The Vampire's Kiss

by Cynthia Eden

  She blinked and took a deep breath. Energy hummed through her body. Energy . . . and strength.

  She remembered the fear that had swept through her last night. Her hand lifted and she touched her chest. She could feel the movement of her heart. Slow, steady.

  “Will it always be like that?” She asked softly.

  William nodded. “But you’ll get used to it.”

  Would she? Would she really get used to feeling her heart stop beating? Well, it wasn’t as if she really had a choice.

  He touched her cheek. “It will get easier, Savannah. Believe me. Soon it will seem to be natural. Just like your human sleep.”

  She certainly prayed that he was right. She glanced toward the now raised curtain and blinds. Night had fallen. It was time for her to hunt. To hunt Geoffrey.

  She shifted, preparing to rise, but William’s hands locked around her, holding her captive. She frowned. “William? What is it?”

  His gaze searched her face. She noticed that his jaw was clenched, his scar standing out starkly against his skin.

  “I want us to go back to North Carolina.”

  “What? Why?” They were so close to their goal. They knew where Geoffrey was. They’d been so close to his resting place last night. Now was the time to attack, not to run.

  “You’re not strong enough to do this, to face him.” His tone was rough. “You need to wait until—”

  “Until he kills someone else? Until he slaughters someone else’s brother? Someone else’s wife?” She shook her head. “No, I can’t do it. I can’t wait any longer. He has to be stopped.”

  “Then let me do it. Let me stop him. Go back to my home and let me take care of Geoffrey.” His eyes blazed down at her.

  “Oh, I get it. I’m supposed to be the little woman who stands back and lets you take care of the big, bad monster, right?” Anger flushed her cheeks and flattened her speech. “I’m supposed to stand back and let you do all the work, right? Right?”

  A muscle flexed in his jaw.

  “Wrong!” She snapped, struggling against his hold. She couldn’t believe that he would even suggest such a thing. To think that she would just stand back, just sit quietly, while he went after Geoffrey. “You promised me, William! You promised me that I would have my vengeance!”

  He pressed her into the bed cushions, controlling her when she struggled for her freedom. “Dammit, Savannah! He’s my brother!”

  “And he killed mine!” She bucked against him, kicking and scratching with all of her might.

  William froze, his fingers locked around her wrists. Blood trickled from a deep cut on his cheek. His eyes flashed red, then black. “I don’t want him to hurt you,” he said, his voice soft and deep.

  “He’s not going to hurt me,” she promised, locking her gaze with his. “He’s not going to hurt anyone else. We’re going to stop him!”

  His fingers stroked her delicate skin. Her pulse pounded furiously beneath his touch. “You’re still weak from the change. You need more time to recover, to learn about your powers. Come with me to the mountains—”

  She could hear the plea in his words, could hear the soft entreaty. But she could not give in. “I’m going after him. With, or without you.” She wouldn’t let another innocent person’s blood be on her hands. She had to stop him.

  “The blood isn’t on your hands,” he told her softly. “It’s on mine. It’s always been on mine.” He released her and stood, gazing down at her with swirling eyes.

  She sat up slowly, pushing her hair back with a quick hand.

  William gazed at her, but she could tell he saw only the past. “I should have killed him when I had the chance.”

  She reached for his hand. Her fingers locked with his. “Tell me, William. Tell me what happened.”

  William exhaled heavily, and the shadows of his past swept into the room. “Henry was dead, but I couldn’t just leave him there. I couldn’t let those bastards desecrate his body. So I took him down through the tunnels beneath my father’s fortress . . .”

  He could still see it so clearly. So clearly.

  The tunnels were dank, dark. The odor of death and decay hung in the air. Henry’s body was a slight weight against his shoulder, but the grief he felt was overwhelming.

  He’d been too late. Too late to save Henry, too late to save the brother he’d always tried so hard to protect.

  He didn’t know how long he walked through the tunnels. The passageway narrowed, until he had to turn sideways and pull Henry behind him. Then the passage widened again, and he continued this trek, lifting his brother’s broken body high into his arms.

  His great-grandfather had first found the passages. They were a family secret, to be used in an emergency. The winding passages led to the cliffs on the northern end of his family’s land.

  He’d visited the cliffs often as a child. Henry had followed him, a quiet, steady shadow. One day they’d discovered a cave nestled in the cliffs. It was small, probably not more than fifteen feet deep.

  They had spent countless days in that cave, talking and planning. It had been their secret place. Their refuge from their father’s rage.

  The cave would now be his brother’s final resting place. Henry would be safe in the cave. No one would find him. He could rest there, for eternity.

  The passage shifted, beginning to curve upward. William could smell the sea, almost feel the cool touch of the water against his face.

  He walked out into the waiting night.

  Something slammed into him, sending him crashing to his knees. He struggled to hold onto Henry.

  “Get up! Rise, you bastard!”

  William felt the tip of a blade press against his throat.

  He moved slowly, easing Henry’s body to the ground. The blade pressed deeper, drawing blood.

  William’s gums began to burn, his teeth began to grow.

  He rose slowly, his gaze lifting to meet the burning red stare of the man before him.

  His brother Geoffrey smiled at him, revealing gleaming fangs. “Surprised, brother? Did you think you were the only one worthy of the dark gift?”

  Horror rolled through William. “Geoffrey! Dear God, what have you done?” He could still see his father’s body, see the blood that stained the ground.

  Geoffrey’s eyes narrowed and the blade bit deeper into William’s throat. “What have I done? I have fulfilled my destiny. I have taken the power that I was always meant to have!” His gaze fell to Henry’s still body. “The question, brother, is what have you done?”

  William blanched. “I tried to save him, I tried, but I was too late. He was already—”

  “Henry was the only one I cared about,” Geoffrey said softly. “My true brother. My blood.”

  “He was my brother, too! I tried to save him!” He’d done everything he could to save Henry.

  “You killed him,” Geoffrey raged. “You killed Henry!”

  William wanted to deny the words. He’d tried so hard to save Henry. He’d sought out the vampire. He’d taken the dark gift. He’d done everything, but . . . Henry was dead.

  “You were never the strong one, despite what Father thought.” Geoffrey’s lip curved into a snarl. “I should have been sent first. If Father had sent me, Henry would be alive now!”

  A dark suspicion grew in William as he stared into his brother’s hate-filled gaze. “Did you know what Father was doing to Henry?”

  Geoffrey didn’t answer him.

  “Did you know that Father was torturing him?” William roared, impervious to the feel of steel cutting into his throat.

  “I knew what the bastard was doing. I always knew.”

  Geoffrey and his father had been alike in so many ways. They shared the same dark lust for power, for blood. William’s gaze
fell as he stared at the sword before him. It was Guy’s sword. “You killed Father, didn’t you?”

  “Of course, I killed him. I should have killed the bastard long ago! I was never good enough for him. Never strong enough. Not like his precious William!” Geoffrey spat. “He always thought you were so strong. ‘His only real son!’” He quoted with a look of disgust.

  “Geoffrey—”

  His brother didn’t appear to even hear him. “I should have been the firstborn son, the favored one, not you! I was the one meant for greatness. Not you!”

  William slowly moved his right hand toward the hilt of his sword.

  “You should have died long ago.” Geoffrey’s face was a mask of rage. “You should have died in that cursed river. Then I would have been the next de Montfort. I would have been the next leader!”

  You should have died in that cursed river. A chill swept through William. He remembered that day. The water had felt like ice. He’d struggled, fighting desperately to stay afloat. He’d screamed for help, he’d begged Geoffrey to help him.

  He’d always thought that Geoffrey had gone to get his father’s soldiers. That Geoffrey had tried to save him. But his brother had just wanted to kill him.

  William’s fingers locked around his sword hilt.

  “You did not die then,” Geoffrey said. “But you will die now!”

  William drew his sword in a silent, deadly rush. Their swords hit with a jarring impact.

  “Do not be too certain of that, brother!”

  He’d spent his entire life training for battle. Since he’d been given the dark kiss, William was even stronger, more powerful. But Geoffrey was a perfect match for him.

  Blade sang against blade as the weapons clashed.

  They had trained together, from the moment they were old enough to walk onto the field of battle. They had learned, side-by-side, the ways to strike, to attack, to kill.

  Now, they fought each other.

  Geoffrey’s sword slashed down, catching William along his arm. Blood poured, soaking his garments.

  Geoffrey laughed, his eyes alight with the thrill of battle. “Do you know what the peasants call me, brother? Do you?”

  William had heard the talk. The whispers. He swung his sword, blocking Geoffrey’s attack. His brother was a strong fighter, a dirty fighter. He could not afford to let his guard down.

  “You may be the Dark One to them,” Geoffrey said, grunting as he dodged William’s sword, “but I am the one they truly fear. I am called the Butcher!”

  Geoffrey’s weapon flashed toward William’s chest. William swung, blocking the blade a second before it would have plunged into his heart.

  Geoffrey twisted, lunging up with a knife that he’d concealed in his left hand. The knife sank into William’s shoulder.

  William groaned as agony lanced through him.

  “I am called the Butcher because I do not just kill my enemies.” Geoffrey laughed, the sound maniacal. “I slaughter them. As I will slaughter you!”

  “Not . . . if . . . I . . . kill . . . you . . . first . . .” William lunged, swinging his broadsword with all his strength. Metal screamed as his brother’s sword broke beneath the force of his blade.

  Geoffrey fell to the ground, stunned by William’s strength.

  William grunted, pulling the knife from his shoulder. He stared at the bloody blade and then looked down at Geoffrey.

  Geoffrey moved, crouching, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

  William dropped his sword and gripped the knife. He lunged for his brother.

  Geoffrey met him head on.

  William slammed his fist into Geoffrey’s jaw.

  Geoffrey stumbled back, and then he turned, lashing out with his booted foot. William jumped to the side, narrowly avoiding his brother’s attack.

  His fingers were slick with blood as they gripped the knife.

  “You cannot kill me,” Geoffrey snapped. “You’re not strong enough!”

  William threw the knife. It sank, hilt deep, into his brother’s chest. Geoffrey stared at him, stunned. Then he fell to the ground.

  William stared at Geoffrey’s prone body. He knew Geoffrey wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be. It would take more than a steel blade to kill one such as him.

  Geoffrey began to laugh. Rich, deep laughter spilled from his throat even as his blood spilled onto the ground.

  William took a step toward his brother. One, then another. He moved cautiously, knowing that Geoffrey could attack at any moment.

  He stared down at Geoffrey. Moonlight spilled down upon his brother’s visage. Blood trickled from his mouth.

  “It will take more . . . than this . . . to kill me.” Geoffrey’s lips twisted into his familiar mocking smile.

  William reached down and pulled the knife from his chest. “I know.” He swallowed. He didn’t have a wooden stake. That left only one other way to kill a vampire.

  Geoffrey’s smile faded as he read William’s intent. “You cannot—” He coughed, choking on his blood.

  “I will do what I must.” William’s hands shook as he thought of the grim task before him.

  “I . . . am . . . the Butcher . . . not you.”

  William closed his eyes. Could he do it? Could he kill his own brother?

  Geoffrey seemed to sense his thoughts.”You . . . killed . . . Henry. Are . . . you . . . going . . . to kill . . . me . . . as . . . well?”

  William’s eyes flashed open and he stared down at Geoffrey’s prone figure. For an instant, a shattering second, he saw Henry’s face. Henry’s bright blue eyes staring back at him. He could see Henry’s sadness. See the plea on his brother’s face.

  And he hesitated.

  Geoffrey attacked. He shot to his feet in a blur of speed. He ripped the knife from his chest and plunged it into William’s heart.

  William felt the cold touch of death upon his cheek.

  Geoffrey touched him lightly with a bloodstained finger. “Tell me, brother,” he whispered, leaning close to stare into William’s eyes. “Are you afraid to die?”

  William’s body fell to the ground.

  WILLIAM SHOOK HIS head slowly, trying to shake off the weight of his past. “The sun started to rise then. He left me, knowing that I’d die when the sunlight touched my body. He laughed, and he left me there. He left me there to die.”

  “How did you survive?” She asked softly.

  William glanced at Savannah. She’d sat quietly while he spoke. Her legs were curled beneath her, and her hands were linked tightly together.

  She looked so beautiful. So good. He didn’t deserve her.

  “William?” Her brows furrowed. “Is something wrong?”

  He swallowed and forced himself to look away from the understanding and concern he could see so clearly in her emerald eyes. “No,” he stopped, cleared his throat and repeated. “No, nothing’s wrong.”

  “How did you survive?” She asked again. He could feel her gaze upon him, its weight like a physical touch upon his skin.

  “I didn’t have much strength. I’d lost too much blood. But I knew that I couldn’t just stay there. That I couldn’t wait for the sun to rise and finish me.” No, he hadn’t been able to just lie there and wait for death. He’d known that he had to survive. He’d known that he had to stop Geoffrey.

  “The cave was close. I knew if I could just get in the cave, I would be safe. I would be able to rest until sunset. I managed to get to my feet, and I grabbed Henry’s arms. I pulled him with me and I made it into the cave.” He shook his head. “It was close. Too close. My skin had already started to burn.” He could still smell the stench of burning flesh.

  “And when you woke at sunset?”

  His lips twisted. “I said good-bye to Henry, and I started hu
nting Geoffrey.” And he’d been hunting him for nine hundred years.

  “When you find Geoffrey, what are you going to do?”

  William sat on the edge of the bed. His gaze met hers. “I’m going to kill him.” The words were a vow. This time, he wouldn’t fail.

  A small frown line appeared on her forehead. “Even though he’s your brother?”

  “Henry was my brother. He died a long time ago. Geoffrey . . .” He took a deep breath. “Geoffrey is evil. He lives to hurt others. To torture them. If there was ever any goodness inside of him, it died a long time ago.” Her fingers stroked his arm. He stared down at her hand. It looked so fragile, so delicate. He lifted his fingers, capturing her hand. “Savannah, I’ll go after him. I’ll make certain that he never hurts another person, I swear I will.”

  “No.” She shook her head, but made no attempt to withdraw her fingers from his hold. “You’re not going after him alone. We’re doing this together. Remember the bargain—”

  “Screw the bargain!” William exploded. “I am not going to let him get near you. He’s too strong. If he killed you—” He broke off. He shuddered at the thought of Savannah’s death. No. No, it couldn’t happen. He couldn’t let his brother get anywhere near her. He would protect her.

  “You can’t protect me from everything,” she said, her gaze watchful. “There are things in this world that I must face on my own.”

  “You don’t have to face him!” William snapped.

  Her gaze was steady. “Yes, I do.”

  His hands clenched. He could read the determination so clearly in her voice. “If he hurts you—”

  “He’s not going to get the chance,” she promised. “You and I are going to stop him.”

  He knew that she wasn’t going to give up. She wouldn’t let him go alone. He would have to make certain that she was safe. And he would stop his brother. Or die trying.

  He leaned forward and kissed her. Hard. Deep. He needed to taste her, to feel her lips against his.

  She responded immediately, her tongue thrusting against his and a low moan rumbling in her throat.