“Don’t believe everything you read, love,” Simon said with that touch of humor she adored. “You’ll learn all you need to know, in time. I’ll teach you. I’ll teach you everything.”
He led her onto the balcony that overlooked downtown Atlanta. Already Claire felt stronger, more alive. In addition she felt something she had not expected…an increased pull to Simon, who was, in a way she had never expected anyone to be, hers. Forever hers. He was in her blood, now, and she was in his.
“I was so sure there was a vampire in the building.” She laughed lightly and easily.
“There is.” Simon said. “When you come into your full abilities you’ll sense when a vampire is near.”
“I knew it,” Claire whispered. “Is there like a club or something? Monthly meetings?”
“Vamps and Weres don’t get along, but we refrain from fighting openly so we won’t bring undue attention to ourselves. Existing in a world that doesn’t believe in us is tough. Keeping it that way is even tougher.”
“Who is it?” she asked, searching her mind for the most logical answer. The young guy from the first floor, Charlie, the handyman…
“Mrs. Tillman. Don’t let the doddering old lady act fool you. She can be a nasty bitch when she feels like it.”
“But she’s old.”
“Only because it suits her at this moment in time to be old.”
Claire pictured Mrs. Tillman’s sour but unthreatening face in her mind, and imagined that mouth coming down on her neck. She shuddered, and Simon wrapped his arms around her in response. “At least now I understand why you were so upset at my teeny obsession with vampires.”
“Teeny?” he teased.
“Miniscule.”
The moon was not full, and still Claire drank in its power. The moon was a living thing that fed her, that called to her like a drug she needed in order to survive, in order to be strong. The moon’s rays washed over her much as Simon’s hands did, and she knew she had made the right decision in offering him her neck. No wonder he was so often out at night. To be bathed in the moonlight was magical.
“When did you know…” she began and then faltered. “When did you see that I…”
“That you were meant to be mine?”
“Yes.” The words sounded so right, so true to her heart. Meant to be mine.
“The day I moved in I saw you come in from work, and…”
“The day you moved in?” she interrupted. “Why did you wait so long?”
“I knew if I was right and you were the one then you would come to me, in time. You did so, in your own unique way. You were drawn to me, Claire. That’s why you became obsessed. From that first glance, we were united.” With his fingertip, he touched the gold cross she wore. “I’m just glad this isn’t silver.”
Claire turned and leaned over the balcony railing, face lifted to the moon. A cool night breeze washed over her bare body and she opened her arms to drink it in. Even the brush of the wind on her skin felt finer, sharper, more beautiful.
Simon kissed the wound on her neck, a wound she knew would quickly disappear. “You are remarkably gorgeous tonight,” he whispered in her ear. “Gorgeous and powerful and mine in a thousand ways.” His body was molded to hers, and she felt as if she not only absorbed power from him but also gave back, in some way she could not yet explain. The night was at their feet, waiting to be claimed and conquered. Her life had just begun.
Again, Simon kissed her neck. “Moonlight becomes you, love,” he whispered against the sensitive skin. “Moonlight becomes you.”
DIRTY MAGIC
Kim Harrison
MIA WALKED DOWN THE DAMP, RAIN-DESERTED sidewalk, her seventy-five-dollar heels clicking faintly from fatigue on the wet cement. She was tired, but she could still maintain her elegant, upright posture if she moved slowly. Her dress-length overcoat and matching umbrella of midnight blue kept her dry, and it was rainy enough that she didn’t need to wear her sunglasses to protect her pale, nearly albino eyes.
With a small toss of her head, she shifted her black hair, cut short as she liked it. Traffic was light, but she didn’t want to risk being splashed, so she shifted closer to the classy, well-maintained narrow buildings that lined the street. The paper sack of groceries on her hip wasn’t heavy, but her daughter’s needs were telling. It wasn’t the usual fatigue brought on by an energetic newborn. Holly was the first banshee born in Cincinnati in over forty years, and if Mia couldn’t keep her in an emotion-rich environment, the child took what she needed from her mother. It wasn’t as if Holly could draw upon her father for her emotional needs. Not now anyway.