“So have I. And I don’t particularly like the conclusions I’ve drawn.” Mark stalked across the bedroom to drop into the cream armchair that stood beside the bed.
Hope sat down on the bed and leaned forward to brace her elbows on her knees. “How much blood do you really need, Mark? Do you have to drink as much as you did the first time, or was that just because you were starving?”
He settled back in his chair, frowning. “I don’t think I’m going to need that much again. The Thirst seems a hell of a lot more manageable now than it did when Stone was alive. I think a pint or so would probably be enough to satisfy it.”
“Maybe you could. . . umm. . . convince somebody at the hospital to provide you with units of blood.”
He winced slightly. “Yeah, but what if somebody needs that blood?”
“You need that blood.”
“I can also use my powers to convince people to let me drink from them and then forget about the experience.” Mark shrugged his broad shoulders. “I don’t much like the idea, it’s a bit too close to rape, but it may be the best alternative I have.”
Hope sighed. She didn’t much like the idea either, but he was right, he didn’t have a choice. “Yeah. You certainly can’t starve yourself. You really would lose control of the Thirst then.”
Mark bounced one knee in an uncharacteristically nervous gesture. “I’m going to have to leave Reede County. This town is too small. Somebody’s going to notice me. I need to go somewhere I can blend in with a large population. New York, Chicago. L.A. maybe.”
“Yeah, I figured as much. I’m going with you.”
“And give up your career? You worked too hard to become a cop, and you’re too good at it. Besides, your mother is here.”
“So are your parents. We’d have to come back to visit them anyway. As for jobs, maybe we could become private detectives.” Hope managed a grin. “Seems to work for the vampires on TV.”
“Yeah, but that’s TV.” Mark rose and began to pace. Hope watched the muscles of his ass work beneath the faded fabric of his jeans. Yum. “This is real life. As much as I want to be with you, it’s not going to work.”
“You’re forgetting something.” She rose and stepped into his path, forcing him to stop short. “I love you.” Hope planted a hand in the center of his chest, feeling with warm pump of his heart beneath it. “I’ve always loved you. And that’s not likely to change.”
She said the next words into the mental link that still stretched between them like a delicate gold chain. And you love me. Enough to fight Stone for me. Enough to fight your own Thirst. But you don’t need to fight anything or anyone anymore. “We won, Mark. We beat the bastard. And we deserve to be happy. Together. The way we always should have been.”
“Hope—.”
“I’m not giving up on you again. I told you that when you were in Stone’s cage, and I meant it.”
Frustration and fear flashed over his face, and a muscle in his jaw bunched. “But what if I hurt you? I could have killed you! You were so damned pale, so weak you could barely stand. God alone knows how you were able to fight that little blond bimbo of Stone’s—”
“I didn’t just fight her, I won. Because I don’t give up.” Hope narrowed her eyes at him. “You might want to keep that in mind.”
“What if I can’t control the Thirst next time? It was so close—.”
“And it will never be that bad again,” Hope told him fiercely. “You didn’t hurt me even when you were half insane with hunger. You won’t hurt me now. Or ever.” She gave him a hot little grin. “I won’t let you.”
“Do you really think you could stop me?” Mark wrapped his big hands around her shoulders and stared hard into her eyes. “When I think what I could have done to you, it rips my guts out.”
“Then don’t leave me.” She fisted her hand in his shirt and tugged hard. “Because nothing you could do with your teeth would tear me apart like trying to live without you.” And you know that, just like I know you couldn’t live without me either. “So drop the bullshit and let’s get started on our happily ever after.”
* * * * *
He wanted to. God, he wanted to. Mark stared down into those gold-shot eyes and knew living without her would be no life at all.
He could feel her determination, so intense it almost vibrated the link between them like a guitar string. Hope might be smaller than he was, slim and delicate against his brute vampire strength, but there was a core of iron-laced bedrock in her that didn’t yield to anyone.
However much he doubted himself, he didn’t doubt Hope. She would find a way.
“We will find a way,” she corrected. Rising onto her toes, she took his mouth. The kiss was hot, ferocious, as she slid her tongue into his mouth in tiny teasing flicks that enticed him into chasing it with his own. Right back into the sweet haven of her mouth.
God, she tasted good. A hint of mint flavoring that ineffable essence of Hope, fierce, pure and primal.
His hand found the delicate line of her jaw, traced down the elegant cord of her throat, stroked the line of her collar bone. Silk and warmth and elegant strength.
Somehow her breast filled his hand—he hadn’t been aware of reaching for it— her nipple hardening beneath the texture of the silk and lace he could feel beneath the cotton of her tee. He stroked and squeezed, sighing against her mouth. She kissed the corner of his mouth, gently bit the cleft of his chin, and nibbled down the thick tendon of his throat, her teeth closing in occasional little nips almost hard enough to sting. He let his head fall back and surrendered, enjoying each hot bite.
Until Hope rocked back and jerked his blue knit shirt from the waistband of his jeans, the gesturing shouting of impatient need. She dragged it up his chest, and he lifted his arms, letting her strip it off over his head. The shirt hit the carpet beside his boots, and she attacked his jeans, the snap yielding to her fingers, the zip hissing down.
Reaching into the slit of his cotton boxers, Hope freed his cock to tumble into her hand. Mark looked down and watched his shaft hardening in the grip of those long fingers, so slim and pale wrapped around its ruddy thickness.
“I love your cock.” Her expression absorbed, Hope stroked him with one hand as she cupped his balls with the other. “I love the way it fills my hands.” Wicked honey eyes slanted up at him. “I love the wall it fills my mouth. Hot. Thick. Salty. A little bitter.”
A wave of erotic heat pulsing through his blood, and he grabbed her shirt. The tee tore like rice paper.
Mark stared at the shreds of fabric in his hands, a little taken aback. “I meant to pull it off over your head.”
Hope bared her small teeth in a wild white grin. Her fingers tightened so deliciously he groaned at the shooting pleasure. “I’ve got six more just like it in a drawer. You can shred every one of them for all I care.”
“Keep doing that, and I will.”
They laughed as they undressed one another, fumbling with zippers and snaps, fabric that clung stubbornly to legs, shoes that refused to release feet. But finally they stood naked, and Mark snatched her off her feet and tossed her onto the bed.
“Oh, baby,” he said, watching the results with lusty appreciation. “I do love the way you bounce.”
Hope grinned wickedly up at him. Her gaze flicked down his body to his cock jutting at a distinct upward angle. “You’re not bad yourself, stud.”
Mark pounced, his mouth finding a hard nipple for a long, hungry suckle. The Thirst reared, but he shoved it back down with an ease that surprised him. It didn’t stand a chance against the thrumming elemental heat of his desire.
Hope did some kind of Aikido thing with his hip and one shoulder, and suddenly she was on top of him, head down over his cock.
Which left him with a gorgeous view of her ass and the rosy folds of her pussy. Never one to waste an opportunity, Mark lifted his head and went to work. She was as creamy as fresh-churned butter, and he slid a finger deep, pumping, enjoying the way she gripped h
im. Imagining the sensation of all that tight slick flesh wrapped around his. . . .
Her mouth swooped down over his cock, and he damned near launched into orbit. She sucked him in hard, deep, her hands stroking his balls, squeezing tenderly.
But as delicious as all that was, her pussy lay open over his mouth, pink and glistening. He spread her lips and licked, just once, and grinned as she jolted. Two can play that game.
They certainly can, she purred back. Let’s play it some more.
Her first climax was one of those delicious blooms of gentle delight, shimmering like some exotic jungle lily. Hope, still suckling Mark’s cock, shuddered at the first warm waves of pleasure.
A moment later she found herself on her back, Mark looming over her. She hadn’t even seen him move. Need burned wild in his eyes, and his fangs flashed as he lifted her legs to spread her wide. He hooked one of her knees across a forearm and hooked the heel of her other foot over his shoulder.
Mark entered in one of those endless silken glides. The position of her legs gave his cock all new nerves to stroke, and he began bowing his shaft across them like a violinist. His hips rolled lazily, thigh muscle rippling with every powerful thrust.
Because he was rocked back on his knees, both hands were free to play. The fingers of his right teased and rolled one nipple as the thumb of his left stroked circles over her slick clit. His cock provided even more stimulation, winding the gossamer strands of her orgasm tighter and tighter. Hope tossed her head and ground up at him, seeking that last velvet stroke that would launch her into space.
Mark threw back his head as he stiffened, all that luscious sculpted brawn bunching as he climaxed. He rammed forward, and that last thrust to the balls catapulted Hope over the top.
There was nothing gentle about that orgasm. It thundered in like a blazing solar storm, all heat and pounding force, soaring strands of fire licking at her senses.
She screamed, high and helpless as he roared.
* * * * *
Mark eased out from between Hope’s legs and fell on the bed beside her, sweat sheened and panting.
She knew what he needed to do to banish Stone’s violent ghost forever. Sitting up, she swung a leg over his hip, then lay down on top of him. Sweeping her hair out of the way, she angled her throat directly over his mouth. “Drink from me. Take my blood.”
Mark jolted, eyes going wide. “Hope. . . . ”
Trust me. Trust us. Trust yourself as I do.
He hesitated a moment more, wrestling his fear. Then he took a deep breath like a cliff diver about to leap. His fangs cut her skin with exquisite care, and his lips sealed over the stinging little wound. Hope closed her eyes as he drank, stroking the thick silk of his hair.
He pulled away a few careful minutes later to study her face. “Are you all right?”
She grinned happily up at him. “Not even dizzy.”
He relaxed, stroking her hair away from her face with one big hand. Suddenly his eyes widened. Hope eyed him warily. He wore the expression of a man who’d just gotten a wild idea. “What?”
“What if I made you a vampire? You’d have all the strength and healing ability I have. The injuries Stone gave me are already gone. You’d be safe with me.”
Hope stroked a hand through his hair again, smiling up into his excited gaze. “I’m already safe with you, Mark. You just proved it.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I do.” She paused, thinking it over. He’s right. It would solve one hell of a lot of problems. “And yes, I’ll become a vampire. On one condition.”
He lifted a gold brow. “And what would that be?”
Hope gave him her best wicked little smile to hide a sudden attack of nerves. What if he says no? “Marry me.”
His smile stretched as wide and bright as a boy’s on Christmas morning. “God, yes. I love you, Hope Bradford.”
And I love you, she told him, feeling the pure shimmer of that love spill light across their joined souls.
# # # # #
About The Author
Angela Knight’s first book was written in pencil and illustrated in crayon; she was nine years old at the time. But her mother was enthralled, and Angela was hooked.
In the years that followed, Angela managed to figure out a way to make a living—more or less—at what she loved best: writing. After a short career as a comic book writer, she became a newspaper reporter, covering everything from school board meetings to murders. Several of her stories won South Carolina Press Association awards under her real name.
Along the way, she found herself playing Lois Lane to her detective husband’s Superman. He’d go off to solve murders, and she’d sneak around after him trying to find out what was going on. The only time things got really uncomfortable was the day she watched him hunt pipe bombs, an experience she never wants to repeat.
But her first writing love has always been romance. She read The Wolf and The Dove at 15, at least until her mother caught her at it.
In 1996, she discovered the small press publisher Red Sage Publishing, and realized her dream of romance publication in the company’s Secrets 2 anthology. Since then, her work has appeared in four Secrets anthologies. She’s tremendously grateful to publisher Alexandria Kendall for the opportunity to make her dreams come true. She believes her writer son, Antony, will one day follow in her footsteps.
Red Sage Publishing
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