Descent Into Darkness

Descent Into Darkness Denyse Bridger (c) 2006 ISBN 1-59578-284-2

Descent Into Darkness Denyse Bridger Published 2006 ISBN 1-59578-284-2 Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © 2006, Denyse Bridger. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author. Manufactured in the United States of America Liquid Silver Books http://LSbooks.com Email: [email protected] Editor Vikky Bertling Cover Artist April Martinez This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Dedication For Nancy Baker

PART ONE Prologue September 3rd, 2000 San Francisco, CA, U.S.A. “How old are you?” she purred softly, and snuggled closer to the tall, pale man who shared the huge bed with her. She sighed against his neck when long, sensitive fingers raked through the heavy tangle of her hair and stroked the curve of her jaw. “Why? Do I seem so very old to you?” There was unmistakable laughter in the low, richly textured voice, and he allowed the amusement to reflect in his expression. She pulled back, bracing herself on her elbows, to smile down into the deep, evershifting hazel of his eyes. Her gaze wandered idly, moving over the curving planes of his face, caressing the high cheekbones and the arched eyebrows before dropping to the fullness of his lips. The hint of a smile tilted the corners of his mouth upward, and she laughed. She reached out to touch him, her hand skimming over the fine, flowing dark hair, then dipping to the smooth shoulder she leaned over. She dropped a light kiss on his chest and shook her head in response to his teasing query. “You appear only a few years older than me,” she said. She became more determined to engage his again as she pushed aside the sheets that were gathered around his waist. She slid over him and sat up, her hands playing over the cool contours of his body. “Yet, I know you are ancient.” “And how old are you, cara?” “Tonight should have been my thirty-fifth birthday,” she mused. Her head canted to one side as she stared down into the mesmerizing hazel of his eyes. “Then we should celebrate,” he laughed and pulled her forward until their faces were only inches apart. “I want a present,” she grinned, now eluding his attempt to silence her with a kiss. “And you expect me to grant you this ‘present’?” he speculated. She was lovely, but rapidly becoming a tiresome creature. Like so many others, she’d been ‘adopted’ into his ‘family’ on a whim. He’d found her walking the streets, alone and frightened. Before the night was old, he’d taught her the true meaning of fear. Fear and ecstasy. She’d been addicted to his ‘lessons’ from the first moment. Like another woman he’d known many years in his past. Unfortunately, that was where the resemblance ended he was sad to discover during the weeks after her rebirth as one of his children. “I want to know how you became what you are?” she told him, pulling his attention abruptly back to her. As she watched him, her eyes were very serious, despite the smile that adorned her pretty face. He considered the request for several minutes, wondered how long it had been since he’d given anyone an answer to that enquiry. Many centuries had passed since he’d allowed any of his children to know him as intimately as sharing this piece of his past would imply. Still, under the circumstances, what could it hurt? He nodded and she

curled down into his arms again, her luscious body molding to his as she turned wide, dark eyes to him in anticipation of his words… His mind went spinning back over the centuries the way mortal minds retraced the days of their lives. It had been so long since he’d allowed himself to remember his mortal life. She stirred restlessly, anxious to hear his story, and he smiled. Her present would cost her much more than she anticipated. **** Ur of the Chaldees, as it had eventually become known, was already a flourishing city at the time of his birth. Sited on the bank of the River Euphrates, not far from the Persian Gulf, Ur was ideally located for trade and commerce. He had been a man much noticed even then, although none of the reasons for the notoriety had been particularly pleasant. The city was thriving on the growing industry created by expert craftsmen like Alexander. His father had died years ago, leaving him the business he operated in the active city. Alexander had turned it from a humble, though prosperous, pottery and ceramics shop, to a business of several crafts. His particular gift was the working of metal and precious gems, and his clientele had become the richest and most powerful men and women of the area. Because of the mysterious circumstances of his father’s death, however, most people tended to be suspicious of the tall, imposing figure who strode proudly through the streets. Alexander knew why they stared, and during the painful years of his youth, he had often hid from public scrutiny. He was an oddity among the dark population, with his pale skin, silvery hued hair, and blue-green eyes. One so dramatically different was reason enough for suspicion. Rumors had been the plague that marred his happiness throughout his entire life, and they never ceased. If anything, the absurd and fanciful tales often spread like a poisonous illness—one he had gradually learned to conquer with his only defense, indifference. His children, thankfully, would never know such derision. He’d chosen his mate carefully, and she was a lovely woman, who exemplified the characteristics accepted among the city’s people. Rachel was a shy, unassuming creature, and she had given him two children who adored him as much as he did them. His son, a bright, talented boy of fourteen years, was already showing a proficiency for his father’s craft. His little girl, less than two years old, was a source of constant joy as she grew ever more inquisitive. His family lived in a small home, on the edge of the city. Had he ever suspected the truth of his heritage, he would have destroyed his wife and children long before their lives had been consumed by the nightmare that was to become his existence. **** It had been a particularly bad day, and Alexander was more than ready to escape into sleep at the end of it. Arguments and disgruntled patrons were common, but some days they seemed to come in relentless waves. Today had been such a day. The peace of his home was soothing. Rachel’s gentle warmth a balm to his troubled spirit. When the sun set and the children were sound asleep, they’d gone to their bed. Alexander had fallen into slumber almost immediately. Something startled him from the blissful silence of sleep, and the moment’s

disorientation was quickly replaced by surprise when he felt the soft caress of hands exploring his chest. His wife had never initiated their love-making. She never turned him away when he reached for her at night, but she did not turn to him of her own volition. The satiny stroke of touch was arousing as much for its unexpectedness as its obvious intent. He peered into the darkness, searching for the familiar face he’d grown to love. The depth of the blackness made it impossible to see through the blanket of gloom. Alexander dismissed the curiosity from his mind and settled more comfortably on his back. He reached for the figure next to him and smiled when his hands were caught and guided to soft, full breasts. Strong fingers kneaded firm flesh and the distinct gasp of pleasure his touch elicited encouraged him. He pulled her forward and quickly found the hardened nipple he sought. He sucked gently and closed his teeth over the firm tip. He smiled when his head was drawn away and guided to her other breast. He lavished the same sensual attention on the second ripe nipple, devouring her soft flesh with his mouth. A low moan whispered between them and he let his touch glide over the well known curves of his mate. The lithe, demanding body straddled his hips now and Alexander’s head fell back into the pillow as he fought to bring his breathing back under control. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this intensity of passion, and his head spun with the erotic pleasure. Small, delicate hands wandered over him, the touch like a bow drawn over the taut strings of a lyre. He felt his entire body respond to the music of their shared ardor, and he reached for her again. She slipped out of his grasp before he could hold her, and seconds later a groan of exquisite longing was wrenched from him. The soft warmth of her mouth covered him, the stroke of her tongue a flame that swallowed him. She continued her oral trek over the long length of his body, explored him with the enthusiasm he had often wished she would exhibit. He no longer questioned what had brought about her uncharacteristic behavior. His mind was filled with the sweet sensations he’d never known before. “Rachel…” he breathed as she slowly lowered herself onto him. His hands found curving hips, and held her tightly against him as he began to move. The rhythm they shared was strong and demanding in its desperate need. Alexander sensed in some distant part of his soul that something was terribly wrong. Almost as the twinge of awareness formed, it vanished in a resurgence of ravenous lust. His breaths grew shallow and strained as he felt his body tense. Laughter filled the tiny space of the room and his blood ran cold at the raw hunger he perceived in the sound. Before he could orient to the sudden fear that lanced through him, he spasmed in an agony of pain and writhing ecstasy. Tiny daggers buried in his neck and he tried to pull her away. His hands were instantly pinned to the bed on either side of him. He was shocked at the strength in her grip. For endless minutes he was certain he had fallen into a hellish nightmare. Bile rose in his throat when he heard the low sucking sounds she made and understood she was drinking from the wound in his neck. “Rachel?” The hoarse, fearful gasp earned more laughter, this time the sound was mocking and filled with an enjoyment that was obscene. He tried with renewed urgency to dislodge his wife, certain she had gone quite mad without his notice. One of the hands that held him was withdrawn and a moment later he choked as her bloodied wrist was pressed to his mouth.

“Drink, damn you!” The order was a hiss of unrecognizable sound, and he clamped his lips firmly together. The rejection angered her and the world was immediately dotted with pinpoints of white light when she struck his jaw with a force that opened his mouth with a gasp. Blood flowed and he swallowed convulsively, barely able to breathe against the pressure she exerted. The hand was slowly removed, and he felt dizziness wash over him and leave him weak. He tried to rise, only to find he was immobile. The scratch of a flint being struck made him wince, the sound unnaturally loud to his ears. Seconds later, a small sputter of candlelight illuminated the area surrounding him and his brutal lover. Horror coursed through him as he stared at the smiling face above him. He felt the chill of death steal over him and leave him stunned and unable to speak. This was not possible, some inner voice murmured. Yet, it was. The woman still sitting astride his body, still joined with him, wore the face of someone he had thought dead for almost thirty years. “No,” he shuddered, paralyzed with terror and disbelief. “This cannot be.” “But it is, my Alexander,” she purred sweetly. “I have come back for you. To claim what is mine.” He wanted to deny her. Pain was fading away, being replaced by an iciness that he knew, instinctively, was death reaching out to seize him. The warmth that had consumed his reason was no more. All that remained was loathing, betrayal, and the certain knowledge that he was dying. “We will be together forever,” she assured him with a darkly exotic smile. “There is so much I have to offer you.” “Rachel,” he mouthed the word like a prayer. His beloved wife. How had he not known it was another who shared his bed in her place? “She is gone, Alexander,” she sneered. “You are mine. You have always been mine alone.” The words faded as death quietly slipped over him, and welcomed him into her comfortless embrace. **** “Alexander is your name?” “One of them,” he conceded. The memories were waking old pain, and he was uncertain of whether it was the reopening of the wound that caused his aggravation, or simply her anxiousness to know his secrets. “When were you born?” He laughed, and the sound was cold and mocking. Her ignorance of history was amusing when he considered how insistent she’d been about wanting to live forever. “Many lifetimes ago,” he allowed, then sat up in the bed. He leaned back against the solid oak headboard and the coolness of the wood soothed in an odd sort of way. He thought for a moment, then looked down into her dark, rapt eyes. “I remember when Babylon was a major power in Mesopotamia. I saw the remnants of crumbled cities after Thira erupted and shook the entire Mediterranean world. For a time, I worked with the richest Phoenician merchants when trade began to spread. I advised Ashurnasirpal, King of Assyria. Years later, I witnessed the fall of the Assyrian

empire.” He paused, sifted through memories not quite so ancient. “Many centuries later, I rode with Charlemagne and helped to shape the new empires of Western Europe. I taught Nero the tune he played, and together we watched Rome burn. It was I who taught Genghis Khan the lessons of war.” Minutes later, his voice grew contemplative and tinged with melancholy. “I was in the court of Pontius Pilate when he condemned the man who would become known as the son of God.” He grew brooding and introspective for a long time, until the light touch of her hand on his thigh drew him back to the present. She was awed by the sheer scope of his life, though few of the things he spoke of were recognizable to her. “Did you see Him crucified?” she asked, the words a shaken whisper of fear. He nodded. “I watched as he died, cara.” He closed his eyes and felt the weariness of the millennia close on his heart. There was so much to share, yet no one to ease the ache of his endless loneliness. Not children such as this one, to be sure. He shook off the regrets as futile, pushed them into the corner of his heart that had long been void of things like love and compassion. These were weaknesses he had not possessed for thousands of years. Not since that fateful night when he had awakened to the darkness that was his life. “Who brought you across?” He smiled, and abhorrence distorted the incredible beauty of his features. How could it be that these long centuries later, the merest thought of her could fill him with the rage that had led him onto his path of destruction? Rage, and a betrayal that would remain eternally unbearable. There was so much pain, even now. Would it never end? Bitterness rose within him—he knew it would never end, regardless of the centuries which would pass before him. **** The air felt heavy and oppressive as he fought his way out of the vortex of blackness that had held him so deep in sleep. He could never before recall such effort being required to wake, yet it took all the concentration he could muster to succeed in this simple endeavor. When his eyes opened, he was in darkness. Fear flooded into his mind when he recognized the unfamiliar confines of the room he was in. No candle was lit, no moon glowed through the opened window—but he could see everything as clearly as if the summer sun filled the room with light. Disturbed and increasingly uneasy, Alexander closed his eyes once more. He tried to quell the panic that lurched into his heart when his most recent memories began to surface. Against his will, he felt trembling assail his body, and hatred rose with the image of her face. Before he could grasp the emotion and hold it, he convulsed in a spasm of agonized hunger. It was not like anything he had ever experienced, and it left him gasping and shaking with greater severity. “No,” he whispered to the silent room. Even as the denial escaped his lips, he was not sure what it was he rejected. “So, you have awakened at last.” Her voice was low and seductive, filled with enjoyment of his present anguished state. She laughed and drew nearer to the bed. He watched every graceful step, felt every tiny shift of her body’s motion. His stomach tightened with revulsion when he realized he was becoming aroused by her presence. He tried to back away once she was seated on the bed and her nimble, cool fingers

caressed the softness of his hair. She laughed again when he shook his head. He would have pulled further away from her, but his retreat was prevented by another of the shattering pangs of hunger. “Alexander, I can help you,” she taunted, her mouth curved into a smile that was meant to be compassionate. He saw only macabre lust and a madness that threatened to devour him in its overwhelming power. “Rachel?” he gasped, and turned to see if his lovely wife was somehow still at his side. “I told you she was no longer a part of your life,” she murmured next to his ear. He flinched when she ran her tongue over the curving lobe and nipped at the soft flesh. Reinforced fear gave him strength, and he shoved her away from him with a force that left her sprawled on the floor. Ash blonde hair spilled over her shoulders in tumbled waves, and pale blue eyes stared up at him with enraged surprise. Alexander managed to gain a seat on the edge of the straw mattress and quickly regretted the action. The room went spinning erratically out of focus, and he would have fallen had she not leaned forward and caught him in her arms. “Wait,” she told him, deep satisfaction in her tone. He was not in a position to argue with the order. He said nothing and remained as he was, weaving slightly when the support of her body was withdrawn. Chloe. It could not be her. Yet, it undeniably was the woman he’d long thought dead. Gods! How he had despised her for leaving him. She should have been there, some part of him had always insisted—a shelter for him during the times when his father’s rage would bloom into the terrifying displays of violence that had marred Alexander’s whole life. He would carry the scars of that anger and abuse throughout eternity. For years after her sudden disappearance, he’d blamed her for the things that made his life such a misery. And she had finally come back. He found he now detested her more for this than he had for her initial leaving. A noise at the door drew his gaze and he almost passed into unconsciousness again when the scent caught him and lured him with terrifying promise. “Feed, Alexander. She is willing, and you must survive.” The words were lost inside his mind, faint tremors of sound that held no meaning. The only true awareness was of the steady, throbbing pulse of an impossibly heard heartbeat that was not his own. The hunger surged through him and without thought he obeyed instinct and leapt for the girl. Laughter, dark and tainted with lunacy was the background to his feast. He tore into the dazed girl’s throat, as mindless of the savagery of his assault as he was of the fangs that had emerged at the first frail scent of her. Blood flowed from the ripped flesh and he lapped it up like a starved animal. The essence of the bittersweet wine he drank began to course through his veins, and new strength rose with each drought of the precious fluid he consumed. It went on forever, the euphoric bond of life being taken and absorbed into his body. He felt like he wanted the sensation to continue without end. It wasn’t until there was nothing left that he drew away and fell back against the wall of the room. The soft touch of a hand on his cheek made his eyes open again and he stared into luminous golden blue-green fire as Chloe’s face hovered mere inches from his. “I think you were meant to be this way, Alexander,” she told him with a contented smile.

For the first time since he had awakened, he felt able to think clearly. His gaze darted to the broken body and the taste of blood in his mouth made him retch. He jerked away from her touch and climbed to his feet. “What have you done to me?” He shuddered, and knew the answer before her derisive laughter spewed forth another time. It couldn’t be possible, he told himself in a near desperate litany of denial. It was rumor and myth, told before fires and in taverns, tales designed to frighten the weak of heart and mind. “You shall be my consort, for eternity,” she announced. Her voice was firm with hypnotic domination, compelling in its unshakable assurance. “Think carefully, Alexander,” she advised with a predatory gleam in her eyes. “I could have chosen your son, Julius, he’s almost old enough.” This time it was Alexander who laughed. It took only the space of time that was required to understand her words, but the derangement was total—and irrevocable. He turned to her and felt the change in his appearance. His deep hazel eyes became twin fires of golden fury, the twinge of pain that signaled the reemergence of his fangs went unnoticed. He reached for her, and enjoyed the sudden fear that filled her face. She had misjudged him, and his strength. He cupped her face between his hands, thumbs resting against the smooth jawline. The pressure began slowly, and she tried to push him away. He countered the sudden desperation with his weight and slammed her back against the wall. His fingers continued to squeeze, and he heard the first small crack of bones. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth and he bent to lick at the scarlet stain. As he drew back his strong, powerful hands twisted and her neck broke like a dried twig. He let her body drop to the floor, next to the other corpse that occupied the room. Time was not on his side, he knew. He had to find them. His children and his wife. He stumbled to the door and lurched out into the night, his footsteps guiding him ever closer to the small house that was his home. He walked at a rapid pace, yet he found it no hardship. He was not breathing heavily. The thought had barely formed when he realized he was no longer breathing at all. New pain assailed him and he stopped. He leaned against the stone of a building and covered his face with his hands, despair wracked his body. It was true. He was one of the vile creatures called vampyre. A repulsive thing that walked the earth in the night hours and fed off living beings. His hearing, now as acute as the enhanced vision he had experienced in the witch’s house, picked up the soft footfall of an approaching person. He discerned the irregular breathing pattern, and recognized the drunkard immediately. It was one of the city’s wealthiest patrons, a man who despised Alexander despite his repeated visits to the craftsman. The madness churned again within him and Alexander faded into the shadows. As the nobleman passed, the fledgling vampire reached out and pounced with the speed and ferocity of a striking viper. The second feast of blood left him feeling drunk and giddy. He tossed the body aside, heard the dull thud of the drained corpse hitting stone then sinking to the cobbled street. He stepped from the deepest shadows and stretched in the concealing darkness of the night, vibrant with life and the untapped power of his immortality. He reached his home minutes later and went inside. He could not be sure what

greeting he expected to receive, but the stark, unbridled terror that transformed Rachel’s winsome face turned his happiness to wrath. He had returned for her, in hopes of regaining this part of his life, and she recoiled before him, screaming in horror as she backed away. He’d lost everything, had been betrayed again by the love he so desperately needed. Fury swallowed reason, and he reached for her. He clamped his hands over her arms with a fierceness that made her faint. The lethal rage grew and he shook her. He heard his voice as if from a great distance, the words never quite touching him as he begged and demanded that she speak to him. He didn’t know how long he held her before he became aware of the knowledge that he had killed her. Alexander dropped her as if she had suddenly burst into flame, and he stared down at her broken beauty. Time stood still, and the last remnant of reason was extinguished within his soul. The sound of someone entering the room drew him and he smiled as he turned. His son stood several feet away from him, his face a masque of revulsion and fear when he looked down at his mother. The heavy hammer in his hand seemed forgotten, he was transfixed. Alexander waited. The boy eventually tore his gaze from the body and met his father’s impassive, expectant look. The ice in the hazel eyes was alien, frightening with its lack of human warmth. His father was no longer human. “I will kill you myself for this,” the boy promised with all the intense, burning conviction of youth. “You may try, boy,” Alexander hissed, and allowed his new nature to surface. The decision was made without conscious thought, he would not let her destroy his son, as she had shattered his life. The boy, more man than child now, Alexander noted distantly, cringed before him. When he took a step toward the young man, he saw the weapon being raised. It flew toward him and he deflected the hurled tool without a glance. Alexander reached him just as he tried to flee. Long, tapering fingers grasped the boy’s neck and hauled him back. Still pressed tightly to his father’s body, he never felt the snap of his bones. Nor did he feel his body drained of its lifeblood. Alexander stepped over the body of his son and went into the small room the boy had shared with his sister. He went to the tiny bed and saw she was awake. Deep blue-green eyes, his eyes, looked up at him in wonder. Then she smiled at him and held pudgy arms out to be picked up. He had not intended for her to live. He was unable to deny the sweetness of her innocent trust. Before he could take the child from her bed, he sensed the arrival of another. The chill of death caressed his spine and he turned in the instant before she would have struck. He caught her and hurled her back into the other room, then followed. “You fool!” she snarled. “Do you really think you can escape me?” “Do you think I cannot, Mother,” he returned, devoid of all emotion but loathing. “You have taken my life from me, not once, but twice. This time, it is not I who will pay for your treachery.” “Your ‘father’ was an even bigger fool than you, my dear son. He really believed you were his son. When you were old enough to live alone, I took him, as repayment for what he’d done to you. That was my gift.” She laughed. The sound was an echo of insanity that would haunt Alexander for centuries. “I enjoyed his death, Alexander. He pleaded for his life, vowed that he desired eternity, with me. I had already chosen my

consort.” “Then it is you who is the true fool,” Alexander avowed. Before she could anticipate his intention, he was across the room. Her neck had not yet healed entirely, and she was much weaker than Alexander. He had fed heartily this night, she had not. He pinned her to the floor beneath his weight and the hammer caught his eye. He scooped it up and laughed as he looked down at her, his glowing eyes alight with malicious pleasure. “To eternity, Chloe,” he murmured. He buried the wooden handle in her heart, the force of the thrust reverberated the length of his arm as he hit the stone floor under them. Her death throes were over quickly. He rolled away from her and watched in sickening horror as her body collapsed and turned to dust. “Father?” Alexander turned at the timid, frightened squeak of sound and he held open his arms as his little daughter made her way to him. He held her tightly and she burrowed into his neck, tears streamed down her tiny face. He soothed her with soft words and rose. He left the house and had never looked back. He would protect his daughter and cherish her forever, he decided. **** “What is her name?” “Whose name?” he asked as he shook off the ancient memories. “Your daughter,” she insisted with an impatient toss of her head. “Is she one of us? Do you still keep her safe and protect her?” “Diana needs no one to protect her,” he answered blandly. Especially the true father she does not know she has, he added mentally. He had been very careful to erase that knowledge from her memory, an appallingly easy task, even for one as inexperienced as he had been then. “Diana,” she repeated thoughtfully. “It’s very pretty. And very elegant, as your name is,” she concluded with a grin. “And your name, Camille, is very old. Do you know what it means?” he wondered, only now seeing the irony of it, himself. “Tell me, cara mia,” she requested as she rose and sat astride his thighs. She was leaning into his neck when his laughter woke a warning inside her. “It is from the Etruscan, one of the most ancient languages. Your name means ‘attendant at a sacrifice’,” he told her with mocking amusement. “It is most appropriate, is it not, cara?” She started to pull away, but his hands on her upper arms prevented the escape she suddenly, desperately wanted. One of the talon-like hands glided over her skin and buried in her hair. Terror choked her and she began pounding on his chest in an effort to dislodge him. “Happy Birthday, cara,” Alexander murmured, his rich, silky voice low with provocative warmth. He jerked her head hard and sank his fangs into the soft, exposed skin of her throat. Tender flesh yielded to the razor-edge of his canines, and she whimpered weakly as he drank. She wasn’t quite dead when he released her and climbed out of the bed. Her eyes watched every movement he made, and pleaded silently for help he wouldn’t give. He dressed and sat on the edge of the mattress again. Pale, slender fingers raked through the

heavy fall of her dark hair, and he smiled lazily. “Are you happy with your present, Camille?” he questioned. She said nothing, merely stared. Of course, it wasn’t likely she could speak, he admitted when he noted her ruined throat. “I have enjoyed our time together,” he told her with a smile. “I have even enjoyed sharing this secret with you. It’s been so long since I was able to speak of such distant things.” His tone was polite and conversational, eerily so. “But, such a weapon is a danger to me, cara. Therefore, I must protect myself against possible betrayal. You understand, don’t you?” His laughter filled the room, and the sound was a horrifying mixture of insanity and pleasure. Alexander rose, donned the elegant evening cape he had selected earlier, and bent to place a light kiss on her forehead. Camille stared, her eyes begged for mercy. His cold contempt shattered the last shred of will she possessed. The scritch of a match being struck, then the hiss of noise as it bloomed into flame, were now the only sounds within the room. Alexander dropped the insignificant torch onto the bed and stepped back. He watched the sheets begin to burn as the searing tongues of fire fanned outward and slowly consumed the massive piece of furniture. Camille’s scream echoed in his mind as she died a true death, and he silenced the annoying intrusion with a swiftness that came from vast lifetimes of experience. He walked from the room as the fire intensified, and knew the house itself would be ablaze long before any emergency services would be notified. He stepped out into the balmy night and strolled down the walk. He was tired of San Francisco, he decided as he covered the ground in long, graceful strides. Talking of Diana reminded him of how long it had been since he’d seen her. And, he knew, she would know where to find Julian. His loneliness had made him whimsical this night. Perhaps it was time to reclaim the children who meant most to him? Particularly his most troublesome child. Julian had been allowed to run free for far too long. Alexander now wanted him back. If the young nobleman refused him, Alexander would destroy him—as he had the other son who had forsaken his love so long ago. The ancient vampire felt an unwelcome memory tugging at his heart as he continued to walk. The smell of the fire woke a pain he hadn’t permitted himself to feel for almost two hundred years. He’d lost her to fire and the grief he’d refused to accept still haunted him. His footsteps slowed momentarily, then he pushed away her image with a force of will that had been centuries in the making. Alexander shook his head, pretended he couldn’t recall the soft fragrance of wildflowers and the silken feel of copper hair as it streamed over his naked skin, the gentle smile contained within smoke-grey eyes, and the sensual knowledge of the truest lover he had ever claimed. His beautiful, devoted Amberlaine. Lost to him for nearly three centuries.

Chapter 1 May 10th, 1723 Northern Massachusetts, U.S.A. “We can’t last much longer like this, Alexander!” The ancient vampire turned at the terse words, hazel eyes as cold as ice. His smile, an expression that could transform his classical features into radiant appeal, was as chilling as his gaze when he faced his younger companions. “You’ve made that complaint on a regular basis since our departure, Julian. It’s become almost as tiresome as you, my young friend.” “He’s right though,” a new voice interjected petulantly. “How much longer are we expected to starve ourselves and live like this?” Diana sputtered as she glared at the small, cramped cabin of the ship in which they traveled. “Another day, at most,” Alexander replied casually, his entire manner unaffected by their anger. For centuries they had been his companions and his children, as much a part of him as his own heart. He loved them, and hated them with a ferocity that could be terrifying. Now he simply wanted to be away from them. Before they could launch yet another annoying tirade of dissatisfaction, he quietly left the cabin. The night air was cold and damp, and a heavy mist hung over the black expanse of the ocean. The rolling motion of the ship was growing steadily more restless, and Alexander could smell the storm they were headed into. He wondered, idly, if the vessel could withstand the battering he knew was inevitable. A smile touched austere features. It hardly mattered if the ship’s crew survived, they’d been marked for death from the moment of their departure. But, it could prove inconvenient if they went down too far from landfall. The voyage had taken too long. The crew was suspicious of both their presence, and the illness that had slowly spread among the sea-faring men. Diana and Julian charmed the rough working class hands, Alexander rarely deigned to speak directly to anyone, including the Captain. “I would advise that you go below, sir.” Alexander’s eyebrow rose and he turned just enough to look at the man who had attempted to come upon him in silence. “Captain Marriott,” he inclined his head in a perfunctory bow. “How far out is the storm?” The captain looked startled for a moment. His blunt, weather beaten face was aged beyond his thirty-odd years, and his unruly shock of sun-bleached hair was blowing about his shoulders in the rising wind. His stocky body was braced on the rolling deck with the ease and familiarity of a lifetime of being shipboard. “I expect we’ll be moving into her anytime now, Monsieur DeLenoir. If you and your friends require anything, better get word to the cook. Once we’re in, I’ll be needin’ all hands.” Alexander smiled, the man’s speech patterns were something of a marvel, one minute filled with traces of aristocratic roots, then slipping into the easy Cockney of

London’s working class. “We’ll manage,” Alexander assured over the rising wind. His cloak billowed out behind him as he stepped away from the relative shelter of the side and stood on the open deck. He looked upward to the heavens, judging the rain-laden storm clouds that spread across the sky in a surrealistic landscape of dark shadowy swells. Alexander’s finely honed instinct for survival told him they wouldn’t fare well this night. He inclined his head briefly to the Captain and disappeared in a swirl of cape and mist. Marriott stared at the empty space and shook his head, now uncertain he’d even spoken to his noble passenger. **** “I refuse to leave behind everything I own, Alexander!” Diana raged at him as he stood imperiously at the door. “This ship is doomed, ma petite,” he murmured. “We will feed and flee. The storm will take care of the rest. Now, do as I tell you, my dear Diana.” She stared defiantly at him, but quickly averted her eyes when his brilliant hazel gaze flickered with golden fire. Alexander smiled as he watched her, enjoying the loveliness she unknowingly presented. This exotic and beautiful woman had been many things to him throughout the centuries, and he still marveled at her. Tall, fair, and dark-haired, she was a temptress to lure any man. Smooth, sleek curves were encased in the richness of velvet and silk, and she wore, as she always did, the intricately crafted necklace of platinum and sapphires that had been Alexander’s first gift to her in her immortal life. The piece had been made by him decades before he’d taken her, and he’d waited patiently as he watched her grow to adulthood. She’d loved no other man, until Julian. Julian Marchaund had been a chance encounter in a Paris court, and she’d been enchanted by the handsome musician the instant they’d met. Alexander had been so exasperated by her pleas that he’d agreed to make Julian as they were, and she’d been wedded to the younger vampire in spirit for several centuries. Though, Alexander sensed that was changing after so long a time. “Where is Julian?” he asked quietly, still keeping a close watch on her moods and movements. “Following your orders, no doubt.” This time her voice was subdued and obedient. **** As Alexander had predicted, the storm tossed their ship into the rocks a mile off the northern coast of Massachusetts. There were no survivors. Those that made it to shore were quickly disposed of, and the three travelers moved into the thick growth of forest that lined the untamed beach. “There’s a cave ahead of us,” Julian informed his companions as he darted back to them. He’d scouted the trail before them, in search of just such a shelter. Alexander made no comment, simply followed the younger man as he led them deeper into the woods. The sunrise had begun in earnest, and Alexander hastened his steps unconsciously.

**** “Do you wish to spend another day hiding in caverns, Diana?” Alexander asked on the second night of their arrival. “Of course not,” she snapped furiously. “Nor do I wish to spend my days in some quaint little village inn, which is quite likely no better than our present refuge!” “Diana, please,” Julian whispered as he placed a gentle arm around her shoulders. “He’s right. We can’t continue as we have been.” Alexander ignored them both and let his thoughts reach out through the cool night air. He felt a resonance touch his mind, some intangible note of longing that reached for him; like the soft chords of music played by skilled hands, but this was the music of a searching soul. An innocent. Innocence was the greatest lure for Alexander, an obsessive craving that burned within his ancient heart. An angel called to him, and her desire for dreams woke the hunger inside him. He could feel the ache of awakened lust fan outward to encompass his entire body, and the breathless ecstasy of anticipation created a shudder that shook his tall frame. Without another word, he strode into the darkness, and knew his companions would follow. **** May 15th, 1723 Pirate’s Cove, Massachusetts, U.S.A. Thomas Calvert’s inn, The Guardian, was the best loved place in the small community of Pirate’s Cove. He served the finest ale, employed the prettiest wenches, and was a friend to all who bowed to his domineering personality. His wife, on the other hand, was the source of much ridicule and speculation whispered behind Master Calvert’s back. William Hamilton had discovered the hard way this night that no one in his right mind said a word about the flame-haired beauty who spoke to no one as she went about her business. He’d tried repeatedly to engage the landlady in conversation, with, he silently admitted, less than honorable intentions in mind for the outcome of the night. Calvert had all but run him through for the audacity of his attempt. Thomas had opted, instead, for tossing Hamilton into the rain soaked street, with a loud admonishment not to return any time soon. Defeated and humiliated, Will gathered reins in hand and was about to hoist his aching body into the saddle when his horse began to snort and fidget. The animal’s nervousness was unsettling and he tried to quiet the beast as he peered into the fog. “Who goes there?” he called out, beyond awareness that a thread of fear had come into his voice. The night was not a good omen in its own right. The northern town had been besieged by heavy rains and oppressive mists for much of the past week. The eerie atmosphere had begun to wear upon the nerves of even the most stalwart men. Fog curled around Will’s legs, the cottony tendrils suddenly cloying and lifelike. Hamilton shook off the delusion, muttering to himself about too much ale. Still, he hesitated to move. For several moments, Will continued to stare into the milky mist as he stroked the warm flank of his horse and whispered words meant to

soothe. The animal reared unexpectedly and Will was flung backward. He slammed into the side of the inn and watched in dismay as his horse disappeared into the night. With a groan, he climbed to his feet and was about to venture back into the common room when he spotted a figure emerging from the heavy fog. Transfixed by the beauty of the woman approaching him, Will lost all interest in returning to Calvert’s house. The lady smiled and he felt himself grinning foolishly when she held out a small, gloved hand. Will lurched toward her. She retreated, lilting laughter drifting back to him, and he followed… **** Calvert was just clearing away the last of the debris from the night’s revelers when the door to the inn swung open. A scowl quickly transformed his blunt features into the fierce visage that usually chased away potential customers who troubled him at such late hours. This time, the expression was wasted, however. Three figures came into the common room, two tall men, accompanied by a slender, raven-haired beauty. All three were wearing heavy traveling cloaks, and the two men argued softly. The lady shook her head and frowned impatiently, then decided to greet the innkeeper herself. “We’re closed for the night,” Calvert informed her when she came to the bar. “We have room, Thomas.” He turned at the soft voice of his wife, and his expression grew thunderous when he saw her gaze was fixed on the two men who had yet to approach. The curiosity in her eyes infuriated him. She seldom spoke to anyone, and showed even less concern for the people who frequented the noisy tavern. But, something about these strangers had aroused her interest. Jealous resentment rose like bitter bile in his throat, and his scowl grew when the lady’s gently amused voice interrupted his dark thoughts. “You’re very gracious, Madame,” the stranger said with a tiny smile. Perfect teeth gleamed snowy white between scarlet lips, and the soft French accent earned her a pointed glare from the man behind the bar. “We’re still closed,” he snapped. “It’s late, Thomas,” his wife interrupted again. “I’ll see to their needs. We cannot turn them away on such a night.” Unlike her husband, Mistress Calvert was gently-spoken and courteous. Her entire manner seemed distinctly out of place amid the rough hewn tables and benches, and the smells of alcohol and too many bodies pressed together in the smoky room. The place was all but empty now, yet the air remained thick and heavy with lingering odors and the snores of a few men who were simply too drunk to leave. “Get about your business!” Calvert hissed, furious that she dared to challenge him in front of the newcomers. He took a step toward her and raised his hand. She refused to flinch before his anger, and his glower deepened at the lack of fear she showed him. She was always like this, defiant and righteous in her silent acceptance of his anger. Before he could land the blow he had planned, his wrist was caught in a grip that threatened to crush bones. He turned toward the source of the painful grasp, looked upward, and felt his breath escape in a gasp of fear. Hazel eyes bored into him, ice in their depths. Ice and death. “Surely you can allow your lovely wife to speak as she wishes,” the pale stranger said.

Calvert was released as suddenly as he’d been seized, and he stumbled back, oblivious to the crash of pottery behind him when he hit the edge of a serving table. He turned to his wife and roughly shoved her out of his path as he left her to deal with the strangers. She grabbed the bar to steady herself and closed her eyes for a moment before facing them again. “Thank you, my lord,” she whispered. The cloaked figure took a step closer to her and touched her chin, tilting her face so he could see her clearly. The lamplight was flickering and growing dim, casting shadows over her. For several seconds he stared down into the delicate features, intrigued by the unsullied beauty in her face. She had wide grey eyes, a full, generous mouth, and high, curving cheekbones. A mane of burnt auburn hair streamed over her shoulders and down her back, the makeshift tie meant to keep it gathered at her neck pitifully inadequate to the task. Her clothes were simple, white cotton blouse and plain brown skirt. Her skin was the color of ivory, and she smelled of wildflowers and soap. Even the smoke-laden air seemed unable to touch her with its dirt. “What is your name?” She shivered at the soft, resonant voice, and her eyes remained fixed on the pale face of the stranger. “I am Amberlaine Calvert,” she told him. “The innkeeper’s wife.” “I am Alexander DeLenoir,” he murmured after a lengthy pause. “This is Diana Reneault,” he said, indicating the dark haired woman at his side. “And Julian Marchaund.” Julian stepped forward and took her hand, bringing it to his lips briefly as he smiled. “You’re much too lovely to be buried in a place like this,” he told her. He’d been shocked by her presence, and the near tangible sense of desertion that surrounded the lady. When the innkeeper had raised his hand, Julian had stepped forward. His surprise grew when he’d discovered Alexander had moved quicker. The master vampire never deigned to interfere in human squabbles—yet, he had defended this woman. An act totally out of character. Unless, of course, Alexander already had plans for the man and his wife. Amberlaine smiled at the compliment and the courtly manners. To their surprise, she accepted Julian’s words and bowed her head. “Thank you, my lord. I apologize for my husband’s ill manner. The day has been very long.” It was a weak excuse, but she had no real interest in sparing her husband embarrassment. “Julian is right. You don’t belong here,” Alexander observed quietly. Not only was she beautiful, she had a grace that was alien to everything he’d seen of the town in the short time they’d been in the area. He sensed spirit and intelligence in Amberlaine. The warmth in Alexander’s voice had apparently set off alarms within Julian, and he glanced at Diana. She’d been watching closely too, and it was clear she shared his worry about Alexander’s uncharacteristic gallantry. They’d argued at length, and heatedly, about the idea of taking refuge at an inn, but Alexander would not be swayed from his latest whim. He was a man determined to walk the path he’d chosen, whether it made sense or not. Diana knew well that intentness of personality, she had seen it lead them into many situations which would have been better avoided. The shadow of gloom that had been building around them was suddenly a thing she could sense enveloping them as

they stood in The Guardian’s common room. The disaster was within this place, waiting for them. She shrugged off the dark musings, tried to deeply bury the premonition, where it could not reach her. “It’s very late, Alexander,” Diana reminded with a tiny smile at Amberlaine. The other woman was staring openly at the vampire, who was returning her look with equal interest. He glanced at Diana, then Julian, and nodded. “I believe you said there was a room available,” he stated softly, his tone pitched to a seductive low. Amberlaine nodded shyly and quickly averted her gaze, breaking the spell-like trance that had held them. “There are two on the west side of the house,” she told him. “Amberlaine?” Alexander watched as the sound of his voice affected her like a caress, his expression faintly amused. “Do you require anything else?” she asked, no longer able to meet his direct gaze. “I can prepare a meal if you…” “Nothing,” Alexander assured her. He reached for her arm and her head rose without thought to allow his eyes to snare hers once again. “All we will need is privacy. The room must be secure, and dark. We’ve been traveling for several days and this is our first chance to rest. Do you understand?” Amberlaine felt the pull of his mind, demanding obedience. It made no sense. Yet, she could feel his will over-riding whatever answer she might have been attempting to offer. She nodded, unable to do more, then led them up the stairs. **** “You’re out of your mind, Alexander!” Julian hissed once they were alone. “This is insanity.” “Would you rather sleep in the cave we were forced into this morning?” Alexander enquired blandly. He looked around the room, and his face grew thoughtful. Blankets had been placed at the windows, and the door was barred. In the next room, he was certain Diana had done the same. “Leave her alone, Alexander. Diana’s foolishness earlier may yet reveal us to these people.” “She’s different,” Alexander smiled. “You’ve noticed it yourself.” “She’s where she should be,” Julian replied, though as he spoke he recognized the lack of conviction he felt in the assertion. “No,” Alexander shook his head. “But, perhaps she will be.” Julian bit back the retort that sprang to his lips. He knew better than to waste time arguing with Alexander. Plus, he wasn’t entirely sure the interest in the landlord’s wife wasn’t simply another way to incite his own temper. Deciding not to say anything further, Julian went to his bed and settled in. He felt Alexander’s gaze upon him for a very long time, knew he was still being watched when sleep finally overcame him. **** “Where have you been?” Amberlaine felt hatred spring into her throat like a vile tasting ale, and she gritted her

teeth. “I’ve been attending to our new guests,” she said quietly. “Aye,” Thomas leered. “Fancy folks like yourself. Maybe if you attend that arrogant bastard real good, he’ll take you away from all this,” he laughed. Amberlaine heard the familiar slur to her husband’s words, and she knew his mood would grow considerably worse before he was through his tirade of insults. She thought about the newcomers, the flicker of longing almost a surprise to her own heart. The men were so handsome, and the lady so lovely. They were, each of them, incredibly beautiful. Like the people she used to know, before her father’s disgrace had led to his suicide, and her exile. Her wandering thoughts had made her slow, and she yelped in dismayed surprise when Thomas grabbed her and pulled her close to him. He reeked of ale and sweat, and the filth he refused to wash himself free of, despite her repeated requests. She tried to push him away, but he’d gotten a strong grip on her this time. “Well, my lady, tonight you can attend to me,” he snarled. She squirmed in his rough grasp, and Calvert clutched her tighter against him. He’d often seen this loathing in her, but tonight it enraged him more than it had for a very long time. He’d seen the look in her eyes when the pale stranger had saved her from the blow she deserved for her defiance. And, it made him furious. “Let go of me, Thomas!” she hissed, more in anger than fear. When he ignored her words and buried his face in her neck, his mouth hot and rough on her skin, Amberlaine’s stomach roiled with revulsion. She pushed at him with renewed determination, desperate to escape him on this particular night. She’d endured his gross violations for most of the past year, and normally she could shut herself away from the humiliation and degradation she felt when he’d force himself on her. She remembered the smiling faces of the strangers, and the respect they’d shown her. It made her husband’s disregard even more insulting than usual. “You’ll shut-up, Amberlaine, and be pleased I don’t throw you out for defying me,” Thomas snarled, his voice thick with growing excitement and drunkenness. He was pulling at her clothes, eager to touch his wife’s beauty. Despite his contempt, he wanted her with a depravity that sickened him when he was sober. He’d lusted after this lovely woman for years, never dreaming he’d possess her one day. Her disdain of him only added to his obsessive hunger for her. A final yank and he had the strings of her bodice pulled loose, he shoved aside the material so he could fondle the silken softness of her breasts. “God! No!” Amberlaine whispered to herself as she tried to break the hold Thomas had on her. He was being more persistent than usual tonight, and she knew if she continued to fight, she’d pay dearly for the mistake. Somehow, the pain seemed preferable to allowing him to satisfy his lust. She brought her knee up sharply, connected solidly with his groin, and felt the shudder of pain that wracked his body before he staggered back in shock. Fury distorted his features and he was on her again before she could make it to the door. The world spun away in a swirling void of star-dotted blackness when Amberlaine was thrown into the heavy wooden door of their bedchamber. She tried to avoid colliding with the door, and as her head turned, she took the force of the impact on her right temple. The air rushed from her body in a single expulsion of breath, and she began to slide down to the floor. Before unconsciousness could offer her a sanctuary, Calvert

grabbed her elbow and hauled her back to her feet. He landed several back-handed blows to her face before he dragged her to the bed and flung her down. Blood trickled down her throat, making her gag and she tried to rise again. The motion made her entire body scream objection and she fell back, unable to fight any longer. His weight covered her, his skin hot and rough against hers, his hands groping until he had pushed aside her clothing. When he had removed the last fragile barrier, he plundered her body without hesitation. She closed her eyes and her agony shrieked in endless wails within her head. Rage, humiliation and pain mixed together and became an acrid knot of hatred buried deep inside her. The sound of Calvert’s grunting dimmed and she passed out as he went on raping her, oblivious to the fact that she no longer moved beneath him. **** As dawn drew closer, in the upstairs chambers of the West side of the inn, Alexander heard her screams as acutely as if they’d been echoing aloud throughout the large house. It was difficult to say which annoyed him more, her intrusion into his sleep, or the reason for her cries. He rose from the bed and was surprised when Julian spoke from the other side of the room. “You should have killed him,” the young noble remarked, his voice tight with barely contained fury. Alexander’s eyebrow rose at the surprising words. Julian was usually the first one to object to killing anyone. What had this charming wench done to bewitch them both with so little effort? “I’m surprised, Julian,” Alexander murmured. “This disregard for human life is not at all like you.” The older vampire couldn’t resist the ironic amusement he felt at the other man’s anger. After more than a millennia, Julian still held tightly to the ideals that had dictated the course of his life when he’d been mortal. “Nor is defending a lady’s honor like you,” Julian pointed out, his tone easily matched Alexander’s. “It seems this wench has something of a magic even we are not immune to,” Alexander laughed. “Julian is right,” Diana’s voice reached them seconds before she stepped into the shadowy room. “About what, dear Diana?” Alexander responded. “What kind of game are you playing at, Alexander?” she demanded. “First you insist that we must stay in this… this place,” she finished with a disdainful toss of her head. “Then you draw attention to us by interfering…” “Be very careful of your words,” Alexander warned softly, his hazel eyes like ice crystals glowing in the darkened chamber. Diana dismissed whatever she had been planning to add, then glared at the older vampire. “You succeeded only in making her life more miserable!” she snapped. “Angering that pig has caused her pain.” “So, you feel it, too,” Alexander mused, intrigued by the revelation. “It is impossible not to hear her screaming, chéri,” Diana pointed out with a wave of her hand. “We are the only ones able to hear her, Diana,” Julian interjected softly.

That news clearly came as a surprise to the sable haired vampire and she turned incredulous eyes to Alexander. “How can this be?” she questioned, her voice tight with suspicion. Alexander shrugged carelessly. “I would guess she has latent psychic talents,” he theorized. “Or, we have all fallen under the spell of a witch,” he finished with a laugh that made Julian smile in spite of himself, while Diana scowled at them both. Sobering quickly, Julian rose and took a step toward the door. Alexander immediately recognized his intent and blocked his passage. “This is not our business, Julian,” he warned softly. “Diana’s right, Alexander,” Julian retorted savagely, and allowed his anger to surface to his eyes. “We are responsible for what she is suffering.” “Perhaps tonight,” Alexander conceded. “But, I would venture to say she has been in this situation many times.” “You appeared more concerned a short time ago,” Julian hissed as he jerked his arm free of the light restraint of his master’s grasp. “Of course, as an active practitioner, you condone rape, don’t you, Alexander?” “We all have lapses, dear boy,” the older vampire commented dryly, ignoring the second portion of the statement. When Julian would have left them, Alexander’s hand on the door prevented his departure. “The sun is rising, Julian. She is silent now. What, precisely, do you think you will be able to do for the fair lady?” Diana made an impatient gesture and pushed them both aside. She slammed the door solidly behind her and left them locked in a battle of wills. The winner of that archaic game was a foregone conclusion, and she sighed heavily as she bolted her door and went to bed. Julian would remain with Alexander, if for no other reason than to watch the ancient vampire. He’d return to her at sunset, she knew. He always did.

Chapter 2 The following evening offered Julian his first look at the landlord’s wife since their arrival. She wore her hair loose as she worked in silence, the long, coppery tresses fell over her face like a curtain she could hide behind. Her clothes, like the night before, were simple and unadorned. When she stopped at his table, he reached out to take her wrist in a gentle grasp. He heard the sharp intake of her breath as she prepared to object, then it mutated into a stifled sob. “Please, Mistress…” “Amberlaine,” she interrupted sharply. “I am simply Amberlaine, my lord.” “And I am Julian,” he told her with a gentle smile. “Will you sit with me?” he asked when she remained motionless, and didn’t look at him. Finally, she looked up from the floor and met his steady stare. Instead of the smug, knowing leers she had been subjected to all day, she encountered only compassion and sorrow in the blond man’s soft blue eyes. Julian was as breathtaking as his friends, some part of her mind noted. He was taller than most men she knew, his fair hair the color of spun gold, and his wide eyes the dazzling blue of summer skies. He was dressed in richly appointed velvet, and the ring that shone from his left hand spoke of incredible wealth. Set within heavy, gleaming gold was a stone of blood red brilliance. Yet it was the lack of disdain that made him regal, not his attire, and somehow, his kindness was more painful than the boorishness of the other men. “I am flattered that you wish my company, my lord,” she whispered shakily through a blur of tears. “But it would be wiser for…” “Amberlaine!” She actually winced at the sound of her husband’s shout, and Julian felt his rage spark to life. When he would have risen, she shook her head. “Please, it will only cause you harm.” Calvert left the bar and started toward his wife, his features slipping easily into a scowl of fury. “You’ll listen to me when I speak, bitch, or I’ll…” “You will leave the lady as she is,” a chilling, dangerously quiet voice advised. “Now, and in future.” Calvert stumbled to a halt and stared up at the pale stranger who stood a few feet away from him at the foot of the stairs. His wife’s new guest, for that is how Thomas thought of the unwanted intruders, stirred dread inside him. That feeling intensified as he took stock of this particular stranger. DeLenoir was over six feet tall, had flowing dark hair that appeared tinted with silver, despite its smooth even color, and his eyes, hazel in hue, shifted as rapidly as the moods Calvert had witnessed during the short time the small company had been guests at the inn. As the aristocratic figure dismissed him without a second thought, the sounds of the common room made the innkeeper foolhardy, and he ignored the vampire’s warning. Irritated, Alexander allowed the man to turn his back, then fell into step behind him. Calvert reached the table just as Amberlaine backed away, her expression filled with misery. She was shaking her head when he made a grab for her, and Alexander’s hand clamped down on the innkeeper’s shoulder. Thom’s face went ashen with the shock of

the pain that emanated from his trapped shoulder and continued down his right arm. He turned to look at Alexander, watery brown eyes widened with sincere terror. Around him, the roar of many voices was becoming hushed as the entire gathering began to notice the drama unfolding in the corner. Alexander released the unfortunate man just short of breaking bones, and Calvert stared at him. The vampire reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold coin. He tossed it at the innkeeper, who was unable to move. It tinkled softly as it came to rest at his feet. “My companion wishes to speak with your wife,” Alexander said quietly. “Nothing more. Perhaps one of the other ‘ladies’ will attend to her duties for the additional payment.” Conscious of the stares and whispers of his patrons, Calvert wanted nothing more than to toss this arrogant bastard out into the street. The fact that he could no longer lift his right arm was sufficient reminder of how unsuccessful that course of action would be. He glowered at his wife for another moment, but the wretched whore wasn’t looking at him, she was staring up at the stranger who had intervened on her behalf for the second time in less than a day. Choking back his rage, Thomas bent to retrieve the gold, then walked away. Calvert’s brooding gaze strayed often throughout the evening. Each time he regarded the three figures at the dark corner table, his anger rose again and he began to plot the vengeance he would inflict on her once they were alone. **** “You should not have placed yourself in danger for me,” Amberlaine whispered, afraid now to look at Alexander as she spoke to him. In spite of herself, Alexander’s laughter, low and warm, pulled her startled gaze back to him. Deep grey eyes seemed to implore understanding, and he took her hand and held a chair for her to be seated. “I assure you, my pet, your husband presents no danger to me,” he said, and took a seat opposite her. Julian was watching the vampire, his suspicions becoming more certain when Alexander continued to hold Amberlaine’s awed stare. “How long have you lived in this place, Amberlaine?” Alexander asked, as he casually leaned back in his seat. She started to bow her head, to hide the shame she felt at her appearance. “Look at me, Amberlaine!” Alexander ordered sharply. When she flinched, but did as he directed, he softened his expression. “You will never again bow your head to these animals,” he told her, sensing the fierce pride that had once been part of her nature. He intended for her to find that small piece of herself again. If nothing else, he would force her to be the strong, self-willed creature he knew she’d once been. Alexander had no illusions about what a vixen this one might be, in the right hands. He simply hadn’t yet decided if his would be the hands she’d fall into. A glance at Julian told him the young nobleman was also drawn to the lady, perhaps more than Alexander himself. “Why does it matter to you?” she questioned, though the glimmer of anger he’d deliberately ignited had taken most of the quiver from her voice. “You will leave here, my lord. It is I who must live with the swine who infest this inn each night.” Alexander’s smile was approving, and his eyebrow rose in amused interest when she tossed her hair back and straightened in her chair. Her spine was rigid, and her chin rose

with what he felt was instinctive dignity. The grey eyes that regarded him were guarded, but unmistakably curious. “You were not born to this life, Amberlaine,” Julian surmised. “How do you come to be married to an innkeeper?” “My father was once a wealthy man,” she began after several deep breaths. For some reason, she felt compelled to tell them the truth that she’d hidden from all who’d come to know her in this new life. “He married a woman his family did not approve of, and we came to the colonies to escape their wrath. My mother died many years ago. Two years past, my father took his own life. I was told then that we had nothing. His family refused to acknowledge me. They certainly felt no need to help me. I came to work here, when there was no other way to live. Thomas made it clear that I would marry him, or be cast out into the street. He is a harsh man, and these fools fear him. I had nothing. Including a choice about my life.” “I’m surprised you haven’t simply killed him,” Alexander noted, his tone bored. “It has often crossed my mind,” she remarked with cool irony. The sound of Alexander’s delighted laughter filled her senses and heat blossomed and spread quickly throughout her body. “Have you no means of escaping him?” Julian asked. Despite the detachment she’d spoken with, he’d felt the depth of pain that laced her words. She had spent most of the past two years in terror, and was truly afraid that it would only become worse now that they had interfered. “I married him,” she replied bitterly. “I belong to him.” Alexander shook his head, the gesture unconscious, and his ironic look moved to Calvert. The innkeeper was watching them and talking to several local drunkards. They were, Alexander knew, planning an attack. “Julian,” Alexander turned to the former nobleman and his expression was serious. “I believe we have business to take care of before we leave Pirate’s Cove.” The younger vampire’s eyes narrowed slightly, then he too caught sight of the men lounging at the bar. Before he could offer Alexander a response, the group’s attention was diverted by Diana’s flamboyant entrance. Dressed in scarlet and white, trimmed with midnight blue, the stunning woman had the eyes of every man present. “She is your wife, Julian?” Amberlaine wondered, her voice low. Julian laughed quietly and nodded. “In a fashion,” he conceded softly. The flicker of disappointment he saw come into her eyes confused him—then her look darted to Alexander. “Diana is my… sister,” Alexander murmured, the pause barely noticeable as he chose the lie. She blushed and turned to look at the dark haired lady who was the center of attention near the long wooden bar. “She is very beautiful,” Amberlaine whispered, her tone sincerely appreciative of the other woman’s loveliness. “You must protect her from them, Monsieur DeLenoir. Thomas will think nothing of encouraging them to…” “Diana is very capable of taking care of herself, Amberlaine,” Alexander assured her. “But, if it will make you rest easier, we will put an end to this.” Julian rose and followed the master vampire across the crowded room. From her vantage point, Amberlaine felt a shudder of pure, icy dread when she witnessed the pleasant smile on Diana’s delicate features. The pretty woman was

enjoying herself. After speaking to her, the three strangers left the inn. Amberlaine felt her heart breaking at the realization that they would probably not return. They had carried very little with them, and Amberlaine wasn’t certain they had not already instructed the stable hands to ready their newly purchased horses for travel. The noises and smells of the inn were like a suffocating blanket closing over her, and she rose, blinded by sudden tears. Before she could be spotted by Thomas, she slipped from the tavern and headed out into the cool night. **** “I was just beginning to enjoy myself, Alexander!” Diana snapped coldly. Alexander laughed and nodded. “Planning a feast, were you?” Diana considered the idea as if it never occurred to her, then flashed him a smile that was filled with macabre mischief. “They were making it so very easy, chéri.” “Then we should not disappoint them,” the older vampire replied with a smile that revealed gleaming white fangs. “Let the hunt begin,” he decided. Julian felt a shudder of revulsion gather near the base of his spine, but it was quickly being submerged by an escalating thrill of excitement. He hated himself for the deaths he caused, yet the hunger was a stronger force than any guilt. Alexander never lost an opportunity to remind him of that base reality. Hunger gnawed at his insides, and Julian shut away his conscience as he slipped into the night behind the ancient vampire. Diana lingered near the door, making herself the bait for their unsuspecting victims. She called after them and in a loud, theatrical voice she informed them that she would remain precisely where she was, and they could continue without her. “She’s enjoying this,” Alexander remarked dryly. Julian glanced at the other man and commented that she was not alone in her enjoyment. Alexander’s low laughter was chilling. “They’re all such fools, these mortals.” “Including the landlord’s wife?” Julian wondered. Alexander didn’t answer him, his smile was filled with satisfaction as Diana strolled toward them, beaming up at her companion. **** The night air was chilly, but for the first time in a week, it was clear. Amberlaine gazed upward at the glitter of frost-white stars that dotted the vast blackness of the sky. There was a stillness to the night that felt vaguely disturbing, but she dismissed it as her own miserable state of mind. She often walked the paths behind the huge, sprawling inn, and had found a lovely, secluded cove less than a mile from her home. She escaped to the sanctuary every chance she could risk. It had been almost two weeks since she’d last ventured to the hidden place. She threaded her way through the tangle of wooded growth, her eyes easily picking out the path even within the heavy darkness. The glow of a nearly full moon lit the way with tiny shafts of silver light that filtered through the boughs of the trees. She found the spot she sought a short while later, and smiled with genuine freedom for the first time that day. Amberlaine went to the edge of the water and sat, the mossy bank soft and

comfortingly warm beneath her. She trailed her hand through the still waters, smiled at the silken feel of the clear water flowing through her fingers. Moonlight shimmered white radiance off the surface of the lake, and she gave in to the impulse that had brought her here. Standing, she stripped off her clothes and waded into the pool. The water welcomed her, enfolding her as the arms of a lover would, and Amberlaine finally permitted herself to cry. **** Diana continued to lead her unsuspecting victim toward the stand of trees near the back of the inn. She could feel Alexander’s presence, his nearness an undeniable force. Less intense, but somehow brighter, was Julian. They couldn’t risk a string of bodies, so they had chosen this form of hunting for the short time they would be in the small village. Diana knew the men she traveled with hated the method, but it was safe—for the moment. Charles Peabody appeared to be too busy congratulating himself on his good luck to notice that Diana was more interested in her surroundings than him. “Your friend will not be happy that you’ve come with me,” she ventured, curious about his response to the evocative statement. “Thomas be damned!” Charles said with a smug grin. “Let him punish his slut of a wife in whatever way he chooses. We have our own pleasures to consider,” he added, and the words seemed to make him bold. He stopped their trek into the heavier growth of trees. “Just a little further, chéri,” Diana purred sweetly. “You do not expect me to enjoy our tryst so close to possible discovery?” “If your companions return, Thom will deal with them,” Charles boasted, and tried to catch her in a kiss that would silence the talk. He was more interested in engaging this little minx in other activities. “My… brother will not like it if he finds us,” Diana teased, thoroughly enjoying that particular lie. The idea of Alexander defending her honor was vastly more amusing than this poor fool could ever imagine. Still, she didn’t object too strenuously when Charles pulled her tightly to him and claimed her mouth in a kiss that lacked any seductive lure at all. Diana snuggled closer to her victim and laughed softly when he moaned his pleasure and his hips moved against hers. She nuzzled his neck and nipped lightly at the sunweathered skin. Blood teased her senses and she shuddered with passion her partner couldn’t begin to comprehend. Sharp, gleaming fangs emerged and Charles cried out in sudden pain and surprise when Diana’s mouth closed on his neck. He tried to push her away, only to find his wrists were now firmly held by one of the men who had accompanied her to the inn. Terror seized him and he struggled more earnestly in the hideous embrace. He could hear the soft, sucking sounds of her feeding, and his horror rose as Julian stepped into a pale sliver of moonlight and smiled. As the world spun away from him, Charles felt the grasp on him change. Julian’ fangs tore the hapless man’s throat with a savagery that made Diana grin. As he drank, Diana’s head tilted back and laughter bubbled from her bloodstained lips. The body of Charles Peabody fell to the soft, mossy ground long minutes later, a barely

audible sigh of air escaping him as he died. **** A short distance away, Alexander fed a different need—one he had not felt for centuries. He remained hidden in the shadow of gently swaying trees, and his smile grew as he watched Amberlaine Calvert’s sylph-like body glide through the moonlight-tinted waters of her private bath. Auburn hair streamed out behind her and she closed her eyes as the warm water caressed her. Alexander heard the lingering roughness of tears that made her breaths uneven and erratic. Pain emanated from the beautiful woman, pain and deeply repressed desires. The vampire felt his children feed, was aware of the twitch of hunger that rose from deep within him, but he was reluctant to rejoin them. She stood and Alexander watched her walk from the small lake. Droplets of crystalline water trickled off her pale curves and he was surprised to note the purely sexual craving that woke inside him. Firm breasts strained against the lightweight fabric of her shift as she tugged it on, and Alexander resisted a laugh when he acknowledged his desire to suckle and caress those soft, tempting swells. How long had it been since he’d lusted for a mortal? His beautiful witch had enchanted him—the thought was met by a small self-mocking smile; he already thought of her as his prize. Her head came up sharply and he was momentarily disconcerted by the piercing gaze that was cast in his direction. Fear drifted to him and he turned away, mentally searching as she quickly gathered her things and dressed. Her panic became more tangible with each moment. Then she was gone from the haven he’d discovered was her refuge. Annoyed, Alexander extinguished the throb of desire she’d created in him and reached further outward with his thoughts. He sensed the stalking wolf that had alarmed her, and quickly dispatched the unfortunate animal with a mental command that made it yelp in pain before bolting away. He went to find Diana and Julian. As he walked, he sensed Amberlaine’s thoughts and presence as if she walked within him. He felt her shiver with the after-chill of her bath, as well as her growing awareness of the unnatural silence that permeated the forest in the wake of the vampires passing. She’d been frightened away from her sanctuary by something she didn’t understand, and it was taking her some time to curb the sense of panic. Because of her distraction, she’d taken a wrong turn on the path and now ended up walking an extra half mile back to the inn. Alexander heard the whisper of her thoughts as she consider that the added distance was not entirely unwelcome, it was simply more time to be spent in freedom. More time to miss the three people who had so unexpectedly reminded her of a different life, and all that she had been forced to give up. Three people? A voice inside her head repeated in self-mockery. She would miss him. The tall, dark-haired stranger with the piercing eyes and the voice that touched her like rich, flowing silk. She would long for Alexander for the rest of her life. Satisfied by what he’d learned through her wayward thoughts, he mentally severed the bond between them for the moment as he neared his companions. They had taken only a few steps from the corpse when Alexander’s head snapped up in sudden alertness. He glanced back and Julian nodded, then melted into the shadows. Diana had already silently disappeared. Amberlaine’s mental wanderings came to an abrupt halt moments later when she

encountered an obstacle she hadn’t noticed on the trail. She stumbled and fell. The feel of a body was almost a relief, probably one of the drunkards from the inn looking for a shorter way back to his home. Still, she was relieved, until she looked closely and saw the lifeless eyes of one of her husband’s cohorts. Peabody, her mind noted in shock. She reached out a badly shaking hand and the scream of terror began to rise within her. She knew before she actually touched him, then she saw the gaping hole that had once been his throat. A tiny trickle of crimson dribbled into the cushioned ground beneath her. Before Amberlaine could consciously stifle her horror, she started to scream. Unreasoning fear forced motion, and she crawled backward until she met the unyielding resistance of one of the huge trees that filled the forest. She groped blindly and hauled herself to her feet. Her eyes remained riveted to the dead stare of the corpse in front of her. “Amberlaine.” When she didn’t respond to him, he repeated her name with a new inflection, one of commanding power to his tone. The quiet, controlled voice cut through the wall of panic that surrounded her, and she was able to look away from the crimson gore that had once been Peabody’s throat. Alexander stood a few feet away, pale moonlight surrounded him in a silvery radiance and gave him the appearance of a benevolent angel. She ran to him before she knew what else to do. Her arms went around him and she buried her face against his chest, desperate tears finally spilling forth. Alexander hesitated for a moment, pleasantly startled by the feel of Amberlaine in his arms. She was clinging to him, quiet sobs shuddering through her. He pulled her closer and began to whisper soft words of comfort as he led her away from the grisly scene she had found. He spotted Julian peering at him through the trees and the younger vampire’s anger brought a small glimmer of amusement to his smile. “You are safe, my pet,” he murmured to the frightened woman. He stopped walking once they were well away from the body, and he turned her face up to meet his gaze. “You saw nothing, Amber,” he told her, weaving the hypnotic spell that would erase her memory of the horror she had witnessed. He felt her mind resisting his influence, and was oddly pleased by the realization. It reinforced his belief that she was much stronger than she knew. Still, it was not long before she succumbed to the pressure of his suggestion, and the fear that had lit her eyes began to fade. “There is nothing here to frighten you, pet,” he assured her in the same gentle, soothing tones he’d used to erase her remembrance of the death. After several tense minutes, Amberlaine’s fear ebbed away completely and left only confusion in its wake. Confusion and an awareness that made her body tremble with a new kind of fright. She knew she should not allow herself to remain in Alexander’s embrace. The desire to be this close to him, closer, over-rode her good sense. “I am not frightened, my lord,” she whispered in a tiny voice. “I have never felt safer in my life,” she admitted with a sudden candor that made Alexander smile. The irony was a pleasure in itself, he thought. She was in more danger than her young life had ever known, yet all she felt was trust. And desire. Yes, the light in her eyes spoke clearly of her desire to share his bed. Alexander bent to brush her lips with his, and the sharp intake of her breath was followed immediately by the tentative pressure of her mouth meeting his caress. Her

inexperience was frustrating but intriguing, and the vampire carefully tasted her mouth, keeping the stroke of his tongue delicate. Amberlaine stirred in his arms, and she moved closer to him to press her small frame to the long length of his body. She opened her mouth to him, invited his probe, and he felt the warmth of her tongue entwined with his as she answered his reawakened hunger. Alexander eventually drew away from the sweetness of her shy, caressing responses to him and held her face between his hands. “You are making it very hard for me to let go of you, my pet,” he whispered, the words strangely sincere despite his flippancy. “Take me with you, Alexander!” she cried, no longer caring if she had to beg for his attention. She had never felt so alive before, and her body shook uncontrollably in his arms. All she could think of was the mindless, intoxicating happiness he had just taught her with his kiss. No one had ever touched her this way, nor had any kiss made her feel as she now did. “Please, my lord?” The words were breathless, pleading. “Amberlaine,” he smiled warmly. “I am not leaving.” “But you will,” she said sadly as tears filled her eyes once again. Stung by his apparent rejection, she pulled away from him and turned her back to hide the shame she felt at her actions. She was a married woman, behaving like a wanton tramp. Why would someone like this nobleman want her? He could have any lover he chose, he would certainly want better than the battered wife of an innkeeper. “Alexander?” Julian’s voice reached them a moment before the young noble stepped into view. Amberlaine turned glistening eyes to him then she ran, unable to face his kindness and decency. “Why won’t you leave her alone?” he asked, his voice low with anger. “She wants me to take her with me when we leave,” Alexander laughed. “She feels safe with me, Julian,” he informed the younger vampire. “Why wouldn’t she?” Julian retorted instantly. “You are making a habit of saving her from her fears. She doesn’t know you are worse than anything she could imagine in this place.” “Perhaps you should tell her,” Alexander suggested coldly. The nobleman’s words angered him more than he would have preferred. He laughed then, the sound dark and contemptuous. “But, that would mean admitting you are just like me, wouldn’t it, my Julian? And she would no longer look at you with such adoring respect. If you find this little wench so enchanting, dear boy, take her and be done with it!” “It’s not me she wants, Alexander,” he pointed out. “And that matters?” the ancient vampire enquired, his voice again tainted with mocking amusement. “Doesn’t it?” Julian challenged, unexpected knowledge in his eyes as he faced his master. Alexander held the steady stare for a full minute, then he nodded. The humor had vanished from his mood, to be replaced by the dangerous introspection Julian knew so well. “Very good, Julian,” Alexander whispered. “You are finally learning to see more clearly.” The confirmation of Alexander’s desire for the woman did little to comfort the younger vampire. If anything, it made him feel that his reluctance to warn her was

somewhat cowardly. Still, he could see no way to make her life better, short of taking her away before Alexander could suspect him. It would only be a temporary solution, at best. He’d tried to leave Alexander before, hadn’t he? He’d never been successful. Amberlaine herself would not want to leave the master vampire. She was a child, he thought. A trusting child. “She’s an innocent…” Julian stopped the sentence before he could complete the thought, and understanding lit sudden wrath in his eyes. “I should have guessed,” he noted bitterly. “That’s what fascinates you.” Alexander’s eyebrow rose as he considered the truth, then he laughed again and strolled back toward the inn. “He will take her with us, Julian,” Diana remarked, as she appeared at his side seemingly out of thin air. “Perhaps she will be better off?” “Are we?” he asked quietly. Blue eyes met blue in a moment of silent communion.

Chapter 3 Amberlaine didn’t stop her flight until she reached the back door of the large, sprawling inn that was her home. She slipped into the quiet kitchen and ignored the inquisitive stares of the few women who still worked. She was about to seek the quiet of her bedroom when Thom came in from the tavern room and spotted her. “Where’ve you been?” he growled, furious at the sight of her. He grabbed her arm and flung her through the open doorway he’d just passed through. He caught her again before she was fully into the room, and backed her against the wall. His face bent to hers and he saw the wince of distaste she couldn’t completely suppress. “He left you behind, didn’t he?” he laughed unpleasantly. “And after you was so eager to please him. Well,” he continued, looking down at her with leering contempt, “at least he paid well. Not that he got his money’s worth, to be sure.” “You’re a monster, Thomas,” she spit back in disgust. “You’re not fit to speak to people like them. Only other creatures like yourself.” His hand closed over her throat and he held her pinned to the wall as his grip tightened relentlessly. Amberlaine’s hands clutched his wrist in a futile effort to dislodge the strangling hold. Sound and vision grew dim, and she felt consciousness spinning away into a vortex of peaceful nothingness. **** Tears flooded her eyes and told her she hadn’t died after all. Amberlaine turned on the soft bed she’d somehow been placed in as sobs began to wrack her body. She refused to open her eyes and face the hopelessness of her life. She had wanted to die, and God had denied her another time. She buried her face in the pillow and curled into a tight ball as she rocked herself in a slow, agonized rhythm of despair. It wasn’t until a gentle hand touched her shoulder that her eyes flew open and she saw where she had been taken. Diana’s expression was much more compassionate than she could have known as she brushed aside a wisp of tangled auburn hair and smiled down at the frightened woman. “You are quite safe, Madame,” she assured her charge. “Julian found you,” she explained when Amberlaine’s confusion became evident. “Why?” Amberlaine finally asked, and wiped at the tears that refused to stop spilling from her eyes. She barely managed to prevent the trapped sobs from bursting forth another time, but she was determined to at least try to regain some semblance of dignity. “Because he is Julian,” Diana answered with a low laugh. “He is the shining knight, if you will. He feels he must honor that caste,” she continued, confusing the shaking woman more than explaining anything. “It does not matter,” Diana assured her. “You are quite safe. Alexander is not happy with your husband, ma chérie.” Amberlaine stared at the other woman, sensed the curiosity Diana felt about her. “I thought you would be gone by now,” Amberlaine whispered, her voice rough and filled with pain. “I was sure of it.” “It is Julian’s opinion that we should never have stopped at your inn, and I feel he may be quite right.”

“Why did you?” Amberlaine asked. She winced at the stab of fiery pain that speared her throat each time she spoke, but she was unable to suppress her curiosity. She refused to acknowledge the anguish Diana’s words woke within her—to never have met Alexander did not bear thinking about. “We are on our way to Boston,” the other woman explained. “There was a problem aboard our ship and we were forced to land just north of your charming little town.” It wasn’t quite the truth, but it was close enough. And, they were on their way to Boston. Amberlaine grew quiet and brooding. She absorbed the dark-haired beauty’s words, and tried to prepare her heart for the loss she felt nearing. They would be gone, very soon. “You are thinking of how it will feel to say ‘adieu’ to him, aren’t you?” Diana asked, her voice a soft caress of sympathy. She had never seen any mortal so enchanted with her master, and Amberlaine’s unflinching trust in Alexander was mildly disconcerting to one who knew him as intimately as Diana did. “He told me he was not leaving,” Amberlaine murmured, a tinge of irony giving the admission a melancholy sound. Diana shrugged. “There are times when Alexander is ruled more by whimsy than logic. He is quite taken with you, though he will not admit that fact.” Amberlaine was both shocked and thrilled by Diana’s words, and she tried to find an appropriate answer for her. The other woman must have seen her struggle for she laughed quietly. “It does not need to make sense, Amberlaine,” she assured her. “Alexander is often as erratic as Julian. He is simply much more dangerous when he is angered. Your unfortunate husband has angered him a great deal, I’m afraid.” “I have to speak to him,” Amberlaine said, struggling to rise from the bed. Diana offered her hand, and the room weaved for a moment when Amberlaine finally stood. She closed her eyes and steadied the nausea that threatened her, then she headed for the door. **** The kitchen staff looked at her in varying degrees of surprise and relief when she stumbled into the large room. The cook, a small, round woman named Hope, grabbed the shaky landlady and led her to a chair. “There, there, Amberlaine,” she cooed gently. “Thom said you was feelin’ poorly. Let me get you something.” “No,” Amberlaine shook her head. “I must speak to Monsieur DeLenoir. Is he still here, Hope?” “He is, and that handsome young friend of his, too.” Amberlaine smiled absently. She suspected Julian had caught the eye of virtually every member of the kitchen staff, and Hope was having a hard time keeping them at their work. Even as the cook tended to her, several of the maids were peering into the common room and giggling amongst themselves. Amberlaine tried to think, to rid her mind of the fog that was determined to keep her slow and confused. She ran her hands through the heavy tangle of her hair, and only then realized what a sight she must look. She turned troubled eyes to Hope, and felt her heart break at the kindness in the older woman’s eyes. “Thomas tried to kill me last night, Hope,” she whispered in horror. She saw that

emotion reflected in the cook’s unhappy expression, and was grateful for the comfort of Hope’s work worn hands clasping hers. For several minutes they remained silent and huddled together, then the cook took a deep breath. “This stranger, Amberlaine,” Hope began reluctantly. “His presence is disturbing. He is not like his companions, that one.” “He’s saved my life from complete misery!” Amberlaine defended Alexander instinctively, and the sharpness of her words lit a deep sadness in the cook’s eyes. “I feel hope again for the first time in so long…” Amberlaine withdrew her hands, and the void of emptiness grew inside her. She stared at the rough tabletop and struggled to find a way through the conflict that warred within her. “I must see him,” she whispered fiercely. She no longer cared that her words would reveal her unfaithful heart to the other woman. All that mattered now was her desperate need to see Alexander. “Then you should wait until the tavern is closed, Mistress,” Hope remarked in a cool tone. Her disapproval was clear. “If you chose to carry on with this stranger in front of your husband, you are asking for more trouble. He will kill you both for your cuckoldry.” Amberlaine was stunned, and infuriated. She rose and Hope shrank back at the rage that lit Amberlaine’s grey eyes. She’d rarely seen the lovely landlady angry, and had never been the object of her wrath. In the moment Amberlaine held her frightened gaze, Hope was reminded that this woman was not a commoner, as she herself was, but had once been in the same class as the guest she defended so vehemently. She was further intimidated when Amberlaine leaned down and spoke very softly. “You will not judge me, Hope. Nor will anyone else. And if my pig of a husband dares to strike my guest, it is he, not I, who will suffer.” Hope knew Thomas Calvert’s bad temper, and his treatment of his wife. She could hardly fault the lovely young woman for her hatred. But, they were still bound by God’s laws, and Hope had seen the way Amberlaine looked at Alexander DeLenoir. She had heard the maids whispering about the landlord’s wife and the stranger, as well. Most of them were convinced Amberlaine was spending her nights with the pale nobleman, and blamed her flagrant disregard of his position for Calvert’s increasingly black mood. Hope had defended the young landlady. Now she, too, shared the opinion that Amberlaine was the stranger’s trollop. “Be careful, Amberlaine,” she advised. “Of what you say, and more importantly, of what you do. You know what will happen if Thomas accuses you of…” “Enough!” Amberlaine snapped. “I have done nothing!” Before Hope could find an appropriate reply, the landlady rose and slipped down the corridor that led to the rooms she shared with her husband. **** The evening went on forever, and Amberlaine paced the chamber in restless anticipation. She had bathed and changed into the last decent dress she owned. The mere thought of seeing Alexander sent a thrill of excitement through her, and she resisted again the urge to seek him out in the tavern. Only the fear of witnessing a brawl incited by Thomas kept her in the room. It would not be much longer before Calvert would toss the last of his patrons out into the night. She knew Alexander would remain alone in the common room, as was his custom

since arriving at the inn. Amberlaine had found him there the second night of his stay, and she’d fallen in love with the stranger. Everything about Alexander was a joy to her, and she fell willingly under his spell. He was all the things she’d ever dreamed about as a young woman, intelligent, worldly, handsome, and refined. All the things the men around her at the inn were not. He treated her with kindness and the respect a lady was entitled to expect. In Alexander’s eyes, Amberlaine saw the life she’d always wanted, and it made her hope for an escape from her present existence, however unrealistic that might be. Sometimes, Julian was with him, and other times Diana, too, would be present. They enjoyed each other’s company Amberlaine quickly discovered. And, to her considerable delight, they welcomed her at their table as well. Amberlaine was enchanted by each of them in different ways. Diana she was in awe of, for the lady was beautiful, educated, and extremely clever. Julian was everything that could be admired in a man; kind, handsome, courageous, and honorable as few men she’d ever known. But, Alexander was extraordinary. He was a thoroughly frightening combination of darkness and alluring hope. His voice affected her like a caress of silk. His look woke desires she barely recognized, and certainly of which she had little understanding. When he spoke of far away places and a life that she had once dreamed of, Amberlaine felt as if he read her soul and was offering it back to her. She remembered their kiss, and the trembling surge of heat that had consumed her when she was entangled in his arms. Even now she shook with the recalled response of her body clinging to him, and begging for his attention as she had never wanted anyone else’s. Her wandering thoughts almost made her miss the telltale scuff of feet in the hall outside the rooms that were her home. She rose and hid beside the door as she waited. She had been too slow, and would have to escape after Thomas had fallen into bed. The doorknob was turning when Amberlaine heard the sound of Hope’s voice calling Thomas back to the kitchen. When the echo of his curses and stomping feet faded, she slipped out of the room and headed for the darkest corner of the tavern. **** “Monsieur DeLenoir?” Alexander’s smile was amused, and filled with satisfaction. He turned and extended his hand to the woman who hovered in the shadows at his left side. Amberlaine’s small fingers curled around his and he pulled her into the dim firelight. His attention was immediately captivated by the vision she presented to him. Expecting to see her as he had become accustomed to, he was pleasantly surprised by the beauty before him now. Her hair, gleaming auburn against the dancing flickers of light from the hearth, was loose and streamed over her bared shoulders. The gown she wore was of palest blue silk, and he could see the enticing swell of her breasts rising and falling as she fought for a composure that refused to come. The dress clung to her, and hugged her tiny waist, then spilled out into a full, shimmering skirt. In that instant, the decision he had unconsciously been toying with was unexpectedly made. He wanted nothing more than to claim this prize as his own, to immerse himself in the sweetness of her spirit as he drank the richness of her blood. “You look lovely tonight, my pet,” he murmured softly and rose from his chair to tower over her. He raised both her hands to his lips and kissed each palm. He sat her at

the table and bent to place a light kiss on her shoulder before he returned to his own seat. The heat of her flushed skin lingered on his lips, and he repressed the taunting awareness as he watched her. He was genuinely curious that she dared to show herself to him this way. Especially with her husband close by. “What do you wish of me, Amberlaine?” he enquired, a hint of lingering smile curving his mouth. She felt the scarlet rush of color that flooded her face, but managed to maintain his gaze. “Nothing,” she answered quietly. “I only wished to be… close to you.” “Is that why your husband attempted to kill you last night?” he asked softly. “Because you are so attentive to guests he clearly has no liking for.” “You saved my life, monsieur,” she said, grey eyes filled with curiosity, as well as gratitude. “Why would you risk such a thing for me?” “It was not the risk you imagine it to be,” he laughed. “But, I now think I may have done it regardless of that.” “You have not told me why?” “Because you interest me, pet,” he answered, and again his low, vaguely mocking laughter whispered between them. “I find I am drawn by curiosity about you, and why you would stay in this place.” “I have no where else to go,” she told him. Another rush of color heated her face, and she stared down at her hands on the table. “Is that why you wish to remain with me?” Amberlaine closed her eyes as tears threatened to fall, then she shook her head and met the cool hazel of his eyes. “I wish to apologize for my behavior last night, my lord. I have no right to ask anything of you. I hope you will forgive me.” “There is nothing to forgive, Amberlaine,” he assured her. He stood and took her hand again, pulled her to her feet and led her to a seat before the dying fire. The huge stone hearth was warm, and she sat on the edge of it as he settled on the floor at her feet. “Your husband is a fool,” he said. Amberlaine’s laughter was brittle and filled with loathing. “He is much more than that, I assure you,” she breathed in an undertone. Alexander reached out a hand and touched the slender ankle that peeked from beneath her skirts. The breath of contact still affected her, and she made no move to withdraw from his touch. Long, sensitive fingers drifted upward, over the smooth curve of her calf, until he found the satiny skin behind her knee. The tips of his fingers caressed the silky softness and he heard the tiny gasp of pleasure she tried to suppress. He backed away and shifted his position. His intense gaze snared hers and she slowly slid off the hearth and knelt before him. His hands rose to stroke her hair, and her lips parted as she leaned forward in unwitting invitation. He denied the wordless request and let his fingers trace the curve of her jaw, then move across the heated warmth of her bared shoulders. He ignored the dark bruises that stood out in stark contrast against the pale skin of her neck, and was faintly surprised at the rise of anger he felt when he considered how close Calvert had come to killing her. Amberlaine’s breaths were ragged and she touched his chest to steady herself as greater shudders of reaction shook her body. The delicate, exploring touch was waking a longing she had never experienced before. She was both appalled and intrigued by the languid warmth that was building within her, and settling between her thighs. A tiny

moan escaped her when Alexander’s lips finally touched her throat, and his expert fingers glided over her body with sudden, possessive hunger. Her head fell back and she arched into the demand of his hands pulling her hips into firmer contact with his. Alexander’s head snapped up abruptly when he felt the presence in the doorway a short distance from them. His eyes pierced the darkness, easily recognized the woman who lurked there. “What is it?” Amberlaine whispered, eerily attuned to the shift of his attention. She felt a chill run the length of her spine and she pulled slightly away from him, her heart hammered furiously within her. “Nothing, pet,” he assured her. Amberlaine stared up into his eyes, felt herself drowning in the compelling, strangely glittering depths. She loved him. In that single moment, she was no longer uncertain, or afraid. “Perhaps you should return to your chambers?” Alexander suggested, a tiny note of distraction in his voice. “What?” The shock in her eyes when he turned back to her was mildly amusing and Alexander laughed softly. “If you do not leave now, Amberlaine,” he murmured gently, “Then I will be forced to take you here, whether we are being observed or not.” She blushed bright red at his words, but to her absolute horror the response was accompanied by an equally intense thrill of excitement. If he had chosen to take her at that moment, she wouldn’t have cared who witnessed her adultery. Alexander felt the confused emotions his words had evoked, and he was tempted. Amberlaine was still tightly pressed to his body and he lowered his head briefly to her neck, his tongue caressed the pounding pulse and a breathy whimper of desire slipped from her lips. He smiled and allowed himself the luxury of absorbing her tremors as her arms wrapped around his neck and her head fell back to grant him access to the throat he now desperately wanted. “I love you, Alexander,” she whispered softly. “Anything. I will do anything for you, mon bien-aimé.” Alexander’s hunger was momentarily overshadowed by tremendous satisfaction as he accepted her declaration. He drew back enough to stare into wide grey eyes and smiled at the unabashed adoration that shone back at him. “Go upstairs, Amberlaine,” he requested. “Wait for me.” “Where are you going?” She tried not to sound panicked, but part of her feared that he was going to leave her. “I will be with you very soon,” he assured her. “Now, go, my pet.” He added the inflection of demand to the soft words, saw her confusion surface then fade into obedience. She rose with him, the action graceful and fluid, then he watched her climb the stairs. She had reached the top and was headed for the west wing bedroom when Alexander crossed the room in a blinding blur of motion. A low shriek of terror was cut off before it truly began. The serving girl Hope had sent to do her spying would never report back to her mistress. Alexander would deal with the woman and Thomas Calvert after he had taken his prize. He wiped Colleen’s blood from the corner of his mouth and reached upward with his thoughts. He could feel

Amberlaine’s anticipation, heard every tiny shift of her mind as she fought the fright her husband’s brutality had instilled in her. She was afraid of what Alexander would want from her, but equally determined to allow him whatever liberty he would take. He smiled again. She would be a delightful student to the passions he intended to teach her. **** Amberlaine paced the room and tried to quell the tears that threatened her composure. She couldn’t stop entirely the trembling that assailed her each time she allowed herself to think about what Alexander would expect from her. She had felt so violated and degraded by her husband’s lust, how could it be different with another? Would Alexander be any kinder to her than Thomas? She ran her hands through her hair and crossed to the window. The coolness of the night air soothed, until she heard the heavy door swing inward and she spun around to face him. Her breath caught in her throat. Alexander stood in the doorway, his pale presence haloed by the dim, flickering light of the candle he carried. He closed the door, and proceeded to light several of the tapers that were present in the room. Once the shadows dispersed, he went to sit on the edge of the bed. He held out his hand and Amberlaine walked toward him, took both his hands and knelt in front of him. “You are afraid of me.” It was more statement than question and she would have denied it but he shook his head. “Do not lie to me, Amberlaine. You have good reason for your fear, pet. I am not like your husband.” Alexander brushed aside a long strand of silken coppery hair and she pressed her head into the light contact. “I don’t want to be afraid,” she confessed shakily. “I want to please you. But…” She looked to the floor. Alexander’s smile grew. He tilted her head upward, long fingers brushed a gentle caress along her jaw. “You do please me, my pet.” “I don’t know…” Again she stopped speaking, then suddenly brave she rose and slipped her arms around him. She held him tightly, pressed her warmth to his chest. “Show me how to please you, Alexander?” she asked quietly, her voice low but steady now. Alexander pulled her up from the floor until she sat astride his thighs, then he drew her mouth to his. She moaned softly as his tongue explored and caressed with urgent passion. Amberlaine’s response was no less intense as she began to answer the thrusts and probes with awakened desire. He held her to him and settled back on the bed with her soft body draped over his. Through the heavy folds of her gown, Amberlaine could feel the solid hardness of Alexander’s tall form. He wasn’t at all like her husband. Every touch of Alexander’s hands was heavenly, and she felt heat flood her entire being when he shifted their position again. She laughed softly when he smiled down at her and his hips moved against her. The barrier of clothing between them seemed to enhance the sensation of heated longing, and she ran her fingers over his stunning features. “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever known,” she told him. “You are mine now, Amberlaine,” he said quietly, his voice strangely intent. The

quiet contained power in the resonant tone brought a smile to her features and she let one finger trace the full curve of his bottom lip. “I have been yours from the moment you entered this inn, my lord,” she whispered. “Perhaps you have,” he agreed. He ran pale, slender fingers along the scooped neckline of her gown, barely touching the flushed skin. “Come,” he decided, and slowly eased away from her. He held her hand as he stood. She rose, uncertainty in her eyes. Alexander unfastened the stays on her gown, then slid the mass of heavy silk from her shaking body. He tossed the dress aside, saw it crumple in a glossy heap on Julian’s unoccupied bed, he’d undoubtedly be with Diana until morning, then he reached for her again. The white cotton shift she wore glowed in the warm candlelight, and he could see the erect points of her nipples straining against the thin fabric. He grazed one of the aroused tips with the ball of his thumb, heard the sharp intake of her breath as she experienced the pleasure of his touch. She moved nearer to him as his hands covered the soft warm globes of her breasts and caressed with firmer pressure. She leaned into the provocative touch and tried to step closer again. Alexander shook his head and withdrew his hands. She gasped softly and shivered when he continued to undress her until she stood before him naked and trembling. Only then did he permit her to step fully into his embrace. His hands glided over the smooth curve of her back, cupped her buttocks and pulled her hips into solid contact with his. She squirmed against him, and drew his mouth down to hers. Her hunger momentarily surprised him, then he lost himself in the surge of passion her restless hips evoked. Alexander lifted her and placed her back on his bed. He sat next to her and she stared up at him, grey eyes dazed and filled with unmistakable yearning. He lowered his head to her heaving breasts, took one hard nipple between his teeth and bit softly. She arched into the caress and his tongue played sensuously over the responsive tip as his hand slid between her thighs and parted them. She resisted his touch for the first time and he drew back to watch her expressive features and gauge her responses to him. “Look at me, pet,” he ordered quietly, his rich voice like a cool, soothing caress against her mind. Huge grey eyes opened again and gazed adoringly at him. Alexander held her transfixed gaze as he once again dipped a finger into her slick warmth. She tensed, but didn’t attempt to pull away from him this time as he probed deeper. Her eyes widened when he withdrew then brought the finger to his lips and licked the moisture he’d taken from her body. She flushed crimson and he laughed low in his throat. He rose and was mildly surprised when she crawled to her knees to watch every movement he made as he stripped off his own clothes and stood before her. “You are beautiful,” she breathed in overt appreciation. Her eager gaze wandered over his tall, regal form. Her eyes kissed every inch of pale, flawless skin and she held her hands out to him, painfully aware of the quivering she couldn’t subdue. She had never seen any man other than her husband this way, and Thomas was nothing like Alexander. A shiver worked up her spine as her look strayed over him again then met his flashing eyes. Alexander took her hands in his and placed them against his chest as he tugged her to her feet. She leaned up to meet his kiss and he pushed her hands lower, until shaking fingers closed over him. His hand covered hers, guided her, and their kiss deepened as she quickly began to explore without his help. Alexander enjoyed the shudder of pleasure that rose within him when her lips trailed down the side of his neck and her hands roamed

more freely. He laughed when her teeth tugged at the rigid tips of his nipples, and he resisted the temptation to guide her questing mouth lower. He caught her hands from behind him and brought the open palms to his mouth. He kissed each hand and eased her back to the bed. Amberlaine felt the heat of unversed lust consume her when Alexander’s weight settled over her. Her legs parted to accommodate him and she felt a tiny stab of unwanted terror as she awaited his possession. She had never felt this burning within her, the inexplicable need that he’d awakened. She didn’t understand what was happening to her, but she did know he could have any part of her that would offer him the pleasure he’d taught her this night. Alexander felt the shifts and twists of her thoughts, read them easily as he paused. He brushed back tendrils of auburn hair and kissed closed eyelids before his lips covered hers. His tongue slipped gently into her mouth as their bodies joined with equal care. She moaned softly and he absorbed the spasm of rapture that rippled through her as he thrust deeper into her. Her legs tangled around his and her body arched beneath him, answering its own need as she instinctively sought the rhythm of his passion. Amberlaine felt her body explode with ecstatic pleasure as he moved within her, and she strained harder against him. Alexander’s name came from her in hoarse gasps and she clung to him. She felt the change in him minutes later and stared up into eyes that had turned to golden liquid fire. She heard the growl of hunger in his throat as he continued to move with her. “Yes,” she breathed when he waited for her reaction. She had no fear of him, only love filled her heart. With a groan of agonized desire she wrapped her arms tighter around him and drew the revealed sharp fangs down to her neck in total surrender to him. It no longer mattered to her that he might be a monster like those whispered about in front of fires, the only thing that mattered to her was this moment, when she felt loved and desired by someone of her choosing. If she died in his arms, then these stolen hours of happiness would be worth not being forced to endure her husband’s abuses ever again. “Don’t leave me,” she whispered, tears streamed from her eyes and she cried out as her body writhed and the first pang of pain was replaced by greater euphoria than before. She felt the release of his passion and heard the soft sucking sounds of his feeding as she held him closer and drifted into blissful fulfillment. When Alexander drew away, ripped a gash in his chest and drew her mouth to the dark flow of his blood, she drank eagerly. During the next hours the master vampire bound her to him as he had few others, their blood mingled and her soul became his possession. He felt every fading beat of her heart as he held her nestled to his side. Death would not be long claiming her, and he would keep the promise she’d asked of him. Amberlaine would die in his arms. **** Julian approached the small west wing room with a weary heart. They’d lingered too long at this inn. Alexander’s fascination with Amberlaine Calvert was becoming more openly blatant, and it was equally clear that the landlord’s wife had fallen in love with the vampire. It would only be a matter of time before something happened that would put them on the run again. Maybe it was that, more than anything else, which bothered Julian. In Europe they had friends and homes to run to, places where a lifetime could be spent in peace and enjoyment. Here, in this wild new land, he felt a vulnerability that

disturbed him. It didn’t help, he conceded to himself, that he, too, found Amberlaine a charming and enchanting companion. She understood things that no mortal should be aware of, and she felt things in much the same way Julian did. They had already spent many hours in conversation, exchanging ideas, dreams, hopes. All because each knew they were wishes that could never be realized. Amberlaine was trapped in a marriage that would age her long before she should be old, if it did not destroy her completely before then. Julian was trapped in an eternal life from which there was no escape. In the midst of their despair was a pale, shining shadow—Amberlaine’s vision of hope, and Julian’s curse. Alexander might yet change destinies for them both. Julian had tried repeatedly to discover the master vampire’s intentions for the auburn haired beauty, to no avail. If Alexander had plans for this woman, he was not prepared to reveal them to Julian, or Diana. The lovely vampire had tried her hand at getting information from Alexander, as well, and she had met with no more success than Julian. That she was furious with Alexander virtually all the time now seemed to amuse the older vampire more than concern him. He accused her of jealousy, and Julian was forced to admit that he wasn’t entirely wrong. Diana loved being the center of attention, and he knew she would not easily adjust to another woman in their company. He had almost reached the room when he felt the change in the air. His vampiric senses tingled with the multitude of resonances that lingered in the tiny hallway. He could feel the vibrations of spent passion, that unmistakable scent mingled with another that was equally potent. Blood. He strained his hearing, and caught the faint whisper of a weakening heartbeat. He recognized the rhythm and knew what would greet him before he opened the door and went inside. The candles had sputtered out, the faint smell of burnt wax mingled with the other scents that hung in the air. His eyes pierced the darkness naturally as he found them. They were lying on the bed, bodies still entwined in a tangle of pale, shapely limbs. He didn’t want to acknowledge the meaning of their intimacy. Yet, something drew him to a watchful pose next to the bed. He stared down at the lovers, his eyes drawn more to Alexander than the woman in his arms. The vampire’s features were relaxed and open, an expression Julian had not seen for many, many years. Against his will, his gaze roamed, silently caressed the familiar contours of his master’s powerful body. Long legs were given the sheen of marble as moonlight illuminated the bed and bathed the vampire in cool, white radiance. Alexander’s arms cradled the beautiful woman to his side, one hand buried in the heavy waves of reddish hair that streamed over her back and spilled onto Alexander’s chest. His other hand covered hers where it rested over his heart. How long had it been since he’d sensed this side to Alexander? He had become complacently at ease with his disdain for the ancient vampire. He refused to let himself see Alexander as so many others did. Amberlaine had spoken almost shyly about her interest in Alexander, and Julian had become aware of exactly how deep that attraction went within her. He hadn’t taken the time to notice the sensuality that rose in her eyes only when Alexander appeared. Nor had he seen the blind trust and longing. Alexander had been conscious of it, though. The older vampire was a master in all respects. And, Julian knew from his own past with Alexander, the vampire’s alluring sexuality was a natural and overwhelming part of his personality. Julian felt his heart swell with regret, yet he could not hold the emotion when his

look shifted to Amberlaine’s face. Her expression was filled with peace, and a happiness that he could feel emanating from her even as she died in the vampire’s arms. Secure and safe, her entire being was consumed by her trust in, and love for the elegant, ebony haired stranger who held her. The thought came, unbidden, and unwelcome; ‘Did I look like that the night he took me?’ Alexander’s quiet voice whispered from the shadowy darkness, rich and smooth as silk. “You could never shed your guilt long enough to fully appreciate the possibilities of our shared passions, Julian.” Shocked and appalled that he had been so easily read, Julian all but staggered across the room to his own bed. He flung aside Amberlaine’s discarded dress, dropped to the feather mattress and closed his eyes as Alexander’s soft, mocking laughter filtered across the short space that separated them. Loneliness filled Julian. An ache so profound he felt drained by it. He knew from long years of suffering that going to Diana would not banish the pain, only enhance it. He chose to remain where he was, though his senses seemed determined to prevent his escape into sleep, despite the approaching sunrise. He could hear Amberlaine’s breathing in the next bed, gradually slowing as death crept over her. He felt Alexander’s gaze on him, taunting and curious at the same time. His thoughts had revealed things to them both tonight. Things better forgotten, some inner voice condemned. Still, when he heard Amberlaine’s breathy voice a short while later, his heart seemed to contract with pain. Alexander’s name, her dying word. He felt the vampire’s smile, sensed his pleasure, and heard the light kiss he placed on the dead woman’s lips. Julian closed his eyes and dragged in a deep breath that was designed solely to calm the tempest that rose within him. His emotions seemed to rise and fall like a relentless storm, tossing his carefully cultivated peace of mind into chaos. He was so lonely, it was unbearable. He did not want to admit why, most especially to himself. He started violently several minutes later when he felt the cool, gentle touch of long tapering fingers tracing the curve of his cheek. He wanted to pull away from the touch, but a deeper desire held him still. He opened his eyes and stared into the dazzling hazel gaze that hovered mere inches above his face. He saw the curving outline of Alexander’s smile, the expression oddly tender in the shadows that blanketed them. In spite of the instinctive objection forming in the back of his mind, Julian opened his arms to the man seated on the edge of his bed. Alexander’s tall, pale body stretched out next to his young companion’s and he bent his head to Julian’s neck, fangs seeking as the former nobleman’s arms wrapped around him. For the first time in almost a century, Julian accepted his vampire father’s embrace and the comfort only Alexander’s presence could offer.

Chapter 4 “Where is she?” Thomas roared as he strode into the kitchen area of the inn. Hope flinched away from his anger, not quickly enough to avoid the resounding slap he issued when she wasn’t able to give him an answer. She tasted blood, and daubed at the corner of her mouth as she stared into his wild eyes. “Who, sir?” “Colleen,” he sneered. “The little bitch never returned.” Hope had feared sending the girl to watch Amberlaine and the stranger but Thomas would not be dissuaded. The cook knew in her heart that Colleen had been spotted and was probably dead. Anger and hatred rose rapidly within her breast. “Your wife’s lover may know,” Hope spat with visible contempt. Thomas glared at her. Amberlaine had vanished from the inn two nights ago, after Calvert had attacked her in the hallway. He’d thought the traitorous slut dead when he left her. He’d also thought the strangers gone from his house. The cook’s words infuriated him, but he didn’t bother punishing her for the insult she’d just paid him. Calvert strode from the kitchen and headed up the stairs. As she watched him go, Hope felt a conflict of emotions. She had liked Amberlaine, but more deeply ingrained than her fondness for the other woman was the disgust she felt when she considered the careless way the young woman had shamed her husband. There was also the undeniable fact that she disliked Alexander intensely. In Hope’s mind, men like him took what they desired without regard for propriety or decency, and it was his fault Amberlaine had degraded herself and forsaken her marriage vows. **** Thomas was halfway up the stairs when he was called back by Elias Porter and Jacob Bentley. Bentley was the local judge, and Porter the wealthiest merchant in the small seaport town. The two men were visibly distraught as they waited for Calvert to join them. “What the hell is going on?” Calvert snapped. He was irritable and foul-tempered at the best of times, today the condition was worse than usual. “Will Hamilton’s body was just found, Thom.” Bentley managed to make the announcement without revealing the revulsion he experienced each time he thought about the condition of Hamilton’s corpse. “Body?” Calvert repeated stupidly. He gave the revelation a moment’s consideration then his features darkened with anger. “You don’t think I had anything to do with it?” he demanded and slammed the two mugs of ale he’d just poured onto the bar. Miraculously the earthenware cups didn’t shatter on impact. “Of course we don’t,” Bentley assured him. “Ain’t no way you could’ve had anything to do with what happened to Will.” Something in the hushed words nagged at Calvert. “Well, get on with it!” he snapped after the two men downed their ale and continued to eye each other nervously.

“The body was found about half a mile from here, in the woods.” Porter had finally found his voice. “When was the last time anyone seen him?” Thom asked warily. “The night you threw him out,” Bentley answered. He cleared his throat and looked around the empty common room, his suspicious gaze looking for possible eavesdroppers. “Did anything unusual happen that night, Thom?” Calvert scowled at him. “Not unless you consider my slut of a wife flaunting herself at him unusual.” “Is that why you tossed him out?” “What the hell difference does it make?” Thom snarled. “The son-of-a-bitch was fine enough when he left here.” “Who’s staying here just now, Thom?” The innkeeper eyed Bentley with greater suspicion. He was about to dispatch his visitors when it occurred to him that this might be his opportunity to rid himself of the unwanted guests in the west wing. “Come to think of it, the night I threw Will out we had some late arrivals. Three of ‘em, two men and a woman.” “Ever seen ‘em before?” “Strangers. Foreigners, too. French. Amberlaine tended to them,” Calvert said with a sneer. The reminder of his wife’s interest in Alexander was all it took to enrage Thomas again. “We’ve seen them,” Porter remarked thoughtfully. “The lady’s a real beauty,” he added with an appreciative smile. Before anything could be added, the door to the tavern was swung open with a loud bang. Reverend Jack Ward staggered into the room and made for the nearest table. He was white as death and the shaking that assailed him was noticeable from their vantage point across the room. “What in God’s name is happening in this town?” Calvert yelled. “God has nothing to do with it, to be sure.” Ward crossed himself and his eyes closed in a fervent prayer. When he was slightly more composed, he rose and joined the three men who watched him with varying degrees of exasperation. “We just dragged Charles Peabody from the lake, his throat’s been torn out, just like Will’s.” Calvert laughed darkly. “So all this fuss is because of a rabid wolf.” “No wolf I ever saw tore a man’s throat like that,” Porter whispered with a shudder. “What are we going to do?” the Reverend asked. “Organize a hunting party,” Calvert stated, his sarcastic snort indicated that should have been obvious, even to a religious man. “We’ll track the beast and destroy it.” “Do you think your guests would want to join the hunt?” Bentley questioned. Now that some semblance of a plan had been offered, he quickly took the idea and made it his own. “Them!” Thomas snorted again, his mirth laced with hatred and contempt. “I’d be happy to feed the beast their heads. Somehow I don’t think those two would have the stomach for a blood hunt.” His friends joined him in his dark laughter, but some inner voice mocked Calvert and assured him he was very wrong about at least one member of the party that currently occupied the west wing rooms. Alexander’s icy hazel eyes

appeared before him, and the disdain in their shifting depths seemed to reach out and touch Thomas like a chilling kiss of death. **** The day had been exceedingly long. The Pirate’s Cove hunting party had combed the heavily wooded parameters of the town and when it was nearing dark, they’d cornered ‘the wolf’ in his lair. This was the unfortunate beast Alexander had sent scrambling the night he’d watched Amberlaine bathing. The vampires had heard the return of the hunters, and shortly thereafter the sounds of revelry drifted upward to them. Julian was pacing and all but shouting at the calm, unconcerned figure staring out the window. “We have to leave here, Alexander!” “We will, Julian,” the master vampire eventually said as he spared a glance at his irate companion. “Very soon.” His gaze moved to the bed, and the woman who occupied it. “You should have left her alone,” Diana remarked when she saw the direction of his interest. “She is not your concern, Diana.” The words were firm, and brooked no argument. She glared at him but held her silence. “They’re going to discover their ‘wolf’ was not responsible for the deaths,” Julian snapped. “We have to leave before that happens.” “Why?” He stared in open amazement at the pale vampire. “They’re certainly no threat to us, Julian,” Alexander soothed in a bored tone. He walked to the bed and sat on the edge, long fingers traced the delicate curve of Amberlaine’s cheek. The bruises Calvert had inflicted on her loveliness were gone without trace, her skin was flawless and her beauty ethereal. He sensed her slowly waking from death. She’d be hungry when she woke. He smiled at the thought. Her hungers would be complex and much like his own, he’d bound her deeply; she’d be as savage as he wanted her to be, in all ways. “They’ll be a threat when she wakes, chéri,” Diana assured him. “Leave us!” Alexander ordered sharply. Julian and Diana were visibly startled by the vehemence in the directive. For several moments they remained as they were, until Alexander’s head turned and glowing eyes bored into them. “Leave us!” he repeated, the growl deadly and furious. Julian took Diana’s arm and they slipped from the room. **** The inn was empty when Amberlaine finally opened her eyes hours later. The first thing she saw was the face of her lover. Alexander smiled down into her eyes and she rose when his hand, at the back of her neck, eased her toward him. Her arms slid around him and her mouth sought his. Her entire body shuddered when he pulled her snugly to his body and kissed her with a thoroughness that made his lovemaking of the previous night seem tame.

“I’m hungry,” she whispered long minutes later. “Then we must find something for you,” Alexander replied gently. He knew exactly who would serve his purpose too. “What hour is it?” “It’s late, my pet,” he murmured into her ear. Amberlaine rested her head against his shoulder and sighed happily when Alexander’s fingers smoothed over the tangled mane of her hair. “It wasn’t merely a dream,” she breathed. “I had thought to wake and find you gone.” “I will never leave you, Amberlaine,” he promised with a satisfied smile. “Come.” She stood with his help and a pang of unbearable pain made her fall to her knees at his feet. Again, Alexander was instantly attentive to her discomfort. He picked her up and held her as the shaking began to subside. The second attempt was successful and she quickly dressed in the white shift that served as her only undergarment. When she reached for the silk gown, Alexander shook his head. “I prefer you as you are,” he smiled, his appreciative gaze swept over her curving form then came to rest on the slender column of her neck. She accepted his appraisal with a calm she would not have believed possible a few days earlier. The hunger in his look woke all the passion that she had learned herself capable of the previous night. She would never tire of Alexander’s lust. He led her from the room and they descended the stairs to the common room. The inn was silent, seemed deserted when she was used to hearing it filled with life and ribald laughter. Alexander listened to the stillness, heard the telltale beat of a heart, and knew Thomas would find them before long. He was deliberately muting the perceptions Amberlaine’s newly awakened vampiric senses would feed her, he wanted her hunger fully aroused before he allowed her to claim the prize he had chosen for her initiation. She preceded him into the room and Alexander watched her closely as she wandered. Amberlaine came to a halt before the massive fireplace, and she held her hands out to him, the invitation clear. The fading embers cast a red-gold glow over her, the illusion of warmth and innocence further teasing Alexander’s desire. Grey eyes were brazen in their longing, not uncertain and timid as they had been last night. She wanted him, perhaps more than she needed sustenance. For a fleeting moment, Amberlaine thought he would refuse her. Terror coursed through her veins and she almost ran to him. He smiled and stepped toward her. Hazel eyes were alive with power and she smiled blissfully when Alexander’s arms encircled her waist and held her molded to him as he bent to cover her mouth. The thrust of his tongue was matched by the seductive motion of his hips and she shivered against him as she answered both demands with the full force of her love. She leaned into his touch when he eased her down to the floor and lowered his head to her breasts. She bit back a cry of pleasure as his teeth tugged at the aching tip of one rigid nipple. The thin cotton shift was still between them and she drew back enough to pull the material aside and expose naked flesh to his caresses. He laughed softly, a low growl of enjoyment and she guided his eager mouth to the firm nipple of her other breast. Minutes later he cupped the soft mounds in his palms, kneaded with increasing pressure

as his tongue caressed the silken skin at her throat. Amberlaine choked on the intensity of her desire. She felt as though Alexander absorbed her very soul in his kisses and caresses. She was being devoured by his possession, and she wanted only more intimate touches. She reached for one of his hands, inwardly appalled at the wantonness of her action as she slid his willing fingers across her belly and downward between her thighs. “Please,” she begged, her voice a rough hiss of need. “Please what, pet?” Amberlaine stared into Alexander’s blue eyes, caught the challenge there, and laughed. “Please fuck me, my master,” she rasped, hunger and passion thickening her voice. His smile made her bolder, and she knew he was enjoying her uncharacteristic bluntness because it was the first time she’d ever uttered such words. “I want your splendid cock buried in my…” “Your cunt, darling,” Alexander offered the word as if it was the sweetest term in the world, and smiled at her. “Is that the word you want to use, Amberlaine? You want my cock in your cunt, pet.” “Yesssss…” She hissed the word while she spread her legs wide and pushed her hips into the steady thrust of Alexander’s probing fingers. “Deceitful, traitorous whore!” The magic Alexander had woven shattered as Thomas Calvert’s snarl of rage broke through the haze of passion. Amberlaine turned as Alexander casually released her, and her face froze in horror when she saw the pistol in her husband’s hand. She scrambled to her feet and stood in front of Alexander. “Thomas, no! You cannot do this,” she pleaded. “Amberlaine.” She heard Alexander’s cold, deadly voice near her ear—she ignored him. All her mind would acknowledge was the danger to him. She tried to take a step toward Thomas but found she was pressed tightly against Alexander, and his arm encircled her waist. Calvert’s eyes became wild with jealous fury when he took in the half-naked state of his wife, and he raised the weapon. The few minutes which followed would never truly be clear to Amberlaine. In a burst of strength born of sheer terror, she escaped Alexander’s hold and lunged for her husband. She caught his hand and the pistol exploded with a blast of sound that was deafening. Thomas cursed and kicked her aside, his foot landing solidly in her stomach. The blow made her recoil in agony. Alexander’s ‘patience’ snapped. He beckoned the innkeeper forward with a contemptuous smile. Calvert hesitated for a heartbeat’s space of time, then he grabbed up one of the fireplace pokers and charged forward. His attack had all the grace of an enraged bull. Alexander was waiting to meet the rush when he was taken by surprise a second time. Calvert’s eyes bulged in horror and pain, then he fell at Alexander’s feet, the sootblackened length of the second fireplace poker protruded from his back. Amberlaine still held the crude weapon and as Thomas fell forward, the poker slipped from the wound. The rough iron rod clattered to the floor seconds later when she became aware that she still held it. The vampire stared from the crumpled body to the disheveled beauty who

had just saved his life. Amberlaine’s hands rose to her mouth, and her face transformed with disbelieving horror. Alexander stepped over Calvert’s body, and wrapped Amberlaine in his arms. She clung to him as fear and perverse satisfaction vied for dominance in her heart. She felt her stomach twitch as the scent of fresh blood teased the hunger she’d been conscious of since waking. She looked up at Alexander for guidance. “He’s not dead, pet,” he assured her. “He’s waiting for you.” As the ancient vampire insinuated his hold more firmly into her mind, she gradually stepped back and glared at her fallen husband. He had rolled onto his back and was now attempting to stand. She placed her small foot on his chest and pushed him back to the floor. Calvert screamed in anguish. She felt Alexander’s amusement touch her mind and it made her bolder. Thomas glowered but remained oddly quiet now. Alexander’s will would not permit him to utter a sound. “I hate you, Thomas Calvert,” she snarled softly, her gentle voice a cold imitation of its usual meekness. She stepped over him, feet on either side of his thighs, then dropped to her knees. As his lover knelt astride her victim, Alexander laughed quietly. One eyebrow raised in speculative interest and he sat at a nearby table to watch her. The provocative mood and the overtly sensual position of his new pet was exciting him with surprising intensity. Calvert made a grab for her, and Amberlaine intercepted his hands so swiftly he cried out when his captured limbs were slammed against the floor. She leaned forward, her shift fell open to allow her imprisoned husband a deliberate look at her nakedness beneath the thin garment. “Do you still want me, Thomas?” she questioned, her voice mocked and taunted him at the same time. “Do you want to touch me? To fuck me like one of your wretched serving whores?” Calvert stared at her, shocked by the words as much as the manner in which they’d been spoken. He had never known her to speak like this, even when she was enraged by his actions. Her hips moved against him, tantalizing and arousing despite his fear of the man who watched her tormenting him. Amberlaine laughed suddenly and sat back. She still held his hands in the steely grip. “Even in your terror you want me, don’t you, Thomas Calvert? Your filthy prick is practically dancing with your need to possess me again.” She glared at him, and the rage seemed to have a life of its own within her, making her wild and savage, as though some other woman had emerged. A woman who was not afraid of anything. She actually touched him willingly, and her smile was feral. Her elegant, slender fingers traced the outline of her husband’s cock pressed against his trousers. His flesh twitched at the caress, and she pressed more firmly. “What do you want to do with this, Thomas?” She tilted her head to one side. “Tell me, Thom. You’ve never hesitated before to speak your mind.” Blood pooled near their laced fingers and she felt another of the searing pangs of hunger when she spotted the growing stain. “Is this what you want, my husband?” She leaned back, her spread thighs giving him an unimpeded look at her glistening center. She deliberately let her fingers glide over the smooth nest of curls then she opened her wet folds to his vision. His eyes went huge, and lust was quickly overshadowing terror. Her fingers dipped into the stickiness that was

seeping from her, and she grinned at his choked gasp. “You’ve never known me to offer myself to you, have you, Thomas?” He shook his head. Amberlaine tossed her hair back and reached for the hem of her shift, pulling the garment over her head and throwing it aside. She bent forward and caressed her dangling breasts, pulling on her nipples as she squeezed and kneaded her lush curves. “Do you want to suck my tits, Thom?” She laughed. “You’ve always wanted to in the past.” He was shuddering now, and bleeding profusely. The metallic scent of his life’s essence was making her insane with desire and hunger. Alexander saw the weakness threaten her and he indulged his own desire to participate in this first kill. He stood and the motion instantly brought her entranced gaze up to him. Her smile twisted with macabre anticipation when he began to undress. Calvert’s eyes bulged in their sockets when the master vampire stepped into view. Her hands released Calvert and reached up to Alexander. The vampire bent and gently kissed Amberlaine’s forehead. She tossed her hair away from her face as he stepped behind her and knelt at her back. Now they both straddled Calvert’s body. She caught her husband’s hands again when he tried to push her away, and the action had her leaning over the stricken man. Alexander moved with her. The master vampire lowered his mouth to her neck, suckled soft skin as he reached around to fondle the fullness of her breasts. She moaned quietly and he felt the vampire wake within her. He raised his head to smile down into Calvert’s disgusted and terror-filled eyes. “Your wife is mine, Calvert,” Alexander murmured, fingers tugging at her engorged nipples. “And I enjoy her as you never could.” Alexander moved closer to her, his hands drifted lower and came to rest on the insides of her thighs. He held her, parted her legs further and slid into her. She thrust back against him, drew him deeper with the movement. He covered her hands with his and reinforced the hold on Thomas as he shifted his position and began to move within her. “Take back your life, my pet,” Alexander encouraged, his resonant voice soft with compelling command. Amberlaine felt the furious hunger become an agony as the thrust of Alexander’s hips became harder and faster. She shook her head and Thomas screamed as her fangs emerged completely and she tore into his throat with lethal swiftness. The Thirst was unbearable and she drank greedily as her body writhed with the rhythm of Alexander’s possession. When there was nothing left, she was hauled away and Alexander’s fangs sank into her neck as he held her tightly to his chest. The body they made love over was forgotten as twin growls of frenzied lust echoed in the unnatural quiet of the inn. **** Julian and Diana felt the specter of death that hovered in the tavern. She reached out to touch her companion’s arm, and was mildly disconcerted by the reactive tremor that shook her. Julian stared down into her eyes, his own like shards of ice. Alexander’s voice was unmistakable, as was the tone—how often had they heard that mocking, torturing pitch? Despite the solid hold Diana had on his arm, Julian jerked away from her and strode

toward the common room. He knew she was only a step behind him when he came to a full stop in the shadowed doorway. His stomach churned with loathing at the scene he witnessed. Thomas Calvert lay on the floor, over him were Amberlaine and Alexander; he was taking her the way a dog would take a bitch in heat. The master vampire’s face was softened with the intensity of his pleasure as he made love to his newest child, while she drained her trapped husband of life. It was obscene. Julian winced unconsciously when Alexander wrenched her away from Calvert’s throat and pierced her neck to feed his own hunger. Amberlaine cried out in her elation and Julian slumped against the doorframe. Behind him, Diana fought her own battle for control. The voices of the enthralled lovers blended as their passion peaked, twin rumbles of pleasure and sensual gratification. When Alexander freed his lover, Julian thought it over. He stepped from the darkness as Amberlaine stretched out before the dying fire and opened her arms to her master. Alexander covered her body with his and licked the stain of blood from her mouth before his tongue delved into the welcoming warmth. Her legs tangled around Alexander’s and Julian felt their renewed joining as acutely as he had experienced Alexander’s dominion the previous night. He hated the reminder that he had felt comforted and loved in the master vampire’s arms. Alexander’s passions were a madness, and the lovely redhead clearly gloried in his possession of her. Julian understood her addiction, and knew no amount of time would dim her pleasure of the unions with her master—Alexander would see to that. He’d imprison her in her own devotion and love. Diana saw the conflict written on his handsome features and she tugged at his arm. “Julian!” she whispered in a frantic hiss. “Leave them. You know he will be like this all night.” She had not seen this side of the ancient vampire for many years, but she did know him better than anyone else—his hunger for Amberlaine Calvert was as consuming as the lady’s desire for him. As long as Amberlaine interested him, Alexander’s appetite would be insatiable. Julian wanted to say something, do something, but she was right and he had no argument to offer. He also knew Alexander was fully aware of their presence, but chose to ignore them. Hatred rose within him, crested in his throat like a vile tasting brew of shame and humiliation. He tore his gaze from the entwined lovers and he and Diana left the tavern room as silently as they’d entered. **** Amberlaine stretched contentedly and smiled when Alexander’s arms drew her back against his chest. She reached for the hand that lazily caressed her breast and brought the open palm to her lips. She turned willingly when he whispered her name. “I love you,” she breathed softly. “I have never felt this way before.” Alexander’s laughter was indulgent and satisfied. She frowned. “You are still planning to leave?” “Of course,” he licked the stain of his blood from her forehead, then looked down into eyes that were now lit with fright. “You are coming with me, pet.” She closed her eyes and shivered when he laughed again. “What about that?” she asked, and cast a disdainful glare at her dead husband. “And this place?”

“Do you wish to stay here?” She heard the inflection of anger in his deep voice and immediately shook her head. “No. But they will hunt us if Thomas disappears and I run.” “Then we will stay long enough to insure that does not happen.” “Julian is angry now, Alexander. He wanted to leave several days ago.” The concern for Julian irritated Alexander. He caught her chin in a strong grip and forced her gaze to meet his. “Julian is not your affair, my pet. You would do well to remember that.” Amberlaine was stung by the harsh words, but held her tongue. “I will take care of your husband,” Alexander told her. “Go to your rooms, the sun will be rising in less than an hour.” “Will you join me there?” Alexander’s eyebrow rose and he smiled. “I fully intended to.” Amberlaine felt desire shudder through her another time. She rose and gathered up the flimsy shift she’d worn earlier. Without pulling the garment on, she headed for the bedroom she would now occupy with the only lover she’d ever want. **** Hope felt her blood run cold when she stepped into the kitchen and saw the pale figure who sat at the rough table used by the servants. Alexander smiled and beckoned her forward. She jerked toward him like a doll manipulated by an expert puppeteer. She crossed herself wildly and his laughter echoed in the predawn stillness of the inn. **** Julian heard the screech of terror and it made him cringe. Diana, curled into his arms, held him firmly at her side when he would have risen. “It’s already too late, Julian,” she whispered. “If you interfere there will be others before we leave here.” “How many lives will our secret demand this time?” the golden-haired nobleman rasped. Pain lodged in his throat and he swallowed the tightness that constricted his voice. “It does not matter,” she shuddered delicately. “Not to Alexander. It never has, as you well know, mon amour.” “She’s already as savage as he is.” “She is what he sensed, Julian. Amberlaine Calvert is what drew him to this inn. I’ve rarely seen him like this, so…” “Infatuated?” Julian offered when she was unable to find the word that she sought. “Oui,” she considered the word, then shook her head. “Non, he is more than infatuated, he is obsessed. It is much like he was when we first discovered you.” “She wanted him.” “We all want him, Julian,” Diana chided. “Even you, my brave knight.” He tried to deny her, the lie stuck in his throat. Scarlet tears stained the smooth curve of his cheek and he closed his eyes as the first rays of the rising sun began to bathe the world in warmth.

Chapter 5 Amberlaine shivered into consciousness and laughed when Alexander’s hands glided over her and pulled her hips into contact with his. “I want to wake each night like this,” she murmured as she rolled onto her side and draped a leg over his hip to pull his thigh between hers. She pressed herself to the taut muscle of his leg and he increased the pressure of their touch. “You have become a whore overnight, pet,” he teased. “As you wished,” she returned and covered his lips with hers. **** Julian and Diana looked up from their untouched drinks when they felt the arrival of Alexander and Amberlaine. The two were not even looking at each other, but there was an unmistakable bond between them. Heads turned and a hush fell over the common room of the tavern. The regal vampire continued through the nervous crowd and joined his companions. Amberlaine walked behind the bar. “Where is Mr. Calvert?” Emily Miller asked. Amberlaine smiled at the younger woman. “Why? Was he supposed to meet you last night?” Emily’s dark eyes grew wary and she busied herself by pouring several mugs of ale. She knew the landlady didn’t give a damn where her husband spent his nights, so why did she feel so guilty? “I haven’t seen him since last night,” Amberlaine told the anxious serving girl. “Perhaps the wolf they killed had a mate?” she suggested wickedly. “Aye, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Emily snapped as panic rose in her chest. Amberlaine shrugged, genuinely unconcerned. “You’ll not live long enough to enjoy this place once they find out you’re that bastard’s whore!” Emily hissed in an undertone. “If you wish to continue working here, Emily,” Amberlaine said with a coldly calm smile, “you will keep your mouth shut and out of my business.” When the girl began to turn away, the vampire grabbed her arm and hauled her around so their eyes met. “Think long and wisely before you meddle in things of which you have no understanding,” the landlady advised. She released the girl as quickly as she’d taken hold of her, and they both stared in surprise at the faint bruises already showing on Emily’s skin. “Get about your business!” Amberlaine snapped, suddenly furious. **** “How much longer do you intend to keep us here?” Julian wondered when Alexander’s eyes strayed to the tense features of his current lover. Even with most of the room between them, the three older vampires could each feel the anger that radiated from their newly reborn companion. “She’s not going to be as easily controlled as you seem to think,” the golden-haired nobleman predicted. Alexander’s laughter was heartfelt. He turned his glittering gaze to Julian.

“Amberlaine will be anything I wish her to be, my dear Julian.” Diana glanced at the lovely redhead, and her stomach twitched in response to the master vampire’s assertion. Alexander was very right; this child was totally his. “Diana understands,” Alexander observed as he watched her. Diana sat back in her chair and looked at Julian. Her nod was barely perceptible, but the confirmation created a bleakness in his eyes that saddened her. Alexander would destroy Amberlaine Calvert, as he did all who were foolish enough to truly love him. “You still haven’t answered my question, Alexander,” Julian pointed out to their master a short while later. “We will be leaving in a few days,” the ancient vampire stated. His look had boldly fastened on the lovely woman who passed among the tavern’s patrons and laughed as she hadn’t done in the entire time he’d known her. He wanted her, again. Amberlaine felt the heated stare that Alexander directed at her, and she quivered at the awakened desire his thoughts whispered to her mind. Her hands trembled ever so slightly when she placed mugs of ale on a table and smiled vaguely as she accepted the coins that paid for the drinks. Despite the knowledge that she should not go near him, Amberlaine was drawn to the table in the corner. “What has angered you?” Alexander asked when she stood next to him. “They are questioning Thom’s absence,” she whispered. “What have you told them?” “Nothing,” she stated, her eyes dark with annoyance. “I owe none of these people explanations.” Alexander nodded his approval, and laughed softly. Amberlaine caught the worry in Julian’s gaze and she touched his shoulder. Blue eyes were startled when he looked up at her, and she smiled. “It is no different from any other answer I have given those who interfere where I have no wish for them to be, Julian. My ill-temper is the fabric of local legend,” she laughed. “Most people wonder how Thomas puts up with me, not the other way around.” “This town is populated by fools of the worse kind then,” Julian graciously commented. “That is something I have known all of my life, sir.” In spite of himself, Julian laughed at the warmth in her voice and relaxed. He felt in many ways that he was only now meeting the woman who was Amberlaine Calvert. Alexander watched the exchange through narrowed eyes, and felt an unwanted twinge of resentment at the shared amusement of his two children. Diana was calmly indifferent, though he sensed her agitation lurking just beneath carefully cultivated composure. “Do you wish me to bring you anything?” Amberlaine asked as she unconsciously moved closer to Alexander. She raised her hand, almost touched him, then drew back. Alexander felt the waver in her resolve, and he let the back of his hand whisper a caress over her bare arm. She shivered at his touch. He took her hand and brought the cool, trembling fingers to his lips. A breathy sigh became a low growl and he smiled as the vampire woke within her. When he stared up at her, incandescent gold eyes poured liquid fire into his and she leaned closer to him. “Alexander?” Beneath the obvious longing, there was bewilderment layered in the soft utterance,

and he rose. “Alexander!” Julian knew what the ancient vampire intended, and he was equally certain how foolish the action would be. Alexander ignored him and walked ahead of Amberlaine. As he crossed the common room, he knew she followed, eyes downcast. He passed through the kitchen and she stopped long enough to issue orders for several meals that had been requested. Her roughened voice trailed after him as he slipped down the hallway that would take him into her chambers. **** “He’s going to…” “He’s going to do exactly what he wishes, Julian!” Diana interrupted. “No one has noticed their departure.” He looked around, amazed and relieved to discover that she was, indeed, right. **** Amberlaine opened the door to her rooms and after closing it firmly behind her, she twisted the lock into place. Before she could step further into the room, Alexander pinned her to the solid panel and leaned into her neck. She cried out in agonized pleasure when his fangs sank into her flesh and the long length of his body pressed her tightly to the wood at her back. Fire raged through her veins and she arched into his embrace. “Please, Alexander?” she breathed minutes later as his tongue stroked the fresh wounds in her neck. She squirmed against him, caught in the throes of an arousal she couldn’t control. “What do you want, pet?” “You,” she sighed and pulled his head away to look into his eyes. He smiled, and she knew he was laughed at her. The knowledge angered and humiliated her. She tried to pull out of his arms but he kept her in place with the force of his weight. “I hate it when you laugh at me.” “Hate isn’t an emotion you associate with me, Amberlaine,” he whispered smugly. “Don’t pretend it is.” She stared at him for several moments, then suddenly jerked forward. The taste of his blood was as intoxicating as the finest wine, and she savored the essence of his surprise as she drank. Seconds later his hands tangled in her hair, gently drew her away from his neck. He stepped back and she shuddered violently when he began to undress. Her smile was salacious, eager. Alexander’s hypnotic gaze never lost hers. She removed her skirt and blouse and the garments beneath them, then followed him to the bed. Alexander settled on his back and she started to lie next to him. He shook his head and she knelt at his hip, her eyes questioned silently. He caught her hair in his fist and lowered her head, until he felt resistance to his wordless command. Grey eyes had grown huge and she stared at him in confusion, and mild disgust. Irritated, Alexander held his annoyance in check. “You are going to suck my cock, pet,” he told her. “And once you’ve done that, I intend to stick my tongue so far inside your sweet, wet cunt that you’ll never want me to stop.”

The challenge hung between them for long seconds, then her head dipped and her tongue glided over him, the caress experimental and hesitant. When his breath became a hiss of enjoyment, she relaxed and grew more intent on her task. Alexander laughed softly and ran pale fingers through the silky mane of her hair as her mouth willingly explored more intimately. A short while later he pulled her away and she trembled visibly when Alexander laid her back against the sheets and spread her thighs. Expecting his possession, she gasped in shocked surprise when he draped her legs over his shoulders. “I did tell you what I was going to do, love,” he reminded her. “Yes, but…” Her words faded as his mouth sought her most private places. Her fingers knotted in the bed linen as the probe of his tongue grew more demanding. She writhed against the unbearable pleasure and her head fell back to the edge of the bed. Long auburn hair brushed the floor, luminous eyes closed, and her fangs ached with hunger as she screamed… **** Diana’s hand shook as the sound of Amberlaine’s scream brought a sudden hush to the noisy common room. She knew the cry had not been fear or pain, and a shudder ran the length of her spine as she tried to still the twisting in her stomach. Julian had risen instantly, and she saw several other men headed toward the back of the inn. She remained where she was. **** Julian reached the passageway first and he whirled to stop the charge of the local men. His vampiric gaze froze each of them in turn as he spoke soothing words and assured them there was nothing wrong. He would find the landlady, and she would be fine. It took precious minutes, but eventually he was left alone in the corridor. The lock snapped with no effort and he swung open the door to Amberlaine’s chambers. His concern died in his throat. Her head dangled over the edge of the bed and her eyes opened, but he knew she wasn’t aware of his presence. Alexander’s dark head rose from between her thighs and as Julian watched, the master vampire knelt back and drew Amberlaine up into his arms. His fangs sank into the softness above her breast as he pulled her closer and their bodies merged. Amberlaine’s low growl echoed in his mind as Julian turned back into the hall and leaned against the closed door. The sounds blurred within his head yet each was painfully explicit; Alexander drinking, the rhythm of their lust as they strained for release, and Amberlaine Calvert’s passion-rough voice declaring her love again and again. She belonged completely to Alexander. **** The following evening, Jacob Bentley entered The Guardian. With him were Reverend Jack Ward and Elias Porter. Amberlaine eyed them sharply when they hesitated near the door and spoke in frantic whispers between themselves for several moments. She

glanced to the far side of the room at Alexander, who merely raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Uh… Amber…” The Reverend cleared his throat and began again, his nervousness apparent. “Mrs. Calvert, we have some rather difficult news to tell you.” She waited, hands crossed on the bar, eyes guarded. “Get on with it, Jack,” Bentley prodded. He glanced around the tavern room, noted that it no longer filled nightly with most of the town’s men. Each evening fewer and fewer people entered the inn. Tales were spreading like wild-fire, and the citizens of Pirate’s Cove were growing more afraid of the mysterious strangers who resided at The Guardian. Without conscious thought, his gaze found the one they feared most. Alexander returned his look without visible reaction; the nobleman’s impassive assurance set Bentley’s ragged nerves further on edge. Emily Miller had eased behind the bar and was chewing her bottom lip as she strained to hear what the men were saying to Amberlaine. She knew the news would not be welcome, at least not to her. Amberlaine raised one eyebrow, waited for the Reverend to swallow, then leaned forward, elbows on the bartop. “If you are trying to spare my feelings about something, Reverend Ward,” she said softly. “I assure you it is not necessary. Simply tell me what has upset you so?” “We’ve found Thom,” Bentley stated bluntly when Ward again seemed unable to deliver the news. “And?” she prompted. “He’s dead, Amberlaine,” Jack Ward finally found his voice. “I am so sorry.” “Why?” she asked. “Did you really think I would be broken-hearted by such news? I have never pretended to love my husband, gentlemen.” “Bitch!” Emily lunged for the unsuspecting landlady and grabbed a handful of flowing red hair. “You probably killed him yourself!” She spun Amberlaine around and landed a resounding slap to the other woman’s face. Silence fell over the room as everyone present turned to watch the sudden spectacle. Emily continued to rain blows upon Amberlaine and shriek accusations that quickly diverted all eyes to the enigmatic man in the corner. **** “She’s not going to be able to maintain her control for much longer, Alexander,” Julian stated impatiently. “Is there a reason why she should?” the master vampire asked blandly. “Damn you!” Julian snapped as he stood and began to close the distance between them and the enraged redhead. He knew Amberlaine was already transforming. Diana’s laughter joined Alexander’s as the two watched. “And here I thought tonight would be as boring as others have been recently,” the beautiful lady commented softly. Alexander answered the observation with a flicker of smile and leaned back to watch what would unfold. Seconds later, he was forced to rise. ****

Amberlaine snarled in fury when Emily’s fist connected with the underside of her chin. The wild blow would have knocked a mortal unconscious, the vampire merely struck back. Emily went tumbling over the wooden bar to sprawl in an ungainly heap on the dusty floor. Reverend Ward’s muffled yell warned her that they’d seen her vampiric nature. Before she could decide what to do, she saw Alexander leave his table. The ancient vampire was a blur of motion. The door to the inn slammed solidly shut and the few unfortunate people who had not escaped the moment the altercation had erupted were now trapped within the tavern. Julian barred the rear exit and the room grew silent. The scent of fear was arousing, and tainted the air with a kind of madness that infected the four vampires as one. Jack Ward fell to his knees and began to pray. Alexander’s laughter was insanity visited upon tortured souls, and he chose his first victim. He enjoyed the irony of allowing the Reverend to witness the deaths of his congregation before he himself would be sent to his eternal rest. Julian had attacked only once during the vampire feeding frenzy, when he had been deliberately provoked by a man wielding the glowing hot fireplace poker. Amberlaine took Emily Miller, but no other. Blood flowed freely as Alexander and Diana purposefully selected their prey and enjoyed their impromptu feast. Amberlaine had backed away in the face of their savagery and she tried to accept the reality of what her life had become. In Alexander’s arms it had been easy to deny what she’d begged him for, she belonged to her lover, his blood coursed through her veins. She felt sickened by the carnage she now saw him revel in. She turned to run. **** Julian waited, read each of the shifts in her emotions as she absorbed, probably for the first time, the true depth of her bond to Alexander. Diana had played this game with the ancient vampire for more lifetimes than Julian had been with them, she enjoyed the blood hunt almost as much as Alexander himself. Despite her exquisite beauty and charm, Diana was her master’s child, which is why she understood him as few others could. Amberlaine, despite her adoration of Alexander, was horrified, and Julian was ready to stop her flight into the night when she ran toward him. “Those who escaped,” Julian said when he held her arms and forced her to look up at him. “They’ll be back soon, Amberlaine. We have to prepare to leave.” She nodded, reordered her thoughts with real effort. She needed to separate herself from what was happening. “Your horses are in the stable. There’s a stallion in the last stall, he’s mine. I’ll collect your things and meet you at the back.” When she would have turned to look into the room, Julian tightened his grip and shook her. “Go! They’ll follow when it’s finished, Amberlaine. Not until then.” She clenched her teeth and nodded as bloody tears slipped from her eyes. Julian watched her climb the stairs, felt his heart wrench as he understood just how much of her innocence still remained to be corrupted by Alexander. This was what he, too, had sensed; the thing that had driven him to fight the ancient vampire’s desire to stay here. He had failed, miserably, to protect her. ****

Amberlaine fidgeted next to the raven black stallion, her eyes continuously drawn to the rear exit of the old inn that had been her home for the past two years. She whispered soothing, nonsensical words to the impatient horse, barely conscious that she did so. Julian finished checking the saddles and glanced down at the frightened woman who stared at the door as if she could will it to open and reveal her lover’s safe return. Precious minutes passed, and he felt the tension rise as they were forced to wait for Alexander and Diana. He didn’t risk going back inside, as long as they kept the back of the inn clear, the two vampires would have unimpeded access to freedom. “Julian!” Amberlaine’s frightened gasp turned him back to the building. He saw at a glance what had brought out her panic. Fire was beginning to light up the night, the flames clearly visible against the inky blackness of the sky. He handed her the reins and headed toward the inn. He was less than six feet from the exit when it flew open and Alexander strode into view. Diana was only a step behind him. “Where is Amberlaine?” “Alexander!” She was in his arms instantly and shook with relief as he kissed her forehead. “The horses are ready,” Julian informed them, his voice tight with annoyance. “We have to leave, Alexander!” The master vampire smiled at the urgency revealed in the tone, but he nodded his agreement. With Amberlaine held close to his side, he followed the nobleman and Diana to the nervous animals. “He is a beauty,” Alexander murmured in appreciative appraisal as he stroked the neck of Amberlaine’s stallion. “He is all I have left of my father’s wealth,” she told him. “He was called ‘Thunder’, my father’s whimsy because he was born during a storm.” “Could we discuss this at another time?” Diana asked, her voice tinged with pointed irritation. Amberlaine nodded and quickly mounted the horse. Beside her, Alexander did the same, then led the way into the night. Behind them, shouts and the sounds of crackling timber broke the silence. The smell of smoke permeated the air for miles. **** Amberlaine stared into the shadows that surrounded their temporary refuge. She had led them quickly and stealthily to one of the few places that had offered her sanctuary during the past few years of her life. The townsmen had pursued briefly, before fear dimmed their enthusiasm and they gave up the chase. They would be much braver during the daylight hours, she knew. Alexander, Julian and Diana had heard the whispers, ‘vampires’, ancient legends and horror stories come to life among the townsfolk. The men of Pirate’s Cove no longer hid behind the safe illusion that the killer of their fellows was a rabid wolf. Julian watched her, felt the shifts of her fright and confusion as she tried to come to terms with all she had witnessed this night. She was presently as much afraid of them as she was the enraged crowd who planned to hunt them. Alexander had made no move toward her since they’d stopped. He, too, watched her, and Julian felt the master vampire’s curiosity.

“How long are we going to wait here?” Diana demanded as she paced, then stopped to peer into the night sky. “We have only a few hours before dawn.” Alexander leaned against the solid wall of rock that braced his back, unconcerned. Julian knew it was a careful façade, that Alexander waited for his lover to go to him. The younger vampire was equally certain she would not. Which meant— Julian rose and approached her, his footsteps soundless. “We have to leave here soon,” he said softly as he sat beside her. “I know,” Amberlaine replied in a whisper. “There is a safe place not far from here. They are very afraid of the ruins.” She turned to look at him and her expression reflected amusement and irony. “They fear the ghosts who haunt the grounds. Many of their fathers were among those who burned the witches of Salem, and I think they believe it is those spirits who walk these ruins in search of their killers.” “And are there ghosts?” Julian asked with a warm smile. “I think there are, but none who would harm anyone.” “He’s waiting for you to go to him,” Julian told her after several moments of silence. “I don’t know what to say to him,” she confessed with a shudder. “I knew nothing about him when I agreed to eternity in his arms.” “And now?” Julian questioned. “And now I know even less.” **** Alexander’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he continued to stare at Amberlaine and Julian. He heard their words, but it was the undercurrent of empathy bonding the two which sparked anger within the ancient’s mind. She was being drawn ever closer to Julian, in a way that disturbed Alexander. Her soul belonged to the master vampire, but there was a near reverence in her expression as she looked at Julian. Adoration was reserved for Alexander, yet she still could not see his companion in the same way she clearly had come to see Alexander’s vampiric nature—somehow, she thought Julian better than them—and that understanding enraged Alexander. **** Amberlaine felt the burst of fury within her lover’s mind and turned startled eyes to him. Without conscious consideration she stood and went to him. Seconds later, she dropped to her knees and reached for his hands. “What is wrong?” Alexander smiled, the shift of his features eased none of the anger that glittered in his brilliant eyes and dominated his handsome face. “Do I frighten you again, my pet?” Her fear became more vividly enhanced by the soft query. “I should, Amberlaine,” he warned in a gentle whisper. “Why would you want me to fear you, Alexander?” she asked, her puzzlement real. “I love you. You know there is nothing I would not do for you.” “We shall see, Amberlaine,” he murmured thoughtfully. He pulled her into his arms and she sighed when his lips touched her throat in a light kiss. “Alexander!”

“The ruins are not far from here,” Amberlaine told him when Diana’s hiss of rage stabbed the sudden silence of the night. When he nodded and released her, she rose. Minutes later they had left the isolation of the clearing. End of Part One

PART TWO Prelude Boston—December 1724 Amberlaine strolled out into the chilly night, immune to the ice that lingered in the air. Festivities abounded in the Tarrant house, and the celebration that enthralled so many created nothing but boredom in the restless redhead. She turned to look into the candleladen room, alive with people and vibrant with laughter. The huge Christmas tree was a masterpiece of beauty and joy. She felt nothing as she stared at the holiday revelers. Henry Tarrant and his daughter, Melissa, hosted some of the finest parties in the city, and Amberlaine had often attended them—much to the dismay of the host and his hostess. Still, neither had dared to suggest to Alexander that his mistress was not welcome. Amberlaine had borne the sting of humiliation alone, when he was not present to hear the barbed comments of the simpering girls who competed for the attentions of the eligible men. They disliked her intensely. And, she knew, it was not simply because she shared the bed of one of their most sought after conquests. If they only knew what they coveted, she thought darkly. None of the foolish children who vied for Alexander’s favor would last long if they had managed to engage his interest. Julian was one of their favorites as well, but the elite of Boston society believed him to be the lovely Diana’s husband. Alexander had felt no honorable compunction to shield Amberlaine from the scorn of the city’s nobility, as Julian did Diana. She spun away from the happy scene and glowered into the darkness. She leaned on the stone column she had used to conceal herself from anyone who might have looked out. The gardens were lit by the soft glow of a half-moon, its silver radiance as cold as the mood she was slipping into. Alexander was somewhere inside the house, no doubt being entertained by Melissa. The girl was becoming a genuine nuisance, and Amberlaine was finding it increasingly difficult to be civil to her. A fact that amused Alexander, but was of no concern to him. Julian and Diana had left a short while earlier. Without their presence, few people spoke to Amberlaine. She was tolerated, not accepted, a condition that caused her a great deal more misery that she would ever admit. Especially to Alexander. “So, this is where you disappeared to,” a smooth voice, tinged with humor, observed. “I am surprised you noticed,” she whispered bitterly. “Is Melissa with you, or have you escaped her attempts to seduce you into marriage?” She hissed in a gasp of surprise when his hands slid around her waist and pulled her back against him. “I am always acutely aware of you, my pet,” Alexander assured her gently. “Your unhappiness is tangible.” “I am only unhappy when you force me to…” “Amberlaine!” The tone silenced her abruptly, and she jerked free of his grasp. She had walked only a single step when he stood before her and one hand encircled her throat. The warning was clear.

“They treat me like a common whore, Alexander,” she snapped, voice low and filled with resentment. “I am neither common, nor am I a whore!” He laughed quietly, and his hand drifted lower in a soft caress, across her shoulder, then to the silk-encased flesh of her breast. He cupped the fullness in his palm, and smiled when she bit her bottom lip and tried to deny the pleasure his touch created. “You are my whore, Amberlaine,” he corrected, though his tone treated the assertion as an endearment. “My child, and my lover.” “She thinks herself better than me, Alexander,” Amberlaine said, her body leaning into his touch as both his hands caressed her now. “Her young suitor finds you most appealing,” he murmured, and began to untie the silk ribbons at her bodice. “Poor old Henry Tarrant would sell his soul to possess you for a single night.” He drew her into his embrace and covered her trembling mouth with his. Her arms went around his neck and he molded her body to his as their kiss became an erotic torment of aroused longing. “I love you, Alexander,” she breathed into his ear long minutes later. Her entire body ached for him, for his hunger. Her hips ground into his as he freed her breasts and fondled the firm flesh with growing urgency. She arched in exquisite rapture when his lips sought first one nipple, then the other, his tongue teasing repeatedly as he suckled the responsive tips. “Alexander!” she cried in a frightened, barely audible whisper. The master vampire had heard the approach of one of the guests, the mortal heartbeat unmistakable. He ignored the man and pressed Amberlaine’s back to the stone column, his mouth still occupied with her skin. He drew away from the sweetness of her breasts, and found the gentle curve of her throat. She moaned softly, the sound a plea for his possession. A low gasp of embarrassed shock penetrated the vampires’ lust, but Alexander refused to release his hold on her. He identified the presence, dismissed it, then reached beneath the heavy fall of her skirts. Amberlaine was oblivious to anything but her need for him as her fingers worked the buttons on his pants. Moments later, he lifted her and thrust into her eager heat as her legs wrapped around his waist. Her head fell back, she shuddered convulsively as his fangs found her throat and bit deeply. **** “Merry Christmas, mon amour,” Amberlaine purred a short while later as she nestled into his neck, her head on his shoulder. She was no longer gasping, and the potent drug that was his blood tingled in her veins. Alexander laughed, sincere amusement in the sound. Before he could comment, a new voice interrupted their solitude. “Monsieur DeLenoir?” Melissa Tarrant’s voice shook in response to the cold night. “Are you out here?” Amberlaine kept her arms looped around his waist as they stepped into view, and was smugly pleased when Melissa’s smile faltered. When Alexander’s lips touched her forehead in a tender kiss, the girl’s face lost all trace of the pleasure that had lit her features when she first spotted the handsome vampire. Amberlaine and Alexander followed the girl inside without another word exchanged.

**** “Melissa informs me that you are unhappy, Amberlaine.” She smiled as she turned to meet the man who had spoken with so much selfsatisfaction. The girl had been quick to find another way to separate the vampire lovers, and this unexpected arrival of her father was meant to keep Amberlaine away from Alexander. The redhead hid her annoyance and permitted Henry Tarrant to take her arm and lead her from the grand ballroom of the huge mansion. “Your library is an extensive one,” she commented minutes later when they had reached the tranquility of the richly appointed room. Her appreciation was genuine as she scanned the vast array of titles that adorned the shelves. “You are welcome to enjoy any volume you wish, Amberlaine,” Henry assured her instantly. “You need only take whatever you want while in this house,” he added with a salacious gleam in his dark eyes. His gaze moved, slid over her curves and drank in her beauty as a thirsting man drowns in his first taste of water. He wanted desperately to touch what he could yet only look at, but he dared not risk taking her with Alexander in the next room. “You want me, don’t you, Monsieur Tarrant?” Amberlaine’s soft voice was husky with amusement and seductive allure. “But what would Alexander do if you made such an attempt?” she taunted. Tarrant’s gaze narrowed and he had to forcibly resist the desire to strike the smirk from her lovely features. Instead, he forced a slight chuckle, and poured himself a drink. She declined his offer of a glass of wine. “Do you enjoy being ridiculed and laughed at, my lady?” he asked when he had settled into an armchair before the fire. “Do not provoke me, monsieur,” she warned darkly. She paused, then a slow, faintly derisive smile crept over her features. “I assure you, I can be more dangerous than you know without Alexander’s presence to calm me,” she concluded with a wickedness that made her companion stir uneasily in his seat. Her contempt was veiled, but apparent to anyone who would have wanted to notice it. “I could give you anything he offers,” Henry suggested casually. “Perhaps more?” She had dropped to a demure pose a short distance from the fire, and the flickering glow bathed her in warm light and enticing soft shadows. “And what do you think he offers that can be measured and met?” she questioned without looking up at him. “You are quite clearly a woman of rich and refined tastes, my dear,” he said, tone appreciative and persuasive as he tried to coax her into the liaison he longed for. This creature haunted him constantly of late, in his waking hours, and in his sleep. He wanted to know if the vixen he bedded each night in dreams was the woman so near him now. So very close, yet unreachable. “I can give you anything you could want, Amberlaine.” She leaned forward deliberately, allowing him a generous and unimpeded peek down the bodice of her low cut gown. A little more and she’d all but spill out of the dress, but the increased tempo of his heartbeat amused her. She smiled, and fingered the neckline of the dress, biting back laughter when he squirmed in his chair in an effort to ease the sudden erection that made his breeches uncomfortably tight. “Perhaps I should discuss your very generous offer with Alexander,” she countered his words with a sing-song lilt to her voice, and smiled when he gaped at her in

astonishment. “If he is tired of me, he may not mind your…” she paused carefully, considered her choice of wording, then shrugged. “Of course, it is possible he may choose to kill you, monsieur. That would be most unfortunate, would it not?” Henry gulped the remains of his drink, rose quickly, and poured another. He downed it as well, then whirled to face her. Amberlaine had risen, too, and now stood near the window. Her features, rigid in profile, revealed her rage. “I will make a bargain with you, Monsieur Tarrant,” she stated coldly. He didn’t answer, and she glanced back to make certain he had heard her. “I will not tell Alexander of your most interesting proposition. In return for that gift, you will dissuade your daughter from her pursuit of my master.” The title slipped from her lips without conscious notice. Tarrant, eager not to lose his life, for he knew with certainty that Alexander could and would easily kill him in a duel, nodded vigorously. He realized she wasn’t looking, so he reinforced his agreement with a rush of words. “I am most grateful for your discretion, Amberlaine, and I sincerely hope I have not offended you. I will, of course, take Melissa in hand, though she couldn’t possibly distract any man from your charms, rest assured.” Amberlaine turned and smiled, one delicate eyebrow arched with pleasure. “You flatter me, Henri,” she purred. “I take no offense to your desire, monsieur. But,” her voice hardened noticeably, “I will not be so generous to your child if she continues to covet what is mine.” Tarrant was still trying to formulate a suitable reply when she swept from the room. Their bargain had been sealed.

Chapter 6 One Year Later “We’re leaving for England in a few weeks, Amberlaine.” She smiled and peered around the easel at which she worked. Julian shrugged and his grin was filled with mischief. “Is this your idea?” she wondered, her hands stilled from their work. “Or, does Alexander find Boston society as tedious as I do?” Julian rose and went to sit beside her on the small bench. He gave the portrait a critical appraisal and kissed her cheek. “Well?” she prompted, when he remained silent. “Well what?” The innocent tone was perfectly calculated and she swatted his arm affectionately. “It’s a very good likeness.” Amberlaine felt a tiny tremor of cool unease when Alexander’s soft voice replied to her question. Julian raised an eyebrow and smiled at her. “You have your answer,” he whispered, his smile once again becoming a grin of pure, teasing enjoyment. He rose and she watched him leave the room. “Julian has informed me that we are going to England,” she remarked with false casualness. Alexander had made no further comment since he’d entered the room. He now sat before the fireplace, his gaze drawn to the dancing flames. He ignored her query, and she swallowed the rush of fright his brooding silence created inside her. Her hand shook when she raised the brush to add a stroke of color to the sleeve of Julian’s jacket. “Join me, Amberlaine.” The quiet demand startled her, and she dropped the paintbrush. It bounced on the floor, stained the hem of her skirt, and rolled a few inches away. She placed the palette of colors aside and rose. Alexander’s arm encircled her waist as she neared and he pulled her into his lap. Amberlaine curled closer to him, her head nestled into the curve of his neck. She took his right hand in hers and idly traced the design of the heavy silver and onyx ring he wore. “I adore you, Alexander,” she whispered and kissed the back of his hand. The vampire smiled and disentangled his fingers to raise them to the softness of her cheek. He tilted her head back and covered her lips with a sensual caress that lasted endless minutes as long fingers stroked the slender column of her neck. “You are spending a great deal of time with Julian,” he eventually commented with calculated lightness. “And you are again spending a great deal of time with Melissa Tarrant,” Amberlaine countered. For nearly six months the girl had all but vanished from their lives. Recently, she appeared more and more frequently. Evidently her father had forgotten his agreement with Amberlaine. She winced inwardly at the genuine thread of jealousy she heard in the words. Alexander would laugh at her insecurity. “She imagines herself a woman of the world, pet,” Alexander remarked with the laughter she’d anticipated. The only surprise lay in the realization that it was not at

Amberlaine that he directed his humor. She drew back enough to look into his eyes. “What is it you plan for her, mon amour?” Alexander shrugged and dismissed the topic. “Do you like Boston?” “Not so much that I wish to remain here indefinitely,” she answered carefully. “Tell me about your family in England.” It wasn’t a request. She peered intently at him for several moments as she measured the real source of his interest. “You know as much as I do,” she slowly replied. “The Mooreland family do not acknowledge my existence. They are minor nobility, and my mother was considered beneath their lofty standards.” Bitterness crept into her words and she moved to leave him. Alexander held her trapped in his embrace. “Do you want to see them?” Amberlaine stared at him. “Why would I wish to give them the opportunity to spurn me as they did my father?” Alexander was silent, his only response a raised eyebrow. Amberlaine slowly relaxed in his arms and again snuggled closer to him. She laughed softly when Alexander’s fingers unlaced the front of her gown and peeled the rich material away to expose her generous breasts. He stroked smooth skin almost absently, his fingers circling her thrusting nipples but never fully touching them. “Alexander?” “Yes, love.” A low, guttural growl slipped from between her lips and she twisted in his lap until she was astride him. She kissed his forehead, and his lips, then guided his mouth to one aching nipple. Alexander’s fangs sank into her and the combined pain and pleasure of his suckling had her moaning and writhing against him. “I want you inside me, beloved,” she gasped as he turned his attention to her second breast, his tongue licking sensually over the puckered surface of her nipple. “Tell me how much,” he taunted. This was a familiar game, and she’d grown to love it. The sheer exhilaration and freedom of telling him precisely what she wanted, in the most base of terms. Between her thighs, the pulse of need was like a steady heartbeat that thrummed inside her head, and each throb sent another flood of wetness seeping into her underwear. “I’m so wet, Alexander,” she breathed next to his ear. To punctuate her words, she pushed his hand beneath the folds of her dress and rubbed against his stroking fingers. When he loosened the tie on her drawers and his hand slid through her wet curls to part slick folds, she cried out in agonized pleasure. He pushed several fingers into her and she shuddered, her hips bucking against his hand. “Is that what you want, pet?” “I want your prick,” she said, locking her hungry gaze with his amused stare. “My cunt wants your cock, mon amour.” Alexander kissed her, his tongue dueling with hers in erotic sensuality as he eased her away and off the chair they were sharing. He drew back, and rose, his hands divesting himself of his trousers with a swiftness and made Amberlaine grin wickedly. “Now who is eager, my master.” His hand closed over the smooth, impressive length of his erection and he stroked the

solid flesh several times, exulting in the pleasing sensation. He continued the motion as she began to shed her lovely gown, and the layers of undergarments. When she was gloriously naked before him, he turned her back to him and she grabbed the arms of the chair as he forced her to bend over. “Spread your legs for me, pet,” he directed, his silken voice little more than a rasp of excited sound. When she did as he’d asked, he slid into her in a single powerful thrust, buried fully in her tight wet heat. Amberlaine’s groan of ecstasy caressed his senses, and he held her hips as he began to pound his hips into her lush, welcoming body. Their passion peaked quickly and they were curled together, gorged on blood and pleasure when a knock at the salon door drew them apart. “Mademoiselle Tarrant wishes to speak with you, Alexander,” Diana grinned as she awaited the master vampire’s decision. Amberlaine stood and gathered her clothing. Alexander rose also, his elegant bearing as natural to him as breathing had once been. He smiled at the glitter of hunger that filled Amberlaine’s wide grey eyes as her look swept over him in open appreciation. “Tell her to go away,” Amberlaine whispered in an undertone that she knew would be heard by both her lover and the beautiful woman who stood in the doorway. Alexander laughed heartily at the decree and lightly kissed her lips before he dressed and followed Diana from the room. He stopped only long enough to close the door firmly behind him. Amberlaine stood rigid with fury and glared at the solid sheet of wood that now separated her from the man she loved. **** Diana drifted into the salon an hour later and found Amberlaine absorbed in her painting. It was a talent Julian had discovered in the lovely woman and he had quickly become her teacher in refining the art they treasured. Diana frequently found them engrossed in talk of colors and techniques that meant nothing to her. “You spend many hours at this,” Diana noted as she attempted a peek at the canvas. “I enjoy it,” Amberlaine laughed. She knew Diana had been trying to get a look at this particular piece for several weeks, and she was now prepared to show it to the lovely brunette. “Alexander has told me that tomorrow would be your birthday,” Amberlaine began quietly. Diana’s eyes widened and curiosity filled her beautiful features. The redhead beckoned the other woman forward. “It is not much, Diana, but I would like to offer this as a gift to you.” Diana gasped softly as she was finally permitted to see the portrait. It was Julian, smiling and relaxed, as he rarely looked with anyone other than Amberlaine these days. “It is exquisite,” the older vampire whispered. It was without doubt a very accurate and complimentary likeness of the golden haired nobleman. Diana loved it. “I’m surprised you wish me to have it,” she said when she met Amberlaine’s grey eyes. “Why?” Amberlaine smiled gently. “You love him. I suspect as much as I love Alexander. It is a small thing, Diana, and I am glad it gives you pleasure.” “It does, Amberlaine. I will keep it, always.” Diana impulsively hugged the other woman and they both laughed in surprise at the action. They had not grown closer in the few years that Amberlaine had been with them, but understanding was slowly emerging between them.

“This was not what you were working on last night,” Diana challenged with a smile. “I know because the colors are not the same.” “I thought you were looking over my shoulder,” Amberlaine grinned. “Trying to, chérie,” Diana corrected with an amused shrug. “This,” Amberlaine rose and pulled back the black drapery that concealed the second painting that dominated her work corner. She was distinctly flattered by the quiet gasp of surprise that escaped Diana when she stepped closer. “I have done this one for myself, perhaps for Alexander, though I doubt he would want such a thing.” “You are wrong, Amberlaine,” Diana disagreed with inflexible certainty. “Very wrong. He will want this.” She reached out to brush a feather-like caress over the still slightly sticky canvas, enjoyed the rough textures beneath her fingertips. “What do you call it?” Diana knew the penchant all artists had for naming their creations. Amberlaine considered the question and shook her head. “I have no idea what it should be called.” “Ravissement Éternel,” Diana murmured with irony. “You reveal your passion for him in all you do.” Amberlaine heard the trace of whimsical humor in her voice and turned to stare at the painted figures. It was immediately recognizable that the pale couple was her and Alexander. Red hair cascaded down the curving back of the woman who arched into her lover’s embrace, and his silver-tainted dark head was turned to her neck as she clung to him in total abandonment. Their naked bodies were joined as they knelt on dark rumpled bedding, blackness surrounded them. A trickle of crimson blood stained the breast cupped in Alexander’s right hand, his left rested in the small of his lover’s back, pressed her more firmly to him. Only the two vampires shone from the darkness, oblivious to anything outside of their hunger for each other. “Is he still with her?” Diana’s eyebrow rose slightly at the anger revealed in Amberlaine’s too soft voice. “They are in the garden,” she answered quietly. “Why don’t you join them?” The hint of hidden suggestion drew Amberlaine’s eyes from the painting. She waited for Diana to continue. “You look… ‘hungry’, Amberlaine,” the other woman went on with a smile. “Perhaps you and Alexander could share a snack?” she finished with a wicked laugh. “Does he care for her?” Despite the desire not to betray her fear, it crept into the quiet query. Diana hissed in annoyance. “Of course not! If anything she amuses him to some extent. But Alexander rarely cares for anyone, Amberlaine.” Diana’s eyes flashed in irritation, then softened again after several moments. “He sees no woman but you, chérie, and that is a truth.” Amberlaine knew she was not being lied to. “I think I would like a walk in the garden,” she decided, and grinned back at Diana as the brunette nodded brightly. She was near the door when Diana’s voice stopped her exit. “Merci, Amberlaine.” “Thank you, Diana.” They shared a conspiratorial smile, then Amberlaine slipped from the house. ****

Amberlaine felt Alexander’s presence long before she spotted him. Melissa had linked her arm through his and stared up at the vampire with wistful, worshipful eyes as they walked the moonlit grounds. Amberlaine’s body twitched with desire as she allowed her gaze to wander freely over Alexander’s tall form. She knew he felt her look as acutely as a touch, and suppressed a low laugh when he led his mortal companion to a more secluded area of the garden. Silently, Alexander called her to his side. Amberlaine lingered in the shadows not far from the couple, and her smile grew amused and faintly contemptuous as she listened to the young woman’s frivolous attempts to entice Alexander’s interest. “You will come to the engagement party, won’t you, Alexander?” One perfect eyebrow rose and a teasing smiled curved his mouth. “I wouldn’t miss it,” he assured her. Melissa giggled delightedly and leaned closer to him. This time it was Amberlaine’s eyebrow that rose in eloquent disdain and anger. Alexander’s name was a rare gift, and it infuriated the lovely redhead to hear it so casually used by the child at his side. Alexander’s mental command stilled the torrent of rage that threatened to erupt from his lover. He followed the order with a softer emotion, a sensual promise that caressed her injured heart. He drew Melissa into a light embrace as he again lured Amberlaine to him. The young blonde in his arms again murmured his name softly and closed her eyes when the long fingers of Alexander’s hand smoothed a gentle touch to the contour of her cheek. She tilted her head upward, coquettishly seeking his kiss. Amberlaine’s smile was wild with erotic pleasure when she slid her hand into the girl’s hair and gripped her neck in a steely clasp. Amberlaine’s other hand removed Alexander’s fingers from Melissa’s face and brought his palm to her lips. She kissed the cool, pale flesh then held the girl in place as she leaned past Melissa’s shoulder to meet Alexander’s descending mouth. The gasp of fright that escaped their captive was intoxicating to the aroused vampire, and Amberlaine deliberately deepened the oral caress, her tongue exploring with familiar hunger. Melissa tugged at the firm grip that held her trapped between the charming man and his mistress. She knew Amberlaine’s place in Alexander’s life, and had made it clear that she fully intended to be rid of the red-haired bitch at the first opportunity. Amberlaine’s fingers dug deeper into the curve of her shoulder, and Melissa whimpered softly and tried to seek shelter in Alexander’s arms. She choked back a startled sob when Amberlaine suddenly shoved her roughly into Alexander’s embrace. Amberlaine laughed out loud, the sound tainted with derision and dark pleasure. Her look again swept over Alexander and she shivered. “I do adore you, my love,” she reflected, so quietly that only Alexander’s vampiric senses would truly hear the words. The master vampire smiled at the assertion, reached out a pale, long fingered hand to brush aside the unruly locks of coppery hair that partially obscured Amberlaine’s beautiful features. “Make her go away, Alexander!” Amberlaine’s laughter was more dangerous this time, and she stepped closer to the woman who cowered at her lover’s side. Alexander’s silent directive kept her from tearing the girl’s heart out where she stood.

“She is a foolish, impudent brat,” the redhead decreed in a voice that was low with contained rage. “Perhaps she will make a decorative pet?” “Amberlaine.” She demurred to the warning but went to his side. She smiled at the frightened girl. “She is quite pretty.” This time her words elicited no response from Alexander. Amberlaine ran a hand through Melissa’s golden blonde hair, and grey eyes snared brown, then drew the mortal’s will inward. “So, you want to be his, Melissa?” Amberlaine began in a hypnotic parody of lilting song. “You think you can replace me, make him forget my love? You have no understanding of what it is you ask for. Shall I tell you how to please him? No?” Amberlaine laughed again, this time the sound was little more than a rumble of aroused longing that rose from deep inside her. “I think perhaps I will show you what Alexander enjoys.” Alexander’s smile was indulgent and thoroughly amused. He knew his lovely vixen had created a bond with the terrified girl who now clung to him with futile desperation. He was also enjoying Amberlaine’s wicked humor at the child’s expense. Amberlaine’s eyes never left Melissa’s as she began to slip free of the layers of her clothing. When she was down to the thin silk of her shift, she looked away and trembled when she read the awakened lust in Alexander’s hazel gaze. He disentangled Melissa’s hold, and Amberlaine leaned in to him. Her head fell back as her entire body shook at the light caress of his hands gliding over her from shoulders to waist and back up to cup her soft breasts in his palms. Melissa’s sob of rejection went unnoticed by the woman in Alexander’s arms as he pulled Amberlaine into a kiss that made her moan with desire. Long moments later, Amberlaine stepped back and pushed the girl to her knees next to them. Then she reached for Alexander’s rich clothing. He was naked within minutes and Amberlaine’s voice became a growl as she skimmed her hands over the pale perfection of the ancient vampire’s body. Alexander’s hands tangled in her hair and the slight pressure he exerted directed her to her knees next to Melissa. Amberlaine’s mouth closed over his rigid cock and his eyes turned to golden flames as he stared down at the huge brown gaze that was riveted on them in pure, horrified revulsion. He smiled, fangs extruded and gleaming in the silvery moonlight that bathed them in cool radiance. He laughed when Melissa tried to scream and was unable to utter a sound. Amberlaine’s mental hold refused to allow the shriek. Eventually, with obvious reluctance, Alexander drew his lover’s head back and he knelt beside her, the chilled damp grass beneath them something of which he took no note. Amberlaine twisted anxiously when Alexander lowered her onto her back and snared her gaze with his. The wash of flickering hazel and gold beauty left her trembling and pleading as she begged him to take her. She shuddered again when he removed the silk shift she still wore then stared down at her naked body. Alexander’s deep resonant voice was a caress as he soothed her with promises and endearments. The stroke of his tongue at her throat was swiftly followed by the dizzying elation of his possession. Their bodies became one and she growled hungrily as his sharp fangs pierced her skin. She arched into him, her legs tangled with his and her hips rose to meet the rhythm of his passion— Melissa Tarrant was forgotten… ****

Alexander knew the instant Amberlaine’s inexperienced bond was broken. Melissa’s scream filled the night and echoed as the girl scrambled away from them. Amberlaine writhed under him, clung with frenzied lust as she found his neck and bit deeply. Alexander allowed the child to run as his body answered its own need and he buried himself in Amberlaine’s heated flesh. She was oblivious to anything but their lovemaking as their voices merged in growls of satiation. **** “You shouldn’t have terrorized her, pet,” Alexander murmured as they stared up at the star-dotted sky. She stretched next to him, the shift a sinuous glide of ivory-white limbs and silken hair. Alexander’s fingers raked the heavy mane of coppery tresses that spilled onto his chest and shoulder. “I merely showed her what she believed she wanted, bien-aimé,” Amberlaine purred contentedly. “Though I doubt she will see you in quite the same way now.” “You’ve become a deliciously wicked slut, Amberlaine,” he smiled. “But,” ice came into his eyes and his tone, and he saw her recoil instantly. When she tried to pull away from him, he held her firmly in place. “You permitted her escape, and she did see us as we are.” “What do you want me to do?” Amberlaine shuddered next to him. She knew she’d made a grave error when she’d lost her control of the mental bond she’d forged with Melissa. She also knew that had he wanted to, Alexander could easily have prevented the child’s flight. “What do you think you should do?” he wondered. He suspected he already knew what her answer would be; her hiss of disdain confirmed it. “I should tear her throat out for daring to touch you,” she snarled in open fury. Alexander’s laughter was delighted. “So fiercely protective, my pet,” he murmured softly. “Or is it possessiveness that makes you seethe with indignation?” She bit back the response his taunt begged for, then turned glittering eyes to his. Her look slowly shifted, moved over the long limbs of his body. She never tired of looking at him, touching him. Alexander was perfection to her, and the slightest glance at him could often turn the blood to fire in her veins. “Should there be a next time I may be forced to kill her for her effrontery,” Amberlaine decided as she slid over his hips and sat up. Her hands splayed across his chest as she bent to place a soft kiss above his heart. When she leaned back her fingers glided over the curve of his hipbones and continued to caress the smooth, hollowed contours as she waited for him to reply. “Effrontery?” Alexander mused. “An intriguing idea, pet.” Amberlaine smiled. “She will undoubtedly think it all a bad dream.” Alexander knew better. He dismissed Melissa Tarrant from his thoughts and brushed his thumbs across the hardened nipples of Amberlaine’s breasts before he pulled her down to meet his sensual kiss. She shifted above him and bit into his bottom lip as their bodies joined again.

Chapter 7 “What has happened to Melissa?” Diana softly asked the following evening when she entered the library and found Amberlaine alone. “She has decided that Alexander is not the man for her,” the redhead replied with a darkly impish smile. “Ah…” Diana contemplated the information for a second then laughed quietly. “You made a most persuasive argument no doubt.” “She made a serious error in judgment,” Alexander’s voice was a chilling breath of air that preceded him into the room. His look offered no more warmth than his tone had, and both women cast uneasy glances at him as he took a seat in front of the fire. “I…” “You were foolish,” he snapped. “What do you want me to do?” Amberlaine asked her voice edged with bitter anger. Alexander’s eyebrow rose and he stared at her long enough to make her spin away from him, fists clenched at her sides. Her rage filled the space that separated them. “Alexander, don’t be tiresome,” Diana stepped in. “Melissa Tarrant is a problem easily solved.” “And what of Amberlaine?” “Amberlaine is a problem you wish to indulge, chéri,” Diana replied with a laugh. “Merci beaucoup, Diana,” Amberlaine muttered in an undertone. The beautiful brunette smiled broadly at the sardonic tone, and she shrugged as Amberlaine sighed heavily and waited for Alexander’s response. “Julian is taking me to the city tonight, Alexander,” Diana went on when several moments of silence passed. “We will be gone for a few days.” “Enjoy yourself,” he answered, his tone bored. His gaze was solidly locked on his unhappy lover’s face. Diana felt a tiny shudder of unease brush her spine, and her eyes were serious and concerned when she glanced at Amberlaine. Alexander cherished the woman, but there was something decidedly amiss between them for the first time since he’d brought her into their elite company. She shook off the momentary worry and left the room. “You haven’t answered me,” Amberlaine pointed out once they were alone in the library. “You lack discipline, pet,” he whispered. “That may get you killed.” “How many ways must I apologize, Alexander?” she pleaded. “I did not mean…” She whirled away again then sat at the large desk that dominated one end of the room. Her hands brushed over the smooth wood and she smiled unconsciously as her mind was filled with the lingering traces of Alexander’s powerful presence. Alexander watched her expression soften and shook his head. She absorbed his essence from the very air around them, and thrilled at the slightest hint of him. He’d never seen this absolute adoration in any woman he’d ever known, and he had known many during his vast lifetime. He rose and went to stand in front of the desk. Her eyes met his instantly and he smiled down at her. “I think we’ll hunt in the next town tonight,” he smiled, then laughed at the light that

gleamed behind her grey gaze. She rose and quickly circled the desk to stand before him. “Am I forgiven?” she questioned softly when she slipped into his embrace and wrapped her arms around his waist. “It is a mistake you will not make again, Amberlaine,” he assured her. “You have many lessons yet to learn, pet.” “As long as you are the teacher of all of them,” she whispered with a shiver. “I have enjoyed our ‘lessons’ a great deal, mon bien-aimé,” she purred seductively. “You’ve only been versed in the more pleasant ones,” he warned softly. “Though you have been a delightful student,” he added with a seductive smile. “I am sorry,” she whispered quietly, her eyes emphasized the sincerity of her decree. “I will make her forget how she saw us, Alexander.” He nodded, pulled her into his arms and enjoyed the feel of her generous curves pressing tightly to him. When her hands began a familiar trek over his back, he laughed and stepped away from her. “Later,” he promised with a smile. **** “How is she, Doctor?” The young physician shook his head and closed the bedroom door firmly behind him as he stepped into the hallway. He gestured for the older man to precede him down the stairs, then followed in thoughtful silence. “Well, man, tell me!” Henry Tarrant demanded minutes later when they were seated, drinks in hand. “She’s received a great shock,” Benjamin Phillips replied nervously. “I am hopeful that in a few days she will recover, but I cannot be certain.” “Why? In God’s name! What has happened to my daughter, Ben?” “I wish I knew,” the younger man answered sadly. “She was so enamored of that arrogant…” he stopped, suddenly embarrassed that he had allowed his personal desires to so obviously override his professional judgment. “Is this man, DeLenoir, responsible?” roared Henry. “I’ll have him drawn and quartered if he’s harmed her in any way.” “Please, sir,” sputtered Phillips. “I simply don’t know. She was supposed to call on him several nights ago, but she remains loyal to him and defends him against any hint of impropriety.” “Then what is the problem?” “His mistress,” Ben sighed heavily as he let the hushed words hang in the air for a moment before he continued. “Melissa claims the woman is some sort of witch, that she has Alexander under a spell from which he cannot escape.” “Nonsense!” Henry snorted. He’d spent a good deal of time with DeLenoir, and did not think him the sort of man any woman could trifle with—including Tarrant’s beloved daughter. That he felt no warmth for the nobleman made Alexander’s lack of interest in Melissa a situation Henry welcomed. But DeLenoir’s mistress… He smiled, unaware of the leering shift of his expression until Ben coughed and looked away, his color deep red. “Amberlaine Calvert is as beautiful and wild a wench as they come, but she is no witch,” Henry stated firmly. “Could this sudden madness of Melissa’s be nothing more than jealousy?” he speculated with a dark glance in the direction of his daughter’s

upstairs bed chamber. “She is not used to being denied anything, or anyone she wishes.” “I really think it is more than simple jealousy, Mr. Tarrant,” Ben said. “She swears she saw the woman bite Monsieur DeLenoir and drink his blood.” “And what else does she claim to have seen?” Henry laughed. “She has been listening to the gruesome tales told to the servant’s children.” “Then you do not believe in vampires?” “Vampires?” Tarrant fell into the overstuffed chair that was placed next to the fireplace. His rotund frame shook with laughter. “Do you believe in such creatures, Ben? As a doctor, do you think a corpse can truly feed on the blood of the living and walk among them?” Phillips looked away. He believed precisely that. He also believed that Melissa was telling him the truth about Amberlaine. He’d seen the woman many times, always in Alexander’s company, and she was the most adoring companion he had ever beheld. Her eyes never left the nobleman, and she smiled only for him. Ben had been quite enchanted with her, until the December evening when he had seen her entwined in DeLenoir’s embrace, half naked against the other man’s body. Benjamin Phillips was the only son of a pastor, and such behavior was reserved for harlots and women unworthy of his attention. Yet, even now, the memory of her delicate features softened with erotic pleasure and her pale breasts exposed to DeLenoir’s caresses awakened Ben’s lust with shocking intensity. He hated himself for his weakness, and blamed her for it. “Do you think DeLenoir’s whore a vampiress, Benjamin?” The doctor started violently, dropped the glass of brandy he’d been toying with throughout the conversation. He avoided an answer by apologizing profusely for his clumsiness and proceeding to clean away the mess he’d made. He thought he’d escaped the need for a reply to Tarrant’s enquiry, until he realized the older man was standing next to him. “Well, Benjamin,” Henry queried, his tone filled with sarcasm. “Is that what you believe?” Benjamin turned away from Tarrant’s cold eyes, and he stared for several minutes into the roaring fire. The flames created images within his mind’s eye, Amberlaine’s smiling face beckoned, then transformed into the wild-eyed hunger of a starving animal. She laughed, and DeLenoir’s image solidified behind her. The shimmering-haired nobleman laughed with her, then drew her into his arms. The lovers entwined, and blood flowed freely between them… “Benjamin! For God’s sake, lad!” The physician shook off the witchcraft that clouded his vision. He finally rose from his knees and met Tarrant’s guarded stare. “She is exactly what Melissa claims, sir. And, she belongs to DeLenoir.” “Of course she does, boy!” “He made her what she is, I’m certain of it.” Ben was as startled by his words as Henry Tarrant appeared to be. Yet, in some part of his heart, he did know that he spoke the truth. Tarrant sighed. He had just heard confirmation of fears he’d held himself. He had seen many women like Amberlaine Calvert over the course of his fifty years, beautiful creatures who served men like Alexander DeLenoir, but never had he fallen under the enchantress’s spell. He lay awake at night, often, tormented by the desire to possess

Alexander’s mistress. He’d managed to separate her from the ebony-haired wraith on only one occasion, and she’d scorched him with the carefully contained force of her fury when he’d tried to lure her into a profitable tryst. Henry had even gone as far as to offer to keep her in the manner DeLenoir obviously chose to honor her with, and her laughter had become more scornful and contemptuous. Tarrant had vacillated between indignation and fear that she would tell her lover of his advances—despite his pompous self-importance, Henry did fear the cold nobleman. She had assured him the matter would be forgotten, and their secret. When DeLenoir did not come hunting him, Tarrant assumed she had kept her word. “Could this defense of the lady possibly rise from an interest in her?” Tarrant eventually speculated. It would be much easier to accept his own traitorous lusts if he accused Ben of sharing them. “Lady?” Benjamin sneered with shocking disdain. “She is no better than a common street whore.” Tarrant’s smile grew, and he clapped the younger man’s shoulder as he led him back to his seat before the fire. “Yes, you are right, of course, Ben,” he agreed with a conspiratorial smirk. “But what a lovely slut she is, boy. I can almost understand why this bastard, DeLenoir, would chose to remain within her spell.” “And what of Melissa?” Ben demanded, his outrage clear. “What of her?” Tarrant shrugged in mild confusion. “She won’t have anything more to do with him, or his friends. I took her in hand once over this man, I’ll do so again. And, this time she will obey me,” he concluded with a note of finality that boded ill for his child should she attempt to defy him. “She won’t agree to that, sir,” Ben said with quiet surety. “She is too enamored of Monsieur DeLenoir to stop seeing him. I believe she’s asked him to attend Anne MacIntyre’s engagement party, as her escort.” “Rubbish,” Henry muttered. “He’ll not attend anything at the side of my daughter.” “We must destroy them, sir,” Ben offered after several minutes of strained silence had engulfed the room. “Destroy them,” Henry repeated, his annoyance surfaced and spread a florid stain across his blunt features. “We’ve barely had time to forget the Witch Trials, and you expect me to support another hunt—for vampires! Have you truly taken leave of your senses, boy?” “I will not allow him to further harm Melissa,” Ben decreed. “He won’t!” Tarrant snarled. “Forget this madness, Benjamin. Because madness it is. If they are as you believe them, it is we, not they, who will suffer if we make a move against them.” Benjamin bit back the retort that sprang to his lips. He shifted uneasily beneath the piercing gaze of Henry Tarrant, and slowly he nodded his acceptance of the older man’s decision. At least on the surface. In his heart, he began to plot the destruction of DeLenoir and the bewitching whore who served him with such devotion. **** “The house feels so empty without them,” Amberlaine mused as she rose from the piano and wandered the candlelit salon.

“Without them, or without Julian?” Alexander asked with cool enquiry. He watched her eyes narrow in irritation as she turned to face him. Amberlaine went to stand before him and dropped to her knees at his feet. She leaned her elbows on Alexander’s legs and smiled up at him, her fleeting annoyance already forgotten. “Julian is a charming friend, Alexander,” she conceded softly. “But, there is no one else in my heart, bien-aimé. No man could make me forget you, even for a moment.” Alexander laughed at her sincerity. “Such an eager pupil,” he murmured as he pulled her into his lap. “Always, my lord,” she agreed. Her lips touched his temple, then drifted lower to linger at his neck. Her tongue caressed cool flesh, and she felt her fangs elongate. She bit gently, shuddered as the familiar sweet tang of Alexander’s blood washed down her throat. She swallowed the intoxicating elixir, and drew back. The gleam of hunger in his brilliant hazel eyes created another tremor within her. “I think it’s time we found a worthy opponent for our hunt,” he whispered. “I want to take him as we did Thomas,” she told her master. The light in her eyes easily matched the hunger in Alexander’s mutating gaze, but the distinct glitter of encroaching madness also hovered in the pale grey depths. She was more and more Alexander’s child with each night that passed, and her macabre passions had begun to mirror his with appalling frequency. “You simply want me, do you not, my pet?” he teased. When her only reply was delighted laughter, he nodded. “Let the hunt begin, ma chérie.” He kissed her firmly, then they rose and flew into the night. **** Amberlaine flung her arms wide and whirled around and around as her laughter filled the near silence of the pre-dawn atmosphere. Alexander watched her, his expression softened with indulgent amusement. The trees were dense here, and the night still deep. He knew if they continued to linger, they would soon be forced to seek shelter within one of the caverns that were secreted in the heavy forest. His thoughts ended abruptly when Amberlaine pushed him back against the broad trunk of a massive oak and pressed herself tightly to him. “Thank you, Alexander,” she breathed happily. Alexander laughed quietly and pulled her closer as his mouth descended on hers. The taste of the farmer’s blood was still fresh on her lips and he growled hungrily when she bit softly into his tongue. His hands loosened the ties of her bodice and freed the fullness of her breasts. His fingers caressed and teased as she ground her hips into his. “You are insatiable, pet,” he murmured minutes later before he lowered his head and his fangs penetrated the smooth flesh of her breast. She shuddered in his arms and her head fell back as a moan of aroused passion slipped from her parted lips. “Make love to me, Alexander,” she pleaded. Alexander laughed again as he drew back and stared into her glowing gaze. He grinned as she began to haul heavy skirts upward to bare smooth ivory thighs. As always, she wore nothing beneath the voluminous folds of material, and he reached under the yards of flowing silk to lift her and reverse their positions. He leaned into her, cushioned against the softness of her willing body, and bent to cover her mouth with his. Their lips

never touched. Pain exploded throughout the ancient vampire’s body, lit a trail of destroying fire along limbs that hadn’t known such anguish in a thousand years. He screamed, his back arched, and he whirled away. The single step he attempted brought the agony to more certain life. Amberlaine’s shriek faded in his ears, and he was distantly aware of the snarl of her fury as he fell to his knees. **** Amberlaine’s fangs gleamed and her eyes held the enraged madness of a rabid animal as she leaped toward the man who had dared to attack her lover. The crossbow was still held level in eerily steady hands. The ash bolt was buried in the upper thigh of Alexander’s right leg. She had the assailant on his back in the space of a heartbeat, and was moving to tear out his throat when Alexander’s weak “Amberlaine!” stopped her action. She turned and her grip tightened convulsively on the man she held captive. “Release him!” she hissed at the men who now stood over the fallen vampire, flaming stakes well-aimed and ready to plunge into Alexander’s heart. “It is you who will release your prisoner, whore!” Benjamin decreed, his youthful voice harsh with contempt. “Unharmed,” he added quickly. “Or, your lover will die much sooner than you would wish.” Amberlaine allowed herself to look at Alexander. The vampire made no move to advise her, his outward expression remained passive and bland. She felt the pain that pulsed through his body, but it was not visible in the fathomless hazel eyes that looked back at her, only faint expectancy and curiosity was revealed by the flickering colors of his gaze. Furious and terrified, Amberlaine flung the man aside and stood. She glared at the number of men who suddenly filled the clearing. The sun was beginning to rise, she felt the telltale tingle of danger caress the back of her neck. She glanced at Alexander and saw the knowledge reflected in his eyes. They will not kill us, pet, his mind whispered to her. At least not right away. “What do you want, Benjamin Phillips?” she demanded. “Your life, whore,” he hissed, and his heated, fanatical gaze swept over her. Amberlaine felt the twisted longing that burned in the young man, understood that his hatred of her rose more from his lust than anything else. He hated her because Alexander claimed what he could not. “You don’t wish to kill me, Benjamin,” she whispered with a soft smile. “And there is no need.” “You are already dead, bitch.” Her eyes narrowed, and Alexander’s cool caress touched her mind, stilled the torrent of angry words that rose to her throat. “You are making a grave error, Benjamin,” she promised with unwavering conviction. “You will not kill me, nor Alexander. But you will die for this madness.” Alexander’s silent scream exploded in her mind, and she felt the wash of unbearable pain paralyze her. Gasping, Amberlaine fell to her knees, moaning softly. She began to crawl toward Alexander, and was hauled away from him. Horrified, she shrieked in terror when the smell of burnt flesh drifted to her on the morning breeze. Alexander’s head turned and Amberlaine’s hands rose to her mouth in

an age-old gesture of disbelief and heartbreak. Her mind recoiled in abject fright, but the picture did not change, Alexander’s brilliant, vibrantly alive eyes had been replaced by charred, blackened holes. She felt weak and sick as she slowly fell back and turned away, unable to face what had been done to him. His voice was shaken within her mind, as he tried to offer her strength and resolve. The sun was penetrating the leafy boughs that had kept them sheltered. As she lay sprawled on the ground, the widening shaft of a faint beam found her exposed back. She bit her lip until she tasted her own blood, and rolled onto her back. The cool ground gave her a momentary respite from the searing sunlight. She turned again, sought Alexander. He’d been moved. The hunters were dragging him into the shadowed mouth of a cavern. She laughed, the sound filled with bitterness and contempt. They didn’t want him to die until they’d visited more pain upon him. As she watched their actions, she vowed that it would be their fatal mistake. A whimper escaped her when she was suddenly yanked to her feet and pushed after her lover and his captors. She stumbled and cried out when one of the fire brands prodded her with a fleeting touch to her bared shoulder. She whirled, fangs extruded, feral eyes wild with rage. When she would have launched at the young man who dared to strike her, she was stopped by another choked groan of pain from Alexander. “The next one will end his life, Amberlaine,” Benjamin promised with deviant calm. She looked over her shoulder and felt the rage within her reach new levels of hatred. They had driven one of the burning stakes into Alexander’s wrist, and held it as they awaited her surrender. It was the only way they could exert any control over her, and they knew it would be effective. She ran toward the fallen vampire and almost reached him before another flaming spear blocked her passage. She growled wildly and made a grab for the bearer of the weapon. “No!” She winced at the unmistakable plea in Alexander’s hoarse whisper. His agony stilled her action and she collapsed inside the cavern’s mouth, her gaze riveted to Alexander’s contorted features. “Remove the stake, Benjamin,” she demanded. The smoldering and blistering had crept up to Alexander’s elbow. When no one moved, she looked up at Phillips. “Please?” She begged, without shame or hesitation. “Do not continue to hurt him further. PLEASE!!” Benjamin walked to the captive vampire and pulled out the stake. He made no attempt to be gentle, and she shook her head in anguished rejection when a shudder of agony visibly rippled the long length of Alexander’s body. “Cover yourself, whore,” he ordered coldly. His eyes swept over her, and he felt the familiar burn of humiliation and disgust when his body responded vividly to the sight of her naked breasts. Her gown was torn and when she’d fallen it had crumpled around her, left shapely legs open to their collective leers. Benjamin wanted to feel those lovely limbs wrapped around him… Alexander laughed, his normally silken voice a rasping parody of itself. He turned, blinded eyes eerily sighting on the agitated man who silently ached to possess his lover. “Silence, monster!” Phillips shouted and raised his arm to bury the stake in

Alexander’s heart. “NO!!” Amberlaine sprang forward and caught Benjamin’s wrist as it began to lower. She tumbled with him as he fell back, and the stake clattered noisily and rolled away from them. Without thinking, she spun again and knelt at Alexander’s side. Her hands gently caressed his face and she kissed his charred eyes. “Alexander… bien-aimé… mon amour…” She placed her head on his chest, oblivious to the enraged protests around her. “I love you, Alexander. Please, mon chéri, tell me what I must do?” The words were a rush of frantic, desperate whispers. Seconds later she was dragged off him, shrieking and snarling like a deranged animal unleashed. It wasn’t until they once again drove the solid ash stakes into Alexander’s weakened body that she stopped fighting them and permitted herself to be chained. Crimson tears flowed freely from her eyes when they hauled the master vampire awkwardly to his feet and bound him against the rock wall of the cavern. Blood trickled from the thin staves of wood that nailed him to the stone more effectively than any chain ever could. His pain arced across the space that separated them, and she felt madness tease the fringes of her sanity, pushing her ever closer to an invisible edge.

Chapter 8 Julian shuddered violently, the intensity of his pleasure suddenly overshadowed with unbearable agony. Beneath him, Diana’s cry mutated from exquisite elation to anguish, and she screamed, spasming in the backlash of searing agony that tore into their minds. Julian fell away from her, rolled onto his back and shut his eyes against the cresting wash of sickness that teased his throat and threatened an illness he hadn’t experienced in centuries. “Alexander!” Diana gasped seconds later, her voice shaken and weak. “He is dying.” The denial rushed to Julian’s lips, instinctive rejection of the impossible. He never spoke the words aloud. Deeper still was the certainty that Diana was right. For endless moments he considered the implications of what they were sensing. How long had he wanted this? Alexander’s hold on his life was an oppression unlike anything he could ever have imagined. He frequently hated the ancient vampire. And, in spite of his loathing, he also knew he loved DeLenoir as devotedly as Diana always had. “It’s almost dawn,” he said, distracted by the awareness of their inability to do anything for many hours. “We have to help him, Julian,” Diana cried, half in anger, half in pain. “We will, my love,” Julian soothed softly. “We will. But destroying ourselves will achieve nothing. Alexander will survive a single day’s passage. We will reach him at sunset, Diana.” She stared at him, prepared to argue, then nodded with visible reluctance. Logic was absolute, and he had presented her with perfect reasoning. “Amberlaine is with him, cheri,” she whispered, frightened again when she considered the possible implications of that observation. She looked to Julian, blue eyes asking for something she couldn’t clearly define. “I know,” Julian murmured. “I can feel her, a shadow in the background. She’s enraged by what is happening to them, but not yet afraid for their lives.” “She’s young!” Diana spat with near contempt. “She doesn’t know enough yet to be properly afraid of whatever is destroying them.” Julian gathered her close to him, shuddering when another of the crushing waves of fire and pain rippled through his body. Diana whimpered quietly and buried her face in his neck, their passion of minutes earlier now a distant memory. **** Amberlaine watched the small group of men, her rage growing with each blow they rained upon her beloved master. Alexander’s strength was wavering as the endless attacks went on and on, his body battered by strikes that would have killed a mortal man a dozen times over. They weakened him further by anointing their clubs with Holy water and carving crosses into the heavy ash wood. The bludgeoning felt endless. And, all the while, Amberlaine was forced to watch, a chained animal, awaiting her own turn at torment and assault. So far, all they had done to her was stake her to the ground. It was Alexander they truly hated, and he bore the full force of their fear and rage, made

helpless by their cowardice before they would unleash the violence they craved. She catalogued their names, stored them deep in her heart, and vowed silently that each and every man present would die a slow, horrible agony to equal their current brutality. She knew them all, had danced with some of them at the parties they so enjoyed. Some had daughters and wives who were enchanted by both Alexander and Julian, which, she suspected, was their primary reason for becoming part of Benjamin’s blood hunt. He was motivated by his narrow perception of protecting a woman he fancied himself in love with, too. Melissa Tarrant. A spoiled young bitch with no true understanding of what it could be to love someone and be willing to give up everything. She looked upon Alexander as a conquest, not knowing he could never be conquered by any woman’s wiles. Amberlaine planned a special kind of revenge for Melissa, since it was her fault they suffered their present agonies. Her attention was jerked back to the immediate when Caleb Winslow’s shout of anger reached past her mental plotting of vengeance. “You can’t simply kill them, Ben!” he said, for what appeared to be another time. She hadn’t heard his words the first time. “They’re already dead, for God’s sake!” Phillips retorted, his eyes holding a faint madness when he dared to look at Amberlaine. He was standing over Alexander’s unconscious body, a stake prepared to drive deep into the vampire’s heart. Tiny flames licked at the charred wood, inching upward as his wrist was held in a solid grasp by Caleb. Winslow was the oldest man in the group, and he’d seen the insanity surrounding the Witch Trials. He wasn’t quite as eager as his younger companions to begin another reign of terror among the people. “Then leave them to God’s justice, boy!” Caleb snapped, rewarded when others in the small group mumbled agreement. “Ben,” he continued, this time in a tone more reasoning, “do you really want murder on your conscience?” Ben glanced again at Amberlaine, his desire written vividly on his tormented countenance. “Sunset is hours away, Benjamin,” Ezra Deakins pointed out in his quiet, gentle way. “If they are as you say, they will die in that time. We need not become killers ourselves. Caleb is right. Leave them to the Lord’s punishment.” Before Phillips could raise further objections, the other men closed around him, pulling him out of the cavern. The sunlight was blinding after the shadowy hours spent inside the cave, and they blinked rapidly, each man casting furtive glances in the direction of the weakened vampires. Amberlaine’s voice was clearly audible in the uncomfortable silence, promising death in a humming, maddened voice that rasped on jagged nerves. Benjamin closed his eyes and dragged in great gulps of air, desperately searching for calm and peace. It continued to elude him, and he was hardly aware of his friends tugging at him again, carefully leading him from the clearing and it’s unsettling memories. **** Amberlaine peered intently at Alexander, reaching with her soul to find some sign of life within him. Despair threatened her sanity further when she felt no responding awareness from the mutilated husk that only hours before had been the dynamic, compelling nobleman she adored. Silently, she screamed, a dirge of mourning that shot

outward and reverberated in the very air around them. The wetness of tears stung her cheeks and she collapsed further, oblivious to the pain that emanated from her staked limbs, consumed fully by the death of her lover. Hours passed, each minute an eternity that permitted her to sink deeper and deeper into dementia. The men of Boston died a thousand horrible deaths in her fertile imagination. Promises, oaths, and ravings poured forth in a steady stream of cursing hatred. Alexander made no response to her presence and her repeated pleas to him. Time passed in a hazy blur of pain and fear, until it became indeterminate. Amberlaine waited now, wishing for death, for a true end. And, somewhere in her mind, she knew her wish would not be granted. The stain of sunlight had spread across the clearing and was now seeping more fully into the protective shadows. As she watched, that, too, seemed unable to stir panic within her. She was waiting with near welcome when blackness broke the ever-expanding pool of golden radiance that she’d been tracking with maniacal vigilance. Her eyes rose, the response involuntary, hope still a faint thread coiled around her heart. The sensation of bile rose in her throat, and she forcibly maintained her stillness, feigned death before he knew that she had seen him. Benjamin Phillips stood over the dying vampire woman he had longed for and dreamed about. A quick sidelong glance assured him that Alexander DeLenoir was well and truly dead now, but he wasn’t as certain of Amberlaine’s passing. He knelt next to her, his hand reaching out to touch her neck. Sharp, smoke-grey eyes opened suddenly and he pulled his hand back. The hatred and rage that burned in the flickering depths of her gaze frightened him, despite his knowledge that she was in no way able to hurt him. Angry at his fear, he reached out a second time, and let his fingers smooth over the gentle curve of her breast. His breath caught in his throat for a moment, then he dared to pull aside the silk of her ruined gown and bared her skin to his touch. “You would dare this?” Amberlaine hissed, her calm control born in an anger that went well beyond something as simple as rage in spite of her helplessness. “Who’ll stop me?” Ben snarled, furious that she dared to speak to him. “Him?” He laughed harshly. His hands became bolder, stroking curves and contours with a desperate, growing hunger. “I will kill you, Benjamin Phillips,” she vowed softly. Phillips slammed her head into the stony floor of the cave, wincing at the crack of bone that sent a shock wave the length of his arm. She was silent, and his hands came away bloody. Ben whirled aside and threw up, retching violently. When it passed, he looked at her again. The desire was too strong, he had to touch her, to possess her as he had so many times in tortuous dreams. His hands shook, and he ignored it as he lifted her skirts and wrenched her legs wide apart. It was over quickly, and Phillips sprang away from her, hauling his trousers back into place as he tried to put distance between himself and the lovely woman he’d just violated. He cried for several minutes, silent sobs of bewildered anguish, then he rose to his feet and lurched toward the gaping entrance of the cave. When he looked back, he spotted the fallen nobleman he’d thought dead. Alexander’s head turned, charred eye sockets sighting on Benjamin as eerily as if DeLenoir’s brilliant hazel eyes were still a part of him. Alexander smiled, and turned away.

Phillips scrambled out of the cave and ran as if the devil himself was at his heels. **** Night fell quickly, darkness enhanced by the encroaching storm that was in the air. Diana and Julian emerged from their small, hidden home and melted into the blackness around them. As they moved in silence, Diana wondered if they would be too late. It was unthinkable to imagine life without Alexander’s extraordinary presence and strength at the core of all they did. Preternatural vision pierced the shadows, and they closed the distance quickly. Each felt the beacon of pain and agony that swirled in the night air. A glance upward assured Julian that it would be difficult for any mortal to track them. The moon had been abducted by the rapidly rising storm, cloaked and hidden from view by the shroud of clouds that spanned the vast night sky. Murkiness prevailed, and shielded them from any eyes that might have watched the cavern. Julian grabbed Diana’s arm when she would have charged into the cave with no hesitation. “Wait here,” he ordered softly. “Watch. Closely.” She opened her mouth to object, thought the better of it, and nodded. “Hurry, mon cher,” she breathed. Julian swayed slightly when he entered the cave and saw his companions. He recovered instantly and called out to Diana. She joined him in the space of a heartbeat. “What kind of savagery is this, Julian?” she cried in revulsion. Her hands stroked a feathery caress over Alexander’s ruined face, and she gasped when a faint murmur intruded on her mind. “They live,” she told the younger vampire. “We have to get them to our house, Julian, then find food for them. Amberlaine is very near true death.” As she spoke, she tore the stakes from Alexander’s body. She lifted him into her arms and turned to see where Julian was; she nodded when he returned to her side, Amberlaine draped across his arms. Without a sound, they rose into the night sky and flew. **** Just before dawn, Benjamin Phillips crept back to the cave, his obsession pulling him back in spite of his desperate want to never step foot in the place again. He looked around, shaking uncontrollably when he realized the cavern was empty. The stakes remained, and the stains of blood. But there was no sign of the vampire couple he and his friends had destroyed. A scream rose inside him and fought its way free of his throat. The previously tranquil forest echoed for a long time with the unleashed terror that now resided in his soul… **** Several weeks later “What is it?”

Amberlaine looked up from the desk, her smile very slight. Julian completed his walk around to her side and leaned down to look at the single page on the gleaming desktop. They had returned to Alexander’s estate only a few days past, and this was the first time he’d seen her outside of Alexander’s suite of rooms. His relief was short-lived when he saw the list of names, stark against the pristine white of the parchment paper. Allan Simpson. Caleb Winslow. Ezra Deakins. Robert Logan. Kyle O’Reilly. David McKay. Julian recognized the absence of one name and the significance of those that were written on the page. A death roster. Those responsible for the monster in the upstairs rooms. “You intend to seek vengeance,” Julian said quietly, his regret obvious. Amberlaine glared at him, then softened the expression. “They wanted us dead, Julian,” she replied. “They would have gone after you and Diana before long. If it had been you they’d captured, you know he would destroy those who hurt you. You would kill to protect Diana. Why do you not understand why I want this? Why I need this?” “It will change nothing,” he reasoned, knowing as he spoke that it was in vain. She was too much Alexander’s creation to be swayed by something as absurd as humanity toward those who had almost destroyed him. The fact that he was recovering so slowly only fueled her thirst for the blood of his would-be murderers. She was nearly fully recovered herself, having endured a great deal less torture, and he saw no outward signs of the attack they’d been subjected to. Alexander was not so fortunate. He remained blind, though his body was regenerating, and his skin was still marred by burns and scars. He was able to rise from his bed, for short periods of time. Amberlaine was always with him during those brief spells of strength, and their conversation was sparse. Julian suspected a great deal was being said with no exchange of words, and her present mood confirmed it. “You are wrong, my dear friend,” she said gently, drawing his attention back to her. “It will make them fear to ever turn on us again.” “There will always be someone who wants us truly dead, Amber,” he assured her, tone heavy with irony. “Perhaps,” she murmured. Diana entered the room, a scowl marring her lovely features. “Is he awake?” Amberlaine asked. “Yes!” Amberlaine rose and ran for the stairs. **** Cool, clear air brushed over Amberlaine’s skin as she walked the dark back street, intent on finding a tavern called “The Haven”. The name was incongruous, and she smiled when she considered that it would be anything but a haven to the man she sought. Her gaze was drawn skyward and for a detached second she was captivated by the raw beauty above her. The silvery, night-tainted moon was a scythe shredding the smooth, star-studded velvet blanket of black. As she stared, her mind’s eye witnessed the bleeding of the shining orb in the sky, its silver brilliance dimmed by a film of crimson slowly draining over its pocked surface.

Noise penetrated the illusion, and her attention was abruptly shifted to the entrance of the bustling tavern. She smiled, and waited… **** Benjamin Phillips paced in Henry Tarrant’s cozy study, his agitation a near-tangible entity sharing the space with the small group of men who’d gathered there. He whirled, eyes alight with genuine terror. “You didn’t see him, Henry!” he all but shouted. “He was gutted and strung up like a side of beef. But there was no blood. It had to be them. DeLenoir and his whore are behind it. First Ezra Deakins was found with his throat slit, and last night O’Reilly was killed!” Tarrant was as shocked as the other men present, but he wasn’t as prepared to blame Amberlaine Calvert for the gruesome deaths of his friends. Just as he hadn’t been prepared to join Benjamin on his quest to rid them of the mysterious nobles who’d been part of their social circle a mere month earlier. Melissa had recovered fully from whatever shock she’d suffered at DeLenoir’s hands, and Tarrant now wanted to wash his hands of the entire business. Alexander hadn’t been seen in weeks, nor had his beautiful mistress. Julian and Diana had all but vanished as well, though they occasionally attended a party or special celebration. They didn’t, at any time, speak about their absent companions. “We brought it on ourselves,” Caleb Winslow stated with a weary sigh. “I should have known better. My Alice hasn’t been speaking to me ever since DeLenoir disappeared from the social circle. I think she had a fancy for him, and she blames me for no longer being able to see him.” “Your daughter will forgive you, Caleb,” Henry interjected kindly. “Mine has, though it took some time.” “What are we going to do about them?” Benjamin almost shouted in his frustration and fear. “Haven’t we done enough, Ben?” Allan Simpson spoke up. “Leave it be. Maybe they’ll forget and we can all go on with our business?” He tried, but he didn’t sound overly hopeful. Like the others, he knew in his heart that he had been marked for death. They all knew no bodies had been recovered from the cave, and he suspected there was more that they didn’t know. Benjamin Phillips hadn’t been the same man since they’d all foolishly agreed to follow him on his “vampire” hunt. If death didn’t find him soon, he’d become a lunatic anyway. It was already lurking in the too-bright gleam of his eyes. The arguments went on and on, the impasse total. **** In the stillness of the master bedroom of the DeLenoir estate, Alexander smiled and turned toward the open window. He felt the subtle shift of air that caressed his face, and in his mind, he formed the image of the shining jewel of the moon. Soon, he’d be able to actually see the world around him again. His mind reached, seeking into the night for the man he’d been haunting for weeks. He found his victim with appalling ease, and shaped the dream with malevolent pleasure…

Amberlaine shimmered to life before him and tugged at the belt of her robe. She shivered with pleasure when the satiny material slithered open, then, after a slight shrug, off her shoulders. The shining black material pooled on the desk and she arranged herself more comfortably, legs braced on either side of him, her feet on the arms of the chair, and her arms angled behind her as she leaned back. She laughed, the sound low, rough with longing. “What is it you really want, Benjamin?” she taunted sweetly. “Tell me?” she purred seductively. “Show me,” she whispered. Shaking, Benjamin’s hands caressed smoothly curved calves, then stroked silken thighs. She trembled in response to the evocative touch, and he watched her nipples harden to rigid points. Her eyes had already clouded with fierce hunger, and her body was tense with the excitement, the anticipation of his domination “What do you wish to discuss, Lady?” he enquired as he kissed the inner side of her knee. “Absolutely nothing,” she assured him instantly, then paused for several heartbeats. Benjamin’s eyebrows rose but he said nothing further. His lips moved from her knee, and leisurely brushed over the silken skin of her thigh before his tongue began a relentless, intimate exploration that quickly had her gasping and clutching the edge of the desk. The caresses evoked slow, choked moans from her before he lifted her off the desk and settled her astride his thighs. The firm swell of her breasts brushed against his chest and his hands moved to cup the lush, heavy softness, his thumbs teasing the sensitive tips before he bent to take one nipple between his lips. The study was rapidly spinning away from his awareness as Amberlaine clung to him, her fingers gliding over his hair as she shuddered against the steady pull of his mouth at her breast. Hidden from his sight, yet not in this macabre dream, her fangs elongated, and her eyes glowed with fire. “Please?” she whispered, pleading with him. He answered the entreaty with a low laugh and moved with a suddenness that made her cry loudly as he entered her. She spasmed violently in his arms, and he leaned over her, his hips driving her down onto the top of the desk. Her legs tangled around his waist and Benjamin rode her brutally as he sought the release his body craved. Inwardly, he laughed at the fury of the burning passion, she incited him to this madness and reveled in her power to enrage and inflame him at the same time. Amberlaine’s fingernails dug into his shoulders as she clung, and her hips answered each impassioned thrust of his, her entire body vividly aware of everything about him. Her scent filled his senses, the feel of her skin and the strength of her lithe, slender form brushed every nerve ending, and the rapt pleasure written in her features when he drew away from her made her shudder again in his arms. When his hands cupped her buttocks and held her tightly against him, she found the furious pulse in his neck. Her fangs opened the vein and she drank greedily, lapping at his precious life’s blood. Benjamin screamed in agony and terror, his fear mutating, to his horror, into a groan of near agonized gratification as he spasmed against her and she screamed her own blissful fulfillment… Benjamin woke amid a tangle of sweat-soaked sheets, his heart pounding furiously in his ears, his nightshirt wet with the evidence of his shameful lusts. He cried. ****

Alexander’s laughter was dark, tainted with perverse enjoyment. Satisfied, for the moment, he relaxed in his bed and let healing sleep wash over him… **** Henry Tarrant looked up from his newspaper, startled by the sudden appearance of his guest. A warning quivered deep in his heart, and he trembled before controlling the reaction and rising from his armchair. “Amberlaine,” he greeted, and gallantly kissed her hand when she walked toward him and stopped, extending the graceful limb with a smile that sparked greater fear in him. “It is a pleasure to see you again, my dear,” he gushed, ushering her to a seat on the settee. “It’s been much too long since you’ve graced our little circle with your presence.” He was babbling, but was unable to stop the rush of words. A furtive glance in the direction of the door brought a rush of tinkling laughter from her, and she clasped his hand and held him at her side when he would have crossed back to his just vacated chair. “Alexander is…” she paused then smiled again, and finished, “he is not well of late,” she explained with patently false amusement. “I thought it past time that I reacquainted myself with you and your lovely daughter, though, Henri,” she said sweetly. She looked around and turned appealing eyes back to him. “Is Melissa home tonight?” Henry freed his hand and went to pour a drink for himself. He didn’t offer one to her, she’d always declined in the past and he doubted it would change tonight. The mention of Melissa made him quake with fear for the girl. He knew what Amberlaine Calvert thought of his pretty daughter, and her pretense of friendliness worried him deeply. “She is at an engagement party, with her fiancé,” he told the beautiful woman who watched him with veiled contempt. He could feel her anger and her loathing, even as she pretended to enjoy his company. “How unfortunate,” Amberlaine shrugged delicately, then rose to go to his side again. “But of no concern, really,” she murmured suggestively. She brushed against Henry’s sleeve, deliberately teasing him with the soft curve of her breast close to his arm. “It was you I wished to see, Henri,” she purred softly. Tarrant took a step away from her, then halted when she snared his eyes with her intent gaze. He stiffened slightly, but was unable to look away. “Do you no longer wish to touch me, Henri?” she asked in a low, hypnotic voice. She tugged at the ribbons of her bodice, loosened the silken material and offered him a tantalizing glimpse of pale skin. “There was a time when you wanted nothing more than to make love to me,” she continued as she approached him again. Her hands were still working the tight lacings of her gown and she halted directly in front of Tarrant when she was certain he would no longer resist the desire to touch what he had so long coveted. In a distant corner of her mind, she was also aware of the arrival of a carriage outside the front doors of the house. As planned, her timing was perfect. She smiled, turning her radiant charm on the hapless Henry. “Alexander is no longer here to stop you, Henri,” she murmured. “You are free to take what you want, mon ami.” Henry’s eyes were fastened on the partially revealed fullness of Amberlaine’s breasts, and he dared a quick look at her before he finally lifted a hand to cup one firm swell with his palm. She gasped softly and leaned closer, encouraging his lust. Footsteps could now be heard in the hallway outside the study. Henry ignored the knock at his door,

fully occupied now with stripping open the lacy material that impeded his exploration of bare skin. He pushed the soft silk aside and bent to bury his face against the cool, flawless globes of Amberlaine’s ample breasts. His mouth sought one of her nipples, suckling greedily as she cooed incoherent words to him and stroked the back of his neck. Amberlaine turned them toward the door and smiled, her fangs aching with hunger as the heavy panel swung inward and she faced Melissa Tarrant. At the girl’s side, frozen with horror and rigid with what the vampire knew was jealousy, stood Benjamin Phillips. “Father!” It was almost a scream and Amberlaine’s grin turned to laughter when Henry merely twisted so that he could capture her second nipple with his teeth and suck loudly on the rigid bud. Benjamin ran across the room and hauled Henry bodily off the disheveled beauty who simply laughed again at them. She made no move to cover herself and her attention zeroed in on Ben with frightening swiftness. “There is no need to be so jealous, Ben,” Amberlaine said, “I’m sure we can all enjoy ourselves tonight. Do you not agree, Melissa?” she asked, watching the girl from the corner of her eye. “I’m sure Alexander will be most agreeable to such an arrangement. While I indulge your father’s lust, Alexander can plunder your virgin cunt. Or have you already given that pleasure to Benjamin?” She concluded with a wicked laugh. Phillips lunged for her and she caught him by the throat and flung him aside, only dimly aware of the crash of his body overturning furniture before he struck the wall with a solid thump and slid to the floor. Melissa’s scream was choked with the depth of her fright. Henry Tarrant had regained his feet and was once again attempting to wrap Amberlaine in his arms. She paid him no heed as his arms snaked around her waist, and she laughed with sincere contempt when Melissa’s eyes widened in revulsion at the sight of her father’s rough hands eagerly fondling Amberlaine’s pale flesh. “That’s enough, Henri,” Amberlaine said after a moment’s pause. She took his hands away and shoved him into a nearby chair. He was unconscious within seconds. “Now,” Amberlaine said as she straightened her gown. “Shall we go to Alexander, little one?” Melissa’s attempt to flee was aborted when Amberlaine’s will trapped the terrified girl and held her. She reached the girl’s side and slipped her arm around Melissa’s shoulders, then led her toward the rear of the house. They encountered no one who would remember their passing, and once they’d walked into the night, Amberlaine rose in flight and headed for home with her gift.

Chapter 9 “You can’t do this, Amberlaine!” Julian pleaded. “Why?” she snapped, furious at him for interrupting her. She glanced at Melissa Tarrant, who waited at the foot of the stairs, eyes vacant, trembling visibly in spite of her lack of real awareness of what was going on around her. “It’s not right,” Julian said, desperate to reason with her. “It’s justice,” she hissed back, and swept past him. “And I will see Alexander well again, if I have to kill every person in this accursed city to make it happen.” She grabbed Melissa and hauled her up the stairs to DeLenoir’s suite. “It’s her right to avenge him,” Diana’s soft voice interjected and Julian nodded, accepting what he knew he couldn’t change. Diana’s arms went around him and she held him tightly. “She loves him as much as I love you, Julian,” Diana whispered. “I would do nothing less if you had been their victim.” He nodded. “That doesn’t make it right.” **** “I’ve brought you a gift, my love,” Amberlaine announced as she entered the quiet, richly appointed bedroom. Alexander turned from the window, his hazel eyes once again whole, if not yet completely functional. “Melissa wishes to offer herself to aid in your recovery. A small price to pay for causing your pain, but all she is able to give you, I’m afraid.” “You are a wicked slut, my Amberlaine,” Alexander murmured as he came to her side. “Do you wish to share my gift, pet?” “No,” Amberlaine smiled. “She is all yours, mon bien-aimé.” Alexander sat on the edge of the mattress and beckoned Melissa to him. Tears slipped from her eyes and trailed glistening streaks across the contours of her cheeks, but she jerked forward, a puppet controlled by a master puppeteer. “You have spent a great deal of time away from me in recent weeks,” Alexander observed as he undressed his “gift” and enjoyed the feel of her virgin skin. To his healing eyes she was little more than a hazy, pale blur. “I have been rewarding our hunters for their vigilance, and you have been reaping the conquests with me, have you not?” Amberlaine enquired, one delicate eyebrow raised in unconscious imitation of him. “They have fed you well,” she noted, “a most fitting retribution.” “Most,” he agreed. “She is quite lovely,” he went on, his hands smoothing over Melissa’s slender curves, so unlike Amberlaine’s voluptuous sensuality. “Enjoy her,” Amberlaine replied tartly. “Though I doubt she would be able to satisfy your more refined appetites.” She watched him with the pretty young woman, curbed her instinctive rage at seeing his hands on someone else. Her body ached for him, for his blood and his passion. It had been much too long since he’d taken her to his bed. Much too long since he had been able to make love to her, a tiny voice corrected. And, this insipid little wench was the reason. Angered, she crossed the room and wrenched

Melissa’s head back, baring her neck in invitation. “Amberlaine?” Alexander’s query was filled with irony and amusement. He could once again sense the ever flowing shift of her thoughts and moods, and she was tolerating his curiosity about Melissa, but only just. “Feed, my love,” she snarled. “That is why I brought her here.” Alexander disentangled her fingers from Melissa’s hair and silently ordered the naked girl to a straight-backed chair near the window. He caught Amberlaine’s wrist and yanked her forward with unexpected strength and swiftness. She tumbled into him, sprawled across his body as they fell back on the bed. “I think I wish to feed another need first,” he decreed, and silenced her with a brutal kiss. He could smell Henry Tarrant on her skin and it angered him a great deal more than he would have thought possible before his recent ordeal. “Why can I taste Tarrant on you?” he demanded when his head lifted from her breast a short while later. “I was amusing myself while I waited for his daughter,” Amberlaine said icily. “I thought it a small reward to offer him, when weighed against what I was about to take from him for you.” Alexander smiled, an expression that held no warmth. “Then I shall enjoy both my prizes this night, pet,” he announced. A gesture of his hand brought Melissa to the bed and she obeyed his wordless command to lie next to them. When dawn finally tinted the distant eastern sky with pale pink and gold, Alexander’s eyes closed. Curled into his side, sated and adoring, Amberlaine sighed happily. On the far side of the bed, the body they’d fed from throughout their night of passion slowly drew her final breaths. Melissa Tarrant died before noon that day. **** “Why are we going to see Benjamin Phillips?” Amberlaine demanded, furious. She had hoped that they would leave Boston immediately. Julian and Diana were barely speaking to her, and she was tired of everyone around them. “I have a score to settle with him, pet,” Alexander stated. “First, I will return Henry’s daughter to him, then I will meet you at Phillips’ home in an hour.” “I won’t go.” Alexander’s fingers closed on her chin and he smiled, expression cold. “Yes, pet, you will. Don’t be tiresome.” He left without further words and Amberlaine glared after him. He had vacillated between rage at her recklessness and laughter at the outrageous thirst for vengeance that had made her kill repeatedly. They fought and made up with equal passion. Tonight, however, he had made it clear that he, too, had vengeance to seek, though he would not explain what it was that he wanted avenged. Weary to her eternally-damned soul, Amberlaine Calvert paced, sighed, then prepared to leave the house and meet Alexander as he’d ordered. **** “Henry, I’ve come to give your daughter back to you.” Alexander watched as the

drunken man before him fell to his knees, cradling the lifeless corpse Alexander had deposited on the small settee. “She was quite entertaining, my friend,” he continued conversationally. When Henry launched at him, Alexander laughed and let him charge. He caught Tarrant with no effort and hurled him into a chair, then went down on his knees before the man. His vibrant eyes, once again able to see with crystal clarity, locked on Henry’s terrified face and held his gaze. “We enjoyed her company, Henri,” he purred softly, and poured the savage, lusting images of the previous night into the alcohol-addled brain of Melissa’s father. DeLenoir knew the influx of degradation and horror enhanced visions would push the teetering Henry Tarrant over the edge into total madness. He didn’t bother killing the unfortunate fool before he left the household for the final time. **** “I see you’ve decided to join me after all,” Alexander commented as he came into Benjamin Phillips’ home and found Amberlaine waiting, with Phillips cowering and whimpering in the corner. “You did insist,” she retorted. “Though I don’t know why.” “Because my business with him concerns you, my dearest,” Alexander replied with a cool glance at Phillips. “She doesn’t remember what you did to her, Benjamin,” he informed the horrified man. “Will you tell her, or would you prefer that I make your confession?” Benjamin’s face lost all color and he stared in new terror at the two vampires. Amberlaine’s grey eyes glinted dangerously, and she looked from one man to the other as she awaited some answer. Time ticked by for several moments, then something in the ancient vampire snapped. Amberlaine stared, curious and thrilled by the sight of Alexander, maddened beyond reason. He ignored her and turned to grasp the staggering Benjamin. Her stomach lurched wildly, disbelief, horror, and revulsion all surfacing in a crashing wave as the master vampire’s talon like hand clutched Benjamin’s shoulder, bit into the flesh, and began to tear. Benjamin’s screeching keen of agony was long and loud, echoed with excruciating pain and terror. Amberlaine’s senses filled with the scent of fresh blood, and her eyes flared into golden fire as she watched the macabre destruction of this man who had been cringing before her mere seconds earlier. Alexander’s hands were slippery with gore as he completed the murder, the track of his wrath leaving a gaping, gushing wound that ran the entire length of Benjamin’s torso. He stopped at peeling back the layers of flesh and muscle to rip out the boy’s entrails. He dropped the body with a grimace of dark pleasure, then he turned to look at Amberlaine. Amberlaine shuddered, her fear as intense and profound as Benjamin’s had been moments ago. Alexander was terrible to look at, his hands dripped with blood, his eyes were wilder than she had ever imagined possible, and his clothes were drenched with crimson. He held out his hand to her, and she felt the order stab into her mind with agonizing force. She shivered and took a shaky step toward him. In that instant, something dark and insidious woke inside her, and she shuddered, her body suddenly more alive than it had been in ages. She wanted Alexander so much at that moment that it

was physical pain to do more than look at him, to silently beg him to take her. Amberlaine hesitated, her stomach twitched with a new emotion, and she was appalled to realize she was anxiously anticipating Alexander’s mercurial twists of mood and intent. He was still enraged, though it had little to do with her. She dropped to her knees in front of him, looked up at his face, transfixed by the inhuman beauty of his inflamed eyes. He touched her cheek, left a streak of red on the delicate curve, then he brushed his dripping fingertip over her quivering bottom lip. She opened her mouth and closed her eyes as he probed into that warmth, and permitted her to lick the blood from his finger. She began to suck on the slender digit, and Alexander pulled away from her. He unbuttoned his breeches and she smiled up at him, eagerness and twisted yearning lighting her eyes. “Remove your dress, pet,” he ordered softly, and waited only seconds to witness her eager concession to his directive. Alexander slid free of his clothes, and looked down at her as her gaze wandered over him. His chest was stained scarlet with blood, soaked from the shirt he’d just discarded, and that bloody wetness slithered over the smoothness of his pale flesh to get caught in the tangle of soft, dark hair that surrounded the base of his arousal. He laughed when Amberlaine again dropped to her knees and her tongue licked at the still warm blood. “I’ve missed you a great deal recently, my pet,” he purred sweetly as her mouth engulfed him and she began to suck rhythmically. Alexander pushed deeper into her mouth, felt the scrape of her fangs, and smiled darkly as she tried desperately to accommodate his wordless demand. When he felt his body begin to tremble with the need for release, Alexander pulled her away from him. He twisted her hair around his fingers, and slowly joined her on the floor. The metallic sweetness of blood was an aphrodisiac, and it taunted the hunger in him almost as much as the woman who quivered at his every touch. Her voice was erratic, shallow with lust, tainted faintly with fear. He couldn’t clearly discern which emotion was more appealing to him. Alexander pushed her to the floor, straddled her hips and placed her back into the pool of Benjamin Phillips’ blood. Streaming copper hair grew dark with gore as Benjamin’s blood fused with the silken waves. She squirmed beneath him, her hands groping for him. Alexander caught her wrists and tugged her arms upward until he could press her fingers into the oozing rend in the boy’s chest. She winced, the response involuntary, and her eyes locked with his. He smiled, then bent to one heaving breast and took the nipple between his teeth. After several long, sweet moments, Alexander eased back slightly and he released her wrists. She wouldn’t move until he permitted her to do so. One hand smoothed over the softly rounded plane of her belly then moved between her thighs. He slid a finger into her and his thumb teased with practiced skill as he probed her heated flesh. She arched against his touch, her body trembling violently, and she bit her lip, the taste of her blood something she didn’t notice. The scent of it combined with the other scents of the room, the bloodied corpse, the pungent smell of sex, and the aroma that was uniquely Amberlaine, wildflowers and sunshine. Alexander slipped his fingers free of her, then bent over her again, this time covering her body with his for a single moment before he would take her.

“Say it, Amberlaine,” he ordered harshly, his restraint thin as he held himself motionless above her. “Alexander…” She tried to resist his power, felt the tears that slid from her eyes, then closed them as she gave him what he demanded from her, total capitulation. “Please, Alexander, I love you.” “And I love you, pet,” he laughed, then thrust into her. She spasmed against him and her arms went around him as he began to move, the rhythm of his body hard and brutal. He was hurting her, and enjoying it tremendously. Amberlaine tried to escape him, to ease some of the unrelenting fury that was driving him. She knew he would give her pain to equal his own, and that was the only thing that kept her sane as he ripped open her throat and drank until she was no longer conscious in his arms. He’d finally said that he loved her, and some distant part of her understood that the perceived weakness was the source of his present rage. Alexander would concede need to no one, including Amberlaine. Not without exacting a price. **** Alexander left her on the floor next to the boy’s body. She was still unconscious, though he had assured himself that he hadn’t destroyed her. He walked to the nearby bed, and sat, his back braced against the headboard as he waited for her to wake. He didn’t bother washing the blood and gore from his body. He was still watching her when he heard the first sounds of people outside the house. Less than twenty minutes had actually passed since he’d killed Benjamin Phillips. It felt like an eternity. He sought a familiar presence, sent a clear warning to the man he felt on the other side of the bedroom door. Several minutes passed, Diana left the house, then the golden-haired nobleman joined Alexander. He stopped just inside the room, his eyes quickly scanning the bodies on the floor, and the terrifying presence seated on the bed. “You killed her?” It was barely a question, more a choked gasp of sound. “Of course not, Julian.” Alexander sounded bored, even to his own ears. Julian came fully into the room and knelt next to Amberlaine. He winced at the torn wounds on her neck and throat, Alexander had not been gentle with her. She murmured incoherently as she stirred back into consciousness. Alexander’s name became clear. Julian felt his stomach recoil in repugnance. The perverted nature of their increasingly destructive relationship was sickening sometimes. With so much love between them, they chose instead to destroy each other with their obsession. “Have you lost your mind, Alexander?” Julian snapped when he turned to look at the master vampire. Alexander saw Amberlaine’s grey gaze slowly focus on him and she shuddered violently when he smiled at her. “Come, Amberlaine,” he called her to him. Julian reached to help her and she met his look, her eyes huge with fright. He lifted her from the floor and carried her to the bed, placed her in the circle of Alexander’s arms. She curled into the master vampire’s chest and began to cry quietly. Julian was faintly disgusted by the sight of them; Alexander, coldly arrogant and composed in the midst of murder, and his lover, blood-stained and heart-broken as she clung to him. Alexander’s hands smoothed over the wet, gore ridden mane of her hair, and she cried harder against him. He gathered her into his arms and rose from the bed to face

Julian’s ill-concealed contempt. “I’ll see that this is cleaned up by tomorrow evening, Julian,” Alexander offered with a dark smile. He glanced at the corpse, smiled wider, and stepped toward the window. “After that, we will be leaving for London.” He smiled, an expression that was purely malevolent. “I think it’s time we became acquainted with Amberlaine’s family, don’t you?” Alexander’s maniacal laughter lingered long in Julian’s head, and longer still in his uneasy heart. **** Amberlaine moaned softly as Alexander’s lips covered hers in an exquisitely gentle kiss. His tongue stroked the recesses of her mouth, and she pushed her body into closer contact with him as the water of the bathing pool at the rear of the estate soothed her tension. She could smell the blood that poured from her hair and was washed from their bodies as he held her. His hands were tender and evocative as they explored her curves and woke loving desire. Amberlaine drew back with a low cry of blissful pleasure when he cupped her buttocks and pulled her into more intimate closeness with him. She let her head fall back and sighed when Alexander accepted her invitation and bit into her neck. Unlike his earlier lust, this touch was filled with love. “I am sorry, Alexander,” she whispered a short while later when he had washed her hair and her body, arousing her to quivering need with his gentleness. “I would never betray you, mon bien-aimé. I thought…” she stumbled on the words, the sting of tears in her eyes again. “I thought you would want me to avenge what they did.” Alexander hushed her with a kiss then took her hand and led her back to their bedroom. It was nearly dawn and he was exhausted now that his fury had been sated. His passion had not. She slipped between the sheets and opened her arms to him, her smile filled with adoration. He covered her, drew her into a sensuous kiss as he slid into her aroused warmth. She arched upward, a seductive movement that took him deeper into her, and her legs wrapped around his waist as she answered the slow easy rhythm of his body. Alexander felt the explosion of happiness inside her, her body convulsed around him and her heart poured into his mind, an endless river of love and devotion that filled him with contentment. Her fangs pierced his neck gently, and he returned her joy, soothed the fears that he had planted inside her, banished them. His body shook with the intensity of his release, and she slowly drew back from him, her eyes shining with reverence. “Tell me I am forgiven, my beloved master,” she whispered. “Always,” he smiled. Alexander pulled her closer to him as he settled on his back. He kissed the top of her head, and smiled as she slept. Eternity was only beginning, he mused.

Chapter 10 London, 1730 Amberlaine stared outward from an upper floor window of the huge mansion that was Alexander’s home in England. They had been here for several years, yet she still found the sights and sounds of London a source of delight and genuine fright. She had lived her entire life in the small town of Pirate’s Cove, Massachusetts, in a world that these alien people considered wild and uncivilized. Having walked in their society, Amberlaine knew they had reason for their contempt. If it had not been for Alexander’s presence, she would have been scorned by everyone. “Do you intend to gaze at the stars all evening?” A smile transformed her features, and she sighed with pleasure when his arms encircled her waist and pulled her back to his chest. The soft stroke of his tongue along her neck roused a low murmur of erotic satisfaction in her throat. Her hand rose, slim fingers brushed through fine, silken hair, and she shuddered when sharp fangs whispered against her flesh. The pressure of her fingers pressed his mouth more firmly to her skin and her free hand gripped the window ledge when he bit gently. Weakness assailed her body and her head fell to one side, allowed him easier access to her neck. “Alexander…” It was a breath of barely audible sound, tremulous with awakened desire. He buried his fangs deeper and tightened his hold on her, his hips restless as their passion heightened, became shared. Long minutes later, Alexander’s dark head withdrew and she leaned against him, unnecessary breaths hoarse and shaky. She moaned as she squirmed against him, tried to turn in his solid embrace. He refused her demand for another moment, then spun her to face him. Scarlet blood-wine trickled from the corner of his mouth, and Amberlaine smiled as she leaned up to lick at the crimson stain. Her tongue slipped smoothly into his mouth and he bit again. The taste of her blood filled their mouths and melded them together as the caress became a kiss of hungry lust. “We’re going to be late,” Alexander murmured when she finally drew back and began to tug at his clothes. He made no attempt to dissuade her obvious intention. Amberlaine grinned up at him. “I’ve recently learned that being late is considered somewhat fashionable by these fools.” She caught his hands in hers and pulled him toward the large bed they’d left less than two hours earlier. “You’re insatiable, pet.” “Only for you,” she laughed. Alexander’s smile was amused and indulgent. She was more attentive to his needs now than she had been the night he’d chosen to keep her with him, and he was forced to concede a small amount of surprise came with the knowledge. His hunger had spawned many ‘children’ over the centuries, but he had never known any of them to remain as devoted as this one. Amberlaine stepped back long enough to shed her clothing, then she stood before him and smiled.

Alexander waited, knew she would hesitate only seconds before frustration would make her strip him of the material that impeded her enjoyment of him. He laughed quietly when she climbed onto the bed and quickly had him naked and fully aroused. He grasped her hips as she sat astride him and their bodies became one in a smooth flow of well-practiced motion. **** “Who is the host of tonight’s party?” Amberlaine asked as she slipped her arm through his and they approached the huge, imposing castle. “Some distant relation of the King,” Alexander replied, his disdain and boredom evident in every inflection of the words. “Why are we here?” she enquired. She smiled sweetly as their cloaks were taken and they were announced. Regardless of the numerous times the error was allowed, it thoroughly pleased her to be thought Alexander’s wife. She also knew that was one of the reasons he permitted the misconception—her enjoyment of the error, and the very real memory of what had happened to them just a few short years ago in Boston, when society there condemned her and looked down upon her for her place as a nobleman’s mistress. “You wanted to meet more people,” he reminded her with a slight smile, his softly resonant voice drew her back to the present. Alexander did not need to ask what had put the whisper of fear in her lovely eyes, he had forgotten nothing of their last encounters with rigid social mores and self-righteous zealots. “Which tends to mean nothing to you much of the time,” she pointed out with a frown that revealed more edginess than she would normally exhibit. Alexander shrugged, made no comment. They headed into the crowded reception hall and heads turned. It was a reaction Amberlaine had learned to expect. Alexander’s presence drew attention at any gathering. He was by nature far more regal than the royalty they presently mingled with, and that arrogance had caused much speculation about his own ‘royal’ connections. Despite nothing to lead them to the conclusion, the elite of London society had deemed the master vampire a relation of French nobility. In truth, Amberlaine could not be certain that it was a total fabrication. He laughed when she asked him of the possible validity of the tale. “We are delighted you could join us, my lord,” Countess Margaret Windermere stepped forward and quickly claimed a place at Alexander’s side. “We are honored by your invitation, Countess,” Alexander intoned with hypnotic softness. His smile grew minutely strained a moment later when Anne Sheraton and her husband Colin approached. Their glares were ill-concealed and directed solely at his lover. “Amberlaine,” Anne said by way of greeting. Her tone was cool with anger. She looked at Alexander and the expression faltered noticeably. “You should not have brought her here, my lord.” “It did occur to me to remain home in our bed,” the vampire murmured seductively. When Anne’s face was suffused with scarlet embarrassment, Alexander’s arm encircled Amberlaine’s waist and he drew her closer to his side. Colin’s muffled laughter earned him a glare from his wife when the vampire couple’s lips met in a slow, sensuous kiss. “It is good to see you again,” Colin smiled when Amberlaine and Alexander drew

apart and looked at their companions. “Save a dance for me, Amberlaine,” he whispered hurriedly when Anne snared his arm and began to haul him away. Amberlaine grinned at him and nodded. “You certainly know how to incite gossip, my lord,” the Countess pointed out with a smirk. “But, I can’t say that I’m sorry you chose to put the little chit in her place, Monsieur DeLenoir. Anne can be such a tiresome creature at times, I wonder how poor Colin tolerates her.” “Julian and Diana have arrived, mon bien-aime,” Amberlaine said with genuine pleasure, her smile lit with excitement. Alexander’s expression was pensive as he looked from her animated features to the equally broad smile Julian was casting her way. “Go,” he intoned with a slight smile, giving Amberlaine a tiny nudge. “You are dying to speak with Julian.” She grinned at the small inflection he gave the word ‘dying’, then leaned up to kiss his cheek. When she would have run to Julian, Alexander held her back for a moment longer. “Ask Diana to join me, pet,” he requested. She nodded and he released her. “Julian!” Amberlaine rushed into his open arms when he spun around and swept her into a close embrace. “It feels like years, not mere weeks, that you have been away.” “I am surprised that you would notice our absence,” Diana noted with a sardonic lilt to her tone. “Has Alexander been neglecting you, cherie?” “Diana,” Amberlaine smiled brightly at the other woman. “You are beautiful as always,” she breathed in admiration, her eyes drifting quickly over the lush, deep blue velvet of Diana’s fashionable gown. She had trimmed the ensemble with black lace, her personal emblem of the darker side of their nature. “You are very lovely yourself, Amberlaine,” Diana replied softly, and her smile deepened when she took stock of the stylish and stunning emerald silk of the gown her friend wore. It had Alexander’s elegance imprinted on it, and, as was his custom, he had attired his conquest to draw the eyes of all who looked upon her. “Alexander wishes to speak with you, Diana,” Amberlaine informed her. “Might I keep Julian to myself for a short time?” “Of course,” the raven-haired vampire answered, “I do not think he will object at all,” she added with a grin. Once they were alone and walking through the throngs of people gathered in the huge hall, Amberlaine looked more intently at her companion. There were shadows in his sky-blue eyes, and a quiet brooding in his mood that was not his natural manner. “What’s wrong, Julian?” she asked when they had found a relatively private corner near the doors that opened onto the vast gardens of the castle. “Nothing that need concern you, Amber,” he replied with uncharacteristic sharpness. Her eyes narrowed, but he made no attempt to explain his evasion of the query. “I did think we were friends, Monsieur Marchaund,” she retorted with sibilant softness. “It was my concern that prompted my intrusion.” She took a single step then halted when his steel-like grip on her elbow held her to the spot. “Julian,” she breathed with lethal sweetness, “I would advise you to release me, my lord.” “We need to talk, Amberlaine,” he assured her, “but privately.” Startled by the sudden change in his mood, she peered closer at his troubled features. “There is something wrong, isn’t there?” she asked, a slight tremor in her voice that

never quite faded if she was reminded, however inadvertently, of their brush with true death in Boston. And that was the only true fear she possessed now, all others had been banished by Alexander’s powerful presence. “Not in the way you’re thinking,” he said, watching her eyes cloud with old anxiety. “Then what else could it be?” she snapped, annoyed with herself for being afraid, and angry at him for making her remember the terrors that were not so far behind them. For indeterminate minutes, Julian stared at her, measured the bonds of trust that existed between them, and how well they would withstand an assault from Alexander. He shook his head unconsciously as he found his answer. “Perhaps it would be better if we didn’t discuss it at all,” he inclined his golden head in a curt, mocking bow, and was gone in a rustle of silk and velvet. Amberlaine stared after him, shocked and hurt by the startling dismissal. **** The party continued, but it had lost all appeal to Amberlaine as she walked among the laughing guests, exchanging empty chit-chat and platitudes with people she despised for the most part. Julian had vanished into the crowd after his curt words, and she had not seen him since. Nor had she been able to locate Alexander and Diana. Weary, Amberlaine began to wander the upper hallways of the grand estate, her vampiric senses picking up the small sounds of numerous couples engaged in private parties of a more intimate nature. She smiled, and continued her walk, gradually coming to an awareness that had been with her from the time she’d reached the top of the elaborate staircase that opened onto the spacious corridor. Alexander was in one of the rooms, she could sense his pleasure and passion teasing the fringes of her consciousness. The betrayal almost brought her to her knees the instant she understood it. The crushing pain held her immobile for timeless minutes, then it was slowly replaced by rage and hatred that she’d known only once before, when she’d seen what had been done to her beloved for the sake of Melissa Tarrant. She took a step toward the far end of the hallway and discovered hands on her arms, holding her in place. She swung, ready to kill whoever was daring to detain her. Julian’s azure gaze filled her vision, and his misery buffeted her in waves of profound sorrow. “What is going on, Julian?” she asked, utterly confused, but spellbound by the ache in him. “She’s with him,” he whispered harshly. “Leave it at that.” “Who’s with him?” Amberlaine replied stupidly, unable to shake off the sensation of drowning. “Diana!” Julian hissed the name close to her ear and tried to pull her away. “No!” She raged. “He wouldn’t!” Amberlaine wrenched away from him and ran, her heart, so attuned to Alexander DeLenoir, guiding her frantic steps. Julian watched, helpless and hopeless in equal measure. She had to know, he told himself repeatedly. It didn’t ease his conscience. He’d discovered the same infidelity many, many years before, and it still poisoned him inside. But, Diana made no apologies for the bonds that existed between their master and her, she merely indulged in the occasional tryst with him and expected Julian to understand. He didn’t. Amberlaine would be less inclined to accept it. As he watched, she reached the door, and he was staggered by the backlash of

emotion that suddenly rocked the air around him, like a tangible tidal wave of fury and loathing that made him reel with pain. “No…” Amberlaine stared, mouth open in a silent scream as Diana arched off the mattress of the bed, Alexander’s naked body thrusting wildly into her. Blood stained their lips and their pale, perfect bodies, and Amberlaine fell against the wall when Alexander’s glowing eyes locked with hers and he drew Diana upward to guide her gleaming fangs to his neck. He shuddered in ecstasy and Amberlaine whirled away, stumbling blindly. The triumph in his eyes would haunt her forever. The shredding of her heart and trust for longer than even that. In the brief pulses of eternity that passed between them as their eyes locked, she had learned a truth that twisted and writhed within her like a serpent, and defined the evil incarnate that she had called Alexander, her beloved…

Chapter 11 October 1st, 2000 San Francisco, CA, U.S.A. Alexander stood outside the centuries old estate, and sent his thoughts into the dreams of the lovely woman he’d discovered, quite by accident, the night he’d left Camille in flames. As he’d walked away, he’d spotted a ghost, and followed her. She was Amberlaine Calvert reincarnated, perfect in every way. And, Alexander again wanted her, as he had over two hundred years earlier… **** …The dreams came, as they always did, breaths of disjointed, blood tainted images. She felt the terror, a distant, abstract awareness that was part of her, but was not born within her. Within Amberlaine Leigh was an unmistakable thrill of excitement—a macabre enjoyment of the fear that was growing all around her. She felt the reckless surge of abandonment that made her throw back her head, and laughter filled the night, hers, and his. A shudder penetrated the madness and she was left wondering who he was. She gazed up, drowning in eyes so brilliantly vivid they filled her vision, and he smiled. That shift of expression, fleeting as it was, sent a tingle along her spine that made her arch toward him, her body seeking some point of contact with his. He laughed, delighted by the response, and suddenly, Amberlaine was swept into his arms. The dream became a wild thing of lust and savagery as images blurred and aroused a hunger she couldn’t define. His lips parted hers and demanded her soul. She gave it. The taste and scent of him filled her senses, stirring a passion that threatened to make her scream for fulfillment. And, still he teased her, his mouth searching out the most vulnerable places, plundering her secrets, revealing them to her with a wickedness that made him all the more terrifying. When he refused to answer her broken pleas, she grew angry, and that, too, offered him a source of pleasure. He threw his head back and laughed as she turned furious eyes on him. “Bastard!” she hissed. “Take what you desire, Amberlaine!” he replied, matching her anger, but still smiling. “You can have anything you want, but only if you dare to claim it as your right.” Her eyes swept over the body lying beside her and she rose to her knees. She stared openly at him, feeling the swell of passion grow to an agony of exquisite need with each caressing shift of her gaze. Shaking hands reached out to touch the pale silk of platinumtinted hair, then sensitive fingertips traced the mocking smile that tilted the corners of his mouth. She parted his lips with a gentle probe of one finger, and deliberately punctured the tip by brushing it against the razor-sharp edge of one extended fang. He licked the droplet of blood as she again traced the fullness of his bottom lip. “I hate you,” she murmured, leaning forward to straddle his hips. Her hands

wandered freely over the smooth, cool chest, memorizing contours she knew better than her own body. Touching him was like a drug, addictive, senseless, exciting beyond anything she’d ever known in her life. She let another drop of blood drip from her finger; it pooled over his heart and she bent to lick at the scarlet stain. This time he reacted to her, and the tiny shiver brought a smile of deep satisfaction to her face. Gone was any trace of the innocence that had dominated so much of her spirit years ago, pure hunger blazed from pale grey eyes. A hunger he had cultivated and fed for decades. A thousand years could pass and she’d still crave his touch with an insanity that made her despise herself, and him. “Show me how you hate me, bitch,” he snarled, hands tangling in the waves of auburn hair that fell forward when he pulled her down to him. He would have turned, pinned her beneath him, but Amberlaine surprised him. She tore away from his embrace and glared down at him, eyes flashing. Amused, he let his hand encircle her throat, knowing she would sense no threat in the gesture. She arched her neck, inviting without a word. His hazel eyes grew dark and dangerous. She rose on her knees and bent forward until her lips brushed his, then allowed her tongue to invade the welcoming moisture of his mouth. Slender fingers drifted across her back, waking trails of fire that left her shuddering against him. She drew away from the bitter sweetness of his mouth and stared down at him again, her chest heaving with the effort to regain some control of her body’s responses to him. The hands at her waist shifted, finding the fullness of her breasts and she moaned softly as he brushed his thumbs across the hardened buds of her nipples. Amberlaine shook her head and slid back, pushing his hands away as she began to explore the pale, superbly defined body. When her mouth finished its teasing trek across his chest, and closed over him, she shuddered at the rise of his hips. “Hate me, Amberlaine,” he mocked, even now unable to resist the reminder that this erotic torture was something he allowed—not submitted to. Her head rose and she smiled, fangs gleaming in the silvery glow of muted moonlight that illuminated the elegant room. He pulled her back to him and rolled, covering her body with his as he took possession of her. When he bit into her throat in the same motion that he entered her body, she spasmed in a convulsive shiver of pain and ecstasy. He answered the response moments later when he drew back and she found the softness of his neck… The shadows within the room gradually faded to pale grey as she watched for the approaching sunrise. The dreams had been more vivid last night than ever before. Amberlaine was frightened as she had never been in her life. They were always the same, except not. Subtle differences marked each dream. The one thing that never changed was him. The mysterious, unknown man who made love to her and woke a primitive craving that she had never found remotely a part of herself. The taste of blood, a hold-over from the dream, lingered in her mouth and she choked, retching painfully at that particular memory. Sweat beaded her brow and she resisted the temptation to huddle into her bed and cry until there was only an exhausted blank where her mind should be. This wasn’t a vision, she knew. It had the feel of an ancient memory, something that was, in fact, a reflection of her own distant past. His name remained a mystery, something beyond her reach. She had tried, shortly after the dreams started, to induce the subconscious part of her mind into asking his name in one of the dreams. That, too, had proved to be futile. She could

see every detail of the stunning, arrogant features, feel every inch of the pale, flawless skin. Her body shivered with that stray thought, answering the ache that always filled her after one of the dreams. Hate me, Amberlaine, the mocking, mildly contemptuous voice purred in her head. “Hate you!” she whispered to the silent room. “I don’t know you. I don’t want to know you.” Frustrated and perplexed, she tossed aside the sheets that were tangled around her and rose. She headed for the shower, but stopped as she passed the mirror. Her eyes surveyed the woman looking back at her, vaguely disturbed by the sense of watching a stranger. Wide set grey eyes were hard with an emotion she couldn’t recognize, the mane of burnt auburn hair was in total disarray, streaming over ivory shoulders. Unconsciously, her gaze moved to the curve of her neck, insanely relieved to find the skin was clear and smooth. She touched a strand of the soft hair and twirled it around her fingers, reminded of the silkiness of his hair. The flowing nightshade of his hair was fine and her fingertips tingled in reactive response to the recalled texture. Irritated with herself, she peeled the wisp of nightgown from her body and dropped the sweat-damp garment into a heap on the floor. She walked to the shower stall and stepped inside, deliberately chilling the cascade of water in an effort to escape the flush that crept over her when his face drifted before her. **** “Amber, wake up for Christ’s sake!” Joseph snapped impatiently. “We’re supposed to be ready to meet the Carlen’s in less than an hour, and you’re drifting off in one of your visionary dazes.” “Joseph, I’m not in the mood for your bullshit, so just stay off my case,” she retorted. The anger was out of character, and out of place, she realized instantly. He was looking at her like he’d never seen her before. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, her eyes avoiding his too direct stare. “I didn’t get much sleep last night. I guess it’s making me jumpy.” Joseph didn’t offer comment. She’d been getting more and more distant over the past few months, and there was an edge coming into the smoky grey eyes that warned him away more effectively than any of her words might have. There’d been a time when he thought she felt about him the way he did about her. Now, he wasn’t even certain of his own feelings. Amber’s were a complete mystery. She didn’t invite any man close, something that had been the cause of a great deal of speculation at one time. Now, it was an accepted fact, something no one talked openly about. “We’ll have lunch after this meeting,” he suggested quietly. “Are you planning to go to work afterward, or would you rather go home?” “I’d just as soon not have to go back to the house,” she replied with an uneasy shiver. “This will either work, or not, so it’s not going to take long.” She looked away and her eyes focused on a rooftop in the distance. She was never comfortable with these things, people’s hopes hanging on her ability to offer them a ray of light in the darkness of losses they weren’t prepared to deal with. Amberlaine was considered a gifted psychic by many, and a flake by vastly more. She owned a lucrative advertising agency, and tried to shy away from the publicity that accompanied her professional successes. The first time she’d saved a life by insisting there was danger no one else saw, she’d discovered that her gift was anything but a gift; it fell more easily into the disdained category of a curse. Yet, she

hadn’t been able to refuse the people who sometimes sought her out to help them. Joseph Collins had been one of the first ones to find her. He was a private detective, and his case then had been personal. When the police had suggested he talk with her, he’d been less than happy to learn what it was that made her an option he should consider. In spite of the initial antagonism between them, she’d eventually helped him find his kidnapped sister. He’d stubbornly remained a bonafide skeptic, until that terrible moment when his fifteen year old sister, Kary, had been dredged from the river—exactly where Amberlaine had told him she’d be found. After Kary’s funeral, Joseph had become friend, bodyguard, and surrogate big brother. Later, he’d also become her most trusted aide, and could run the Mooreland Corporation with the same ease and effectiveness that Amberlaine, herself, did. Amberlaine knew he wanted a dramatically different kind of relationship with her, but she wasn’t able to offer him more than was presently between them. She’d never known why, though in recent months, she’d begun to suspect. From the time she was a child, Amberlaine had been old. The psychic ability that separated her from other children had played a part, but there was always the strong sense of another lifetime. Another time and place where she had lived, but had never truly died—at least not in the way that most people did. The violent dreams had been a terror to the little girl, showing her a vision of the woman she saw today in the mirror—and the horror-stricken face distorted with flames as she burned, tied to a stake while people leered and applauded her agony. A face she’d never noticed before suddenly became clear through the smoke and terror of her memory, and she choked back a whimper of fear when he shook his head and bowed to her. A flicker of silver was all that was visible as he vanished into the darkness, disappearing into the concealing cloak of night. “Amber!” There was sincere concern in Joseph’s fear-sharpened voice, and he shook her out of the stupor that had made her cry out so violently. She was ghostly pale and trembling beneath his hands. “We’re calling this off,” he decided when she finally slumped back in the chair and started to breathe deeply, slowly easing the gasping quality of the action. “We can’t,” she eventually whispered. “I promised I’d help them.” “Amber.” She ignored the warning in the tone and looked up at him. “I gave them my word, Joseph.” He’d heard that steely note a thousand times in the past few years, knew better than to argue with her. He nodded, bit back the irrational, furious string of words he wanted to fling at her, and turned his back to watch the driveway from the window. “What happened, Amberlaine?” She started, surprised by the use of her proper name. Joseph rarely called her anything but ‘Amber’, the fact that he did so now was a very clear indicator of his annoyance. “A dream,” she told him, feeling the vagueness of the reply. “Something from my childhood. It’s not important, Joe. Really. I’d just never seen it quite like that before.” “You were terrified, sweetheart,” he reminded her gently. “I don’t always understand this stuff, Amber, but that doesn’t mean you have to face any of it alone.”

“I know that,” she said with a warm smile. “But there is, in this instance, nothing to face. I have lived with strange memories all my life. I’m used to it,” she added with a light laugh, trying desperately to shrug off the horror that still gripped her insides. He’d been there! Wherever there was… **** The day had been painfully long for Amberlaine, the Carlens having been excessively demanding in their need for information about their son’s disappearance. Explaining that paranormal psychology was anything but an exact science had only further infuriated them, rather than eased their doubts. She had been able to see nothing, even with the boy’s belongings in her possession. Despite the ridiculousness of the emotion, Amberlaine felt guilty for her failure to help them. Part of her couldn’t escape the certainty that had she been less shaken by her own ghosts, she might have been able to glean something that could offer them hope for their son’s well-being. The only face that filled her mind and refused to release her was the enigmatic, compelling face of the lover in her dreams. She locked the garage and went to the side door that she preferred to use when entering the huge house that had been her family’s home for longer than she’d been alive. She lived alone, now, the last remaining member of her family having died the previous year. She missed her grandmother tremendously, especially at night, when they had spent countless hours discussing the scope of Amberlaine’s frequent visions and insights. Monica Mooreland had understood Amberlaine from the moment they’d met, and her death had left the young woman a wealthy and influential company, and more personal security than she’d ever imagined possible. Amberlaine was turning the key in the lock when she felt the powerful presence in the garden a short distance from her. Fear froze her for several moments, then she forced herself to open the door and wait on the other side of it. As the panic receded, she felt a flutter in her stomach that was disturbingly familiar. “Come into the house if you wish,” she said softly, knowing that the words would be heard. When he stepped from the shadows, dark hair gleaming with silvery tints in the radiance of the full moon, she was unsurprised. She stepped aside, and he swept across the threshold in a graceful flow of motion that hardly ruffled the air with his passing. Time stood still as those well-known eyes caressed every inch of her trembling form. “Who are you?” The look he cast at her was openly amused, another expression she knew too intimately. “You are joking, Amberlaine?” The voice was as she’d heard it so often, except that face to face, it had the feel of a silken stroke along her spine. Rich, deeply textured, and precisely modulated—it was the voice of one who could destroy with a word. Or, even more frightening, the voice of a man who knew what lay within her soul, carefully sheltered from her own sight. That knowledge was something he would exploit and use, as he had long ago. And she would allow him to do so, just as she had then. The instinct to go to him was more deeply ingrained than her instinct for survival. Had it always been this way? “I am not,” she finally replied, forcefully resisting the temptation to reach out to him.

To touch the rich ebony and silver hair, and draw the full, curving mouth to hers. “Alexander,” he murmured, taking her hand and raising it to his lips. The name sent an unmistakable, clearly visible shudder through her body, and she closed her fingers around his when he would have released her. The reluctance to lose his touch amused him; she saw it in the pale eyes that watched her with something akin to wonder. “We have known each other in another life, have we not?” “We have been everything to each other, Amberlaine. I had thought you lost to me, forever.” For several long moments, silence engulfed the room and settled like a blanket over them. She eventually nodded, and her eyes rose to capture his. “You left me to their madness. You watched me die,” she felt the surge of anger blossom. There was betrayal and accusation in her face as she watched her words register on his austere features. “I did,” he admitted. “But it was not a thing I was able to prevent. Another was responsible for your death, Amberlaine. Do you remember him?” As he watched the cloud of confusion grow within her eyes, the plan fell easily into place. He had been amazed to discover her weeks earlier, a chance glimpse as she left her office building late one evening. He’d learned all he could of her, delighted when her name remained the same, but even more intrigued by the whispers of her psychic abilities. “I remember none but you,” she told him, walking away when he accepted her words without comment, or noticeable surprise. “I left you in the care of someone I trusted. He allowed you to be taken from me to save his own life.” Amberlaine let his words follow her into the darkened living room, and she went to stand at the window. She turned on no light, preferring the darkness as she always did. The moonlight streamed over the meticulously kept gardens, painting the rich, vibrant colors with the frost-like sheen of cool silver. Alexander watched her from the doorway. She was as she had been two hundred years ago, a creature of extraordinary beauty and intelligence. Amberlaine had been bound to him as few others had ever been, her loss was one he had, in his fashion, mourned. He saw the specter of that lover in this perfect reincarnation, and he desired her with the same fiercely obsessive hunger that had made him claim her centuries earlier. “You were there,” Amberlaine repeated after several minutes of deep quiet. “I arrived long after I could have saved you,” he supplied. “You were near death. I have never forgiven Julian for that,” he lied smoothly. “I promised retribution for your death, Amberlaine. In another place, another time, but a promise nonetheless. It is a vow I still intend to keep.” “Julian?” The sound of his name offered a strange comfort, despite the things she was being told. It made no sense. “The one I entrusted you to,” Alexander informed her, slowly slipping into the deep shadows at her back. “I am not your Amberlaine, Alexander,” she whispered. The effort to deny him was a near pain, and she gripped the window-frame to stabilize the sudden dizziness that assailed her. “But you are,” he murmured next to her ear. He reached around her, his fingers finding the buttons on her silk blouse. The sheer material parted and he traced the tiny

cross that marred the perfection of skin above her heart. “They did this to you that night,” he said, allowing his touch to brand the tiny symbol deeper into her mind than it was in her body. “They called you witch, and sentenced you to death.” “I was already dead,” she said, finally daring to face him. “At least to their understanding of such a thing.” “So, you do remember what we were,” he smiled. “I don’t know.” She felt tiny and frightened in the presence of his overwhelming strength. Every part of her was screaming to escape this man, this creature from myth and darkness. Yet, he held her transfixed, lost and helpless in the raw sensuality of his nearness. “I have searched so long for you, Amberlaine,” Alexander whispered, enjoying the heated warmth of her breaths fanning across his lips as she waited for him to touch her again. His gaze dropped to the open shirt and the provocative swell of pale skin revealed to him. “You lie so easily,” she replied. She reached out with a shaking hand, letting her small, delicate fingers slip beneath the rich fabric of his shirt. His skin was cool against her touch, and smooth as marble. The sensation lit a flare within her that quickly ignited a raging fire. “You assume a great deal, my pet,” Alexander answered, the tone one of clear warning. “And you, of course, do not,” she said with a smile. “I want your help,” Alexander told her with an honesty that was both shocking and disarming in its sincerity. “You have never needed anyone.” A hint of bitterness colored the words, made them a shaky admission of her fear of their truth. “I believe I said I wanted your help,” he reminded her, answering the fear with honesty that fed it, rather than soothed. “There is a considerable difference.” “I want you to leave me alone, Alexander.” Only as she made the statement did she recognize the accuracy of it, and she waited for his answer, certain she already knew what it would be. “You simply want me, Amberlaine,” Alexander remarked with an eloquent shrug of one shoulder. When she would have shaken her head in protest, he grabbed a fistful of auburn hair and covered her mouth with his. She went rigid in his arms, but he refused to release her. When he forced his tongue between her lips, she tried to push him away, and he countered the motion by pressing her against the wall. “Don’t. Please.” The two words were tiny whimpers of sound that escaped her lips as he caressed her throat. The intent of that sensual, arousing tongue was something she understood, and it terrified her. “Tell me what you want?” It was a plea for freedom he wouldn’t grant. Alexander drew back, eyes blazing hunger into hers. He laughed, the sound as it had always been, a mocking, cruel victory. “You, my pet,” he drawled. “All I’ve ever wanted is you. I want to reclaim what was taken from me so many years ago.” He smiled, leaned closer so his words were air between them. “I want your body, darling. I want your glorious tits in my face so I can suck them until you scream for mercy. I want your lush, wet cunt clutching at my aching cock. I want your heart. Mostly, Amberlaine Calvert-Mooreland, I want your soul’s

surrender to me.” When he reclaimed her lips, she welcomed him, and his kiss became seductive and luring. After eternal minutes, he gathered her into his arms and carried her up the curving staircase and into her bedroom. He placed her in the center of the huge bed, and stepped back. Amberlaine watched though dazed eyes as he stripped out of his clothes, her body shuddering uncontrollably when he stood before her. Pale skin looked like alabaster in the moon’s glow as it poured through the open window. Sculpted muscles gave him the regal presence of a god-like dream. Old memories stirred and consumed her, filling her with the knowledge of what it was to be possessed by Alexander. She rose from the bed and quickly peeled away her own clothes. Then, she settled back on the pillows and opened her arms to him, accepting a destiny that was as undeniable as Alexander, himself. **** Dawn was approaching when the master vampire rose from the bed and walked to the window. He glanced down at the rapidly healing scar on his chest, and his smile was filled with satisfaction. He felt a tremor of desire wake when he allowed himself to remember the eagerness with which she’d taken his blood. Their joinings were as they had always been—wild, savage with mindless lust. Amberlaine was his, of that there was no doubt. If her talent to look into the future had remained intact was a thing yet to be seen. Without it she would be of little use to him. He turned with a sigh and gathered his clothes, dressing as he watched her. She would wake in several days, and he would be waiting for her. If her psychic abilities had been brought across with her, he would have a formidable weapon against Julian. That he had taught her to hate Julian already would only make her more anxious to do what he wanted of her. Not that it had been necessary to persuade her with the deception—she had always been a willing slave to his needs. He’d been right to give her to the maddened crowd two centuries ago so that he, Julian and Diana could escape. The passage of time had supplied her with a tool he could use.

Chapter 12 October 4th, 2000 San Francisco, CA, U.S.A. “Alexander!” The voice that echoed in the silent room was filled with terror and husky with recent disuse. The vampire hesitated before he closed the space that separated him from the woman who’d just cried his name so piteously. He reached for her, pale fingers brushing a soothing caress across her forehead, and when wide grey eyes opened and stared up at him, he smiled. “Welcome home, Amberlaine,” he whispered, his voice like silk as he bent to place a cool kiss on her quivering lips. “Home?” There was a world of confusion in the single word and she tried desperately to clear the murkiness from her mind. She felt weak and frightened, though she could not recall why either emotion should be so strong. She looked into the piercing hazel eyes that regarded her so calmly, and the whisper of a smile curved her lips. She remembered him, little else was clear, but she knew this man. Alexander DeLenoir. Her death. Her life. “How did you come to be here, Alexander?” “Your memory will return, Amberlaine,” he assured her. “All of it will be clear to you once you adjust to your new life.” Her stomach rumbled and she put a hand on her abdomen, feeling the sense of hunger that lingered but had somehow changed from what she was accustomed to. “I feel so different.” He saw the haze of puzzlement cloud her eyes, then her focus returned to him as she asked simply, “Why?” “You are part of me now,” he replied with a warmth that made her tremble visibly. “I’m hungry,” she murmured. She glanced around the room, but did not see her surroundings as she searched for something she couldn’t even name. “Please, help me?” She turned huge grey eyes to him, the plea repeated in their dazed depths. “Do you know where you are, Amberlaine?” Alexander asked, as he stroked soft auburn hair from her forehead. When she offered no response to his enquiry, he nodded. “I will help you. You are mine.” He was mildly surprised when the words lit her eyes with emotion. “I belong to no man, Alexander,” she murmured in an irritated manner. The magnitude of her anger was shocking. “I never have,” she added. She was furious with him, enraged by the mocking laughter her words evoked. “You, Amberlaine, have belonged to me for an eternity,” he equaled her anger, but his was vastly more dangerous. “And you will do my bidding, pet. You will even beg for my favor afterward.” He laughed, the sound dark and tainted with macabre humor. “That’s not all you’ll beg for, either.” Amberlaine felt another swell of rage course through her, the emotion enhanced by the fierce hunger that wracked her body. She pushed herself off the bed, but collapsed

when her feet touched the floor. Alexander watched her fall, his expression one of patient boredom. He offered no assistance until she started to shake, and to utter tiny whimpers of pain. He knelt beside her and drew her into his arms, whispering soft comfort to her. He smiled as her body curled into his, her arms clung to him with a strength that was desperate. “I’m afraid,” she admitted with mounting terror. She leaned closer to him, and felt the-hunger grow to near maddening ferocity. Instinct drew her to his neck. She kissed the cool, smooth skin, her tongue caressing his flesh as she moaned with the sensation of passion. She shuddered as fangs emerged and she opened her mouth. Before she could do more, Alexander’s hand caught her hair and jerked her head back. “Not yet, Amberlaine,” he told her with a smile that held both pleasure and compassion. “Not until you’ve fed properly.” Amberlaine stared at him, drowned in the glittering azure sea of his eyes. Her emotions rose and ebbed like a tidal wave, barely within her control. She loved him. She hated him. She wanted him. She needed him. Alexander watched the turmoil in her eyes, felt every shift of her mind as clearly as if she’d spoken each thought. She was his, completely and irrevocably. He sensed no power within her, nor vision. Masking his disappointment, he drew her to her feet and led her again to the bed. He sat her on the edge and stepped back, watching the hunger distort her beauty as it took hold of her body. For several moments, he wondered if she’d dare to attack him. “Please, Alexander?” The request was a breathy plea, torn from a part of the soul that she no longer possessed. He touched her cheek, slender, pale fingers lingered over cool skin with exquisite gentleness. He nodded, stepped back, and disappeared into the shadows. His smile was filled with satisfaction as he opened the bedroom door and pulled the restless youth into the room. The scent of warm blood filled Amberlaine’s senses and the hunger gnawed her insides with greater intensity. She turned to watch Alexander return, a young man at his side. The boy’s heartbeat pounded like a beacon to her, and she held out her hand, the invitation unmistakable. “I told you she was beautiful,” Alexander breathed into the boy’s ear. The kid looked at him, his expression openly disdainful as he gave the vampire a thorough examination and clearly found the older man lacking. Alexander’s expression remained unaffected— only his eyes gleamed his amusement at the boy’s impudence. “If you wanna watch, man, that’ll cost you extra,” the young man snapped with a mocking snort of laughter. Before Alexander could offer him an answer of any kind, Amberlaine leapt forward. The suddenness of her attack brought a spurt of delighted laughter from Alexander. He sat on the bed and awaited her. “Get this bitch off me, man!” the kid shouted, as he tried to squirm out from under Amberlaine. Before he could say more, Amberlaine knotted her hands in his hair and yanked, pulling his head to one side with a strength that snapped his neck, the audible crack of dislocating bones loud in the unnatural silence that had fallen over the room. As the last

breath passed his lips, she sank her fangs deep into his throat. The bittersweet taste of warm blood filled her mouth and she drank greedily. She gorged herself on Alexander’s gift. The boy’s life seemed to hum in her veins and she felt new desires stir with each drop of precious blood she consumed. When she’d taken everything she could from the corpse, she fell back and sighed when Alexander’s hand stroked her hair. Her back was pressed against his legs and she turned, her head rested on his thigh as she stared up at him. Alexander read the adoration in her gaze and he reached out to run a finger through the scarlet stain of blood at the corner of her mouth. He brought the stained fingertip to his lips, tasted the warm stickiness, and smiled when she began to rise. She moved to her knees and her hands slid over his thighs in a provocative caress. “What was his name?” “Does it matter?” “No,” she murmured, then leaned closer to him. Her senses were vibrating with new awareness, every tiny nuance of sight and sound alive in a way she’d never known before. Alexander filled her vision, his face pale and extraordinarily beautiful in the muted light and her heightened consciousness. She caught sight of the room she’d awakened in, seeing it for the first time. Slowly, she shook her head in an effort to rid herself of the confusion that now clouded the euphoria of seconds ago. Eventually, she found her voice again. “This is my house.” “Yes, it is,” Alexander confirmed, his eyes carefully watching her reactions. “I thought you might wish to wake here.” “How?” For a moment, she wasn’t truly certain what it was she wanted to know. The images blurred, little more than incoherent, incomprehensible memories. She started to bring her hand up to her hair and noticed the blood that was smeared in her palm. Her look darted to the body less than two feet away and she choked back a scream as understanding flooded into her objecting mind. She’d just killed someone. Alexander allowed her to climb to her feet and waited for her next reaction as she ran to the window and threw it open. Amberlaine clutched at the window-frame, and he could see the tremors that shook her body as she stared down into the gardens. “How long has it been?” Alexander rose, walked to her, and slipped his arms around her waist. When she tried to escape his embrace, he held her tighter, and forced her to accept his presence. “Several days,” he murmured into her ear, his tongue tracing the curving lobe. “I was beginning to fear you would not wake.” “I wish I hadn’t!” She tried again to wrench free of him, and cried out when he whirled her around and slammed her back against the wall. “I hate you!” she hissed, fury transforming her features. Her eyes glowed golden-flame, and her fangs gleamed in the soft radiance of the waning moon. When she struck out this time, her hand connected with his cheek, the blow jarring enough to make him wince. She regretted the action instantly when he returned the gesture in kind, and Amberlaine felt the chill of true death run along her spine when Alexander’s face bent to hers. “Have a care for your existence, my pet,” he warned in a soft whisper. He saw his words penetrate the haze of her pain and replace it with very genuine fright. “Destroy me then,” she countered, voice shaking with the intensity of her fear. “I would rather that than what you’ve turned me into.”

“I’ve freed you, Amberlaine,” he mocked. “You have an eternity to do whatever you wish.” “An eternity to serve you,” she replied. This time her voice broke and tears filled her vision with a crimson haze. “You wanted me, Amberlaine,” he reminded her. Before she could answer he tilted her head back and smiled, his expression softened with the assurance that he was right. Her eyes captured his, drew him inward as he read both love and hate in their smoky color. “As you do now.” “Why did you bring me here?” “This is your home. It is my first gift to you in your new life,” he answered. He left her no opportunity to reply as he covered her mouth with his and loosened his hold on her. He wasn’t surprised when her body moved willingly into his arms, pressing tightly to him. Hunger rose anew with the surge of passion that rippled through her, and Amberlaine moaned low in her throat. Alexander’s laughter was like music in her ears and she was caught again in the spell of his presence. She ran her hands over his chest, and fumbled with the buttons of his silk shirt. She was startled when his fingers closed over hers and drew them away from their task. “Later,” he promised. “We’re going out.” “Where?” It was difficult to say which disturbed her more, the frustration she felt at his withdrawal, or, the prospect of leaving the safety offered by this ancient house. The streets of New York had never frightened her—yet, now, they contained all the horrors her imagination could conjure. “Get dressed, Amberlaine,” he directed with a smile. **** “How is it that all of my things remain as they were?” Alexander was stretched out on the huge four-poster bed, long legs crossed casually as he watched every movement she made. She made an inviting picture, he reflected with pleasure. He’d disposed of the boy, and returned to find her standing before the open closet. The sight of her naked body, gleaming like ivory in the moonlight, had almost changed his mind about leaving. Amberlaine was equally intrigued by the sight that greeted her eyes when she looked at him. The tall, stunningly attractive man sprawled on her bed took her breath away. He was dressed entirely in black, long legs encased in form-fitting leather, his upper body clothed in a shirt made of rich, heavy silk. A leather jacket, again in the midnight black that matched the rest of his attire, was tossed at the foot of the bed. The only jewelry he wore was a heavy silver and onyx ring that adorned the little finger of his left hand. Hazel eyes snared hers and she smiled when she saw the enjoyment in his expression. “Should I dress to complement you, Master?” She used the title with a sarcasm that did little to mask her bitterness. “You complement me nicely as you are, Amberlaine,” he purred. He laughed when she turned her back to him, her spine rigid with repressed annoyance. She was silent as she dressed. His eyes never left her as she moved through the room like an enticing shadow. Long minutes later he rose, desire drawing him to her. “It would seem that you approve of my choice, Alexander,” she whispered, as she

molded her hips to his. She shivered against him when his hands ran the length of her back, gliding over the matching coolness of satin and smooth skin. Alexander caught her lips in a kiss that threatened to have them tumbling into bed before they ever made it past the door. He caressed the silver-grey satin of her dress, sensitive fingertips tingling when his touch created tremors of reaction in her. His tongue played at her throat, passion teasing his senses, arousing his own hunger. He pulled back, and released her with obvious reluctance. His eyes swept over her in undisguised appreciation. The dress was strapless, fitting like a second skin from the waist up. The skirt was flowing, the hemline cut into jagged lines that exposed an enticing length of curving legs. She’d chosen stiletto heels to add to the illusion of height and she now stood only half a head shorter than him. Auburn waves tumbled around her shoulders, and a solitary diamond dangled from a fine gold chain at her neck. “Where are we going?” “To complete some business,” Alexander replied, anticipation evident in his voice. It would be interesting to see how the night’s ‘business’ ended. Amberlaine felt the faint stir of warning deep within her and she tried to reach for the whisper. It eluded her probe, and she shook her head, mildly disconcerted with the dizziness that suddenly threatened her. Alexander watched her, his eyes sharp, and he felt a similar twinge of reaction. He could sense the vision trying to surface, and the realization made him smile—her talent had survived the transformation. Before it could solidify in her mind and become a danger to his present course of action, he grabbed his jacket and propelled her toward the door. **** The shock of the night made Amberlaine stumble when they stepped from the door of her house and stood in the garden. She groped for Alexander’s hand and clutched it like a lifeline as she closed her eyes and drew in ragged, unnecessary, breaths. The sounds intensified and she heard the drumming of heartbeats, screams, animals, the pulses of life surrounding her. Before the volume reached a deafening level, Alexander’s voice penetrated the madness. “Reach past the sounds, Amberlaine. Hear only what you wish to hear. Concentrate, my pet,” he murmured, his free hand smoothed over her hair as he tilted her head up to meet his look. “Open your eyes,” he ordered. Amberlaine swayed and leaned into his body, clinging to the solid reality of his presence. “I don’t want to go out, Alexander.” “You must learn,” Alexander told her, keeping the impatience from his tone with real effort. “I will not let anyone hurt you, Amberlaine.” Reassured, she nodded and dared to step away from him. This time the shock of sensory perceptions was muted, and she glanced up at him, gratitude shining in her eyes. “It will get much easier,” he smiled. Before she could lose her nerve a second time, he led her to a waiting car. They’d get to flying soon enough, he thought with an ironic twist of his lips. ****

The nightclub, a dark, atmospheric place appropriately called The Vampyr’s Crypt, was not officially open when they arrived. All that was required to grant them admission was a single glance at Alexander. Amberlaine’s eyebrows rose when the handsome young man who ran the club greeted the pale vampire with warmth that was vaguely disturbing. “Who is he?” she wondered when the blond had left them at a corner table. “His name is Erik,” Alexander said without interest. “And you have business with this boy?” she asked, her doubt very evident in her tone. Alexander laughed and shook his head. Erik returned with two glasses, placed them on the table and waited for Alexander’s attention. When the vampire continued to ignore the blond, he turned the power of his stare to Amberlaine and she felt the sharp stab of pain within her head. She gasped silently at the awareness and was jolted further when she heard Erik’s sudden cry of anguish. “Alexander!” She recognized immediately what had caused the boy’s pain and she reached across the table to place her hand on Alexander’s arm. She withdrew instantly when he glared at her. “If I require anything further of you, Erik, I will let you know,” Alexander murmured. He dismissed the young man with a casual flick of his wrist and the boy staggered back. He hesitated for a moment longer, stared at Alexander in confusion, then he fled. “Is he also one of your… ‘children’?” Amberlaine questioned in a shaken whisper. “You tell me,” Alexander suggested as he picked up the wine glass and eyed the scarlet mixture swirling in the crystal globe. “Concentrate on his presence, and tell me why he is so angered that he dared to confront you.” Controlling the tremor of fear that slithered the length of her spine, Amberlaine did as he directed. She focused her thoughts on the blond man who watched them from behind the bar, and within seconds she tapped into his thoughts. It took only a glimpse to understand why Erik had allowed her to so easily read him, and she glared at Alexander. “Jealousy, Alexander,” she breathed. “A powerful emotion. Will you discard me so freely, my love?” Alexander didn’t bother with a reply, his attention was diverted by the arrival of his guest. He leaned back in his chair and watched Amberlaine’s expression as Joseph Collins was led to their table. When he sensed she would have risen and fled, Alexander’s hand clamped her wrist and held her where she was. “Why?” she hissed in fury, and fear. “We have business to discuss,” Alexander repeated softly, his fingers like steel around her fragile limb. “Joseph is… was my…” Amberlaine stuttered to a halt and turned wide, imploring eyes to the vampire. The expression she glimpsed in the endless depths of his eyes was unsettling, and she flinched when he leaned forward and his free hand touched her chin. “What was this one to you, my pet?” he purred, his voice a sensual stroke of mink over naked skin. Amberlaine opened her mouth to answer, uncertain of what response would chase the shimmer of danger from his gaze. “He was my friend, Alexander,” she finally whispered shakily. “Nothing more.”

Alexander accepted her answer without visible reaction, then rose to greet Collins. His smile grew when the other man stared at Amberlaine in undisguised bewilderment. The confusion vanished seconds later, transforming his features into happiness. “Amberlaine!” Joseph swept past Alexander and all but lifted Amberlaine from her chair. He tightened his hold on her and buried his face into the soft fall of her hair. “I don’t believe this,” he said quietly, voice rough with emotion. “How?” “Joseph, please don’t ask me questions I can’t answer,” she replied, as she eased free of his embrace. Alexander’s hand glided over her back and came to rest at the nape of her neck, long fingers caressing beneath the heavy auburn waves of her hair. She shivered noticeably, her head unconsciously pressing into the contact. Her eyes closed and she didn’t see the anger that lit Joseph’s dark gaze as he watched her respond to the vampire’s seductive touch. “You didn’t have to arrange your death to run off with this guy,” he snapped. He was perversely pleased when her attention abruptly refocused on him. “That’s not what happened,” she told him. She wanted to reach out to him, to reassure him, but her body refused to act on the desire. She felt the overwhelming hold of Alexander’s presence, draining her of her will, replacing that energy with a longing that was equally, if not more, powerful. “I wondered why you were so adamant about buying the old Sheraton house,” Joseph remarked, his angry stare turned to the pale figure behind Amberlaine. “I didn’t realize it was for the woman who already owned it.” Alexander’s laughter was chilling. He stepped back and offered Joseph a seat at the table with them. “What is it you want now?” Joseph demanded, his entire manner voiced his suspicion as clearly as spoken words. “I assume you’ll be returning to the office, Amberlaine,” he added, with a glance at her. “As a matter of fact, Mr. Collins,” Alexander interjected quietly. “Amberlaine will be leaving the city in a few days.” “And?” Joseph prompted impatiently. “I thought you might wish to see each other before we…” “Just who the hell are you?” Joseph snapped, all but rising from his chair as he whirled to square off against the vampire. “Joseph!” Amberlaine touched his arm and yanked hard when he tried to ignore her. “Look at me, damn you!” Alexander’s eyebrows rose and he leaned back in his chair to observe how she would behave. He hadn’t expected anger from her, yet she was unmistakably furious. “You have no right to question me,” she hissed at him. “If I’d known you were the business associate we were to meet, I would not have come here,” she spared a glance at Alexander as she made that assertion, then redirected her gaze with a shift of her eyes. “What’s happened to you, Amberlaine?” Joseph questioned, his confusion resurfacing and filling his expression. “I’ve died,” she stated bluntly. “Amberlaine Mooreland is gone, Joseph. I am not the woman you…” “Love, Amberlaine,” he whispered, now oblivious to Alexander as he pleaded silently for her understanding of his pain. “Do you have any idea what it’s been like for

me?” “I gave you everything, Joseph,” she replied, and swallowed hard against the swell of regret and pain that lodged in her throat. “I didn’t want your bloody company, Amberlaine!” he shouted. “Don’t you think I know that, Joseph,” she returned, her eyes downcast now that the spurt of anger had spent itself. She looked up as movement near the door announced that The Vampyr’s Crypt was now open to the general public. Alexander did not miss the distraction and his expression darkened when he aimed a glance at Erik. The young blond cast him a look that radiated defiance, and continued toward the entrance to greet the first of the people who would inhabit the club throughout the night. Alexander ignored the boy and rose, and held his hand out to Amberlaine. “There is a private room behind the bar,” he said quietly. “Perhaps we should continue our meeting there?” Despite the wording, it was not a suggestion. “Joseph?” Amberlaine tried to keep the tone polite, but there was a noticeable note of demand in the single word. It was difficult to say which of the two men was annoying her more at the moment. “I want an explanation, Amberlaine,” Joseph muttered. “Which you may get,” she answered softly, the ice returned to her voice, “if you want to talk to me without a nightclub of people around to hear our conversation.” Joseph nodded curtly, and followed as Alexander led them to the bar. His rage blossomed again when Amberlaine’s arms encircled the vampire’s waist and her head rested against his shoulder. Her expression was one of such happiness he detested Alexander for being the source of her joy. How many times throughout the past few years had he longed to be in this man’s position? His thoughts must have been written on his face, he realized a second later. Alexander smiled over Amberlaine’s head and bent to murmur something in her ear. Joseph watched as she lifted her head and stepped directly in front of Alexander. The other man smiled again and leaned down to catch her mouth in a kiss that made Joseph tremble with the force of his fury. Half expecting Amberlaine to reject the caress, his jealousy twisted into tighter coils within him as he watched the dark head begin to withdraw, only to be pulled back to hers another time. Joseph would have spun on his heel and left the club, but Alexander was quicker. He opened the door to the back room, and gently eased Amberlaine away from him. “I’ll join you in a few minutes,” he directed the statement to both Joseph and Amberlaine. “I have to see Erik on a personal matter,” he concluded. **** The private room turned out to be a suite. The sitting room they entered was elegant and rich, a direct contrast to the main area of the nightclub, which was stark and ultramodern. The windows were hidden beneath heavy velvet draperies, the furniture was a combination of antique, gleaming wood and leather covered chairs and couch. Amberlaine peered through the curtained doorway at the rear of the room and a whisper of smile touched her lips when she saw the same richness of decor marked the bedroom. A huge, round bed dominated the chamber, leaving her to wonder exactly why the suite was open to her—it felt very much like an apartment that was lived in. “Who is he, Amberlaine?” Joseph demanded, jarring her into refocusing her wandering attention. Wide grey eyes stared at him, their expression mildly confused.

“And what the hell has he done to you?” Amberlaine laughed, the reaction completely involuntary. She went to sit on the couch, the leather creaking as she settled into the stuffed, comfortable cushions. “Obviously you know him, Joseph,” she answered, gesturing for him to join her. “You sold my house to him.” “What was I supposed to do, Amberlaine—live there myself?” he retorted. “That would have made things a little tricky for you, under the circumstances, wouldn’t you say?” He tried to hide it, but the venom slipped into his voice. She appeared not to notice. Or was it just that it no longer mattered a damn what he felt? A tiny voice inside his head wondered. “I never wanted you to be hurt like this, Joseph,” Amberlaine began after a lengthy pause. “The last thing I ever expected was to meet Alexander again.” “Again?” Joseph repeated sharply. “Are you telling me you knew this asshole before? Is that why you’d never let me get truly close to you? Because of him.” “Not exactly,” she replied, her voice soft and compelling, and a direct foil to his angry mood. She could feel the pleasant fuzziness of languor creeping into her limbs, the aura sensual and arousing. “And, you are close to me now,” she whispered, as she slid closer to him. She could hear his heartbeat, the strong, steady rhythm a beacon drawing her into his orbit. Every part of her woke with new awareness of his nearness. The subtle scent of his aftershave, the smooth texture of his dark hair, even the ebony depths of his eyes drew her inward. Guided by instinct, she leaned into him. Her lips barely touched the corner of his jaw before his hand tangled in her hair and drew her mouth to his with a fierceness that startled her. Amberlaine relaxed in the embrace as Joseph’s kiss became a demand and her hand came to rest in the center of his chest. Her fingertips tingled at the perception of life throbbing beneath her light touch. The beat was erratic now, excited, and she shivered as the Hunger began to sweep through her. His blood was hot and enticing, and she drew back from the kiss, her smile filled with enjoyment. Joseph took no notice of the glow in her eyes as grey became luminescent fire. His lips were trailing kisses along her neck as his hands began to glide upward from her waist, exploring the gentle curves of her body as though for the first time. Amberlaine’s fingers slipped through his hair and she bent her head to the side of his neck, her tongue caressing the pulse when he pulled back to allow her access to the base of his throat. He shuddered when she began nuzzling the soft skin and Amberlaine felt her fangs emerge as desire burned through her. “Amberlaine,” Joseph murmured. “God! I love you so much!” Amberlaine heard the breathless declaration through the haze of blood lust and in that instant she understood why Alexander had arranged this meeting. Ice filled her veins and she jerked back with a suddenness that left Joseph gaping at her. She hid her face and forced the hunger down, the effort required all her concentration. She clutched the edge of the couch as she heard the deep, resonant laughter of her new lover. “Take him, my pet, he has waited long enough.” “No!” “What the fuck is going on…” Joseph whirled toward the sound of Alexander’s voice. His features distorted with hatred again when the tall, forbidding presence came fully into the room.

“Don’t, Joseph,” Amberlaine began, her fingers closing on his arm when he would have risen to face the vampire. “This has nothing to do with you.” “Of course it does,” Alexander countered. “He has wanted this for years, but he never dared take what it was he desired.” He came to a halt in front of Amberlaine and she released her hold on Joseph’s arm, then rose in a graceful flow of liquid motion. Her features were drawn into a scowl of anger. “I will not do this, Alexander,” she stated vehemently. “You will do whatever I wish of you,” he replied, his eyes glittering with power and irritation. “Not this,” she repeated, shaken in spite of her anger. “We’re leaving, Amberlaine,” Joseph informed her. He stood and reached for her, only to be intercepted by Alexander. His eyes widened with shock and pain when the vampire’s fingers threatened to crush the bones of his wrist. “Amberlaine is mine, Collins,” Alexander said quietly. “You would do well to remember that for the short time you have left.” “Please, Alexander,” Amberlaine knew the threat was not idle. She touched his hand where it still held Joseph’s wrist, and her fingers stroked the vampire’s pale skin. Gradually she felt his grip loosen and she drew his hand into both of hers. “Let him go, please?” she requested, her eyes punctuated the plea. “Why?” he whispered. He brushed a light kiss over her trembling lips. “Tell me why it is important to you, my pet.” “I loved him,” she answered. She didn’t dare to look at Joseph despite the enticement to warn him against saying a word. “I don’t want him to…” “Die, Amberlaine,” Alexander supplied with an ironic twitch of smile. “He would happily die for you though,” he continued, his mocking tone grew more sardonic as he spoke. “He would give you anything, including his life’s blood.” “Which is why I would ask for nothing,” she demurred. She allowed her gaze to shift this time, and she saw the disorientation in Joseph’s eyes. He was already under Alexander’s control. The vampire was simply deciding what to do with the mortal. Her eyes rose to meet Alexander’s mild curiosity, and she hesitated. “Yet, you would ask something of me,” he completed her unspoken thought. “I am yours,” she pushed down the flare of true anger the admission created within her. “I would do whatever you wanted of me. Is that not reason enough to grant me a single request?” “Only one, Amberlaine,” he acquiesced with a nod, recognizing her Blood Right without her knowing it. “You have been less than a night in your new life. Would you be so quick to claim your favor, when we have an eternity of lives ahead of us?” “Yes,” she responded without hesitation. “Please. I will not kill him, Alexander. I would rather die myself than use him to feed what you’ve made me!” She wanted to be calm, but anger and revulsion made the words sharp and low, filled with emotions she would have preferred not to reveal to her master. “Perhaps I should show him your true nature,” Alexander suggested coldly. Amberlaine winced and shrank back, her eyes once again filled with fright. It wouldn’t take much, she knew; even with her anger between them, she was completely aware of his sexuality. She could feel the Hunger rise within her and desire of another kind teased at her mind, making the need greater still. She resisted the temptation to

touch Alexander, forced her body to impose distance that might give her back some small amount of control. She also knew he could read every shift of her mind as clearly as if she’d spoken to him. That thought made her angrier than ever and she glared at him, and deliberately closed her thoughts. The shielding was intuitive and the action was taken before she could consciously stop it. She blinked in surprise when she read the rise of fury within Alexander’s brilliant hazel eyes. He could no longer hear her. “He’s not worth your fear,” the vampire told her, his eyes measuring the man they discussed. “If that’s true, then he’s not worth your notice,” she stated softly. Alexander laughed at the approach and nodded his approval. He considered her for several moments more before he accepted her choice. He led Joseph to the door and Amberlaine watched as the vampire spoke quietly to the other man. She saw Joseph nod, his eyes dazed and dull, then Alexander opened the door and watched him leave. **** Amberlaine walked to one of the windows and pulled aside the drapery. Through a haze of red moisture, she saw Joseph climb into his car. Seconds later, he was gone. She leaned forward until her forehead touched the cool pane of glass. The emptiness of loss threatened to engulf her completely and she closed her eyes against the misery that suddenly enshrouded her. Alexander waited for a few moments, and allowed his mind to absorb the results of the night’s ‘business.’ He had achieved his initial goal. Plus, he had discovered the first authentic evidence of Amberlaine’s psychic talent remaining intact. He was distinctly pleased. He crossed to the window and stood behind her. She would not be able to ignore him for long. He smiled when she stepped back, her body leaning against him for support that was more a mental need than an actual physical requirement. His hands rested at her waist for several moments and he felt a tremor move through her as she awaited him. “What do you want, Amberlaine?” he murmured close to her ear. She closed her eyes and shook her head, unable to voice the words that would answer him. Deep inside her, she shut the door on the last part of her life and accepted the reality of what she had become. She belonged to Alexander, a possession paid for in blood, bound beyond life or death. The truly amazing realization was the lack of despair that knowledge created within her. The only emotion she could hold onto was the madness his nearness incited, and the passion fed by every movement he made. “I’m tired, Alexander,” she breathed softly, suddenly weary beyond argument. Alexander gently lifted her hair and touched his lips to the softness of her shoulder. Her hand rose and slender fingers caressed his head as his mouth explored the smooth column of her neck. He could feel her shake against him and he pulled her closer, to mold her body to his without allowing her to turn to face him. “What do you want, Amberlaine?” he asked again. His hands glided over the cool satin of her dress until the tips of his fingers traced the straining outline of her nipples against the delicate material. Amberlaine’s hands clutched at his forearms and she turned her head into his neck, seeking some point of contact with his skin. With a suddenness that left her trembling,

Alexander released her and walked away. She stumbled back, groped for the wall to prevent herself from falling. He sat on the couch and watched her, hazel eyes distant and detached as he waited for her response to his withdrawal. Grey eyes were glowing and hungry when she regained her composure seconds later and came toward him. One eyebrow rose in speculative interest as she dropped to her knees in front of him and took his hands in hers. Alexander allowed himself to be tugged forward and their eyes locked as she eased the jacket off his shoulders and tossed it into a corner of the leather couch. She had his shirt open and pushed aside moments later and he held her face between his hands as she began to explore the contours of his chest. “You haven’t answered me, pet,” he told her, his voice rough. “Yes,” she smiled. “I have.” Without hesitation she pulled his head to hers and covered his lips in a kiss that was filled with the depth of her passion for him. His tongue probed into her mouth and she arched forward, silently begging for his touch. She sighed softly when he pulled her up into his arms and she settled across his thighs. She felt her dress falling away and a choked moan escaped her as his fingers whispered over her skin at last. The ache in her body became nearly unbearable as he teased her but refused to let her touch him. He held her hands and her fingers entwined with his, the grip strong enough to have broken mortal bones as her spine curved into a sensual arch. Endless minutes later, Alexander released her and she slid off him long enough to strip away the last of her clothing. She watched with eager anticipation when he did the same, then sat back into the cushioned softness of the couch. He laughed, the sound a growl of satisfaction when she straddled his thighs again. He grasped her hips and enjoyed the shudder of rapt elation that softened her features as their bodies joined. She wrapped her arms around his neck and guided his mouth to her throat, the invitation a wordless admission of love. Alexander’s fangs sank into soft, yielding flesh. He drank deeply as their passion reached dizzying heights. Amberlaine felt the sweet agony of exquisite desire building to fevered Hunger and she pressed tighter to him. Her hands caressed the soft, raven’s-wing silk of his hair as he took her soul from her body. She cried out when he pulled back seconds later and stared into her eyes, hazel now burning golden fire into hers. He smiled and nodded as his head fell back. She opened her mouth and bit into his neck as her entire body shuddered in greater ecstasy. **** It felt like an eternity before awareness of her surroundings returned. Amberlaine stirred against him, the faint taste of Alexander’s blood still on her lips. His arms cradled her to his chest and she murmured softly into his neck before licking at the healing wound she’d left there. He eased her head back and stared down at her. “I love you,” she whispered, and ignored the twitch of unease her admission stirred deep within her. Somehow, despite her willingness to adore Alexander, she doubted herself. The flicker of uncertainty passed when he smiled and kissed her. “We should go,” he told her a short while later, fully aware of the lateness of the hour. She’d literally passed out after their lovemaking, and he knew her strength was fragile. There was a great deal to teach her before they faced Julian; Alexander did not want to risk losing her.

“Why am I so tired?” she questioned. She was genuinely amazed by the effort required to rise and gather her clothes. It took even more of her stamina to actually get dressed again. “It will pass,” Alexander told her. “We have all the time in the world, Amberlaine,” he assured her with a chilling smile. Had she been less enchanted by him at that moment, Amberlaine would have felt a warning in the quiet words. Instead, she slid her arms around him and basked in the security his presence offered her. The silk shirt was still open and she placed a kiss over his heart before she stepped back to allow him to finish dressing. They left the nightclub minutes later. Erik was nowhere to be seen. **** Alexander stretched his legs out toward the crackling flames that burned in the huge stone fireplace that dominated the library of the Sheraton mansion. Above him, on the second floor, Amberlaine was asleep. Dawn was less than an hour away. He twirled the delicate stem of the crystal wine glass between his fingers, and enjoyed the dancing play of muted light glinting off the red liquid in the glittering globe. He drank deeply from the glass, draining it before he set it aside. The leaping tongues of fire drew him back in time and his smile was indolent. “Soon, Julian,” he purred to the silent room. Amberlaine didn’t remember Julian, but that too was likely to change as the distant past merged with the present within her memory. When she recalled Julian, she would try to refuse Alexander his revenge. But he’d granted her the gift of Joseph Collins’s life—a request he’d known she would make. She could no longer claim a Blood Right he could not deny. Julian had always held a special place in Amberlaine’s heart; the two had had an understanding that had caused Alexander’s wrath to emerge on many occasions. That she treated Julian with near reverent respect had infuriated Alexander. She had loved Marchaund in a way Alexander would not tolerate. It had been the cause of his retreat several days before she had been executed. Julian had been devastated by her loss. He had turned that rage on Alexander and had left the master vampire. It had taken many years of searching before he had located Julian once again. Now, Amberlaine would help him destroy the shining nobleman they had both loved in that long-distant, other life.

Chapter 13 On the other side of the country, in New York City, Julian Ramsey knew nothing of the heiress, or her untimely death. It would be almost a year before his attention was drawn to the Mooreland Corporation and its owners, past and present. And a neverforgotten error in judgment would return to haunt him in the most dangerous of ways. Unbidden, images crowded his mind, fleeting as running antelope… Alexander DeLenoir and his mistress, Amberlaine Calvert, making love and war with equal passion, as he and Diana watched in helpless fascination. Until a fateful night when even Amberlaine’s devotion had faltered, and she had turned to Julian for sanctuary. Memory taunted him, forced his mind back to that terrible night over two hundred years… …Julian had seen her the instant she whirled away in her horror. Blind to everything, a sobbing Amberlaine had fled the estate. Julian had followed her, unable to bear the pain that seemed to fill the air where she’d been only minutes earlier. The DeLenoir mansion had a haunted cast to it when he landed soundlessly on the roof of the sprawling house. He could feel Amberlaine inside the highest of the towers and moved toward it. Moments later, he was at her side, gathering her close as she shook with the battering sobs that might yet take her sanity from her. He spoke words of comfort and rocked her in his arms, but nothing lessened the tremors and the bloodsoaked tears. “We have to leave here, Amber,” he said several hours later as they clung together in an ungainly heap on the stone floor. “He’s not going to allow you to be free if he returns.” “I’m waiting for the sun, Julian,” she said, her voice a broken rasp of sound. “That’s not the answer.” He smiled, his expression tender. “The easy way to put an end to it, but not an answer.” He touched her face, the caress loving. “Besides, what would I do without you?” “I want to go home, Julian,” she said after a long silence in which she stared out at the thick fog-shrouded night sky. “Home?” “To Pirate’s Cove,” she nodded. “Then home you shall go, Amber,” he promised… They had returned to Pirate’s Cove, Julian and Amberlaine. They’d lived there for many years, and had grown to love each other in a way neither had experienced before. Their love was based on truth, and trust. She’d told him of her discovery, and he’d kept her secret for almost two decades. Alexander had eventually found them, and after raping her body and mind, had turned a frightened town on her. The good citizens of Pirate’s Cove, led by the now totally insane Henry Tarrant, had burned her alive at the stake. Julian had been lured away by Diana. Afterward, in his rage and grief, he’d told her the truth, that she was Alexander’s true daughter, conceived and born in his ancient mortal existence. She’d walked into the sunrise the next day, and he’d been alone ever since. Julian sighed heavily, and a small, frightened voice murmured to his heart; When you are in love with a madman, Julian, his madness becomes all you are, and the darkest

places of the soul become your home. Your descent into darkness is made complete. True death had saved Amberlaine from Alexander’s madness. Hadn’t it? A tremor gathered at the base of his spine, became a shudder, and he suddenly knew she hadn’t been granted release or salvation. That it was about to begin all over again… The End About the Author: Denysé is a native of Atlantic Canada, born in the country’s Easternmost province, Newfoundland, and raised in Nova Scotia. A lifelong dreamer, she began writing at an early age and can’t recall a time when she wasn’t creating in some artistic form. An active interest in the American West, and to a lesser extent the American Civil War, has been a lifelong obsession. Cowboys have been a love affair that began at the tender age of three, and eventually expanded to encompass an equally timeless passion for pirates, Greek Gods, and Ancient Egypt. The other side of the Old West intrigue is an affinity for Victorian England, particularly the 1885-1895 part of the century. As a result of her love of Greek Mythology, Canadian publishing house Edge Science Fiction and Fantasy, has just bought the novel As Fate Decrees, a time-spanning fantasy epic that may, in future, include several sequels. At this point in her career, Denysé has had published in the vicinity of 400 stories and novellas, in almost any genre you can name. “The only thing I haven’t tried yet is hard-core science fiction, and horror. Since I don’t consider vampires as I write them to be the fodder of horror, I classify those stories as Dark Fantasy.” Many of her vampire stories have appeared in Margaret L. Carter’s anthology, The Vampire’s Crypt, and Night To Dawn, published and edited by Dawn Callahan for the first two years, and now published by author/editor Barbara A. Custer. Denysé’s poetry has been published internationally, as well. She has also been the recipient of numerous awards, most notably the Fan Quality Award, which is given annually for excellence in fan-written fictions based on film and television. As of May 2004, there are four awards in her collection, and no less than a dozen nominations to her credit. Also in 2004, Denysé was chosen as a winner in the Amber Heat Wave, an annual contest held by Amber Quill Press. Since then, AQP has published, or have on their “coming soon” pages, no less than two dozen Erotic Romance short stories, novellas, and novels in various genres. One of these novellas, Mirage, is included in the AmberPax collection Suits, Ties, and the Water Cooler, which was nominated for the EPPIE, a prestigious award given for excellence in electronic publishing. More recently, Denysé has formed a partnership with actor/producer/singer Branscombe Richmond to create and write a serial best described as a modern-day western. (Think motorcycles in place of horses!) Installments of the book will begin appearing on websites initially, and hopefully in paperback in a year or so. The first episode appeared in April 2006. Other projects include a new Historical/Western romance, an adventure/fantasy, and possibly a sequel to As Fate Decrees in the near future.

To stay current with all these projects, or to just say hello, please feel free to visit Denysé on the web at: www.denysebridger.com

Meet LSB Authors At The House Of Sin Lsbooks.NET We invite you to visit Liquid Silver Books LSbooks.com for other exciting erotic romances. MOLTEN Silver Edgier, naughtier – from Summer 2006 Featured Series: The Zodiac Series: 12 books, 24 stories and authors Two hot stories for each sign, 12 signs The Coven of the Wolf by Rae Morgan Benevolent lusty witches keep evil forces at bay Fallen: by Tiffany Aaron Fallen angels in hot flight to redeem their wings The Max Series by JB Skully Meet Max, her not-absent dead husband, sexy detective Witt, his mother… And many, many more!