All these years, she had kept a house but a league away. He had often sensed her presence but, like all vampyres, she was distrustful of others of her kind. She had never sought him out, nor had he gone looking for her, though, in the first days after he had been made, he had thought often of finding her, of destroying her for what she had done to him. Lysandra... She had made him what he was; if there was a cure, she would know it. If not, he would seek his destruction in the arms of the one who had made him.
Muttering an oath, he closed his eyes and sent his thoughts into the night.
"Rayven." Lysandra smiled warily, heartily surprised to find him waiting in her parlor when she arose that night. "Whatever brings you here?"
He felt a ripple in the air as she gathered her power close. "I mean you no harm."
Crossing the room, he took her hands in his. She was the oldest vampyre he had ever known, yet she looked exactly the same as she had when he had seen her last, her luxurious black hair arranged in thick curls atop her head, her eyes as black as pools of ebony beneath thick lashes, her alabaster skin aglow with a pearly translucence.
"Still beautiful," he murmured.
"As are you," she replied. She lifted one pale hand to his hair, smoothing it back from his brow. "But then, we never change, do we?"
"No," he said bitterly. "Never."
"And yet... You are thin, mon petit. What has happened to you?"
"Nothing." He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his trousers. "I want to know if there's a cure for what we are."
"A cure?" She lifted one delicate brow. "You make it sound like some dreadful illness."
"It is the devil's own curse, and I wish to be free of it."
Lysandra frowned. "Whatever for? You look prosperous enough, though a trifle undernourished." Her eyes narrowed. "You've not fed recently, have you?"
"That's none of your concern," he said sharply. He took a deep breath. "Tell me," he said. "Is there a way to end it?"
"A walk in the sunlight, perhaps?" she suggested, the shadow of a smile teasing at her lips.
"Do not play games with me, Lysandra. I want an answer."
"I know of no cure."
His hands curled into tight fists as she spoke the words. "Then I want you to destroy me."
She trailed her finger over his cheek. "Has living become so unpleasant?"
"I can no longer abide what I am. It has cost me too much."
She regarded him through all-knowing eyes, and then smiled. "You've fallen in love with a mortal."
It was not a question, but a statement of fact, neither approving or condemning.
He did not bother to deny it. "Yes."
"There's no need to end your existence, Rayven. Simply bring her over."
"No."
"You would give up immortality for this woman?"
"Do not mock me, Lysandra. Have you never been in love?"
"You surprise me, Rayven. I did not think our kind was capable of such a human emotion."
"I wish that were true." He ran a hand through his hair. "I cannot bear it anymore. I want you to end it.
Now."
"Why not stay here, with me instead?" she suggested. "We could hunt together." She placed her hands on his chest and looked up at him, her dark eyes alight. Her hands slid seductively down his chest, over his belly. "And play together."
Slowly, deliberately, he removed her hands from his body. "I did not come here looking for a hunting partner, nor a bed partner, only a way to end what I am."
He stared at her, watched the emotions chase across her face - disappointment that he would not hunt the night with her, anger because he had scorned her affection, a flicker of confusion because she could not understand his desire to end his existence.
And then he saw the blood lust rise in her eyes, quelling all other emotions. Her lips drew back in a feral smile, exposing her fangs.
He knew a moment of fear, a wave of gut-wrenching regret that he would never see Rhianna again, and then he bared his throat, wondering what it would be like to feel Lysandra's teeth tearing at his flesh again after so many years.
"No!" Rhianna woke, a scream on her lips. "Rayven, don't!"
Moments later, Bevins burst into the room, the candle in his hand sending a wash of yellow light over Rhianna's face. She had lost weight in the weeks since Rayven had left