Amanda Ashley - [Children of the Night 02] Read online

  “IS THAT THE BEST YOU CAN DO?”

  “You know better than that, darlin’,” he said with a wicked grin.

  “Show me.”

  His kiss was like silken fire and lightning, sending heat shooting through every fiber of her being. Cara pressed herself against him, wanting more.

  “Here, now,” Vince said, “what do you think you’re doing?”

  “Nothing,” she said innocently.

  “Nothing?” He drew her body tight against his, letting her feel his arousal.

  She smiled at him, a decidedly sexy, wanton smile.

  “You keep looking at me like that and I’m going to take you upstairs and have my way with you.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Better hurry,” she said, “I have to be back at work in half an hour.”

  Books by Amanda Ashley

  DEAD SEXY

  DESIRE AFTER DARK

  NIGHT’S KISS

  A WHISPER OF ETERNITY

  AFTER SUNDOWN

  Published by Zebra Books

  AMANDA ASHLEY

  NIGHT’S TOUCH

  ZEBRA BOOKS

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  To Candace Camp

  who gave me the idea for

  writing a sequel to Night’s Kiss.

  Thanks, Candace!

  And to Ronda Thompson

  for brainstorming with me

  in the wee small hours

  of the morning.

  And to the ladies in my critique groups

  for their invaluable help.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  It was at a very early age that Cara Aideen DeLongpre realized her mother and father weren’t like her friends’ parents. For one thing, she never saw her mom and dad during the day, and they never ate dinner together, the way families did on TV. As far back as Cara could remember, she had eaten all her meals in the company of her nanny, Charlotte Ray, until Charlotte retired. Cara’s new nanny, Melissa Kent, had been much younger than Miss Ray, and although Cara missed her old nanny, Miss Kent quickly found a place in Cara’s affections.

  Cara was homeschooled by Miss Louise Byrne until she turned twelve. On her birthday, Cara’s father informed her that she would be going to public school so that she might associate with other children. Cara wasn’t happy about that, but her father assured her that it was for her own good. She needed to learn how to get along with people her own age. To that end, Miss Byrne was dismissed and Frank Di Giorgio was hired. Mr. Di Giorgio had thick black hair going gray at the temples and gray eyes that, when he was angry, looked as cold as stone. He was built like a wrestler and had a face like a bulldog. It was his job to drive Cara to school and pick her up afterward.

  Going to public school had been a trial. After spending the first twelve years of her life with adults, Cara had found it hard to relate to children her own age. It had also emphasized, once again, the differences between her parents and the parents of the other kids. Her mother and father didn’t attend parent-teacher conferences or school plays or any other functions, unless they were held at night.

  Until Cara went to school, she had assumed that everybody opened their Christmas presents at night and hunted for Easter eggs after the sun went down. Thanksgiving was a holiday that was never celebrated in her home. Valentine’s Day meant a big candy heart from her daddy.

  Cara’s favorite holiday was Halloween. She always dressed up as a witch, and her mother and father always went trick-or-treating with her. Her mom dressed as a witch, too. Her dad didn’t dress up, though he did wear a long black cloak that made the other kids ask if he was supposed to be a vampire.

  When Cara turned sixteen, she was allowed to go out with boys, but only if they went out with a group or with another couple. To her chagrin, Mr. Di Giorgio was always nearby and Cara came to understand that he was no longer just her chauffeur, but her bodyguard as well, though she had no idea why she needed a bodyguard. Bodyguards were for presidents and rock stars, not for ordinary people.

  She put the question to her mom and dad the night after it occurred to her.

  Roshan DeLongpre considered his reply for several moments before he answered his daughter’s question. He wasn’t surprised by it, only amazed that it had taken her so long to ask.

  “I’m a wealthy man,” he explained patiently, “and I have many enemies. Frank is there to make sure that no harm comes to you.”

  “What kind of enemies?” Cara asked.

  “Ruthless ones.”

  She digested that a moment, then asked, “Why don’t I ever see you or Mom during the day? Why don’t we eat together? Where do the two of you go every day, and why can’t I ever go with you?”

  Roshan looked at his wife, one brow arched in a silent plea for help. He and Brenna had both known this day would come sooner or later, but how did a man tell his adopted daughter that her father and mother were vampires and, more than that, that her mother was a witch?

  “Brenna?”

  Brenna took her daughter’s hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. “Years ago, while traveling in Africa, your father and I contracted a rare disease. The sun is like poison to us now, so we sleep during the day.”

  Cara nodded. She knew she was adopted. Her parents had told her that as soon as she was old enough to understand. It explained why she wasn’t affected by the same disease that plagued her mom and dad.

  “Maybe we could eat dinner together?” Cara suggested. “Like other families. You know, like the ones on TV.”

  Brenna and Roshan exchanged glances.

  “Due to our ailment, your father and I are on a rather strict liquid diet,” Brenna said after a moment, “but we’ll be happy to sit at the table with you while you eat, if you like.”

  “I’d like that very much,” Cara said, smiling. “At least once in a while.”

  “Then that’s what we’ll do,” her father said.

  “Are we very rich?” Cara asked.

  “Yes,” her father replied soberly. “Very.”

  “Do you think I could have a car?”

  “When you’re eighteen,” her father said.

  Cara sighed. “Lily got a new car for her sixteenth birthday. So did Jennifer. Why can’t I have a car now?”

  Brenna looked at her husband, one brow raised as she, too, waited for his answer.

 
; Roshan glanced from his daughter to his wife and back again. “We’ll compromise,” he said. “You can have the car of your choice when you turn seventeen.”

  The car she chose was a baby blue convertible with black interior.

  Cara was twenty-two years old when she finally discovered why her parents weren’t like everyone else’s.

  Chapter 1

  Cara Aideen DeLongpre sipped her drink, too preoccupied with her own thoughts to pay any attention to the crowd and the noise that surrounded her. She had grown up knowing her mother and father weren’t like other parents. Once she had started going to school, she had discovered a whole new world. Other kids went on vacation with their parents when school was out. They went out to dinner and to the zoo and to Disneyland and Sea World. They had birthday parties at Chuck E. Cheese’s. Other kids had brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, and cousins and grandparents. When Cara asked why she didn’t have brothers or sisters or aunts and uncles, her father had explained that her mother couldn’t have children, and that he and her mother didn’t have any siblings, and that her grandparents had all passed away.

  It was a perfectly logical explanation, but it didn’t make her feel any less lonely. It would have been nice to have an older brother, or a sister she could share confidences with.

  What wasn’t logical was the fact that, in over twenty years, her parents hadn’t changed at all. She told herself she was being foolish, that she was overreacting, imagining things, but there was no arguing with the proof of her own eyes. They both looked exactly the way they had when Cara was a little girl. Her mother never gained or lost an ounce. Her face was as smooth and clear as it had always been. The same was true of her father. Roshan DeLongpre looked like a man in his mid-thirties, and he had looked that way for as long as Cara could remember. He had taken her to the movies one night last week and they had run into a couple of Cara’s acquaintances. Before she could introduce her father, her friend, Cindy, had taken her aside and asked how long she had been dating that “good-looking older man.”

  Cara stared into her drink, wishing she had the nerve to ask her parents why Di Giorgio aged and they didn’t and why their lifestyle was so different from everyone else’s. She knew about their aversion to the sun and their liquid diet, but why did that keep them from other normal activities? Why did they encourage her to make friends but discourage her from bringing them home? Why did they keep the door to their bedroom locked during the day? What were they doing in there?

  She looked up as a man sat down beside her. He smiled, then pointed with his chin at her drink. “Can I buy you another?”

  “No, thank you.”

  He lifted a hand. “Hey, no problem. You just looked a little down. I thought you might like some company.”

  He had a nice voice, blond hair, and dark brown eyes. What harm could it do to share a drink with him?

  “Are you sure you won’t change your mind?” he coaxed, as if sensing her indecision.

  “Well, I would like another.”

  “What are you drinking?” he asked, signaling for the bartender.

  “A virgin pineapple daiquiri.”

  He ordered her drink and a scotch and water for himself, then held out his hand. “I’m Anton.”

  “Cara.” She hesitated a moment before taking his hand. Though she had been on her share of dates, she tended to be shy around strangers. She wasn’t sure why—maybe because she had never forgotten her father’s warning that he had “ruthless enemies.” Still, she told herself there was nothing to worry about. Frank was here.

  Anton’s grip was firm, his skin warm. “Do you come here often?”

  “No, this is my first time. I was just passing by and I heard the music and…” She shrugged. “I thought it might cheer me up.”

  “If you tell me what’s got you feeling so blue, I might be able to help.”

  “I don’t think so, but thanks for offering.”

  Cara glanced out at the dance floor as the lights dimmed. The music, which had been upbeat, changed to something slow and sensual with a dark, sexual undertone. It called to something earthy deep within her.

  “Would you like to dance?” Anton asked.

  Again, she hesitated a moment before agreeing.

  Anton took her by the hand and led her out onto the floor. “So,” he said, taking her in his arms. “Tell me about yourself.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Let’s see. What do you like to do for fun? Do you work, or are you an heiress? Who’s your favorite singer? And, most important of all, are you a chocoholic like every other woman I’ve ever met?”

  She laughed. “Guilty on the chocolate,” she said, and then frowned as she realized she had never seen her mother eat or drink anything chocolate. Even the most rigid dieters cheated every now and then.

  “Did I say something wrong?” he asked.

  “No. I work at the library, and I don’t really have a favorite singer.” She didn’t tell him that she was, in fact, an heiress. After all, he was a stranger and she wasn’t a fool. Not that she had anything to worry about, not with Frank Di Giorgio sitting at the far end of the bar watching her like a hawk.

  “You’re a librarian?” Anton exclaimed.

  “Is something wrong with that?”

  “No, no, but…well, you’re a knockout. I sort of thought you might be a model or an actress.”

  Cara smiled, flattered in spite of herself. “Disappointed?”

  “Not at all.”

  When the music ended, he escorted her back to their seats. Their drinks were waiting for them. Cara sipped hers, thinking how glad she was she had stopped in here tonight. Di Giorgio had tried to dissuade her, but she had insisted. Once inside, she almost hadn’t stayed, it was such a strange place. For one thing, she was the only one in the place who wasn’t wearing black. Voodoo masks and ancient Indian burial masks decorated the walls. Tall black candles flickered in wrought-iron wall sconces, casting eerie shadows over the faces of the patrons; a good number of them wore long black cloaks or capes with hoods.

  “So,” Anton said, “what do you think of The Nocturne?”

  “I’m not sure. Why is everyone wearing black?”

  “This is a Goth hangout.”

  “Oh! Silly me, I should have guessed.”

  He grinned at her. “I take it you’re not into the Goth scene.”

  “Not really,” she replied, and then frowned, thinking that her father would be right at home in a place like this. He had an affinity for dark clothing, and he had a long black cloak. It was more than that, though. From time to time, she had sensed a darkness in her father that she couldn’t explain and didn’t understand.

  Cara finished her drink, then looked at her watch, surprised to find it was so late. “I should be going,” she said reluctantly. “My folks will be worried.”

  “Don’t tell me you still live at home with mom and dad!”

  Cara shrugged. “I like it there.” And she did, although sometimes, especially when the days were long and the nights were short, it was like living alone.

  “One more dance?” he coaxed.

  “I don’t think so. I really need to go,” she said, and then wondered why she had to be home before midnight. She wasn’t a child anymore. Why did she still have a curfew? Lately, she’d had so many questions about the way she lived. Why did she still live at home? Why did she still need a bodyguard? She was twenty-two years old and no one had ever tried to kidnap her or molest her or so much as give her a dirty look. Of course, Di Giorgio was probably responsible for that. A man would have to be crazy to try anything with the Hulk lurking in the background. Still, maybe it was time to sit her folks down and ask the questions that had been plaguing her more and more in the last few months.

  “Thank you for the drink and the dance,” she said, rising.

  “Any chance you’ll be here tomorrow night about this time?” he asked.

  She canted her head to the side, considering it, and
then smiled. “I’d say the odds were good.”

  “Great. I’ll see you then.”

  Leaning back against the bar, Anton Bouchard watched his enemy’s daughter leave the bar, followed by a big bear of a man who looked as if he could easily take on every other man in the place without breaking a sweat.

  Anton grunted softly, thinking how pleased his mother would be when he told her he had put the first part of her plan into operation.

  Chapter 2

  Serafina Bouchard beamed when Anton told her that he had made contact with DeLongpre’s daughter. Serafina had waited over twenty years to avenge herself on DeLongpre and now the time was at hand, so close she could taste it. She wasn’t powerful enough to destroy the vampire or his witch wife, but destroying their daughter would hurt them far worse than any physical pain she could inflict, and they deserved to be destroyed. They had killed Anthony Loken, the only man she had ever loved, and Myra had been killed that same night. Serafina didn’t know how Myra had died, or who had killed her, but she was certain that, one way or another, Roshan DeLongpre had been responsible for her death.

  Serafina smiled. She wasn’t sorry that Myra was gone. She had always been jealous of Myra, jealous of her power, jealous of her association with Anthony. With Myra’s death, the Wiccan Way Coffee Shop and Book Store had closed and the coven had been without a leader, but not for long. When no one else seemed inclined to take over, Serafina had stepped in and taken charge. She had opened a new bookstore on the other side of town and offered it to the coven for a place to meet. Now, twenty years later, she was the undisputed head of the coven and The Wiccan Heart was thriving. When Anton grew old enough to work, she had made him her partner in the bookstore.

  Later that night, alone in her room, Serafina spoke to her beloved’s photo. “Soon, Anthony, soon your death will be avenged and you’ll be able to rest in peace.”