straining to be closer as his tongue tangled with hers. When he lifted his head, she whimpered softly.
“Callie.”
It took a moment for his voice, husky with longing, to penetrate the fog of desire that engulfed her.
Extricating himself from her grasp, he muttered, “Callie, we need to stop.”
She looked up at him, a rush of embarrassment flooding her cheeks. Never in all her life had she behaved so wantonly with a man, let alone one who was pretty much a stranger. And certainly strange, she thought with a faint grin.
His knuckles brushed her cheek. “You are the most desirable woman I’ve ever known.”
Did he honestly expect her to believe that? The man had lived for six centuries. He must have known literally hundreds of women. Made love to hundreds of women more beautiful and certainly more experienced than she.
Taking her hand in his, he said, “I’m a man, not a monk, sweet Callie. But I’ve never met anyone like you. Never wanted a woman as desperately as I want you. But passion and love are not the same thing, and I want your heart and soul before I take you to my bed.”
Rising, he bowed over her hand and kissed it. “I have to go out for a while. Keep your doors locked.”
“Where are you going?”
He hesitated a moment before saying, “I need to feed.”
She frowned. “But . . .”
“I would rather drink from you, my sweet girl.” He trailed his fingertips along the side of her neck. “But I don’t want you to think of yourself as prey, because you mean so much more to me than that. Do you understand?”
She nodded, though she couldn’t help feeling a twinge of jealousy at the thought of him drinking from someone else. And how sick was that?
He was still holding her hand. Heat suffused her when he turned it over and ran his tongue over her palm. “I won’t be gone long,” he murmured, and vanished from her sight.
He wanted her love, Callie mused as she kicked off her shoes, then padded into her bedroom. His declaration had come as a complete surprise. Just thinking about it made her smile. Slipping into her pajamas, she had to admit that falling in love with Quill wouldn’t be hard at all.
Returning to the living room, Callie picked up her soda and sipped it slowly while she recalled their conversation. He was six hundred years old. He hadn’t said as much, but it didn’t sound like he had ever married. He’d said he had never fathered a child. She found that odd, somehow. Surely, in six hundred years he would have impregnated at least one of the many women he’d seduced, whether on purpose or by accident.
She wondered if his lair was nearby. And what it looked like. Was it dark and dreary like in the movie Dracula? Did it have dusty, winding staircases, and lacy cobwebs in every corner? A Renfield lurking in the shadows? A coffin filled with earth in the basement?
Had he meant it when he’d said he had never wanted another woman the way he wanted her? She still found that hard to believe. She wasn’t a raving beauty, didn’t possess any rare or unusual talents. She was just Callie Hathaway, she thought dryly. Vampire magnet.
The thought made her laugh so hard she almost choked on her soda.
* * *
Quill fed quickly. It was remarkably satisfying, but all the while, he wished it was Callie in his arms, Callie’s sweet blood warming him. He had known her only a few days and yet, for reasons he did not understand, she had become the most important thing in his life. Her lack of fear baffled him. He knew she was afraid of what he was, but it wasn’t the instinctive terror most people experienced. And he wondered again what there was about her blood that set her apart and why he couldn’t recall where he had tasted something similar before.
He was on his way back to her house when he sensed the presence of one of the Knights of the Dark Wood. From what little he had learned about their secret society through the years, he knew there were always thirteen of them. With two dead, he had expected the rest to return home and initiate two more.
Apparently, he had been mistaken.
Chapter 6
The Knight known as Trey 95 paused in the shadowy darkness, one hand reaching for the silver-bladed knife at his side when the ivory medallion at his throat began to