"Ashley, Amanda - After Sundown" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ashley Amanda)

Ramsey stared at the cross tattooed on his right palm. "Damned," he murmured. "Forever damned."
Grigori lifted one brow in amusement. "You did not think yourself damned when you killed my kind." He grinned faintly. "Our kind. Why are you damned now?"
"Because of what I am!"
"Murder is murder, Ramsey, whether you are killing vampires or killing humans for their blood. It is all the same; only the reasons are different. You can be as good, or as bad, as you wish."
Ramsey snorted. "You don't understand."
"No, it is you who do not understand. But you will. If you live long enough. Now, look around and decide who will be your prey."
"How do I decide?"
Grigori shrugged. "Probe their minds. Find the one who is most susceptible to your power. Plant the suggestion in their mind that they are ready to go home."
"I can't do that."
"You can. Try."
Ramsey glanced around the room. A middle-aged man sat alone at the far end of the bar. There was an elderly couple in a front booth, a couple of young punks playing pool in the back. His gaze settled on a woman standing beside a cigarette machine. She was about twenty-five, dressed in a pair of jeans and a bulky red sweater. Her hair was brown, her eyes blue. He stared at her, wondering how to go about probing her mind, when, as if a door had suddenly opened, he was aware of her thoughts. She was recently divorced, lonely, searching for something to ease the pain.
He swore under his breath, exhilarated and frightened by this strange new power. How often in the past had he wished he could read another's mind? But to actually have that ability… could he actually impose his will on this strange woman?
Look at me. Ramsey sent the thought to her, felt a thrill of satisfaction when she turned in his direction. She regarded him a moment, then smiled uncertainly.
Come to me.
Slowly she began to walk toward him, her expression slightly puzzled.
"Good evening," Ramsey said.
"Hello." She had a sexy, breathy voice. "Have we met before?"
"No."
Ramsey gazed deep into her eyes. He had never had time for women, or for love. He had spent his whole life hunting vampires, moving from town to town, country to country. Like most hunters, he had never married. Families all too easily became victims, hostages, pawns in an endless war.
A curious sensation swept through him as he felt his mind connect with hers, felt her will bend to his. Felt her desire reach out to him. It was something he had never felt before, never known before. Women had respected him, trusted him, confided in him. They had never desired him. And even now, it wasn't him she wanted, but the creature he had become. An immortal creature clothed with the vampire's mystic allure.
"Come," he said. "I'll walk you to your car."
She nodded, and he took her arm. Ramsey glanced over his shoulder to make sure Grigori was with them.
Outside, some of Ramsey's confidence waned. The woman stood beside him, her expression blank.
He looked at Grigori. "What do I do now?"
"Follow me."
Grigori led them into the alley that ran between the bar and a vacant lot that was overgrown with weeds and littered with empty beer cans and bottles. He gestured at the woman, who stood unmoving, like a robot waiting for instruction. "She is in your power now. You can do whatever you wish."
"But how do I… you know."
"Think only of her blood. Listen. Can you not hear it flowing like sweet honey through her veins?"
Grigori took the woman in his arms, ran his fingertips ever so lightly over her cheek, down the length of her neck.
"Smell the blood," Grigori said, and he felt his own fangs lengthen as he bent over the woman. Her head fell back, exposing the tender skin of her throat. "You must always be gentle," he said, his voice changing, growing deeper, rougher as the hunger within him stirred to life. "Human flesh is so very fragile."
The woman made a small sound of pleasure as Grigori's mouth closed over her throat, his fangs piercing the skin. He took only a sip, and then he thrust the woman into Ramsey's arms. "She is yours. Take her."
Ramsey stared at the woman, at the single drop of crimson sparkling on her throat. "What about… how do you know her blood is… don't you worry about disease?"
"You would know if her blood was unclean."
Ramsey nodded. Feeling as awkward and self-conscious as a boy on his first date, he gathered the woman into his embrace. She didn't resist. Pliant as a rag doll, she allowed him to hold her. She smelled of soap and perfume and cheap brandy. And blood. It called to him like a Siren's song: loud, insistent. Irresistible. He felt an ache in his gums as his fangs lengthened.
With a low growl, he sank his fangs into the warm tender skin of her throat, felt the thick richness of her blood fill his mouth.
"Gently," Grigori admonished. "It can be a pleasant experience for her, as well, if you choose to make it so."
Ramsey drank, disgusted by what he was doing, yet compelled to take more and more, overcome with the warmth of it, the way it eased the pain that had clawed at him. He drank her memories, her strength, her dreams. The sound of her heartbeat echoed in his ears. How had he ever thought such an act repulsive? Her life filled him until he felt drunk with it And still he wanted more. Wanted it all.
"Enough, Ramsey. Enough!"
Dazed, drugged with blood and a sense of unlimited power, Ramsey lifted his head, his lips drawn back in a silent snarl. The woman was his. He would not share her.
"Enough," Grigori said again.
Ramsey looked down at the woman in his arms. Her heartbeat was faint, her face pale. She stared up at him through vacant eyes.
"What have I done?" he moaned. "What have I done?"
"Only what you had to do."
"Is she… will she die?"
"No."
Horror-stricken, Ramsey shoved the woman into Chiavari's arms and backed away. He dragged a hand over his mouth, grimaced when he saw the blood there. The thrill he had felt earlier was gone, replaced by a sense of horror and self-disgust. "I can't do this."
"You can, and you will. Abstaining will only make the pain worse. Waiting, trying to fight it, will only make it harder for you to control the Hunger. And when you are out of control, people will die."
"How have you stood it for so long?" Ramsey asked bitterly. "How have you stood the separateness, the aloneness?"
Grigori took a deep breath and loosed it in a long, slow sigh. "Being Vampyre is not for the weak. There are drawbacks, but they grow fewer as the years pass. And the advantages far outweigh them."
"Advantages!" Ramsey scoffed. "What advantages?"