Darknight(86)

After Mason’s latest revelations, my brain started working at the mystery. So Damon had been feeling ill lately? It could mean nothing…

…or it could mean everything.

No, that was ridiculous. I couldn’t deny that Damon was a master of dark and unknown magic, magic he’d manipulated to do things no one else could. And he’d certainly made himself scarce lately, but that didn’t mean much, other than him not wanting to see how happy Connor and I were together. True, Damon had apparently hooked up with Jessica. However, I had the distinct impression that was all about getting an heir, and had very little to do with true love or attraction. At least, not on his side. Jessica was clearly crazy (and I do mean crazy) about him.

But even stacking up every damning thing I knew about Damon still didn’t seem enough to make the leap from unscrupulous warlock and dabbler in dark magic to bloodthirsty and murderous wolf…werewolf…whatever. That was silly. Werewolves weren’t real. Neither were vampires or chupacabras or zombies. Witches, yes, of course. We were just people, though — people with some unusual gifts, true, but even the blackest warlock I’ve ever heard of had never gone rampaging around, killing college students just for shits and giggles. For one thing, it was the sort of behavior that attracted far too much attention. I couldn’t deny that murder had been done in the name of magic and power, and probably would again someday. But not wholesale murder. Not like this.

And I knew I didn’t dare say anything of my crazy suspicions to Connor, because he would definitely think that my dislike of Damon had gotten the better of me at last.

“That’s some frown you’re wearing,” Connor said, breaking my reverie as he came into our apartment from the studio across the hall.

Somehow I managed to keep myself from startling. “Is it? Sorry, just thinking. Mason called and said she and Carla are heading down to Tucson for some sun and to get away from it all. The campus is closed until further notice, apparently.”

He leaned down over the back of the couch and pressed his lips against my neck. Despite my worry, a delicious shiver passed over me at his touch. I reached up and behind me, pulling him closer, shifting so that now we were face to face, kissing, mouths opening to taste one another again.

“Taking a break?” I murmured after he pulled away slightly so he could draw in a breath.

“I am now.”

I didn’t need any further encouragement. Slipping off the couch, I stood and went over to him, put my arms around him, let him gather me up and take me to the stairs, then up to the bedroom we now shared. So good to forget everything except the warm scent of his skin, the strength of his hands as he caressed me, the unbelievable sense of completion as he filled me again, our bodies moving together in perfect rhythm.

Afterward, I lay in his arms and listened to the deep, regular sound of his heart beating, felt the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath my cheek. It was so good to be here, safe in the circle of his arms. I wished it could always be like this, just the two of us with no outside worries or complications. Unfortunately, I knew that wasn’t the way the world worked.



* * *



At first the closing of the campus seemed to have stopped the attacks. A day went by, then two, then three, and the whole town seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief. Whatever had caused the hideous rampage seemed to be over.

Until the body was found near a carport at an apartment complex a mile from the university. Same savage bites to the throat, same general description for the victim: early twenties, dark-haired, slender.

And I got a call from my Aunt Rachel, who was so spooked by what she’d read in the local paper that she even told me that Connor and I should leave Flagstaff for a while and come to Jerome.

“It would be good to see you, and I can’t stop worrying — that is, I was already worried, with you surrounded by Wilcoxes, and now with these horrible attacks — ”

“The Wilcoxes really aren’t a problem,” I cut in. “They’ve been very kind to me.”

“Oh, really?” Disbelief fairly dripped from her tone. “All of them?”

It was pretty obvious who she’d meant with that “all of them” remark. “Okay, Damon is not exactly the sweetest guy I’ve ever met, but there are some cousins who’re my age and have been really nice. They’re just people, Rachel. Not the boogeyman, not the big bad.”

“They’re brainwashing you.”

Of all the — “No, not really. Maybe it’s easier for you to think that than to realize this feud is silly and has gone on long enough.”