by Cynthia Eden
“That you’d never been with a man. That it was your first time.” The words fell heavily into the quiet room.
She took a deep breath and pushed herself into a sitting position. His hands fell away from her shoulders. “You didn’t ask,” she muttered, feeling a flush stain her cheeks. So she’d never had sex before. Big deal. Why was he making such an issue over it?
“You should have told me,” he murmured, his gaze falling to rest on the gentle rise of her breasts. “Things would have been different. I could have made it better for you—”
It got better? Savannah didn’t know if she could survive a “better.”
“William, I didn’t want anything different. I just wanted you.” And that was the truth. She hadn’t cared about their bargain. She’d only thought of him. And of the need that he stirred within her.
His hand reached out and he began to caress her breast. “Why did you wait? Why didn’t you find some nice human and have sex long ago?”
Her nipple tightened. Just a touch and already her body was burning again. She took a deep breath, trying to focus on his words. “Why did I wait?” She laughed softly, a light, bitter laugh. “At first, I was too sick to care. After all, when you’re dying, making love is very low on your list of priorities. I was in and out of the hospitals. Sick from the therapy, the surgery, the medicine. I didn’t have the energy to waste on a relationship.”
She thought about the way it felt when William claimed her. Thought about the pleasure. The need. Yes, it was true that she hadn’t cared enough about making love to experiment. But if she’d known what she was missing . . .
His hand cupped her breast and Savannah bit back a sharp moan.
Oh, if she’d known . . .
But then again, making love with someone else wouldn’t have been the same. There was no one else like William. No one.
Already, her body was heating, her muscles clenching, as a new hunger swept over her.
“You’re so responsive.” His eyes began to smolder. He stared down at her, his features tense. His hand slid down her stomach, to the cradle of her thighs. “I want you again,” he said, his voice guttural. “I need to feel you, wrapped around me, squeezing me—” His fingers slipped inside her.
Savannah gasped at the mix of pleasure and pain that ripped through her.
William froze. “Savannah?”
She licked her lips. “I-I’m a little sore.” But she had a feeling that he could make her forget all about the pain.
He swore, the words eloquent and harsh. His fingers slowly withdrew from her, easing out of her passageway. “Of course, you are. I’m sorry. I—” His jaw clenched. “I don’t seem to have control around you.”
Her heart pounded at his heated expression. She realized she didn’t want him to have control. She wanted him to need her, to want her, desperately. No one had ever wanted her like that before. No one.
He locked one of his arms around her shoulders and slid his other arm under the curve of her knees. He lifted her easily, cradling her against his chest. He stared down at her, his gaze intent. “I’ll take care of you, Savannah.”
She gently traced the line of his scar. A scar his brother had given him on a bloody battlefield. “And I’ll take care of you.”
He blinked, as if startled.
Savannah smiled and rested her head against his broad shoulder. William didn’t realize it, but she knew that he needed her. Just as much as she needed him.
He walked through the house, carrying her easily. His arms were tight around her, secure. And she felt so safe in his arms. Being there, being with him, felt right.
In moments, he was standing on the back deck. Savannah glanced around curiously. A huge wooden deck extended along the entire length of the house. A large hot tub sat in the middle of the deck. The night sky shone down on them, the glitter of a thousand stars lighting the area. Savannah shivered, feeling the cool touch of the air upon her skin.
William eased Savannah to her feet, and his arm braced her against him. He bent down, quickly turning on the tub. A stream of bubbles erupted.
“This will help you. It’ll ease the soreness.”
The steam from the water began to rise, drifting like a ghost in the night. The soft sound of the bubbling water relaxed her. William helped her into the tub, and she sighed at the feel of the water. She sat down slowly, letting the warmth of the water envelope her.
William moved in beside her, his gaze watchful.
She leaned back, resting her head against the edge of the tub. The water felt good against her skin. But not as good as William.
“Better?” His hand rested on her thigh.
Savannah nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
He moved closer to her, his muscled leg sliding against her. His arm slipped behind her neck, cushioning her head.
He sat with her for an endless time, seemingly content to just stare into the night. Savannah didn’t speak. The moment seemed strangely special. The two of them, sitting in the quiet of the night. There was no death here. No monster waiting to attack. Just them.
She heard the distant cry of an owl, a sad, mournful cry. William shifted against her, pulling her closer to his body.
He was so strong. His body was full of thick, steely muscles that had been hidden behind his clothes. Now, naked, he looked like the warrior he’d been so long ago. The warrior that he still was.
She looked at him carefully, studying him from under the veil of her lashes. What had his life been like? What all had he seen and done in his thousand years?
She had done little in her life. She’d only just graduated from high school when the first tumor had been discovered. After that, her life had been a blur of hospitals and surgeries. She’d wanted to go to college. To study art in Europe. But she’d never had the chance.
“I can feel you, Savannah. Your sadness.” His voice rumbled against her. “What troubles you?”
“How can you tell—” She stopped as realization dawned. Of course, he knew. He’d given her the second bite. They were linked now. The second bite gave a vampire enormous power over his victim. According to the legend, he would be able to read her thoughts now. If he wanted, he could completely access her mind, no matter how far away she was from him.
She would never be able to escape him now.
“No,” he said softly. “You won’t.” His arms tightened around her.
“I don’t like you being in my mind,” she told him, her gaze fixed on the bubbling water. She didn’t want him, or anyone, to know all of her emotions, all of her thoughts.
“Why not?” There was a hard edge to his words. “You’ve been in mine for days.”
Her head snapped up, and she stared at him, stunned. “Wh-what do you mean?”
His stare was locked on her, fierce with intensity. “From the first moment that I saw you, you’ve been all that I could think about. Waking. Sleeping. You’ve been there. In my mind. Driving me crazy.”
She swallowed.
“I thought about you all the time. About the things that I wanted to do to you.” His stare burned her. “I wanted you, naked, beneath me. Holding me so tight that I couldn’t tell where you ended and I began.”
Need ripped through her. She’d thought she was too tired to respond anymore. But with just a few words, he had desire stirring within her again.
“You want me, too, don’t you?” William murmured, lifting his hand to caress her breast beneath the churning water. “I can feel your desire.” And it was true. He could feel it. Her passion. Her need. It inflamed him. He wanted her. Now. Wanted to feel her body clenching around his. Wanted to hear her moaning his name. Her desire was a temptation he couldn’t resist. His head lowered. “I want to taste it. Taste you.”
His lips captured hers. She met
him eagerly, her moist lips parting instantly for the thrust of his tongue. His body was rock hard, throbbing for her. He had to have her again. He had to.
His hands cupped her breasts. Perfect breasts. They fit into his hands like they were made for him. She moaned, and he drank the sound eagerly from her lips.
He parted her thighs, pushing his hips between them. The broad tip of his penis pushed against her opening, eager to return to the paradise of her body.
His right hand slid between their bodies. He found her core, teased her, pushed lightly against her button of desire. Her legs strained against him.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. And she was. He’d never seen anyone so perfect. Her eyes were bright, flashing with desire. Her cheeks flushed a light pink. Her lips were parted and moist, just waiting for his kiss. The starlight shone down on her, lighting her delicate skin with a gentle glow. She was so beautiful that he ached just looking at her.
Her nails dug into his back. Her hips pushed against him. The bloodlust rose within him. The beast, hungry for her, roared its need. Just a taste. Just one more taste . . .
His head lowered to her throat. He licked her. Once, twice. She was so sweet. So damn sweet. And he just needed a taste.
His incisors burned. He could feel them stretching. All it would take would be one bite. Just one bite. And she would be his forever.
He scraped her neck, opening his mouth wider. He caught her delicate skin with the edge of his teeth.
“William,” she whispered, her voice soft, full of need.
He froze. The beast within him howled. The man struggled for control.
She wasn’t strong enough. Her body wouldn’t survive the third bite. Not now. He’d taken too much from her earlier. The blood loss had made her too weak.
His body shook with the effort of maintaining control. He couldn’t do it. Not now. He couldn’t drink from her. If he did, he would kill her.
His head lifted slowly, painfully, away from her neck. He stared down at her, taking deep, gulping breaths. He had to stay in control. He couldn’t risk hurting her.
She lifted her hands, curving them around his shoulders and then sliding them down his chest. Her fingers brushed against his chest hair, rubbing against his nipples. Her scent wrapped around him, stirring his need, and her hips pressed against him, pushing the tip of his penis inside of her tight opening just a little more.
He shuddered. “So damn good,” he whispered, his voice a savage growl. He lifted her smooth, soft legs and wrapped them around his waist.
He couldn’t wait any longer. He thrust, deep and strong, into her welcoming warmth. They both gasped.
She was so tight. He could feel her body squeezing him, gently milking him. He moved slowly at first, trying to give her body a chance to grow accustomed to the feel of him. But then she moved, pushing her hips up against his. And he was lost.
He pulled back and then thrust deep. Again and again. His jaw clenched. Sweat beaded his brow. Deeper. He had to get deeper.
“Come on, Savannah. Come for me. Give me more. Give me—” Everything, he finished silently. He wanted everything that she had to give.
He felt her clench around him, heard her choked scream and felt the ripples of her release.
Her climax sent him over the edge. He thrust deep one more time and erupted. Pleasure slammed through him. His entire body shook in blissful release. He felt consumed by her, by the pleasure that ripped through him.
When the tide finally ended, his head dropped to her shoulder. His body shook slightly. His breathing was ragged. His heart pounded.
The water bubbled around them.
He kissed her smooth skin.
For the first time in over nine hundred years, he felt at peace. And it was because of her.
She lifted her hand, brushing it lightly through his wet hair.
He moved, shifting his body up. He captured her hand within his. His vision was strong. Even in the starlight, he could see the two red lines that marred her palm. He pulled her hand toward his mouth, licking the lines with gentle care.
She stared at him, her gaze direct, searching. She was his mate. This woman with the emerald eyes and sad mouth. She was his. And he would protect her with his life.
He withdrew slowly from her body, hating the separation from her warmth, but knowing that she needed time to rest. He had plans for her. And he had to make certain that she kept her strength. After all, it was going to be a long night.
“I SPOKE TO HER today.” Jack didn’t bother to identify himself. He knew that his employer would recognize his voice.
“And what did Ms. Daniels have to say?” The voice was cultured, slightly accented.
Jack had never been able to pinpoint the accent. Sometimes it sounded English. Sometimes French. He could never be certain. “She didn’t believe me, said William wasn’t the killer.”
“But he is.” His employer’s tone never changed. He spoke calmly, politely. “She must be made to see that. William Dark is a killer.”
Jack took a deep breath. He knew his boss wasn’t going to like this next bit of news, but he had to tell him. “She went to William.”
Silence.
Jack glanced quickly around his small hotel room. It was a floor below Savannah’s. All the furniture was the same. Small, sagging bed. Old color television that only picked up five channels. Scratched dresser and desk.
He was really getting tired of staying in places like this. Getting tired of chasing people that didn’t want to be caught.
“I didn’t hear you, Jack. Tell me again. What did Ms. Daniels do?”
Jack sighed and ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. “She went to him. I followed her. She left a little after dusk and took a cab up to his place.” She’d also taken a small duffel bag, so he knew that she planned to stay the night with William. She planned to stay, even though Jack had warned her away. “Dammit! I thought she’d have more sense. I thought she’d understand. That bastard killed her brother.”
“Some people just don’t know what’s good for them.”
That was the truth. Savannah Daniels had put her life in danger, but she didn’t seem to care. She’d stood before him, stubbornly declaring William’s innocence. She’d ignored Jack’s evidence, trusting completely in a man he knew to be a killer.
“Do you want me to keep following her?” Jack asked, trying to rub out the tension in his neck.
“Actually, I think I’ll handle Ms. Daniels from now on.”
Jack frowned. He suddenly went on high alert. Handle her? What did he mean by that? “What are you talking about?”
“No need for you to worry, Jack. I’ll keep an eye on Ms. Daniels from now on.”
For some reason, those calm words sent a chill skating down Jack’s spine. “But I’m here. In Tyler. I can keep an eye out, make certain she’s safe—”
“Your job’s finished, Jack. Go back home. Go back to that cute little school teacher that’s waiting on you.”
Jack’s fingers tightened around the receiver. How had he known about Kelly?
His employer continued talking, his voice as smooth as silk. “Don’t worry, Jack. I promise you, I’ll take special care of Ms. Daniels.”
The line went dead, and Jack suddenly realized that he had just a made a terrible, terrible mistake.
A mistake that might just cost an innocent woman her life.
Chapter Eight
William is my only hope, my last salvation.
—Entry from the diary of Henry de Montfort,
December 2, 1068
WILLIAM TOOK Savannah back upstairs just before dawn. He cradled her gently against his chest, holding her like the precious gift that she was. And he thought of the passion they’d shared . . .
He�
�d held her through the night. He’d heard her sweet moans, felt the clenching of her muscles that signaled her climax. He’d held her, heard her choked cry when she’d come beneath him. Heard her cry his name. He’d made love to her countless times. And every moment, he’d had to fight the beast inside, to fight the urge to take more of her precious blood. But she wasn’t ready for the final exchange yet. He would have to wait.
He stared down at her sleeping face. She was so beautiful. She had no idea of the power that she already wielded. She could get him to do anything she wanted with but a crook of her slender finger.
He knew it was dangerous to let her get so close. She would make him weak, vulnerable. And he couldn’t afford to be vulnerable, not with Geoffrey hunting.
He placed her gently onto her bed, pulling the covers over her naked body. She didn’t stir. He’d worn her out. He knew he should have restrained himself, but his need, his desire for her, had been too strong. And each time he’d reached for her, she’d met him with equal passion.
He stroked her cheek. She was his weakness. He knew that, and he would have to guard her well.
He kissed her lips, a light, whisper touch. He wouldn’t let Geoffrey touch her, not even in her dreams. He would stand guard for her, making certain that her sleep was peaceful.
After all, she was his mate. His.
He walked slowly down the stairs and into the great room, almost as if he’d been drawn there. He stood at the threshold, staring at Henry’s diary. He moved silently across the room and lifted his hands to pick up the diary, but then he stopped. He couldn’t do it. Not yet. He couldn’t read Henry’s words, see his brother’s last thoughts.
He was responsible for his brother’s death. His brother’s blood would always be on his hands.
He clenched his fists. No, his hands couldn’t touch the diary. Couldn’t open its precious pages. Not yet. He closed his eyes and saw his brother’s face.