Night's Mistress (Children of the Night) Read Online Free PDF Page B

knew he had been kidding himself. He would love her until the day he ceased to exist.
    “Have you?” Her gaze searched his, as if she were trying to decide if he was telling the truth. “Missed me?”
    “Every night of my life.”
    “You never came looking for me.”
    “What was the point?” he asked, unable to keep a note of bitterness from creeping into his voice. “You made it clear that you wanted a clean break.” He would have followed her to Hell and back if he had thought she cared at all. But he had his pride. He had been nothing more to her than a momentary diversion; the fact that she had severed the link between them had proved that.
    “It seems fate has decided we should meet again.” She started walking, confident that he would follow. “What have you been doing since we parted?”
    Logan fell into step beside her, shortening his naturally long stride to match her much shorter one. “Trying to keep busy,” he said with a shrug. “Always looking for something I haven’t experienced before.” Which, after nine hundred years, wasn’t easy to find. “How about you?”
    “The same.”
    “I was on my way home,” he said casually. “Would you care to come along?”
    She hesitated a moment, and then nodded. It had been a long time, after all. She was curious to see how and where he lived. There had been many men in her life, but none like Logan. The fire between them had burned brighter than the sun. His power, even when first turned, had been stronger than that of any of her other fledglings. Perhaps it was because he had been arrogant, self-confident, and strong, even as a mortal. It had been those very characteristics that had drawn her to him. He had burrowed deep into her heart. When she found herself caring too much, willing to surrender her will to his, she left him.
     
     
    Logan’s home proved to be a mansion in the hills not far from her own. The large, two-story white house was set behind a tall wrought-iron fence amid well-tended grounds. Sycamore trees lined the long, winding driveway. A veranda spanned the front of the house; wrought-iron bars covered the windows.
    “You’ve done well for yourself, I see,” she remarked as he unlocked the front door.
    He shrugged. “Well enough.”
    He led the way into the house. A large stone fireplace dominated the living room. The furniture was modern and expensive. Her feet sank into the plush dove-gray carpet.
    “Very nice,” she murmured.
    “I like it.” He stood inside the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, while she wandered around the room. She paused to browse the titles on the bookshelf, moved on to examine a small marble statue of Venus that sat on a low table next to a ruby sphinx.
    Moving to the fireplace, she ran her hand over a gold statue. “An Oscar?” She glanced at him over her shoulder.
    “I produced the best picture last year,” he said, a trace of pride in his voice.
    “Really? That’s wonderful, but . . . when did you get into the movie business?”
    “A few years ago.” He gestured toward the sofa. “Please, sit down.”
    She sat at one end of the sofa and he sat at the other. “I was bored,” he remarked, picking up their conversation. “I started hanging out where the stars congregate. One night I overheard some guy saying he had this great idea for a movie but it was so off the wall that no one in the business would give him the time of day. I told him I’d finance him. He made four movies with my backing. The fourth hit the jackpot.”
    “Congratulations.”
    “Thanks.”
    “What did you do before that?”
    He draped his arm along the back of the sofa. “I was a dealer in Vegas for a while. I worked as a bartender at a fancy singles’ club in Chicago. I tried my hand at being a night watchman for a big corporation in Manhattan, but that didn’t last long.”
    Mara nodded. She tried not to stare at him, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. He truly was a magnificent-looking man. She