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The woman— her name was Tiffany— turned on the lights, then shrugged out of her jacket and sat down on the sofa, waiting.
Roshan sat beside her, his arm slipping around her shoulders.
Confusion flickered in the woman's eyes. "You're not going to hurt me, are you?"
He glanced at the pulse throbbing in the hollow of her throat. A deep breath filled his nostrils with the scent of vibrant life. "No, Tiffany, not at all." He stroked her cheek. "Close your eyes, my sweet. You won't feel a thing."
The sound of his voice soothed her. She closed her eyes. Her head fell back across his arm, exposing the slender curve of her neck. He ran his fingertips over her skin, then bent down, his tongue laving the sensitive skin below her ear.
She sighed as his teeth grazed her skin. She moaned with pleasure as he took what he needed, made a soft sound of protest when he lifted his head.
"Don't stop." She put her hand behind his head, drawing him toward her once again. "Don't stop."
He closed his eyes, fighting the urge to take what she offered, to drink her life, all of it. Past, present, and future. To drink and drink until he was replete, sated.
But she was the sole support of her family. To deprive her of her life would be to condemn her mother and grandmother to a life of poverty. He knew too well what that was like.
"Not tonight, my sweet," he murmured. "You will sleep now. You will forget me. You will forget any of this happened."
She looked up at him through eyes that were filled with sorrow. "I don't want to forget."
"I know." His gaze trapped hers, his mind sifting through her memories of the past half hour. "But you will forget," he said quietly.
A tear rolled down her cheek and then her expression went blank. A moment later, she was asleep. Rising, he left the building. When the woman awoke, she would have no memory of him or of anything that had happened after she left the nightclub.
Whistling softly, he went home.
He paused on the front steps, his head tilted back to look up at the stars wheeling high overhead. Eternity dwelled there, beyond the white expanse of the Milky Way. How many times had he stood thus, contemplating the hereafter, wondering what awaited him should death find him? In the course of his existence, he had killed countless times, sometimes in self-defense, sometimes because the temptation to drink his fill was more than he could withstand. Would he be called to answer for all the lives he had taken, or just those he had taken because he was too weak to resist? Would he writhe in the flames of an unforgiving hell forever, or was there redemption even for one such as he? He had not asked for the Dark Gift. Would he be punished for what he had done to survive?
He blew out a sigh. He regretted the lives he had taken. Not long ago, he had considered ending his own existence, but then he had found Brenna. She had added meaning and luster to his life, given him something to look forward to when the moon chased the sun from the sky.
A shift in the wind carried her scent to him. He turned toward her window. An errant breeze carried the fragrance of her hair, her skin, her very being.
A thought carried him to her bedside. She slept on her back, her face turned away from him. Moonlight filtered through the window, casting her face in light and shadow. She was quite the loveliest creature he had seen in centuries. And she was here, in his house. In his bed. His for the taking…
Though he had just fed, the beast stirred deep within him. Leaning down, he gently brushed a lock of hair away from the side of her neck. He could see her pulse beating there, slow and steady. He stroked it with his fingertip, felt his own heart begin to beat in time with hers.
His mouth watered.
His fangs lengthened in response to the turn of his thoughts.
One taste.
What could it hurt?
He ran his tongue across the silky warmth of her skin, closed his eyes in sensual pleasure, and then, quietly cursing himself, he pierced her tender flesh. It was the tiniest of bites, hardly more than a scratch, yielding only a few drops of blood. But it was enough. Enough to tell him that he could never let her go.
He closed the wound with a stroke of his tongue and then, muttering a vile oath, he turned and fled the room before he surrendered to the demon within him.
She dreamed, a dark, sensual dream, and in her dream she saw a man standing in the shadows, a tall, broad-shouldered man clad in a long black cloak. He blended into the darkness as though he were darkness itself. She couldn't see his face but she knew it was him, the stranger, Roshan DeLongpre. She could feel his supernatural power crawling over her skin, sense his gaze upon her face. His loneliness whispered to her, a wordless cry of desolation and pain that sank deep into her heart. She reached for him and he backed away, stepping into a pool of moonlight that cast silver shadows in his long black hair. She saw the sadness in his dark eyes, yearned to comfort him. She reached for him again, felt a sudden rush of motion, a subtle shift in the fabric of the night, and she was no longer standing outside but lying in her bed overshadowed by a dark presence. Fear roiled deep in the pit of her stomach. She saw a flash of sharp white teeth, opened her mouth in a silent scream as she felt the prick of fangs at her throat…
Brenna woke to the sound of her own screams. Sitting up, she turned on the light beside her bed, her gaze darting around the room. A faint breeze ruffled the curtains at the window. She frowned, certain that she had closed the windows before she went to bed.
Rising, she went into the bathroom and turned on the light, then looked into the mirror on the medicine cabinet. It was, she realized, the only mirror in the house. Holding her hair back, she turned her head from side to side. There! Was that a bite? Fear congealed in the pit of her stomach. She leaned closer to the mirror, her eyes narrowed in concentration, and then she frowned. She would have sworn there was a bite there a moment ago but now it was gone. Had she imagined it?
With a sigh, she turned off the light and went back to bed, one arm curling around Morgana, grateful for the cat's presence. And then she noticed the cat was staring at the window, a low growl rumbling in her throat.
Fear clutched at Brenna's heart once more. "Who's there? Roshan, is that you?"
He materialized in a swirl of sparkling silver motes to stand before her. Even in the unfamiliar light cast by the strange lamp beside her bed, he seemed to be a part of the night.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
He glanced at her neck. "I heard your scream."
The skin beneath her ear felt suddenly hot and she covered it with her hand. "What have you done to me?" she asked, her voice hushed. "Have you made me what you are?"
