“Surely you must know what I am,” he said dryly. “You painted me.”
Her eyes widened. “How do you know that?”
“I watched you.”
So, she hadn’t imagined all those nights when she had felt his presence. She lifted her hand to her neck. “You bit me! And drank my blood.”
He didn’t deny it, merely continued to watch her, his eyes dark and unfathomable as she backed away from him and huddled in the chair by the window, her hands tightly clasped in her lap.
.“It’s true, isn’t it?” she asked tremulously. “What you are?”
“The word you’re looking for is vampire.”
She shook her head. She had all the proof anyone could need and yet she still couldn’t believe it was true. How could she have lived with him so long and not realized what he was? How could she have missed him these past weeks, wanted his touch, his kisses, when he wasn’t human?
“I am the same man I was before,” he said quietly.
She lifted one brow. “You aren’t really a man at all, are you?”
Anger flared behind his eyes. “You think not?” Muttering an oath, he closed the distance between them and pulled herout of the chair and into his embrace. His fingers tangled in her hair, holding her immobile while his mouth descended on hers in a savage kiss that frightened her even as it awakened her desire as never before. For a moment, she tried to fight him, but his arms were too strong, her own wanting too great. When she melted against him, his kisses turned softer, sweeter. His free hand stroked up and down her back, and then he drew her body even closer, letting her feel his arousal.
She was trembling when he lifted his head. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, could only stare at him, the wordmonsterwhispering in the back of her mind.
Knowing his eyes had gone red as his hunger rose with his desire, Stefan swore under his breath. And let her go. “I want you,” he said, his voice little more than a growl. “And I intend to have you.” He took a deep breath and let it out in a long, heavy sigh. “But I am notmonsterenough to take you by force.” His gaze moved over her, his eyes smoky with desire, and then he vanished from her sight.
Feeling numb, Bryony stood there for a long time. She should have married Lord Timothy Bloodworth, she thought dully. If she had, she wouldn’t be in this place, held captive by a…a vampire who refused to let her go. A vampire whose kisses made her forget what he was and caused her whole body to burn with wanting him.
What was she going to do about Stefan?
He prowled the drifting shadows of the night, a part of the darkness that surrounded him. Anger roiled within him, anger at the woman who had made him love her, anger at himself for not taking what he wanted, what he so desperately needed. She was right, damn her! He wasn’t a man at all. Hewas a vampire, a predator who took whatever he wanted and the rest of the world be damned.
Yet here he was, stalking the deserted streets of a distant town, his whole body on fire with wanting her blood, her body, her very soul.
Monster!
That was how she saw him now, how she would always see him.
Monster.
He laughed a cold, bitter laugh. How could he condemn her for seeing him that way when that was how he saw himself?
Lifting his head, he howled his rage and frustration to the night wind and pitied any mortal who dared cross his path before dawn.
Bryony couldn’t sleep. She sat in her sewing room staring at her paintings of Stefan, the one so beautiful, the other so frightening. How could they both depict him so well? Which was the real Stefan? The man, or the monster? How could he be both? How could she love the one and be terrified of the other?
She sat there all night long, sometimes crying softly, sometimes hating him for making her fall in love with him. At least she thought it was love, but how was she to know for sure? She’d never been in love before.
Gradually, weariness overtook her and she fell asleep in the chair while staring at two disparate images of the man she loved in spite of herself.
Dawn was creeping over the horizon when Stefan returned to the house. His lair was located in a cellar under the foundation, accessible only by a hidden door. As he neared the house, he sensed Bryony had fallen asleep where he had left her.
Entering the sewing room, he was surprised to see she had uncovered his portraits. He stared at them for a long moment, then shook his head. Lifting her into his arms, he carried her up the stairs, undressed her down to her chemise, and put her to bed. He stood there for several minutes, his knuckles lightly caressing her cheek. She loved the man, he thought, but not the monster. Until she could love them both, he had little hope that she would stay with him of her own free will.
His gaze moved over her. She looked like a princess in a fairy tale, lying there with her golden hair spread across the pillow and the moonlight caressing her. Leaning down, he brushed a kiss across her lips There was always another way to make her love him—if he chose to take it.
Chapter Seventeen
Leyton Barrett stood at the front window, staring out into the darkness, his thoughts, as always, turned toward Bryony. She was his youngest, and his favorite, and everyone knew it.
