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Declan’s voice startled her and she pushed away from the tomb, pausing as her fangs slid back out of sight before she turned around. The moon cast an eerie shadow across the cemetery and it cloaked Declan in a mist of ethereal light. He looked like a god, and in that moment she hated him—hated everything that he represented because it was something that she could never have.
“Stalker much?” she said. “I don’t like being followed.”
He ignored her sarcastic comment and rested his booted foot on the bottom stair. His gaze slowly traveled the building and paused at the peak.
“DeLacrux,” he murmured. “What is this? Some kind of clubhouse for the undead?”
O’Hara had always been a smart-ass and she gritted her teeth as a muscle flexed sharply across her jaw. She supposed he was right. There were no actual bodies inside. Her immediate family no longer lived in New Orleans. Armand and Jacqueline DeLacrux, her parents, had left well over a century ago. It was never smart to stay in one area for too long. People tended to wonder about the folks who never aged past their early twenties. Last she’d heard, and this was nearly two decades earlier, they’d been in the South of France.
Ana’s lineage could be traced back to the ruling queen, Isobel. She’d been born vampire, as were most of the vampires in existence. To turn a human was forbidden and seen as the ultimate betrayal to their kind. Aside from the fact humans would dilute their bloodlines, most of them didn’t come through the transformation well. They went mad, fueled bloody rampages, and had to be hunted, destroyed.
Jack the Ripper? Classic case.
In her world the rules were archaic. Marriages were arranged, alliances forged.
Ana had a fiancé. Somewhere out there. A reclusive bastard who’d rejected her on sight nearly seventy-five years ago. He’d been a tall Viking—Aleksander, an ancient who’d scared the crap out of her. And though she was grateful for the reprieve, she knew he was still out there, and if the queen wished it, his rejection meant nothing.
She sighed. It was just another thread of her life that was frayed, unfinished.
“Are you all right?” Declan’s voice was quiet and he seemed genuinely concerned. She didn’t want him to be nice right now. She much preferred the friction.
“I’m fine but I’d be way better if I was alone.”
Liar.
His scent drifted lazily on the breeze and her eyes homed in on the pulse that beat at the base of his neck. Did he have to smell so damn good? Ana’s mouth watered as she envisioned her teeth breaking his skin, her tongue lapping at the richness that would spill.
“It’s not safe.” Declan took another step.
No shit. If you were smart you’d book it out of here like yesterday.
She shook her head. “You’re joking, right? I don’t need a babysitter, Declan, so get over it.”
He took another step and then another until he stood just below her. He stared up at her in silence, his dark eyes hiding all sorts of things.
“How do you know Asher?” His question surprised her.
“He’s from New Orleans and I’m from New Orleans. It’s a small community, Declan. Those who are otherworld tend to run in the same circles whether we like each other or not.” She was being vague but really didn’t want to discuss her past with the sorcerer.
Declan took one more step until he was eye level with her.
“Who is Jean-Charles?” His voice was lower, his eyes narrowed.
Ana clenched her jaw as another wave of need rushed over her. He was too close. His scent was intoxicating, earthy, with a hint of pine, or was that sandalwood?
“An ex-lover?”
His lips were open slightly and she focused on them, not really hearing his words. They were beautiful . . . his lips. A mouth made for pleasure. Heat coiled deep in her stomach and a slow flush crept across her cheeks. It was rare for a vampire to get hot, but at the moment, she felt like she’d slipped into a bed of molten lava.
She wanted to cup his chin and taste him. She wanted to pull him close and inhale his sweet fragrance. She wanted his hard body pressed against hers.
Ana licked her lips and growled softly as her incisors broke skin inside her mouth. Who the hell was she kidding? She wanted to sink her fangs deep into his jugular and take from him. Drink his essence and be done with it. Maybe then this longing, this absolute craving she felt for Declan would go away.
“Do it,” he whispered.
She blinked and shook the madness that th
reatened.
