Everlasting Kiss (Everlasting 1)

And she pleased him.

She slowed her steps as some inner sense of self-preservation warned her not to let him think she was afraid of him. Afraid of him? Where had that thought come from? She wasn't afraid of him. Was she?

In the parking lot, she pulled her keys from her skirt pocket and unlocked her car door, slid behind the wheel, and rolled down the window. "Good night."

"What?" He lifted one brow. "No good-night kiss?"

The prospect of having his mouth on hers sent a frisson of heat straight to the pit of her stomach. Before she could refuse, he leaned down and claimed her lips with his. She had thought his kisses on the beach were the ultimate aphrodisiac, but this kiss was deeper, hotter, more persuasive. It was like Christmas morning and Fourth of July skyrockets all rolled into one. She moaned softly when his hand caressed her nape, then slid up to cup the back of her head as his tongue plundered the depths of her mouth. It made her toes curl inside her shoes.

She felt hot all over when he took his mouth from hers.

"Good night, little flower," he said, his lips curved in a knowing grin. "Sweet dreams."

Sweet dreams, indeed, she thought as she drove home. She could only imagine what kind of dreams his kisses would inspire. Something sexy and X-rated, no doubt. Lordy, the man's kisses should come with warning labels. Just thinking about being alone with him made her skin feel tight and her heart pound with anticipation. Where had he learned to kiss like that? She had been kissed lots of times. It was a pleasurable experience, but no other man had ever made her feel the way Erik did. His kisses urged her to throw caution to the wind and the consequences be damned. She fanned herself with her hand. No doubt about it. Erik Delacourt and his kisses were a volatile combination, dangerous in the extreme.

At home, she took a long, cold shower, brushed her teeth, slipped into her favorite Snoopy sleep shirt, and climbed into bed, only to lie there, wide-awake, her fingertips pressed to her lips.

If she went to the club tomorrow night, would he kiss her like that again?

Would she still be able to deny him what they both wanted if he did?

Chapter 9

Friday morning, Daisy decided she had avoided doing her job long enough. It took considerable effort, but she pushed all thought of Erik Delacourt and his sizzling kisses out of her mind. She ate a quick breakfast, made her bed, and then read her e-mail.

Humming "Someone Like You," she shut down her computer. The morning mail had brought her a dozen new orders. It was time to put her fears behind her and get back on the street. She had bills to pay, after all.

After dressing in a pair of jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt, her favorite jacket with the roomy pockets, and comfortable shoes, she grabbed her handbag, her keys, and her compass and left the house. Surprisingly, she didn't feel the least bit of anxiety at going out on the streets again. She had destroyed a vampire and in so doing, she had proved she could handle herself when the going got tough.

Smiling with new confidence, she slid behind the wheel. She drove with one eye on the road and the other on the needle of the compass, which jumped and quivered when she turned down a cul-de-sac in a very old, very elegant part of town. There were only three houses on the street, each separated from the other by large yards and tall fences. The needle turned red when she neared the house on the left. It was set well back from the street. The windows carried a dark tint, no doubt to block the sun's light. For all that it looked abandoned, the house itself was in good repair. There was no grass in the front yard, only a variety of cactus plants that needed little watering.

If it hadn't been for the blinking red needle on her compass, she would have sworn the house was empty. She wasn't sure why she felt that way, and then grinned. Technically, no one "lived" there, unless the vampire had a human companion. Daisy shook her head. She knew there were people who served the needs of the Undead and counted it a privilege to do so. She had never understood the attraction.

After making sure she had everything she needed, Daisy stepped out of the car and walked up the narrow walkway to the front porch. She rang the doorbell, heard it echo inside the house. When there was no answer, she knocked. And when there was still no answer, she got out her handy-dandy lock pick and went to work.

Minutes later, she stood just inside the doorway, her head cocked as she listened to the house, and heard nothing. A quick glance showed a large living room with a corner fireplace, leather furniture, and mahogany tables. Thick, floor-length drapes kept the sun at bay.

The compass guided her through the living room and down a narrow hallway, which led to a stairway. Moving cautiously, she tiptoed down the stairs, which ended at a large steel door. She assumed the door led down to the cellar. A common vampire resting place. She glanced at the compass in her hand. In the dim light of the stairwell, the needle glowed bright red, assuring her that she was in the right place.

Tucking the compass away, she pulled a syringe from a pocket of her jacket and then regarded the door, wondering if she should have brought her crowbar with her. Only one way to find out.

She was reaching for the handle when the door swung open to reveal a tall man clad in a pair of sweatpants and nothing else. Several candles burned in the room behind him. The light cast dancing shadows on the walls and gilded his thick black hair with silver highlights.

Daisy's heart jumped into her throat, and then plummeted to her toes. "You!"

A slow smile spread over Erik Delacourt's handsome face. "Does this visit mean you've decided to go exploring with me?" he asked, a wicked gleam in his dark eyes.

"Hardly." Vampire. Vampire! The word screamed inside her mind. He was a vampire. Now that she knew, she couldn't believe she hadn't realized it sooner. Lordy, not only was he a vampire, but she had let him kiss her. Not once, but several times. She had even considered going to bed with him. The memory should have disgusted her, but it didn't. Why didn't it? She would have to examine her feelings about that later. Right now, she had to get out of there before he...no! She wouldn't think about that. And yet she couldn't stop herself from imagining him bending over her neck, his fangs at her throat as he drained her dry. Or worse, made her what he was.

"So, you didn't come to go exploring the dark side with me." Erik folded his arms across his chest. "Why are you here?" He glanced at the syringe clutched in her hand. "Don't tell me, you're working for the Red Cross. I didn't know they were going door to door collecting blood these days."

She forced a smile. "Very funny." She took a step backward, wondering what the odds were that she could outrun him.