Magic at Midnight Page 8

  “I’m fine, I’m fine.” She was panting. “I swear. You stopped in time.”

  “No. Too close. In the morning, I’m going to walk into the sun,” he said, his voice so ragged with determination it emerged as nothing more than a feral snarl. “There’s no other way. I’ll keep coming for you otherwise, I know I will.”

  In the next instant, he was gone.

  “Hunter. Hunter!” Weak, she lumbered to her feet. She screeched a transport spell, but it didn’t work. Her magic had weakened with her body.

  Genevieve scanned the forest. Where was he? Where had he gone? I’m going to walk into the sun, he’d said. “I’m okay. I survived. You didn’t hurt me, only weakened me a bit.” Not allowing herself to panic—yet—she stumbled through the trees. “Hunter, please!”

  Branches swayed on a gentle cascade of wind. Birds scattered, soaring into the night sky, their wings striped with every color of the rainbow. If morning came before she found him…

  “Hunter! Hunter!” She twirled as she shouted, still searching. Minutes passed. Horrendous, agonizing minutes.

  He never reappeared.

  * * *

  HUNTER made it to the caves in seconds. He’d moved so quickly that the world around him became a blur, that the five miles seemed like less than one.

  Barnabas was still there, still sitting on the dais. The cave walls were rocky and bare. Bleak. Like his emotions. Hunter didn’t know why he’d come here. Here, of all places. With this man. He simply hadn’t known where else to go. He’d bitten Genevieve and had almost drained her. If she hadn’t uttered his name… Shame coursed through him.

  “Couldn’t stay away, I see,” Barnabas said smugly.

  Dejected, Hunter wiped the sweet, magical blood from his mouth. “I’m walking into the sun, vampire. I’m too wretched to live.”

  “I told you the hunger would hit you, and you wouldn’t be able to control it.” Barnabas used his too sharp teeth to tug off one of his black gloves. “You should have listened to me, oui?” He tsked. “Now. Would you like to play a game of strip poker? I brought cards.”

  “No cards.” Hunter could still smell Genevieve on him, could still taste her mystical-flavored blood in his mouth. His hands clenched at his sides, and he found himself stepping toward the entrance, ready to go to her again. “Damn it.” He froze. “Morning can’t get here fast enough.”

  Barnabas sighed, and the sound dripped with dejection. “I’m going to lose you one way or the other, aren’t I? Through death or through your woman, and I think I would rather it be your woman.”

  Hunter’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

  “Sit down, and I will tell you a secret… .”

  * * *

  AT last giving way to her panic, Genevieve raced into the thankfully empty cemetery and gathered her clothes. Her neck ached; she didn’t care. Her fingers shaky, she tugged on the pants, the shirt. All of the gravesites were in complete disarray, dirt crumbled, headstones overturned. Where was Hunter? She had to find him before it was too late. Her fear intensified, joining ranks with her panic. Her gaze scanned the area until she found her broom. She hopped on it and commanded it to fly.

  It didn’t work. Fine.

  Holding on to it, she ran, just ran. By the time she reached the center of town, her lungs burned and her heart raced uncontrollably. People were in their yards and on the streets, cleaning up damage the demons had caused. No one paid her any heed.

  She spotted John Foster hiding behind a tree in his front yard, watching the lusciously ripe Candy Cox rake her garden. “Have any of you seen Hunter Knight?” Genevieve called.

  John squealed in horror and sprinted away.

  “No, sorry,” Candy replied with a frown. “Hunter’s dead, sugar. I doubt I’ll be seeing him for a while.”

  Panting, Genevieve ran to Knight Caps. She searched every room, every hidden corridor, but the place was empty. Nothing had been cleaned; everything was the same as on the night Hunter died. Overturned tables, liquor spilled on the floor. Pools of dried blood.

  She sprinted back outside and down the long, winding streets. Finally she reached the white picket fence surrounding her home. She pounded up the porch steps and shoved past the screen door, tossing her broom aside. “Godiva! Glory!” She was so short of breath she had trouble getting the words out.

  A few seconds later, Glory stumbled out of her room. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes. The buttercup yellow flannel pj’s she wore hung over her curves like a sack. “What’s going on?” She yawned. “Are you okay?”

  “Have you seen Hunter?”

  “No. I thought he was with you. What’s with his red eyes, anyway? Is he a demon?”

  She didn’t bother with an answer. “Where’s Godiva?”

  “In her room. With Romeo.”

  “Who?”

  “Romeo. Her wolf.” Glory stretched her arms over her head and gave another yawn. “I think they’re having sex. Again.”

  “Stop playing around and tell me where Godiva is. Please. I don’t have much time.”

  “I told you. In bed. Nice hickey, by the way.” Glory paused, her gaze skidding to the kitchen. “Oh, look. Doughnuts.” She breezed past Genevieve and headed into the kitchen, where a box of Krispy Kremes waited on the table.

  “Godiva!” Genevieve shouted. “Get out here right now.”

  The handle to Godiva’s bedroom rattled, then the door pushed open. Out toppled Godiva, tightening her robe around her middle. She wore an expression of concern, yet underneath the concern was utter satisfaction. “Is everything okay?”

  “Have you seen Hunter?”

  “No, I thought he was with you.”

  A warrior of a man stepped from the room and approached Godiva from behind. He wrapped his strong arms around her waist. Dark hair tumbled to his shoulders, framing a face of such golden-eyed beauty Genevieve found it difficult to believe he was real. Her mouth fell open as realization struck her. This was the injured wolf?

  “What’s going on, Evie? Is everything okay?” Godiva repeated. “Your neck is bleeding.”

  “Hunter is a vampire, and he plans to die with the morning sun. I have to find him. Can you transport me to him?” She covered her face with her hand, fighting tears. “I can’t let him kill himself.”

  “You know we can’t transport other people. I can transport myself, though, and—”

  “You are not transporting yourself in front of a vampire, Godiva,” Romeo said, his voice deep, gravelly. “We will search together. I can track humans—even dead ones—in ways you cannot.”

  Grateful, Genevieve nodded. She would have ridden on the broom with Godiva, but Godiva couldn’t find hers. “I must have left it in the graveyard,” her sister said. Genevieve still didn’t have the strength to fire hers up, and Glory couldn’t hold both of them. They walked.

  They kept pace beside Romeo, who took wolf form. They ended up searching all night, stopping only to drink. No one had seen Hunter, and only a few people seemed surprised that they were asking about a dead guy.

  Finally, only thirty minutes till sunrise, Romeo caught a trace of him. “This way.”

  “Hurry. Hurry.” She wanted to scream in relief, in frustration, in agony. But when Romeo led them back to her house, she did scream. “Damn it! Why did you bring us here? He’s—” She gasped as her gaze snagged on the man standing on her porch.

  “Genevieve,” he said starkly.

  “Hunter? Hunter!” With a cry, she raced to him.

  •Eight•

  HUNTER opened his arms and welcomed Genevieve as she threw herself at him. He twirled her around, reveling in her luscious female scent, the soft curves of her body.

  “Where have you been?” she demanded. “You stupid, stupid man. I’ve been so worried about you. You didn’t hurt me out there, okay? You didn’t hurt me. You stopped in time.”

  “I could have hurt you, and that was enough reason to die.” He pulled back and cupped her face in his han
ds. Would he ever get enough of this woman?

  Tears streamed down her face. “Why are you here, then? Why?”

  “I talked to Barnabas. His creator hated and feared blood, like me, so he took something called a blood-appetite suppressant. I didn’t think it’d work, but I took it and my cravings went away. I won’t hurt you now. I know it sounds too good to be true,” he rushed on, “but it’s true. Trust me not to hurt you. Please. I want to be with you.”

  “Why do you want to be with me?” she interjected. In that moment, her relief and joy overflowed, but she needed to hear the words.

  His expression became tender. “I kept picturing your face and I began to realize that even in death, you would haunt me. I began to realize that leaving you would be more vile than drinking from you. I began to realize that I couldn’t leave you again. You’re my reason for being. You’re my everything.”

  She blinked through her tears, barely daring to breathe.

  “Will you have me, Genevieve Tawdry? Vampire that I am?”

  “With all of my heart.” Laughing, she kissed him over and over again. Loving kisses, happy kisses. Relieved kisses.

  Hunter hugged her fiercely. That laugh of hers… glorious, uninhibited, he would never get enough of it. “I want you. I want you naked.”

  “Uh, Genevieve,” came a female voice.

  Genevieve’s cheeks reddened, and she pressed her lips together. She’d forgotten about their audience, he realized with satisfaction, just as he had.

  “Hunter, you know my sisters.”

  He nodded in their direction, but his eyes were only for Genevieve. “Godiva. Glory. Nice to see you again.” His fingers played with the silky soft hair at the base of Genevieve’s neck. He couldn’t stop touching her. He still didn’t like the fact that he was a vampire. He still didn’t like that he had to drink blood, even though the cravings could be controlled. But he would put up with anything to be with his Genevieve.

  “You, too,” they said simultaneously.

  “The man with Godiva is Romeo,” she said breathlessly. Her eyes closed and a look of rapture blanketed her expression. “You can meet him later.”

  Romeo nodded in acknowledgment. He placed a protective arm around Godiva, as if Hunter might leap off the porch and attack at any moment. Hunter tried not to take offense. He had better get used to people fearing him.

  “Hunter and I are going to my room,” Genevieve said. “To, uh, talk.”

  “Dirty,” Glory added.

  He allowed Genevieve to take his hand and lead him inside, down a hallway and into her room. It was a neat, tidy space with everything color-coded and organized. The bed was made for sin, however. Black silks, crimson pillows. Cerulean velvets. “You want to talk?” he asked with a chuckle.

  Her lips lifted in a sensual grin that caused his stomach to clench. She hurriedly secured all of the drapes over the windows so that when the sun rose, it wouldn’t hurt him. “We can talk while you’re inside me.” She raced to him and tugged at his clothes. “I need you so desperately.”

  He slipped her shirt over her head, then pushed her pants to her ankles. She stepped out of them, completely naked. The sight of her naked beauty almost made him come, right then, right there. Supple curves, ripe nipples, milky skin. The long length of her dark hair provided a mesmerizing contrast.

  “I can’t wait,” he said raggedly.

  “No waiting,” she agreed.

  He took her quickly, with all the urgency he felt inside. Filled as he was with blood and the suppressant, he didn’t have the slightest urge to bite her—except in pleasure. They rolled atop the bed, panting, growling, straining. Her breasts filled his hands. Her legs anchored around him as he pounded in and out.

  “Hunter,” she screamed as a sharp peak tore through her. He felt every spasm and it fueled his own.

  He spilled inside her with a loud roar.

  Someone banged at the wall. “Enough already,” he heard one of her sisters say. Glory, most likely. Godiva was probably otherwise occupied. He chuckled into Genevieve’s neck. Nope. He still didn’t want to bite her. Relief consumed him.

  Playfully she bit his collarbone. “I love you so much.”

  Her words filled his mind as surely as he’d filled her body. Even his heart stopped beating—or maybe it had never started up again after his death. Women had said those words to him before, but he’d never felt them in his bones. Even Genevieve had said them before. He’d never returned them.

  “I love you, too, sweetheart.”

  She sucked in a slight intake of breath. “Do you really?”

  “I’ve loved you from the first moment I saw you.”

  “Then why did you push me away for so long?” she asked with a frown. “You never really answered that question.”

  He placed a sweet kiss on her temple. “Sweetheart, the answer doesn’t matter anymore. Let’s just—”

  “Please. Tell me.”

  Unable to deny her anything, he explained. As he spoke, she paled. Tremors reverberated through her by the time he finished. “You should have told me the truth years ago,” she said. “I would have left you alone.”

  “I know, and that’s exactly why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to leave me alone. I loved you too damn much.”

  “What a pair we make, hmm? The dead man and the witch.”

  He chuckled. Life—or death, rather—was ripe with promise. He was happier than he’d ever been and he owed it all to the sweet, sweet witch in his arms. “I’m looking forward to spending eternity with you.”

  Slowly she smiled. “Eternity with Hunter Knight. Now that’s something I can look forward to.”

  A Tawdry Affair

  To P. C. Cast, Susan Grant, and MaryJanice Davidson.

  Or, as we would probably be named inside of Mysteria:

  P. C. Sweetbottoms, Susan Buttercup, and MaryJanice Sugarlips.

  (Maybe I’d be Gena Dinglehop—that’s wait-and-see, though.)

  To Wendy McCurdy and Allison Brandau for putting up with me!

  •One•

  IF Glory Tawdry discovered her sister, Evie, and Evie’s vampire boyfriend going at it like wild cougars one more time—just one more!—she was going to throw up a lung, gouge out her eyes, and cut off her ears.

  “You’re disgusting,” she grumbled, standing in Evie’s open bedroom door. Her sister and Hunter must have severe discovery fantasies, because they always “forgot” to barricade themselves inside when things were getting heated.

  They didn’t even glance in her direction.

  She coughed.

  They continued.

  Sadly, if Glory walked down the hallway of their modest little three-bedroom home, she’d probably hear her other sister, Godiva, going at it with her boyfriend, a werewolf shape-shifter. They, at least, liked privacy when they were screaming like hyenas.

  Still. There was no peace to be found for Glory. Not even in town. Lately Mysteria, a place once known for its evil creature population, as well as a place she’d taken great pride in, had turned into a horrifying love fest of goo-goo eyes and butt pinching.

  Except for me. No one makes goo-goo eyes at me. No one pinches my butt, even though there’s enough for everyone to grab on to at the same time. She didn’t care, though. Really.

  Men and relationships were so not for her. Really.

  “Hello,” she said, trying again. “I’m right here. Can you stop for like a minute?”

  Thankfully Evie and Hunter finished their show and collapsed side by side under the covers. Moonlight spilled from the beveled windows and onto the bed, painting them in gold. Both were panting, sweat glistening from their skin. Evie’s dark hair was spread over the pillow and tangled under Hunter’s arm. Vitality radiated from her.

  Handsome Hunter looked exhausted and incapable of movement.

  Score one for Evie, Glory supposed.

  “Oh, Glory.” Evie grinned, happiness sparkling in her hazel eyes. “I didn’t see you there.”
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  Ugh. Evie did everything happily now, and Glory was seriously embarrassed for her. Evie was the greatest vengeance witch ever to live in Mysteria. As such, she should scowl once in a while. Glory was the love witch, damn it, so Glory should be the happy one.

  “Don’t you know how to knock?” her sister asked.

  Are you freaking kidding me? “Don’t you know how to close a door? I mean, it’s a difficult task to master, but with hard work and the proper training, I think you might be able to do it.”

  Hunter laughed, revealing long, sharp teeth.

  “Ha-ha.” Evie punched him on the shoulder.

  When Evie said no more, Glory shook her head in disappointment. Used to, they would have argued and insulted each other, maybe yelled and thrown things. Now, she was lucky if Evie frowned at her.

  A dysfunctional relationship it had been, but it had been theirs.

  “I miss us!” she found herself saying. “You’re a softie now, and it’s killing my excitement levels.”

  Understanding dawned, and Evie scowled. Even pointed an accusing finger at her. “Seriously, what’s up with you, little sis? Every day I think you can’t possibly get any bitchier, and then you go and prove me wrong.”

  Much better! Life was suddenly worth living again. “Lookit, you show pony, I need your help.”

  “Yeah? With what?” Unable to retain the harsh expression, Evie gave her another smile.

  As always, that satisfied smile caused a deep ache to sprout inside Glory’s chest. When will it be my turn to fall in love, have great sex, and sicken the people around me? The moment the thought drifted through her mind, she blinked in shock and revulsion. Whoa, girl. That line of BS has to stop. Like, now. Before you crave more.

  She was a love witch, yes, but she didn’t want to fall in love. Ever. People became slobbering fools when they succumbed to the soft emotion. Look at Evie! Proof right there in all her glowing splendor.

  “I’m waiting,” Evie said.