when the nightmares began - dark dreams filled with a sense of impending doom, horrid dreams filled with death and hideous fangs stained with blood. Other nights, she awoke feeling cherished and desired, her heart beating fast as she recalled a phantom hand gently stroking her cheek, the touch strangely erotic. And always, after such dreams, she woke up feeling tired and hungry.
She voiced her concern to Bevins, wondering if she needed to see a doctor, but he assured her that she was perfectly fine, that it was only the change in diet and atmosphere causing her distress, and that she would soon adapt. There was pity in his eyes when he said this, and he refused to meet her gaze.
"Is something wrong?" she had asked. "Something you're not telling me?"
"I'm being as honest with you as I can, miss."
"Will I ever see Lord Rayven again?"
"I don't know, miss. I hope not," he had replied, and left the room.
Chapter Three
I long for what I've lost
For that which can never be.
I cloak the horror of what I am
and pray you never see.
He sat in his favorite chair before the fire, gazing, unseeing, into the flames. She permeated his house, his thoughts, his dreams. Never before had a woman affected him like this, taking hold of his every waking moment, tormenting him with her nearness. He spent his nights hovering near her while she slept, watching her, listening to her breathe, to the beat of her heart, the sound of the blood flowing through her veins. She smelled always of flowers. Even when the hunger lay dormant within him, he was drawn beyond his power to resist being with her, to touch the smoothness of her cheek, to run his fingers over her lips and imagine his mouth there.
She was so beautiful, this child-woman who wandered through his house by day and sustained him through the night. He knew her thoughts, heard the tears she sometimes shed in the night. It pleased him to satisfy her every want, to dress her in fine clothes, to provide the best food and wine that money could buy. He took pride in her ability to learn, and ordered books and music he thought would please her.
It was the least he could do, he thought, for she gave him life, and no matter how he tried, he could never repay her for that.
He knew the moment she fell asleep. He heard the change in her breathing, felt a change in the house itself, as if the life went out of it while she slumbered.
He would not go to her tonight. He would take to the streets and ease his craving there. Yet even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew it for the lie it was. Already, he was rising, her innocence calling him, beckoning him, the single light in the darkness of his existence.
Soundlessly, he climbed the stairs and opened the door to her room. She locked her door each night, but no lock made could keep him out.
And then he was standing beside her bed, gazing down at her. It was a warm night, and she had thrown off the covers. Her nightgown had ridden up, exposing a long length of softly rounded thigh.
His body stirred to life, hunger and desire riding him with whip and spurs as he sat down on the bed beside her.
He was bending over her when he realized that she was awake and staring at him.
Certain she was dreaming, Rhianna closed her eyes and opened them again. The tall dark figure was still there, hovering over her, like smoke.
"Lord Rayven?" She couldn't see his face in the darkness, yet she knew somehow that it was he.
"Go to sleep, Rhianna," he murmured. "You're very tired. Your eyelids are heavy, so heavy you can no longer keep them open."
"No..."
"Sleep, sweet Rhianna. Sleep is what you need."
His voice, deep and melodic, winding around her like a soft cocoon.
Her eyelids fluttered down, and she was following a narrow path through the darkness. She tried to turn back, but her feet refused to obey. Her heart was racing; she could hear the blood pounding in her ears as she drew ever closer, wondering who awaited her in the shadows tonight, the man who took her in his arms and held her as if she were a precious gift, or the one who preyed upon her flesh. Would she awake feeling loved and protected, or sobbing with fright? Or would this be the night