voice melted her body so it was soft and yielding like honey. She wanted to cry out a protest. His voice matched his angel face, hiding the demon in him. Stubbornly she shook her head. “I won’t see you like that.”
“How do you see me?” He asked it curiously. “How do you know my face?” He knew her. Her heart. Her soul. He had known nothing of her face or her body. Not even her mind. He had done her the courtesy of not invading her thoughts, but if she persisted in trying to kill him, he would have no choice.
“You’re a monster without equal. I’ve seen your kind, and I won’t be fooled by the face you’ve chosen to wear. It’s an illusion like everything else about you.” She kept her eyes squeezed tight. She couldn’t bear to be lost in his black gaze again. She couldn’t bear to look upon the face she had loved for so long. “If you are going to kill me, just do it; get it over with.” There was resignation in her voice.
“Why do you think I would want to harm you?” His fingers moved gently around her hand. “Let go of the knife, piccola. I cannot have you hurting yourself in any way. You cannot fight me; there is no way to do so. What is between us is inevitable. Let go of the weapon, be calm, and let us sort this out.”
Sara slowly allowed her fingers to open. She didn’t want the knife anyway. She already knew she could never plunge it into his heart. Her mind might have been willing but her heart would never allow such an atrocity. Her unwillingness made no sense. She had so carefully prepared for just such a moment, but the monster wore the face of her dark angel. How could she ever have prepared for such an unlikely event?
“What is your name?” Falcon removed the knife from her trembling fingers, snapped the blade easily with pressure from his thumb, and tossed it across the room. His palm slid over her hand with a gentle stroke to ease the tension from her.
“Sara. Sara Marten.” She steeled herself to look into his beautiful face. The face of a man perfectly sculpted by time and honor and integrity. A mask unsurpassed in artistic beauty.
“I am called Falcon.”
Her eyes flew open at his revelation. She recognized his name. I am Falcon and I will never know you, but I have left this gift behind for you, a gift of the heart. She shook her head in agitation. “That can’t be.” Her eyes searched his face, tears glittering in them again. “That can’t be,” she repeated. “Am I losing my mind?” It was possible, perhaps even inevitable. She hadn’t considered such a possibility.
His hands framed her face. “You believe me to be the undead. The vampire. You have seen such a creature.” He made it a statement, a raw fact. Of course she had. She would never have attacked him otherwise. He felt the sudden thud of his heart, fear rising to terror. In all his centuries of existence, he had never known such an emotion before. She had been alone, unprotected, and she had met the most evil of all creatures, nosferatu.
She nodded slowly, watching him carefully. “I have escaped him many times. I nearly managed to kill him once.”
Sara felt his great body tremble at her words. “You tried such a thing? The vampire is one of the most dangerous creatures on the face of this earth.” There was a wealth of reprimand in his voice. “Perhaps you should tell me the entire story.”
Sara blinked at him. “I want to get up.” She felt very vulnerable lying pinned to the floor beneath him, at a great disadvantage looking up into his beloved face.
He sighed softly. “Sara.” Just the way he said her name curled her toes. He breathed the syllables. Whispered it between exasperated indulgence and purring warning. Made it sound silky and scented and sexy. Everything that she was not. “I do not want to have to restrain you again. It frightens you, and I do not wish to continue to see such fear in your beautiful eyes when you look upon me.” He wanted to see that loving, tender look, that helpless wonder spilling from her bright gaze as it had when she first recognized his face.
“Please, I want to know what’s going on. I’m not going to do anything.” Sara wished she didn’t sound