by Cynthia Eden
He ignored the crowd around him. The dancing. The laughter. It held no interest for him. The people in the bar, with their tight clothing and desperate eyes, didn’t affect him.
But she did.
The moment that she stepped inside the dim bar, he felt her. In every inch of his body, he felt her.
And he hungered.
She wore a short black skirt that fell to mid-thigh. Her glorious legs immediately captured his attention. They were long and slender. Delicately muscled.
Her matching top dipped daringly low, revealing more than a hint of her cleavage. Her firm breasts pressed enticingly against her shirt’s front, and he realized that he could see her nipples.
Every muscle in his body tightened. Strained. Hungered.
He was aware that others noticed her, too. Several men turned to watch her as she slowly made her way through the crowded bar. One fool even reached out and placed his hand upon her shoulder.
William studied the man carefully, memorizing his features. The fellow would pay for that careless touch.
Savannah smiled at the man, and William saw her murmur softly to him. The hand fell away from her body, and she once again began walking toward him.
William rose and went to meet her. He grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him.
“What do you think you are doing?” His voice was a low growl.
She lifted one delicate auburn brow. “Meeting you?”
His eyes narrowed. “Why are you dressed like that?”
“We’re at a bar,” she reminded him, a small smile playing around the corners of her mouth. “I wanted to fit in.”
She wouldn’t fit in. A woman like her would always stand out from the crowd. “Well, you’re not fitting in. You’re attracting more attention than we want.” He hated the way the other men stared at her. He hated their lust-filled gazes.
And he hated even more that his own stare was filled with the same crazed need.
He steered her toward his waiting booth. At least the shadows would protect her from some of the prying eyes. Coming to Jake’s had obviously been a mistake.
When she sat down, he followed her, moving his body close to hers.
Savannah reached into her bag and pulled out a brown package. “Here.”
William frowned. “What is this?”
“Henry’s diary.”
His eyes widened in surprise.
She smiled. “I figured you should have it back.”
He carefully unwrapped the precious gift. He peeled the paper away slowly and stared in wonder at the leather volume. His fingers delicately caressed the soft cover. He traced his family’s crest and could have sworn that he actually felt heat, felt life, coming from the book. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She frowned and looked around the bar. A band screamed lyrics from a lifted stage and a mass of bodies danced vigorously on the small dance floor. “Do you come here often?”
He almost smiled at her question. Almost, and then he remembered his purpose in bringing her to Jake’s. Savannah had a lesson that she needed to learn. He carefully rewrapped the book and tucked it inside his coat pocket. He would explore that treasure later.
“I come here when I have a . . . need.”
Her brow furrowed. “A need? I don’t understand.”
No, of course she didn’t. But she would.
He leaned close to her, letting his breath fan against the delicate skin of her neck. The scent of lavender rose to tease his nostrils.
“Savannah,” he breathed against her and had the pleasure of watching her shiver. “Look at those people. What do you see?”
She wet her lips and his gaze avidly followed that small, sensual movement. “I see . . .” He lifted his hand and rubbed it against her thigh. She jumped. “Ah . . . I see people dancing. Laughing. Having a good time.”
“Really?” he purred. “That’s not what I see.” He leaned forward and lightly licked her neck. She gasped.
He loved the taste of her. So rich. So sweet. He wondered if her blood would taste the same.
And he knew, with sudden certainty, that he would have to find out. He wouldn’t be able to let her go. Not without first having a taste. A taste of her.
“Wh-what do you see?” she asked softly, arching her neck.
He could read her need so easily. She wanted him to bite her. To sink his teeth into her delicate skin.
She still wanted the kiss.
He had to force her to change her mind.
Before he gave in to her need.
His need.
“I see food.” His voice took on a harsh, grated edge. “I see blood.”
She tried to jerk away from him. Effortlessly, he held her in place. “Look at them, Savannah. Look at them. Look at how fragile they are. How delicate. It’s so easy to break them. So easy to kill them.”
She lifted her chin and looked at him. Her eyes glistened with a faint sheen of tears. “You’re trying to scare me.” She shook her head once, almost sadly. “It’s not going to work. You’re not going to make me change my mind.”
“We’ll see,” he growled and pulled her from the booth. She followed docilely, allowing him to lead her onto the crowded dance floor.
Bodies brushed against him as he passed. Scents flooded his nostrils. Cheap perfume. Booze. Sex.
He wondered if Savannah noticed the smells. He doubted it. His sense of smell was ten times stronger than a mortal’s. As was his vision.
He stopped in the middle of the dance floor. Savannah stumbled into him.
“What—”
He paid her no attention. His eyes were locked on the man who’d touched her only moments before.
Like Savannah, he was young, probably in his late twenties. He had sandy hair and blue eyes. He had a long, lanky build, and a tattoo of a black snake circled his upper arm.
The guy was currently dancing with a scantily clad blonde. His hands were locked on her hips, and hers were tunneling through his hair.
William smiled. He would be perfect. And so would she.
“What are you doing?” Savannah asked, fear heavy in her voice. She tugged on his arm. “Let’s go back to the booth.”
“Not just yet,” he murmured. Then he waited.
The guy looked up, seeming to sense William. Their gazes locked. William’s eyes flared red. “Come with me,” he commanded.
The man nodded, his face slack. He pulled away from the blonde and took a step toward William.
“Slade? What are you doin’?” The blonde grabbed his arm. “We ain’t through dancin’ yet!” She turned and noticed William. Her gaze flashed with sudden interest and she smiled flirtatiously. “Well, hi there, honey. You a friend of Slade’s?”
“Not exactly,” William murmured, turning the full force of his burning gaze upon her. “Why don’t you come outside with us?”
She blinked once. Her features softened, her lips parted. “Okay.”
“Stop it!” Savannah whispered. He could feel the tension humming through her body. “Stop playing with them.”
He looked at her, letting her see the blood lust that swirled in the depths of his eyes. He hadn’t fed that day, and the hunger was riding him hard. “I’m not playing.”
He headed for the back door. Slade and his girl eagerly followed. He glanced over his shoulder. Savannah stood frozen on the dance floor, an expression of horror covering her lovely face.
Good. She should be horrified. Her horror would send her running back home. Away from him.
The thought didn’t please him as much as it should have.
The crowd parted easily before him. In moments, he could see the back door, its metal surface gleaming dully in the poor florescent light. With one well-placed ki
ck, he forced the door open, its hinges screeching in protest. He scanned the back alley. A stray black cat screeched and jumped behind a Dumpster.
He smiled, turned to face his victims, and motioned to Slade. “Come here.”
Slade stumbled toward him, almost tripping in his haste.
“Don’t do this,” Savannah beseeched, walking slowly toward him. “Please, don’t do this.”
He was surprised that she’d followed him outside. He would have thought that she’d run from the bar. From him.
Apparently, it was going to take more to frighten her away.
He stared down at Slade, and the man eagerly tilted his head to the side, arching his neck. William felt his incisors burn and lengthen. He looked at Savannah, and he smiled, showing his razor sharp fangs.
“Don’t worry, Savannah. It won’t hurt him . . . much.”
He lowered his head toward Slade’s vulnerable throat.
“No!” Savannah screamed, shoving against his back. “Let him go!”
William snarled and tightened his grasp on Slade. He wasn’t about to let his prey get away.
“Don’t!” Savannah’s eyes were wide and luminous. Her nails dug into his back. “Just let him go.” She glanced quickly over at Slade’s frozen companion. “Let them both go.”
He shook his head. “I can’t do that.”
“Why?”
He turned his head and let her see his burning stare. Let her see the beast that was within him. “Because I’m hungry . . .”
Her lips trembled and her face became chalk-white. William expected her to run from the alley at any moment.
She took a deep breath. “I can’t let you hurt him.”
He arched a dark brow. “I have to feed.” He smiled. “I need the blood.”
She pushed Slade back and stepped protectively between his body and William’s. Her gaze met his.
“Then take mine.”
Chapter Three
My brother shares my secret, my torment. He will walk with me in the shadows, past the angels and past the devils. He will walk with me through eternity.
—Entry from the diary of Henry de Montfort,
October 31, 1068
LUST FLARED THROUGH him at her bold offer. It was what he’d wanted, what he’d craved, since the first moment that he’d seen her.
To taste her. To drink from her.
It would be ecstasy to hold her body, to feel her breasts pressed against his chest. His body clenched at the thought.
It would be heaven. Or, at least, as close to heaven as he would ever get.
“Take my blood,” her soft voice entreated, tempted.
The beast within him raged. He felt his control slipping.
He’d intended to only drink lightly from Slade, taking just enough blood to get through until the next full moon. He’d also wanted to frighten the man, to punish him for daring to touch Savannah.
And, he’d wanted to frighten Savannah, to force her to realize the reality of his existence. To force her to give up her crazed notion of becoming a vampire. Becoming like him.
But it seemed that his plan wasn’t working. She wasn’t acting as he’d anticipated. And his hunger was growing out of control.
“Leave,” he growled, and Slade and his blonde companion fled down the alleyway. They wouldn’t remember their encounter with him. He’d planted a strong compulsion in their minds.
Now, Savannah was a different story. His compulsion didn’t work on her. She would remember their encounter tonight. She would remember every detail.
As the sound of fleeing footsteps echoed in the distance, they stared into each other’s eyes.
The moonlight spilled over Savannah’s features and wrapped her in a gentle glow. She looked almost otherworldly in the pale light. Like an angel that had fallen down to earth.
His gaze drifted over the garbage-filled alley. Or to hell.
“Are you going to do it?” she asked, her hand lifting to touch her throat.
He followed her movement, his keen stare noting the pulse that beat frantically at the base of her neck. He wanted to put his lips against that soft point. To press his tongue against her.
“I want you to do it,” she whispered.
His control shattered. He grabbed her, pushing her against the rough brick wall. “Be careful what you ask for, sweet Savannah, because you just might get it.”
And he did what he’d been hungering to do all night. He put his mouth on her, his lips claiming hers in a kiss of hunger, of need.
Her mouth was hot, tight, wet against his. Her tongue met his eagerly, and her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders. She pulled him close against the heat of her body.
She was burning with heat, with life, and he had been cold, so cold, for such a long time.
His hand fisted in her hair, the soft strands easily sifting between his fingers. He tilted her head back, and she opened that delicious mouth of hers wider, letting him slide his tongue deep inside.
She tasted as he’d known she would. Sweet, and just a little bit wild. He couldn’t get enough of her. He wanted more. More. All that she had to give.
His lower body was rock hard against her soft hips. He pushed gently, letting her feel his need. His hunger. He’d never wanted a woman this much. Never.
He didn’t hear the sounds of the cars as they passed by on the main street. He didn’t hear the laughter or the conversations from the bar. He forgot all about the dirty alley. His only thought, his only focus, was her.
He pulled his mouth slowly from hers, kissing her gently now, using his tongue to flick against her lips.
She moaned softly, and the yearning sound tore through him.
His lips moved slowly down her chin, then down farther, sliding around the curve of her neck. He licked her, tasting the salt on her skin. He could feel her pulse, could feel the vibration against his lips. He could smell her, the scent of lavender wrapping tightly around him. He sucked gently on her throat.
“Do it,” she whispered, her voice a husky purr of seduction. And he couldn’t resist any longer. His teeth sank deep. She gasped, her body shaking in his arms.
With one hand, he held her head back, cradling her. With the other, he pulled her hips tightly against his own. His hips thrust against her. His lips drank from her.
Her blood was the sweetest he’d ever tasted. So pure. So good. He didn’t know if he could ever get enough of that taste. He drank, taking deeply of her essence, loving the feel of her in his arms. Loving her taste.
She shuddered, her lashes slowly lowering. Her body began to slip, to sag slightly against him. He pulled back at once, his tongue licking away the drops of blood that trickled down her throat.
Need still burned through him. He wanted to strip away her clothes, to have her beautiful body bare before him. He wanted to sink himself into her, deep into her, until he could not tell where he ended and she began.
His body ached for her.
“Did you . . .” She paused and wet her lips. “. . . get what you wanted?” Her voice was thick, husky.
He stared down at her. “No, but I will . . . soon.”
She frowned, and her body swayed against his. “William? I—” Her head fell back, and she slumped against him. He caught her easily in his arms, lifting her high up against his chest.
He cursed softly. He’d taken too much blood from her. She was a small woman, delicate. He should have used more care.
In truth, he never should have touched her. He’d given in to his need for Savannah, and now that need was raging inside of him. If he still had any conscience, he would let her go. He would send her far, far away from the monster that he’d become.
But his conscience had died a long time ago. It had died in a blood soaked
field in France. It had died the moment he killed his brother.
His hands tightened around Savannah’s still form.
She was the first thing that he’d wanted, that he’d needed, in over one thousand years.
And he didn’t want to let her go.
SAVANNAH AWOKE with a start, her brother’s dying scream echoing in her mind.
Her breath panted out, hard and fast, and her heart pounded furiously against her breast.
“It’s all right,” a man’s voice whispered from the darkness beside the bed. “You’re safe.”
Savannah froze. She knew that voice. “William?” She strained to see him in the shadows.
He stepped forward, and the moonlight from the open window spilled across his rough features.
She looked blankly around the unfamiliar room. “Where are we?” She shook her head, struggling to remember how she’d gotten to this place and into this bed.
“My home.” His unnerving stare was locked upon her.
Savannah pushed back the bedcovers and hurriedly stood. Her body swayed. At once, William reached to steady her.
His hands wrapped around her arms. “Careful. Don’t move too quickly.”
Her body heated at his touch, and she looked away from him, glancing around the room. Trying to find something else, anything else, to focus upon.
Moonlight spilled through the windows and lit the room. She saw that the furniture was antique, heavy cherry wood. A large four poster bed was the center piece of the room. A silken white canopy clung to the top of the bed. A vanity table and mirror were located near the far wall. The mirror gleamed brightly. A silver brush and matching comb sat on the table’s surface. Both looked as if they had never been used.
“How did I get here?” she asked curiously. “The last thing I remember was being in the alley . . .” Her brow furrowed as she struggled to remember those last few moments.
He seemed to stiffen. “I brought you here, after—”
“You bit me,” she whispered, her hand rising to touch her throat. “I remember that you bit me! You took my blood.” She raced toward the vanity mirror. She sat down heavily upon the cushioned chair and strained to see her neck in the mirror. Where was it? There . . . two small marks, tiny circles, upon her throat.