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He paused in the shadows as the scent of prey drifted on the wind.
Like a lion on the trail of fresh blood, he turned toward the scent, his fangs lengthening in response to the steady beat of a living heart, the irresistible smell of fresh, hot blood.
Chapter 8
Girard Desmarais paced the basement floor of the monastery, his long gray cloak billowing behind him like the shadow of death. He muttered under his breath, his frustration growing, as he read the blasted formula again and again. He had followed McNamara’s instructions to the letter. Every herb and spice had been picked at the peak of freshness and properly dried; each ingredient, both liquid and dry, had been painstakingly measured to make sure they were exact. And still the blasted concoction did not ferment as it should.
Even as he stood there, Girard could feel the aging process begin again, feel the vitality leaving his body, his eyesight growing dim, his muscles weakening, his thoughts harder to focus.
A row of wire cages, both large and small, ran on either side of a long wooden workbench. All the animals he had tested the potion on were either dead or dying. Those remaining stared at him through liquid, mournful eyes, as if they knew their own days were numbered.
Girard smacked his fist against the door frame. It was obvious that some vital active ingredient was missing from the formula, but what the hell was it? Now that McNamara had passed away, there was no way of knowing.
Muttering an oath, Girard swept his arm across the countertop, sending beakers and bottles flying in every direction.
“Damn you, Patrick McNamara! Could you not have survived until I got there?” He stared at the notebook pages scattered across the floor. What if the formula he had stolen wasn’t the correct one? What if this batch of the potion had failed, and the formula for the potion that worked was still in the old man’s lab?
Girard frowned as he considered his options, although there was really only one.
He would have to go back to McNamara’s and search the house again.
Chapter 9
Sky dumped a load of clean laundry on the sofa. Two weeks had passed since she had last seen Kaiden and she had finally come to terms with the fact that he had left town. Had he gone after the man who’d broken into Granda’s laboratory? Had he been called away on an emergency—a death in the family, perhaps, although he had never mentioned having brothers or sisters or any other relatives. He didn’t have a job, so a crisis at work was out of the question. If he had decided to take a vacation, he certainly could have found the time to tell her.
She paused in the act of folding a bath towel. Maybe he had just grown tired of her and didn’t want to hurt her feelings by saying so. She could understand that. After all, she wasn’t anybody special. Her looks were average. She hadn’t been blessed with a fantastic sense of humor. She couldn’t sing or play the piano.
Kaiden, on the other hand, was an amazingly handsome man who had been born with an astonishing amount of charisma, not to mention being blessed with a voice that could melt steel and a smile that should come with a warning label. Just being around him had made her feel good. And she missed him terribly.
Putting the towel aside, she sank down in the chair beside the fireplace, suddenly overcome with a keen sense of loss. Granda was gone. She’d had no word about Sam in months, making it harder and harder to cling to the hope that he was still alive. And now Kaiden was gone.
She glanced at the mantel, at the cute little stuffed blue dragon sitting there beside a photograph of her parents, and felt the sharp sting of tears behind her eyes. She wouldn’t cry. Crying never solved anything. It hadn’t brought her parents back. It hadn’t brought Granda back. Sam was still missing in action. And Kaiden ... Thinking of him only made her tears come harder and faster, until it was easier to just give in and have a good cry.
Sky woke curled up in the chair, her shoulders and back aching, her eyes feeling gritty and swollen.
She rose with a groan, surprised to see that it was almost dark outside. Unable to resist, she went to the front window and peered at the house across the street. Was that a light on downstairs? She rubbed her eyes and looked again. The light was still there.
He was back.
Ignoring the inner voice that warned her to stay home and let him come to her if he was of a mind to, she finger-combed her hair and hurried across the street.
The door opened before she had a chance to knock and Kaiden stood silhouetted in the doorway. She couldn’t see his face in the shadows, but he loomed before her, tall and broad. Had he been a stranger, she would have been intimidated by his size alone.
“Skylynn.” There was no emotion in his voice, no hint of welcome.
“I’ve been so worried. I didn’t know where you were ... I ... I ...” She bit down on her lower lip, the flood of words drying up. It was obvious that he wasn’t glad to see her. “I’m ... I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I was afraid ... that is ... I mean ...” She paused to take a breath. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come.”
She was turning to go when his hand closed over her forearm. “Slow down, Sky, and tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing.” She was too embarrassed to meet his gaze. Why hadn’t she stayed home where she belonged?
He tugged lightly on her arm. “Come in.”
Still not meeting his eyes, she shook her head. “I don’t want to intrude.”
“Then why are you here?” he asked, a note of amusement in his voice.
She glared at him. “I was worried about you, you big jerk. Good-bye.”
“Get in here. You look like hell. Have you been sick?”
She tried to twist out of his grip, but it was like trying to break iron. Resigned, she let him pull her into the house.
He shut the door, then turned to face her, his arms folded across his chest. “Okay, Sky Blue, spit it out. What’s wrong?”
Her gaze slid away from his. “You left.”
Thorne frowned, waiting for her to go on, but she remained mute, her head bowed so he couldn’t see her expression. After a moment, he slipped inside her mind. And everything became perfectly clear.
Expelling a deep breath, he drew her gently into his arms. “I’m sorry, Skylynn,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have left without telling you.” Not that he had actually gone anywhere, but what else could he say? Your grandfather’s potion wore off and, oh, yeah, I’m a full-fledged vampire again and it wasn’t safe for you to be around me.
She shuddered in his arms. A moment later, her tears dampened his shirtfront.
