Night's Kiss (Children of The Night 1)

He snorted softly, amused by the turn of his thoughts. Falling in love, indeed. Should he be foolish enough to do so, he would only be asking for heartache. Surely no woman in her right mind would knowingly get involved with a vampire.

She entered the room a few minutes later, her footsteps little more than a whisper on the plush carpet, the cat at her heels.

Brenna hesitated when she saw him there, then she sat down on the sofa, her arms folded across her br**sts, her gaze fixed on the television as if she hoped to discover all the unanswered questions of the universe on the screen.

Morgana stared from one to the other, then curled up in front of the fireplace, staring at the two of them through unblinking yellow eyes.

Roshan grinned in wry amusement as the commercial ended and the football game resumed. He watched Brenna for several minutes, aware that his scrutiny was making her increasingly nervous.

"Feel free to change the channel," he said, tossing her the remote.

She rewarded him with a tentative smile, then flipped through the channels until she found a movie. It was one he had seen numerous times, starring Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal.

Brenna settled back on the sofa, her hands clasped in her lap, one leg folded beneath her.

Tension flowed between them.

He pretended to watch the fire.

She pretended to watch the movie.

He swore under his breath.

She fidgeted with a lock of her hair.

When he couldn't stand it any longer, he turned to look at her, admiring the soft curve of her cheek, the way the light from the fire played over her face. He never tired of looking at her. An in-drawn breath carried the scent of lilacs and warm womanly flesh to his nostrils. His hunger quickened, not for her blood, but for the taste of her lips, the touch of her skin beneath his hand.

As though sensing his heated gaze, she turned to face him.

Desire arced between them, sizzling with electricity, like the air before a summer thunderstorm.

Without conscious thought, he was on his feet and moving toward her.

She stared up at him, her eyes wide, her lips slightly parted. He could hear her heart beating wildly in her breast.

"Brenna."

She didn't say anything, only continued to stare at him.

Kneeling before her, he stroked her cheek, reveling in the warmth of her skin beneath his palm. His own skin was always cool to the touch unless he had just fed.

"Kiss me, Brenna," he whispered. "One kiss, to chase away the shadows and keep me warm when I take my rest."

She stared at him, her heart racing, and then she leaned toward him.

His hand slid behind her nape as his mouth covered hers. Her lips were as soft and sweet as he remembered and he knew one kiss wouldn't be enough. Would never be enough.

Taking hold of her waist, he drew her down onto his lap, his mouth never leaving hers. He deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing hers, his preternatural senses filling with her nearness until he could think of nothing else, wanted nothing else. Her body molded to his, her lush curves soft against the hardness of his chest.

He scattered kisses on her eyelids, her cheeks, her brow, then slid to her neck. Unable to resist, he ran his tongue over the skin behind her ear, kissed the hollow of her throat.

The seductive sound of her heartbeat resonated in his ears; the call of her life's blood like a siren's song, overshadowing the ache in his body. His teeth grazed her skin.

With a cry, he quickly turned his head away lest she see his fangs and the hunger that was surely blazing like red death in his eyes.

Moaning softly, she reached for him.

Roshan drew back before she could touch him. Rising, he took a few steps away, careful to keep his back toward her. He knew how he looked, his eyes wild, blazing with the lust for blood. He ran his tongue over his teeth, felt the sharp prick of his fangs. Oh, yes, he knew how he looked— he had seen the face of the vampire before, the night Zerena had seduced him…

He had been on his way home from the local tavern when he realized he was being followed. Glancing over his shoulder, he had seen a woman trailing a few yards behind him. He had never seen her before, was, in fact, certain she was not from this part of the county. Her clothing was too fine, her skin too fair, her face unlined by the worry and hard work that marked the countenance of every other woman he knew.

Wondering who she was, he had focused on the road ahead once again.

And then she had called his name. Startled, he had come to an abrupt halt, surprised to find her standing at his elbow. She had smiled up at him, revealing teeth whiter than any he had ever seen.

"Who are you?" he had asked, embarrassed by the tremor in his voice.

She tilted her head to one side, her deep brown eyes sparkling. "I am the Lady Zerena."

"Why are you following me?"

"Why, indeed?" She ran her fingertips down the length of his arm, her fingers caressing his biceps. And then her gaze trapped his and he was caught, unable to look away, unable to resist the promise he saw in her eyes.

Zerena led him to a small wooden house located far off the main road. From the outside, it looked like a hovel. Inside, it looked like a chamber fit for a queen. A large bed covered with soft furs and silken pillows occupied most of the room. Damask draperies covered the single window. Thick rugs were scattered across the floor.

She gave him a gentle push toward the bed. "Sit." She poured a glass of dark red wine and handed it to him. "Relax," she purred. "I'm not going to hurt you."

He was a big man. He could have crushed her with one hand, yet deep in his gut, he didn't doubt that she was the stronger. The thought sent a chill coursing down his spine.

"Drink," she urged. "It will relax you."

He had lacked the will to refuse. Lifting the glass, he drained the contents.

Still smiling, she took the glass from his hand and tossed it into the fireplace. It shattered against the bricks. Shards of sparkling crystal reflected all the colors of the rainbow before landing in the ashes.

Sitting beside him on the bed, she ran her hand through his hair and down his neck, then slipped her fingers inside his shirt to caress his chest. He shivered at her touch.

She leaned against him, her body bearing him down until he was stretched out on the mattress, her body atop his, her hands boldly exploring his arms, his legs, the width of his shoulders.

When he started to protest, she covered his mouth with her own. At the touch of her lips, all thought fled his mind until he felt her teeth at his throat.

Awareness flooded through him and he opened his eyes to find himself staring up at a monster with blazing red eyes and fangs stained with his blood.