The Immaculate: Ancient Blood, #3

Chapter One

Just a little bit of light reading?

Seville, 1988

Mara screamed.

Hands bruised her flesh. Nails tore her skin and hair. Foul breath hissed in her face. Pain exploded in her neck. Each savage thrust of teeth kept time with brutal thrusting lower, in that place she’d been saving for a man she’d never met but only dreamed of—

Miss, are you all right? Gentle hands shook Mara’s shoulder. Snapping awake, she grasped the librarian’s wrists and stopped just short of striking the woman in the face.

Wow, I’m sorry, Mara breathed, releasing her terrified captive.

The librarian rubbed her wrists as she backed away. We’re closing, miss, and I’ll ask you not to come back again.

I’m sorry about grabbing you, Mara spoke with genuine regret. I...I was attacked about a year ago, and I get horrible dreams."

Mara rarely spoke of the rape that had left her scarred both physically and emotionally. The terrible attack had nearly killed her. In spite of visits with counselors and psychiatrists, she was still unable to remember all the details, only the pain. Though Mara avoided discussing it, she felt she owed the librarian some explanation. Guilty feelings aside, this particular Spanish library contained the most complete selection of books about her obsession.

All right. I suppose I shouldn’t have shaken you, anyway. You’d fallen asleep and were very disturbed, but it better not happen again.

Yes. Thank you. Mara drew a trembling breath and pressed her hands to her temples.

The librarian left the study room for the front desk.

Standing, Mara knocked several leather-bound volumes onto the carpet. Damn. I’m so clumsy.

She stooped to gather the books when a large hand picked up an especially heavy volume by her toe. Startled, she jumped.

She glanced at the man beside her. He had broad shoulders, a strong neck, and a face that compelled Mara to stare. Though not handsome, his features were endearing. He was smooth-shaven, his cheekbones high and broad. His straight nose was slightly snubbed and his lower lip full. Before her attack she might have called his mouth kissable, but lately romance was the last thing on her mind. Her heartbeat fluttered when she looked into his eyes. Fringed with thick lashes, they were the darkest blue she’d ever seen.

Let me help you. His deep voice resounded in the empty room. Like her, he was American.

Thank you. I fell asleep and I guess I’m still a little groggy.

He glanced at the books. "Whispers of the Damned. The Book of Eternal Curses. Death Kisses. Just a little bit of light reading? No wonder you have nightmares."

She quickly gathered the books into a pile. They stood, and she noticed he was tall enough to be intimidating. I have strange taste. Thanks for your help.

You forgot one. He caught up to her. "Lords of the Moon."

Mara stared at him. You can read that?

It’s an odd dialect, but not quite lost.

At first I thought it was Latin. Not that my Latin’s great. I should have paid more attention in class.

It is Latin. A form of it, anyway.

Can you... Mara shook her head.

Can I what?

Nothing. There’s no time. The library is closing. I just really wish I knew what was in that book. These others are all the same. Just a lot of folklore.

His lips curved in the slightest smile. Sure it’s folklore. You don’t really believe in vampires and werewolves, do you?

Of course not. I’m just interested in...true crime. You know, people who think they’re vampires and werewolves. Lycanthropy and such. She nodded to the pile of books in her hands. You can just toss it on top. I have to take these to the desk. They don’t let anyone check them out. I guess they’re rare.

He took the books from her and brushed through the glass doors to the desk.

Mara trotted to keep up with his long strides. Listen, sir, you really don’t have to—

Adam. He glanced over his shoulder. I’ll be here around six tomorrow to translate for you.

Mara paused beside him at the desk. Her hands trembled and her heart pounded. What a fool she must sound like.

You really don’t have to do that.

You want to know what’s in the book?

Yes, but I hope you don’t think this is some kind of crazy come-on.

Those dark blue eyes fixed on hers. Heat rose in her face. What had made her say that?

I’ll see you tomorrow. He walked down the marble steps to the exit door. One hand on the glass, he turned. And that’s not a crazy come-on, either.

Mara watched him disappear into the dark streets of Seville. She turned to the librarian and asked, Would you hold these for me until tomorrow?

Outside, Mara’s shoes tapped on the rain-slicked sidewalk. She’d been in Spain for nearly a month. Before that, she’d been in London and Romania. Romania. She laughed aloud at her silliness. She thought it would be the place to learn about vampires and demons. All the Count Dracula crap.

For the longest time, she thought her attacker had been an average maniac, but over the past year, strange flashes had come to her in dreams. Flashes of teeth. Blood. Powerful thoughts that invaded her mind just as the son-of-a-bitch had invaded her body. Maybe part of her didn’t want to believe another human had done such horrible things to her. She knew attacks happened, but to other people, not to her. She never thought she’d be a statistic. Maybe, in her mind, she wanted to believe something unexplainable, something supernatural, had attacked her because the reality was just too painful.

Shivering, she buried her hands in her jacket pockets. Her mind spun with phrases chanted in a language she couldn’t grasp.

She shook her head. Better not to think about it.

The past year had been so strange. Her best friend, Charlie, had been attacked by a man the same week of Mara’s rape. Luckily for Charlie, her husband—then a stranger to her—had fought off the lunatic. Mara was still trying to figure out the relationship between Charlie and her husband Jocelyn. So much had happened between them. Most of it Charlie didn’t talk about, even to Mara. Before Charlie and Jocelyn married, the two women had confided in each other about everything. Mara didn’t begrudge Charlie’s relationship with Jocelyn. She was glad that her friend had found someone to love, but she still wondered what had happened to them prior to the wedding.

Right after Mara’s attack, Charlie and Jocelyn had disappeared for months. Charlie had returned home by herself, devastated because she and Jocelyn had split up. Then he’d returned and the two had married. Though Mara didn’t hate Jocelyn, she found him odd. Very secretive, and his ways had influenced Charlie.

Just more unanswered questions. Mara sighed, stepping into her hotel and taking the elevator to her fifth-floor room.

Inside, she shrugged off her jacket and flopped on the bed. She belonged home in Boston, finishing her final semester in college. Her family was furious with her for squandering the inheritance her grandfather had left for her education on a frivolous trip to Europe. If they only knew the truth. Not that it would have mattered to them. Her parents had always been deeply involved with their own lives and careers and had never taken much interest in her.

Since her attack, she hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything except the horror of what happened. Instead of fading, the nightmares and violent emotions increased. With every passing month, she recalled more details, each one of them reinforcing her belief that something inhuman had taken her, fed off her, and tried to control her. Fearful of telling anyone what she believed, she hid her suspicions, even from the psychiatrists. They’d probably lock her up.

Mara turned onto her stomach and hugged her pillow as she drifted to sleep.

Though tired, she feared sleep most of all. What if someday she became so lost in the nightmare she didn’t wake up? What would she do if she ever clearly remembered what had happened that devastating day a year ago?

* * *

Adam sat in a tiny park near the oldest section of Seville. He knew what it had looked like when it was first built, although he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes. He was far too young for that. His mentors had seen it and they had told him. They gave him memories. Languages, curses, chants and visions. As a child, he’d found categorizing such memories difficult, but he’d learned quickly how to separate them from his own. He always learned quickly.

Switching off the inherited memories, he locked them in a dark little room and concentrated on a new vision. Experience told him that certain thoughts should be allowed to roam free and then released or else they’d become obsession.

The woman from the library filled his mind. He’d been standing behind a shelf, out of her sight. Even when he’d taken a seat beside her, she’d been too absorbed in reading to notice. She wasn’t beautiful, but had a striking appearance with dark hair braided down her back and a small, curvaceous body. Full lips and a sturdy jaw lent a look of strength to her face.

While he studied her, he realized what had drawn him to her. Her large, dark eyes were haunted. She’d chewed her lower lip while concentrating on her books. After several hours, she’d drifted into a light, agitated sleep. He’d been tempted to wake her himself, but the librarian had beaten him to it. The awakened woman’s reaction had almost erupted into violence. She’d worn the look of a terrified animal, but her motions had been swift, like one trained to defend herself.

Adam hadn’t intended to talk to her, yet when she’d dropped her books, he found himself helping her, volunteering to translate a text about vampires. She’d denied believing in vampires, but something in her eyes had told him otherwise. If she did believe in such things, he should avoid her. No point in making even more trouble for himself.

Sighing, Adam glanced skyward. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Raindrops drizzled down his face, caressing him like cool fingertips.

He wondered what her name was.

* * *

Mara awoke exhausted and disentangled herself from bonds of twisted sheets. Though she didn’t clearly recall her dream, it had been about him again. She’d fought him, but he’d won. He always won.

She rubbed her bleary eyes and squinted at the clock by her bedside.

Damn.

Springing to her feet, she nearly tripped on the bedspread. A glance out the window revealed cars and foot traffic shadowed by dusk. Unfortunately, her clock hadn’t lied. It was five thirty in the evening. She’d slept through the whole day. In half an hour, the stranger she’d met at the library had promised to translate the obscure text that had baffled her all week.

Calling herself every kind of fool for agreeing to meet with a man she didn’t know in a country she was just visiting, she hurried to the bathroom. After washing quickly, she dressed in the first articles of clothing she touched— jeans, a baggy gray sweater, and worn black boots. Not even bothering to completely dry her hair or apply makeup, she grabbed her duffel bag and hurried for the elevator.

True, she didn’t know this man from Adam... She burst out in hysterical laughter.

Adam.

It was quarter past six when she arrived at the library. Adam had probably left, if he’d ever shown up at all. She must have looked liked a lunatic last night. Most likely he really couldn’t translate the book and was probably having a laugh at her expense.

As soon as she threw open the heavy wooden door of the library, her breath caught. Adam stood several feet from the reference desk gazing up at a mural of angels and demons battling on a field of black and red flames. His posture was soldier-straight, his hands clasped behind his back. A simple black coat draped his tall, lean frame. Something about him stirred her in a way she thought she’d never experience again.

He turned to her, and a slight smile flickered across his mouth.

I’m sorry to make you wait. Suddenly she wished she’d at least put on some makeup or chosen a better outfit.

He held up his wrists. No shackles. You didn’t make me do anything.

He picked up the book from the reference desk and held open the door to the small study room where they’d met the previous night. Walking past him, she caught a glimpse of the simple silver cross hanging from a chain around his strong neck. She averted her gaze, forcing herself not to stare at him. Inadvertently, her arm brushed him on her way through the door. The odd but appealing scent of his cologne wafted on the air. It was a woodsy fragrance, like herbs or incense, more natural than manufactured.

They sat at a small wooden table. She took out her notebook and pencil, and Adam placed the volume between them before shrugging off his coat. Unable to help herself, she gazed at him and thought how attractive he was. A blue T-shirt stretched across the chiseled muscles of his broad chest. For some strange reason, this man turned her on so much that she almost felt like a normal woman again. Powerful arms, each with a prominent vein over his biceps, swelled beneath his short sleeves. His jeans clung to every long, hard inch of his legs. The muscles of his thighs bulged against the denim. When he turned to hang his coat on the nearby rack, the curve of his taught, perfect butt faced her direction. Mara drew a deep breath and tried to control her racing pulse.

Focus on some other part of him instead.

In spite of their size, his long-fingered hands moved with such grace that she imagined them dancing across her body.

Mara’s brow furrowed. It was the first time since the attack that she’d been aroused by the thought of a man touching her.

It’s kind of long, she said. If you only have an hour or so, I understand.

I’m in no hurry.

I really appreciate this. She met his gaze and her stomach fluttered. She’d never seen eyes like his, completely honest, yet harboring a million secrets. They were strong, yet compassionate, and seemed to look straight into her soul.

The constant fear she lived with told her to walk away from him and not even bother with the translation, but something urged her to stay. Inside, she struggled. Common sense, fear, and attraction battled fiercely. Curiosity, she told herself. She wanted his skills for translation, but as a man, he didn’t interest her.

Lie. What a pitiful lie.

It’s my pleasure. It’s nice to see another American.

Are you here on vacation?

Business, really. And visiting a friend.

Mara nodded. She had one friend. Charlie. And they hadn’t talked in months.

Adam studied her for a moment. Are you all right?

She drew a deep breath and forced a smile. Of course. Whenever you want to start.

"Lords of the Moon. It’s a collection of legends from several countries. The oldest stories are from Africa and Greece, and many have been translated roughly from symbolic languages."

"Lords of the Moon. Are they vampires?"

Yes. He met her gaze. Funny. Most people would have thought werewolves.

I’ve read a lot about these things. Werewolves are controlled by the moon. Vampires are more of a force to be reckoned with. They channel power for their own means.

Interesting. After we finish with this book, you’ll have to tell me more about your studies.

You’re interested in the occult? I never would have suspected.

Why not?

Mara shrugged. You don’t look like the type, that’s all. But I guess most of the time people aren’t what they seem to be.

He smiled almost imperceptibly and gazed at the book.

Most of the stories revealed little new information regarding the object of Mara’s obsession. Instead of concentrating on what he was saying, she focused on the sound of his voice. Though he spoke softly, she heard power in his deep tones. Unconsciously, she leaned closer to him.

—shared a meal with the Baron’s guests. When they all retired, drunk and sleepy, he drained them of life, all but one servant who appeared two days later—

Wait, wait She snapped to attention, staring at the age-yellowed page. Did you say he shared a meal? He ate?

Adam skimmed the paragraph and nodded. The demon shared a meal with the Baron’s guests.

And what happened to the servant?

She appeared two days later dressed in her burial robes. The mob burned her to ashes.

I’ve never heard of vampires eating. Mara chewed her lower lip. Are you sure this story isn’t about a ghoul or something?

Why wouldn’t they eat?

Because they’re dead

They’re dead. He drew a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, thoughtful. They’re dead, yet they walk and talk and drink.

They drink blood. Real humans would vomit if they drank blood.

Just because they’re not human doesn’t mean they’re supernatural.

So what are you saying, they’re some kind of animal? Something natural?

Why not?

Mara met his gaze, her lips tightening with scarcely controlled anger. Are you laughing at me?

I’m just trying to toss out different thoughts. You wanted to find uncommon knowledge, right?

I guess. So you believe vampires are another kind of animal?

It’s an idea. Even if they are supernatural, what makes us think this world isn’t connected to the spirit world? I mean, many people believe when we die, the soul is released from the body, therefore an afterworld exists.

What about atheists?

I guess they’d have to believe vampires are another form of life, if they exist at all.

Life. Mara shook her head. They’re creatures of death.

Human beings kill each other all the time. Are they creatures of death?

She wrinkled her nose. They? Don’t you mean we? Yes, I guess there are monsters in every species. I know that for a fact.

Looking down at her hands twisting on her lap, she tried to ignore how his gaze burned into her. What else does it say? Not to be pushy, but you can skip the cliché stuff. Anything that deviates from the normal garlic and sunlight junk you can leave in.

He bent toward the book, flipping quickly through the pages.

God, I can’t even read English that fast let alone a dead language. You’ve got to be a language expert or something.

My father is. I learned a lot from him.

Here. In this passage, it says they can walk by daylight, but their power fades unless invoked by fear, anger, or lust.

Lust? Physical lust?

I believe so.

I thought after they changed they lost their ability to have sexual relations in the traditional manner.

He smiled. What a boring way to spend such a long life.

They get their pleasure from drinking blood.

I thought blood was food?

Food. Love, if they can feel it. Sex. Blood is everything to them. Or so I’ve read. The idea that such creatures can have sex is so wrong.

Adam tilted his head slightly to one side, his smile fading. You take all this very seriously.

They’re vermin. They steal what’s not theirs. Soul-sucking rapists— Mara stopped abruptly. Sorry. You must think I’m a raving maniac.

Studies like this can really drag you in, but that’s part of the excitement, isn’t it? To think ‘what if these creatures are real?’ It would give a whole new view of the world.

A frightening view. Does the book say anything about killing one? Do sunlight and stakes through the heart really work?

He skimmed several chapters. Here’s a section on it. In most cases, they have an aversion to sunlight which brings me back to the theory they’re simply another form of animal. Some humans have sun sensitivity.

Okay. So some vampires have a sun allergy. Mara smiled. You like to play devil’s advocate?

I guess it’s my personality. I’m always curious.

You must be, in order to be sitting here with me.

You did catch my interest.

Mara tensed. The last thing she wanted was a man to come on to her. Since her attack, other than a couple of casual dates with a friend from her college, she’d been sickened by the thought of going out with anyone. Adam didn’t sicken her, however. He seemed nice enough, but many women who got butchered by psychos probably thought the same thing about their attackers.

I’m sorry. His brow furrowed. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.

You didn’t.

I was going to ask if you’d like to have dinner with me, but that’s probably a bad idea for you right now.

Her first impulse was to refuse, to walk away and forget about him and the book and continue researching on her own.

There’s a plaza across the street. I guess we could get something there.

Great. Smiling, he closed the book and picked up her jacket for her. I’ll ask them to hold the book. I can translate the rest tomorrow, if you like.

I really don’t want to be any more trouble.

No trouble. I haven’t had such an interesting conversation in a long time. Usually my father is the only person who indulges my weird tastes.

He sounds like quite a guy.

He is.

And your mother?

It’s just me and him. He adopted me, actually. My birth parents were killed when I was very young.

Oh, I’m sorry.

His words served as a reminder that she wasn’t the only one in the world with problems. Maybe some company was exactly what she needed. If only she didn’t feel so nervous about sharing dinner with him.

What’s your family like? he asked. Any brothers or sisters?

A younger sister. She’s perfect. Good career, successful husband, two-point-five kids. My complete opposite.

I think there’s a lot to be said for individuality.

Mara lifted her chin. Yes, I guess there is.

They stepped into the dark, rainy street.

What’s your name? Adam asked.

She looked up at him, stunned. Had she actually spent all evening with him and not disclosed her name? She really was spending too much time with her head buried in books. God, how rude of me. Mara. My name is Mara.

Mara. That’s pretty.

I always thought it was kind of blah.

Not at all.

* * *

Walking alongside Mara, Adam noticed that she observed every person and each passing car. Though she kept her shoulders straight and her steps sure, he sensed her apprehension. Whether it was directed at him he wasn’t certain.

The more time he spent in her company the more appealing she became, especially the delicious curves she kept buried beneath her baggy clothes. The outline of her full, rounded breasts against her sweater made his libido sing. How would they feel pressed against his chest? At the thought of her small, human hand stroking him, his fangs ached to unsheathe. Her legs were rather long for her insignificant height, her buttocks prominent yet firm.

Adam forced his thoughts away from the sexual feelings she stirred. In the library, he’d listened to her racing pulse and smelled her desire for him, but he’d also caught the heavy sent of fear. This woman had issues she needed to face before he could even consider indulging in his fantasies about her.

They stepped into the florescent lights of the mall and took seats at a booth in a small, colorfully decorated restaurant. A waiter brought them menus. Adam watched Mara read hers.

You speak Spanish well, Adam remarked.

My mother is fluent, and I have a friend who lives on the outskirts of Madrid. He’s been a great help since I’ve been here.

Adam smiled slightly. Boyfriend. Of course she’d have a boyfriend. It must be difficult having a long distance relationship.

She stared at him blankly.

You and your friend? he asked.

It’s not like that. We’re acquaintances, really. He’s a friend of my best friend’s husband. He’s a little weird.

"Your friend’s husband or his Spanish friend?

* * *

Mara took a sip from her water glass and stared across the table at Adam and considered his question. She couldn’t decide who was weirder, Jocelyn or his friend, Brett.

Both of them. Very weird. Secretive, but I guess I can understand that.

The waiter interrupted to take their orders. Mara stared at her fingers as they twisted her napkin. She’d never admitted to anyone the strangeness she felt around Jocelyn, yet she hadn’t lied about how helpful Brett had been since her arrival in Spain. He’d even offered her a room in his home. Though Brett’s mansion was quite a showplace, Mara had no desire to become the houseguest of any man, particularly one so young and handsome. What if he decided to come on to her? She didn’t think she was ready to handle either a date or a refusal of one.

Then what the hell are you doing here with Adam, and why are you telling him so much about yourself?

Though Adam was very attractive, he didn’t seem threatening. He wasn't cocky or obsessed with his good looks. Common sense told her she should avoid him. She had no idea what he was really like, and he was so damn big.

Since her attack, Mara had continued her study of martial arts under the instruction of Charlie and Jocelyn, both of whom were experts. Though confident that she could protect herself against most attackers, she doubted she could fend off Adam, especially if he had any fighting experience. Jocelyn and his friend Brett were slightly over six feet tall, but Adam was at least a head taller than both of them. She was all of five feet three inches.

How about you? She folded her hands on the table. You speak Latin, Spanish. Evidently your linguist father taught you a lot.

Education is very important to him, and to me.

What do you do for a living?

Up until this year, I taught high school Latin.

Funny, Mara murmured.

He looked amused. Boring, maybe, but funny?

No, I mean my best friend Charlie’s husband is a history professor. I’m not usually attracted to that kind of— She blushed deeply. God, I must be tired. Please ignore everything I just said.

He smiled. I’m not sure I want to.

Believe me, ignore it. I’m not relationship material. Not that I’m saying you want a relationship—

How about a friend? Could you use another of those?

Mara sighed. He had no idea how much she needed a friend. Even though Brett had been generous and supportive since she’d arrived in Spain, she couldn’t confide in him. He was young and frivolous, just like she had once been. Over the past year, she’d grown up fast and changed from a trusting, open-minded girl to a cynical, fearful woman. Sometimes she’d recall flashes of what it was like to be happy and unafraid.

She could have phoned Charlie, talked to her any time, but how could she tell anyone the truth about her suspicions regarding her attacker, especially when her friend assured her the man was dead. Charlie’s mother, a psychic who had helped police discover dozens of missing persons, had sensed that the monster who’d raped Mara was dead. Of course she would sense he was dead, if he was a vampire as Mara suspected

Mara’s lips parted. Though she wanted to keep the conversation going, she was unsure of what to say.

Adam leaned closer, attentive, but Mara was saved from more small talk by the waiter arriving with their food.

She glanced at her soup and sandwich. Looks good.

Nodding, Adam bit an olive in half. Mara choked on her first spoonful of soup when she saw two sharp, glistening teeth sever the olive’s green flesh.

Are you all right?

Mara’s wide eyes focused on his mouth as he spoke. Other than a slight overbite, his teeth were normal. You’re losing your mind, Mara. Now everyone you see is a vampire.

I’m fine. She forced a smile. You must think I’m the clumsiest person in the world, dropping all those books last night, choking on my food...

You just seem to have a lot on your mind.

Yeah, I guess I do.

Probably all those horror books you’re reading. Maybe you should try the poetry section.

She laughed. I’m not the poetry type. All those thees and thous and red roses are lost on me.

Maybe you never heard it read right.

I suppose you can quote Shakespeare like a pro, too.

He took a drink of water, his throat moving sensually with each swallow. His neck was thick and powerful, yet long enough to be aesthetically pleasing. More than that. The man had an absolutely perfect body. Just looking at it quickened Mara’s pulse in a way she’d best not think about.

So what’s your job? he asked.

This should be my last semester in college. I’m a liberal arts major. Instead, I’m over here, chasing demons.

What demons?

The ones in books.

Demons aren’t only in books.

Her gaze flew to his, and her body tensed. This was it. He was about to reveal the maniac hidden beneath his nice-guy façade. What do you mean?

We all have demons inside us. We all have fears, but we can’t let them destroy us.

Releasing a breath of relief, she sipped more water before responding. Not everyone has a choice.

It was his turn to avert his eyes. That’s true enough.

Mara studied him carefully. He seemed to have everything—sinfully good-looks, intelligence, self-confidence. What kind of demons could a man like that possibly have, except maybe she-devils wanting to dive into his snug jeans?

While they ate, they abandoned their morbid conversation for discussions about the weather and sightseeing. When the waiter came, Adam took the bill.

You don’t have to do that. Mara panicked at the idea that their dinner remotely resembled a date.

You can get the next one. If there is a next one. Don’t worry, I won’t quote Shakespeare or Byron or anything.

Mara drew a deep breath and pushed a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. Though her heartbeat fluttered and her stomach tightened so that her recent meal weighed like lead in her belly, she found herself saying, Same time tomorrow?

Adam smiled. I’ll be at the library. Can I walk you to your hotel?

I’ll take one of the cabs out front.

Outside, he took her notebook from her hand, slipped the pen out of the spiral binding, and scratched a message on the last free page.

My hotel name and phone number, he explained. I know what it’s like to be in a strange place. Sometimes you need a friend. If you ever want to talk—

Thank you. Snatching the notebook from him, she slipped into a cab. If he thought she was going to give him the name of her hotel, he wasn’t as smart as he looked. See you tomorrow.

Tomorrow. He waved.

* * *

Adam watched Mara’s cab coast down the street and disappear around a corner. Drawing a deep breath, he tried to restrain the attraction burning inside him. She was absolutely adorable. Earlier, when she’d laughed, his pulse had actually quickened at the giddy and sweet sound. Too bad she didn’t laugh more often, but the longer he spent with her, the more he understood why. He’d been drawn to her at the library, not only because of her preoccupied look and her choice in reading, but because he sensed that she knew more about the occult world than she let on. She’d been bitten, of that he was sure. Whoever did it had certainly botched the job, or perhaps had derived pleasure from her fear.

Unfortunately some vampires were like that. Terrifying their victims provided them with an orgasmic rush that could only be surpassed by actual killing. Obviously the creature who’d taken her had left her alive for a reason. Maybe he wanted to haunt her. That was something Adam wouldn’t let happen. Whether she wanted one or not, Mara now had a protector.

Adam walked through the streets of Seville. Rain pelted the sidewalk. It dampened his coat, hair, and neck, yet he didn’t mind. He enjoyed the rain. Its rhythm soothed him as he thought about the evening he’d spent with Mara. The woman aroused so many questions. Her comment about not everyone having choices was too true. Some people were born for a certain purpose, whether they wanted to fulfill that purpose or not. Some things were inside, growing since birth. Clawing, twisting, blossoming, both good and evil. A man could as easily become one as the other. Sometimes the line between decent and wicked was so fine that no one, not theologians or scientists, could decide who was damned and who was divine. Adam always believed that everyone possessed a bit of good and bad. All people existed in self-made purgatories.

He turned down a series of narrow alleyways. Men and women sheltering in doorways groped each other. Their panting breaths echoed above the blare of radios and laughter from parties of teenagers dancing on the top floors of rickety apartment buildings.

Some nights, no matter how many hours he spent walking, searching, he never found what he was looking for. It had been several weeks already, and in spite of the meal he’d just shared with Mara, he was ravenous. The need had plagued him for days, but he’d ignored it. Only when days became weeks did the symptoms of starvation become harder to control. If Mara hadn’t interested him so much, he would have spent the entire night hunting. Oh, he could seek fulfillment by day, but most of his prey still slept by light, preserving old habits. Not that he blamed them. Sunlight appealed to him even less than to hybrids, vampires made by bite. There were some disadvantages to being Immaculate, a born vampire.

The night grew darker. Storm clouds shielded the moon. Thunder rumbled in the distance and rain fell more heavily. So much liquid and still so much thirst.

Suddenly he heard it. Two heartbeats in perfect sync, one a bit more powerful than the other. Even the rain couldn’t erase the scent of blood.

His pace increased though his booted feet moved silently on the tar. Down the next narrow street, a man loomed over a woman sprawled on the hood of a parked car. She tore at her captor with feeble hands, the scent of her terror strong on the breeze. The man’s face was buried in her shoulder as he lapped an open wound in her flesh, grunting like an animal in heat.

Disgust and desire battled within Adam. Disgust at another hybrid taking advantage of his gift and desire for the creature’s blood—the only blood that ensured his survival.

The hybrid glanced up, narrowing his pale green eyes at Adam who stood in the shadows.

The hybrid released the woman abruptly. She slid to the sidewalk. Whimpering, she crawled toward an apartment house door.

Adam’s gaze never broke contact with the hybrid’s as he strode toward him. The creature bared his gory teeth and leapt over the car at Adam.

Adam shifted his stance slightly and struck his attacker with the back of his fist. The other vampire smashed into the side of the brick apartment house. Dazed, the hybrid pushed himself off the wall. Adam opened his mouth slightly, his fangs sliding from sheaths high in his gums.

The hybrid’s eyes widened with terror before he fled down the street. Adam gave chase, his long legs swallowing the distance between himself