The Vampire's Kiss

  “We have to stop him,” she said, her hands clenched. “We can’t let him hurt anyone else.”

  William nodded. Too many people had already died.

  Savannah’s eyes narrowed. “There’s something else, isn’t there? Something you’re not telling me.”

  Surprise shot through him. How had she known? He’d grown amazingly adept at hiding his feelings. “Yes, there’s more.”

  “Tell me.”

  She stood before him, looking for all the world as if a strong wind would blow her down. But her gaze was filled with such strength, such courage. It was time for the truth. “His name is Geoffrey.”

  “Geoffrey,” she repeated the name softly. A smile of satisfaction curved her lips.

  William could read her so easily. She had a focus now, a name. Before, she’d only had shadows. A monster waiting in the darkness. Now she had a name, a target for her anger, her hate.

  Her gaze sharpened upon him. “How do you know him?” She asked.

  “He’s my half-brother.”

  “What?”

  He steeled himself for her rage. For her rejection. “Geoffrey de Montfort is my half-brother.”

  She shook her head in vehement denial. “No. No, that can’t be.”

  “You read the diary,” he reminded her brutally. “You know that I had two brothers. Henry and Geoffrey. One golden like the day, and the other with a soul as dark as the night itself.”

  “But how—”

  “How is he alive? How is he here, now, to kill?” William’s lips twisted. “He’s my blood. He shares the same curse that I do.” They were bound by their heritage. Bound to walk the earth, to feel the eternal hunger.

  Suspicion filled her stare. “You knew,” she whispered. “You knew he was killing, didn’t you? That’s why you were in Panama City and in Atlanta. You knew what he was doing!”

  How had she known about Panama City and Atlanta? He thought that he’d covered his presence well in those cities. Yes, he’d known that Geoffrey was out of control, that he was out to kill, to destroy everyone that he could. “I knew.” Simple, flat.

  “And you didn’t stop him?” She shoved against him, pushing with all of her strength against his chest. He didn’t move. “Why didn’t you stop him, you bastard? Why?” She shoved him again.

  William caught her hands, easily holding them within his grasp. He opened his mouth to reply, but closed it instead. He should have stopped Geoffrey. He should have stopped him years ago. He was responsible for the evil that his brother had wrought.

  “He killed Mark. He killed Sharon, and God knows how many other people! If you knew what he was doing, why didn’t you stop him?”

  He’d tried. He’d tried to stop Geoffrey. He’d tried to stop him on that bloody battlefield in France. They’d fought for hours, until their bones were broken, until their strength was all but gone. He’d had the stake against Geoffrey’s heart. He’d been seconds away from ending his brother’s life. And then he’d looked into his brother’s eyes . . .

  And seen Henry staring back at him.

  For a moment, he’d lost his focus, his strength.

  A moment was all the time that Geoffrey had needed. Geoffrey had knocked William aside and fled as fast as he could.

  William had been tracking his brother since then, following him around the globe. Finding dead bodies in every city, but never arriving in time to stop his brother.

  “I was too late,” he finally told Savannah. “Each time, I was too late.” The memory of Geoffrey’s victims burned him. He could still see them, see their blank eyes and white bodies. See the fear etched on their frozen faces.

  Those faces would haunt him for eternity.

  “Each time?” Savannah swallowed. Her lips trembled faintly. “Do you mean you were there? When he was killing, you were there?”

  Ah. There it was. The fear. The revulsion. He’d known it would come. He turned from her, not wanting to face that look, not wanting to see her condemning gaze. “You have to understand. He’s as old as I am, as strong as I am. I’ve been tracking him for centuries. Whenever I would get close, when I thought that I had him, he’d slip away. And there would be another trail of blood for me to follow.” William knew that Geoffrey had deliberately left many of his kills for him to find. It was yet another way his brother enjoyed tormenting him.

  “We have to stop him.” Her voice was soft, but firm. “We can’t let him hurt anyone else.” She touched his shoulder lightly.

  William spun around. He couldn’t believe that she would want to speak to him, much less touch him, after knowing the truth.

  “We have to stop him,” she repeated softly, staring up at him with a solemn gaze.

  “We will.” It was a vow. William would not rest until Geoffrey had been destroyed.

  A faint line marred her brow. “Will you be able to do it?”

  He nodded. He would do whatever was necessary to stop Geoffrey.

  “Are you certain?” Savannah asked. “Will you be able to destroy your brother?”

  A wave of sadness washed through him. He’d done it before. “I’ll do what must be done.” And he meant it. There was no way that he would allow Savannah to be hurt by his brother.

  She touched his cheek. Her fingers felt soft against him. “You’ve had so much sorrow in your life. So much pain,” she said.

  He said nothing. No one had ever offered him sympathy before. No one had cared.

  “I’m sorry, William.”

  She was sorry? His brother was terrorizing her, had killed her family, and she was apologizing to him?

  “I wish . . .” A sad smile curved her lips. “I wish your life had been different.”

  For a thousand years, he’d prayed for a different life. But God had long ago turned his back on him. “Don’t waste your time wishing. You can’t change what is.” He stepped back from her, suddenly needing to have some space between them. Needing to escape from the sympathy, from the pity, he saw in her eyes.

  “I’ll help you. I’ll transform you and teach you everything that you need to know about a vampire’s strength. We’ll find Geoffrey, and we’ll destroy him. You have my promise.” His gaze traveled over her body, down from her beautiful face to her high, firm breasts. Slowly, so slowly, his gaze lowered, dropping to her slender hips and her long, long legs. “In return, I want what you’ve promised me.” He didn’t want her sympathy. He wanted her body, hot and needy, straining against his. “I want you.” Now. In front of the blazing fire.

  Savannah lifted her chin. “I’ve given my word. I won’t back down.”

  He smiled, showing his fangs. “Good. Then let’s begin . . .”

  Chapter Seven

  William has been sent on a devil’s mission. I pray he returns to me in time . . .

  —Entry from the diary of Henry de Montfort,

  November 30, 1068

  SAVANNAH WOULDN’T give him the satisfaction of seeing her fear. She hid her trembling hands behind her body and faced him, her stare direct. “I’m ready.”

  He laughed softly, the sound dark and sensuous. The sound wrapped around her, sliding through her. She took a deep breath.

  He began to walk around her, inching his body ever closer to hers. She could smell him. The scent of man. Of dark nights and mystery.

  He was studying her, his hot stare traveling over every inch of her body.

  “You’re not ready,” he whispered, moving to stand directly behind her. She could feel his breath tickling the delicate skin of her neck. He leaned forward, putting his mouth next to her ear. “Not yet. But you will be.”

  He pulled her hair to the side, exposing the skin of her throat. He blew gently against her nape, and a shiver slid through her body. She closed her eyes, trying to shut him out, to block her own
rioting emotions. Was he going to do it now? Was he going to claim her body now?

  She felt his lips, moving lightly against her skin. His tongue, licking her neck ever so delicately. She moaned, the sound slipping past her lips before she could stop it.

  His arm, a band of steel, circled her waist and pulled her back against the hard cradle of his body. She could feel him, feel the rigid length of his desire pressing against her hip.

  She took a deep breath, and arched against him.

  This time, he was the one who moaned. The sound was low, ragged, full of need.

  “Sweet Savannah,” he whispered, licking her vulnerable throat. “I want to taste you, all of you.”

  His hand moved under her shirt, pushing the soft cotton aside as he stoked the skin of her stomach. “You’re so soft. Like silk.”

  His fingers felt rough, yet his touch was incredibly gentle. His hand lifted, moving up her rib cage and toward the rise of her breasts.

  Heat pooled low in her belly. Her nipples tightened in anticipation. And she knew that she’d never wanted anyone the way she wanted William.

  His hand cradled her breast, lightly teasing the nipple through the lacy covering of her bra. His other arm locked her hips against his, and he pushed against her. His tongue continued to stroke her throat. Long, sensuous licks of his tongue flicked against her skin. She felt the edge of his incisors press against her.

  Her eyes flew open, and she stared into the fire. The flames burned, strong and bright. Like the desire that raged through her.

  He growled, spinning her around in a quick move that left her gasping for breath. He stared down at her. His eyes were black, deep pools of black desire. She could see the edge of his fangs. White, gleaming.

  “Take off your shirt,” he ordered, his gaze locked on her face.

  Before, with her back to him, it had been different. She’d been lost to his touch, to the magic of the feelings flowing through her. Now, standing face-to-face with him, she felt suddenly awkward, shy.

  But she wouldn’t back down. Her hands shook as she reached for the bottom of her shirt. She pulled it up quickly, and then she tossed the garment onto a nearby chair. She took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of the fire against her skin. She looked up, staring into his swirling gaze.

  What would he think of her? She knew her breasts were small, that her skin was too pale. He’d undoubtedly been with dozens of women. Beautiful women with perfect bodies. She would never measure up to them.

  His stare dropped, and he stared at the lacy black bra she wore. It was small, just scraps of lace. He licked his lips.

  Savannah swallowed.

  “Now your jeans,” he said, his voice guttural. His cheeks were flushed and his jaw was clenched.

  Savannah kicked off her shoes and pushed off her socks. She took a deep breath, and her fingers lifted to the button at her waist. She fumbled, struggling with the clasp. Her hands shook as she slowly slid down the zipper. In seconds, she’d pushed the jeans away, and she stood before him, clad only in the thin black lace of her bra and panties.

  He stared at her, his gaze traveling over her like a physical touch. “You’re beautiful. Every inch of you.”

  He stepped toward her. His hands lifted, locking around her waist. He pulled her against him, against the rough fabric of his shirt and pants. She gasped, her skin feeling hypersensitive.

  He lowered his head, and his lips locked on hers. His tongue pushed boldly into her mouth. She met him full force, kissing him with all of the desire she had.

  She felt her bra drop to the floor, and she wondered when he’d unhooked it. Then his hands were on her body, and she stopped thinking at all.

  His fingers plucked at her nipples, squeezing and releasing the tight buds. Her knees shook, and she leaned into his touch. His head lowered, and he began to lick and suckle his way down her body. His tongue felt like rough silk.

  He lowered her onto the hard wooden floor. It felt cold against her back. But she didn’t care. His lips were locked on her nipple, and he was licking her, suckling her hungrily.

  She moaned. Never had she felt such need. She lifted her lower body, arching against him. She felt so empty. She needed him, needed him to fill the emptiness inside of her.

  She felt his pants against the tender skin of her thighs. She wanted to feel him.

  “Your clothes,” she gasped. “Take off your clothes. I want to—”

  Before she could finish the sentence, his clothes melted away. Her eyes widened in shock. How had he—

  He spread her legs, positioning his body carefully against her. His mouth continued to lick her breasts, to stroke and arouse. His hand slid down, over the curve of her stomach and then to the curling patch of red hair at the juncture of her thighs. He parted her tender folds, and his fingers began to stroke her. A choked cry slipped past her lips.

  He growled, and his mouth suckled harder.

  One of his fingers moved to her opening. Her hips moved frantically. She could feel the tension tightening through her body. She needed him, needed him desperately. Her head thrashed.

  His finger slid inside.

  She gasped.

  He lifted his head, staring down at her with eyes that glowed red.

  “You’re wet for me, Savannah. I can feel your need.”

  His finger stroked deeper, moving in and out of her body in a light rhythm.

  It wasn’t enough. Her body shook. She needed more. She needed him.

  “William!” She shuddered, pressing her body against his hand.

  “You’re so tight.” He licked the curve of her breast. “But you’ll take me, won’t you? You’ll take me into your beautiful body.”

  His thumb pressed against her, and the tension in her body mounted. Heat flashed through her, and she strained, desperate for a release from the savage hunger sweeping through her.

  She’d never felt such need. Her body ached, throbbed. She was struggling desperately for relief, an ease to the pounding need that swept through her. “I can’t—I can’t—” Savannah didn’t know what she needed, what would stop the fire that burned her.

  William knew. He moved, pressing his erection against her moist opening. “Look at me,” he growled. The tip of his shaft penetrated her. “Look at me!”

  Her gaze snapped to meet his. His face was carved in harsh lines of need. Of hunger.

  “There’s no going back, Savannah.”

  He thrust against her, a strong, deep thrust that pushed him fully into her body. Savannah cried out at the unexpected pain.

  He froze and stared at her, his expression shocked. He held his body still within her. Sweat broke out on his brow.

  Savannah’s body slowly relaxed around him as the burning pain faded to a slow throb. “It’s all right,” she whispered. “I’m okay now.” She moved her hips slightly against his.

  His control shattered. A low growl rumbled in his throat, the sound like that of a wild beast. His hands lifted her, positioning her legs around his waist and holding her body tightly against his. He thrust into her, deep and hard. Again and again.

  And her need returned. Desire tore through her. With every thrust of his hips, he sent her higher, closer to the edge of burning pleasure. She could feel him all around her. In her. So strong.

  He moved her hips, pushing deeper into her than ever before. Savannah’s body tightened. His hand slid between their bodies and he touched her, just one touch.

  She exploded. Pleasure roared through her body. She screamed his name.

  He kept thrusting against her. Deeper. Harder. He lowered his head. She felt his breath against her neck. Felt the scrape of his teeth.

  Impossibly, she felt her body struggling for another release. The tension within her wound tighter. Tighter.

 
His teeth plunged into her neck. Burning pleasure ripped through her. He thrust into her one more time and spilled himself into her, his body shuddering.

  The cord of tension snapped. Her body convulsed in a climax so intense she sobbed. Lights flashed before her eyes and then faded to darkness.

  Complete darkness.

  HER NECK FELT SORE.

  Savannah frowned, feeling the pain dimly. Why was her neck sore? What had—

  Her eyelids snapped open.

  William was frowning down at her. His hair had come free of its tie, and the dark mass hung loosely around his bare shoulders. He looked fierce. Dangerous. But then again, he always looked dangerous. There was no hiding the true nature of the beast.

  She tried to sit up, but he put his hands on her shoulders, holding her easily in place. “Don’t move.” There was a trace of gruffness in his tone. “Your body’s weak.”

  She nodded. Her limbs felt heavy and a deep lethargy filled her.

  “It’s from the blood loss.” His assessing gaze traveled over her. “I took too much from you. I should have used more care—” His jaw clenched, and the scar on his cheek seemed to whiten even more. He looked up, gazing into the flames. “There’s no excuse. I’m sorry, Savannah.”

  There was such sadness in his words. She didn’t want William to be sad. He’d had enough pain in his life. “I wanted you to do it. You know that.” She’d wanted him to do everything. Wanted him to claim her body. To take her blood.

  “I should have had more control.” His hands clenched around her shoulders. She flinched at the painful grip, and his hold immediately eased.

  “I didn’t have much control, either.” Her lips curved in a wan smile.

  He searched her face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Tell you?” She swallowed, trying to ease the dryness in her throat. “Tell you what?”