Night's Kiss (Children of The Night 1)

Too late, he had tried to fight her off, but he was no match for her preternatural strength. He cried out, a mingled protest born of fear and outrage as her fangs pierced his throat again. And then, to his amazement, he lost the will to fight. Instead, he was overcome with such a sense of euphoria that he placed his hand at the back of her head, pressing her mouth closer, wanting her to take more, wanting her to take it all.

And she had. His memory of what had followed was hazy. He remembered her voice calling to him, remembered her wrist pressed to his mouth, her voice commanding him to drink before it was too late.

He had been too weak, too weary, to resist the power in her voice. He had closed his mouth over her wrist and drank and drank until she jerked her arm away.

"Sleep now," she had told him, a wicked gleam in her eyes. "Sleep your last night as a man."

He had stared up at her, confused by her words, alarmed by the expression on her face, but before he could demand an explanation, mortal sleep had claimed him for the last time…

"Roshan?"

With a shake of his head, he realized that Brenna had asked him a question.

Taking a deep breath, he stilled the hunger within him, then turned to face her.

"Are you all right?" she asked again. "Have I done something wrong?"

"No."

"Then why…?" A rosy flush colored her cheeks. "Why did you stop?"

"Because I don't want to hurt you."

"Hurt me?" She looked confused for a moment, and then, as comprehension dawned in her eyes, she lifted a hand to her throat.

"Just so," he said, his voice brittle. "The lust for flesh and the lust for blood are closely entwined. I can't always separate one from the other."

Still sitting on the floor, she blinked up at him, her expression thoughtful. "Do you like being a vampire?"

It was a question she had asked before, one he hadn't answered. She had a way of repeating herself until he told her what she wanted to know.

"Like it?" He pondered that for a moment. "I like living," he replied after a time. "I've enjoyed seeing the world change, experiencing the advances in civilization." Although some things, like war and poverty, never changed.

"Is there no cure?"

"None that I've heard of."

"Have you ever looked for one?"

He sat down on the far end of the sofa. "No."

"Why not?"

He grunted softly. "In the beginning, I didn't think of it. All I thought of was satisfying the hunger that possessed my every waking moment. Later, when I had learned to control the craving, I began to appreciate the supernatural powers the Dark Trick had given me. I explored the world, marveling at how very big it was, and how very little I knew. I spent years educating myself, learning all I could of the world and its people."

"It sounds like a very exciting life."

"Yes," he said quietly. "But a very lonely one."

"In all your long life, have you never found a woman who would accept you for what you are?"

"Would you?"

To his amazement, she answered without thought, without doubt. "Yes."

He shook his head. "You don't know what you're saying."

"I want you," she said, surprised by her own boldness. "No mortal man will ever fully accept me for what I am. Even John Linder, who professed to love me above all else, was not comfortable with my magick. But you… " She shrugged, a half-smile playing over her lips. "You understand."

"But you don't."

"What do you mean?"

"You've not seen what I truly am," he said, his voice almost a growl. "You have no idea of what I really am."

"Show me, then."

He lifted one brow. "Are you sure you want to know?"

She swallowed hard, and then nodded. "Show me."

Taking a deep breath, he let the hunger rise within him, felt his fangs lengthen in response to the scent of her blood, knew his eyes had taken on an unholy glow.

He clenched his hands at his sides to keep from reaching for her.

She stared up at him, her expression one of mingled horror and fascination.

"Is this what you wanted to see?" he asked, his voice harsh as he waited for her to run screaming from the room.

"'Tis quite a frightening sight," she admitted, a faint quiver in her voice.

"Then why aren't you afraid?"

"I am not sure."

With an effort, he fought down the beast within him. "You mystify me, Brenna Flanagan." He had seen fear in her eyes many times before with much less reason, and now, when he stood before her, his true self bared to her gaze, she claimed to be unafraid.

" 'Tis hard to be afraid of the man who saved my life, someone who has shown me nothing but kindness. You may appear to be a monster, but I have seen the man beneath."

"I am not a man," he reminded her.

She waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. "You may not think of yourself as a man, but that is what I see when I look at you." Rising, she closed the distance between them. "Will you not kiss me again?"

"You're playing with fire, Brenna Flanagan," he warned. "Fire far more dangerous than the flames you escaped before."

"I am not afraid." Rising on her tiptoes, she wrapped her arms firmly around his neck. "Kiss me, my lord vampire."

How could he refuse? Her lips were warm and pink, her eyes alight with expectation, and her body… he could feel the heat of her br**sts against his chest, the length of her thigh against his own. With a low growl, he slid his arm around her waist, bent his head, and claimed her lips with his.

It was just a kiss, yet fire burned through him, a bright white fire that burned away the everlasting darkness in his soul, made him believe, if only for that moment, that he didn't have to spend the rest of his existence alone.

She was breathless when he released her. He tried to take a step back, but her arms were still around his neck.

"Have you ever been with a man before?" he asked.

"Of course I… " Her voice trailed off, her eyes widening, as she perceived his meaning. "No."

Taking her hands in his, he took a step backward. On some deep inner level, he had known that she was still a maiden, her body untouched, innocent. With a sigh, he brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "I think we'd better stop this, now."

A soft sound of protest rose in her throat as she leaned into him, her body again molding itself to his.