Old Sins, Long Shadow Read online

  For a split second, Conrad considered entering anyway, to sit in the dark and await his return. But remembering how badly things had worked out the last time he’d tried that, he decided against it. It was with a heavy heart that he turned toward his own suite instead.

  He pushed open the door and paused, startled by the faint, familiar scent lingering in the air. “Damian?” he called softly, not really expecting an answer for, surely, this was nothing more than imagination, just his mind playing tricks on him once again.

  “In here,” Damian replied as he emerged from the bathroom, casually running a brush through his hair.

  Conrad’s eyes grew wide. Not imagination then. Damian was wearing a black silk robe over a pair of matching pajama pants. His chest, or as much of it as was visible, was bare—glistening as though he’d only recently stepped out of the shower. He was dressed for bed, Conrad realized as his gaze traveled back up to Damian’s face. He plans to sleep here. With me.

  A shy smile had curved Damian’s lips. Shy, eager, full of promise. The sort of smile a virginal bride might wear on her wedding night. The irony of that—and the further irony that the expression looked quite fetching and not at all out of place on the face of the far-from-virginal, five-hundred-year-old vampire—was not lost on Conrad. It was a delicious irony. One he wanted to savor slowly and enjoy to the fullest. But could he really take the chance of letting him stay?

  “Is something wrong?” Damian asked as his smile faded, replaced by a look of growing concern.

  Conrad shook his head. “No. Not at all. Of course not. I’m just surprised. I wasn’t expecting to see you here this morning.”

  “Ah.” Turning away, Damian resumed brushing his hair. “Well, that’s a relief. For a minute I feared I was becoming too predictable.” He cleared his throat and cast a sidelong glance at Conrad. “Unless, of course, what you really mean is that you didn’t want to find me here?”

  “No,” Conrad said, taking a few quick steps in Damian’s direction, his hand raised to forestall him, in the event he attempted to leave. “No, of course that’s not what I’m saying. Of course I want you here.” He stopped again, reality intruding. “But…on the other hand, I suppose it might be best if we were each to keep to our own rooms. At least for the time being.”

  “I see.” Very carefully, Damian put his brush down on Conrad’s dresser. Then he turned to face him, chin lifted. “And why is that?”

  Conrad gazed pleadingly at him, feeling, once again, all the shame of his condition. “Must I say it?”

  Damian’s eyes narrowed. “Is this about the nightmares again?”

  “Even so.” He was disgusted by his weakness, by the disgraceful lack of control that made the idea of allowing his lover to sleep beside him too dangerous to consider.

  “Ah, querido.” Stepping closer, Damian wound his arms around Conrad’s neck. “What are you thinking? I’m not afraid of your nightmares, Conrad. You should not be, either. They’re only dreams. They cannot hurt us.”

  “I wish I shared your certainty.” Conrad clasped his hands on Damian’s waist and tugged him closer. “But, surely I’m mishearing things? Was it not you who told me, only hours ago, that a dream was the very thing you feared the most?”

  “That was entirely different,” Damian replied with asperity. “And well you know it. Besides, since then I’ve realized there is something that frightens me much more than any dream ever could.”

  Conrad smiled teasingly. “Why, whatever has happened to the fearless courtier I once knew—the one who feared nothing at all? What is this monstrous thing that so terrifies you, mi amor? Tell me at once, so that I might vanquish it.”

  “My hero.” Damian laid one gentle palm against Conrad’s face and smiled sadly. “But how can you even ask? I was foolish enough to lose your love once already, Conrad. There’s nothing could frighten me half as much as the thought of losing you again. I truly do not believe I could live through it a second time.”

  “Then you’ve nothing to fear,” Conrad assured him. “You’ll hold my heart as long as I draw breath.” He could not suppress the bitter smile that curved his lips as he added, “For what it’s worth, you never did lose me, you know. You left me. It’s a subtle distinction, I grant you, but all the same…”

  “Oh, please.” Damian rolled his eyes. “It was no such thing and you know it.”

  “You didn’t leave me? Truly? Did I only imagine your absence then?”

  “No. You let me go.”

  Conrad frowned. “I do not recall having had much choice.”

  “No choice?” Damian glared back at him. “You ordered me from your home. You all but threw me out the door! If there was anyone who was given no choice in the matter, it was I!”

  “Oh, enough of this!” Conrad growled. “Is this really how you wish to spend what’s left of the night—arguing over past mistakes?”

  “No, no, of course not.” Dropping his head to Conrad’s shoulder, Damian pressed soft kisses all along his neck and murmured, “You’re entirely right. Forgive me, querido.”

  “Hush.” Conrad tightened his grip on Damian’s waist and canted his head to the side, granting his love greater access. Soft kisses were all well and good, but right now what he longed to feel was the sweet sting of Damian’s teeth. “You said it yourself. There’s nothing to forgive.”

  “Then tell me I might stay with you,” Damian whispered, biting gently on Conrad’s ear. “It’s been so long and I have missed you so dreadfully. Please, Conrad, not one more day apart.”

  “We really wouldn’t be that far apart, you know,” Conrad pointed out, even as he undid the belt of Damian’s robe and slipped his hands inside, needing to feel that smooth, bare skin, those hard, muscular planes beneath his palms, if only for a minute longer. “Just down the hall from one another. Why, it’s hardly any distance at all.” Just far enough for safety’s sake.

  “No distance?” Damian bit his ear again—more sharply than before—then his neck, even harder now. Conrad groaned with pleasure. “With several doors and the entire household between us? How can you say so? And how would that be any better than yesterday or the day before? Or the day before that?”

  “I don’t know,” Conrad admitted, his determination wavering. “Perhaps you’re right.” How long could he deny them what they both wanted so desperately? And why even try? He’d have to give in at some point, wouldn’t he? Perhaps it would be all right, after all. Perhaps… His thoughts stalled as his roving hands discovered the ruched and wrinkled flesh on Damian’s upper back. He pulled away. “Let me see.”

  “Conrad, don’t.” Damian’s face had gone white. Ignoring his pleas, Conrad took hold of his shoulders and spun him around, until he was facing away from him. “Don’t look at it,” Damian begged again. “Please.”

  “Be quiet. I need to know.”

  “Ay, Dios,” Damian moaned softly, hanging his head as Conrad pushed the robe from his shoulders, exposing his back in all its devastation. Bile rose in Conrad’s throat. He inhaled sharply. Over the course of the past century, he had managed to mostly convince himself that his memory had been at fault, that the damage he’d inflicted on Damian had been, if not slight, then surely nowhere near as bad as he remembered it. Faced now with the evidence of his crime, he could no longer take refuge in that defense. If anything, his memory had been too kind.

  “Leave me,” he ordered as he turned away. He leaned his fists on the top of his dresser and closed his eyes in despair. Behind him, he could hear the choppy rasp of Damian’s breath, the faint whisper of silk as he wrapped his robe around him. Conrad clenched his teeth and waited, impatient for him to go, wanting only to be left alone with his guilt and his grief. He deserved the misery he was feeling, just as he deserved to be alone. Always alone.

  “Am I so repulsive to you now?” Damian asked at last, his voice low and rough, shaking with emotion. “Is that why you turn away, because you can no longer bear to look at me? Is this how it is always going
to be between us?”

  Startled, Conrad raised his head and met Damian’s eyes in the mirror, met the pain and uncertainty in his gaze. “My love, of course not,” he answered, turning around again to face him. “It’s myself I find repulsive, my own actions. The fact that I could hurt you so badly…”

  “Well, stop it,” Damian snapped taking hold of Conrad’s shoulders and shaking him. “None of that matters anymore. Can you not see that? If anything… If anything, I’m glad for it.”

  “Glad?” Conrad eyed Damian with disbelief. “And how is it you’ve become such a masochist without my noticing it? Forgive me my skepticism, my dear, but I’m certain I don’t recall ever seeing any signs of such a thing in you before.”

  Damian sighed. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s nothing of the kind. I don’t pretend I wasn’t devastated at the time, and for quite a while thereafter. Of course I was. How would I not be? But…only consider, Conrad, if you hadn’t hurt me as badly as you did, would I ever have left you? Of course I would not! And then you would not have left New York when you did, or come here, to this house.” He shook his head. “If you had gone anywhere else, you almost certainly would never have met your Desert Rose. And if by some odd chance you had met her, if we were still together at the time, would you have turned her? No. You’d likely have been quite content to enjoy her blood—and nothing more. Even if you had, by some small chance decided to turn her, the tiniest deviation would likely have changed everything. Her children, if they’d been born at all, would have been born human. And then—”

  “And then they would have been safe,” Conrad finished for him. “They’d both be whole today and happy. I know. Is it supposed to make me feel better to be reminded of how many lives I’ve ruined? How many people I’ve hurt? How many of my loved ones have been forced to pay for my thoughtless actions with their lives or their blood or their pain?”

  “If the twins had been born human they would have grown up to become entirely different people than they are today. We might never even have known them. They most certainly would not have been ours to raise.”

  “No, but what of it? They could have gone on, instead, to lead normal lives among others of their kind and their mother… Well, who’s to say whether she would have died when she did? If our paths had never crossed, she might have gone on to live a long and happy life and raised her children herself, as should have been the case. She might still be alive today.”

  Damian bowed his head. “You are right, of course, and I wish I could say I am sorry for your loss but, in truth, I cannot. You gave me children, Conrad. It was the one thing I wanted and never thought to have and I truly do not believe it could ever have occurred in any other way. Their coming to us when and how they did was a miracle. So, yes, they were born amid much suffering and you, or even they, might wish it had been otherwise. But, for me, although I endured much pain and my body will always be scarred, when I look at all the things I’ve gained as a result… Well, are there not countless mothers in the world about whom the very same things might be said? If you were to ask them all, I doubt whether you’d find even one who would tell you it had not been worth it.”

  It was too absurd. Even despite his grief, Conrad could not help but smile. “Are you attempting to equate my attack upon you to the pains of childbirth? My dear, you have a most peculiar way of looking at things. It’s quite romantic, I will grant you that, but not—I fear—at all realistic.”

  Damian shrugged. “Perhaps. But, realistic or not, it is how I choose to see it.” He gazed sadly at Conrad. “Please, querido, don’t let this shadow stand between us any longer. Have we not both been punished enough for our sins?”

  “Ah, Damian,” Conrad sighed as he pulled him close and wrapped his arms around him. “I do love you. Although I’m not at all certain I deserve you.”

  Damian chuckled softly. “Perhaps not, mi amor, but, please, don’t let it trouble you. For, as it turns out, I am completely confident that I deserve you.”

  About the Author

  When she’s not pestering her husband to help her research scenes for upcoming books, or being amused by her two vastly entertaining children, P.G. Forte can usually be found serving the needs and whims of her characters…or her cats. It’s a difficult job, but someone’s got to do it.

  Originally a Jersey girl, P.G. now resides with her family on the extreme left coast where she writes rule-bending, genre-blending romance and paranormal stories.

  A lover of all things Internet related, P.G. can also be found on Twitter www.twitter.com/pgforte or Facebook www.facebook.com/pgforte

  To learn more, please visit her website at www.pgforte.com. Send an e-mail to [email protected] or join her Yahoo! group to join in the fun with other readers as well as P.G. Forte at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/pgforte/.

  Look for these titles by P.G. Forte

  Now Available:

  Children of Night

  In the Dark

  There’s only one way to safeguard the future—fight free of the past.

  Forbidden: The Ascension

  © 2009 Samantha Sommersby

  Byron Renfield is a master of climbing the social ladder. He’s successful, handsome, independently wealthy…and a vampire. As a member of an elite group of immortals, the Dominie, Byron’s spent centuries isolating himself from humanity in order to pursue redemption. It’s a good plan…until Violet Deeds comes along.

  Violet is beautiful, sexy, outspoken…and human, which makes her completely off limits. His society’s canon may forbid it, but Byron is rocked by a longing so intense that in one impulsive act of passion, he claims Violet as his mate.

  Irrevocably bound together, Byron and Violet enter one another’s worlds, threatening the balance of society and nature. He takes steps to protect them both from the Dominie’s inevitable retribution, but it isn’t enough. Violet is hunted down and kidnapped. If Byron wants a life—any life—with Violet, he must defy the very core of the Dominie itself. And win.

  Warning: This book contains one fabulously feisty redheaded heroine, one hunky holy-man-turned-rebel vampire, a group of corrupt religious zealots, women in chains and plenty of scorching hot sex.

  This book has been previously published and has been revised and expanded from its original release.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Forbidden: The Ascension:

  A knock at the door roused me from my self-pitying stupor. I wasn’t expecting anyone and no one came uninvited. That’s one of the advantages of living on an island. My heart skipped a beat and the palms of my hands began to sweat. Yes, my heart beats and my hands sweat. I’m immortal, not dead.

  “Mr. Renfield?” It was a woman, on the other side of the door.

  I picked up my discarded black cashmere sweater, pulled it on over my head, and hastily combed my fingers through my hair. It was time for a trim. That prompted me to run my hand over my chin to check for stubble. I needed a shave, too.

  The knock came again.

  I padded barefoot toward the front door, trying to remain calm even though my heart rate was increasing with each step. After confirming the door was locked, I laid my hand on the surface of it and closed my eyes. On the other side I detected a human, a woman. I shivered. Her pull seemed unusually strong. Already it was affecting me. All human women were dangerous, but this one…

  “Mr. Renfield?”

  “Yes?”

  What on earth possessed me to answer? I should have just stood there. She probably would have gone away…eventually.

  “It’s Violet. Violet Deeds,” she shouted over the din of the storm. “Could you let me in, Mr. Renfield? It’s awfully cold and wet out here. Grace invited me to stay for the weekend. She said you wouldn’t mind one more. It was so nice of you to—”

  The fact that she was here, at my very door was unbelievable. Was it chance? Kismet? Before I was able to talk myself out of it, I opened the door. I told myself it was only idle curiosity. That I just wanted to get a glimpse of he
r, maybe chat a bit, nothing more.

  “Come in.” I stepped back.

  Violet rushed past me. “It’s a mess out there!”

  I quickly closed the door, then turned to greet her. My breath caught in my throat. She was simply dazzling. Despite the cold, warmth radiated from her body. Her scent surrounded me, enveloping me in an aroma so intoxicatingly delicious it was almost dizzying. It had been a long time since I’d been in the presence of a human woman. I had almost forgotten how enticing they could be.

  I swallowed. Perhaps opening the door had been a mistake. “Grace invited you, here?” I asked as she collapsed her umbrella and leaned it against the corner.

  “Yes.” She extended her hand. “I received her letter about six weeks ago. Grace said she and Fred were going to be with you for a while and she invited me up. I wrote back to confirm. I would have called you personally as well, but…”

  Her hand was small and delicate and it was waiting for me to grasp it. I reached out, slowly, and encircled it in mine. The tips of my fingers began to tingle. A hum spread throughout my body. Her skin was soft, but her handshake was firm and confident. My toes curled, digging into the lush oriental carpet of the entryway.

  “I don’t have a phone,” I finished.

  “Right.”

  Seconds passed before Violet looked down and I realized her hand was still in mine. I cleared my throat and loosened my grip.

  “Sorry. You must be freezing. I have a fire in the living room. Can I take your coat, Miss Deeds?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  I watched, like a starving man, as she unfastened the buttons and peeled the leather off one shoulder, then the other. I was absolutely riveted. The supple-looking black cowhide slid down the length of her long, slender arms, gradually revealing them to me. I noticed immediately how translucent her skin was. The pale blue cast to her flesh reminded me of the blue moon that followed the eruption of Krakatau back in 1883. That night had been surreal, too. I had stood in the streets of Singapore, ash raining upon me. That moon had been a spectacular sight, but not as spectacular as the vision before me.