feed was overwhelming, when even his considerable willpower wasn't enough to keep him from taking a life.
It was not an easy burden to bear, knowing he must exist on the life's blood of others or perish, knowing he was hated and feared by all mankind.
Some accepted the Dark Gift and reveled in it, as he had. Others went mad.
He slumped down in the chair, shrouded in darkness and in his own bleak thoughts. For centuries he had prowled the earth, inflicting havoc on humanity, exulting in his immortality, content to wander aimlessly, caring for no one, letting no one care for him, until the loneliness became more than he could bear. He had accepted what he was by then, had learned to control the lust for blood, and so he had sought a mate, searched the world from end to end looking for that one woman who would see past the monster he had become to the man he had once been.
He'd had no trouble finding women. He needed no mirror to remind him that he was a virile male in his prime. His hair was long and straight, as black as his soul; his eyes were as gray as the morning mist that rose from the river. His face was pleasant enough, his lips full and sensuous; his nose, while slightly crooked, was not offensive.
He'd had women. Countless women. Beautiful women. Highborn or low, they had come to him gladly, showering him with their affection, until they discovered what he was. Some turned away in disgust, some in horror. One had fallen to her death...
He swore a vile oath at the memory. He had loved Rosalia with all the passion of youth, and she had died because of him. There had been times since then when he had grown heartily sick of the monster he'd become, times when death had beckoned sweetly.
Thirteen years ago had been such a time. He had been on the brink of destroying himself, of walking out into the sunlight to feel the sun on his face before it destroyed him. That had been the night he had seen Sara for the first time, a small, golden-haired girl huddled in the corner of an empty room.
She had been crying softly, as if she were afraid of disturbing the quiet of the night, and the sound, so filled with sorrow, had drawn him out of his own misery. The sound of her tears had led him to an elegant manor house.
She had stopped crying the instant he picked her up, staring at him through bright blue eyes filled with tears. And then she had smiled at him, a sweet, innocent smile filled with trust, and he had vowed to protect her for as long as she lived.
He had searched the rooms, looking for the child's mother, but there was no sign that anyone lived in the house. The furniture was covered; the closets were empty.
He had cursed softly, wondering who would abandon such a precious child.
He had learned later that Sara was the child of Adalaina Duncan, and that the woman had fled her home in the middle of the night. The townspeople had assumed she had taken the child with her.
Late that night, he had taken Sara to the orphanage run by the Sisters of Eternal Mercy.
When he handed her to the nuns, she had stared up at him, her little face looking sad, as if she realized she would never see him again.
He had watched over her ever since...
A long, slow sigh escaped his lips as he stared into the blackened hearth. Sara. What would he do if she tried to take her life while he slept? What would his life be like without her?
Have you come to take me to heaven? The sound of her voice echoed in his mind, as did his own cryptic reply: That I could never do. Truer words had never been spoken, he thought, for he was far beyond the reach of heaven.
And is your name Gabriel? she had asked, to which he had replied, If you wish.
A faint smile curved the corner of his mouth. He had lived many lives and worn many names, but none pleased him more than the one she had given him.
For this lifetime, her lifetime, he would be Gabriel.
PART One Chapter Three
With a sigh, Sara closed the book she had been reading. Another happily-ever-after ending, she thought despondently. If only real life, her life, would end like that. If only there were