~ * ~
When he woke late the next day, still in her arms, he was embarrassed to face her.
Kadie stroked the hair from his brow. “That must have been some nightmare.”
Refusing to look at her, he grunted softly.
“From the things you said in your sleep, I guessed you were dreaming about the past.”
“My days as a knight,” he said, still not looking at her. “The years after I was first turned.”
She nodded. During their life together, he had told her bits and pieces of his past. She knew there were dark times when he was ridden with guilt for the lives he had thoughtlessly taken.
His gaze searched hers. “Knowing what I’m capable of, why do you stay with me?”
“Because I love you more than anything else in all the world. And because you need me.”
He grunted softly, but didn’t reply.
In her mind’s eye, she saw the beautiful tapestry that hung in one of the turret rooms back home. It depicted Rylan as a knight clad in chain mail mounted on a rearing black charger. Over the chain mail, he wore a white surcoat emblazoned with a red cross. He held a wicked-looking sword in one hand and a shield in the other. Hard to believe he had lived so long ago. Or that she loved him so desperately. He was so handsome and strong,so blatantly male that everything female within her responded to his scent, his touch, the seductive sound of his voice. She had fought him in the beginning, perhaps knowing deep inside that once she surrendered, she would be lost forever.
She wished suddenly that she had known him back when he was a knight. Had he participated in the jousts? Had beautiful woman given him their tokens to carry? She was certain he had been gorgeous and sexy as a human male, though perhaps not quite as irresistible as he was now.
Vampires had an innate allure that drew humans, making it easier to attract their prey.
She sighed as she imagined him carrying her off to his castle. And then she frowned. Was it possible the curse or whatever was tormenting him had been spawned in the distant past? She gave her mind a mental shake, thinking it was a ridiculous notion. Plague or curse, it didn’t matter. For better or worse, she had tied her life to his. Whatever the future held, she would have no regrets.
Chapter Eleven
Saintcrow stood at the end of the Morgan Creek bridge. A deep breath carried the scent of three young vampires lurking in the dark across the highway. Stepping past the wards that kept them out of the town, he dissolved into mist and crossed the road, then followed their scent.
He found them sitting at a camp table behind some tall brush. Two men and a woman. All fledglings.
They sprang to their feet when he materialized in front of them, their eyes wide with surprise. And fear.
He trapped them with his gaze before they could decide what to do. “You,” he said, calling to the female. “Come here.”
She cast a frightened glance at her comrades and then moved woodenly toward him, her anxiety a palpable stink in the air.
“Want a taste of my blood, do you?” Saintcrow asked.
She stared at him, too frightened to answer, even though there was a glitter of blood-lust in her wide blue eyes.
“Drink,” he said, and held out his arm, giving her easy access to his wrist.
She quickly closed the distance between them. Grasping his arm in both hands, she bit him somewhat hesitantly. One taste and she buried her fangs in his wrist and drank.
He let her drink for thirty seconds then said, “Enough.”
She backed away, licking the last crimson drops of his blood from her lips.
Saintcrow watched her carefully. Would his blood destroy her? And if it was toxic, would it kill her immediately? Willing her to stay where she was, he called the younger of the two males.
There was no fear in the male’s eyes, only an eager lust for blood as he contemplated drinking from a master vampire.
“Go on,” Saintcrow said. “Drink.”
He didn’t have to tell the vampire twice. The male sank his fangs into his wrist and drank as if he hadn’t had any nourishment in weeks.
