“Hate me some more,” he whispered, as he rained feather-light kisses along the side of her neck. “Hate me all night long.”
Stefan prowled the deep shadows of the night, surprised by the prick of his conscience. Why was he ashamed of what he’d done? He was what he was and he had never apologized for it. It hadn’t been his choice to become a vampire, but once it was done, he saw no need to spend the rest of his existence cursing what couldn’t be changed. His mother had tried several spells, but even her incredible mystical powers hadn’t been able to restore his humanity. He would be a vampire as long as he lived.
So he would nibble on fair Bryony’s neck as often as he wished. He would hold her and kiss her and, in time, perhaps seduce her. He had never met a woman like her. And he might never let her go. But for now, the hunger clawed at his vitals, demanding to be fed.
He ghosted up behind his chosen prey, spoke quietly to her mind, and sank his fangs into her throat. Unlike some, herarely killed those he preyed on these days, simply took what he needed and wiped the memory from their minds.
As he had erased the memory of his bite from Bryony’s memory.
In the morning, Bryony woke with a smile on her lips, and no recollection of going up to bed the night before. All she remembered was Stefan kissing her, his hands and his voice caressing her until she was lost in a crimson haze of pleasure where nothing mattered but being in his embrace, his hands caressing her, his lips on hers.
What had he done to her?
She bolted upright as sanity returned. Had he hypnotized her somehow? How else to explain her reaction? He had kissed her until she was mindless, helpless. She remembered his tongue caressing her neck…seemed to recall the feel of his teeth at her throat. Had he bitten her?
Rising, she went to stand in front of the mirror. She turned her head from side to side, then lifted her hand to her neck. Was that a bite mark? Frowning, she looked closer. The skin felt hot when she explored it with her fingertips. A spider bite, perhaps?
With a shake of her head, she pulled on her robe and shuffled downstairs to the kitchen. She made do with eggs and ham for breakfast. Sitting at the table, she nibbled at the food on her plate. Living in this place, spending so much time alone, was probably driving her slowly out of her mind.
Bryony frowned as she washed the breakfast dishes. She tried to determine how long she had been Stefan’s unwilling houseguest, but she had lost track of the time. Each day wasmuch like the last. They seemed to drift into one another like a river flowing into the sea.
He hadn’t suggested getting another housekeeper and she refused to ask for one. Her days were spent doing housework, washing the dishes, making her bed, dusting the furniture, sweeping the floors, changing the linen, washing her clothes, hanging them in the kitchen to dry. One mindless chore after another. After a few weeks of household drudgery, she had a new appreciation for the housemaids back home.
In her free time, she indulged her love of reading and painting. She spent far too many hours thinking about Stefan, about the mysterious power that clung to him, the magic of his kisses. Magic. He had told her that his mother was a witch. Was it a magical spell of some kind that made her go so willingly into his arms?
She blew out a sigh as she put the last of the dishes away. He was a mystery to her, an enigma wrapped in a beautifully masculine form with a seductive voice that effortlessly bent her will to his.
She was contemplating what to prepare for dinner when she felt his presence behind her. Anticipation and trepidation warred within her when he slipped his arms around her waist and nuzzled the back of her neck.
“Good evening, fair Bryony.”
His voice washed over her like liquid velvet, reminding her of the night past.
“I wish to go out,” he murmured, his breath warm against her cheek. “Would you like to go with me?”
“Wh…where are you going?”
“To the bookshop. We can go to dinner first, if you like.”
Not cooking sounded wonderful.
“What say you?”
“I’d like that.” She had read all the books he’d bought her, save forFrankenstein.For some reason, she was reluctant to begin it.
He brushed a kiss across her cheek.
She felt it down to her toes.
“I will fetch the buggy while you get ready.” He kissed her again and left the kitchen.
Bryony blew out a breath, amazed, as always, by his effect upon her senses.
It took her only minutes to brush her hair and grab her cloak. Stefan was waiting for her at the front door. As she followed him outside, she wondered again what magic prevented her from leaving the house when she was alone.
He handed her into the buggy, effortlessly hopped up beside her and took up the reins.
It was a lovely night. Millions of stars smiled down on them from a clear, indigo sky. A soft, silvery moon lit the way. The air was fragrant with the scent of night-blooming flowers. In the distance, she heard the lonely howl of a wolf.
