by C. L. Quinn
He tugged on a strand of burgundy hair, and dropped a fingertip to brush across a nipple. His deep blue eyes moved back to hers. “Can I promise that we’ll make it? No. Can I convince you that we have to try? Hell, yes. Merry, tomorrow starts a new year. I want you to start it with me. I want to see this smile and those breasts when I wake up each and every day. It’s a risk. Love is always a risk. The question is, are you willing to take the risk with me? What do you leave behind?”
Who was this man who was thrust into her life by a terrifying event? Who was this man who seemed to own her heart before she ever had a chance to give it to him?
Merry pushed up and walked to her window. Chicago dressed for Christmas glittered into the white clouds that blanketed the busy city tonight.
“It’s beginning to snow again,” Merry said.
She felt him behind her. The window that barely blocked the cool air outside felt chilly, but his warm body covered her backside and protected her from the cold. She could feel his cock poking at her.
“It’s almost midnight. I see a bottle of wine on the counter. We can stay in bed, drink the wine and see where the new day takes us. What do you say, Christmas girl? Up for a new adventure?”
She turned in his arms and curled her hands around his neck. “I want you. I guess it isn’t complicated, is it?”
“It really isn’t.”
“You used the word love. It’s too soon for that.”
“Maybe. But I didn’t say that we were in love. I said we should give it a chance.”
He glowed. He filled her little room with life and the electricity of possibilities. She wanted him in her life, plain and simple. He was right, any risk was worth it to find magic hidden in ordinary days. Yes, yes!
“Okay. Just…okay.” Her heart pounded.
She watched as he walked over to the bottle of wine, popped the cork, filled two glasses half full, and handed one to her.
“Happy New Year, Merry.”
The End
SOMEWHERE IN GERMANY
He was magnificent. Claude looked into the mirror in the dingy underground remnants of the burned-out facility. The nasty space was lit by several candles and a million-candle power hand-held lantern he’d taken from a man on the outskirts of the city.
Compulsion wasn’t hard. It had taken some practice, but he’d had it down in a day.
He’d been right. The blood of that vampire was like rocket fuel…his conversion had been brutal and quick, and the outcome…
He looked at the giant in the dappled reflection.
He was a miracle, a vampire, and nothing could stop him now.