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Authors: Denise K. Rago
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Michel. How could he have no memory of his best friend? Christian could not bear it. He surrendered the lantern to Gabrielle as she gestured for him to lie down in the hay. Christian closed his eyes as the cold lips of his best friend brushed his cheek and Michel touched his face.
“Come with me.” He whispered, and Christian could no more resist his words than he could resist the life Michel promised him.
As he headed down Fifth Avenue, the beauty of the snow glistening on the sidewalks reflected off his white skin. He could not help but wonder what had come over him, playing such a foolish game with Amanda. Initiating more contact between them only made his job harder, yet he sensed that they were already here, lying in wait for her.
Which vampire would come this time? Would Gaétan volunteer? Christian could not imagine Solange letting him out of her bed long enough to come to New York City. There were so many nameless ones competing for the chance to woo her. There were so many young ones with no sense of propriety or honor; vampires who would kill a mortal for no reason other than the joy of it. Enticing Amanda was not protecting her. But the temptation to play such a stupid game was too much, and he could not help wondering if she had found the box of matches he had dropped in Ross’s office. Would she put the pieces together and come after him?
God forgive me for hoping so.
Chapter Eight
A MANDA ENTERED THE tiny midtown apartment she shared with Bethany. She had decided to make a quick dinner of pasta and a salad, and then try to nap before hitting the club scene later. Bethany had agreed to accompany her to the Grey Wolf tonight rather than go out for a drink with her boyfriend Jeff. If Christian was there, Amanda promised herself she would find him.
She flipped on the television and ate dinner on the sofa while catching up on the news. Bethany would not be home until at least nine o’clock. It was the beginning of tax season, and already she was putting in fourteen hour days. Amanda loved their cozy apartment, filled with eclectic used furniture, lots of stereo equipment, and shelves of books.
Family photographs, old maps of Paris, botanical prints, and several framed posters featuring French exhibitions at the Metropolitan Museum of Art hung on the sea green walls. An antique black-and-green Oriental rug covered the hardwood floor. Potted plants occupied the floor space in front of the living room windows, and Bethany’s exercise bike and free weights sat in one corner.
Amanda slipped off her high heels and rested her feet on the coffee table as she wolfed down dinner. She glanced down at the matchbox resting on the coffee table. She was sure Ross was hiding something from her. Thank God for that old sixth sense again, Amanda. Ever since childhood, the random thoughts of others flashed into her mind as if they were being broadcast, like radio waves. She had never told anyone except Bethany and Ryan about it. He had laughed in her face.
Only years later she found out that he had a similar ability to read information from thoughts or objects. She guessed that the fear of his gifts made her brother try to hide them, first with marijuana and then heroin.
Then there was Christian. The stranger she had been searching for ever since that horrible night in Central Park. She had been hoping to see him again, trying to find him when suddenly he appeared in her life. How did he and Ross know each other? Amanda did not believe in accidents. Things happened for a reason she always told herself, until Ryan’s death. What purpose had been served by his death? The shock of it still haunted her. She often woke in the night in a cold sweat from dreams of fighting off the monster that had killed him.
Amanda’s mind drifted back to the night in the tunnel when Christian had come toward her, his hypnotic gaze moving over her.
He was much more handsome in person than she remembered him being the night in the park.
“Come with me.” He whispered, and Christian could no more resist his words than he could resist the life Michel promised him.
As he headed down Fifth Avenue, the beauty of the snow glistening on the sidewalks reflected off his white skin. He could not help but wonder what had come over him, playing such a foolish game with Amanda. Initiating more contact between them only made his job harder, yet he sensed that they were already here, lying in wait for her.
Which vampire would come this time? Would Gaétan volunteer? Christian could not imagine Solange letting him out of her bed long enough to come to New York City. There were so many nameless ones competing for the chance to woo her. There were so many young ones with no sense of propriety or honor; vampires who would kill a mortal for no reason other than the joy of it. Enticing Amanda was not protecting her. But the temptation to play such a stupid game was too much, and he could not help wondering if she had found the box of matches he had dropped in Ross’s office. Would she put the pieces together and come after him?
God forgive me for hoping so.
Chapter Eight
A MANDA ENTERED THE tiny midtown apartment she shared with Bethany. She had decided to make a quick dinner of pasta and a salad, and then try to nap before hitting the club scene later. Bethany had agreed to accompany her to the Grey Wolf tonight rather than go out for a drink with her boyfriend Jeff. If Christian was there, Amanda promised herself she would find him.
She flipped on the television and ate dinner on the sofa while catching up on the news. Bethany would not be home until at least nine o’clock. It was the beginning of tax season, and already she was putting in fourteen hour days. Amanda loved their cozy apartment, filled with eclectic used furniture, lots of stereo equipment, and shelves of books.
Family photographs, old maps of Paris, botanical prints, and several framed posters featuring French exhibitions at the Metropolitan Museum of Art hung on the sea green walls. An antique black-and-green Oriental rug covered the hardwood floor. Potted plants occupied the floor space in front of the living room windows, and Bethany’s exercise bike and free weights sat in one corner.
Amanda slipped off her high heels and rested her feet on the coffee table as she wolfed down dinner. She glanced down at the matchbox resting on the coffee table. She was sure Ross was hiding something from her. Thank God for that old sixth sense again, Amanda. Ever since childhood, the random thoughts of others flashed into her mind as if they were being broadcast, like radio waves. She had never told anyone except Bethany and Ryan about it. He had laughed in her face.
Only years later she found out that he had a similar ability to read information from thoughts or objects. She guessed that the fear of his gifts made her brother try to hide them, first with marijuana and then heroin.
Then there was Christian. The stranger she had been searching for ever since that horrible night in Central Park. She had been hoping to see him again, trying to find him when suddenly he appeared in her life. How did he and Ross know each other? Amanda did not believe in accidents. Things happened for a reason she always told herself, until Ryan’s death. What purpose had been served by his death? The shock of it still haunted her. She often woke in the night in a cold sweat from dreams of fighting off the monster that had killed him.
Amanda’s mind drifted back to the night in the tunnel when Christian had come toward her, his hypnotic gaze moving over her.
He was much more handsome in person than she remembered him being the night in the park.
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