hesitated only a moment, battling the ancient urge to drive his fangs into her throat, to mingle her blood with his.
Instead, he kissed her gently, careful not to bruise her tender flesh. As if she were made of glass that might shatter at the slightest touch, he held her in his arms, his body basking in her warmth, in the essence of life that flowed through her.
Holding her close, he was keenly aware of the vast gulf between them. She was light and hope and innocence, children playing in the sun, lovers strolling on the beach on a hot summer day, all the things that were forever lost to him. He was the essence of darkness. It permeated his life and shrouded his soul. He groaned low in his throat, his arms tightening around her, as he sought to draw a part of her goodness into himself.
In the beginning, after he had resigned himself to Jolene's loss, to the fact that he was forever different, forever cursed, he had gloried in being a vampire. His hearing was keen, his eyesight much improved. He discovered he could cover great distances with preternatural speed. He had thought the taste of blood would disgust him, but it was a part of what he had become, and he had learned to accept it. What could not be changed must be endured.
In the beginning he had not realized how long forever was. He had not understood how truly alienated he was from the rest of mankind. With the coming of awareness, he had lost himself in learning. Later, he had discovered to his amazement that he could paint, and he had spent a century perfecting his talent, and when he grew bored with painting, he had tried his hand at writing.
It had come easily to him, and he had written scores of novels, many of which he had sold. And when writing lost its charm, he had turned into a vagabond, traveling from one end of the world to the other, but nowhere had he found a sense of home, of belonging, and so he had come back to America, a land where the bizarre was taken for granted, a place where a man who lived like a recluse was not considered odd at all.
But now Leanne was here, in his arms, and for the first time in three hundred years he felt a sense of belonging.
"Leanne," he murmured. "Can you save me, I wonder."
She drew back, a frown furrowing her brow. "Save you?"
Only then did he realize he'd spoken aloud.
"Save you from what?"
"Nothing." He gazed into her eyes, knowing the hunger was glowing in his own. "We'd better go back."
She didn't argue, only continued to stare up at him, her expression filled with concern and another emotion he could not quite fathom. Was it fear?
And then, to his surprise, she gently stroked his cheek. "Don't be afraid, Jason," she said quietly. "You're not alone anymore."
Before he could absorb the meaning of her words, a dog came charging through the trees, saliva dripping from its massive jaws.
Instantly, Jason thrust Leanne behind him, putting himself between her and the animal's slathering jaws. A sharp command kept Lucifer from bolting down the hill.
Summoning his dark power, Jason fixed his gaze on the dog. As though it had slammed into a brick wall, the beast came to an abrupt halt. Whining softly, it eyed Jason for a moment, then turned and ran, its tail between its legs.
Leanne blew out the breath she'd been holding. Never had she seen anything like that in her life.
"We'd best go," Jason said, and before she had time to argue, before she had time to ask questions, he lifted her onto the back of the horse, then swung up effortlessly behind her and kicked the stallion into a canter.
When they reached the house, he lifted Leanne from the back of the horse, then put the stallion into the corral and latched the gate.
"Jason, that dog?"
"It's getting late." He drew her into his arms and kissed her. "Will you be all right getting home?"
"Fine," she murmured, all thought of the dog forgotten in the afterglow of his kiss.
"Will I see you tomorrow?"
"I'm counting on it."
Jason nodded. He yearned to read her mind, to discover what she thought of him, but for the first time in his life, he could not bring himself to steal his way into another's thoughts.
"Goodnight, Jason. Sleep well."
He kissed her once more, briefly, sweetly, and then, reluctantly, he let her