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

a coy smile. When Hell freezes over . Sterling was a notorious playboy, always on the lookout for the next future ex-Mrs. Price.
    She chatted with him another few minutes, relieved when some pouty-lipped starlet with flaming red hair and cleavage she hadn’t been born with called him away.
    Mara spent the next hour flirting with several young men, all of whom were movie-star gorgeous, even though none of them truly appealed to her. They were too young, too pretty, too eager.
    A handsome waiter bearing a candy-laden silver tray paused to offer her a truffle. Lost in thoughts of Kyle, she took it without thinking and popped it into her mouth. Dark rich cocoa and chocolate liqueur flowed over her tongue like liquid silk, followed by a rush of panic. What had she done? She hadn’t eaten mortal food in over two thousand years. She had thoughtlessly nibbled on a fig soon after she had been turned, and been violently ill.
    Not wanting anyone to see her, she hurried toward the double doors leading to the veranda. Outside, she took a deep breath, her hands clutching her stomach, and then she frowned. She didn’t feel sick at all, didn’t feel anything except a strong desire for another chocolate truffle. Maybe two.
    “How can that be?” she muttered. “Mortal food is like poison to us.” Curious, she went back inside, her gaze darting around the room until she spied the same waiter.
    He smiled knowingly when he saw her hurrying toward him. “Delicious, are they not?” he asked with a wink.
    “Very.” Mara picked a plump one from the tray and carried it outside. She ate it slowly, savoring the way the chocolate melted on her tongue, the way it flooded her senses with an odd sense of euphoria.
    Nothing in all the world had ever tasted so good.
    Or scared her so much.
    What was happening to her?
     
     
    Mara noticed several other changes in the course of the next few weeks. Although she could be active during the day, she had always preferred the night. Now, she found herself spending more of her waking hours in the daylight, resting more at night. In the past, she had, on various occasions, been tempted by mortal food, mainly items that were unheard of when she had been mortal—things like ice cream, cheeseburgers, hot dogs smothered in mustard and onions, caramel popcorn, thick-crust pizza topped with ham and pineapple. But she had never dared satisfy her curiosity.
    Three nights after the party at Sterling’s, Mara went to a formal sit-down dinner at the home of a well-known director. Indulging her curiosity, she sampled every course that was placed before her—Maine lobster served on a bed of fluffy, long-grain, white rice, broccoli smothered in butter, a warm fudge brownie topped with vanilla ice cream and drowning in chocolate sauce.
    Later, back at home, she paced the floor, her thoughts in turmoil as she tried to understand what was happening to her. No matter how often she contemplated her burgeoning appetite for mortal food, her diminished lust for blood, and her sudden preference for taking her rest at night, she always reached the same conclusion. Like it or not, she was becoming less vampire and more human with each passing day.
    Was such a thing even possible? And if so, how long would it be until her preternatural longings and abilities were gone and she was once again mortal, subject to all the frailties and weaknesses of the human race?
    She told herself it was inconceivable. She had been a vampire for thousands of years. Once a vampire, always a vampire. It wasn’t a sickness, but a way of life. There was no cure, no going back, even if one wished it. And she most definitely did not. She scarcely remembered what it had been like to be mortal, nor did she have any desire to experience it again. She was Nosferatu, the oldest and most powerful of her kind.
    Any other way of life was out of the question.
    And even as the thought crossed her mind, she found herself craving the taste of a hot fudge sundae like