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Thorne drummed his fingertips on the sill. What was Sky doing now? Was she curled up in a chair, reading? It had been a pastime she had loved as a child. Watching TV, perhaps? Working in Paddy’s garden? Preparing lunch?
Frustration rose within him as a hunger he had not felt in years—a hunger aroused by a single drop of Sky’s blood—stirred deep within him. He slammed his palm against the wall. He had to find that damn formula!
Turning away from the window, he began to pace the floor. Desmarais had been in Paddy’s office, so Thorne had to assume that Desmarais had stolen the formula for the potion, but why? What effect did the concoction have on humans, if any?
At one time, Girard Desmarais had been a hunter without equal. Fearless, merciless, tenacious, he claimed to have taken more than two hundred heads before he had quit hunting and taken refuge in a monastery after the death of his wife.
It was rumored that Desmarais was a descendent of Abraham Van Helsing, the most famous slayer of them all. Generations of Van Helsings considered vampire hunting a sacred calling, sacrificing home, family, and livelihood to rid the world of the Undead. The monastery where Desmarais had taken refuge was believed to be a sanctuary for slayers who had grown too old to hunt, or who had lost their nerve.
Thorne had tangled with Desmarais in France some thirty-odd years ago and considered himself lucky to be alive today. He had not heard anything of Desmarais in more than twenty years. Desmarais had been old when Thorne knew him. Like everyone else, he had assumed Desmarais had passed away years ago.
One thing about Desmarais, old or young, the man knew how to carry a grudge. Desmarais held Thorne responsible for the death of his wife. It was true Thorne had killed Marie Desmarais, but hell, the woman hadn’t given him any other choice. She had been a hunter every bit as determined and ruthless as her husband. In the end, it had been her life or Thorne’s.
“So, Desmarais, my old friend,” he muttered, “where the hell are you now?”
He was still pondering that question later that night as he made his way down to the wine cellar.
Unlocking the safe, he withdrew the blue bottle with its priceless contents. For a moment, he simply held it in his hands, reluctant to drink the last of the precious liquid. How long would this dose last? There was no telling. Even though he always drank the same amount, the results varied. Some doses lasted several months, some only a few weeks. Paddy had been at a loss to explain the variation in the doses and, try as he might, the old man hadn’t been able to stabilize the formula. It hadn’t been a problem as long as Paddy was alive, but now ...
Swearing under his breath, Thorne lifted the bottle to his lips, grimacing as the foul-tasting liquid burned a path down his throat.
And then, drowning in despair, he hurled the bottle against the far wall, watching in anguish as it shattered into a million sparkling blue pieces and with it, the life he had come to know.
Chapter 5
Skylynn stood at the sink, staring out the window as she rinsed off the plate and glass she had used at lunch. She had called the police soon after Kaiden left. Two uniformed officers had arrived within the hour, taken a report, dusted for fingerprints, and said they would keep in touch.
She glanced at the clock, dismayed that it was barely four. Never had a day passed so slowly. She had tried all afternoon to come up with a good excuse to go across the street and see Kaiden, but every reason she came up with sounded more contrived than the one before.
After putting the dishes in the dishwasher, she turned the machine on, then went into the front room. Sitting in Granda’s squeaky rocker, she drummed her fingertips on the arms. What was Kaiden doing? What if she made a batch of chocolate chip cookies and took a dozen or so across the street? That would be a nice, neighborly gesture.
Lordy, she had it bad. Ever since coming home and seeing Kaiden again, she hadn’t been able to get him out of her mind. At fourteen, she had known he was a handsome man, but, like all teenagers, she had viewed anyone over thirty as having one foot in the grave.
At fifteen, she hadn’t fully realized how amazingly sexy he was, although just looking at him had made her feel warm all over. At the time, she had thought she was just embarrassed, but now she realized she had been unwittingly responding to his innate sexuality.
She was still responding to that air of sensuality, but now she recognized it for what it was. Just being near him caused all her hormones to sing a happy song. Those dark eyes, that incredibly sexy smile, that deep, whiskey-smooth voice that could coax the birds out of the trees. She could hardly wait to see him again. Just the thought of being close to him, hearing his voice say her name, made her stomach curl with anticipation and brought a smile to her face.
“Oh, for crying out loud, Skylynn, stop it! You’re practically engaged to another man.”
Ah, yes, Harry. She hadn’t thought about him more than once or twice since Kaiden arrived on the scene. She suddenly realized why she kept putting Harry off. Without consciously being aware of it, she had been comparing Harry to Kaiden. And there was just no contest, no way Harry could possibly win.
She rocked back and forth for a few minutes, then frowned as a horrible thought occurred to her. Had her marriage failed because Nick hadn’t measured up to Kaiden Thorne? Of course, to be fair, what man could? There was something about Kaiden that was lacking in other men, though, try as she might, she couldn’t quite put her finger on just what it was. It was more than his stunning good looks. After all, there were a lot of handsome men running around. Maybe it was the intensity of his gaze when he looked at her, as if she were the only woman on the planet. Maybe it was the husky, sexy quality in his voice when he spoke her name. Maybe it was the incredible attraction that sizzled between them whenever his gaze met hers. Whatever it was, she found him completely irresistible.
What was he doing now?
He seemed obsessed with finding the formula to Granda’s potion. Was it more than just a tonic? Some kind of medication, perhaps? What if Kaiden was sick and he needed Granda’s tonic to survive? That would explain why Kaiden was so desperate to find the missing ingredient.
She frowned as she thought about the man in the gray cloak. Did he have the same illness as Kaiden? Was that why he had stolen the formula? If the formula didn’t include the missing ingredient, would the man in the gray cloak come looking for it again? Mercy, that was a scary thought!
She needed to see Kaiden, needed to make sure he was all right. Once again, she searched her mind for some excuse to visit him and then smacked her forehead with her palm. She had the perfect excuse. He had offered to help her clean up the mess in Granda’s lab.
