Deeper than the Night - By Amanda Ashley Page 0,11

blot it all from her mind . . . .

A vile oath escaped his lips, and then he was running through the darkness, running away from smooth, suntanned skin and sky-blue eyes, from lips the color of summer roses. Running from the ancient curse that tainted his very soul.

But he could not outrun the memory of her smile, or the soft, sultry sound of her voice.

Back in his own house, he slumped in the chair in front of his computer, wondering why he suddenly felt compelled to write the story of his own life instead of the fiction that came so easily to him.

In all the centuries of his existence, he had refused to dwell on the past. Once he had resigned himself to his fate, he had embraced it. To do otherwise was unthinkable. It was the only way to hang onto his sanity. There was no way back, no point in wallowing in self-pity. No point in lamenting over that which had been forever lost to him.

There had been a short period of time when he had mourned his wife and daughter, when he had mourned his old life, and then he had put the memories behind him, refusing to acknowledge the grief and the pain.

So why, he wondered, why now?

The answer was ridiculously simple, and amazingly complex.

It was because of Kara. Something about her reminded him of AnnaMara, made him yearn for the life he had lost, made him achingly aware of the fact that he was not a mortal man in the true sense of the word.

As always, when he was troubled, he sought escape in whatever book he was working on.

Leaning forward, he switched on the computer. For a moment, he stared at the blank blue screen, and then he pulled up the document he wanted and began to read, starting at page one.
THE DARK GIFT Chapter 1
Chapter 1

I was born in a small village in Rumania, the youngest of seven sons. There was an old legend that decreed that the seventh son of a seventh son was destined to become a vampire. As a child, the thought terrified me. Vampires lived in darkness and drank the blood of the living. The thought of drinking blood sickened me, but it was the thought of dwelling forever in darkness that left me numb with fear, for I had a deep and abiding fear of the night. As far back as I could remember, my dreams had been haunted by nameless terrors. Numerous times I had begged my mother to tell me it wasn't true, that I would not grow up to be a vampire. Numerous times she had held me in her arms and assured me that it was only an old wives' tale. Why did I never see the truth in her eyes?

As I grew older, my dreams grew more intense. The terror that haunted me was no longer nameless, or faceless. It was a woman who embodied the terror that haunted my nights, a woman with olive-hued skin and hair as black as coal. A woman whose amber eyes burned with the fires of the damned.

When I turned two-and-twenty, I fell in love with the blacksmith's daughter. A year later, we were married, and for the next five years I knew only happiness. Our one sadness was that AnnaMara failed to conceive, but I, being somewhat selfish, did not mind. I wanted only AnnaMara. My nightmares had ceased long since. My fear of the dark was swallowed up in AnnaMara's sweet embrace. And then, late one night while we lay entwined in each other's arms, she told me she was carrying my child. Only then did I realize what true joy was. Ah, those blissful days and nights when life was full and perfect, when my love's belly swelled with child, and each day saw our love grow stronger, deeper.

Our daughter was born on a sunlit morning in early spring. She died the following dawn, and her mother with her. Unfortunate, the midwife said. The child had come too soon; AnnaMara died of childbed fever. I buried them on a windswept hill, my wife, my daughter, and my heart.

The nightmares came back that night. . . .

Alexander sat back in his chair and stretched his legs. He had named his heroine after his consort. AnnaMara, with hair like yellow silk and eyes as brown as the soil of earth. He had not willingly thought of her in centuries, yet now, just seeing her name