on her tiptoes, she kissed his cheek. “I wish it was yours, too,” she whispered, and at that moment, she meant it. Logan wanted her. He didn’t care if she was vampire or mortal. He had loved her when she was the world’s most powerful vampire; he loved her now, when she was weak and helpless and afraid of what the future might hold.

She gazed deep into his eyes, eyes that smoldered with desire. He wanted her and right or wrong, she wanted him, needed him to restore her faith in herself. She thought briefly of Kyle. What was the point in yearning for a man who didn’t want her? Would she be yearning for him if she had been the one to walk out? Maybe, like Scarlett O’Hara’s determined pursuit of Ashley Wilkes, she only wanted Kyle because she couldn’t have him.

Logan caressed her cheek, calling her back to the present. He was here now, and he loved her, had loved her for centuries. She didn’t know what she would have done without him these past months. True, he could be bossy and overbearing, but no matter what she said or how badly she behaved, she knew Logan would never turn his back on her.

“Mara.” His gaze searched hers. Slowly, giving her plenty of time to turn away, he lowered his head and claimed her lips with his. His kiss was tentative. Not a demand, but a request. When she didn’t pull away, he deepened the kiss, until his need, his desire, were her own. His tongue tangled with hers, sending heat straight to her very center.

She groaned softly. She should pull away, tell him no, but her body refused to obey her mind. She tried to summon Kyle’s image, but the touch of Logan’s mouth on hers drove away every other thought, every other desire except her need for Logan. His hands spanned her hips, drawing her against his erection and she leaned into him, her breasts crushed against his chest, her arms wrapped around his neck. Like a bit of flotsam caught in the ocean at flood tide, she was helpless to resist the desires of her own heart, the longing that burned away every thought but one.

Swinging her up into his arms, he carried her into his bedroom, his mouth never leaving hers. Placing her on the bed, he continued to kiss her as his hands, his quick clever hands, made short work of their clothing.

And then he was lying beside her, his dark eyes burning into her own. “Do you know how many times I’ve dreamed of this? Of having you here, in my bed, in my arms?”

His hand slid beneath her head, his fingers threading through her hair as his mouth descended on hers once again. There was no gentleness in this kiss, only the hunger of a man who loved a woman to distraction and was afraid he would lose her again, all too soon.

His mouth plundered hers. He was the predator and she was prey and he drank from her lips as he longed to drink her life’s essence. His body trembled with the effort to hold back. Reining in his desire, he kissed and caressed her as he murmured love words to her in a dozen languages.

Mara moaned with pleasure as his touch reawakened places within her that no other man had ever stirred. She murmured his name, her hands skimming restlessly over his back, his shoulders. She ran her teeth along his neck, tears burning her eyes as she trembled on the brink.

“Logan . . .” She whispered his name. “Now, Logan . . .”

She clung to him, weeping softly as his body merged with hers, sweeping her away to another place, another time, when he had been her willing slave and she had been the queen of her world . . .

She came back to earth slowly, her face buried in the hollow of Logan’s shoulder, more confused than she had ever been in her life. If she truly loved Kyle, how could she find such pleasure, such contentment, in Logan’s arms? Of course, Logan wasn’t an ordinary man. She tried to tell herself that she had been helpless to resist him, that he had seduced her with his innate charm and preternatural power, but she knew it wasn’t so. He had wanted her and she had wanted him. It was as simple as that.

She stared up at the ceiling, wondering again if it was possible to be in love with two men at the same time. It wasn’t, she decided. It was just that Kyle’s leaving had wounded her pride, made her doubt her femininity. She had been feeling vulnerable and alone and she had turned to Logan for comfort and reassurance, or maybe making love to Logan was her way of getting back at Kyle for leaving her. Whatever the reason, it had been wonderful, comfortable, familiar. No doubt she would feel guilty tomorrow, she thought, but for now . . .

“Oh!” Sitting up, she splayed her fingers over her belly.

“What is it?” Logan asked. “Are you in pain?”

“The baby . . .” She looked at him, her eyes wide with wonder. “It moved.” She grabbed his hand and placed it over her stomach. “Can you feel that?”

Logan swore softly as he felt a faint flutter beneath his hand. Mara’s child, alive and kicking. It was the most miraculous thing he had ever experienced. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” she replied, her voice tinged with awe. “It feels . . . amazing.”

She had never looked more beautiful to him than she did in that moment, with her cheeks flushed with excitement and her eyes filled with wonder. And he had never been more envious of a mortal than he was of Kyle Bowden.

“I’m really pregnant,” she said, slipping back down beside him. “Logan, I’m going to be a mother.”

“Yes,” he muttered dryly. “I know.”

She had bought a calendar a few days ago and penciled in the due date the doctor had given her. Until now, it had stood for the day when this part of her nightmare would be over and she could pursue her dream of becoming a vampire again. But now it meant so much more. For the first time, the child she carried was more than an inconvenience. It was real, a living being growing inside of her.

Logan put his arms around her and drew her close to his side. Gazing into her eyes, he felt his throat thicken with emotion. In all the years since she had turned him, he had never looked back, never lamented the life he had lost. The most miserable people he knew were those who were forever looking backward, longing for something they could never recapture. He had accepted being a vampire along with everything it entailed but now, seeing the joy in Mara’s eyes, he regretted the fact that he would never know the thrill of holding a child of his own.

“A baby,” she murmured. “We’ll have a baby in October.”

Logan grunted softly, and then he chuckled. “If it’s a vampire, it’s gotta be born on Halloween.”

“I don’t see how it can be a vampire,” Mara said, her brow furrowed. “Kyle is human, and I must have been more human than vampire when I conceived.”

“I guess so,” Logan said. “But I’m still hoping she comes on Halloween.”

“She?” she asked, poking him in the ribs.

Logan shrugged. “Or he.” He kissed her, his hands delving into her hair, loving the way the silky strands curled around his fingers. He had never known a woman with such beautiful hair. He took a deep breath, inhaling the musky scent of her skin. That quickly, he wanted her again.

“It’s a boy. I just know it,” she said, smiling. “Can we go to the bookstore?”

“Why?”

“I need to buy some books on child rearing and cooking and . . . everything!”

His hand slid along the curve of her breast. “Now?” “Yes, now! I have so much to learn.”

“You can find it all online tomorrow.”

“I don’t like reading on the computer.”

“Mara . . .”

But she wasn’t listening. She was already out of bed, pulling on her discarded clothing, looking for her shoes.

With a sigh, Logan went into the bathroom. Before they went anywhere, he needed a shower. The colder, the better.