As Twilight Falls(42)
Author: Amanda Ashley

“Nothing. Let them think what they will.”

“All right. Could I ask another favor?”

“You can ask.” Although it wasn’t necessary. He already knew what she wanted.

“I want to see you during the day.”

“Why?”

“You see me when I’m asleep.”

“It’s hardly the same thing,” he said dryly.

“Fair is fair. Besides, you promised there’d be no more secrets between us.”

“This isn’t a secret.”

“Please, Rylan?”

The use of his first name, so sweet on her lips, was his undoing. “Very well. I will leave the door to my lair open tomorrow. But there’s a price.”

“Oh?” She knew what it would be, felt her whole body come alive in anticipation.

“Yes,” he said. “Exactly that.”

She forgot everything when he drew her into his arms, everything but the wonder and the magic of his touch, the intoxication of his kisses, the sting of his fangs that should have been painful but filled her with sensual pleasure.

She wrapped her arms around his neck when he carried her to her bed, her hands clumsy in their haste as she undressed him. He was so beautiful, his body perfectly formed, his belly ridged with muscle, his limbs long and lean. He watched her, his eyes hot, as she removed her own clothing, then covered his body with hers.

They fit together well, she thought, her body somehow molding to his. She ran her hands over him, loving the play of emotions on his face as her hands caressed him.

He gave her free rein until, with a growl of impatience, he tucked her beneath him.

She felt the sweet sting of his fangs at her throat as he possessed her with a fierceness he had never shown before.

“Mine.” His voice whispered in her ear, echoed off the walls. “Mine!”

In the morning, she woke slowly, reluctant to leave the dream she’d been having. Even though she knew it was only her imagination, she could almost feel his hands stroking her skin, hear his voice whispering love words in her ear.

While showering, she could think of nothing but the exquisite feel of his skin against her own, the utter pleasure of their bodies becoming one, the fire in his eyes when he brought her to completion, the way he cried her name when he reached his own.

It wasn’t until later that morning that she remembered he had agreed to let her see him while he slept. How could she have forgotten that? But then, with her mind and body still caught up in memories of the night before, maybe it was understandable.

Filled with excitement, she ran up the stairs to the turret room. The door leading down to the tunnel stood open. She smiled, grateful that she wouldn’t be trapped down there until he woke. Turning on her flashlight, she hurried down the steps toward Saintcrow’s lair at the end of the corridor.

She paused for a moment, suddenly unsure now that the moment was at hand. What if he looked like he was dead? He had been a vampire for more than nine hundred years. What if there was nothing but a skeleton in the coffin? Did she really want to see that?

Holding fast to her courage, she put her hand on the door. It was now or never.

A slight push, and the door opened into a large room. The walls were French blue, the carpet a shade darker. An antique mahogany wardrobe stood against the wall to the left. An old-fashioned four-poster bed with velvet hangings stood against the wall across from the door. There was nothing else in the room.

Was he in the bed? Weren’t vampires supposed to sleep in coffins?

Taking a deep breath, she approached the bed and drew the velvet aside.

Saintcrow slept on his back, one arm at his side, the other across his waist. A sheet covered him from the waist down, his chest was bare. His skin looked paler than usual. As far as she could tell, he wasn’t breathing. In repose, his face was still beautiful.

Did she dare touch him? Unable to resist, she laid her hand ever so lightly on his chest. His skin was cool, as were his lips when she traced them with her fingertips.

Was he naked beneath the sheet?

A little voice in the back of her mind urged her to peek, but she shook it off. It seemed a huge violation of his privacy.

She stayed a moment more, her curiosity urging her to peek into the wardrobe. After a brief battle with her conscience, she tiptoed out of the room. The door closed behind her.

Heart pounding, she ran up the stairs to the turret room, then made her way to the living room.

Sitting on the sofa, she tried to absorb what had just happened. It occurred to her that he must trust her a great deal to let her see him when he was helpless. What if she had brought the others with her? They could have killed him while he slept. She had no doubt that Claude Cooper would take Saintcrow’s head without a second thought.

Suddenly restless, she went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. It was past time for lunch. And there was nothing to eat.

She grabbed the keys to the Corvette, making a mental grocery list as she unlocked the front door. She frowned when it wouldn’t open. Was the lock jammed? She turned it this way and that. Nothing happened.

The back door wouldn’t open, either. Neither would any of the windows.

So much for trust, she thought darkly. Did he really think she would betray him?

That she would tell the others where he slept? That she would invite them inside so they could destroy him?

He didn’t trust her.

The idea hurt more than she would have thought possible.

She was waiting for him in the living room when the sun went down. One look at her face, at the way her arms were crossed over her chest, and he knew she was upset. He didn’t have to read her mind to know why.

“It isn’t a matter of trust, exactly,” he said.

“Then what is it, exactly?”

“I haven’t existed for over nine hundred years by being careless. None of the other humans in this town know where my lair is located. You wanted to see me at rest, and I let you. But to leave the door to my lair open during the day . . . ?” He shook his head. “I’m not that trusting.”

“You trusted me. Why? I could have stabbed you while you slept, just like anyone else.”

“I was willing to take my chances with you, but not with any of the others.”

Somewhat mollified, she asked, “Can I go with you when you take Rosemary away?”

“If you like.”

“Will you take her home?”

“If that’s where she wants to go, although I’m sure she’ll find it and everything else greatly changed after so many years.”