Night Reigns by Dianne Duvall Read Free Book Online

had bathed his cat?
    More likely he simply hoped that if he avoided her long enough and kept her from doing her job, she would grow frustrated and insist on leaving.
    A board creaked in the hallway.
    Ami’s head snapped in that direction. Aha!
    As quietly as she could, she tiptoed out of the study, down the hallway, and into the armory, arriving just in time to see Marcus—clad only in socks, boxer shorts, and a T-shirt—stepping into specially designed pants that afforded complete protection from the sun.
    Sneaky immortal. He must have thought she slept during the day, must have borrowed one of the d’Alençons’ suits, and intended to head out before she woke.
    “Leaving early?” she asked.
    His head jerked up. Frustration swept across his handsome features before he turned away.
    Ami’s gaze fell to his thighs as he tugged the pants up over them. Heavy with muscle, they sported a sparse coating of curly dark hair.
    Heat blossomed within her. Would that hair be soft or coarse?
    Before she could speculate on what his black silk boxers hid, the heavy material covered them as well.
    Ami strode forward and grabbed the rubber shirt while Marcus zipped up the pants. The ensemble was much like a diving suit, but had a rough, automobile tire-like texture. Immortals generally hated wearing the suits because they were so hot and uncomfortable, so he must be pretty desperate to escape her if he was willing to be stuck in one all night.
    Marcus frowned when she held up the shirt, front open.
    Turning away, he shoved his arms into the sleeves and allowed her to tug it up over his broad shoulders.
    “You might want to focus tonight’s hunt on Winston-Salem,” she suggested. “Several missing person reports have popped up there in the past forty-eight hours, so the vampires must either be hunting or recruiting.”
    He grunted a possible acknowledgment and turned to face her.
    Ami brushed his hands aside and zipped up the front of his shirt herself. Seemingly resigned, he waited impatiently while she armed him with his short swords and daggers.
    When she glanced up at him, his eyes were glowing faintly again. “Do you want to eat before you leave?” she asked, suddenly breathless beneath his intense stare.
    Something flared in his amber gaze. “No.”
    Ami nodded and grabbed the mask that accompanied the protective suit. Her pulse picked up as she rose onto her toes. Reaching up, she brushed his hair—so soft—back from his forehead.
    His eyes brightened. His jaw clenched.
    Ami swallowed nervously and gently pulled the mask down over his face and the raven silk that framed it.
    Those eyes never left her as he reached up and adjusted it.
    A heavy silence fell between them that seemed to last minutes.
    Then Marcus strode from the room—and the house—without another word.
    Her breath emerging in a whoosh, Ami leaned back against one of the wardrobe doors.
     
    Marcus scaled the basement stairs Friday evening, then paused on the landing. Silently urging the door open a crack, he peered into the dim hallway beyond. The doorways that peppered it all lay dark and empty. Light filtered in from the large living room at one end. The stairs above him that led to the second floor were dark.
    Satisfied, he eased into the hallway and soundlessly closed the door behind him.
    A stereo played in the living room, the volume courteously low. Etta James crooned one of his favorite songs: “At Last.”
    Marcus flattened his body against one wall and crept forward, unable to prevent himself from singing along in his head as he kept his ears peeled for signs of his Second.
    Ami had been with him for five days now and was proving to be damned hard to avoid.
    Or ignore.
    He had hoped that if he simply avoided all contact with her, she would grow bored, complain to Seth that she wasn’t needed here, and be reassigned. But that hadn’t worked out so well. Every time he turned around, Ami was there. And, though her smile bore a certain