Chapter Twenty
Stefan fed quickly and sent his prey away.
Weeks had passed since Bryony had agreed to stay with him.
Earlier tonight, he had taken her to the theater again.
It pleased him to take her out, to see her smile and hear her laughter.
Being with her was both torment and pleasure as he reined in his hunger for the sweet nectar running through her veins and fought his desire to take her to his bed and make her his.
She cared for him, he knew that. Just as he knew she was trying not to.
She didn’t object on those occasions when he bit her.
He knew she enjoyed it even though it frightened her.
On one hand, she found his preternatural powers fascinating.
On the other, they were unnatural, proof that he was not like other men.
She reveled in his kisses, enjoyed his caresses, and felt guilty for doing so.
She had been taught that decent women held tight to their virginity, that it was a precious gift that could be given only once and should be saved for the man she married. But he had not offered marriage.
Soon, he would have to let her go.
He swore under his breath as he turned and headed toward the Mountain House.
It would have been faster to simply think himself there, but sometimes he enjoyed walking through the night, feeling the velvet darkness wrap around him like loving arms. He belonged to the night. It was a living, breathing part of him.
He was not subject to the mores of humanity.
Their laws and codes, their ideas of morality, had no place in his life.
His needs were few—a secure lair, access to prey, a woman to ease his lust. The fashions of the day, leaders of nations, wars, inventions, the human condition, the laws of the land—none of it had any lasting effect on his existence.
They changed with time while he remained forever the same.
But vampire or human, he had always been a man of his word. He had promised to take Bryony home if she would grant him three months of her company.
He just wasn’t sure he could go through with it.
Stefan had reached the outskirts of his property when he caught the distinct scent of hunters.
Lifting his head, he took a deep breath.
A sudden sense of rage flooded through him.
Why the hell wouldn’t they leave him alone?
Why, indeed? He laughed but there was no humor in it.
They were hunters, he was a vampire. Mortal enemies since time began.
And yet there was a strange connection between hunters and vampires, a supernatural ability that alerted hunters when there were vampires in the area, the same preternatural power that allowed him to scent the presence of the hunters.
He had often wondered if it was nature’s sly way of leveling the playing field between them.
On silent feet, he made his way to the front of the house and peered through the window.
Bryony sat on the couch, her back toward him.
Four hunters stood in front of her. Big men, well-armed.
All were scarred, souvenirs of previous battles, no doubt.
He recognized the fair-haired man on the far left.
How had they gotten into the house? Surely Bryony would not have invited them.
One of the other hunters took hold of Bryony’s shoulders and gave her a good shake. “Where is he?”
“I don’t know!”
“Don’t lie to me! We know he lives here. Hell, I can smell him on you.”
“Let me go!” She twisted out of his grasp, scrambled to her feet, and started to run for the stairs, but the hunters cut off her escape and then surrounded her.
“Just tell us where he is and we’ll let you go.”
“I don’t know where he is! How many times do I have to tell you? I. Don’t. Know.”
The fair-haired man slapped her across the face, hard, twice.
With a roar, Stefan burst through the window, sending shards of glass flying across the room. “Bryony, go upstairs and lock your door!”
She didn’t argue. She turned and ran up the stairs, but stopped when she reached the landing, her gaze focused on the scene below.
Stefan faced the hunters, a faint smile twitching his lips as he motioned for the fair-haired hunter who had run away at their last encounter to come closer.
As if pulled by the same string, the hunters closed in on Stefan.
Bryony watched in fascinated horror as he fought them off. They darted in like hornets attacking a bear, knives flashing in the light of the hearth fire as they struck out at Stefan.
Heart pounding, she feared they would kill him. But he was moving, too, quick as lightning as he broke one man’s neck, the arm of another. When one of the hunters slashed Stefan’s shoulder, Stefan wrested the blade from the hunter’s hand and drove it into his heart.
Sickened, Bryony pressed a hand to her mouth. She had never witnessed such violence. There was blood splattered on the wall, the carpets, the couch. The man with the broken arm inched his way out the front door and fled.
And now only the fair-haired man remained.
Stefan stared at him. “Are you going to run away again, you damn, dirty coward?”
The hunter glanced at the door and then at the window Stefan had come through. “Go ahead, vampire,” he said, with a sneer. “Kill me. But that won’t stop the others from coming after you.”
Stefan’s eyes narrowed ominously. “What others?”
“The Guild thinks you may be the last of your kind. They’ve posted a sizeable reward for your head.”
“Too bad you won’t live to collect it,” Stefan snarled.
“Won’t I?” In a burst of courage, the hunter pulled a bottle from his pocket, tore off the cap, and hurled the contents in Stefan’s face. Stefan let out a roar as holy water splashed across his face and down his neck. Darting forward, he sank his fangs into the man’s throat.
It wasn’t until he heard Bryony’s horrified cry that sanity returned.
Keeping his face averted, Stefan retracted his fangs and said, “I told you to go to your room. Now go.”
He heard her footsteps as she ran down the hall, the slam of the door after she entered her bedchamber.
Damn, damn, damn. Of all the rotten luck, why did they have to attack him here?
Filled with impotent rage and the pain of his wounds, he buried his fangs in the hunter’s throat once again. His cuts and bruises would heal overnight. The burns left by the holy water would take a day or two longer.
After cleaning up and disposing of the bodies, Stefan returned to the house.
For a moment, he stood at the foot of the stairs, looking up.
What was he going to do about Bryony? If hunters could find this place, they could find his other lairs, as well.
Selfishly keeping Bryony with him was putting her life in danger.
Even worse, tonight she had seen him for what he truly was, and that was something she was not likely to forget.
He could hear her pacing the bedchamber floor.
He could easily imagine what she was thinking.
Monster. She had known what he was, what he did to survive.
But now she had seen him at his most frightening.
The thing nightmares were made of. Monster.
The more time he spent with her, the harder it was going to be to let her go.
Might as well do it now and get it over with.
Taking a deep breath, he made his way to her room and knocked on the door.
It took several long moments before she opened it. She stared at his face, her eyes wide with pity and revulsion when she saw the burns left by the holy water, and he turned away.
“You’re hurt,” she said, a quiver in her voice.
“It is nothing. How did they get into the house?”
“I went out to see Daisy.”
“Did you invite them inside?”
She bit down on her lip and then nodded. “They said they would kill me if I refused. And I believed them.”
Stefan bit off a vile oath. Damn, dirty cowards.
“What’s the Guild?” she asked. “And why are they after you?”
He looked back at her then. “Why? I am a vampire. They are hunters. It is the way of the world.”
“They said you might be the last of your kind. Do you think that’s true?”
He shrugged. “It matters not. I have put your life at risk for the last time. Pack your belongings, fair Bryony. I am taking you home tonight,” he said, and vanished from her sight.
Bryony stood there a moment, stunned by his words. Going home, thank the Good Lord.
Closing the door, she threw all her things on the bed and began to pack. She was going home, she thought, with an odd sense of detachment. And then she began to weep.
She was going home.
Stefan came for her an hour later. Wordlessly, he carried her bags and everything else out to a waiting carriage. He loaded some of it inside the coach and the rest on the top. James sat on the high front seat, reins in hand.
Bryony looked at Stefan, who kept his face turned away from her. “Aren’t you coming with me?”
“No. James has the directions. He will see you safely home. Daisy is already there.”
“But…”
“Be happy, fair Bryony. Forgive me for interfering in your life. I had no right to do so.”
Unable to resist, he leaned forward and brushed her lips with his.
“Stefan…”
Putting his hands at her waist, he lifted her into the carriage and closed the door. When she turned to look out the coach window, he was gone.
She cried all the way home.
Stefan woke the servants, paid them each a year’s salary, and sent them away.
James had been paid earlier. Going outside, he turned all the animals loose before returning to the house.
He wandered from room to room, remembering every moment he had spent with Bryony, every kiss, every caress, the warmth of her smile, the sweetness of her kisses, the lilting sound of her laughter, the gentle touch of her hand.
Leaving the house again, he summoned his witch power, set the manor on fire, and watched it burn until only ashes and his shattered dreams remained.
A thought took him to the Stone House in the valley. Bryony’s scent was strong here. He stood in the main room a moment, remembering the first night he had found her lying cold and wet on the couch and first tasted her blood, and then he thrust the memory away.
He secured the place against intruders, then sprawled on the couch and stared into the cold hearth.
The hunters had said they believed he was the last of his kind.
Could it be true? Had they destroyed his sire, as well?
Vampires were not particularly sociable creatures.
They tended to lay claim to one part of the world or another, as he had laid claim to this part of the country, and keep to themselves.
But they did get together on rare occasions.
He had acquaintances in America and Ireland, France and Italy.
Had the Hunter’s Guild destroyed them all?
If so, he was now truly alone.
He sat there until he felt the subtle change in the air that signaled the dawn of a new day.
Rising, he went up to the second floor and fell into the bed Bryony had slept in.
A deep breath carried her familiar scent to him before he closed his eyes and tumbled into oblivion, Bryony’s name on his lips, her image forever etched on his heart.