Cliff’s Descent by Dianne Duvall

Chapter Ten

Emma smiled as she watched Cliff banter with Todd.

Something had changed in recent weeks. Cliff had seemed more relaxed lately, less on edge. She didn’t like to think about it, but for a while there…

Well. The madness that was destined to consume him had appeared to gain a toehold. He had continued to come to the cafeteria, but his easygoing nature had struck her as being blunted somehow. Or maybe more subdued? His handsome smile sometimes seemed forced, as if he knew he should find whatever sparked it amusing, so he made the requisite motions. And he laughed less. His shoulders often looked tight and knotted with tension… or perhaps poised for action. His languid stroll had grown stiffer, as though he believed that controlling every infinitesimal motion of his limbs would enable him to control whatever was going on inside his head. And his eyes had begun to flicker with amber light.

She wasn’t sure if they did that in reaction to something unpleasant his amazing hearing carried to his ears or something transpiring in his head, and she didn’t ask. The luminescence rarely lasted more than a second or two before he brought it under control, so she didn’t want to draw attention to it.

Since no one watched Cliff as closely as she did, most probably hadn’t noticed it. But it had worried her.

Now, however, Cliff’s lips turned up in genuine smiles once more. His deep brown eyes sparkled with mirth as he razzed Todd. He laughed and talked more.

He seemed happy again. Or as happy as a man in his position could be.

Today his gaze strayed to her more often. And his smile seemed to bear some hidden meaning she couldn’t discern, as if he knew a secret and couldn’t wait to share it with her.

Sitting across from him, Emma found herself mesmerized. Her own lips lifted in a smile that pretty much remained in place the entire time she, Cliff, Cynthia, Todd, Miles, and a few others ate lunch together.

Cliff’s boot nudged her running shoe.

When she reciprocated, his smile broadened into a grin even though he directed his attention at Todd.

“We’d better go,” he told the guard. “I can hear the other guys’ stomachs growling, and they’re starting to get cranky.”

Todd shoved the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth, then kissed Cynthia and rose.

After tossing the table a goodbye, the two men bused their trays and left.

“I’m going to head back to my office,” Emma told Cynthia.

“Okay.” Smiling, her friend tapped her phone to wake it up and opened an e-book. “You want to come over tonight? Todd and I are going to binge-watch Game of Thrones for the dozenth time.”

Emma laughed. “No, thanks. It’s been a long week, so I’m just going to curl up with a good book.” After turning in her tray, she headed down the hallway and opted to duck into the restroom to check her hair and wash her hands.

Sadie exited one of the stalls as Emma entered. “Hi, darlin’.”

“Hi, Sadie.”

The elderly woman crossed to the row of motion-activated sinks and washed her hands. Today she wore a casual dress with a long skirt that ended just above thick-soled sneakers. Emma smiled, pleased to see her moving with more confidence now. She was still reed thin but didn’t seem as heartbreakingly frail as she headed for the hand dryer. Those training sessions must be paying off.

Turning back to the mirror, Emma patted her hair.

Sadie shook her head and gave her a wry smile as the dryer shut off. “What I wouldn’t give to have hair like yours.”

Emma grinned, imagining her with a big snow-white Afro.

“My hair’s so thin now I barely have enough to pull back into a bun,” she grumbled good-naturedly.

“You have beautiful hair,” Emma protested.

The woman harrumphed. “So how’s my hero today? I missed lunch because my torture session ran late.” Torture session being her term for her physical therapy/weight training session.

Emma glanced at the stalls behind them.

“Don’t worry. They’re empty.”

She smiled. “He’s good. He seemed to be in high spirits.”

Sadie winked. “Because you were there.” Sadie had been the one to arrange things so Emma could sit beside Cliff that first time. The sweet woman had baked cookies she knew would lure more people to the table, then plunked herself down next to Emma. And as soon as Cliff had entered the cafeteria, she’d abandoned her spot for him.

Unexpectedly, sadness filled Emma because she knew the other woman’s matchmaking efforts would never garner the results she wished. “Sadie…”

Her smile softening, Sadie patted Emma’s cheek. “I know. I’m sorry, sweetie. I can’t help it. It’s just that I see in you two what Henry and I had for so long.” She headed for the door but paused before opening it and turned back. “I had a lot of years with him, you know.” She shook her head. “His battle with cancer was a long one. A hard one. Every time we thought that damn disease was gone, it came back.” Her expression turned earnest. “But I’m telling you, Emma, every minute I had with my Henry made getting through the bad times worth it. That kind of love doesn’t seem to come around much nowadays.” She smiled. “So I’m going to keep hoping you and Cliff will find a way.” She opened the door. “You have yourself a nice weekend.”

“You, too,” Emma belatedly called after her as she left.

Emma couldn’t stop thinking about Sadie’s words as she drove home at dusk. Nor could she stop thinking about Cliff.

She rolled her eyes at herself. As if that was anything new. She always thought about Cliff. Tragic though it might seem, Sadie was right. The connection Emma and Cliff shared was real, not imagined. What she felt for him wasn’t simple infatuation. It wasn’t lust, easily assuaged. It wasn’t a desperate attempt to escape boredom or alleviate loneliness. It wasn’t any of the things she had experienced with the few boyfriends and even fewer lovers she’d had in the past.

It was so much more than that. If she was honest with herself, what she felt for Cliff made everything that came before him feel like a teenager’s fleeting crushes.

Reducing her speed, she waited for a logging truck driving in the opposite direction to pass, then turned onto the long dirt road that led to her small country home.

She was falling in love with him.

Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. No. She already had fallen in love with him. She’d never felt like this before… like she would walk through fire just to have one more minute with him. She’d never met a man who so enthralled her that she would rather have a platonic friendship with him than take another man as a lover.

Which was not to say she wasn’t physically attracted to Cliff, because… damn, that man was hot. Just the press of his muscled thigh against hers under the table left her all hot and tingly.

Pulling into her driveway, she cut the lights and turned off the engine. Though the house had an attached two-car garage, her car wouldn’t fit in it. Ever since she had proudly withdrawn a sizable chunk of her savings account to put a down payment on the house, she’d been using the garage as a workshop for all her fixer-upper projects. Tools and materials occupied half of it while the other half accommodated the old economy car her parents had taught her to drive in and given her when she’d started college. Emma had thought it might be smart to keep it on hand as a backup in case the newer one ever gave her trouble.

A sense of satisfaction filled her as she crossed the grass.

The place hadn’t been much to look at when she’d decided to make the leap and purchase it, but it’d had what her dad called good bones. Her parents had always instilled in her the importance of owning property. She glanced around. Now this—and several acres surrounding it—was hers.

She smiled wryly. As long as she kept up the mortgage payments.

Fortunately, the network paid her well enough that she was able to make two mortgage payments a month and was already a couple of years ahead on her payments now. The network also offered employees no-interest home loans for the duration of their work tenure.

Thanks to people like Sadie, the network was seriously loaded and went above and beyond anything she’d seen any other company do to keep its employees happy.

No wonder Sadie and other elderly employees were loath to retire. Free meals—breakfast through dinner if one so desired—prepared by talented chefs. Free healthcare with on-site clinics that required no appointments. Free childcare for employees with little ones. Mr. Reordon even offered grants to college-bound children of employees.

And from what she understood, other branches of the network did the same.

A cool breeze set plants to dancing and swaying as she headed up the pretty stone walkway that led to the porch. She had laid those stones herself. The lawn that had been patchy at best the year she bought the place was now thick and green. She smiled. The shrubs she’d planted along the front of the house on either side of the path were coming along nicely. Hanging baskets overflowed with flowers on the front porch. She wrinkled her nose when her gaze went to the wood siding.

The rest of the exterior, unfortunately, looked pretty shabby. Paint that used to be… peach maybe?… flaked off in sizable strips. Emma had already bought some cheerful yellow to replace it along with bright white for the trim, but that was going to be an exhausting job. She’d have to sand off the flakes and—

Nope. She didn’t want to think about that tonight.

Unlocking the front door, she entered and flipped on the lights.

Much better.

She’d stripped the shudder-worthy wallpaper off every wall—and it had been on every wall—and painted each room with colors that appealed to her. Though the wood floor that ran throughout the house was scuffed and faded, she still loved it. She’d had the warped Formica countertop in the kitchen replaced with gleaming granite. Once she repainted the cabinets and added modern hardware, the kitchen would look fantastic.

Her gaze went to the treadmill parked in the space meant for dining.

When she’d bought the house, she had intended to purchase a nice table and chairs to fill the pretty nook, imagining inviting some special guy over for a candlelit dinner.

Then she’d met Cliff and…

Well. Not much point in buying a table she wouldn’t use. She couldn’t imagine any other man sitting in that nook with her and didn’t really want to. So she’d opted for a treadmill and was content to eat her dinner at the coffee table every night while she watched the news.

She sighed. As much as she loved the place, tonight it seemed too quiet.

Fortunately, her nearest neighbors were far enough away that she could crank up some tunes without disturbing them. Hendrix helped her shake off the restive feelings that tried to creep in while she showered, donned a tank top and some soft pajama pants, then whipped up a quick pasta dish.

Once she ate and did the dishes though, the restlessness returned.

Emma settled on her comfy sofa and tried to dive into a new e-book. But it failed to snare her interest. She tried another one. And another with the same results.

What was wrong with her tonight?

Giving up on reading, she turned the television on and surfed Netflix until she found a horror flick that looked promising.

Half an hour later, just as the action in the movie was picking up, a faint thump outside reached her ears.

Frowning, she muted the volume and glanced toward the front of the house. Blinds shielded the windows, beyond which a lone bulb lit the porch and part of the yard.

No shadow passed by them. Nor did any more thuds break the silence.

Had she imagined it?

When it didn’t recur, she chalked it up to the movie making her jumpy. It was pretty creepy.

Or perhaps she’d simply heard some nocturnal creature pouncing on unsuspecting prey. Nature surrounded her on all sides, and she’d seen a wide variety of animals pass by on their hunt for food. Maybe something had decided to snag itself one of the little field mice she’d had such a hard time keeping out when she’d first bought the place.

With a mental shrug, she turned the movie back on.

A loud knock shook her door.

Emma damn near jumped off the sofa. Her neck popped as she jerked her head around to stare at the door with wide eyes. Her heart began to slam against her ribs as fear trickled through her.

Who the hell would be knocking on her door this late at night?

Who the hell would be knocking on her door at any time of day or night?

No one she knew would do so without calling first. And deliverymen and women didn’t drop off packages at freaking midnight.

As quickly and quietly as a mouse, she darted into her bedroom and grabbed the 9mm her father had bought her and trained her to use. Flicking off the safety, she returned to the living room and swung by the coffee table to tuck her phone in her pajama pants pocket in case she needed to call 911. Only then did she cautiously approach the door.

Another knock thundered through the house.

Adrenaline spiking, she peered through the door’s peephole.

Shock rippled through her. “Oh shit,” she whispered. Setting the gun on the coatrack bench beside her, she hastily unlocked the dead bolt, then the knob, and flung open the door.

Cliff stood before her, his big body blocking her view of the yard.

Emma gaped up at him.

He wore the standard blacks of network guards covered with a long black coat similar to that of an Immortal Guardian. His face, neck, and hands were streaked with blood. His clothing glistened with wet patches. And his eyes shone bright amber.

She had never seen them so bright and knew it meant that whatever emotion roiled inside him was intense.

Panic consumed her. “Cliff,” she breathed. Stepping onto the porch, she swiftly glanced around, terrified she might see soldiers in black approaching with weapons raised.

When none materialized, she grabbed his wrist and yanked him inside.

Her hands shook as she closed and bolted the door, her fingers leaving little streaks of blood on the white surface.

Spinning around, she stared up at him. “What happened? Are you hurt?” Her gaze swept over him, noting every wet patch on his clothing, every ruby-red splotch on his skin. Was that his blood or someone else’s? “How did you get here? Are you hurt?” Closing the distance between them, she began to run her hands over his chest in search of wounds.

Cliff grabbed her wrists to halt her frantic movements. His glowing eyes dropped to the points at which they touched. He drew his thumbs over her skin as if to confirm she was real. Then he met her gaze. “I need your shower,” he said, voice gruff.

Heart pounding, she nodded. As soon as he released her, she pointed. “It’s through there.”

Without another word, he strode toward it. His heavy boots thudded loudly in the quiet as he entered the short hallway, then turned in to the bathroom. The door closed. Water began to pound tile.

Emma didn’t move.

Cliff was here. In her home. What the hell had happened?

Her thoughts raced around and around in her head, scrambling for purchase.

Had he escaped? How the hell could he have escaped? There was so much security at the network! So many guards!

But hadn’t Sebastien Newcombe successfully plowed his way through security two or three years ago?

Yes. And rumor claimed Mr. Reordon still had it in for him. Some said Reordon had even gone so far as to call for Bastien’s execution after that.

Oh crap. Reordon.

The head of the East Coast division of the network would already be assembling special-ops teams to search for Cliff. He might even have Immortal Guardians out looking for him. And while she knew Bastien wouldn’t harm his vampire friend, the others would. They might even kill Cliff on sight.

“Oh shit,” she whispered again. When she glanced down at her crimson-stained hands, a little shudder shook her. Racing over to the kitchen sink, she washed off the blood. She didn’t take time to dry her hands afterward. She just wiped them on her pants as she ran to her bedroom, her bare feet barely making a sound.

Flipping on the lights, she dove for her closet and yanked out an oversized duffel bag. Tipping it upside down, she shook it hard. Skeins of yarn, long bamboo needles, and round plastic looms tumbled out, leftover supplies from when Cynthia had gone on a crafting kick and tried to teach Emma how to knit.

Emma shoved it all aside and tossed the bag on the bed.

She was darting back and forth from her dresser to the bed, stuffing clothing into the bag, when the bathroom door opened. Emma glanced toward the hallway.

Cliff stepped out, his big body bare save for a white towel wrapped around his hips. Broad shoulders, a muscled chest, and washboard abs gleamed with a hint of moisture left behind from his shower. Little beads of water clung to the ends of some of his dreadlocks.

Though she’d love to take the time to admire every delectable inch of him, Emma only looked long enough to determine he bore no injuries before she went back to packing.

“I have a shirt that will fit you.” Sometimes she slept in large men’s T-shirts. “But you’ll have to wear the pants you came in.”

He said nothing for a long moment. “Okay.”

Delving back into her closet, she drew out the heavy lockbox. “Keys, keys, keys,” she whispered absently as she dropped it beside the bag on the bed. Where the hell had she put them?

Right. The kitchen.

Hurrying past Cliff and into the kitchen, she yanked open the junk drawer and retrieved the little ring of keys. She swung by the coatrack bench to retrieve the 9mm. Best to keep it handy since she had no idea when network soldiers might arrive and she was not going to let them shoot him. Then Emma headed back to the bedroom.

Cliff still stood in the hallway outside the bathroom. Her bare arm brushed his as she swept past him. But she was too rattled to relish the brief skin-on-skin contact.

“How long do you think we have?” she asked, setting the gun on the bed.

“A couple of hours?” he said, the words ending on an up note as if he wasn’t certain.

A couple of hours. “That’s more than I would’ve thought.” Frowning, she glanced over at him as she unlocked and opened the small safe. “Why aren’t you putting your pants back on?” Inside lay a stack of important documents; two exterior hard drives with backups of all her don’t-want-to-lose computer files, family photos, and videos; some keepsakes; and an envelope full of cash.

She had thought her parents paranoid for recommending she keep the last on hand but was glad now she had done it to pacify them.

“Emma,” he said softly.

“What?” she responded absently. Where could they go? Where could they go that would make it harder for the network to find them?

It would have to be someplace remote. Out of the country. With Cliff’s speed, he could get them across borders without needing passports. So that was a plus because she doubted he had one, and she didn’t want to use hers in case Reordon could track it.

Maybe they could lose themselves in South America.

“What are you doing?”

She looked at him. “Packing.” The amber glow in his eyes had diminished a bit. And now that he’d washed off the blood, he looked healthy and perfect and so damned lovable. “Right. Sorry.” Yanking open another dresser drawer, she drew out a green shirt in a men’s size large and tossed it to him. “Here.”

He caught it easily but made no move to don it.

“I don’t think we should risk taking the time to wash your pants.” She tucked the cash and hard drives into the bag, then added the laptop from her corner desk.

“What exactly do you think has happened?” he asked, his voice cautious and quiet.

Something in it made her pause. Turning, she stared at him. “You escaped,” she said. “And I don’t think it’s going to take the network two hours to send teams out looking for you, Cliff, so we need to hurry. Come on. Get dressed.”

Clothing. Money. Laptop. Hard drives. Phone.

Wait.Should she take her phone? Could the network track her that way?

Maybe leave the phone.

What else, what else, what else?

The green shirt clutched in one fist, Cliff moved to stand before her, so close she could smell the soap he’d used when he showered and feel the heat from his body.

Cliff was six feet tall or thereabouts. Emma was five-five, so she had to tilt her head back to look up at him.

“And now you’re packing?”

“Yes.”

“To come away with me?”

“Yes.”

His eyes flashed bright amber. “You would do that? You would leave everything behind and just… run away with me?”

“Of course I would.” Reaching up, she cupped his strong jaw in one hand and stroked the stubble it bore. How often had she dreamed of touching him like this? “I don’t know how long we’ll be able to elude them, but—”

He covered her hand with one of his and shifted it so he could press a kiss to her palm.

The tender gesture made her fall silent, her heart aching. How she loved him. Sadie was right. Whatever ugliness lay ahead was worth every minute she could spend with him.

“The network won’t be hunting me,” he told her, his deep voice gentle.

If network special-ops teams weren’t hunting him, that could only mean one thing.

A lump rose in her throat. Blinking back tears, she withdrew her hand, then slid her arms around his waist. The curly hair on his chest tickled her nose as she pressed her face to it and squeezed him tight… as though by doing so she could shield him and protect him. “The Immortal Guardians are hunting you?” she forced out, the words thick.

With a two-hour head start, she had held at least some hope of escaping. Seth might be able to sense the location of other immortals, but he couldn’t do the same with vampires. Once she and Cliff got in her car—the old one, not the one she drove to work that the network had LoJacked—long miles would eliminate any path Cliff’s scent might leave for them. Avoiding main streets with traffic cams would further increase their chances of throwing them off. And the farther they drove, the more their chances of getting away would increase.

But if immortals were already tracking him…

Cliff’s strong arms closed around her. He rested his cheek on her hair and cuddled her close.

Tears spilled over her lashes and coursed down her cheeks. This was all she’d wanted. To have Cliff in her arms. To have the freedom to love and be loved by him.

But Immortal Guardians could arrive at any moment and—

Wait. What the hell was she doing? Giving up?

Though it killed her to do it, she gently backed out of his embrace. “Hurry and get dressed.” She swiped the tears from her cheeks. “If we leave now, there’s still a chance we can—”

“Emma.” Cliff’s voice was oddly calm as he clasped her hands in his.

“What?”

“No one is hunting me.”

She stared up at him, uncomprehending. “They don’t know you’ve escaped?” She shook her head. “How is that possible?” Now that he ate lunch in the cafeteria, everyone knew what he looked like. So it wasn’t as if he could just knock out a guard, put on his clothes, and slip out without anyone recognizing him.

He squeezed her hands. “I didn’t escape.”

She blinked. “I don’t understand. How else could you be here?”

He smiled, the glow in his eyes dimming to brown. “Bastien has been taking me hunting.”

“What?”

“He’s been taking me out hunting a few nights a week.”

Her chaotic thoughts struggled to catch up. “Hunting what?”

His teeth flashed in a grin. “Hunting vampires.” But his grin faltered and fell away as uncertainty rose in his handsome features. “The… voices have gotten louder. It’s been harder for me to ignore the violent impulses they inspire.” And how she loved him for telling her that, for being honest about his condition. “Bastien hoped that giving me an outlet for the aggression would help, so he’s been taking me with him on his nightly hunts.”

“Has it helped?” Was that why he’d seemed more relaxed lately?

Some of the tension left his form. “Yes. It definitely helps.”

Good. She squeezed his hands. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He shifted his weight and—releasing her—took a step backward. “I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it.” He offered another helpless shrug. “It’s a hard thing to admit—that killing makes me feel better.”

Of course it was. Cliff was a good man. “But you’re doing the same thing Immortal Guardians do. You’re killing men who murder innocents. Men who torture their victims before they drain them.”

He shook his head. “I could’ve been one of those men, Emma.”

“But you aren’t. Because you sought help. Because you’re fighting the madness instead of embracing it. Are the vampires you and Bastien kill fighting it? Do they want help?”

He sighed. “No.”

She shook her head. “I’m not going to fault you for executing serial killers, Cliff. I don’t think less of you, if that worries you.”

He relaxed even more.

“Where’s Bastien?” she asked. “Is he waiting outside?” Bastien had never accompanied Cliff to the cafeteria, so she had assumed he didn’t know she and Cliff had feelings for each other.

He smiled. “No. He started letting me roam around unsupervised for a couple of hours each night. He thought I would have an easier time chatting up other vampires and surveilling them if I wasn’t accompanied by an Immortal Guardian.”

Worry rose. “You’re surveilling other vampires? By yourself?” That sounded dangerous.

He nodded. “Some of the other Immortal Guardians don’t like it, but they need information and Seth gave us the okay, so Bastien doesn’t care.”

It still sounded too dangerous for her liking. “Does Bastien know…?” Does he know about us? she wanted to ask but was hesitant to say it because it sounded so intimate and their relationship had been strictly limited to friendship thus far.

“Does he know about us?” he asked, apparently lacking her hesitation.

“Yes.”

“No.” His brow furrowed. “I wasn’t sure how he would react.”

Then Bastien must think Cliff was out spying. “So in addition to hunting with him, you’re mingling with other vampires? Vampires you don’t kill?”

“Yes.” His look turned watchful. “Are you worried they’ll sway me into joining them?”

“What? No. Of course not. I’m worried they might realize you’re a spy and hurt you.”

He laughed. “They can’t hurt me, Emma. Bastien trained me well. I’m as strong a fighter as he is.” The words were not spoken boastfully but matter-of-factly.

At last it all began to sink in. Cliff hadn’t escaped. Bastien had taken him hunting to quell the voices, then let Cliff do whatever he wanted to for a couple of hours a night.

Her heart began to pound.

And tonight he had chosen to spend those hours with her.

“Cliff,” she whispered.

His look turned watchful. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No.”

Closing the distance between them, he cupped her face in his big hands and stared down at her with a tender smile that sent warmth coursing through her. “I can’t believe you were going to run away with me,” he said softly, his face full of awe and love and so much more.

She swallowed hard. “I still would if you asked me to.”

Those eyes of his flashed bright amber a second before he dipped his head.

Her breath caught as he pressed his lips to hers in a tentative first kiss that was both sweet and sensual, as if he were waiting to see if she would pull away. But Emma had been fantasizing about this—about kissing him and touching him—ever since they’d started having lunch together in the cafeteria almost a year ago.

Cliff hummed his approval when she kissed him back and explored his soft lips with growing fervency. Dropping his hands to her hips, he drew her closer and increased the pressure.

Emma’s heart began to pound as desire heated her blood. Parting her lips, she invited him inside, then moaned at the first touch of his tongue. Every brush and stroke increased the fire building within her. Sliding her arms around him, she flattened her hands on the muscles of his broad back, his smooth skin warm beneath her fingers, the intimate feel of bare flesh against bare flesh merely heightening her need.

A deep growl of approval rumbled up from his chest as he urged her tighter against him, breasts to chest. Abs to muscled abs. Hips to hips, letting her feel how hard he was beneath the towel.

Excitement skittered through her. He felt so good. And damn, he could kiss. She didn’t think she’d ever been so turned on by the press of lips or the stroke of a tongue. But Cliff set her on fire.

She’d wanted him for so long.

The muscles of his back flexed beneath her fingers as she caressed them.

And now, it would seem, she could have him.