Dance with Darkness, Page 2

  She swallowed, but it did nothing to help the way her mouth literally watered. Oh yeah, she’d definitely found the source of that tantalizing essence. Her incisors ached to stretch down, to sink into the thin, firm flesh at the side of his strong column of a neck, to see if this man’s blood tasted as good as he smelled…

  No. Oh please, no! She’d never once fantasized about biting someone. Even after first learning she’d been turned, being a vampire had always been about struggling with a disease that had to be controlled, not going around biting people’s necks.

  Then she realized everyone was staring at her. Especially the stranger who had just joined them. She reached for the first thought that came to mind. “I-I’m sorry, I missed hearing your name?” She couldn’t drag her gaze away from his. What was going on here? She would have to leave soon if she couldn’t act more normal than this. She stopped breathing so her head would clear of the effects of his scent.

  “Conor Blake.” He offered a hand for her to shake.

  Don’t take it, Lor! her mind screamed. Too late. His grip was strong, dry and hot around hers, reminding her of the unnatural contrast in their body temperatures. She jerked her hand away, probably too quickly, and his eyes narrowed. Hopefully only because she’d been rude.

  She tried forcing a smile for him and pulled in just enough air through her mouth to speak. “It’s nice to meet you.” More like my own personal brand of hell on earth, she thought. “You must be Chrissy’s father. She has your eyes.”

  Thank heavens she doesn’t have your scent, or I wouldn’t be able to guest teach at her school.

  “Actually, she looks more like her mother,” he corrected, his tone polite, but his eyes grew darker as his cold gaze studied her.

  The couple who had been talking with Lorena drifted away with one last murmured compliment. She managed a smile and a nod to them, then her gaze homed back in on Conor’s. “And is your wife here tonight?” What made her ask that? She should be thinking of polite ways to escape, not delving into this man’s personal life.

  “No. She passed away a few years ago.”

  Chrissy stiffened beside them, making something in Lorena’s chest ache for the girl. Instinctively she reached out to lightly drape an arm around Chrissy’s shoulders.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I’m sure she would have been proud of Chrissy’s dancing abilities. Your daughter has quite a lot of potential.” She gave Chrissy a light squeeze and was gratified when the girl relaxed and smiled up at her.

  Her father seemed to have the opposite reaction. His hands fisted at his sides. “Yes, well, it’s been a long night. We should go, Chrissy.”

  Whoa. Most parents loved to hear when their kids had talent. Conor just looked…murderous. His gaze raked over her face as if he wished he could cut her to ribbons with only his eyes. And this was the man Chrissy claimed was the best dad in the world?

  Chrissy’s shoulders slumped beneath Lorena’s arm. “Aw, Dad, can’t we stay a little—“

  “No, now, Chrissy. It’s getting late. Tell Miss Childs—“

  “Lorena.” She wanted to bite off her own tongue. Why couldn’t she stay quiet? Maybe because she wanted this man to be in a better mood so he’d be nicer to his daughter?

  “Say goodnight, Chrissy,” Conor muttered, his furious gaze never wavering from hers.

  Chrissy gave a heavy sigh. “Okay. Goodnight, Miss Childs. See you on Monday?”

  Lorena forced herself to look down at the girl, but her smile came easily enough. “Yes, Chrissy. I’ll be there, though I’ll probably just be sitting around hanging out with your regular teacher instead of teaching again. Wouldn’t want to hog all Miss Catherine’s teaching time, now would I?”

  Chrissy grinned and gave her another sideways hug. “Okay. See you then!” She stepped forward and took her father’s arm.

  “It was nice meeting you,” Lorena murmured to Conor.

  The muscles in his jaw clenched as he gave a sharp nod. “Yes. It was very…illuminating.” Then he turned and led his daughter away.

  As they left, Chrissy said, “Ooh, Dad, autographed slippers. Can I get one? Please?”

  Lorena turned partially away and reached for a glass of water from a nearby table, but the drink was simply a stage prop. She snuck a sideways glance at the father and daughter now across the room by the front glass doors. Her half sip of water burbled in her throat and choked her. Conor had actually cracked a smile. And not just a polite one. He beamed down at his kid as he paid for the souvenir then handed it to her.

  Maybe he really was as nice as Chrissy had claimed after dance class last week. But if so, then why had he seemed so cold a few minutes ago? Usually Lorena passed for human well enough that she didn’t make others around her uncomfortable. Had her preoccupation with Conor’s tormenting scent made her façade slip?

  She would have to be more careful. And hope to never see, or smell, the too tempting Conor Blake again.

  Chapter 4

  Conor

  Conor gripped the steering wheel so hard the muscles of his hands groaned in protest. Unaware of the fury and cold fear rushing through him, Chrissy switched through the radio stations, trying to find a song she liked.

  He worked to keep his voice even and calm. “So that was the infamous Miss Childs?”

  “Yep. Isn’t she great? And she’s really nice about staying after class to answer questions or just stick around and chat. You’d think she’d be totally stuck up because she’s such a great dancer, but she’s not at all like that.” Chrissy rambled on for another minute before he could get a word in.

  “You stayed late after class last week with her? Where was Rosita?” Their housekeeper had also served as Chrissy’s babysitter all his daughter’s life. She’d never once forgotten to take Chrissy to a sports practice, art class, or dance lesson. And as far as he knew, she’d never been late to pick up Chrissy afterwards either. “I thought Rosita waited in the parking lot during your dance lessons.”

  “She does. But she didn’t mind waiting while Miss Childs and I chatted.”

  Chrissy had been alone with Miss Childs?

  His hands gripped the wheel harder as he fought to breathe. “Sweetheart, hanging around with Miss Childs after class probably isn’t such a great idea.”

  Chrissy’s gaze shot up to his face. “Rosita was mad after all? Why didn’t she say anything to me?”

  “No, I’m sure Rosita didn’t mind waiting a few extra minutes. But…” Aw hell. How could he explain to a twelve year old what he’d learned about her idol? “People aren’t always what they appear to be. Remember how we talked about not being alone with strangers? You know bad stuff can happen. And how much do you really know about Miss Childs?” Obviously not as much as he did now.

  Chrissy scowled, her button nose wrinkling in disgust. “Oh Dad, you’re so paranoid. Miss Childs isn’t a stranger. She’s Miss Catherine’s best friend from way back. And besides, she’s really nice. You act like she might kidnap me or something.” She giggled.

  He clenched his teeth to hold back his instinctive reply. It was the “or something” he was worried about. Because as soon as he’d seen Lorena Childs up close, felt that predatory silver gaze on him, seen the paleness of her too smooth skin even under normal lighting conditions, and felt that icy touch of her fingers, he’d known. Without a doubt, all the childhood stories his parents had told him were true. Vampires did exist. They were dangerous. They did cause anyone with powerful enough blood to feel that warning prickling down their necks and arms.

  And one of them was lurking around his kid’s dance studio.

  “Aren’t you getting tired of taking dance by now?” he suggested, hoping for an easy solution.

  Chrissy gasped and froze in her seat. “No, I’m not. I love dancing. It’s the best thing I’ve ever done.”

  He glanced at her, caught the stricken look in her eyes, and bit back an oath. She looked like he’d just suggested they murder her puppy or something.

/>   “You’re not going to make me quit ballet, are you?” she whispered.

  He should, to keep her safe. After all, the only blood more tempting to a vampire than a regular human’s was a descendant’s. Supposedly the power in their blood called to the vampires somehow. Though Chrissy’s shouldn’t yet since her ability to use power wouldn’t develop for a while.

  Then he remembered how that monster had casually draped an arm around Chrissy’s tiny shoulders, as if in silent warning that she could crush his kid in seconds and he’d be unable to stop her. It was his job to protect his daughter, to keep her safe from the monsters both in the dark and the daylight. Apparently his mother had been right all these years. If he’d taught Chrissy the childhood stories that every adult descendant passed on to their children, he could be honest with her now and explain how dangerous her idol was.

  But he’d never dreamed a vampire would be crazy enough to come to Taylorsville, where a majority of The Clann’s descendants had settled. One of the earliest spells all descendants learned after developing their abilities was how to create fire with a single breath. It was the most important tool for survival if they got lost in the piney woods of East Texas. And it was also the quickest and surest way to kill a vampire. Stakes could miss their target. Heads could duck and avoid decapitation. But blow a breath of fire and the vampires supposedly went running at the mere sight of a flame.

  Not that Chrissy had any hope of creating fire for months yet. But at least she would’ve grown up knowing about the dangers that came with being a descendant if he’d done his job as a parent. Right now, all she thought being a descendant meant was that they had really strange family reunions several times a year in the woods between Taylorsville and the neighboring city of Jackson. His mother had warned him against sheltering her. And now it looked like he was paying for that mistake.

  He glanced at his daughter again and bit back a groan. Her eyes had teared up, and she sat slouched in her seat with her arms wrapped around her waist. Aw hell. If she started crying…

  No, he had to be firm. He was the parent here. “When is Miss Childs supposed to leave?”

  “In three weeks. Though I don’t know why you hate her so much.”

  “Hate’s a pretty strong word. I never said I hated her.” Though how could he not hate anything that put his kid in danger?

  “Then why can’t I keep taking ballet? I really love it, Dad. It’s not like the twirling lessons, or the art classes, or the piano lessons…”

  “Or the horseback riding lessons? Or how about when you played soccer? Or what about basketball camp?”

  She bit her lower lip. “No. Dancing’s better than all of those. I’ve never had as much fun as when I dance. And Miss Catherine says I’m really good.”

  Yeah, and Miss Catherine was best friends with a vampire who said the same thing. “So ballet is pretty important to you, huh?” Something in his chest sank like a slowly deflating balloon.

  She nodded, her eyes round and wide, the desperation in them far too much like her mother’s in the last days of her life. The sight tore at his lungs.

  He needed an alternate strategy, because he was definitely losing this particular battle. Scrambling for options, he considered just how much Chrissy’s safety might be in jeopardy. Her dance classes ended at five each Monday, well before sunset. Vampires might have evolved enough not to burst into flames from the sunlight nowadays, but they were also rumored to be weaker during the daytime and not as aggressive. And he doubted this particular vamp would be dumb enough to attack a kid inside the small studio building where Lorena might get caught by her human friend or a parent.

  Though maybe he’d stop by the dance company’s rehearsals on Monday and have a chat with their star ballerina just for good measure.

  He huffed out a long breath and shook his head. “Fine, you can keep taking ballet lessons. But you have to promise me to be extra careful before and after your lessons. That means no hanging around after class. When class ends, you get your butt to Rosita’s car pronto. Got it?”

  “Because…?”

  “Because I said so.” He cringed. Great. What a night this was shaping up to be. First he’d discovered a vampire was hanging around his kid. And now he’d resorted to using the one parental phrase he’d sworn as a kid he would never use. “And because you never know what might be hanging around outside a dance studio.”

  Chapter 5

  Lorena

  The scent attacked her at the beginning of her solo.

  She’d just risen up en pointe for the start of her fouette sequence when it hit her, sliding up her nose and down her throat like fingers that scratched at her stomach. She closed her eyes for the briefest of seconds against the sensation, but even that was too long.

  As her foot slipped and she hit the wooden floor of the stage, a sickening snap filled the air, followed by several gasps from her fellow dancers. Pain exploded in her right ankle, and she wrapped both hands around the joint. Oh no. Not now, not in front of all these dancers.

  Jon and the two corp dancers rushed over. Their frightened questions blended together, muffled beneath the roaring in her ears.

  “Is it broken?” Jon demanded, his eyes wide with horror as he tried to reach for her ankle. She used her elbow to knock his hand away. “Lor, are you all right? Someone get the doctor!”

  “No!” Her voice came out at a near shriek. The last thing she needed was the company doctor, even though her ankle was decidedly broken. At least the director wasn’t here tonight. She reined in her voice. “No, it’s okay. Really. I just need a few seconds to catch my breath.” As if she needed to breathe. What a joke. All she really needed was a couple of minutes to let the bone heal again without their seeing it. “Just…help me up? I’ll go ice it in my dressing room.”

  “Good idea.” Jon slid an arm around her, his grip gentle as he lifted her to her feet. She kept her weight on her good leg as Jon and the others helped her move. Then she glanced toward the wings. And found the source of that scent waiting for her with a dark scowl. What was Conor doing here? His hands fisted at his sides as he lurched forward a step, almost as if he wanted to help her. The others were too busy to notice the stranger in their midst. But she did. Her eyes locked with Conor’s until the small group led her past and she was forced to look away.

  In the dressing room, she eased down into one of the metal chairs. Jon ran off for a minute then returned with a cold can of soda. “Sorry, it’s all we’ve got. I’ll have someone run out and get you some proper ice…”

  “No, it’s okay.” She made herself smile for Jon as she accepted the can and held it against her throbbing ankle, which was almost healed already. “Actually, my ankle is starting to feel better now. I think it’s going to be okay.”

  “Are you sure?” Jon breathed out, one hand pressed to his chest, the other gripping the back of her chair. “Because I could’ve sworn I heard the bone snap when you went down.”

  She gulped against the tightness in her throat. “I’m sure. It’s going to be okay in a few minutes, I think. Why don’t you guys go ahead and return to rehearsal? I’ll be out there again soon. In the meantime, there’s no reason to hover and waste practice time.”

  Jon grimaced. “As if practice is more important—“

  “It is,” she interrupted, her voice as firm as she could make it. “You don’t want anyone to break their bones for real out there, do you? So you’d better use all the practice time you can get.” Humans were incredibly fragile, yet they didn’t even seem to realize it. Didn’t he understand any one of the dancers in their company could snap a bone and possibly end their career in a split second? And unlike her, their bones wouldn’t heal nearly as fast. “Go on. I’ll be fine, honest.”

  He sighed but nodded and led the others out, pulling the door shut behind him.

  Alone in the dressing room, she let out a sigh of her own. Geez, that was close. If she’d broken a different bone, one more easily visible, how would she have
explained miraculously healing two minutes later? Gingerly she straightened out her right leg and rotated her foot. Yep, already good as new again. Still, she’d better stay in here for a while longer to make it believable. Even if she hadn’t broken her ankle, they would expect her to need at least a few minutes of rest.

  The dressing room door creaked open, and she shut her eyes on a groan. “Jon, seriously. I’m all right.”

  “And that’s what is so interesting.”

  The voice was far too deep to be Jon’s.

  Her head popped up. Conor Blake leaned against the frame of the door, arms crossed over his chest, his mouth twisted into a sardonic smile.

  A second later, the scent hit her, making her suck in a hard breath through her mouth. Oh hell. She could not be in a small, enclosed space with him. Not and be responsible for her actions. The unopened soda can made a loud thunk in the silence as she set it down on the wooden vanity then eased up out of her chair.

  “Should you be standing so soon after breaking your ankle?” he asked.

  Halfway out of the chair, she froze, her hands gripping the edge of the built-in vanity. “I didn’t break it.”

  “That’s not what I saw.” He stepped into the room, closing the distance between them. She turned and stumbled back against the vanity, forgetting to move slowly like a human would. Mere inches away now, he crouched down beside her and grabbed her right ankle. Yet his touch was gentle as his warm hands enclosed the joint. “Hmm, not even a hint of swelling. Interesting.”

  “Like I said, I didn’t break it. You must have been mistaken.” She stepped sideways, keeping her movements slow. His hands slid away from her, but he didn’t stand up. His expression was thoughtful as he studied her. “Our rehearsals are closed to the public, by the way.”