The Vampire's Kiss

by Cynthia Eden

  She didn’t like the sound of that. She began to climb slowly down the stairs. They creaked beneath her, the sound strangely like a woman’s moan.

  She could feel William behind her—feel the warmth of his body, the kiss of his breath against her hair. She felt so acutely attuned to him that she could swear that she even heard his heart beating.

  The stairs ended in front of another large, metal door. She glanced over her shoulder. She didn’t know if she wanted to see this. Her stomach clenched as dread grew heavy within her.

  William handed her the silver key. “Go on, Savannah,” he urged. “Open the door.”

  Feeling like Pandora, she hesitantly inserted the key into the lock and heard a soft click as the key slid into place. Her palms were sweaty as she turned the knob and pushed the door open.

  She walked slowly over the threshold and into a long, twisting tunnel. The tunnel was lit by a series of small lights.

  She didn’t ask William any questions. She just walked, wondering what would be waiting for her at the end of the tunnel.

  In moments, she had her answer. Another door. Wooden this time, not metal. There was no lock upon its old, scarred surface. She pushed it open, not waiting for William. A deep curiosity was beginning to burn inside her. What would she find in the room? A coffin? She closed her eyes for a moment, and then she stepped inside.

  At first, she saw only darkness. Then, in a flash, a dozen white candles lit, illuminating the room.

  And then she saw a large, Victorian bed like the one in her room. The covers were rumpled, as if someone had recently risen. She swallowed, pulling her eyes from the bed and forcing her gaze to travel over the rest of the room. There was a bookshelf in the back corner. It was stuffed with an assortment of books—hardbacks, paperbacks, classics and contemporary thrillers. The jackets were well-worn, the spines creased as if they’d all been read often.

  Two chairs sat near the bookshelf. They were old-fashioned, high-backed chairs. A small table sat between them, and a lamp rested on top of its carved surface.

  There was no sign of a coffin, and she let out a small sign of relief.

  “So, this is where you sleep during the day?” It wasn’t what she’d expected. The room, with its soft lighting and inviting bed, was cozy and welcoming. Not at all what she’d expected of William. Not what she’d expected of a vampire.

  He shut the door, and the sound seemed to echo through the underground tunnels.

  “Yes,” he said. “I’m safe down here. The sun can’t touch me, and the doors keep my enemies out.”

  She thought of the long tunnels and the curving stairs. “We’re inside the mountain, aren’t we?”

  He nodded. “It took me years to build this place.”

  “You built it?” She was impressed. For one man to have done so much work . . .

  “I needed a safe place to rest,” he said with a small shrug. “So I did what had to be done.”

  She couldn’t believe it. To dig inside the mountain. One man. “How is it possible? How could—”

  He laughed. “Ah, Savannah. Already you forget. I have the strength of ten mortal men. And I can move and work, ten times faster than an average human. It wasn’t hard for me to build this place. In fact, I’ve created over a dozen similar safe houses all around the world.”

  The strength of ten mortal men. She shook her head, dazed. “I didn’t realize you were so strong.” The words sounded silly to her ears, but they were the truth. She hadn’t fully understood the true extent of William’s power. Each time he’d touched her, he’d been gentle, considerate. She hadn’t realized he could literally crush her bones if he chose to do so.

  The physical strength is only the beginning. His words whispered through her mind, yet he did not say a word.

  She stilled. How could—

  We’re linked, Savannah. Joined in a way that few can ever truly understand. Wherever you go, whatever you do, I’ll be with you. In you.

  She felt his touch upon her, a light stroke against her brow. Yet he stood a good ten feet away from her.

  When he spoke, his voice was clear and his words were frightening. “I can do just about anything. My mind is incredibly strong.”

  “You can move objects,” she said, thinking of all the open doors and his vanishing clothes. “You can read minds. Control minds.”

  “Yes.”

  That kind of power stunned her. “How is that possible?”

  “The gifts come with the dark kiss.” He held his hand up, silently urging her to come to him.

  Savannah took a step back. “You said before that you couldn’t control me.” She vividly remembered their encounter in her hotel room. “But that was before the second exchange.”

  His expression never altered.

  “I know you can get inside my mind. You’ve proven that. But can you control my thoughts?” Fear almost choked her. She couldn’t stand being under someone else’s control.

  His hand dropped back to his side. He stood in front of the bed, staring across at her. She could actually feel the heat of his touch. “I don’t know,” he said. “I haven’t tried to control you again.” He frowned, apparently concentrating intently.

  “What? What is it?” Her heart seemed to freeze.

  He shook his head. “No good. I told you before, your mind is different.”

  “You can’t control me?” Could he hear the hope in her voice?

  “If I could, you’d be standing in front of me right now, naked and begging me to make love to you.”

  She blinked.

  “Since you haven’t moved, I’m going to have to assume that my attempt to bend you to my will failed.” The words were light, but his stare was that of a hungry predator. “So I guess I’ll just have to try another method of persuasion.”

  She was stunned. Surely he didn’t mean . . . “You want to make love to me? Now?” Her heart began to pound. A moment ago, she’d been afraid. Now, with just a look, a heated glance, need slammed through her.

  He stalked toward her. “Yes.”

  She looked up at him. His cheeks were flushed, his pupils dilated.

  He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her body flush against his. She could feel his arousal pressing against her. Hot. Strong.

  Heat began to pool between her legs. How was it possible? How could she go from fearing him to needing him all within mere moments?

  He kissed her, his mouth feeding on hers. She didn’t hesitate. She kissed him back, her tongue sliding against his, causing a low growl to sound from the depths of his throat.

  He pulled back, moving his mouth down the slender column of her neck. She felt the rough silk of his tongue sliding against her skin. She closed her eyes, her breath coming hard and fast. She fought to hold on to her reason, which was quickly disappearing into a whirlpool of desire. “Are you sure,” she paused, wetting her lips, “that you’re not controlling me?”

  His head lifted and his gaze locked on hers. Anger flashed across his face. “What do you think?”

  Her fingers clenched around the muscular width of his arms. “I think I need you more than I’ve ever needed anyone else. I think I want you so much that I can hardly breathe because the hunger is so sharp.” She could feel her body trembling. “I’ve never been like this before. This isn’t me!” And it wasn’t. She was always cool, always controlled. All of her emotions, her feelings, were held carefully in check. Now she felt wild, reckless. Her body was too hot. Her clothes too confining.

  William’s face softened. His fingers rubbed lightly over her sensitive lips. “Poor Savannah. You don’t completely understand what’s happening yet, do you?” His hands soothed her hair back with gentle care. “I feel it, too. The hunger. The need. I am as captive to it as you.”

  Her eyes widened.r />
  “I want you,” he whispered, his breath feathering over her. “I want you more than anything else on earth. You’re a fire within me. I see you, and I hunger. I need.”

  Her lips trembled. Her body yearned.

  “I’m not controlling you,” he continued, his voice husky. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

  She believed him. Her lips parted to speak.

  William stepped back and her arms fell weakly to her sides. She felt cold, empty, without him.

  With a wave of his hand, William sent the wooden door swinging open. “You can leave. You can go upstairs and sleep alone. You don’t have to be with me tonight. The choice is yours.”

  She thought about leaving. About returning to her quiet, empty room. And she thought about him.

  She took a step forward, wrapping her arms around him. “I want you, William. You.” Her will was her own. As was her desire.

  William scooped her up in his arms, carrying her easily toward the bed. The lights from the candles seemed to flare brighter.

  He held her tightly, pressing her against the strength of his chest. She could feel his heart pounding beneath her fingers. She could feel the tremor of desire that slid over his body.

  He placed her in the middle of the bed. Before she could even blink, he’d removed both their clothes. He stood, naked and strong, surveying her in the flickering candlelight. His gaze was intent, almost worshipful as it fell upon her.

  “You are the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen.” He touched her breast gently. Her nipple hardened. She arched into his touch.

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When his lashes lifted, she could see a faint red circle around his pupils. “I won’t be able to go slowly, not tonight.” The words were guttural.

  She reached for him, her arms sliding down his chest. Down to the curling mass of hair at the juncture of his thighs. She touched him, marveling at the strength and heat of his desire. Her fingers closed around him, squeezing lightly. He growled. She leaned forward, her tongue sliding to taste the tip of his shaft.

  “I don’t care,” she whispered. “I just want you.” She took him into her mouth.

  His fingers fisted in her hair. His eyes closed, and he shuddered against her.

  She kissed him. She licked him. He felt so strong. So hot. So—

  “Enough!” He pushed her back onto the bedcovers. His body slid on top of hers, and he pushed her thighs apart.

  She lifted her hips, eager to feel him once more.

  His mouth claimed hers, his kiss full of passion. Hunger. He thrust into her, and Savannah moaned as pleasure shot through her.

  His hands locked around her hips, and he lifted her, moving her in time with his powerful thrusts. Her head thrashed against the pillows. She heard someone crying, moaning, but she didn’t realize the noises were coming from her.

  William’s face was intent. His eyes blood red. His fingers were clenched so tightly around her hips that she knew they would leave marks. But she didn’t care. The pleasure was building. Closer. Closer. Her body tightened. Tensed.

  William surged into her. She exploded as waves of pleasure slammed through her. She screamed his name.

  He stiffened against her, his body going as taut as a wire. He closed his eyes, his teeth clenched. And he whispered her name.

  They rode the climax together, the pleasure so intense it was almost painful. Their bodies were locked together. Their hearts beat as one.

  For a timeless moment, they were one.

  “HOW DID YOU become a vampire?”

  William flinched at her question, his hand clenching around her arm. He’d been enjoying the aftermath of their lovemaking, enjoying the feel of her in his arms.

  “William?”

  Reality was intruding into his world, and he didn’t want it. He didn’t want to talk about his past. Not now. Not while they were still together. Not while the scent of lavender hung in the air. Not while he still touched her.

  He leaned forward and kissed her softly, a caress of the lips. And she had such wonderful lips. Full. Tempting.

  He pulled her closer, cradling her body against his. He wanted to hold her. To—

  She pushed against his chest. “William.” She swallowed, and he could see the need in her eyes. A need that she was struggling to control. “Tell me. Tell me what happened.”

  He sighed and ran his hand through his loosened mane of hair. “I thought you already knew. What was it you said that first day?” He frowned a moment, thinking. “Ah, yes, something along the lines of becoming a vampire because of my love of the ‘dark arts?’”

  She shook her head once, a quick motion. She pulled the sheet up over those soft, delicious breasts and stared at him, her lips pressed into a thin line. “That wasn’t true.”

  He lifted one brow. “And how do you know that?” His love of the dark arts was a legend that had begun before he even reached manhood.

  “You’re not evil, William.” Simple words. Honest words. He could see the sincerity on her face, hear it in her voice.

  Those simple words pierced him to the core. “There are those who would disagree with you,” he said, his jaw clenching. Sometimes, when he slept, he could still hear the whispers of the villagers. He could still see the fear and revulsion that filled their gazes. “They called me the Devil’s bastard.” The words slipped out without volition.

  She gasped, her face paling. “Who said that?”

  He remembered the little boy, not more than ten years old. The old hag. The blacksmith. “Everyone said it. They whispered it each time that I passed them. Every person on my father’s land thought I was cursed. And they hated me.”

  “I don’t understand.” Savannah shook her head in confusion. “Why? Why would they say that about you? Why would they hate you?”

  He sighed. “Because I was my father’s son.”

  Confusion and disbelief filled her gaze. “That’s crazy! Your father wasn’t—”

  He held up his hand, halting her speech. “Their stories were wrong, of course. My father wasn’t the Devil. Although at times he certainly acted the part.” His father, Baron Guy de Montfort, had been a cruel, sadistic warrior. He’d had no place in his life for weakness or sentiment of any sort. He’d tolerated William. He’d ignored Geoffrey. And he’d despised Henry.

  “My father was obsessed with power,” William told her. “He wanted control, absolute control of everyone and everything. He was a strong man. He commanded a vast army with a steel grip. No one could go against my father’s might and survive. No one. The villagers said that he’d traded his soul to the Devil in order to get his power.”

  “Had he?” Savannah asked.

  “My father never had a soul.” Cold, harsh words. “He never cared about anyone, certainly not me or my brothers.” Geoffrey had grown to be a man exactly like his father. Hungry only for blood and power.

  Savannah sat quietly, her gaze fixed upon him.

  He began to stroke her arm lightly. He wasn’t even aware of the gesture. “By the time I reached manhood, my father’s strength had started to wane, and he hated it.” He could still hear the sound of his father’s angry screams. Guy had been enraged by his body’s betrayal, by the onset of the weakness in his limbs. “He began to shake. To have spasms. He couldn’t lead his armies anymore. He became desperate.”

  William swallowed, seeing only the past. “He couldn’t stand what was happening to him. So he began to . . . seek out the counsel of others. Doctors.” He paused, and then he said, “Witches. Seers.”

  “What did he find out?” she whispered.

  “He found out that he could live forever.” William remembered his father’s wicked glee. “He found out that he could transform himself into a new being. An immortal.”

  “Your f
ather became a vampire?” Her shock was clear.

  William shook his head. “No. You see, he wasn’t sure the ritual would work. He wanted someone else to go through the change first, just in case something happened. Just in case his famed seer was wrong.”

  “Dear God,” she whispered. “He made you do it, didn’t he?”

  He nodded, his jaw clenched. The scar on his cheek was a vivid white. “He imprisoned Henry. He never cared for him. He thought Henry was weak. Henry hated our father. He couldn’t stomach his evil. He wouldn’t march with Guy in battle, and Guy viewed his actions as a betrayal. He told me that the punishment for betrayal was death.

  “He tortured Henry. Kept him captive for days without my knowledge. Then, when he was barely alive, Guy brought him to me. I was training with my men, and Guy dragged Henry’s battered body into the courtyard. Henry was hardly recognizable. He told me that Henry was dying. That if I wanted to save him, I would seek out a dark creature. A vampire. And I would take his power.”

  She stroked his cheek gently. “Oh, William. I’m so sorry.”

  His eyes flashed at her. “I don’t need your pity, Savannah.”

  She flinched and dropped her hand.

  His jaw clenched. He knew he’d hurt her. But he wasn’t used to someone caring about him; he wasn’t used to someone trying to comfort him.

  He took her hand in his, a silent apology. After a moment, he kept talking, needing to tell the story, the whole story. To finally tell the dark story to someone. No, needing to tell her. “I followed the seer’s instructions, and I found the vampire. It was a man.” He shook his head, remembering his first sight of the vampire. “He looked barely eighteen. I thought he was just a lad. I remember that he had blond hair and light blue eyes.” Sad eyes. Eyes that had seen too much of the world. Eyes that had seen too much death. “I told him about Henry, I told him that he had to transform me.”

  “And he agreed.”