3
Riley
She didn’t remember muchof the ride back to the hotel. Just the countryside streaming by in a sea of green. Trudging down the hall to her room, she fumbled with her key, and not more than five minutes later, lay curled on her side in bed, wondering if this was the beginning of the end.
“Please,” she whispered. “Give me this vacation. Just…eight more days.”
She should have had months. Not years. But at least six months. She didn’t understand why she was suddenly so tired.
Two hours later, she woke to a pounding at her door. “Room service, miss.” The deep voice with the Irish accent sounded vaguely familiar. The boy from this morning? No. Not him. Someone else… But when had she called down for a meal?
“I didn’t order anything—” Dark eyes held hers. Wait…shehadordered something. A steak. And fries. And red wine. Zeroing in on the food, she found her mouth watering and quickly stepped aside. “Never mind. Come in,” she mumbled.
“Leave the door open,” the man said sharply when she tried to follow him. “Never let a strange man trap you in your hotel room, Miss Scott.”
“Oh. Of course.” Why hadn’t she remembered that? All she wanted was that steak.
“Are you…all right?” he asked as he set the tray on the small table in the corner. “You look pale.”
“F-fine. Um. What do I owe you?” Her gaze was still glued to the tray, though she was vaguely aware of the man’s closeness. The way he smelled like expensive tobacco and leather. It wasalmostenough to stop her from salivating. Or…at least have her salivating over something else. But her stomach rumbled, loudly, and she pressed a hand to her belly. “That’s…embarrassing.”
“You already paid, Miss Scott. No additional charge.” The man retreated through the door, paused, and turned back to her. She tore her gaze away from the tray of food long enough to meet his gaze. Up close, his eyes were navy, so little difference between the pupil and iris they were almost black, and…familiar.
“Do I…know you?” Riley took a single step forward, scanning the man’s face. An angular jaw, black hair, just long enough it brushed the collar of his dress shirt, tight black jeans that hugged powerful thighs. “I feel like…we’ve met…”
His eyes widened, midnight flooding what was left of the blue. “No, Miss Scott. We do not know one another. You have seen me around the hotel, perhaps. That is all. Now you will eat, and then rest. Promise me.”
“Yes.” She nodded, her desire for that steak now overwhelming. “Thank you…?”
“Declan,” he said, then whispered something in Gaelic under his breath. “Good night, Miss. Scott.”
“Doctor.” As he strode down the hall, she called after him. “Doctor Scott.” Her eyes started to water, and she rubbed them gently. When she opened them again, he was gone.
With the door locked, she devoured every bite, the flavors so much brighter, more intense, more…delicious than anything she’d eaten at home in months.
And as she climbed into bed only moments after finishing the meal and leaving the tray in the hall, sleep rushed towards her, but something in the back of her mind felt…wrong. Scrambled. And the man who’d brought her the food…what was his name? No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t remember.
Until her body relaxed, and on a sigh, she whispered, “Declan.”
* * *
Declan
“What the fuck were you thinking?” he asked himself as he stood in the hotel stairwell. He’d opened the castle to the tour company more than thirty years ago, and in all that time, he’d never felt the need to check on one of his “meals” after the fact. Why would he? More than two centuries ago, he’d learned how to feed without killing—how often he needed to slake his thirst, how much to take before a human’s heart simply gave out.
He was careful. Exceedingly so. His former clan mates, not so much. A small gang of them roamed the streets under theleadershipof the last vampire his sire had made. Patrick’s little group killed at least fifty a year. They were the reason the Hunters had started patrolling Dublin again. Fucking dolts.
And now, he was risking his life to not only check on a human, but make sure she ate. Why?
Because she tasted like sunshine.
He missed little of his human life. Outside the preciousness of it. Unless one of the Hunters got a hold of him, Declan would never die. Each day blended into the last and the next. He watched the changing seasons, the passing years with interest, but no particularneed.Not anymore.
But sunlight…he missed that. The heat of it on his skin. The way it smelled. Or made things smell. And Riley Scott tasted like sunshine.
No matter. He could never see her again. He’d searched a few of her memories when he’d glamoured her just now, and she was only staying in Dublin another week.
The pull he felt—the connection between them—would fade by then. And he’d forget her. In two days, he’d feed on another, and Riley Scott would become a distant memory.
