by Calista Fox
And the knight in shining armor looked more on edge than before.
Definitely not a doctor.
His black eyes landed on her hand and a dark eyebrow lifted.
Bev couldn’t help but smile at the awkward-looking bandage. “Couldn’t find the first-aid kit. Must be in one of the boxes I have yet to unpack.”
“Sure you don’t need to go to the hospital for stitches?”
“Oh no,” she was quick to say. “I wrapped it tight and the blood was already starting to clot. I really am a quick healer. Runs in the family.”
Okay, bring it down a notch. Sufficient enough explanation provided…
“Well, let me know if you need anything,” Cane said, still looking off kilter. Unsettled. He shifted abruptly on the heels of his black leather boots and sauntered off, leaving Bev in her kitchen as the ever-persistent clouds lingered outside and the thunder snapped.
The front door had barely closed when the distant crackle of lightning filled her ears, warning her of trouble to come.
Chapter Two
The scent wafting on the sultry evening breeze was now a disturbingly familiar one.
Her blood teased him, taunted him, tormented him. The rich aroma infiltrated his vampire senses and heightened his already too-intense arousal.
Made his cock strain against the zipper of his pants, demanding freedom. To drive deep and please.
Made his fangs threaten to protrude. To drive deep and drink.
A low snarl tore from Cane’s parted lips. Stalking the front portion of his wraparound veranda, his stride long and stealthy, he felt tortured to the core of his undead being.
He’d only spoken with his new neighbor once since she’d moved in, but that was enough. He already knew too much about the woman who’d bought the pristine Victorian beside his restored Colonial. Both homes edged the resuscitated Thomas Square Streetcar Historic District in downtown Savannah. Their side verandas faced each other, separated by a manicured courtyard carpeted with lush green grass and dotted by tall oak trees. Spanish moss dripped from the thick branches of the hundred-year-old trees, but neither provided an ample buffer from the haunting presence he could neither evade nor escape.
Cane had a perfect view of the Victorian rising up three stories beside him. Along with the tall French doors on the west side that were cracked open this evening, which he presumed led to her bedroom.
Another dark noise ripped from his mouth at the thought of Bevelyn Goitia. And her intoxicating blood.
Moonflower and amaryllis typically competed with each other as the prevailing alluring scent this time of year. But not since she’d arrived. Her blood—her very essence—seemed to be all he inhaled these days.
He’d learned she was a corporate headhunter who’d been wooed by an international firm, lured to Savannah with a promotion and a large corner office with a bay view. She’d bought the house next to his. Was redecorating it at night.
Those particulars, which he’d easily gleaned this past week, were inconsequential to him. What resonated within Cane was the hypnotic scent of her blood, hopelessly trapped in his nostrils following the knife-cut incident three days earlier. Not to mention her equally intoxicating beauty. Her shimmering, pale green eyes. Her thick, lush-looking, dark auburn hair. Her artistically sculpted face that showcased high cheekbones and full, plump, ruby-red lips.
Lips he could practically feel pressed to his. Lips he could easily imagine gliding over his skin, wrapping around his cock, pleasuring him until he was wild with desire and need.
And her body… Holy hell. To have it beneath his. Or on top of him…
Those lush curves were designed to star in the darkest, most erotic fantasies.
He should know. Wicked thoughts of her looped in his mind practically every waking second. And what he’d done to her as she’d haunted his dreams, morning after morning this past week, was nothing short of pure, unadulterated sin.
He’d plunged deep, taking her every way imaginable, making her scream and beg for more.
Leaving him desperate to oblige in reality.
But damn it! She was human.
Cane scowled as he turned sharply on his booted heels and paced in the opposite direction. How was it possible, after two-hundred-and-twenty-seven years of immortal existence—and after all the painful lessons he’d learned along the way—that a human could stir his senses in such an overwhelming, unrelenting way?
Elicit a riot of groin-straining sensations that made him half out of his mind with wanting her?
She was a mortal, for Christ’s sake.
He was a vampire.
Yet already he knew the innate attraction that existed between them was impossible to deny. Not only could he feel his desire and need for her to the depths of the soul he’d fought so hard to restore, but he could see the passion he stirred within her when he looked deep into her mesmerizing, peridot-colored eyes.
The vampire and the human were a powder keg and a match just waiting to be lit!
And he’d burn in hell if he got too close to her. Because her scent alone drove him wild, made him damn near forget all the rules by which he lived.
One taste of her skin, her lips, her blood… Hell would become a picnic for the torture he’d suffer.
Because he could never truly have her.
“Fuck,” he whispered as he raked a hand through his hair. Fate could be so goddamn cruel.
As it was, he couldn’t have gotten away from her quickly enough upon that first meeting. When the scent of her had infiltrated every crack and crevice of his body, mind and soul. Her blood had oozed onto his hands as he’d uncurled her injured fist and he’d nearly lost all control. Despite his trained aversion to human blood.
Bev was different than any other woman he’d known in his extended lifetime. He couldn’t attribute the reason to anything tangible or logical. All he knew was that he’d never wanted to taste a mortal’s flesh or blood the way he had when he’d held her wounded hand and gotten his first full whiff of her mesmerizing essence.
It drove him mad to even think of how aromatic, how sensual, how provocative she smelled. How much her scent alone aroused him, never mind her magnificent, luscious body…
“Stop!” His low hiss echoed around him as he contemplated his strategy for resisting the greatest temptation he’d ever encountered.
Sure, to spare his sanity, he could pull a few tricks from up his sleeve to warn off this unexpected threat. Make the woman forty feet away from him think her newly acquired home was haunted, as many were in Savannah. He could terrify her with his lightning-quick speed and ghastly white, pre-dusk appearance.
A vampire before twilight could scare the shit out of Satan himself.
All of which would send her packing.
The idea had merit. And he gave it serious consideration. Because the dizzying bouquet of her blood and the strong, steady beat of her heart was just about the worst kind of torture he’d ever endured. Only one other thing topped it, actually. But Cane didn’t allow himself to think of the crime he’d committed—the evil he’d created—when he’d turned Amy…
Perhaps the best way to alleviate the new bane of his existence was to leave Savannah himself and return to Europe for a few decades. Put an entire ocean between him and the bewitching aroma of Bevelyn Goitia.
But then the rich, seemingly velvety texture of her scent suddenly intensified, as though he’d conjured it with his thoughts, inflaming his nostrils, tormenting him further as it drew him deeper into a sensual abyss he’d never known existed.
Masochistic as it was, the idea of driving Bev away flew right out of his mind, along with the thought of fleeing to his homeland to escape the wicked web she’d so easily entangled him in.
Cane’s head snapped in the direction of her house, just as the tall, curvaceous redhead who’d unwittingly taunted him the past six days stepped out onto her third-story veranda. The golden glow coming from her bedroom illuminated her features. Not necessary for h
is benefit, for he’d already committed every breathtaking inch of her to memory.
A soft, late-night breeze ruffled her long, loose hair and rippled the swath of black satin that barely constituted a nightgown, making the short hem swirl around her at mid-thigh. Her skin was a warm bronze color. Smooth and flawless.
Coming to an abrupt halt, concealed by the inky darkness, Cane watched her. His eyes drank her in from the tips of her elegant bare feet, up the line of shapely legs that were long enough to wrap tightly around him as he thrust into her, to the soft rounding of her hips, and then the sharp dip of her narrow waist. His gaze rose higher still, to the plump breasts that nearly spilled out of the triangular-shaped, black lace cups covering them.
Couth had never been his strong point. Not that she knew he was staring at her, devouring every inch of her with his supernatural vision. Cane easily blended into the shadows surrounding him as the moon hid behind a patch of thick cumulus clouds and he was as still as the sturdy oak trunks sprouting up around him.
But damn it, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the rounded bronze flesh he suddenly burned to fill his palms with. It was almost sadistic how easily he could envision her in his arms, her head thrown back, her long, graceful throat exposed to him. He fantasized about skimming his hand over the obsidian satin that smoothed across her flat belly, moving upward until his fingers grazed the lace that covered her breasts, the pads of his fingers lightly brushing her warm, supple flesh before he peeled away the black triangles.
He imagined her nipples would be a dark, rosy color, complementing her beautiful skin tone. Small and tight, they’d beckon him to bend his head to her chest and curl his tongue around each pebbled peak, teasing them even tauter. Then his large hand would palm one full breast, his thumb stroking the swollen bud as his mouth continued to pleasure the other nipple. He’d flick his tongue over the delectable offering, then draw the nipple into his mouth, sucking hard enough to make her gasp in erotic bliss—
“Shit,” he groaned. “Human,” he reminded himself, the angst and torment dripping from his dark tone, filling the quiet night that surrounded him.
“Mortal,” he whispered to himself. “She’s mortal!”
Why the hell was he having so much trouble remembering that? Why was it so damned impossible to get this woman out of his mind?
In his two centuries of existence as a vampire, Cane had only been this distracted by a human once. And it’d had nothing to do with lust. Had not been the least bit relative to desire and certainly hadn’t rivaled the all-consuming attraction he felt with Bev.
Though Amy had meant a great deal to him, inevitably, she’d been but a means to recover some of his humanity.
Ironic, really, because in the end, he’d lost touch with himself. Had suffered nearly as much as the girl had.
But Bev was stronger than Amy. He’d sensed her strength and internal power the moment he’d met her.
And damn it, didn’t fire roar through his body at the mere thought of the woman standing just forty feet away from him? Close enough that all he had to do was launch himself from his railing up to hers in one swift, fluid move.
She wouldn’t know what to make of him. But Cane knew exactly what he wanted to do to her…
Another long-suffering groan escaped his parted lips as he turned sharply and stalked back into the house, closing the tall, black-lacquered, double front doors behind him. The seclusion did little to diminish her scent. It was stuck in his nose, taunting him, just as surely as the vision of her in his arms was forever burned on his brain, like an unexpected, unwelcome branding.
He wanted Bev. But to have her would cost him everything he’d worked so hard to recover after Amy. Every ounce of humanity he’d managed to retain even through the change centuries ago. Because he knew his desire for her went far beyond physical need. His passion burned bright, but he also felt innately, wholly connected to the human next door. The sensuous creature who had no idea how much he wanted her. How much he needed her.
His entire being had been infiltrated with lust and longing from the first glimpse he’d stolen of the fiery beauty.
And now there was no escaping what he knew to be a damning truth.
Cane was a doomed soul. Because he’d finally found what he’d been searching for the past two hundred years.
Bevelyn Goitia. A mortal human.
For Cane, she was the one…
Chapter Three
“Bev, you didn’t have to leave in the middle of the fucking night!”
She cringed. “I’m sorry, Cam.” But held her ground. “I needed to make a clean break.”
“I’ve been worried about you all week!”
Contrite, she said, “I meant to call earlier. It’s just been a little…strange…around here.” An understatement considering the six days of overcast skies when the perplexed weathermen still called for sunny days and clear nights. “We both knew this was coming. This wasn’t a surprise to you.”
For the past three months, she’d been telling Camden Shelton she planned to move to Savannah. The only thing holding her back had been sentimentality. She liked Cam. Didn’t love him, but he was a good guy.
“No, of course, I wasn’t surprised,” he said on a heavy breath. “We talked about this. Still.” He paused a moment and she could picture him rubbing the back of his neck, just below his perfectly cropped blonde hair and above the collar of one of his immaculately pressed white dress shirts. “I’d hoped to have more time to talk you into staying in town.”
She smiled despite herself. “That’s very sweet. But when Jenna came back, I knew it was time to move on. You knew it too. And really, Cam, I’m happy for you. She realizes the mistake she made in leaving you and I think, deep down, you’ve always wanted her to come back. She did. That’s a sign you two belong together.”
And a sign that Bev’s decision to move to Savannah was the right one. She’d lived in Albany for nearly ten years. A bit too long for her to stay in one place. Any day now, she’d expected someone to say, “Gee, Bev, you haven’t aged a day since you moved to town.”
Well, duh. Immortal.
She’d known her time in Albany was up and thankfully Jenna Parks had returned. Bev knew Cam had always pined for his high school sweetheart. Jenna was the perfect scapegoat. They could salvage Cam’s ego and sever the ties in one swift, clean drop of the ax.
Except that Bev had slipped out of their lakeside cottage in the middle of the night. Clearly a source of contention.
Wanting to smooth the waters and make sure they were good with each other, she said, “This is all for the best, Cam.”
Because I don’t love you.
And never would.
She’d never love anyone. In fact, just thinking of losing herself to an all-consuming emotion she had no control over made her reach for her glass of Pinot Noir and take a deep sip to calm her instantly riotous nerves.
Love was one indulgence Bev would never allow herself to experience. It was a luxury for humans, not immortals, who would outlive whomever claimed their hearts.
So she kept hers well guarded.
Hence the reason the clouds and the thunder and the now-creeping-toward-her lightning had her in such a state of panic.
She still found it hard to believe her attraction to her sexy neighbor was the catalyst for the odd shift in weather. But every night when she looked at the weather maps displayed on TV that predicted something entirely different from what was experienced the following day, she couldn’t escape the fact that the freak storms just might be her doing.
Returning her attention to Cam, she fought to keep her mind on their conversation. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt him and she was almost sure she hadn’t. Rather, she liked to think that what she’d done was free him.
“Well, I know how much you wanted the job in Savannah,” he said with resignation in his voice. “I certainly can’t bemoan you following your dreams.”
“That’s very considerate and u
nderstanding of you.”
“And I know you never intended anything permanent with me. Marriage and children aren’t on your agenda, are they, Bev?”
She bit back a sigh. Hard to have children when one was immortal and whose “gift” would be revoked if anyone were to discover her secret.
Regardless of that deadly caveat, Bev could not even begin to fathom bringing something she loved with all her heart and soul into the world, only to watch a son or daughter deteriorate day after day until Death inevitably stole them from her. Her immortality was a random bestowment and there was no guarantee her children would inherit her genetic composition. And even if they did, once they discovered her secret… Again, it’d be all over for her.
As for marriage… How the hell would she ever explain to a husband that she didn’t age? Credit Botox, clean living and Pilates?
Of course not. Those excuses would only go so far. The cat would inevitably escape the bag and immortality as she knew it would slip through her fingers, taking with it whatever life she’d built for herself.
She had no choice but to own up to the reality of the situation. “That was never my dream,” she told Cam.
Though “owning up to reality” didn’t necessarily mean there was truth to her statement. Yet reality kept the walls erected around her. Kept her heart intact. Kept her sane—and alive—throughout the centuries. “Really, this all worked out the way it was meant to.”
“Yeah, but… You didn’t have to leave in the middle of the fucking night,” he repeated, but with much less frustration.
Bev smiled. “Actually, I did. I needed to be in the office first thing Monday morning and leaving in the middle of the night was the latest possible time for me to catch a flight and still meet my work commitment.”
Cam was quiet a moment, then said, “So you didn’t sneak off? You wanted every last second you could get.”