Everlasting Kiss (Everlasting 1)

Feeling light-headed, she hurried out of the room. She remembered where she was now. The vampire's house. She had fainted. She shook her head, disgusted with herself. She had staked a vampire and yet she had fainted dead away when Erik licked his own blood. Where was the sense in that? And where was he? And what had he been doing awake in the middle of the afternoon?

She slowed her steps, suddenly cautious. What time was it? Was he awake? There was no sign of him as she made her way to the front door. Perhaps he had returned to his lair. Grateful for her good luck, she curled her hand around the knob and gave it a twist. And nothing happened. The knob didn't turn. The door didn't open. She tugged on the handle. It didn't budge.

Aware of time passing, she turned on her heel and went looking for another way out. She found a back door in the kitchen but it, too, refused to open. She stared at it in confusion. It wasn't locked. Why couldn't she open the darn thing?

A window, then. She dragged a chair over to the sink, climbed up on the counter, and tried to open the window. Only it refused to cooperate.

Fear clogged her throat. Was she dreaming?

Feeling like Alice lost in Wonderland, she climbed off the counter, picked up the chair, and threw it at the window. The chair bounced off the glass, almost hitting her in the face. But it didn't break the window.

She had to be dreaming.

She was fighting a burgeoning rush of hysteria when she realized she was no longer alone. He was there, behind her. She could feel his presence. Hands clenched at her sides, she slowly turned to face him. "You said you'd let me go if I...I drank your blood."

"All in good time. How do you feel?"

She blinked at him a moment, and then her eyes narrowed with accusation. "You drank my blood, didn't you? Took it while I was unconscious? That's why I feel so funny." Although funny didn't really describe it. She felt...how did she feel? She shook her head. She had never felt this way before, and she didn't like it. Was this how vampires felt after she siphoned their blood?

He shrugged. "You came here to take my blood. You have no right to complain if I take yours." He wondered if she knew there was now an unbreakable bond between them, formed by their exchange of blood. If he let his guard down, she would be able to read his thoughts, just as he could now read hers.

Eyes wide, she lifted a hand to her throat. "Am I...did you...?"

"No." He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "I just took a little taste. You're a very healthy A-negative female, by the way. Maybe a little iron deficient."

She glared at him. "You said I could go. Let me out of here!"

"No."

"Why won't the doors open?"

"Because I don't want them to."

"What does that mean?" she asked, frowning.

"It means I put an enchantment on all the doors and windows. Usually a lock is sufficient to keep unwanted visitors out." He reached into his pocket and withdrew the case that held her lock picks. "Stealing my blood may not be against the law, but I'm pretty sure the cops still frown on breaking and entering."

Her eyes shot sparks at him. "Who are you to talk to me about the law? You're a...a..."

"Monster? Vampire? Warlock?"

"Warlock?" she murmured.

He nodded. "Dark magick. Very dark. My mother was the head of a large coven. A very dark, very nasty coven. I inherited some of her supernatural powers, powers that grew stronger when I was sired."

Daisy shook her head. A vampire that practiced dark magick. Now that was a scary combination. "What do you want with me?" She shivered as images of black-clad crones performing human sacrifice under a full moon flashed through her mind.

"Why were you looking for me?"

"I wasn't. I didn't know you lived here."

"How did you know a vampire lived here?"

Lips pursed, she slipped her hand into the pocket of her jacket.

Erik frowned. While she'd been unconscious, he had relieved her of the small leather case that contained her lock picks, as well as a couple of empty glass vials and a pretty blue bottle of holy water. He had also found what he had thought was a silver compact. He grunted softly, thinking he probably should have taken that, too. Or at least opened it to see what it was. "Give it to me."

"I don't have anything."

He held out his hand and murmured a few words in a language she didn't understand. And the next thing she knew, her compass was in his palm. He opened it, then looked at her. "What does it do?"

She shrugged. "It's a compass."

If it was, it was like none he had ever seen before. "What does it do?" he repeated, his voice tinged with impatience. "You know I can make you tell me."

"It finds vampires."

"Indeed? How does it work?"

"I don't know, it just does."

"Where did you get it?"

"From a witch." A faint smile played over her lips. "A white witch."

"You're a witch?"

"No." She folded her arms under her br**sts. "I wish I was."

"Wouldn't do you any good."

"Why not? Everyone knows good is stronger than evil."

"And I'm evil?"

She shrugged. "You said it."

He grunted softly, and then he frowned. "I never thought of myself as evil."

"Well, you are. Everyone knows vampires are horrible creatures..." Her voice trailed off. What was she saying? She shouldn't be telling him what a monster he was. She should be reminding him that he had once been human, that killing was wrong.

"Go on," he said, a trace of amusement in his tone.

She shook her head.

He folded his arms over his chest. "I'll finish for you. Vampires are horrible creatures. They hide in the shadows. They exist on human blood. They kill indiscriminately. They have no conscience." He took a step toward her. "They prey on the young and the innocent."

"I'm not young!" she said quickly. "Or innocent!"

"No?" He took another step toward her, his eyes narrowing, his nostrils flaring.

He was crowding her, but she refused to back up, refused to let him know how scared she was.

"I'd say you were right around twenty-four years old," he drawled. "And as innocent as the day you were born."

Daisy stared up at him. How could he possibly know that?

"Am I wrong?"

"Yes. I'm thirty-five, and I've slept with dozens of men. Hundreds."

"Liar."

She glared at him. "It doesn't matter what you think. Just let me go."