kiss, and she forgot about work, forgot about everything but the man who held her so tightly, kissed her so completely, made her heart soar with happiness. She pressed herself against him, wanting to be closer, closer.
Grigori groaned low in his throat as he absorbed her heat into himself. The sound of her heartbeat roared in his ears; the very essence of her life called to him as the scent of her blood filled his nostrils. Hunger and desire warred within him. He felt his fangs lengthen as the hunger roared to life within him. Just a taste, he thought, what could it hurt? One taste of her sweetness. So easy, he mused, so easy to take her, to look deep into her eyes arid let the power of his mind overshadow hers. She need never know....
The tension radiating from Grigori penetrated the haze of passion that engulfed her. Feeling as though she were moving through thick molasses, she drew back, her gaze searching his face. "What's wrong?"
With great effort, he subdued his hunger, felt his fangs retract. "I think I'd better say good night."
"But it's early yet."
"You are far too tempting, Marisa." He stood up, and placed her carefully on her feet. "I shall see you tomorrow night."
"All right." She swayed against him, lifting her face for his kiss. "Thanks for picking me up."
"My pleasure." Tenderly, as though she were made of the most fragile spun glass, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. "Sweet dreams, cara."
"You too," she said, and then frowned. "Do you dream?"
He traced her lips with his fingers. "I didn't," he replied softly, "until I met you. Buono notte, cara mia."
"Good night."
With a sigh, she locked the door behind him. Feeling giddy as a schoolgirl, she sat down on the sofa and gazed dreamily into the fire, a pillow clutched to her breast.
She was in love with Grigori Chiavari. The thought was both thrilling and frightening.
Marisa Chiavari... Mrs. Grigori Chiavari... Mrs. Marisa Chiavari...
Giggling, she kissed the pillow. She'd never felt like this in her whole life. It was wonderful and scary, exhilarating and frightening, all at the same time. And, most of all, it was impossible. How could she be in love with a vampire?
Chapter Twenty-six
Lost in thought, Grigori walked the dark streets. Before Alexi's escape from Silvano, before Marisa, his life had followed a set path. He had traveled the world, following winter, when darkness was long upon the earth. He was not a eunuch, not a monk. There had been women in his life. He had felt a warm affection for them all, but none had claimed his heart or spoken to his soul. He had pursued knowledge, embraced the arts, enjoyed theater and opera. His physical wants were few and easily satisfied.
But when Silvano had taken Alexi on tour, his peaceful days had been shattered. And then he had met Marisa... ah, Marisa, with her sun-kissed beauty and clear green eyes. Marisa, whose blood sang a siren song to his hunger, whose beauty tugged at his heart and soul even as her shapely form whispered to the desire of the flesh. But it was more than outer beauty or lust that drew him to her side again and again. It was the purity of her soul, her innate sweetness, the compassion that allowed her to look past what he had become and see the man he had once been.
Marisa . . Could he hold her, make love to her as he longed to do, and not destroy her? Since being made Vampyre, he had made love to many women, but never to a woman he loved.
A wave of guilt rose up within him. How could he think of loving Marisa when he had stood at Antoinette's graveside only weeks ago? And yet, she had been dead to him for centuries.
Awareness flowed through him and he whirled around, his eyes probing the shadows. "Come out, Ramsey. I know you are there."
A dark form materialized from behind a tree.
Edward Ramsey hunched his shoulders. Standing in the glow of a streetlight, he felt exposed, vulnerable. "Chiavari."
"Did you want to see me?" Grigori asked. And then he saw the bag hanging from Ramsey's shoulder. "Let me guess. Would you be carrying a hammer and a stake in that sack?"
Edward cleared his throat. Sweat beaded on his brow and pooled under his arms, but he kept his expression blank.
Grigori took a step forward. "Afraid, vampyre hunter?"
Ramsey lifted his chin a notch and shook his