Enchant the Night. Amanda Ashley
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at him surreptitiously from time to time, thinking he looked devastatingly handsome in a pair of black jeans and a pullover sweater the same shade of dark gray as his eyes. And then she frowned. “Where did you get those clothes?”
“I made a quick trip to my lair.”
“Your lair?” Animals had lairs. People had homes.
“Where I take my rest.”
“And where might that be?”
“I’m afraid that’s something I never share.”
“Is it nearby?”
His gaze assessed hers. “Why do you want to know?”
“You know where I live,” she said with a shrug. “Turnabout is fair play, don’t you think?”
“Ordinarily, yes. But in this case, it’s better for both of us if that remains a mystery.”
Callie mulled that over. Surely he wasn’t afraid of her? Maybe he was worried that she might betray him if she knew. She wanted to believe that was something she would never do, but in reality, she feared that, under certain circumstances, she might tell his enemies anything they wanted to know.
Quill smiled as he followed her train of thought. The longer he knew her, the better he liked her.
“How long are you planning to stay at my house?” she asked as they turned onto her street.
“Would you like me to leave?”
She started to say yes, but the words died, unspoken. The truth was, she liked having him there. Until she met Quill, her life had been dull and predictable. Save for Vivian, she had few close friends. Most of the girls she had known in college had married or moved away.
When they reached home, Quill held the door for her, then followed her inside.
Callie went into the kitchen for a can of soda. When she returned to the living room, he was sitting on the sofa, his long legs stretched out in front of him, one arm resting along the back of the couch. His gaze met hers, a question in his eyes.
She hesitated for the space of a heartbeat, then went to sit beside him. A million butterflies took wing in the pit of her stomach when he slipped his arm around her shoulders. She looked up at him, suddenly breathless as he took the soda from her hand, placed it on the coffee table, and drew her into his embrace.
For a time, he simply held her. Not so tightly that she felt trapped. She met his gaze, wondering what secrets lay hidden in the depths of his eyes. Anticipation thrummed through every fiber of her being as he lowered his head. She had expected him to bite her, felt an unexpected thrill of excitement when his mouth claimed hers.
His lips were firm and cool, his tongue hot as it swept over her lower lip. Leaning into him, she moaned softly as he deepened the kiss. She clung to him as the world spun out of focus and there was only the two of them, mouths fused together, bodies straining to be closer as his tongue tangled with hers. When he lifted his head, she whimpered softly.
“Callie.”
It took a moment for his voice, husky with longing, to penetrate the fog of desire that engulfed her.
Extricating himself from her grasp, he muttered, “Callie, we need to stop.”
She looked up at him, a rush of embarrassment flooding her cheeks. Never in all her life had she behaved so wantonly with a man, let alone one who was pretty much a stranger. And certainly strange, she thought with a faint grin.
His knuckles brushed her cheek. “You are the most desirable woman I’ve ever known.”
Did he honestly expect her to believe that? The man had lived for six centuries. He must have known literally hundreds of women. Made love to hundreds of women more beautiful and certainly more experienced than she.
Taking her hand in his, he said, “I’m a man, not a monk, sweet Callie. But I’ve never met anyone like you. Never wanted a woman as desperately as I want you. But passion and love are not the same thing, and I want your heart and soul before I take you to my bed.”
Rising, he bowed over her hand and kissed it. “I have to go out for a while. Keep your doors locked.”
“Where are you going?”
He hesitated a moment before saying, “I need to feed.”
She frowned. “But . . .”
“I would rather drink from you, my sweet girl.” He trailed his fingertips along the side of her neck. “But I don’t want you to think of yourself as prey, because you mean so much more to me than that. Do you understand?”
She nodded, though she couldn’t help feeling a twinge of jealousy at the thought of him drinking from someone else. And how sick was that?
He was still holding her hand. Heat suffused her when he turned it over and ran his tongue over her palm. “I won’t be gone long,” he murmured, and vanished from her sight.
He wanted her love, Callie mused as she kicked off her shoes, then padded into her bedroom. His declaration had come as a complete surprise. Just thinking about it made her smile. Slipping into her pajamas, she had to admit that falling in love with Quill wouldn’t be hard at all.
Returning to the living room, Callie picked up her soda and sipped it slowly while she recalled their conversation. He was six hundred years old. He hadn’t said as much, but it didn’t sound like he had ever married. He’d said he had never fathered a child. She found that odd, somehow. Surely, in six hundred years he would have impregnated at least one of the many women he’d seduced, whether on purpose or by accident.
She wondered if his lair was nearby. And what it looked like. Was it dark and dreary like in the movie Dracula? Did it have dusty, winding staircases, and lacy cobwebs in every corner? A Renfield lurking in the shadows? A coffin filled with earth in the basement?
Had he meant it when he’d said he had never wanted another woman the way he wanted her? She still found that hard to believe. She wasn’t a raving beauty, didn’t possess any rare or unusual talents. She was just Callie Hathaway, she thought dryly. Vampire magnet.
The thought made her laugh so hard she almost choked on her soda.
* * *
Quill fed quickly. It was remarkably satisfying, but all the while, he wished it was Callie in his arms, Callie’s sweet blood warming him. He had known her only a few days and yet, for reasons he did not understand, she had become the most important thing in his life. Her lack of fear baffled him. He knew she was afraid of what he was, but it wasn’t the instinctive terror most people experienced. And he wondered again what there was about her blood that set her apart and why he couldn’t recall where he had tasted something similar before.
He was on his way back to her house when he sensed the presence of one of the Knights of the Dark Wood. From what little he had learned about their secret society through the years, he knew there were always thirteen of them. With two dead, he had expected the rest to return home and initiate two more.
Apparently, he had been mistaken.
Chapter 6
The Knight known as Trey 95 paused in the shadowy darkness, one hand reaching for the silver-bladed knife at his side when the ivory medallion at his throat began to hum. Every Knight wore a similar pendant. Each one had been enchanted by a Dark Witch to alert the Knights to the presence of one or more of the Hungarian vampires.
Hatred burned like acid in his gut as he rushed forward, eager to destroy the beast who had killed two of his companions.
He had been ordered back to the Dark Wood to approve the initiation of two new Knights, but he had refused to obey. His twin brother had been one of the men the vampire had killed. He would not return to the Dark Wood until he had separated the vampire’s head from his body and burned the remains. Only then would his thirst for vengeance be satisfied.