The Night Series - Entire Series Boxed Set : New World Immortal Mayan Vampire Romance, Page 2

  With a smile that said he had every intention of seeing her again, he tipped his head. “Buenos noches, Kate Bradley.”

  Her heart raced and her palms sweated when she realized he meant to leave. No man made her palms sweat. Ever.

  His gaze held hers for a moment, full of unspoken promises she didn’t understand. Without another word, he walked away.

  Kate willed him to turn toward her one last time. It would be easy to get addicted to the way his gaze caressed her, entrancing her with his full attention. She wet her lips and shook her head slowly, struggling to break the spell.

  A strange man had flirted with her in a dark courtyard. Hello! Huge danger signal for a woman alone.

  But she never felt threatened. As if she’d met him before.

  “Who was that?” Lori tucked her camera inside her bag.

  “He said his name was Calisto Terana.”

  “He looked sexy from where I stood. Yum!” Edie grinned.

  Lori nudged her with her elbow. “Looks can be deceiving. Why was he loitering after Mass and hitting on Kate?”

  There went Lori, being overprotective, like Kate was her younger sister instead of a peer. Kate rolled her eyes. “He wasn’t hitting on me. He was a complete gentleman.” She paused, glancing in the direction he’d gone. “Old fashioned.”

  Lori hooked her camera bag over her shoulder. “You didn’t give him your number, did you? Old fashioned or not, you don’t know anything about this guy.”

  “Yes, Mom! I’ve been a single adult just as long as you have, remember?”

  Lori hooked her arm through Kate’s. “I still worry about you. You’ve been through a lot lately. I don’t want anyone to take advantage of you.”

  Kate relaxed, though she still chafed at being treated like a child. “Believe me, I don’t want that either.”

  Part of her was shocked she even considered looking at another man. A couple of weeks ago she wanted to wipe all the bastards off the face of the earth, and then tonight a gorgeous guy with an accent and a healthy dose of manners suddenly had her heart racing. Go figure.

  They started toward the car. Kate peeked over her shoulder, wondering where Calisto had gone. No doubt it was for the best that he walked away when he did.

  But secretly she wished he had asked for her number.

  Edie unlocked the car. “What kind of name is Calisto anyway? It doesn’t sound Mexican.”

  “Maybe Spanish?” Lori said.

  Kate replayed the way he said her name. “He did have an accent. Not quite Mexican though. Maybe he is from Spain.”

  “Oh, I love accents.” Edie pretended to shiver. “Why don’t I ever meet handsome foreign men in dark courtyards?”

  “Get in the car already.” Lori smiled.

  Their banter continued as Lori pulled out of the mission’s parking lot toward Old Town, but Kate wasn’t listening anymore. At the other end of the lot she saw him standing in the moonlight.

  Calisto.

  He stared right into her eyes. Even at this distance, the heat of his gaze flushed her skin, and her breath caught in her throat.

  What if she never saw him again? A knot of panic tightened in her stomach.

  He watched them roll down the driveway, bowing his head before turning to walk back into the shadows. Kate sighed and finally faced forward, chastising herself for acting like a love-struck teenager. The last thing she needed right now was a relationship. She’d just been burned so badly that she took a leave of absence from her teaching job and left the state of Nevada.

  How could she stomach even looking at another man?

  She stared out the window and smiled in spite of herself. Calisto didn’t seem like any other man she’d ever met. Against her better judgment, she caught herself hoping they would meet again.

  1775

  She was dead.

  Part of him still could not, or would not, believe it. Even now as he covered her body with dirt, he imagined this was a foul dream. Still clothed in his missionary robes, Father Gregorio Salvador prayed he would awaken to the sound of her laughter, or see her dark eyes sparkle with shared humor again. Tala had the most beautiful dark brown eyes with a tiny hazel crescent at the bottom of her right iris.

  She used to smile at him every time he told her she had the moon in her eyes.

  His jaw clenched. He would have his vengeance.

  As he laid the bundle of large, white Romneya flowers over her grave, his tears fell onto the freshly turned soil covering her body, like raindrops darkening the sandy dirt. The sight brought him to his knees.

  He knelt at her grave, silently begging the God he once served for answers. Was it wrong to love her? Was God so unforgiving of their sin that He sought to take her life and damn his soul? They had hurt no one. He had broken his covenant with God, yet she was forced to pay his penance with her life? Why punish her?

  But he already knew. What greater punishment could he suffer than to go on living without her? He was certain no deeper pain existed.

  Surely God knew he had been no more than a naive boy when he took his vows in Spain.

  He buried Tala at the edge of the cliff where they met in secret during the warm summer evenings to watch the sun set over the water and color the sky. He hoped her soul would find peace there. Taking the rosary beads from his neck, he laid them over the flowers covering her final resting place. He would never touch another rosary. God had forsaken him, punished him for loving her, and he wouldn’t serve Him any longer.

  Kissing his fingertips and touching the flowers, he whispered, “My love forever.”

  He tugged at his collar, and then stripped off his robe. Clothed only in his black wool pants and sandals, Father Salvador walked into the darkness of the hills. He couldn’t bear to look back.

  Calisto watched her until the car faded away into the night. The Old One’s promise had finally come true. With his heightened vision, he had seen the lighter crescent of color in the lower corner of her iris. He recognized her in an instant. She had the moon in her eyes.

  Tala, his love, lived again.

  Her features were familiar, but not exactly as she had once been. Her skin was lighter now and the angle of her jaw softer, but her long black hair and her eyes had not changed. Hearing her voice, seeing her smile, brought back memories of a life they once shared.

  The sound of her laughter was like a burst of sunlight in his endless night.

  But Kate Bradley wasn’t Tala. She had no memory of him. It was a bittersweet moment to see her face again, yet be unable to touch her. Although she didn’t seem to fear him as a stranger, she also didn’t recognize him as a lover.

  He knew nothing about her life now.

  The desire to touch her had overwhelmed him. He yearned to taste her lips and hold her in his arms. There would be time for that later, he promised himself.

  It would have been simple to reach for her thoughts and learn her secrets, to become exactly the man she desired, but he denied himself the intrusion. He vowed not to use his preternatural power to entrance her or to listen to her private thoughts. He’d given up his mortality, his soul, for this moment, this second chance, and if she fell in love with him again, he needed to know it was real. No other person had ever touched his life like she had. Though she was no longer Tala, surely a piece of the soul he once loved lived inside of her.

  Calisto walked into the shadows, wondering if she still sang with a voice that rivaled the angels. Would she dance with him in the waves of the Pacific as they had centuries before?

  He was anxious to find out. How long had it been since he’d been eager for anything? A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Kate Bradley.

  He would see her again. Soon.

  Clearing his thoughts, Calisto opened himself to his animal spirit, allowing the raven to take shape in his mind. Gradually, the air around him sparked with energy as his body shifted and changed from a tall, dark-haired man into a large, jet-black raven. Fully changed, he shook his body and
stretched out his wings before launching himself into the air. Silently, he soared with the wind and winged his way through the night sky.

  Chapter Two

  Blood marred the stone wall of his modest dorm room. His knuckles stung each time his fist slammed into the rough rock. Pain cloaked the bitterness and rage that festered inside him.

  The monsignor had passed him over. Denied his chance at his destiny.

  Again.

  It would be Brother Cardina who would fly across the Atlantic Ocean to San Diego. Brother Cardina would watch over the Night Walker and witness immortality with his own eyes.

  Grinding his teeth together, he struck the wall once more, imagining it was Brother Cardina’s pious face, but he held back, careful not to hit too hard. Bruised and bloodied flesh could go unnoticed within the ancient walls of the Fraternidad Del Fuego Santo, but broken bones would not help his cause.

  Pain burned up his arm, calming him. He stepped back and basked in the ache.

  Brother Cardina was no match for an immortal blood drinker.

  He moved closer to the wall, drinking in the earthy scent of his blood. He would get his chance. Staring at the fresh crimson stain, he stuck out his tongue and allowed himself a long, slow lick. He closed his eyes and smiled, resting his cheek against the wall. For now, he would be patient.

  Clenching his raw fists, he opened his eyes and stared at his pencil sketches of ravens. His chance would come.

  Soon.

  “Go with God,” Calisto whispered as he tossed the lifeless body into the ocean far from the shore. Although he had forsaken religion centuries before, his victims might still find a merciful afterlife in spite of their many sins. He hoped, for their sakes, they would.

  The Pacific waves lapped at the Southern California beach. The ocean was a perfect disposal for his meals. The sea drank them into itself, and the bloodless corpses sank to the depths of the ocean, food for the marine life. In the cold waters, it took weeks for the bodies, or what remained of the bodies, to float to the surface. If they did wash ashore, the decomposition made it virtually impossible to determine the exact cause of death.

  Not that it mattered. If pathologists did discover the true cause of death, he doubted they would link the deaths to someone with no boat and no records of accessing one. And how would they explain bloodless victims with no discernable wound?

  No one spoke of Night Walkers anymore except as merely folk tales.

  Blood drinkers in Europe had called themselves vampires years before Calisto ever heard the word, but they knew nothing of what it meant to be a true Night Walker. He despised the glamour that went with the ridiculous name they adopted. He found very little romance in death, even less in immortality.

  As the years passed his strength and power grew, making him less of a man and more of a monster. He’d slowly changed into a hunter stalking his prey. He fed on the refuse of humanity, killers, drug lords, and child abusers, then gave his victims’ bodies to the sea.

  Vampires were for movie screens and romance novels. And he would never think of himself as one of them. He was a Night Walker. But it didn’t matter what he called himself in this modern world. No one believed in his kind, regardless of the label they used.

  He wouldn’t believe it himself if he weren’t already living in endless night.

  But tonight his existence changed forever. After over 200 years of waiting, he saw Tala smile again, heard her laughter. He felt more human than he had in centuries. Though newfound hope lightened his spirit, he had to remain patient and proceed with care and caution.

  He needed to get to know her again, and for her to know him.

  But what if she didn’t fall in love with him this time?

  He stopped walking to look at the moonlight shimmering on the waves. Could fate be so cruel to show him her face again, to let him know she lived once more, only to have her push him away? As many times as he had dreamed of this day, it never occurred to him she might not want him.

  His jaw tightened. She smiled at him tonight. She’d seen him watching her as she drove away. Something inside of her remembered him. He felt it.

  Or was he blinded by hope?

  Calisto continued down the sand until he reached his home. He wanted to see her again. Surely after waiting lifetimes for her to return, he had been patient enough. He didn’t want to endure one more night without her.

  Music blared, interrupting his thoughts. Through the windows of his home, charity patrons mingled and laughed. He’d hoped the benefit party would be over before he got back. He was in no mood to entertain a room full of wealthy mortals. Not tonight.

  Tonight he wanted to relive the moment Tala smiled at him. He had forgotten the way the moon sparkled in her dark eyes, and the way her full lips curved in a welcoming smile. If only he could have touched her.

  With a determined sigh, he closed his eyes and focused his thoughts. As he approached his front door, he straightened his clothes. Certain no traces of his victim’s blood stained him, he pulled open the door.

  “Calisto! What a wonderful surprise.” Betty took his newly warmed hand as he entered. “I was afraid you might not make it. The party has been a huge success. Come, I’ll introduce you around.”

  “No. Forgive me, Bettina.” He raised her hand to press a kiss to the back of her fingers. She enjoyed hearing her full name with his Spanish accent. Flattery came easily for an immortal with the power to persuade and years of practice. Although he regretted toying with her, tonight it was a necessary evil. “I do not mean to be rude, but I am too weary from my business trip to entertain guests. Please continue to make use of my home, but I must retire to my room and rest.”

  “Oh, I understand completely,” she said with an almost giddy smile. “I’ll start wrapping up the party down here. Don’t worry about a thing.”

  “I never do.” He went upstairs to his room, and closed the door behind him.

  Within a half hour Betty’s heels clicked against the Spanish tile foyer floor, echoing through the empty house. She had cleared the guests, proving again the wisdom of his decision to elevate her to Director of Foundation Arts. Not only was she intelligent, loyal and hardworking, but her infatuation with him also made it easier to hide his true nature from her. She rarely questioned him, and for an immortal to live among mortals, it was imperative they take him at his word.

  However false it might be.

  “Calisto?” Betty knocked on the door.

  He already knew what she would say. Her thoughts were an open book to him, but he thought it best to keep up appearances. “Come in, Bettina.”

  His dark hair hung loosely around his face, freed from the band he used to keep it tied back. He sat on the edge of his king-sized bed as she opened the door. Betty was the only person to ever see him in such a casual state.

  She tried to hold back a smile. “The house is all yours again. Everyone’s gone.”

  “Thank you. I wish I had been a better host for you tonight.”

  She smiled and shrugged a bare shoulder. “No problem. Everyone was thrilled to be inside your home. We raised close to one hundred thousand dollars tonight.”

  “You did a wonderful job.”

  Her expression said she hoped for more from him, but he couldn’t focus on small talk.

  Leaving flowers at the mission in memory of Tala usually left him feeling despondent, but tonight had been the opposite. Tonight, he wrestled against hope instead of bitterness. Fate finally offered him a second chance at love and happiness.

  “Well, I guess I’ll go then,” she said. “I’ll be in the office in the morning.”

  “I will be out of town again, but perhaps we can set a meeting for Tuesday night? You can update me on anything needing my attention.”

  She pursed her lips for one brief second and then assumed her usual professional expression. When he hired Betty, he explained she would probably not work with him often. Even so, he knew she didn’t expect his frequent trips, but she kept her
opinions to herself. Working for an influential philanthropist, she expected some eccentricities. He paid her well, and it wasn’t her place to inquire of his whereabouts. Every once in a while, he mentioned details about trips abroad to his homeland in Spain, and she seemed satisfied with his explanation.

  “Tuesday night is fine,” she said. “How about six o’clock? We could meet somewhere for dinner.”

  “Perfect. Just leave a note to let me know where I am to meet you.” He loathed computers and e-mail.

  “I will.”

  He stood and worked at the buttons on his shirt. “Good night, Bettina, and thank you.”

  Her all-business nod indicated she realized he wasn’t in the mood for conversation. “Goodnight. I’ll see you Tuesday.”

  And then she was gone.

  He waited until he heard the front door close and the lock turn before leaving his bedroom. He had trained her well.

  When the soft purr of her car’s engine faded into the distance, Calisto went downstairs and sat down at his grand piano. Playing was one of the few activities of late that helped ease the loneliness plaguing him. The music surrounded him in a calming embrace, like a child wrapped in his mother’s arms.

  Over the years, he had become a virtuoso, a product of having centuries to practice. In that time, he had memorized countless masterpieces by Chopin, Mozart, and Beethoven, but right now Rachmaninoff’s “Vocalise” poured from his soul, through his fingertips, making the grand piano ring with emotion.

  The music spoke words he couldn’t recite, and he played with fervor and accuracy only an immortal being could achieve. Tonight the piano sang, not with the bitter ache of emptiness but with hope and the promise of love. Passion built in the melody, and in his mind he saw her eyes shining as he bent to kiss her lips. He closed his eyes as he played, envisioning her body pressed against his, her warm skin enticing him to hold her tighter.

  At the final cadence, his hands remained frozen over the keys, suspending the final chord as it echoed through his empty house. When silence crept around him, Calisto rose from the keyboard and made his way to the secret chamber buried deep within the cliff of his beachfront home.