gazed out the window. It was still raining, a hard steady rain. The sky was a cold, leaden gray. He stroked Adrianna's hair while his mind probed the darkness, but he had no sense of another vampire in the area. And yet that, in itself, proved nothing. There were vampires older than he who could shield their presence from his mind. He tried to tell himself the woman had been the victim of some drug-crazed maniac, but he knew, deep inside, that he was no longer the only vampire in the city.
Adrianna moved restlessly in his embrace, the warmth of her body pressing against his, her nearness, her heat, chasing every other thought from his mind.
With a low groan, he slanted his mouth over hers and kissed her, and at that moment, there was nothing else in all the world but the woman in his arms, her lips parted in gentle surrender, her hands moving over his chest and back, kneading the muscles in his arms. Her hands were warm against his skin, and he luxuriated in her touch, basking in the sensations that rippled through him. So long, he thought, it had been so long since he had allowed the touch of a human hand.
He stretched out on the sofa and drew her close, molding her body to his, marveling anew at how well they fit together. He rained kisses on her brow, her cheeks, the tip of her nose, before he claimed her lips again. Sweet, he mused, so sweet. She moaned softly as she pressed herself against his arousal. Desire shot through him, hotter than any flame, and he knew he had to let her go, now, before it was too late.
And even as the thought crossed his mind, he felt his body's response, felt the sharp prick of his fangs against his tongue as his urge to make love to her warred with the need to sink his teeth into her throat and drain her of life.
The scent of her desire mingled with the scent of her blood. With a low groan, he began to kiss her neck, his tongue lingering over the pulse that throbbed there. He had fed before he came to her, and yet the need to drink from her, to taste her, spiraled through him.
Caught up in the wonder of his touch, she made a soft sound in the back of her throat as she turned her head, exposing her throat to his hungry gaze as she writhed against him.
She gasped with mingled pleasure and pain as she felt his teeth scrape against the tender flesh of her neck.
Navarre froze, the awareness of what he'd almost done chilling him to the depths of his soul. Never, in all the years since Shaylyn had forced the Dark Gift upon him, had he stooped to taking the blood of one so young, so innocent.
"Navarre?" She called his name, her voice drugged with passion.
Abruptly, he sat up and buried his face in his hands. He could feel the hunger raging through him, knew his eyes betrayed the same unholy lust he had often seen in Shaylyn's. He ran his tongue over his fangs, sickened to think of what he had almost done. He'd been a fool to come here, a fool to think he could be near her and not want her. All these years, he had congratulated himself on his ability to control the hunger. Only now did he realize that lie had been kidding himself, that he hadn't controlled it at all. It hadn't been the hunger that was controlled, but himself. He had refused to put himself in any situation that might get out of hand. He had kept his distance from mortals, never letting himself care too deeply, never letting himself get close for fear he wouldn't be able to take a woman's love without taking her very life as well.
"Navarre?"
He felt her stir beside him, felt her hand stroke his back. "Is something wrong?"
"Annie, go to your room and lock the door."
"What?"
"Please, just do it."
"I don't understand. What's wrong?"
"Do it!"
His voice echoed of the walls like the crack of doom. Frightened, she jumped off the sofa and ran down the hall. He heard the sound of her door slam shut, the harsh rasp of the lock falling into place.
In the next instant, he was out the front door, running down the rain-slick sidewalk.
Foolish creature;he thought as he darted across the street.Try as you might, you can't outrun what you are