The Vampire's Kiss

by Cynthia Eden

  She looked around, surprised to find herself alone. She’d thought for certain that Mark would be there. Or Sharon.

  She felt something wet and sticky touch her bare foot. She glanced down, frowning. Was that water? It seemed to be flowing straight out of the fire.

  How could water come from fire?

  She bent down, touching the liquid with one fingertip. She held up her hand, straining to see in the flickering fire light.

  Her fingertip was red—blood red.

  She gasped and jumped back, trying to escape from the cool touch of the blood. The pool seemed to follow her, moving like a snake on the floor.

  The sound of laughter, light and mocking, froze Savannah.

  “I’ve been waiting for you.” The words were soft, purring, lightly accented.

  Her gaze flew frantically around the room. “Who’s there?” She strained to see in the shadows.

  “Don’t you know?” He whispered. “Don’t you know who I am?”

  Her heart pounded. “No. No, I don’t know you.”

  “Of course you do, my dear.” He laughed again, softly. “You know me very well. Better than any lovers I’ve ever had. After all, you’ve shared a kill with me.”

  “What?” Her feet were becoming soaked in the blood.

  “You were here with me. I could feel you. You were here while I fed.” His voice drifted from the shadows, seeming to surround her.

  What was he talking about?

  Mark. Her memory returned in a blinding rush. Mark had died. He’d died here, in the cabin. She’d seen it. She’d—

  “That’s right,” he purred. “Your dear sweet brother. I’m afraid I had to drain him dry.”

  A cool touch drifted across the back of her arm. Savannah jerked forward, a scream rising in her throat. She turned quickly, hoping to see the face of the killer who stalked her.

  No one was there.

  His words continued to whisper from the darkness. “But you know what I did, don’t you, Savannah? You were there that night. I felt you. I felt your fear. Your anger.”

  Her hair was lifted gently. A cool breeze blew against the nape of her neck. Savannah trembled.

  “Your fear made me strong.” The voice was louder now, closer. “It made me hungry.”

  The flames of the fire raged, snapping out from the fireplace like greedy hands. Savannah felt the heat burn across her skin. Then, in a flash, the fire died.

  The room was plunged into darkness.

  Something brushed against her leg. Savannah bit her lip, choking back a scream. She knew it wasn’t real. The cabin. The voice. None of it was real. It was just another dream. Another nightmare.

  His hand grabbed hers, locking tightly around her wrist, crushing the skin and bones in a powerful grip.

  It just felt so damn real!

  “Tell me, Savannah.” His breath whispered across her face. “Did you enjoy it? Did you enjoy watching them die? Did you enjoy it as much as I did?”

  She tried to jerk away, but he held her fast. She kicked him, once, twice, but he just laughed at her. “Let me go!”

  “Never.” He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed the skin on the back of her hand. She could feel the edge of his teeth against her. The sharp edge of his teeth. His fangs.

  “Who are you?” She whispered.

  “Don’t you know?” He turned her hand over, and his teeth scraped against her palm.

  Savannah gasped at the sudden flash of pain. The skin split open in two long, narrow slits, and blood oozed onto her palm.

  It didn’t make any sense. Dreams weren’t supposed to hurt. Why did she feel the pain? Why? Why couldn’t she just wake up?

  She shook her head frantically. “This isn’t real. It’s just a dream.”

  His eyes began to glow. An eerie red glow. She couldn’t see his face. Or his body. Just his eyes.

  “Oh, it’s more than a dream. Much more.”

  It was hell. Being trapped with him, having him touch her, was pure hell for Savannah. Wake up, she ordered herself. Wake up!

  “You’re not going anywhere, my dear.” He licked the blood on her palm. She shuddered. “I have plans for you . . .”

  She had to wake up. She had to!

  The red glow of his eyes burned down on her.

  True terror burst in her heart. She couldn’t get away from him. She couldn’t wake up. She was trapped, alone—

  “That’s it, fear me. Give me that fear. It feels so good . . .”

  “Savannah!” William shouted her name. “Savannah!”

  A snarl escaped from her captor, and he shoved her away.

  Savannah slipped, falling down into the pool of blood. She still couldn’t see anything. She couldn’t see William. Or the killer. “William! William, where are you?”

  “He can’t help you,” a deep voice snarled from above her. “He’ll only destroy you.”

  “No!” She scrambled to her feet. “William! Where are you?”

  “Savannah! Don’t be afraid.” His warm voice drifted to her. “I won’t let him hurt you.” He sounded closer.

  She took a deep breath. She didn’t understand what was happening. How had William gotten into her dream?

  Fire burst once again from the smoking logs, sending light flashing into the room.

  William stood in the doorway, rage etched on his face. And, by the fire, another man stood, a man as tall as William and with midnight hair. His arm was thrown over his face, as if to protect him from the fire.

  The stranger turned toward William, placing his back before Savannah.

  William stiffened when he saw the man’s face.

  “So, we finally meet again.” A low laugh, vicious and cruel, slipped past his lips. “Hello, brother.”

  Savannah gasped. No, it couldn’t be—

  “NO!” SAVANNAH awoke, screaming. Her heart pounded furiously, the sound echoing like a drum in her ears.

  The cabin was gone. She was back in her hotel room.

  Had it all just been a dream? A horrible nightmare?

  She lifted her hand, trying to brush the hair back from her eyes.

  She became aware of the pain then. Of the throbbing ache. She turned on the light and stared down at her hand in disbelief. A dark black bruise circled the skin of her wrist.

  Savannah’s eyes widened. Slowly, she turned her hand over.

  Two thin scratches marred the skin of her palm.

  And, for just a second, she heard the echo of laughter in her mind. Low, vicious laughter.

  Chapter Six

  Every man has secrets. Dark, dangerous secrets.

  —Entry from the diary of Henry de Montfort,

  November 25, 1068

  THE MOMENT THE sun set, William’s eyes flashed open. He jumped from the bed in a movement so quick it was little more than a blur.

  Rage consumed him. How dare that bastard attack Savannah? How dare he? He would destroy him, once and for all.

  He cocked his head, listening intently for any sounds in the manor above him. His acute hearing picked up nothing.

  Where was Savannah? Why wasn’t she in the house?

  He sent his mind out, freeing his psychic power, as he searched for her. He could find no trace of her, no trace of the telltale warmth that usually characterized her presence.

  He sighed. She was gone. She’d made her choice.

  He walked slowly through the tunnel, up the winding staircase and into the house. He traveled through each room, checking carefully just in case he’d missed her. Just in case she was there.

  The house was empty.

  He stood in the great room, and with a wave of his hand, he sent the fire blazing. He stared into the flames, not really seeing them. Ins
tead, he saw her.

  Savannah. With her fiery mane of curls and beautiful eyes. Her passion. Her strength.

  He couldn’t blame her for leaving. His hands clenched. He understood, really. Why would she want to tie herself to a monster?

  He lifted his hand toward the flame. He could feel the warmth on his cold skin. It reminded him of Savannah. For a brief time, she’d brought warmth back into his cold existence. For too brief a time . . .

  He closed his eyes. And heard the sound of an approaching car in the distance. Was it her? Was she coming to him?

  His mind sought hers. He felt her instantly. Her warmth. The soothing touch of her spirit. The feel of her almost drove him to his knees.

  He took a step forward and then stopped. She would have to come to him. It must be her decision.

  So he waited, listening to the quiet purr of the car’s motor, to the crunch of gravel beneath the tires.

  Slowly, ever so slowly, the car neared the house. He could hear them, hear the driver, an older man with a New York accent, talking to Savannah. He heard her soft, quiet responses.

  The car stopped at his gate. His mind flashed, and the heavy iron doors swung open instantly. He felt the driver’s surprise, felt the man’s fear.

  William heard Savannah open her door and step out of the car. He heard her as she began to walk toward the house. He heard her as her heart began to pound, louder, harder. Then she was at the door.

  His muscles strained, but he didn’t move. She must come to him. She must! Even though he longed to go to her.

  Her hand knocked against the wooden door, her knuckles scraping lightly. The wind howled, sending the door crashing open. Savannah gasped, the sound traveling easily to him.

  So close. She was so close now. Barely twenty feet away from him. He could smell her. Lavender. He could almost taste her.

  She took a deep breath, the sound a mere whisper. And she stepped forward. Her tennis shoes squeaked softly on the wooden floor. One step. Another. Closer. Another step. So close. His entire focus was on her.

  She stood at the threshold of the great room. He turned slowly, hungry for the sight of her.

  Her eyes, bright and clear, met his. She didn’t say a word.

  She was here. He’d told what would happen if she was at the house. “If you’re still here, then you’ll be mine. Forever.” The words whispered through his mind.

  Savannah dropped a small duffel bag onto the floor. Then she rubbed her hands down the front of her jeans.

  William’s gaze followed her nervous movement.

  “I’ve chosen,” she said softly.

  The husky timbre of her voice sent desire shooting through him. He wanted to go to her, to take her into his arms and crush her against him. Instead, he waited, barely moving, desperately needing her to say the words that would bind them together.

  “You have to transform me, and you have to help me get justice for my brother and his wife.” She licked her lips and took a quick breath. “In return, I’ll be your companion, forever.”

  His companion. His body tightened. “Forever is a long time, Savannah. How do I know that you won’t change your mind?” That she wouldn’t leave him one day, leave him as his brother had left him centuries ago? Could he trust her? He hadn’t trusted another person since his transformation.

  Her chin lifted. “I give you my word. I’ll stay with you.”

  “As my mate?” he pressed, a muscle clenching along his jaw.

  She flushed. “Yes . . .”

  He walked toward her, taking his time, studying the emotions that flashed across her face. Anger. Fear. He stopped barely an inch away from her. His hands lifted, curling around her and pulling her against him. “A kiss,” he whispered, “to seal the bargain.”

  Her lips trembled, then parted. He lowered his head and locked his mouth upon hers.

  She was as sweet as he remembered. The taste of her was so pure, so rich. His tongue slid past her lips, sliding gently into the warmth of her mouth. She met him eagerly, leaning forward into his touch, his kiss.

  He swirled his tongue against hers and tasted her, lightly, softly, as if she were a fine wine. And, like a wine, he knew that he could all too easily get drunk from the taste of her.

  His arms wrapped around her, pulling her tightly against him. She felt so good. So soft and yielding.

  He slid his hands under the edge of her shirt. Her back was smooth, incredibly soft. His fingers caressed her spine, moving lightly up the edge of her back. She felt so delicate, so fragile. Yet she met his kiss with a passionate force that stunned him.

  His hand slipped around the edge of her shirt, moving to rest just below the curve of her breast. He wanted to cup her in his hand, to feel her nipple tighten against his fingers. He wanted to take her into his mouth. To suck her. To lick her.

  His fingers traced a light pattern on the top of her lacy bra. Her nipple tightened in response. He growled.

  Savannah wrenched herself away from him. She took a step back, breathing heavily.

  His jaw clenched. He could feel his teeth, burning sharply against his gums. The beast had been roused. “Backing out of our bargain already?” His voice was guttural.

  Savannah’s eyes were wide, deep pools of mystery. She swallowed once and shook her head. “Before we go any further, I have to know . . .”

  “What?” What did she need to know? Didn’t she already know all of his secrets? What more could she possibly want? Must he lay bare before her? Anger burned through him. He grabbed her arm and pulled her body back against his, forcing her to feel the lust that burned him. “Our bargain is set, sweet fairy. There is no going back now.”

  “I know,” she said, her voice low, almost sad. Her gaze met his. “I don’t want to go back.”

  He held onto his control, refusing to give the beast within his freedom. William took a deep, shuddering breath. He would have Savannah. Soon.

  He studied her carefully, searching her face. “What is it that you want to know?”

  She held her hand up, her palm facing him. Two thin red scratches ran the length of her hand. William stiffened at the sight.

  “What happened to me today? It wasn’t a dream.” Her hand clenched. “Dreams don’t hurt you.”

  Some dreams did. It was a lesson that William had learned long ago.

  “Tell me what happened,” Savannah demanded. “I need to know. I have to know.”

  And she had the right to know. He knew that she did. But he didn’t want to tell her. He didn’t want to see the anger, the hatred, that he knew would mark her beautiful face. He didn’t want to risk losing her.

  “Tell me, William! Tell me.” Her eyes seemed to flash at him.

  He had no choice. “It was more than a dream.”

  She watched him, her very silence urging him onward.

  He took a deep breath and stepped away from her. He walked toward the fire. “More than a dream, but less than reality.”

  “I don’t understand.” She sounded very calm. He’d expected her to rage, to scream. Perhaps that would come later.

  “The . . . creature that was in your dream—” He broke off, not certain how to explain. “He—he has certain powers.”

  “What kind of powers?”

  “He is a creature of the night. He can control the shadows, the mists—”

  “I wasn’t in the shadows.” Savannah snapped. “I was in my hotel room, in broad daylight.”

  William turned to face her. “There are shadows everywhere. They are in dark alleyways, deserted parks. Even in the minds of humans.” In fact, shadows were most often found in the mind. They lived, they grew, hiding in the darkness of the mind.

  Savannah ran a frustrated hand through her disheveled hair. “I don’t understand. Stop with
the stupid riddles and just tell me what happened.”

  “I am telling you.” His voice was as soft as hers was loud. “You have to open your mind; you have to listen to me.”

  She gritted her teeth. “Fine. He controls shadows. Shadows that are in my head.”

  “Everyone has shadows.” It was one of man’s greatest weaknesses. “Shadows of fear, of anger. Shadows that lie in the darkness of the human mind, waiting to grow. Waiting to spread.”

  She frowned. “I still don’t—”

  “It’s your fear. Your anger. It draws him. And it gives him strength.” It gave the creature strength, and it made Savannah weak. He would have to teach her to shield her mind, to protect herself.

  “Strength to enter my mind?”

  “Strength to enter your very soul.” He had to make her understand her peril. “As long as you have the fear, he can enter your mind. He can get to you. He can feel you.” He touched her injured hand. “He can make you feel him.”

  “He said that he’d felt me before.” She spoke softly, her gaze hooded. “That he knew I’d been there when he’d . . . when he’d—” She broke off abruptly, apparently unable to continue.

  But William knew what she was going to say, and he finished for her, murmuring softly, “When he killed your brother.”

  Her eyes welled with tears. “Yes,” she whispered. A tear slid down her cheek, but she wiped it away with a quick swipe of her hand. “He said he felt me when he killed Mark.” Horror was etched on her face.

  “Your mind is strong, Savannah. He’s drawn to it. To you.” But William would be damned if he’d let the bastard get his hands on Savannah. She was his. The bargain had been made.

  Her brow furrowed. “You know him, don’t you?”

  William tensed. It was the question that he’d feared. He thought about lying, about denying the truth. At least for just a little while longer. But, as he stared into her somber gaze, he could offer her only the truth. “Yes. Yes, I know him.”

  “Who is he?”

  He lowered his lashes, veiling his gaze. How would she react? Would his words drive her away? Would their bargain be broken so easily? He spoke softly, “He’s a killer. A murderer who has been feeding on the blood of the innocent for hundreds of years.”