“And you are one of the oldest.”
“I am.”
“And the strongest?”
He ground his teeth and admitted, “Along with my brothers and the Derricksons, yes.”
“And the most resourceful?”
He liked this particular game. “Yes.”
That furrow between her brows grew deeper. “Then why the hell didn’t you realize I’d fallen in love with you, Kenton? Why didn’t you understand that keeping so much from me would ensure we were eventually driven apart?”
Kenton had no answer to her question. Strike that. He had no answer besides the truth.
“Because I’ve never truly been in love before, Alessandra.”
Chapter 23
Oh no, he didn’t.
Kenton had seriously pulled out the nuclear line, one she wouldn’t have believed even if he were human. After so many centuries, he had seriously never, ever loved a woman?
I don’t think so.
“I can see you doubt me,” he said with a little smile, “but you must understand. Loving only means losing to me. And after what happened with Rowan’s mate, I only ever turned humans out of necessity, choosing it over killing innocents unnecessarily.”
She kind of didn’t want to know what he was talking about. But what the hell?
“What do you mean?” she asked, the words spilling out.
“The only way to turn a human into a vampire is by draining their blood to their very last heartbeat of life, and then stopping to apply something called the Nine Herbs Charm. As you can imagine, it took many years for us to discover that fact and many more to actually accomplish it. Even now, there are only a few who have the skill to see it done.”
“The Nine Herbs Charm? What is that?”
“Once, it was an actual charm. But now only the herbs, not the words that accompany them, are needed. Apparently it was a favorite remedy of Lady Isobel’s. When Torr, Lawrence’s brother, nearly accidentally killed a woman he cared for, Lady Isobel administered the charm and poultice on the wound from his bite. Coupled with the near draining, a human will wake after a full day’s slumber a full-fledged vampire. We learned all of this years later, a story for another time.”
“I see. Kind of. So just how many of you are there?”
Kenton licked his lips in thought.
Please don’t do that.
“Hundreds. Thousands. It’s difficult to keep track, but not as many as you’d think after so long. But as I said, it can be . . . tricky.”
She took another long swig and wished the waitress would come back.
“Still. You’re telling me that in all of the years you’ve been alive, you’ve never, ever fallen in love with a woman?”
He didn’t hesitate.
“No. At least, you’ve made me realize the answer is no.”
Jesus Christ.
“Out of fear of getting too close?”
“Yes.”
“Or of having them be killed by a . . . by one of us?”
“Yes.”
If only her brother were here. Having a human lie detector would come in handy.
“Never. Kenton Morley has never, ever been in love?” It was too incredible to fathom.
He stood so quickly, Alessandra only realized his intention when he came to a stop next to her chair. The black of his hoodie made his eyes appear even bluer than usual.
“Once,” he said, spinning her chair toward him. People were likely looking at them now, but Kenton didn’t seem to notice.
Or care.
“Once I fell in love with a woman so beautiful, I could not tear my eyes away from her. She laughed and danced with her friends, life oozing from her as surely as death had settled its cloak over me. And then I kissed her and knew, although I fought it valiantly, nothing would ever be the same for me again. I watched this woman allow herself to come apart in my hands and then, on a most endearing train car, to learn her own strength. She was kind enough to take me along for the ride, and that’s when I knew. I love her and I never want to leave her. The only question is . . . did I tell her too late?”
She couldn’t breathe.
Literally.
He didn’t touch her or even attempt to come any closer. But she could smell him and almost feel him despite the fact that they weren’t touching.
There were so many impediments between them, namely that he still hated what she was. Could two people be together under such circumstances?
“So many things between us—”
He reached for her hand and pulled her to standing.
“Name one.”
With his other hand, Kenton flipped open his wallet, tossed a hundred-dollar bill on the table, and tucked it back into his wickedly hot jeans.
She liked him better this way. And suspected this was how he normally dressed, when he wasn’t trying to pretend he was only a centuries-old vampire, ruthless and cunning.
“You wanted to kill me.”
She let him wind his fingers through hers.
“And likely will again at some point,” he said with a grin.
She laughed, unable to help it. The promise of a future made her stomach flutter. Still, she made herself say, “You lied to me.”
He led her through the growing crowd, gripping her hand as if he’d never let go.
“A mistake I will never, ever repeat.”
They’d walked out into the cooler than usual night.
Kenton stopped, forcing her to do the same.
“I vow,” he said, looking her in the eyes with such intensity it made her want to turn away, “on the honor instilled in me as a young knight . . . I will never lie to you again, Alessandra Fiore.”
She believed him.
Stupidly?
No, with a full awareness of his limitations . . . and hers.
“You hate what I am,” she said, bringing up the most pressing problem.
This time, he was slower to answer.
“And have fallen in love with you despite it,” he answered finally. “The only promise I can make is to keep an open mind. We can figure out the rest together.”
The courthouse came into view, its large clock tower a beacon in the darkness.
“What other objections do you have, love?”
They were walking toward Kenton’s house. Neither spoke as they climbed the stairs to the street above. The Henry Hutton Mansion came into view, candles lighting its windows, a majestic throwback to a different era.
“I worked hard to get this PhD and am excited to teach”—she emphasized the next word—“here.”
Alessandra had fallen in love with Stone Haven and did not want to leave her new home. At least not yet.
“Just think of the lessons I can give you each night when you return home.”
She swallowed.
“I can give you firsthand knowledge of the history you’ll be passing along to those poor, unsuspecting students each day.”
She looked over at him in disbelief.
“What did you think I meant?” Kenton smiled, his teeth as bright white as the pupils of his eyes. Vampire . . . man . . . he was the finest specimen of both. “Saucy minx.”
“You would stay here, in this little town, when you could go anywhere in the world?”
They climbed the stairs on the side of the house that led from the garden to the main floor.
“I’ve lived everywhere. Done it all. And there is not one place I would rather be than here,” he said, his voice firm.
Opening the door, Kenton flicked on a hallway light, its soft glow guiding them deeper into his home.
“Any other objections?”
He led her to another set of stairs, his pace urgent, and it was only when Kenton opened the last door in the second-floor hallway, the door to his bedroom, that Alessandra worked up the gumption to say the one thing that had been on her mind all night.
“Just one.”
Kenton pulled her inside, the only light coming from a single elect
ric candle in the window. Though shrouded in darkness, a line of windows allowed in enough moonlight for her to see a large room, sparsely furnished, with nothing more than a bed, two dressers, and an oversized chair in the corner.
She wanted him, desperately so, but she had to say this first.
“I will age, and you will not.”
He brought his hands to her cheeks.
“And I will love you always.”
He deliberately misunderstood.
“You said once you could not turn me—”
“It has not been done before, to my knowledge. A Cheld—”
“But if I could be turned?”
His thumb ran across her cheek as he held her firmly, irrevocably. For a long moment, he was quiet, considering her request. Then he said, “You know little of my ways yet, Alessandra. What it means to be a vampire in truth.”
“Show me.”
His eyes widened.
“You said a bite did not hurt, that it could be erotic if done here.” She pointed to her neck. “And that it was a sign of deep intimacy.”
She was determined to know Kenton, fully and completely, this night.
“Show me,” she pressed. “Bring me fully into your world.”
She could tell he was torn. But if they were to truly be together, there was no other way.
“Kenton?”
For a moment, she thought he would deny her—the possibility of it could be seen in the play of light and shadow on his starkly handsome face—but then he grabbed her hand and led her toward the massive four-poster bed.
“I will do as you wish, love, tonight and always. If this is a world you wish to be a part of, I will give it to you gladly, if I’m able. An eternity with you would be more than I deserve. And if you are repulsed by—”
“I could never be repulsed by you,” she said, hoping he understood her sincerity.
“Be that as it may, the choice, always, is yours.”
Kenton pulled her toward him and lowered his head to hers.
“I will have you, Alessandra, tonight and every night, for as long as you’ll have me back.”
Their discussion was at an end.
And now she would know, for the first time, the true Kenton Morley.
This time, he would get it right.
He undressed her first with his eyes and then with his hands—slowly, methodically, careful not to touch even an inch of flesh. Kenton would not be undone by the feel of her. When the night was over, Alessandra would know a proper seduction. When she stood in front of him in nothing but a purple lace bra and panties, he reminded himself not to react. Instead, Kenton started to tear off his own clothing, his approach shifting to one of haste, as he tore off the hoodie and T-shirt, then his jeans. He never took his eyes from her. The soft sound of his movements reverberated throughout the old, poorly insulated room. Moonlight streamed in from the front windows, offering plenty of muted light for what was to come.
Relishing in Alessandra’s not-so-subtle perusal of his body, Kenton waited for her to finish. Then, reaching out to the center of her bra, he gripped it with two fingers and pulled her toward him.
“This has to go,” he said, spinning her around.
When he began to unclasp the offending garment, Alessandra said, “I was afraid you’d tear it off, and I’d have no bras left.”
“Once,” he said, tossing the bra aside, “I met a woman so discomfited by undergarments that she prohibited her ladies at court from wearing any.”
He ran a finger from her neck down to her waist, smiling as she shivered.
“Her ladies?”
With both hands, he reached around to cup her breasts. “Catherine de Medici, the wife of a French king.”
Using his thumbs, Kenton silently promised her an evening of slow seduction.
She dropped her head back, encouraging him to continue.
“Were you with her? This queen?”
He smiled at Alessandra’s back, pressing himself against her.
“I was not,” he said, allowing one hand to temporarily pause its ministrations to move her hair aside. Resuming the gentle assault, he pressed his lips against her neck. Though he would not bite her yet, the anticipation of his bite did not seem to unnerve Alessandra. Relaxed, she laid her head on his shoulder and reached back to grasp his upper thighs.
Her hands, like two iron brands, ensured he quickened the pace. Slipping one hand down to her waist, he let it drift downward until he finally found his goal.
“Were you with another queen?”
As he slipped his finger inside, Kenton found it difficult to concentrate. It took a moment for her words to register.
“Another time, another place. Yes.”
He’d told her he’d never lie to her, and he wouldn’t, even if this was not an opportune time to discuss their past sexual partners. Still, he’d said nothing was to be off-limits between them, and this was her choice. Of course, there was one thing they had not yet discussed.
Alessandra knew the one thing he and his brothers had been trying to determine for seven hundred years.
But he knew better than to ask her. And right now, right here, with this woman, he wasn’t sure if he wished to know the truth any longer.
“Was she good?” Alessandra asked, demanding his attention.
“No better than any other,” he said, pressing his palm against her and ensuring it lay just right as he moved. “And certainly not as good as this.”
He brought her to climax. It was a bit sooner than he’d have liked, but Kenton would be happy to spend eternity showing this woman how different she was than the others.
How much he loved her.
When she came back down to earth, her breathing returning to normal, Kenton removed his hand and turned her back toward him.
“I think it’s about time we lose these as well,” he said, grasping her panties with both hands and bending down to remove them. She lifted her feet one by one, assisting his cause. But while he was down here . . .
Kenton placed a soft kiss on her curls and looked up.
“Oh God, no. Not already.”
She would learn not to challenge him. Kenton could never ignore such a statement.
Urging her legs apart, he nuzzled that most intimate part of her, bringing his hands up to assist him. Just a small taste.
Though he’d done it enough to be as skilled as anyone, if not more so, Kenton rarely allowed himself to be in such a vulnerable position with anyone. Certainly not with someone capable of killing him. But as he teased and licked, encouraged by Alessandra’s soft moans, he silently promised to pleasure her this way every single day if she so desired.
He trusted her with his life.
“Holy shit, Kenton!”
His new favorite term, for each time she said it, Alessandra tended to be in the throes of passion. And right now, she didn’t stand a chance.
She screamed out into the night, her hands grasping his head as if daring him to move away.
Kenton wouldn’t dream of it. He wouldn’t relent until she was well and truly pleasured, and the throb beneath his lips and fingers telling him to wait.
He could get used to this.
Standing, he vowed to etch Alessandra’s expression into his permanent memory. Kenton could wait no longer. He pressed her up against the edge of the bed and devoured her lips, tasting and exploring and allowing her to do the same.
Tugging at his underwear, Alessandra managed to get them partway down, and he helped the rest of the way, his erection refusing to be ignored any longer. They lay sideways on the bed, righting themselves not worth the effort. Kenton covered her with his body, reveling in the feel of her against him.
He wanted to make love to her.
He wanted to sink his fangs into her neck.
He wanted to claim her.
Chapter 24
Had she seriously considered letting him go? Just because he’d lied about wanting to kill her?
What a silly th
ing to get upset about.
Alessandra chuckled to herself, not daring to do so aloud lest it interrupt Kenton’s masterful ministrations.
“Why do your lips feel so damn good?” she murmured, unable to refrain from asking.
“Hmmm” was his answer. It hadn’t really been a rhetorical question, but she was just as happy for him to keep proving her point.
When Kenton reached between them and spread her legs, she gladly assisted him. She was more than ready for him. Had been since the moment they stepped into the room. Breathing in his woodsy scent, she attempted to keep her mind in one place—it tended to flit around from the feel of his lips to the intoxicating smell of him to the very recent memory of what he’d done with his hands. And his mouth.
“Oh God,” she murmured when he poised himself just inside her.
Lifting himself up, Kenton looked down at her, and suddenly, she could no longer wait. She wanted him buried deep, giving her all of him—which she would greedily take.
Urging him on with her gaze did not work. It would seem he was determined to talk first.
“Are you sure about this?”
She knew he wasn’t talking about the sex. If he had been, she would have laughed in his face. Alessandra had never been more sure about anything in her life.
“Yes,” she said, without hesitation.
“Are you scared?”
“No.”
And she wasn’t. Not even a little. Was that strange?
“It won’t hurt,” he said, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
“What is it?” That smile . . . he held something back.
“Nothing,” he said. “You’ll see.”
Not waiting for her response, Kenton entered her then, swiftly and completely. She gripped the first thing she could find, a white comforter, modern compared to everything else in this house.
The indelicate hard pumping of sex, without any finesse or other stimulation, had never really appealed to her. It was a prerequisite, of course, and there was nothing wrong with it exactly. But true pleasure came from the small movements, ones she too often had to coach her partners into making.
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