Deadly Inheritance

Deadly Inheritance Jayelle Drewry (c) 2008 ISBN 978-1-59578-501-5

Deadly Inheritance Jayelle Drewry Published 2008 ISBN 978-1-59578-501-5 Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © 2008, Jayelle Drewry. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author. Manufactured in the United States of America Liquid Silver Books http://LSbooks.com Email: [email protected] Editor Chrissie Henderson Cover Artist April Martinez This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Chapter One Traveling was not everyone’s cup of tea. Some people spent their entire lives never traveling more than a hundred miles from home, while others traveled as far as their bank accounts and personal lives let them. Gabrielle Murray fell into the former category, at best taking the occasional weekend trip. Yet, here she was driving down a lone deserted road, in the middle of a lonely, deserted countryside. A foreign countryside she had hoped never to see again. Damn she hated making this trip. It ranked right up there with a trip to the gynecologist or to the dentist to have a tooth pulled. Visits to either doctor resulted in a woman being poked, prodded, and gaped open for inspection. But while a trip to the doctor’s office was short and relatively pain free, this trip was far more painful than anything ever done in an office, and took far longer too. It wasn’t the country—this part of Eastern Europe was beautiful. The landscape was breathtaking. The mountains, the forest—all of it seemingly untouched, unspoiled by the twenty-first century. Majestic, snow-capped mountains loomed over quaint villages. The vibrant green hills, lush fields, and thick forest were picture-perfect. She expected a hobbit to jump out any moment. The purity of the countryside appealed to her. It was something she rarely saw in the city. Concrete and pavement, with the occasional ornamental tree, was the backdrop of her everyday life. To be surrounded by all of this was overwhelming, awe-inspiring. Making a snap decision, she pulled over onto the shoulder of the road. She might as well have one peaceful moment. Once she got to the estate, fun time would be over. Getting out of the car, she walked over to where the dense forest opened up to reveal the mountains beyond. It was too beautiful for words. The sun was setting and the sky was a montage of jewel-toned colors. She stood there, soaking up the peacefulness, the beauty around her. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. The air was sweet and fresh. People spent hundreds of dollars on air fresheners trying to capture the elusive scent of clean air. With her eyes closed, she became aware of the noise around her. There was a slight hum of insects, another rarity. Slowly the sound built, until in its own way it was as loud as the traffic in a city. Or maybe she was so accustomed to traffic she no longer heard it while the unfamiliarity of the insect chorus caused the sound to swell unnaturally loud. There was a snapping sound off to her left, and silence reigned. Some long forgotten instinct had her freezing. Opening her eyes, she glanced around. It was growing dark quickly. Already the trees were cast in shadows. As the sun set, the air was growing cooler, damper. Hugging herself, she shivered, the shiver not entirely due to the temperature. She felt uneasy. The road was dark, the forest around her even darker. The woods were becoming more and more menacing. Alone, anything could happen. Her heartbeat picked up in the elemental fear all humans felt when alone in the dark. Uneasiness prickled along her spine. She suddenly remembered every werewolf and vampyre movie she had ever seen. In her mind’s eye, she saw monsters lurking in the shadows watching her. Snap out of it, Gabby! What do you think is going to happen? She was scaring the crap out of herself. There is no such thing as vampyres and werewolves. Even as she

comforted herself with that thought, Gabrielle hurriedly returned to the car. She couldn’t put it off any longer, she needed to get to the mansion. But she wouldn’t be staying long. Just long enough to handle the legal issues surrounding her inheritance, and to figure out what to do with the estate. More than likely she would put it on the market. What am I going to do with a castle? She had no family and no ties of friendship to keep her here. She couldn’t think of anything lonelier than to roam about the place completely alone. Starting the car, Gabrielle pulled back onto the road. It wasn’t much farther to the house. Hopefully she’d make it before it was completely dark. Less than five minutes later, she rounded a curve and the house came into view. The first sight of the house gave Gabrielle the creeps and chills raced across her skin, raising the hair on her arms and the back of her neck. The sun was offering its last dying rays and had turned the sky red. The windows reflected the fading light and glowed an uncanny crimson. The shadows around the house had elongated with the approach of the night. The front doors were lost in shadow, completely obliterating them from sight. In their place was a gaping black hole. Tightening her hands on the wheel, she slowly pulled up to the front and cut off the engine. She sat there a minute and stared, a sick feeling of dread and fear in the pit of her stomach. This place had never been a home, never been a place of comfort. Instead it had been hell, for both Gabrielle and her mother, Mary. Roderick had never beaten them. Physical abuse had not been his style. No, he had favored mental and emotional battery. Remarks that cut to the bone, or false warmth and kindness to lure his victim into lowering her guard, followed by a vicious verbal attack. Gabrielle forced the painful memories back and got out of the car, leaving the keys and her luggage behind. Her stepfather had employed an army of servants. His lawyer had assured her that though most had been let go, a skeleton crew was still employed and would remain so until she came to close the place. They would see to the car and her bags. With no light to guide her way, the granite steps leading up to the huge wooden doors were dark and difficult to see. Gabrielle watched her step to keep from tripping. A fall from the stone steps could cause a serious injury, and if a person fell wrong, death. With her luck, if she fell, it’d be her neck that broke. Reaching the landing, she stepped around the huge brown stain that covered a large portion of the granite floor. It was a habit, a habit begun the day she and her mother arrived. Roderick had warned them to step around it. Rolling their eyes, they had indulged him. But it hadn’t taken long to notice two things. First, no one stepped on that spot. Not the servants, not Roderick’s business partners and lawyers. No one. Secondly, the stain couldn’t be removed. Mary had tried again and again to clean the stain. No amount of cleaner, bleach or scrubbing would dim that spot of brown. She didn’t know what the stain was, but it wasn’t coming up. Standing at the entrance, Gabrielle frowned in puzzlement. The doors were faded and cracked. With the tip of her nail, she flicked the peeling paint. She scanned the entrance and noticed a small fissure at the base of the wall beside the door. It worked its way up the side past where she could see. What in the world was going on? The house was in sad condition. Wow. Ole Roddy must be rolling in his grave. This place had been his pride and joy. He’d been almost fanatical about it at times. She couldn’t imagine how

or why he would have let it go this way. Tarnished brass knockers were set in the middle of each door. Gargoyles, mouths gaping open in a horrible grimace, glared at her. The door knockers were fiendish, spooky things that did not welcome visitors. Rather, they dared the unsuspecting to reach into their mouths for the brass ring; their silent message: knock if you dare. The door opened suddenly, unexpectedly, and Gabrielle started with fright and took a step back. “Oh, I wasn’t expecting that.” She gasped breathlessly, her heart racing. The butler stood before her, old, gray-haired, his posture ramrod straight. His eyes were cold and lifeless, the expression in them one of disdain. She had no idea what his name was. She’d never heard anyone address him by name. So she’d given him a name: Lurch. She just never said it out loud. They stood there facing one another. She half expected him to say, “You rang?” Or give a deep suffering grumble. Not surprisingly, he did neither. Instead he stepped aside, gesturing for her to enter, and Gabrielle stepped across the threshold. The foyer was huge, the marble floor covered by a Persian rug. A few pieces of furniture were arranged artfully about the area and a tapestry hung from one wall. There was nothing warm or welcoming about the entranceway. It was as cold and impersonal as its owner had been. Opposite the double entrance doors, there was a huge marble staircase that led up to the second and third floors. The door swung shut behind her, and Gabrielle jumped at the sudden noise. Damn. She was as jumpy as a cat. The butler led her across the great foyer, their steps muffled by the carpet. Stopping at the doors to the library, he opened them for her. Silently he motioned for Gabrielle to enter and then snapped the doors shut behind her. Gabrielle stood there a moment, letting her eyes adjust to the dim light. A man stood front of the fireplace, a fireplace large enough to fit several people. A fire roared there, and lit up the area around it while casting the rest of the room into shadow. With his back to the fire she couldn’t see his face, couldn’t read his expression. “You missed dinner. I hope you ate earlier. The servants are dismissed for the night.” The voice was devoid of emotion. Neither welcome nor hostility was reflected. No greetings. No condolences for her loss. Roderick Harker’s lawyer was as cold blooded and unfeeling as he had been. “I ate in Brasov. I knew I wouldn’t make it in time.” It was a lie. She hadn’t eaten since leaving the States many hours ago. It didn’t matter. The thought of staying here had her stomach in knots and she wasn’t particularly hungry anyway. “Well, come on in. We might as well get this over with tonight.” Impatiently motioning her further into the room, he sat on one of the wingback chairs placed in front of the fireplace. She reluctantly crossed the room to sit down across from the cold fish. Somehow, in this part of Europe, rife with vampyre legends, she couldn’t quite call him a bloodsucking lawyer. Barely waiting until she was seated, he began reading the documents. Her stepfather had not named a beneficiary. Since he had been the last of his line and Mary had no family other than her daughter, Gabrielle stood to inherit everything. The lawyer had said this with a sour look upon his face, his lips turned down in disapproval. No doubt he thought her unworthy of the place. Well, too bad. At that moment she half decided to keep it. She and her mother had surely suffered enough to earn it. She signed all the

necessary documents and that was that. The lawyer packed up his briefcase and excused himself. In a lofty tone he informed her that since she had failed to show before dark, of course he would be staying the night. He would leave in the morning. **** Hunger—it gnawed at her insides, consuming her every thought. She needed sustenance. She needed to feed or go insane from the torment. The hunger never ended. Barely fed enough to live, but never enough to satisfy. Better to be dead than to live like this. Trapped! She was trapped in a room, a room so small she could barely move without touching the walls. When she did … the pain! Oh, the pain was excruciating, coursing through her body, setting her skin on fire. She couldn’t take it anymore. She felt as though her very bones would burst into flame. She screamed out in agony. Heart racing, chest heaving, Gabrielle sat up. Sweat poured from her, making her nightgown stick to her skin. She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes, trying to rid herself of the nightmare, a horrible, realistic nightmare. Breathe, Gabby, breathe. It was just a dream, just a bad dream. Dropping her hands, she looked around the room. It was morning, and judging by the brightness of the room, mid-morning. A rumble from her stomach reminded her she hadn’t eaten since leaving New York. She grimaced. No doubt that was the cause of her dream. Throwing back the covers, Gabrielle slid from the bed. No jumping around for her. Some people were early risers, some night owls. She definitely fell into the latter category because she could stay up all night and sleep the day away. Standing beside the bed with her hands stretched above her head, she arched her back and yawned. Time to get up, get dressed, and find some food. And coffee. Definitely coffee. Lots of coffee. She couldn’t begin her day without a cup of the stuff. Minutes later she stood at the dining room entrance. The lawyer was seated at the head of the long table, an empty plate and a coffee cup in front of him. Obviously she wasn’t the only one who’d slept late. She’d expected him to be long gone by now. Pasting a smile on her face, she strolled into the room. “Good morning!” Sharp eyes in an impassive face studied her. Gabrielle returned the favor. Last night, in the dim light of the study, she hadn’t been able to tell much about him. Dark, bland, forgettable. The lawyer cleared his throat and muttered a reluctant, “Good morning.” Placing his napkin beside his coffee cup, he stood. “I’ll be leaving—need to get back into town to file the claims. You’ll have to stay four to six weeks. Give the paperwork time to clear and any possible heir time to contact my office.” Gabrielle wondered if he could possibly sound any less enthused. What, did he hope some long lost family heir was going to magically appear? Collecting his briefcase, he strode to the door. Turning, he addressed Gabrielle one more time. “You’ll want to visit the mausoleum below and pay your respects.” Like a lot of ancient estates in the area, the family vaults were actually located beneath the house. Whatever. She had no respect to pay Roderick. Pausing, he seemed to be waiting for confirmation. He didn’t get one. Gabrielle wasn’t going to even pretend to mourn Roderick. Overlooking her lack of response, he continued as if she’d nodded in agreement. “A word of caution, stay away from the older

crypts. They’re dangerous. Some of them are in need of repair. I’d hate to see you hurt.” His tone didn’t reflect any of the concern he was voicing. She rolled her eyes as he left the room. Yeah, right. She had the feeling the asshole would probably do cartwheels if something happened to her. A plate was set in front of her along with a carafe of coffee. The servant promptly disappeared without saying a word. Gabrielle was so hungry the smell of the food almost turned her stomach. Picking up her fork, she dug in with gusto, practically inhaling the food before her. A few minutes later she too put her napkin down. The plate was empty, as was the coffee carafe. Pushing the chair back, she exited the room. She had no intention of paying her respects to Roderick. She hadn’t respected him while he was alive. To pretend to do so now would make her a hypocrite. On the other hand, she had loved her mother dearly and wanted to visit her mother’s vault.

Chapter Two Ivan ran his tongue along the line of his upper teeth. His incisors were elongated, at least an inch in length now, the longest they’d ever been. It was the hunger. The need to feed was consuming him. His teeth seemed to grow in direct proportion with his appetite. Starvation was driving him closer and closer to bloodlust and the brink of madness. Maybe that was the bastard’s intention, to drive him and his brother, Erik, insane by their inability to feed. That or force them to kill one another. Force one brother to feed off the other. He would enjoy that, Roderick was a cruel bastard. If he ever got out he was going to kill him. Unless Erik beat him to it. Until then, they were trapped in this black prison. Enclosed in an iron room, fed once a month at which time Roderick stood in the doorway, gloating. He kept them alive only to revel in their misery. Ivan waited for the day Roderick made a mistake. Eventually he would, and Ivan would be ready. As a vampyre he knew how to wait, how to let time pass. Roderick would make a mistake and Ivan would make his move and kill him. So far Roderick had been careful, visiting during the day when they had no powers other than that of normal men. Their prison was lined with iron, a metal due to their vampyre blood they could not touch. It prevented them from breaking out in the night when their powers would have been strongest. Would have been, if he fed them more than once a month. He kept them on the edge of starvation and insanity. Ivan was not willing to give up. He was weakened, yes. But he would not surrender to madness nor would he will himself into oblivion. Ivan leaned his head back against the stone pedestal which held his casket. That was another cruel joke of Roderick’s. A reminder of what the world thought of his kind. Either that or it was a hint that he and Erik would never leave this chamber alive. Ironically, they slept in the damn things. Two months. They had not fed for two months. Soon they would have to “go to ground” in order to survive. They did so now out of necessity, hibernating for weeks at a time in order not to lose their sanity. Otherwise, the solitary confinement would have driven them both mad long ago. How he would love to see the moon and roam the night. The pale silver of the waning moon or the brilliance of a full moon were memories he held on to. They sustained him in this black hell. Once he was free of this place he would never again take for granted the beauty of the world around him. A scuffing noise came to him, low and faint. It had his attention immediately. Food. Blood. Ivan’s mouth began to water at the thought. Grimacing, he stood and brushed the dirt from his clothes. When no attempt was made to open the door, he frowned. He could hear footsteps around the vault. Someone was out there. Stepping closer to the door, he cocked his head and listened. One set, there was only one person. The steps were light and cautious, as if the person was unsure of his footing. It was not Roderick. He knew his footsteps well, listened for them, the sound heralding the arrival of food. He stood as close as he could to the door and a scent came to him. It was faint, seeping in through the cracks, the same cracks that allowed air and water to seep in. It was unknown, feminine. A woman stood outside their iron and granite prison.

There was no hint of Roderick nor did he detect the scent of another. She was alone. His sluggish heart leapt with hope. He didn’t question her presence, why she would be exploring the bowels of the house. Here, here at last was their chance to escape. He raised his hand to bang on the door, but stopped before making contact. The iron! Damn! The very thing that kept him locked in prevented him from pounding on it now. Damn! Turning, he wrenched the lid off the nearest casket. It happened to be Erik’s, and the motion was violent enough to rouse him from his stupor. He sat straight up. “What?” “Outside! There’s someone outside!” Ivan threw the lid against the door and a terrible crash reverberated in the vault. “You’ve lost your mind!” Erik gasped, looking at his brother with a mixture of horror and pity. “Shhhh.” Ivan’s gaze left the door long enough to glare at him. Footsteps came closer. Erik must have heard them too, and he sprang from his coffin and crossed the room to stand beside his brother. The footsteps stopped on the other side of the door. “She heard us.” Ivan picked up a large fragment of the broken coffin lid and pounded on the door. “Ajutor!” Help. He called out as loudly as his parched throat and mouth would allow. “Am nevoie de ajutorul tau!” I need your help. He stilled, listening. He and Erik leaned as close as they dared to the iron door. She was still there. Whoever it was had heard them and had not run. But she made no effort to open the door. No doubt she was startled, a little apprehensive. If she knew what waited behind the door, she would have fled immediately. “English, you idiot! Try English.” Erik hissed, more animated now that the prospect of escape was so close. “Help us! We’re trapped and my brother is hurt! He needs a doctor.” This time he called out in English. The response was immediate. “Oh shit! Someone’s trapped in there.” The voice was muffled, yet Ivan heard the horror in it. “Hello! Hello!” A fist pounded on the door. “Can you hear me?” Ivan and Erik grinned at one another. This was it. Their chance. “Da! Yes! I can,” Ivan called back. “I’m going to try to open the door.” They heard huffing and puffing. The door didn’t move. “I can’t open it I need help.” “No! No! Don’t leave! My brother, he’s hurt. It’s bad. If we stay in here much longer…” Ivan let his voice trail off. “It’s okay. I won’t leave you. Let me find something I can use to pry the door open.” The next few minutes were agony for Ivan and Erik. They could hear their unknown savior struggling to open the portal to their hellhole. Then there was a crack! She had done it! She’d opened their cage! Light from a flashlight poured in, blinding them both. Their eyes had long ago adjusted to the darkness, light unnecessary for their supernatural vision. Ivan threw his hands up to cover his eyes, as did Erik. She rushed in. “Who’s hurt? Is it serious?” Denied sustenance for so long, her scent overwhelmed him. The exertion of opening the door caused her heart to pound and the sound tormented him. The blood rushing

through her veins called to him. Ivan seized her, her small, frail body easy to overpower. Even in his weakened state, he was far stronger than a mortal. A small gasp of fright was all she uttered before he overwhelmed her, sinking his teeth into her flesh. The rush of fresh blood was heady, intoxicating. He lost himself in the taste, drawing deeply on the wound. Her taste roused the beast within, and instead of easing, his hunger only grew. He suckled strongly. Gulping the sweet nectar of her blood. “You’re killing her.” It was Erik who stopped him, brought him back from the brink of blood, lust and murder. His voice was muffled and faint against the heartbeat in Ivan’s ears. With difficulty, Ivan loosened his jaws and withdrew his incisors from her neck. Pulling back, he stared down at the damage he’d wrought. She sagged in his arms, her head hanging limp on her neck like a broken flower. The wound on her neck wasn’t large—two small holes. Blood slowly trickled down her pale, slender throat, testimony that the wound was mortal. Had he not taken so much, blood would have welled with each pulse. Now a pulse was barely detectable. Her heartbeat was slowing and growing faint, so different from the frantic drumming moments before. He licked the wound, sealing it. “No, I’ve killed her.” He regretted killing her. It was not the reward she deserved. Roderick had succeeded in turning him into a monster. Scooping her up in his arms, he looked around for somewhere to lay her. The only place he could find was the one coffin still intact. He placed her in the silken bed carefully. The lining of the coffin was white, and a perfect foil for the inky blackness of her hair. The brothers stood over her, studying her pale, lifeless face. She was beautiful, a fact noted by both men. Her hair was as black as the night, her skin as pale as the moon. Ivan reached down and ran a finger down her cheek. Her skin was soft, like the petal of a rose. Then he lifted a lock of her hair. It curled around his finger as if it had a life of its own. Rubbing the curl between two fingers, he found the strands to be silky. “Indeed, she is dying as we speak. Oh, brother, if you had intended for her to die, could you have not saved a drop for me.” A small amount of blood pooled at the bottom of her neck. Erik caught a drop of the precious liquid on his forefinger. Slowly he brought it to his lips and tasted her. “So long, it has been. So long since I have tasted the blood of a beautiful woman. It is truly a wondrous thing.” Ivan turned away, not wanting to see his handiwork. Their mother had taught them that killing mortals was taboo. Forbidden—as to do so would draw attention to their existence. It was something he had done rarely, and until today only in self-defense. “You can save her.” Erik’s voice stopped Ivan from leaving the crypt. He turned to look at his brother, amazed that he would suggest such a thing. “You would have me give her blood? We have no idea who she is. For all we know she is in league with Roderick.” That sounded weak, even to his own ears. Her body did not carry the smell of Roderick nor did her blood taste of his taint. Ivan didn’t know who she was, but he did know she wasn’t Roderick’s minion. “Even if I do, that does not guarantee she will survive.” Neither of them had ever attempted such a feat. It was not an endeavor to be taken lightly. “She saved us from the torment of bloodlust and insanity. She freed us from our torture chamber. Is this how we are to repay her? If so, we are no better than Roderick.” Erik rolled up his sleeve. He lengthened a nail, preparing to open a vein. Ivan

stopped him. He could not let his brother make reparation for what he had done. The debt was his. He was the one who had lost control. Erik had been without blood as long as he, but somehow he had managed not to attack the woman. The crime was his. “No. You’re right. I cannot leave her to die without trying to save her. Though if she survives and she awakens, I’m not sure she’ll call it salvation, more likely damnation.” Ivan rolled up his shirtsleeve. Elongating the nail of his forefinger, he opened the vein on his wrist. Blood welled up and rolled down his arm. He pressed the self-inflicted injury to her mouth. Unconscious, near death, the woman made no effort to draw on his flesh. Rubbing his wrist against her lips until they parted, he let the ruby liquid trickle into her mouth and down her throat. When he judged he had shared enough, he licked his own wound, sealing the skin. “We can’t leave her here. It’ll terrify her to awaken in a coffin. If she awakens.” He scooped her fragile form up into his arms. Her head fell back, exposing the pale slenderness of her throat, and her hair cascaded over his arm like a black waterfall. Cradling her in his arms, Ivan strode to the doorway. He turned at the entrance to address Erik, who was still standing in the shadows. “Shut the door so Roderick won’t be alerted of our escape. We will deal with him tonight.” He strode out, the woman cradled against his chest. Ivan decided to leave her at the base of the stairs. There she would be close to the exit should she awaken. If not, it would look like she had fallen. He couldn’t risk taking her into the mansion. He didn’t know if Roderick was in the residence and he didn’t want to risk him discovering his and Erik’s escape. The element of surprise would be on their side when they confronted him. Kneeling, he gently, carefully laid her on the cold granite floor. This woman he had made his. Having taken her life and given her his blood, he had tied them together for all eternity. He didn’t even know her name or why she had been in the vaults. He ran his gaze over her body. A red, long sleeved shirt clung to the curve of her breast. Long legs, encased in faded denim, led up to rounded hips and a narrow waist. The denim rode low on her hips and a strip of pale flesh was left exposed. He could see the indentation of her belly button. Her hair fanned out around her in a black silky tangle. Since her eyes were closed, he couldn’t see their color. But he took in the shape of her brow and the curve of her lips. Lips that were full and generous, though pale from her recent loss of blood. In all honesty, he would have no problem claiming her. Footsteps sounded behind him, and turning he looked at his brother Erik. Pale, gaunt, in truth he looked like the walking dead. Ivan knew he did not look any better. Perhaps it was for the best she had not seen them. He stood and Erik came to stand beside him, both of them gazing down upon the unconscious woman. She wouldn’t remember being bitten. The events that led up to it would be foggy if she remembered them at all. “If she lives, I’ll come for her.” It was a grim promise.

Chapter Three Standing at the bottom of the stairs, Gabrielle held onto the stone banister tightly as dizziness swamped her. For the last few days, she had been decidedly under the weather. Tired, dizzy, hungry, yet nauseous at the thought of food. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply. Get it together, Gabby. Man she felt like crap, had felt that way since she had regained consciousness at the bottom of the stairs. She had awakened slow and sluggish, her heartbeat drumming in her ears, her mouth dry as cotton and her tongue feeling too thick for her mouth. With great effort she’d pulled herself up and crept up the stairs and into her room. She’d passed out on her bed, and slept throughout the day and night. What had happened? The last thing she remembered was entering her mother’s vault. Next thing she knew, she was coming to on the floor. She didn’t remember feeling faint, she didn’t even remember leaving the vault. She noted the shadows on the floor. It was late afternoon. Damn. She’d slept the day away. Again. Hunger cramped her stomach, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since sometime yesterday. She just needed to get on a schedule. She had her days and nights mixed up, and she wasn’t eating regularly. A couple of days from now she’d be right as rain. She couldn’t do anything about sleeping late today, but she could stop missing meals. All activity ceased when she came through the kitchen door. The cook and a maid turned to stare. Gabrielle stared back. No one spoke and an awkward silence fell. Finally, the cook wiped her hands and turned to completely face her. “Can I help you?” Her voice was heavily accented. “Yes, I’m afraid I slept late again.” She smiled self depreciatingly. “Probably jet lag.” She tried to be personable. “I hate to bother you, but I was wondering if I could have a sandwich and a pot of tea.” A stony gaze and silence met her request. What in the hell was it with these people? Sick to her stomach, Gabrielle felt her patience stretch to breaking point. Before she said something she would probably regret, the maid spoke in what sounded like Romanian. Turning to look at the girl, the cook replied then turned back to Gabrielle. “As you wish. Luba will serve you in the dining room.” The words were wooden. That did it. The proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. So much for being agreeable. Gabrielle had felt foolish keeping the staff. Hell, she didn’t need a cook, a maid, a butler and a gardener, but she didn’t want to arrive and immediately fire everyone. Obviously her gesture had gone to waste. If they wanted a grand mistress she’d give them one. “I prefer a tray be sent to my room. I don’t feel well. You may send a dinner tray later this evening as well.” Her tone was imperious. She meant for it to be. If the cook wanted attitude, she had plenty to give her. The cook’s nose flared, the only outward sign of her reaction to the order. She nodded once in acquiescence. “As you wish.” Turning, Gabrielle left the room. She felt no satisfaction with the exchange, just a sense of gloominess.

A light lunch and nap did nothing to restore her energy. Still lethargic, she decided to explore the house in hope of alleviating the blues. She wandered around aimlessly, reacquainting herself with the place. The rooms downstairs, except for the library and dining room, were closed and dusty, the furniture covered in drop cloths. Looking out the library window, she noted the poor condition of the lawn, which brought to mind the worn exterior she had seen last night. It seemed both the groundskeeper and the maid had grown lax. Well, that would change or she would have no problem firing either one of them. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do with the place. She had the money to maintain its upkeep, thanks to her father. Still, it needed an overhaul whether she put it on the market or kept it. Deciding she needed to check out the upper level, she turned from the window and left the library. It didn’t take long for her to conclude that the rooms on the second and third floors were in the same condition as the ones downstairs. At least the furniture had been protected and was in excellent condition. She determined the entire house needed an intense spring cleaning. A gallery ran the length of the second floor. There were some landscapes, but for the most part the paintings were of people long dead. Taking her time, Gabrielle strolled the length of the hall, reacquainting herself with the portraits. Many of the paintings depicted men and women of an age long gone by, a majority of whom had dark hair and eyes. As she neared the end of the hall, the last group of portraits caught her attention. One was a family portrait, a woman seated with two men standing on either side and slightly behind. They were all young and obviously related, the family resemblance was strong. Next was an individual painting of each. Again the dark hair, but the detail of the individual features set them apart. This part of the family had no doubt inherited all of the looks. One in particular drew her attention. Black hair tied back revealed incredibly handsome features. Full sensual lips and black smoldering eyes, bedroom eyes, lent his face a burning sex appeal. Even by today’s standards he would be considered a hunk. She leaned in to read the name on the gold plate mounted on the bottom of the frame. “Ivan Harker. I bet you drove the women crazy.” Gabrielle moved to study the next portrait and it seemed those dark, sultry eyes followed. Suddenly she felt trapped by that gaze and she felt her heart jump in alarm. Don’t be silly, Gabby. It’s a painting technique, that’s all. Still, it gave her the creeps, and creeped out or not, she couldn’t look away from him. She felt drawn to him, and there was a nagging sense, a familiarity. It was almost as if she knew him. With great difficulty, she pulled her gaze away from his to concentrate on the next portrait. The subject was definitely Ivan’s brother. They didn’t look enough alike to be twins, but the resemblance was remarkable. She noted his name. His face, though compelling, didn’t captivate her as Ivan’s had. Her gaze wandered over to the last portrait. Madalina Harker. Incredibly beautiful, she had probably broken just as many hearts. Once upon a time, the Harkers had produced some good-looking people. Then again Roderick had been a handsome man, his ugliness had been within. She wondered if besides good looks, cruelty was a family trait. Was this trio as cruel and heartless as their descendant had been? Suddenly the events of the last few days caught up with her and exhaustion pressed down on her. The thought of eating didn’t perk her up and she decided to cancel her dinner tray. If she wanted something to eat, she’d wander down to the kitchen later. For

now, a bath and a good night’s sleep became top priority. Tired, her body achy, Gabrielle headed to her room for a long soak in the tub. **** “Here we are free, yet unable to take revenge on our captor. Roderick dies without our help.” His tone mocking, Erik turned to face his brother. That’s anti-climactic to say the least.” Ignoring him, Ivan kept his stare glued to Gabrielle’s disappearing figure. The brothers stood behind Ivan’s portrait, in a secret passage that ran the length of the portrait gallery. Immediately after leaving Gabrielle at the foot of the steps, they had searched out food. Several inhabitants of the nearby village were now suffering the same lethargic symptoms Gabrielle suffered. Still, as far as Ivan was concerned they should count themselves lucky. It had taken all of his self-control not to completely drain them of their life’s blood. “Freed by Roderick’s heir, no less. Should we thank her?” Getting no response, he prodded a little harder. “No, I guess not. Making her one of us was thanks enough, eh?” Erik shrugged and continued. “Or maybe not. Depends on how you look at it. On how she looks at it.” Ivan continued to ignore his brother’s verbal jabs, knowing it was his way of dealing with his anger and frustration. Though Erik acted as if he had put their imprisonment behind them, he had not. Eventually it would come to the surface, and when it did, Erik was going to be a very dangerous man. Satisfying their most basic need, to eat, they had returned to the estate to appease another. Revenge. They had been free for a matter of hours, only to discover their desire for vengeance would go unsatisfied. Their enemy was dead. And in his place, the delectable Gabrielle. He’d had one taste of her. He wanted another. “So when are you going to claim your bride? I don’t think she’ll complain about your looks. She thinks you’re hot. It’s the part about sucking blood that’s going to be difficult. Can’t see her agreeing to that, or appreciating you sucking hers. That might keep you out of her bed.” “Pupa-ma-n cur.” Reverting to Romanian was a sure sign that Erik had struck a nerve. “Kiss your ass?” Erik laughed. “Wouldn’t you rather kiss hers?” Yes, he had. The last few days had given him the opportunity to appease one hunger, but not another. Yes indeed he wanted to kiss her, sink his teeth into her, bury his cock in her. “Your comments and presence are not necessary.” He knew his brother would continue to push him to claim the woman. By focusing on Ivan, he was ignoring his own problems. The smirk melting from his face, Erik became serious. “She survived. She won’t understand the changes she’ll be going through. You have to claim her.” It was too soon, for both of them. He knew she’d not had a part in their imprisonment. He knew they had her to thank for releasing them. Both he and his brother owed her their lives and their sanity. But, unable to seek justice, he wasn’t entirely able to lay his rage and need for revenge to rest. Even now he could feel the fury boil up inside

him, seeking an outlet. Until he could get a handle on his anger, it would be best that he did not approach her. Not to mention that this woman had no idea of his existence. No idea what he was, what he had inadvertently made her. Though she was not completely converted yet, he would eventually have to finish the process. Soon she would begin to feel a hunger that she could not assuage, and a sharp increase in her senses that would be difficult to handle. Sleep would be difficult and at times she would doubt her own sanity. He wondered if she would come to resent the transformation he was going to force upon her. Would she have preferred that he left her to die? If he claimed her now it would only end in pain and suffering. He would be sentencing her to live with something she would see as a monster. He was going to claim her, of that he had no doubt. She would be his, but he would have her willing if possible. Today was the beginning of his assault. He planned on revealing himself to her slowly, as he came to terms with himself. Ivan stepped out into the gallery. Turning, he blocked Erik’s attempt to join him. “Go.” Before Eric could protest, he snapped the secret door shut and he was alone. Moving quickly, silently, he trailed Gabrielle. Arriving at her door, he found it locked. As if a locked door would ever keep him out. A mortal man, yes, but never him. There was nothing on this earth that could keep her from him. Dissolving into a fine mist, he slipped under the door and into Gabrielle’s bedroom. She was not there, but the sound of running water let him know she was in the next room, so he reclaimed his natural form. Her scent permeated the room, and he inhaled her essence into his lungs. Drifting about her room, he noted her personal effects. A paperback book lay open and face down on the table beside the bed. The title brought a faint, humorless smile to his lips. If she liked Bram Stoker’s half-truths, he could give her the rest of the story. There were no clothes lying about the room. Indicating she was an orderly person, but not overly so since the bed wasn’t made. Private too, or the maid would have made the bed. Obviously she didn’t want the maid in her room. That was an advantage for him. Gliding over to the dresser he noted the collection of bottles. Creams, lotions, perfumes. He lifted one to smell. The odor overwhelmed his vampyric sense of smell and he jerked the bottle away from his face. The bottle made a slight noise when it made contact with dresser. There was a splash of water in the bathroom. She had heard him. The sound of water sloshing about told him she was coming to investigate. “Hello?” A pause. He knew she was listening, could her heartbeat speed up in alarm. “Luba?” He heard a hopeful wish in her tone, her effort not to be afraid. Silently, he once again dissolved into a mist and floated up to drift along the ceiling. The bathroom door jerked open. Gabrielle stood there, a towel wrapped around her. She hadn’t taken the time to dry off, and water glistened on her skin, the damp towel clinging to her curves. She’d pulled her hair up, revealing a long, slender neck, and wet corkscrew curls framed her face and clung to her neck. She licked her lips nervously, and Ivan’s gaze narrowed in on the action. Her lips were full and beautifully shaped. He found himself wanting to taste them. Lick them. Striding to the door, she rattled the knob. It was still locked. She tapped her forehead on the panel a few times. “You are losing it, Gabby.” She turned to lean back against the

door and surveyed the empty room. “You’re hearing ghosts.” Straightening from the door, Gabrielle crossed the room and pulled out her gown before disappearing back into the bathroom. Ivan heard her brushing her teeth. Moments later she reappeared in a long white gown. Snapping off the light, she crawled into bed. Ivan watched her toss and turn, unable to find a comfortable position. Within minutes, the bed was destroyed, sheets and comforter hopelessly disheveled. One leg in, one leg out, on her stomach with no pillow, on her side holding the pillow. Nothing seemed to work. Groaning in frustration, she leapt from the bed. She paced the length of the room from door to window. Floating above her, Ivan watched Gabrielle prowl the room. Every so often she would stop and look out at the moon. She didn’t understand what was happening, but he did. The night was calling to her and he longed to show her the beauty to be found in it. Though he was capable of walking in the day, it was the night he preferred. The elegance of moonlight shining through the trees, the coolness of the breeze, soothed his heightened senses. The night offered a solitude and mystery that the day didn’t, and it appealed to the loner in him. Delicately, a little at a time, he entered her mind. He didn’t want to hurt her or scare her, and if she sensed his presence she would panic, or think herself crazy. As he penetrated her mind, he was swamped with the thoughts and emotions rushing through her. He felt her frustration and loneliness. Sleep. It was a gentle push. If a push or compulsion was too hard it would hurt. Sleep. A little firmer. Her steps slowed and came to a halt. Ivan watched her crawl between the covers, a sigh of exhaustion escaping her lips. She was asleep within seconds. Drifting down, Ivan wrapped her sleeping form in his mist. With each inhalation, she pulled him into her body, made him a part of her. He in turn felt himself sink into her being, felt himself become a part of her. Now she would know him. Should she sense his presence she would not fear it. Instead she would feel comfort in it.

Chapter Four Agitated, Gabrielle paced the length of the bedroom, her long hair flaring out each time she spun around. It was two o’clock in the morning and still she couldn’t sleep. Impatience and frustration warred within her body and mind. Her body was infused with a strange energy, a sense of expectation, of wanting something. She didn’t know what. The inability to ease the energy building within her was going to drive her insane. She wondered if this was how drug addicts felt when hyped up. For the last month she had worked herself to the bone repairing and cleaning the house. There was not a room—and there were seventy-five of them—she had not entered and inventoried. Yet, no matter how hard she worked, how physically exhausted she became, the minute the sun went down her body refused to let her sleep. Then she would spend hours, sometimes all night, pacing, only to fall asleep in the early morning hours, the sun minutes from rising. She would sleep most of the day to awaken in the late afternoon. She’d considered simply changing her lifestyle. As it was, she did most of the work around the house at night anyway. She had no one to answer to. She could work all night and sleep all day if she wanted to do so. If it had been as simple as a change in sleep habits, she might have considered that. But it wasn’t. Gabrielle was beginning to believe the place was haunted. Sometimes she could enter a room and swear that someone had been in there moments before. There was no physical evidence, no strange noises. She just knew that she wasn’t alone. Sometimes the feeling was so strong she would spin around half expecting someone to be standing there. Walking along the portrait gallery, she felt as if eyes were watching her. Trying to shake the feeling, she’d told herself not to be stupid. All the eyes in the gallery were painted! Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling. Gabrielle wondered if she was experiencing paranoia, which coupled with sleeplessness, could be a sign she was near some kind of a breakdown. There was a flash of movement and Gabrielle whirled to her left only to see herself in the mirror. A self she no longer recognized. Moving to stand in front of the mirror, she studied her reflection. Always pale, now her skin was nearly translucent. The only color was the green of her eyes and black of her hair. She’d lost weight and the fine bone structure of her face was revealed. She didn’t look sickly, but Gabrielle had begun to suspect she was. Not only could she not sleep, she could barely tolerate food. No matter how hungry she was, food could not satisfy her. Within an hour of eating she’d be hungry again. A constant craving for something she could not identify. She only knew she wanted, needed, something. Even now she felt the need build in her, a need for something. The something she could not identify and left her agitated and irritable. Hunger struck low in her belly. The need to eat, to feed, overwhelmed Gabrielle. Pulling on a robe she headed to the kitchen below. She needed to find something, anything to quell the feeling of emptiness. The corridor was completely dark. The only light in the upper gallery was provided by the moon, which was high in the sky and shining through the bank of windows that lined the passage. Opposite the windows were the cursed portraits. The moonlight struck them at a particular angle, making it appear as if the eyes were watching her. Shivering,

she pulled her robe closer, and hurried down the hall to the stairs. Swearing she was definitely going to change bedrooms, this was the last time she was going to force herself to walk down this hallway. It was stupid. There were plenty of other bedrooms to choose from that didn’t require she walk down this particular corridor. The stairs were worse. There was no moonlight there and the head of the marble staircase looked like a gaping mouth. Gabrielle halted at the upper landing, but amazingly she didn’t need to grow accustomed to the dark, she could see! Still, she hesitated before starting her descent. Gabrielle couldn’t shake the feeling she was being watched. She could feel eyes following her. For a moment she was tempted to run back to her room and lock the door. Instead she squared her shoulders and started down the stairs. She was not going to be defeated by the ghosts in her mind. There was a landing at the middle of the staircase; a break in the stairs that allowed them to branch off into two directions. Anyone standing on the landing had an unobstructed view of the foyer below. She stood there, looking, waiting for something. When nothing jumped out of the shadows, Gabrielle relaxed her shoulders. She snorted at her own imagination. Damn, she’d scared herself! Forcing her tense shoulders to relax, she made her way down to the foyer. Even though there were no lights, she easily made her way to the kitchen. Minutes and a sandwich later, she was still unsatisfied. Moonlight shone through the windows and caused the tile floor to gleam. Gabrielle walked over to look out the window. The moon shone brightly, calling to her, luring her out into the night. Gabrielle. Her name floated on the night air and echoed in her head. Gabrielle. There was a seductive quality to the voice she could not refuse. It pulled her to her feet. As if in a trance, she walked sedately out the backdoor and down to the gardens. The night was so beautiful. The grass was cool beneath her bare feet, the breeze blew her hair back from her face, cooling her and bringing the scent of roses. The sounds, there were a multitude of sounds, were like a nighttime chorus singing to her. He appeared in front of her. He simply was there where moments before there had been nothing. His black gaze held her transfixed. Strangely, she felt no fear. It was as if she knew him. As if she had come out here knowing she would meet him. “I have being waiting for you, Gabrielle.” His voice was deep, melodious. It struck a chord of response deep inside her. “Come with me.” He held a hand out and Gabrielle took it. Silently, they walked the garden paths. She felt at ease, safe. In the center there was a fountain and benches. Blood-red roses bloomed profusely, perfuming the air. They stopped in the center and he turned her to face him. Coal-black eyes looked at her. Yet there was nothing cold about the stare. She could see a flame of desire flickering within their depths. Then he kissed her and Gabrielle felt the world spin and drop away. His lips were warm and petal soft. They moved gently over hers and she parted her lips in welcome. His tongue licked the inside of her mouth and lower lip. It curled around her tongue and pulled it into his mouth where he sucked on it lightly. Gabrielle’s stomach contracted and she whimpered, pressing her body closer to him. He tasted so good she couldn’t get enough of him. Locking her hands behind his neck, she kissed him back. Desperate kisses, wet kisses, slow deep kisses. This was what she had been craving, the hunger she was unable to feed. More, she needed more of him, his taste. Gabrielle’s knees weakened and she sank against him, his body and hands the only

things that kept her from falling to her knees. Holding her close, he lowered her to the soft grass. Then he was over her, on top of her. She was trapped between fire and ice, the cool grass beneath her, the heat of the aroused male above her. His lips blazed a heated trail down her throat and Gabrielle arched her neck to give him better access. His tongue glided along her collar bone, teeth nipping at the flesh of her shoulder. The slight sting caused a tingle along her nerve endings. She clenched her hands in his long silky hair, holding him to her. Goosebumps spread across her skin, and she felt an unreasonable desire for him to bite her. “Please,” she whispered, and didn’t even know what she was begging for. “Please.” Large hands palmed her breasts and thumbs stroked across her nipples. The white cotton of her gown provided no protection from the sensation. It was electrifying. A hotwire of feeling rippled through her and caused a pulse in her loins. She whimpered in response. She wanted to feel his hands on her skin. As if reading her mind, he pushed the gown from her shoulders and down her chest. Her hands dropped from his hair as her arms were trapped in the sleeves of her gown and she lay helpless beneath him. He rose up above her, staring at her exposed breasts. His muttered, “Beautiful,” caused her to thrust her chest forward. The air washed over her breasts causing her nipples to tighten. When he pinched a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, Gabrielle cried out and arched up against him. The connection between her breast and her pussy was unbearable. With each twist of his fingers, the ache in her nipples transferred to an ache in her pussy. She could feel herself moisten and pulse. Leaning forward, he locked on to one nipple, pulling it into his mouth. Trapping the turgid peak between his tongue and the roof of his mouth, he began to suckle. Gabrielle felt the pull in her stomach, and her pussy spasmed. Hands trapped, she could do nothing but dig her nails into the earth beneath her as she tossed her head from side to side. Mindless with desire, with need. A knee was wedged between her legs and pressed up against her mound. Yes! That was what she needed. Whimpering, she locked her legs around his thigh, holding it to her, pulling him tighter to her. The pressure caused the ache in her sex to build. She wanted to come, was desperate to come. Desire raged through, like nothing she had ever experienced. Shuddering at the intensity of the feeling, she began to rock against him, trying to ease the ache. Instead of easing it, the motion caused it to grow and worsen. Hands slid down to her hips and began to guide them in a rhythmic thrust. As the ache intensified, she began grinding herself against him. So close, she was so close, desperate to find relief yet unable to do so. Loosening her legs from around his, Gabrielle shifted until he rested completely between her thighs, groin to groin. He was as excited as she. She could feel his erection pressed against her. Angling her hips so the outline of his penis pressed against her clit, she began to rub against him, pushing up against the ridge of his erection. His hands tightened on her hips and then urged her on, while he met and increased her rhythm. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced in her life. Tiny moans escaped from her, slight shudders of need shook her. Her whole body tightened, preparing for the explosion. Then it did, and Gabrielle’s climax tore through her, causing her body to stiffen as tremors

shook her. Strangely, she felt the urge to bite him. Simultaneously with her climax, a sharp, piercing pain radiated from her neck. Throwing back her head, Gabrielle screamed in agony and ecstasy. Trembling, she pressed tightly to him, hoping to make the feeling last. Raising his head from her neck, he kissed her, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, pulling her tongue into his. He tasted hot, metallic. She clutched the back of his head. Holding him to her, she opened her mouth wider and suckled his tongue, coming again from the taste of him. Lifting his head, he stared at her. There was a strange glow in his eyes, like a cat in the night. Before she had time to react, a large hand cupped the back of her head. Her face was pressed into his neck. She could smell him, feel the warmth of his flesh. Feed. A voice echoed in her head. Gabrielle tried to pull back and look up into her lover’s face, but the hand kept her head immobile. Feed. The voice became more insistent. She shook her head not comprehending, not understanding what was expected of her. A sharp pain ricocheted through her head and she whimpered. Feed. Take what you need from me. The compulsion was too strong, she couldn’t fight it. Opening her mouth, she licked his neck. It was salty and slightly rough. His pulse beat against her tongue, she could hear the blood rushing through his veins, and Gabrielle felt her stomach cramp with hunger. The urge to bury her teeth in his flesh was overwhelming. A soft growl rattled in her throat. It was that startling sound that stopped her from following through with her intentions. Pulling back, she stared up at him, horrified by her hunger for his blood. “No!” Pushing against him, Gabrielle scrambled to her feet preparing to run back into the house. This had gone way too far. She’d lost her fucking mind! Running through the garden, she didn’t look back. She was afraid of what she would see, that he was real and not a figment of her imagination. Truly, she didn’t know which would be worse. Reaching the house, she immediately locked the kitchen door. Running through the darkened house, she ran until she could lock her own bedroom door. Crossing the room, she stared out the window frantically searching the yard, looking for him. He was not there. The grounds were shrouded in mist, the bushes and hedges nothing more than creepy shadows. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply and held it, trying to calm her breathing and racing heart. Exhaling, Gabrielle licked suddenly dry lips. Immediately her eyes snapped open. No. Please no. This had to be a dream. Walking over to the mirror, she grinned at herself. Nope. Nothing there. Relief washed through her. Wanting to double check, to make sure she wasn’t crazy, she pressed closer to the mirror and lifted her upper lip with both thumbs and forefingers. She immediately dropped her lip. Just to be sure, she lifted it again. “I’ve lost my mind. None of this is true. I don’t have fangs. In the morning I’m going to wake up and…” “You haven’t lost your mind.” Gabrielle whirled around, a squeak of alarm all she could manage. He was standing there, arms crossed watching her. Her heart began to pound. Opening her mouth, she started to scream herself awake. He was on her before a sound left her mouth. His speed so fast, she didn’t see him move. He was just there. Spinning her around to face the mirror, he pulled her to him. He was still aroused

and she could feel his erection pressing into the small of her back. She felt a renewed throb between her legs. Leaning in, he inhaled her scent before he whispered in her ear. His breath stirring her hair caused goose bumps to appear on her arms and her nipples peaked. “Look in the mirror.” His voice was compelling, giving her no choice but to obey. She looked. In the dim light she couldn’t see much of him. Hair as black as her own had a bluish sheen in the light. His eyes were as black as his hair, with a slight exotic slant that so many Eastern Europeans seemed to have. Full, well defined lips stretched into a smile and revealed his teeth. White, straight teeth. Teeth most people have to spend a fortune to have. Then she noticed his fangs. Eyes rolling back, Gabrielle fainted. **** The painful throb in her neck caused Gabrielle to wake. Sitting up, she cupped her neck, rubbing the tender spot. No doubt she’d slept on it wrong. Last night she had slept deeply, and for the first time in a long time, dreamlessly. Obviously she hadn’t moved in her sleep and her neck was stiff from staying in a prone position. Rotating her head on her shoulders, she tried to work the crick out, only to stop when it didn’t work. Gabrielle looked out the window and immediately jumped from the bed. The sun was high in the sky. Damn it! She had slept most of the morning away. Cursing, stumbling about the room, she rushed to get dressed. Double damn it! She’d wanted to go to Brasov today. Do some shopping, do a little sightseeing. She needed a break, time around other people. Living out here in the sticks, even in a castle, was wearing her down, making her on edge. A shopping trip is just what she’d needed to put herself on an even keel. After pulling on jeans and a sweatshirt, she headed downstairs to find something to eat. The cook would have something on hand. That was a tenuous relationship at best. Gabrielle, Luba, and the cook were the only ones in the residence. She and Luba had made their peace and the little maid was working out quite well. But the cook, she was something else. In Gabrielle’s mind she was simply the cook, though the woman had more duties than that now. She was still in charge of the kitchen, but she was also in charge of the laundry and helping out with the cleaning. Over the last month a schedule had been worked out that suited all three women. A swinging door separated the kitchen from the back hall. Gabrielle put her hand on the door to push it open, when the conversation inside stopped her. Her socks must have muffled her footsteps and the two inside had not heard her approach. “Listen to me. There is something wrong with her. She sleeps all day and prowls the night.” That was the cook’s voice. “She is simply tired and lonely. You are seeing ghosts when there are none.” Luba was defending her. Though they spoke in Romanian, she understood them. She wasn’t as ignorant of the Romanian language as she had led the lawyer and house staff to believe. After all, when she was a teenager she had spent her summer vacations here and she had become almost fluent in the language before she had left at eighteen. Though she hadn’t spoken it in years, and no longer considered herself fluent, the last month had done much to bring her language skills back. She was pissed to know the two of them were talking about her. Eyes narrowed, Gabrielle pushed the door open, startling the women into silence.

“Pardon. Nu vorbesc bine Româneste.” Excuse me. I don’t speak Romanian well. Not a completely true statement. She spoke it far better than she was willing to let them know. That got their attention. Luba gasped while the cook’s mouth dropped open in amazement. Satisfaction curled through her at the sight of their shocked expressions. She spoke in Romanian to prove her point, before switching into English. “But I do speak it.” She locked gazes with the cook. “I much prefer you ask me for the answers to any question you have that concerns me. I don’t care for gossip.” Luba stuttered out an apology. The cook, arrogant as always, said nothing. Lips pursed, the woman whirled around and began straightening the items set about on the counter. “If you don’t like your job or your employer, you are welcome to seek employment elsewhere.” Gabrielle had had it with the sullen looks, the nasty demeanor. The woman was going to have a serious attitude adjustment or she was going to go. “You work three days a week, plus room and board. You are free to come and go as you please. Your duties are light to say the least, there are only the three of us living here. In truth I don’t need a cook, two thirds of what you do is for yourself and Luba.” The older woman spun around, a look of surprise on her florid face. She opened and closed her mouth several times, as if she were searching for something to say. Ignoring her, Gabrielle carried on. “I’m tired of your attitude. Adjust it or leave. I need to go into town. See the lawyer, do some shopping. Since it’s so late, I won’t be returning tonight, I’ll just get a room in town. When I get back tomorrow, I hope, for your sake, I see a marked improvement.” Spinning around, she strode from the room, head held high, refusing to let the spiteful old woman see how shaken she was. The fact that she was old was the only thing that stopped her from firing the old battleaxe on the spot. She was troubled by what she had overheard and as a consequence her appetite was gone. Great. That was just what she needed. To miss another meal. Maybe she did need a break. This place, the solitude, and hard work had caught up with her. She’d go into town and stay a couple of days. It was too late to see the lawyer today anyway.

Chapter Five The drive into town was long enough to calm Gabrielle’s agitation and put her in a better frame of mind. By the time she reached the city limits it was early afternoon. There was still a bit of time to check into the hotel and do a little exploring. The thought of shopping and wandering in and out of the stores perked her up. No doubt there was a new outfit or two waiting for her. Clothes, shopping in general, were truly Gabrielle’s weaknesses. She loved clothes— formal clothes, casual clothes, the silks and cottons of summer and the wools and tweeds of winter. Pretty undergarments and expensive matching panty sets filled her coffers. Seasonal purses with matching wallets lined the shelves of her closet. She acknowledged that shopping was her outlet, her way of dealing with loneliness, depression or anger. Gabrielle drove through the downtown area. Shops lined both sides of the street. Pedestrians strolled down the sidewalks, while others sat in open air cafes. She remembered Europeans ate much later than Americans. Mealtimes were a time for socialization. Even sitting alone amidst them would be company. To be able to simply be around people who were smiling would be a welcome change from the sullen faces she had lived with for the last month. She was used to being alone. She had been alone since her mother had died, since she’d left the hell of her stepfather’s house. Over the years she’d made friends. Girlfriends she could shop with and have the occasional lunch. Boyfriends she dated, the usual dinner and a movie, but seldom slept with. She had quickly discovered she didn’t enjoy sex without emotion, yet found herself unable to feel but the slightest of affection for any of the men in her life. One had actually stayed for a while and tried to break through the wall that protected her emotions—a wall that she had built, brick by brick, while living with Roderick. Eventually he too had given up. That had been over a year ago. She hadn’t dated anyone since. Driving in Europe was tricky and difficult for many Americans. Luckily, she’d learned to drive over here and felt no intimidation at the chaos of in-town traffic. She easily located Aro Palace Hotel, a four-star hotel situated in the very center of the oldest part of town. After checking in, she quickly carried her overnight bag to her suite. The hotel offered many things that could have kept Gabrielle on-site; restaurants that ranged from traditional Romanian to international cuisine, a daytime and nighttime bar, plus casino. But she decided a light afternoon lunch followed by a couple of hours shopping was just what the doctor ordered. She wasted no time unpacking and freshening up. A quick touch up of make-up and she was ready. Stepping back, she studied herself in the mirror. Khaki pants, silk sweater and leather shoes with a low heel would not call attention to her tourist status. Sneakers and denim were a dead giveaway, screaming tourist. Her dark hair would help her fit in with the locals as well. In this part of Eastern Europe, dark hair dominated the gene pool. Grabbing her bag, she was out the door and heading for the cafe she had spotted earlier. Moments later she was seated outside Bastion, a cup of coffee and a pastry before her. Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back, leaning her face up to the afternoon sun. Voices from the table behind her murmured around her and in her ears. Every now and then she would catch a phrase out of the jumble of conversation.

Opening her eyes, she reached for her coffee. Sipping the strong, hot brew she casually glanced around her, noting that the cafe was emptying of people. Only three tables remained occupied. The scrape of iron against concrete behind her let her know that soon the only other customer would be the man who sat across the patio in the shade of his table umbrella, reading a newspaper. The couple behind her was preparing to leave. Considering the topic of their earlier conversation, no doubt it was to return home. Gabrielle wondered if the man would be able to do half the things he had promised. If so, she really needed to find a European lover. Maybe that would be the cure for her lack of interest in sex for the last year. Taking a bite of her pastry, she closed her eyes in appreciation for the warm, buttery taste. If shopping was one of her weaknesses, then pastries were the other. She was a regular at the bakery back home. In fact, the baker had come to know her quite well and always had a new delicacy for her to try. If she ever needed to go on a diet, it wouldn’t be a low-carb one. When she opened her eyes, her gaze collided with the cafe’s only other occupant. The connection was almost electrical. She felt the impact of his dark stare. Caught, she was unable to tear her eyes away from his. Given the man’s appearance, he was probably accustomed to women staring at him, drooling over him. Inky-black hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, leaving his face in stark relief and revealing a wide forehead, a slash of dark eyebrows over wide-set eyes, and full, sensual lips. His nose, though slim, was a little too long. Still, it only added to the perfection of his face, a compelling sensual face. A face that pulled at something in her and struck a spark of recognition. The sexual pull he had was incredible, his impact on her senses, devastating. Nor could she shake the feeling she knew him. Thankfully he broke the contact when a waiter appeared at his elbow. Looking down, she toyed with her napkin and fought the impulse to look up. She wondered if he was staring at her or if he had already left the café. Perversely, she hoped not. This immediate attraction was something new for her. Excitement rushed through her veins and butterflies fluttered in her stomach. Unable to resist the urge any longer, she looked up. He was gone. Disappointment made the corners of her mouth turn down. It was probably for the best. Her instant magnetism to a complete stranger was not something she felt comfortable with. Gabrielle was accustomed to feeling a distant attraction to the opposite sex, not this hot need and instant recognition. Angling her chair so she could look out onto the street, she put her back to the patio in order to study the people walking along the streets. People-watching was a favorite pastime of hers. Studying people, noting the odd, peculiar traits that made them individuals was an eye opener into human social interaction. Watching sexily dressed women prance around, only to be scrutinized by other women, led her to the conclusion women dress for other women. Clothes were the modern woman’s method of intimidating rivals. Observing unshaven men who dressed in rumpled clothes approaching the sexy women, she concluded that man had reversed the mating process. In nature the male was more flamboyant in their effort to compete for a mate, while the female was drab. A shadow fell across her table and she looked up expecting the waiter. Instead she got the shock of her life. It was him, the other lone diner. The hot guy. She felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach and her heart began to race. Her mouth fell open, but

nothing came out. For the first time in her life she was speechless. He was even more devastating up close. The nagging sense of familiarity intensified. She knew this man, which was a complete and total impossibility. Yet there was something about him, something she couldn’t put her finger on. “I noticed you were alone, as am I. Perhaps you would like some company?” The deep timbre of his voice echoed along her nerves. His English was flawless, his accent minimal. Frustrated with her star struck response to his presence, she frowned. “I’m sorry, I was being presumptuous.” When he turned to leave, Gabrielle snapped to her senses. A gorgeous man wanted to sit at her table. Star-struck she might be, but stupid she wasn’t. “No!” She spoke a little too loud, but it gained his attention. He turned back. “No, you weren’t. Please, I’d love some company.” He placed a hand on the back of the chair facing her, preparing to pull it out. “Are you sure? If you prefer to be alone…” His voice trailed off. No, she didn’t prefer to be alone. Gabrielle smiled at him, her face easing and giving him a glimpse of her charm. “I’m positive. Please sit down.” Once he was seated, he gained the attention of the waiter. Not by rudely snapping his fingers, but simply by making eye contact. The man appeared almost immediately. Talk about a commanding presence, Gabrielle was impressed. “You are having more than a pastry?” A look of expectancy crossed his face. “Shall I order a small sample of my county’s cuisine? Nothing too heavy.” Gabrielle nodded, though she didn’t know how she would be able to eat anything, her stomach was tied in knots. She watched him converse with the waiter, taking the opportunity to study him up close. His skin was incredibly smooth and fine pored. He was not tanned, but his skin carried the dark undertones, as did most Eastern Europeans. His eyes were dark, with a slight tilt. Her gaze wandered down to his shoulders. Broad, they filled out the breadth of his silk T-shirt. His chest hinted at a body that would match the beauty of his face. Abruptly he turned back to face her and caught her staring. Gabrielle flushed but didn’t drop her gaze. Leaning back in his chair, he returned the favor. His black gaze traveled all of her that was visible above the table. When he continued to stare, she shifted in her seat uncomfortably. Her movement seemed to snap him out of his thoughts. It gave her a boost. It appeared he was as taken with her as she was with him. “I am Ivan Tepes.” “Gabrielle Murray.” She held out her hand, expecting a polite handshake. His hand engulfed hers. The contact caused a tingle to run up her arm and the butterflies once again began to flutter around her stomach. Shocked by her elemental response to him, she jerked her hand from his. Though the contact was broken, she could still feel his touch. A silence fell between them. Gabrielle felt awkward and unsure of herself, much like a schoolgirl on her first date. A gorgeous man sat before her, yet she could think of nothing to say. She was not used to this feeling of inadequacy. She’d never had many boyfriends, but that didn’t mean she didn’t know her way around a man. She’d dated … a lot … it was the fear of emotional hurt that kept her single and alone. The afternoon sun had begun its slow, gradual descent and now the umbrella no longer shielded them from its rays. A shaft of light fell across his face, and Gabrielle

watched him wince as it pierced his eyes. He stood immediately, reaching up to adjust the umbrella. Hands on the clasp, he looked down at her. “Do you mind?” “No, go ahead.” Her back was to the sun, so she knew it must be shining directly into his eyes. He immediately tilted the umbrella down, until they were once again in full shade. Sitting across from her, he flashed a smile, revealing straight, white teeth. If she had not been dazzled by his appearance before, she was then. His smile was beautiful, alleviating the slightly arrogant look he wore. Again a sense of recognition flared within her. “My eyes are sensitive to the sun.” “The afternoon can be harsh.” Many times she had burned while out in the afternoon. “You have no idea.” There was a note in his voice she could not quite identify. “Ah. Here comes the waiter.” His low-pitched voice was as appealing as his appearance. The waiter placed a tray on their table, gave a slight bow to Ivan and left. “This is papanasi, cottage cheese donuts topped with sour cream and fruit.” He pointed out one of the treats. Gabrielle’s eyes followed the motion. His hand was lean, long-fingered, and well-manicured. She wondered if maybe he was an artist or something that required a fine dexterity of the hands. “And this is clatite cu branza, crepes filled with cottage cheese, raisins and various spices.” His voice was mesmerizing; Gabrielle listened to the sound of his voice much more than the actual words. His accent was much more evident as he named the various Romanian desserts. “And this is one of my favorites, cozonac.” When he looked up and flashed her a smile, Gabrielle felt her heart skip a beat. “It is a sweet bread filled with walnuts, poppy seeds and cream cheese.” The next few minutes they discussed the various treats he had ordered. Slowly, Gabrielle lost her stiffness. The conversation turned to the country and city in general. Her new companion turned out to be a wealth of information. He was charming and entertaining. He was the perfect gentleman. Too perfect. Staring down at her now empty plate she contemplated his platonic behavior and began to wonder if the attraction she felt had been one-sided. Was he simply showing a lonely tourist some attention? Filling in an otherwise empty afternoon? Had she imagined the spark and sizzle when their hands met? The thought that the attraction was one-sided, stung. She wanted him to feel the same intense fascination she did. Glancing up, she caught him unawares and his heated expression laid her doubts to rest. His glance skimmed over her breasts in frank approval before zeroing in on her mouth. She licked her lips nervously and watched as his eyes narrowed in response. When he met her gaze, she read the carnal intent reflected in his face. Her heart kicked up a notch and a thrill shot through her, an answering flame to the fire burning in his eyes. No, she hadn’t imagined the attraction. It was mutual. The air around them thickened with sexual tension, and Gabrielle felt her nipples tighten and a warm pulse between her thighs in response to the sensual promise in his stare. It was all she could do not to squirm on her seat. She would have to be very careful around this man or she was going to end up in his bed. Would that be so bad? a voice whispered in the back of her mind. You’re attracted to him, he’s attracted to you. It’s been so long. “Would you like a tour guide?” She could hear the suggestion in his voice. “Someone to escort you around town.”

“Is he experienced?” Gabrielle met his stare dead on, a brow raised in question. “Very.” His voice had lowered to a rumble. The timbre vibrated in her ears and echoed in her chest. “Hmm. Sounds interesting. Can you guarantee his performance?” She couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. This type of sexual banter was not something in which she normally participated, at least not with a stranger. Yet he didn’t feel like a stranger, it was as if some primal part of her had recognized its counterpart. Ivan leaned forward. “Personally.” There was a wealth of confidence in his tone. Butterflies of nerves and excitement fluttered in her stomach. The conversation had rapidly gone from bland and polite to sexual, and was definitely straying into dangerous territory. She was getting in over her head, and her mouth was going to get her in trouble. Her unease must have shown on her face. Sitting back in his chair, he gave her the physical and mental space she needed. “I would be delighted to accompany you on a walking tour of the town.” Relief flooded through her, he was backing off, returning to polite chit-chat. Perversely, at the same time she wished he had pushed her. His offer was non-threatening. A walking tour was something she was more than willing to accept. She would be able to spend more time with him, yet still be in public and maintain her sense of security. Intellect was battling the instinctive and physical. The desire to be with him, to learn more about him, won. “Okay. I’d like that.” “Good.” There was a wealth of satisfaction in his voice. “Shall we begin?” Gabrielle nodded. Within a blink of an eye, he was beside her, pulling her chair out. Taking her hand, he helped her to her feet. Placing a hand at the small of her back, he guided her through the tables toward the exit. The feel of his palm on her lower back excited her, made her tingle with excitement. Like an invisible force-field, she felt him walking behind her. She made it out of the restaurant without tripping over her own feet, but it wasn’t because she had paid attention to where she was walking. It had been pure luck, because all she had been aware of was the incredibly handsome man walking behind her. Her plans were shot. She would get no shopping done today. Incredibly, shopping fell below spending time with Ivan. Shopping? She would shop tomorrow. She could shop any day, anywhere. She could not say the same thing about spending the day with a gorgeous man with a delightful accent and charming manner. No, he won hands-down. She had come here to escape and he was offering her a wonderful avenue of distraction. “Ready?” They were standing out on the sidewalk. Tilting her head back, she smiled up at him. He was quite a bit taller than her, something that had not been apparent while they were seated. Standing, her head barely reached his shoulder. “Yes.” “Let’s begin with a stroll around the medieval section of town. Black Church, Old Town Hall Square, Brasov Fortress, and the Franciscan Monastery are all located there.” “Will we have time to see all of them?” It sounded like a lot to do, but Gabrielle wasn’t going to complain. The more to see, the more time she had to spend with him. “Hopefully.” He looked down at her and raised a brow. “If not, we will have to continue tomorrow. Yes?” “Definitely.” She couldn’t agree more.

“Good.” There was a wealth of satisfaction in his tone. Ivan held out his arm and Gabrielle placed her hand in the crook of it. It was a gentlemanly gesture. One she appreciated. It gave her casual, but constant contact with him, an opportunity to walk close to him and appease her need to touch him. An opportunity she wasn’t going to pass up.

Chapter Six Ivan sat in the hotel lobby waiting for Gabrielle to come down. He’d arrived a few minutes ago and called her room. Gabrielle had invited him up, and for a moment he’d been tempted. But in the end he’d declined. With his heightened senses, he had easily detected her interest in him yesterday. He had heard it in her accelerated heartbeat, seen it in the pulse pounding at her neck. Had he pursued that avenue, he would have been able to seduce her yesterday. But an easy conquest was not his ultimate goal. He wanted far more than one night. How or why he knew this he didn’t know. He only knew he wanted Gabrielle with a ferocity and determination that he had never felt before. It had all started so easy. This last month he had watched her, observing her with others, alone, looking for signs that she was changing. At first he had doubted that there was a blood connection between them. Believed that he might be free of her and she of him. It had not taken long for him to dispel that hope. Within days he was drawn to her side, unable to forget her scent or taste. He trailed her every step like a wraith. When he first noticed the changes in her diet and her sleep patterns, excitement welled up within him. When she answered his summons last night, he knew. His second taste of her had sealed their fate. His. She was his. Unfortunately, last night she had run from him, her fear overcoming her desire. After fainting in his arms, he’d put her to bed and wiped her memory of the night. But the night had not been a total loss. He learned from his mistakes. He’d not rush her again, rather he’d seduce her. There was a slight ding as the elevator doors slid open and Gabrielle stepped out of the car. Dressed in a cotton skirt and shirt, she was casual but stylish. She exuded confidence and sex appeal. As he was seated across the lobby, she did not see him. Ivan took the opportunity to study her. Her legs, bare of stockings, were long and slender. Legs that would soon be wrapped around his neck when he tasted the sweetness of her desire, and around his waist when he buried his cock into her pussy. Her build was long and lean, and her hips had a slight swell before dipping into a trim waist. Perfect for gripping when he took her from behind. He noted her hair was down and free about her shoulders. Long silken curls that he itched to bury his hands into as she took him into her mouth. Ivan felt his cock, already at half-mast, lengthen to a full erection. Getting to his feet, he intercepted her as she headed to the front lobby. Already aroused and territorial, there was no need to incite his predatory instincts, and if any male happened to approach her, his instincts would definitely be stirred. Silently, swiftly, he came up behind her. When he grasped her elbow, he felt her jerk slightly, startled. His grip tightened reflexively, the hunter holding its prey. “Ivan!” He could hear her surprised pleasure and see it in her eyes. So open, so trusting. He wondered what her expression would be when he told her who and what he was, what he had done to her. Would she still be happy to see him then? Somehow, he didn’t think so. With that thought came another. Take her now. Claim her now. Remove any possibility of rejection. Stepping closer, he inhaled her scent, the scent of woman, of mate. A flare of recognition flashed in her eyes. Whether or not she knew

it, her body recognized and accepted him. Satisfaction flooded him, tamed the need to possess. “Ivan?” He could hear her confusion. Ivan forced his grip on her elbow to lighten and the muscles of his face to relax. He pulled his lips up into a small smile, and concentrated on not revealing his incisors. It was not time for show and tell. Not yet. “Gabrielle.” Leaning in, he kissed her cheek. The contact was electric, zapping them both. She pulled back the same time he did until a foot separated them. They stared into each other’s eyes, sexual awareness heavy between them. An acknowledgement of where they were headed. “Are you ready? Have you eaten?” The questions brought them back to the mundane, the ordinary. Otherwise he was going to escort her back up to her room. Gabrielle gave a slight jerk of her head, as if snapping back to attention, and a slight flush raced up her throat. “Yes, I had something delivered to my room this morning. I’m ready to go when you are.” That was what she thought. She wasn’t ready yet. But she was getting there. Soon. He would have her soon. This delicate game of courtship was wearing thin on him. “Good. We have quite a bit of driving to do today.” Placing his hand on the small of her back, he guided her through the lobby to the front doors. He felt the shifting movement as her hips swung in the rhythm of her walk. Her long hair barely touched the back of his hand as it swayed against her back. The silken mass teased him with the promise of what it would feel like against his body. Removing his hand from temptation, Ivan stepped forward to hold the door open. “What do you have planned for us today?” Stepping through the doors, she looked over her shoulder at Ivan. “I thought we would visit several of the historical sites in the surrounding area.” “That sounds fun.” “Then let’s get started.” He swept his hand in the direction of his car, a large silver sedan, an S-class Mercedes. “I see you like to ride in comfort.” Gabrielle’s voice was dry. Gabrielle had no idea how true that statement was. Long ago, Ivan had developed a taste for comfort, a taste that his time imprisoned by her stepfather only enhanced. The thought of Roderick caused him to scowl darkly. “Yes I do. When you have lived as long as I have, you learn to appreciate the comforts in life.” “Hey, it’s okay. I didn’t mean anything by it.” Her obvious concern wiped the frown from Ivan’s face, and he offered a small smile. “I know. It was not you, just a bad thought. It’s gone.” Stepping forward, Gabrielle lightly touched his cheek with her hand. “No bad thoughts today.” The touch burnt his cheek and loosened the tight fist around his heart. It was the first touch of warmth and kindness he’d had in a long time. Taking her hand in his, he brought it to his mouth and placed a small kiss inside her palm. “As you wish.” Gabrielle’s hand trembled. He could hear the hitch in her breathing. It was best they started. Letting go of her hand, he strode over to the car and opened the door for her. As she slid in, she flashed a smile up at him. He smiled back and snapped the door shut. As he drove them through town, there was little conversation. She seemed content to watch

the scenery as he navigated the hectic city traffic. “So do you have a plan of attack?” Gabrielle turned in her seat to face him. They were a few miles out and the traffic had cleared considerably. Yes he did, but it had nothing to do with sightseeing and everything to do with claiming her and marking her as his. “Yes. I thought we could start with Bran Castle. If there is time we’ll stop by Sinaia to visit Peles Castle and Pelisor Castle. If not, we can do so another day.” He could drag out this sightseeing expedition until he had accomplished what he set out to do, earn her trust and her passion. Possess her body and bind her to him. “That’s a deal.” Her ready agreement filled him with satisfaction. “So, tell me about Bran Castle.” “Bran Castle was built by the Knights of Teutonic Order in 1212. Used as a defense against invading Turks in 1378. Then it became a customs post before eventually becoming a royal residence. Today, it is a historic site and museum. A very popular tourist attraction.” “Bet it’s beautiful.” Ivan noted the dreamy look in her eyes. “No. It is very utilitarian. Peles Castle is far more beautiful.” “Really? Then what’s the attraction?” Here was his opening to introduce the topic of vampyres. This was where he could start building a foundation for when he would have to confess the truth. “Bran Castle is known as Dracula’s Castle. Bram Stoker supposedly connected his bloodthirsty vampyre to the Bran Castle. The castle belonged to Mircea the Wise, grandfather of Vlad the Impaler. Or, according to Bram Stoker, Dracula.” Gabrielle squirmed in her seat to completely face him and Ivan took his eyes off the road long enough to look at her. It appeared he had her complete attention now. “Dracula! I was reading that a while back. I didn’t finish, I ended up scaring myself silly.” “You are afraid of vampyres?” Ivan kept his voice neutral. “Well, the old ones. They’re kinda scary and evil. You know. But the young ones, now they’re hot!” Hmm, he’d show her hot. “Then why did you pick that type of book to read?” He knew the answer. Sometimes fear was arousing. Gabrielle paused to think. “I don’t know. The fantasy of it. Vampyres are supposed to be these incredibly sensual, sexy men. Strong, masterful. The ultimate erotic lover. Alpha male to the max. The ultimate in bad boy tamed by the love of one woman. Plus he offers eternal life. What more could a girl ask for?” She broke off, a flush creeping up her neck. Ivan shifted in his seat. Aroused and intrigued by her description. “So you find Bram Stoker erotic?” “No! He was a creepy old geezer. Which is exactly why I didn’t finish it. I was thinking along the lines of the newer vampyre romances.” “Vampyre romances?” He was stunned, the concept foreign to him. “Yeah.” Gabrielle grinned at him. “But it’s all fantasy. “In reality, if some guy wants to bite my neck and suck my blood, I wouldn’t find that a turn-on.” “Hmmm.” Ivan didn’t say much. He was tempted to pull the car over and show her

just how much she would like for him to bite her neck and suck her blood. She’d be climaxing within seconds. “So, Bran Castle is supposed to be Dracula’s home?” “Yes, and there are many ‘Dracula Tours’ throughout Romania. There is the 14th century town of Sighisoara, Vlad's birthplace. Then there’s the Snagov Monastery, where Vlad is said to have been buried after his assassination. The Poenari fortress, Curtea Domneasca, his palace in Bucharest, the village of Arefu, the city of Brasov…” Ivan trailed off. “Wow! So Dracula is good for the local economy, huh?” “Oh yes. Some tours cover the fictional aspects of Dracula. Tourists can eat the meal Jonathan Harker ate at The Golden Crown in Bistrita and spend the night at Castle Dracula Hotel on the Borgo Pass, made famous by Mr. Stoker.” “Tell me about him, the real one not the fake one.” Ivan wondered what she would say if he told her there wasn’t a “fake” one. Yet he refrained, that would come all too soon. “Vlad’s father was the prince of Wallachia and a member of a secret society called the Order of the Dragon. Since the dragon was associated with the Devil, Vlad’s father was called ‘Dracul,’ which in Romanian means ‘devil’ and Vlad became ‘Dracula,’ which means ‘son of the Devil,’” Ivan paused to see how she would react to the name. Seeing he had her interest, he continued. “Dracul sent his two youngest sons to the Turks as political hostages to prevent war. The boys stayed there until the assassination of their father and older brother. At that point, the Turks helped Vlad regain the throne and become the ruler of Wallachia in 1456. It was then that Vlad began to show his aptitude for cruelty. A skill some said he learned from the Turks.” “How?” Gabrielle asked. Ivan had her complete attention. “His first act was against the boyars of Tirgoviste. He invited them to a feast on Easter Sunday. After the banquet he arrested all of them and impaled the older ones while the younger ones were forced to watch. The survivors were marched fifty miles to the town of Poenari where they were ordered to build a fortress. There many more died. Today the site is known as Poenari Fortress and part of the Dracula Tour.” “That is so horrible!” Ivan briefly debated telling her any more. Then decided to go on. If she didn’t know already, she would eventually. “That was just the beginning. He impaled criminals and enemies, and would place them in the town square for all to see. Almost any crime could be punished by impalement. It was very effective. To prove this, he placed a golden cup in the central square of Tirgoviste. This cup could be used by travelers in need of water, but had to remain on the square. During his reign, the cup was never stolen.” “No wonder. Yuck!” She didn’t know the half of it. Rather than go on with the numerous cruelties of his ancestor, Ivan cut to the end of Vlad’s rule. “Eventually Vlad and the Turks went to war with one another and the sultan launched a full-scale invasion of Wallachia. Outnumbered, Vlad was forced to retreat. Along the way he burnt his own villages and poisoned the wells, but that did not stop the Turks.” He couldn’t resist telling her about the forest. “It was Vlad’s forest that stopped them.” “His forest?” Her tone was incredulous. Ivan nodded. “When the sultan finally reached the capital city he was met by the

Forest of the Impaled.” He paused for dramatic effect. Gabrielle stared at him, eyes wide. “Vlad had impaled all of his Turkish captives, thousands of captives and left them for the sultan to find. The sultan was revolted by such evilness and withdrew his army.” “That’s horrible. He’s worse than a vampyre!” Ivan nodded and had to refrain from mentioning that during his reign of terror Vlad had indeed become a vampyre. That little bit could wait until after she had lost her fear of the vampyre, him in particular. “Anyway, after his retreat the sultan supported Vlad's younger brother Radu in his attempt to seize the throne. Radu chased his brother to Poenari Castle.” “Is Romania full of castles?” Ivan chuckled and flashed her a smile. “Yes, and I will take you to every one your heart desires to see.” “I might take you up on that. So tell me about Poenari Castle.” “It was at this castle Dracula's wife, in order to escape capture, threw herself from the upper battlements into the river below. Vlad managed to escape by using a secret passage into the mountain. He was soon imprisoned and decapitated, and that was the end of Vlad the Impaler.” Not really, but it made for a good story in the history books. In reality, Vlad had been captured by Radu and had agreed to live as a “count” rather than die as a prince. It was then he had taken his name “son of the devil” literally and had become the creature, the monster, Bram Stoker had described. He had died at the hands of Mina and Jonathan Harker. But before his death he had spread his curse, his taint in Mina’s womb. From Mina, the curse had spread to her children, twins she’d named Roderick and Madalina. Sadly, Mina had not been able to conceive again and Jonathan Harker had grown to hate the half-blood vampyre children. Gabrielle wasn’t ready for that part of his family history. Silence fell between them again as each contemplated the story Ivan had told. It was broken by Gabrielle’s gasp when Bran Castle came into view. “Ivan! It’s fantastic.” She leaned forward eagerly, her eyes soaking up the scenery before them. “I’m glad you like it.” He spoke the truth. He was proud of his country and all it had to offer. “Now that I have horrified you with one of our most infamous historical figures, let me awe you with our architecture.”

Chapter Seven Gabrielle was falling in love. With Romania. The green, lush countryside. The history and mystique of the ancient cities and castles. But most of all she was falling in love with her tour guide. She had been intrigued the first date, infatuated the second, in love by the third. Even though it had been a week, it felt like she had known him forever. It was as if she had instinctively recognized him. Ivan was everything she had ever dreamed of in a man. Sexy, attentive, and well educated. “Brasov is incredible. Thank you for showing me around.” Today they’d stayed in town, taking a leisurely walking tour of the town, revisiting some of the sites he had shown her the first day. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.” Ivan smiled down at her and Gabrielle’s heart tripped. The sound of his deep voice sent small electric shivers through her body. The touch of his hand caused butterflies in her stomach. Looking into his dark eyes made her want to melt into a puddle at his feet. “What was your favorite?” All of it. Being with you. Looking into your eyes as you shared the history of your country, your city. Standing beside you, smelling your cologne, feeling your body heat. Knowing she couldn’t say what was on her mind, she settled for picking a landmark. “The Black Church.” The structure was not as large or as grandiose as many of the other churches she had visited. The outside had been plain, the inside too. But the music. Within those old walls rested a four thousand pipe organ. Fortunately, they’d arrived minutes before the playing began. With his hand at the small of her back, Ivan had guided her toward a pew and they sat and listened to the music. The music, the place. Gabrielle had been moved and inspired like never before. Afterward they had both been silent. Now they were headed back to her hotel. Gabrielle couldn’t help but wonder if this time would end differently. “Ah. I love the church as well.” Again, silence reigned between them. It was a comfortable silence. They walked together, holding hands. Aro Palace was just ahead. There was a tug on her hand. Ivan had stopped walking. She turned to look at him. “Listen.” “What?” She glanced around. He put his finger against his lips. “Shh. Be quiet and listen.” Nothing. She could hear nothing but traffic and the busy activity of the town around them. “I don’t hear anything.” “This way.” Tugging her hand, he turned to move down a narrow alley. “Ivan, I don’t hear anything unusual.” Out of sight of the street, he crowded her against the old brick wall. “What—” His lips cut her off. A second later she forgot what she was going to say anyway. This was what she had been wanting all week. His tongue slid along her lips, and she parted them in invitation. He slipped in. Tasting, exploring. Purring, Gabrielle looped her arms around his neck. The man was an expert kisser. The slow glide of his tongue along her own. The gentle exploration of her mouth. The nibbling of her lower lip. She was trapped between the hard press of his body and the equally hard surface of the wall. Right where she wanted to be. Wanting to be even closer, Gabrielle entwined

one of her legs with his. Pulling him into the vee between her legs. Ivan accepted her silent invitation, stepping into her, pressing his pelvis against hers. Yes. The feel of him. The long length of his erection pressing into her. She felt like a woman dying of thirst who had just been offered a sip of water. More, she needed more. She shifted her hips, she rubbed against him. Growling, Ivan slid his hands along her sides and grabbed the cheeks of her ass. Gripping the globes tightly in his hands, he arched her into him. Gabrielle moaned softly. There was an ache between her legs. The muscles of her pussy clenched, empty, in need of being filled. She tore her lips from his. “Oh, Ivan.” Knowing exactly what she needed, he started a rhythmic thrust against her. A sensual bump and grind. He caught her lips with his again. The kiss was ravenous, mimicking the thrust of his hips. The heat of their passion was burning her alive. The friction between their moving bodies pushing her toward climax. Gabrielle shuddered. Close, She was so close to coming. She arched her hips to thrust up against him, pressing her clit into the steely length of his cock. The pressure was perfect, setting her off like a bottle rocket. Tearing her lips from his, she buried her face into the side of his neck. The orgasm ripped through her. Intense, powerful. It was all she could do not to cry out. She slumped against him, unable to stand without his aid. Her legs were rubber, her thoughts chaos. The sound of her breath sawing in and out of her lungs the only sound she was aware of. Gradually she became aware of her environment. Ivan holding her, his hand stroking her hair, his voice, husky and deep, whispering into her ear. “Draga mea.” He placed a soft kiss on her temple. “Iubirea mea.” Her heart stopped pounding and she caught her breath. Wow. She’d been hoping for days that he would kiss her. And when he did… Wow. “You pulled me in here to steal a kiss?” “Yes.” Arrogance and satisfaction infused his voice. “And you like my kisses, eh?” A flush of embarrassment climbed up her throat. She’d come from his kisses alone. She felt the light brush of his lips against her temple. “Let’s get you inside.” She let him guide her out of the alley and into the hotel. His hand was a hot brand on the small of her back. Anticipation and anxiety warred within her, causing butterflies in her stomach. This was it. He was going to walk her to her room and she was going to invite him in. The lobby was deserted, as was the elevator car. They rode up in silence. The sexual tension building, until Gabrielle was shaking with it. All too quickly they were standing at her door. Fingers trembling, she searched her bag for the key. She found it, only to drop it on the floor. Damn her nerves. Quickly picking up the key, she flashed Ivan a smile, and turned to unlock the door. With the soft snick of the door unlocking, Ivan put his hand over the top of hers, stopping her from opening the door. “Stimate, O noapte buna.” Kissing her cheek, he turned and strode down the hall. In shock, Gabrielle did nothing but stare after him in amazement and disbelief. He was walking away. He was fucking walking away. After the hottest kiss of her life. He was walking away! What an asshole. Goodnight, my dear one, he’d said. Gabrielle rolled her eyes. What the hell. A good night would have been him coming inside with her to finish what he’d started.

Whirling around, she stormed into her hotel room and slammed the door behind her. **** Sitting at a corner table in the hotel nightclub, Gabrielle nursed her second mixed drink. She didn’t care for the local brew, dark beer wasn’t much to her liking. On the other hand, a strong vodka drink hit the spot, and somehow a Bloody Mary seemed so appropriate. A couple of these would help ease her nerves and relax her. The music was loud, the beat strong, and the dance floor crowded with couples gyrating in explicit sexual ways to the heavy bass. Feeling the pull of the music, the need to be out there dancing with them, she scanned the room making eye contact, the universal sign that would signal males that it was okay to ask her to dance. That and the way she was dressed; hip-hugging, skin-tight black leather pants and a velvet halter top that cupped her breasts and pushed them up into prominence. Yet she didn’t really want to dance, at least not with any of the men here. The man she wanted to dance with had left her at the front of her hotel. Again. One day had turned into a week as they’d explored Romania’s historic sites. And that was all it had taken for her to fall in love. To grow addicted to the sight of him, the scent of him, the feel of him walking beside her. A week of walking around with wet panties and hardened nipples during the day, and nights of returning to her hotel, her pussy lips coated with cream, her nipples chafed from rubbing against her bra all day. A week of being left at the door with no more than a polite kiss on the cheek, and being forced to masturbate to relieve the sexual ache within her. But masturbating was a poor substitute, the relief brief and leaving her wanting for more. She didn’t want her own hand. She wanted Ivan’s. His hand, his lips, his cock. But tonight she had been determined not to sit in her room and moon over a man who was content to leave her at the doorstep. Her hotel offered many amenities, numbering among them was a nightclub and a casino. She decided to try both. Anything was better than sitting alone in her hotel room. She’d been alone for too long. Since before her mother had died. She was tired of being alone. A pair of eyes looked at her. They seemed to glow in the darkness, capture and mesmerize her with their intensity. Her heart stuttered and her chest tightened, making it difficult to breathe. The music, the smoke, the noise, seemed to disappear. It was as if they were the only two people in the room. As he drew near, his face came to her out of the darkness and sent shock waves through her. A name escaped her lips. Ivan. Stopping before her, he held out his hand. She could have read him the riot act, or played it cool. Instead, as if in a trance, Gabrielle placed her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet. The music seemed to fade into the background, becoming nothing but white noise. His face, his presence, was the center of her attention. His face, his deep dark eyes trapped her gaze, refusing to let it go. Out on the dance floor he spun her around and pulled her to him, chest to back. One hand on her lower stomach pressed her into him and began to guide her in a rhythmic thrust. In sync, they began to move. Sinuous, seductive, every roll of their hips was a promise, a prelude of what was to come. Pulling one of her arms up, he laid it across his shoulders and curled it around the back of his neck. He spread kisses down her neck and upper arm. The contact caused chills to race up and down her back. Her nipples tightened in

response, and she ground back against him, pushing against his erection. The hand on her stomach pushed her tighter into his embrace, holding her against him. The dance became more provocative, more sexual. Tilting her head, she gave him full access to her neck while she placed her hand over the one he held to her abdomen. With his free hand he stroked the side of her body, igniting a trail of fire along her nerve endings, before sliding it over her chest and cupping her breast. Gabrielle whimpered when his thumb brushed her hardened nipple. She could feel the moisture growing and pooling between her legs and her sex throbbed and ached. In response, she tightened her hand in the hair at the nape of his neck, much like a cat kneading with its claws. He was seducing her, making love to her on the dance floor. The music was drowned out by her heartbeat pounding in her ears. She relied on his hips to guide her in a rhythm as old as time. His hand slid lower until it was pressing against her pelvic bone, mere inches from where she wanted it. She felt her whole body shudder. She wanted, needed his hand lower, cupping her. For the life of her, she didn’t care that they were in the middle of the dance floor, didn’t care that they had witnesses. She wanted relief from the fire he had set in her blood, in her loins. She was going to come without him touching her clit. The hardened length of his cock rubbing against her, the thumb tormenting her nipples, and the electrified nerves of her neck would be enough. Then he gave her what she craved. While pinching her nipple and biting the corded muscle of her neck, he slid a hand between her legs. Her thighs immediately tightened, trapping him against the heat and moisture of her pussy. When he pressed his hand up and into her, she shuddered. Body trembling, a gasp escaped from between her lips. He spun her around to face him. Dazed, she looked up at him, her lids heavy, her vision unfocused. He was overwhelming her. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Her lips were stinging and felt swollen from her biting them. Swooping down, he locked his lips over hers, sweeping inside her mouth, tasting her, letting her taste him. He thrust a thigh between her legs, and continued to move to the music, using the dance to torment them both. “Please.” Her voice was ragged, husky. The dance wasn’t enough. She couldn’t get close enough to him. She wanted to feel him in her. “What do you want?” His voice was low and commanding. “You. I want you.” There was a fire in her blood. If she didn’t have this man inside her she would go insane. Her body was screaming for him, pussy aching for his thrust. She wanted to feel him buried deep inside. “Where do you want me?” “Inside me. I want you inside me.” The whispered statement ended in a gasp. He had pushed her down while thrusting his leg up. The bump and grind of his thigh against her clit took her breath away. Closing her eyes, she shuddered with desire. She had never felt so needy, so hungry, in her life. Ivan feathered his lips down her neck, then back up. Biting the lobe of her ear, he growled and the sound vibrated down into her ear, causing her to shiver and her nipples to constrict even tighter. Gabrielle tightened her hands on his shoulders. Had they been naked, he would have felt the full force of her nails digging into his back. She felt him pulling back, looking down into her face. Her eyes closed, lips parted in invitation, she waited for him to kiss her. Need beat against her. “You want to feel me buried inside you? Feel me pull and suck your nipples? Play

with your clit until you scream?” The words were low and guttural. Yes! His questions caused her pussy to flutter and her heart to skip a beat. Gabrielle opened her eyes to look into his. “Yes. I want you every way a woman can have a man.” Her voice was as guttural as his. “Then you will have me.”

Chapter Eight With her words, triumph flared inside him. That was all he needed. He had spent the last week in hell, every night hungering for the taste of her, the feel of her. He had to have a taste of her now. Leading her off the dance floor, the crowd seemed to separate before him, as if some unseen force were directing them to move. Instead of heading for the door, he headed to the back of the bar, down a darkened hallway. Not giving her time to protest, he pressed her up against a wall, and kissed her. It was a savage, hungry kiss, explicit in its intent. Just as quickly he tore his mouth away, and lifted his chest from hers. “Say my name.” He wanted her to admit she knew who she was letting into her bed, into her body. Even if she didn’t understand the significance, he did. Instead of answering, Gabrielle leaned forward trying to capture his lips with hers. He moved his head back, away from her searching lips. “Say my name.” Later, he would remind her she had asked for this, asked for him. When she couldn’t capture his lips, she settled for his neck. Licking, nibbling up and down his throat, she made no effort to answer him. Wanting, needing to hear her acknowledge him, Ivan threaded his fingers in the hair at the back of her head. Fisting his hand, he pulled her head back until her neck arched. She opened her eyes, and gazed up at him. “Say my name. Who are you inviting into your body? Into your soul?” He forced the words out through gritted teeth. “Ivan. Ivan Tepes.” Like the nocturnal predator he was, he growled in victory. Pushing past his level of patience, he stepped closer, pressing heavily into her, trapping her against the wall, and swooped down to cover her lips with his. Thrusting his tongue into her mouth in an erotic imitation of sex, he worked his hands into her top to cup her breasts. Her skin felt like hot silk, her heartbeat like a wild drum against his palm. Gabrielle caught her breath when his hands made contact with her skin. That was the only encouragement he needed. Pulling both breasts from the confinement of the velvet, he swooped down and locked onto a nipple. Instead of suckling, he bit down, trapping the pebbled tip between his teeth. It was all he could do not to break the skin and truly taste her. Without warning, without any other stimulation, Gabrielle climaxed. Her nails dug into his scalp, holding him there as she shuddered and trembled. Licking her nipple, soothing the sting, Ivan straightened. Pulling her top up, he covered her breasts. He ached and throbbed with the need to bury himself in her body. The scent of her arousal was so strong he was almost overwhelmed with the need to fuck her right there against the wall. He could hear her heart pounding against her rib cage and the blood rushing through her veins. He wanted to taste her, to once again savor the sweetness of her. They needed to leave now, before he lost control. “Come with me.” He growled. He was close to fucking her there in the bar. She nodded. Rather than go back out onto the dance floor, holding her hand in his, he led her to the back entrance. Opening the door, he led her out into the darkness. He did not want to give her time to come down from her sexual high. Time to ask questions.

Tonight was about the seduction of the senses. His plan was simple, seduce and possess her body first, her mind and heart would follow. For the first time in a long time he was grateful of his enhanced abilities. Holding her close to him, Ivan moved with the speed of the vampyre, so fast it was but a blur, unseen by the human eye. Moments later, Ivan shut the door with a snap, the click of the latch echoing in the darkened room. He had brought her to his den, wanting her at his mercy. She had run from him in the garden. He had left her this afternoon, even though he could smell her desire. This time she would not escape, would not want to run from him. He could hear the drum of her heartbeat, slightly elevated with fear and excitement, and smell her arousal. She was still excited, but not as much as she had been in the club. Stepping forward, he caught the bottom of her velvet top and pulled it up. Her gasp was muffled by the shirt as it passed over her head. Dropping the top, he cupped both breasts in his hands before she could think to cover herself. The mounds were generous, filling his hands. The left one trembled in his palm with the force of her heartbeat. Renewed excitement had both nipples puckered, and he rubbed his thumbs across them, causing them to tighten even further. Her skin was porcelain white and soft as the down of a dove. Beautiful. Delicate. Delicious. Giving into temptation, he looped one arm around her waist and pulled her to him. The other hand he kept on her breast, cupping it for his mouth. He latched on, and Gabrielle whimpered. “Ivan.” Her small sound was all the encouragement he needed. Plastering her to him, he suckled voraciously. With one hand gripping her ass, he began to rock her against him, the motion grinding her mons to his penis, tormenting them both. His cock was hard and throbbing, eager to find the warm haven of her body. Releasing her nipple, he kissed his way up her chest until he was nibbling on her neck. Her pulse beat against his lips, tempting him, tantalizing him. He bit down, not using his incisors or breaking the skin. It was a love bite, a promise to himself that he would partake of every part of her. Gabrielle’s nails dug into his scalp and he could feel her tugging at his hair. Following her silent demand, he seized her lips with his. The kiss was a wild, frantic mating of the tongues. He plunged, curling his tongue around hers, licking the inside of her mouth. When he retreated Gabrielle followed, her tongue sliding into his mouth. Her actions intensified his hunger. Her hot little tongue pushing him to his limits. Threading her hands through his hair, she held him to her. Tasting him, sliding her tongue along the velvet of his, she coaxed him back into her mouth. When she began to suckle him, Ivan snapped. He would have her now. Without breaking the kiss, he walked her backward, herding her to the bed. When he could go no farther, he bore her down onto the bed. Hips wedged between her thighs, he pulled her up while thrusting down. A need, a yearning for more, shot through him. Gabrielle locked her legs around his waist, holding him to her. Ivan began thrusting against her, fucking her through their clothes, pushing her toward climax, and in the process pushing himself to the very limits of his control. Just when he thought he was going to come in his pants, Gabrielle stiffened and screamed out her release. Ivan pulled back to kneel between her thighs. She was beautiful in her climax. Head thrown back. Neck arched. Her face glowing from intense pleasure. “Dragostea mea, corpul meu te dore?te.” My love, my body yearns for you. Truer

words had never been spoken. He yearned for her with his entire being. Desired her above all. Working like mad, he unsnapped her pants and dragged the tight material down over her hips. Then he stood up to pull them down her thighs and completely off. A white, lacy thong covered her mound. “Am nevoie de tine.” He did need her. Would wither away and die without her. Growling in frustration, he simply tore the thong from her. She lay before him, breasts rising sharply with each intake of breath and her legs sprawled open. Her clit was wet and glistening, peeping through the black curls of her pubic hair. “Esti frumoasa.” She was beautiful. Reaching down, he ran his finger the length of her slit. Her juices coated his fingers. Gabrielle squirmed and opened her eyes to stare up at him. Keeping his eyes locked with hers, he unfastened his pants and pulled his cock free. Curving up toward his stomach, the head was shiny with pre-come. He watched Gabrielle lower her gaze and lick her lips. His cock jerked in reaction. In his mind he could feel her lips closing around him. Later. He would try out her talent at fellatio later. Now he wanted inside her. Needed to be inside her, pounding his way to release. Dropping down, he covered her body with his. Guiding the head of his penis to her, he rubbed himself up and down her slit, lubricating himself with her cream, luxuriating in the slick heat of her. Ivan groaned at the feel of her hot, slick cunt. Bracing one arm beside her head to keep most of his weight off her, he placed the head of his cock at her entrance and pressed inward. She was small and her flesh resisted the initial invasion; he had to increase the pressure before her flesh gave way. Once he’d breached her opening, he stopped pushing. It was going to be a tight fit. With that realization, it was all he could do not to come then and there. Staring down into her face, Ivan watched her eyes widen in realization. Keeping his eyes locked with hers, Ivan pressed forward. Forcing the walls of her vagina apart, he worked his penis inside her. Gabrielle wriggled her hips, and Ivan clamped a hand on her hip. Holding her still, he continued his invasion. Gabrielle whimpered in distress. “Shhh. Just relax. You can take it.” Ivan kept his voice low, soothing. “Please.” He could hear the anguish in her voice. Leaning down, he kissed her. Letting go of her hip, he slid a hand between them. Finding her clit with his thumb, he pressed down and rotated, seducing her into relaxing, into accepting the rest of him. He felt her vaginal muscles relax as the magic of his kiss and thumb aroused her. Gabrielle arched up into his hand, and in the process took the rest of him into her body. Ivan groaned as her muscles contracted, milking him in her efforts to adjust to his invasion. Continuing to kiss her, he didn’t try to move or push her any further. The slow, deep kisses soothed her and eased the tenseness of her muscles. He felt her body relax back into the bed and her nails were no longer digging into his shoulders, a sign she was ready for more. “Please.” This time it wasn’t a plea to stop. Pulling back a little way, he thrust in slowly. It was heaven. It was hell. The need to thrust deeply fought against the knowledge he had to be careful or risk hurting her. Arms braced on either side of her head, he stared down at her as he used abbreviated thrusts to prepare her for deeper ones. Sweat dripped from him onto her and his teeth

were clenched in his effort to hold back. He wanted to thrust in again and again. Slam into her until he couldn’t tell where she ended and he began. The tight heat of her body was pushing him closer and closer to losing control. Her hot channel gripped him tightly, her muscles contracting around him as she fought to adjust to his possession. Finally, Gabrielle began to rock up and match his rhythm. Control snapping, Ivan rose up on his knees, gripped her hips and pulled her up and into his thrust, then he began to thrust forward while pulling her to meet him. The room was silent except for the sounds of sex: the slap and squish of their bodies connecting, the slight creaking of the bed, and their breath heavy and rapid. Gabrielle began to thrash against him, her legs kicking out behind him. “Don’t fight it. Don’t fight me.” The command was muttered between clenched teeth. Rather than stopping, he tightened his grip on her and began to thrust harder. “I can’t.” It was a whimper. Gabrielle began twisting her hips, and in the process ground her clit harder against his pelvic bone. Her back arched and her head pressed down into the mattress, mouth open in a silent scream. The contractions of her orgasm sent Ivan over the edge. He slammed into her in rapid succession, in search of his own release. It didn’t take long. Holding her hard enough to leave bruises, he held himself deep inside her. His cock jerked with each spurt of his come. Finished, he could do nothing but collapse onto her, lungs heaving with his effort to breathe. He lay on top of her, his head next to hers on the pillow, his breath stirring the hair at her ear, until he could catch his breath. When he could move he rolled over onto his back. Pulling her to him, he curled an arm around her shoulders. Gabrielle’s head found a niche on his shoulder. Her hand rested against his chest. They lay there in silence. She was lying docilely in his arms. Inhaling deeply, the scent of sex filled his lungs. It was heavy in the air and clung to his skin. He felt his penis twitch and stir, the scent of her an erotic invitation. But he couldn’t indulge again, not without feeding first. How he had held back earlier he had no idea. He couldn’t risk it again. She wasn’t ready. Not yet. Her defenses, mental and physical, were down. She would be easy to compel into sleep. Then he could leave long enough to feed. Mentally he sent the suggestion of sleep. Gradually, he could feel the changes in her body, the slow movement of her chest, the relaxing of her body against his. A soft sigh escaped as sleep finally claimed her. **** Gabrielle awoke slowly, reluctantly. She felt so good. The best she had felt in weeks, months, forever. A hand cupped her breast, the thumb rubbing her nipple. A forefinger joined the thumb and pinched the erect nub. Sensation shot down from her breast, causing her thighs to clench. Arching back, she encountered a large, warm body spooning her from behind. An equally large, hard penis thrust up between her buttocks. Moaning, she didn’t open her eyes. Instead, she pushed firmly against the hips spooning hers and arched her back, trapping the cock between her thighs, so it rested against her sex. She began to thrust forward and backward, the movement slow and rhythmic, sliding the hardened length along the lips of her vagina. Moisture began to seep from her and she became slick with need. She could feel the broad head spread her lips and bump up against her clit. Breathing deeply, she exhaled heavily with each contact.

His hand left her breast to move up and push her hair from her neck. Lips trailed slow, gentle kisses along her neck and shoulder. The hand stroked down the side of her body and rested on her hip. She was pulled closer, the cock between her legs pressing more firmly into her slick folds. A whimper of need escaped from her. The slow thrust, the stroke against her clit was driving her crazy. It was enough to fire her blood and cause an ache in her loins, yet not enough to send her over the edge. It was a sensual torment. The slow push forward, with no relief in sight. Just when she was ready to scream, to fight for relief, he gave it to her. Releasing her hip, he slid his hand around and down, combing through the curls covering her mound. He parted her labia and found her clit, stroking the ridged button with his pointer and middle finger. Then his thrust increased, slipping between her soaking lips and ramming into her. Fire raced in her veins and settled in her loins. Gabrielle met each of his thrusts with one of her own. She could feel the climax building, the tensing of her muscles, the throbbing in her pussy. She was going to come. So close. So close. Locking her jaw, her whole body shook and jerked as an orgasm ripped through her. “Ivan!” It was a gasp, a plea. Hard hands flipped her over onto her back. Eyes closed, Gabrielle tried to calm her pounding heart and steady her breathing as her lungs worked overtime pulling in air. Her legs were parted and spread wide, and she felt the bed dip and sway as he settled between them. Gradually, Gabrielle felt herself calm. Opening her eyes, she found Ivan looming above her. The room was dark and only his shadowed outline was visible. And his eyes. His eyes seemed to glow in the dark, much like a night predator. Gabrielle felt her heart stutter with trepidation. What did she know about this man? She had met him only a week ago, yet she was trusting him with her body. With her heart. He must have read some of her doubts in her face, because he leaned over until they were nose to nose. His every exhalation her inhalation. “No. You will not retreat from me. From this. I will not let you.” It was both a threat and a promise muttered in a harsh whisper. Clasping each side of her head, he held her still for his kiss. It was ravenous, a wild mating of tongues. Thought fled in the onslaught of desire. When he made to pull back, she followed, cupping the back of his head and holding him to her. Tearing his lips away from hers, he ignored her sharp cry of dismay. Hot kisses were strewn down her neck and across her chest. Cupping her breasts with his hands, he plumped them. Held them up for his kisses. Locking onto one, he suckled strongly, his tongue pushing the peak up against the roof of his mouth. He pulled on the tip forcefully while manipulating the other with his fingers. There was a corresponding throb in her loins and Gabrielle knew she was going to come again. There was a slight popping noise as he pulled back and released her nipple. Hands still buried in the hair at the nape of his neck, she tried to hold him to her. She wasn’t ready for him to stop. She had been riding the crest of another orgasm. Rather than capturing her other nipple, Ivan began licking his way down her sternum to her belly button. His tongue was like warm, wet velvet. Gabrielle’s skin tingled and burned. When his tongue dipped into her belly button, she thrust up and wrapped her legs around his chest. She ground against him, smearing her cream along his chest, the pressure increasing the ache rather than easing it.

When he began kissing his way further down, Gabrielle tightened her hands in his hair and her whole body tensed. She knew where he was headed, what he planned on doing. She wanted it, but knew she’d never survive the experience. She’d die of a heart attack. He took his time, causing her to pant with anticipation, squirm with need. Feeling his breath against her mound, Gabrielle stilled, holding her breath, waiting for his kiss. The first pass of his tongue was a light exploration. So were the second and the third. Excited, frustrated, she could feel moisture seeping from her. He parted her labia with his thumbs and she felt him breathe against her clit. A moan escaped her. Then his tongue was back, stroking the exposed nub and she clenched her thighs about his head. Rough hands grasped her inner thighs and pulled them apart. The next foray was not gentle. Swooping down, he pulled her clit into his mouth and suckled. Gabrielle dug her heels into the bed and pushed up against his mouth. He pulled strongly on her, in time with the throbbing between her legs. Throwing her head back, Gabrielle screamed as another climax ripped through her. Eyes closed, Gabrielle collapsed back into the bed, shudders racking her body. She could feel him moving over her, hear his ragged breath in her ears. She was just too tired to open her eyes and look at him. She was too tired to do anything but lie there and let him do what he wanted. Her legs were pulled up and over his shoulders. When he leaned forward her knees were almost level with her ears. The thick head of his penis probed at her entrance. She was slightly sore from the first time and there was a slow burn as he pushed his way in. Tensing, she prepared for a deep thrust, a thrust that didn’t come. “Look at me.” The command was low, guttural and brooked no disobedience. Gabrielle opened her eyes to stare into the face above hers. Ivan’s face was tight with need, the look in his eyes almost feral. She should have been scared, yet the air of wildness, the uncontrollability about him thrilled her, excited her, made her want him to thrust into her, to fuck her. “Do you want this?” He pushed in a little further. “Yes.” She wanted him now. In this position with her knees at her ears she couldn’t move, he had all the power. “Do you want me?” “Yes!” If he didn’t fuck her she was going to scream. He slammed inside and she did scream. It hurt. It felt good. She was so full of him she couldn’t tell if she wanted him to stop or do it again. He did it again. And again. And again. Fast and furious. Unable to move, she lay there as he rammed inside, pushing her closer and closer to orgasm. There was a ringing in her ears, her vision darkened until she could see only his face. The feelings intensified until she came, and she screamed again, long and loud. Incredibly, his pace quickened as he pushed toward his own release. Her body jarred with the violence of each thrust. One. Two. Three. He froze above her, body stiff, head thrown back. Gabrielle stared up at him in wonder, watching his face contort in the throes of his own climax. Then he looked down at her and smiled, and she felt her heart slam into her chest. His lips were pulled back in triumph exposing his teeth, revealing fangs. Before she could react he fell forward, burying his face in her hair. There was a sharp piercing pain as his teeth sank into her flesh. Incredibly, she climaxed again. The pull on her neck matching the pulse in her loins. This time, when her vision darkened she didn’t see anything.

Chapter Nine Gabrielle’s eyes snapped open. She was awake immediately, fully alert. Lifting her head, she looked around the room. Nothing was familiar. Then again, the way she had spent the night, she would have been amazed if she could have recognized anything in the room. The only thing she had an up close and personal encounter with had been the bed. The room was not as dark as it had been, there was a dim, faint light. Her internal clock told her she had slept for a long time and that it was daytime. That would account for her being able to see now. Shifting about, she noted the twinge in her muscles. She was sore and still sticky between her thighs. For the first time she understood the meaning behind the phrase being rode hard and put up wet. Carefully, she rolled over to study the man lying beside her. He was sprawled out, his limbs outstretched, taking up most of the bed. A white sheet was his only cover, and that was a minute cover. Draped over his pelvis, it left everything else bare. Everything else was quite a sight too: broad shoulders and chest, long muscled limbs with minimal body hair. His hair was loose and in disarray about his head. It was the first time she’d seen his hair down. Hell it was the first time she’d seen him naked. His face was a study of angles and planes, with high, flat cheekbones and a squared jaw line. His nose was straight and narrow, slightly on the long side. His lips were narrow without being thinlipped, the lower one somewhat fuller. Incredibly talented, soft to the touch, those lips had made her scream with pleasure last night. Without a doubt he was the most beautiful man she’d ever slept with. In fact, in repose he was almost too perfect. With his looks, his charm and sex appeal, he had overwhelmed her. No, that was not the truth. She wished she could lay the blame completely on him and his good looks, but she couldn’t. In the beginning, maybe, but by the time they had reached his house she’d known what she was doing, had wanted it with every fiber of her being. Her sense of knowing him, of being safe with him, had let her continue, had let her have one of the most incredible nights of her life. She shivered at the memory of the things he had done, the things she had felt, the things he had made her say. He looked so damn familiar. Damn it! She knew him, knew him in her bones, in her soul. It was as if she had secretly dreamed of him for years and had created him from those dreams. This perfect specimen. Beautiful enough to be a statue. Still enough too. Other aspects about his physique came to her attention. Like his chest. It wasn’t rising and falling with the deep breaths of sleep. No small sounds of inhalation or exhalation escaped from his mouth. Alarmed, she put a hand to his chest. She felt none of the warmth radiating from him that she had felt last night. He was like a statue, cold and still as marble. There was the faintest of heartbeats, telling her she had not wakened beside a dead man. Yet something about his sleep disturbed her. Something occurred to her. A memory, a hazy picture of him looming over her. Unconsciously she rubbed her neck, wincing when she touched a tender spot. Biting her lip, she studied his face again, zeroing in on his lips. Hesitantly, with a shaky hand she touched his lower lip. It was soft as velvet. Licking her lips, she swallowed nervously. Did she really think she was going to see anything out of the ordinary? Did she really want to know? She struggled with herself, with the faint half-forgotten memory. Locking

her jaw, she decided she needed to do this. Needed to prove that there was nothing wrong. Carefully, gently, she pushed down his lower lip. Nothing. She let out a breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding. See. It was a dream, the result of living in Eastern Europe, in the land of folklore and legends. Vampyre folklore and legend. Slowly, she lifted his upper lip. Her heart stopped, then began pounding forcefully against her rib cage. There was a rushing in her ears. She felt her eyes widen in horror as she stared at his teeth. Startling white, perfectly straight, only one thing kept them from being an orthodontist’s wet dream. His incisors. His long, sharp, bloodsucking incisors! Jerking her hand back, she covered her mouth. His lip snapped back into place with a slight pop. She had to get out of here. Now! She had to leave, go. He’d bitten her. What if she… No. No, she wasn’t ready to think about that. She just needed to leave. Without thinking she jumped from the bed, causing the bed to shift and rock. Freezing, she waited for him to wake up. Seconds passed. Nothing. He didn’t move. Dead to the world. Gabrielle had to fight back the urge to laugh hysterically. Jerking into action, she hurriedly collected her clothing. Dress. She needed to get dressed. She ran to the door and stopped, hand on the knob. She looked back over her shoulder. Ivan still hadn’t moved. A quick decision. Get dressed then run. She really didn’t need to run out of his house buck naked. If he did show signs of waking, she was standing at the door, she could just run out and lock him in. Moments later, she ran down the stairs and out the door. Standing outside his front door, she let out a sigh of relief. In town. He lived in town. If he’d taken her out of town she didn’t know what she would have done. Running a hand through her hair, she calmed herself. Free, she was free. No need to panic. Walking down the steps, she let herself out the front gate. Calmly, so as not to call attention to herself, she headed down the sidewalk. Not sure where she was, she decided to ask for directions at the nearest shop. Once back at the hotel, she immediately went to take a shower. She needed to wash away Ivan’s smell. It was as if in some primal way he had marked her with his scent. Stripping her clothes off, she studied herself in the mirror. There were visible signs of his possession as well. Faint bruises along her hips testified to the strength of his grip and the extent she had been carried away, for she had not felt them. Her nipples were reddened and slightly chapped, further testimony of his passion. Pulling her hair back from her neck, she leaned forward to examine her neck. Other than a small bruise, there was no sign of his bite. No puncture wounds—nothing. Stepping into the shower, she washed away his scent and the semen from between her legs. But she hadn’t been able to wash away the memory. Nor had she been able to wash away her longing for him. Even knowing what he was, she wanted him. Longed to go to him. That had scared her. Scared her to the point she had decided to run, to leave the country before she did go to him. Stepping out of the shower, she quickly dressed and packed. Looking out the window, she noted the sun was sinking behind the horizon. It would be dark soon. She needed to get on the road. Ivan would be waking soon. He would come looking for her. It would serve her well to have as much distance between them as possible. ****

Ivan sat up, awake and aware of everything around him. Without looking he knew she was gone, the house was empty. “Futai!” Fuck! Just as in the garden, she had run. From him. Again. When he caught her, and he would catch her, she wouldn’t run again. She wouldn’t want to run again. Obviously last night had not served its purpose. If it had, she’d still be here, with him. Sighing, he rose from the bed and stretched his arms up over his head, his muscles straining. Lowering his arms, he became aware that his shoulders were stinging. Turning his head, he looked back and noted the scratch marks. A smile kicked up one corner of his mouth. As far as he was concerned, those scratches were stripes of proof. Proof that he had pushed Gabrielle as far as she could go, that she had loved every minute she had been in his bed. There was no need for him to hurry. His prey had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. She would go back to the Harker Estate. He’d clean up, dress, feed, and then he would head out to collect his runaway bride. Sauntering into the bathroom, he flipped on the light and caught sight of his image in the mirror. He turned to face forward and study himself. He looked no different than he had fifty years ago. Tall, lean, no outward sign of aging revealed in his face, no hint of grey in his hair. If he could bottle and sell that portion of his DNA that accounted for that anomaly, if he could stop or slow the aging process, would the world still call him a monster? Somehow he didn’t think so. Then another thought occurred. His life would probably still be endangered, maybe more so. Some greedy corporate scientist would want all of his DNA. Face it, as far as the world is concerned, you’re fucked. Snorting, he turned from the mirror. Now would Gabrielle appreciate this gift of agelessness? Or would she consider herself and him a monster and hate him for what he had done? Her conversion was not complete, yet she was close. She would never be fully human again. Did she notice the differences in her body? In her abilities? He did. Had she been fully human, he would never have been able to let his passions loose. A human woman could not have withstood the power of his thrust, the strength of his grip. After experiencing sex with Gabrielle, he would never let her go. If he’d had any doubts, any hint of uncertainty, they had burnt away in the fire of their passion. Never had he been able to let his desire run free. Always in the past he had to remember to be careful, not to hurt the woman beneath him. Not so with Gabrielle, he had been wild and fierce. No way would he ever go back to the calm, placid lovemaking of the human world. Last night had sealed her fate. **** Gravel sprayed out behind the car as the back tires skidded and grabbed for purchase. Gabrielle’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. Racing time and the setting sun, she was going too fast and she knew it. She’d been speeding since leaving the lawyer’s office. Just get in the house. In the house. Vampyres can’t come in unless you ask them. The thought kept running through her head. If she could just get there before dark she’d be okay. Consciously, on the surface, she was afraid of Ivan. Afraid of whom and what he was. On a deeper level, a level she refused to acknowledge, she knew she had no reason to fear Ivan. It was that elemental level that had allowed her to sleep with him, had recognized him and acknowledged him as a protector, a lover.

All the way back from town she’d argued with herself. He wasn’t a vampyre. Vampyres were the product of ancient fears and superstitions. She had not slept with a vampyre! Sure his incisors had been a little on the long side, but that didn’t mean he was a vampyre. Maybe that was how the whole vampyre legend got started; some poor guy had really long incisors. Yeah right, and what’s your excuse for him lying there cold and stiff as a corpse? Slamming on the brakes, she brought the car to a screeching halt at the front steps. The car was still rocking back and forth when she threw open the door. In the house. In the house. Get in the house. Gabrielle couldn’t fight the sense of urgency that told her she had to get in the house. She would only be safe in the house. Taking the front steps two at a time, skirting around the brown stain in front of the doorway, she burst through the doors. Slamming them behind her, the sound echoed in the empty foyer. She leaned against them, catching her breath and calming her nerves. Never had the cursed place felt more like a safe haven, which was a mockery. The manor had never been a haven for her or her mother. The feeling of security didn’t last. The foyer was dim and cast in shadows. The only things stopping it from complete darkness were the dying rays of the setting sun shining through the lead glass window above the entrance. Yet that light offered little reassurance, for it was murky and tinged with red. Gooseflesh pimpled her arms. Licking her lips, Gabrielle stepped forward. “Hello. I’m back.” Her voice echoed in the house. Stilling, she glanced around the foyer and up the stairs. For the first time, she became aware of her heightened senses. Her eyes had adjusted to the dimness and she found she could see everything as if the room were full of light. Tilting her head to one side, she listened and became aware of the fact she could hear … everything. There were mice in the library, a window was open on the second floor causing the drapes to flap noisily. There were no other sounds; no one was in the house. Frowning, not trusting her newly heightened senses, she strode into the kitchen. Pushing the swinging door open with a bang, she revealed a darkened, silent kitchen. Swearing, she whirled about and headed to the servants’ quarters. Pounding up the back stairs, she hoped the noise she was making would rouse their attention. Hell, right now she’d love to have the cook’s negative attention. Anything, anything was better than nothing. Anyone was better than no one. She burst into Luba’s room, the door smacking against the wall. It was empty. Completely empty. None of the little maid’s personal belongings were there. Panicked, she rushed to the cook’s room only to find it empty as well. The cook, Luba, gone. She was alone. Gabrielle flew up the main staircase, she needed to leave, and leave now. The urgency beat within her, some sense telling her she was not safe here. The second floor landing had never looked so welcoming. She hit the portrait gallery at a dead run, her feet moving in a blur. As always, even in the midst of flight, a portrait caught her attention, and forced her feet to halt. Stopping, she moved toward the portrait as if pulled, her feet slow and dragging. The closer she got, the harder her heart began to pound. No. No. Please no. The denials were useless. The proof was before her. The hair was shorter now, the face slightly leaner, the clothes modern and stylish. But it was him without a doubt. Ivan Harker and Ivan Tepes were one in the same. Either she had slept with a really old man, a ghost, or something worse. The word vampyre whispered inside her head. Then an even more horrible thought occurred, and whirling, she headed back

down the stairs. Moments later, she burst into the library. Rushing across the room, she began searching the titles furiously. When she found what she was looking for she froze, unable to pull the book from the shelf. Part of her was terrified that her suspicions were true. Maybe ignorance would be bliss. Yet the need to know won out over cowardice, and with a trembling hand she removed the text from the bookcase. She opened the leather cover to the table of contents. Running her finger down the page, she found the chapter she was looking for, Vlad the Impaler. She thumbed through the pages until she came to the chapter. There it was, in the first line of the first paragraph. Vlad Tepes, later known as Vlad the Impaler, was… “Did you find what you were looking for?” Ivan’s voice came out of the darkness. Jumping in fright, Gabrielle opened her mouth to scream, but never got the chance. He was on her in a second, pulling her back against his chest, his hand clamped over her mouth. Lowering his head, he whispered in her ear, his breath stirring her hair. “Now you don’t want to do that. With our heightened senses, it would hurt both our ears. There is so much pleasure to be had with our extraordinary senses, but pain as well. Your scream would be piercing.” Gabrielle felt faint. Her mind was racing madly, yet she was unable to process a coherent thought. Her body on the other hand, had no problem analyzing the situation. She could feel the heat and strength of his body pressed into her back. Horrified, she realized her nipples were hardening in response to his presence. “If I let you go, will you remain calm? Let me explain?” He breathed the question against her ear, his voice pitched low in an attempt to calm and soothe her. Gabrielle nodded. After a moment, he loosened his hand and stepped back from her. It was her one chance and she took it. She sprang for the door, and miraculously, she escaped. But there was nowhere to run. Outside, he would surely catch her, she had no hope of outrunning him. She chose the stairs, hoping she could make it to her room and perhaps barricade herself in until morning. She ran as if her life depended on it, taking the stairs two at a time. Within seconds she was once again in the portrait gallery and sprinting toward her room. She slammed the door behind her and turned the lock. She looked around the darkened room, searching for something to place against the door. Seeing a heavy bureau, she rushed over and pushed it in front of the door. Standing back, she nodded in satisfaction. It wasn’t much, but it was the only barrier she had. Then, it hit her. She’d slept with a vampyre. Not just any vampyre but a descendant or follower of the vampyre, Count Dracula. Then another thought struck. Had he bitten her? Was she a vampyre too? Gabrielle rushed over to the dresser mirror. She pulled her hair away from her neck and tilted her head sideways. She looked for the telltale bite marks. “You’re not a vampyre … but you’re close.” This time he didn’t stop her from screaming. Instead, he remained seated in a chair in the darkened corner of her room. Her scream echoed around the room. But it was cut off abruptly. He was right, it hurt her ears. Heart pounding, she stared at the stranger in her room, then eyed the door. Licking her lips, she eased to the edge of the bed. If she could make it to the door…

“You won’t make it. This time I will catch you. You are fast, but I am faster.” She jerked her eyes back to him. He was still seated. Somehow, his relaxed posture calmed her. If he was going to attack, surely he would have done so by now. Still, she was prepared to run, to fight if need be. “How did you get in here?” Gabrielle’s voice was calm, though a little shaky. Ivan nodded to a set of windows. The curtains billowed in the night air, they were open. Gabrielle sagged against one of the posts at the foot of the bed. An open window. He had simply scaled the outside wall and entered through the windows. Was it possible? Or was she hallucinating? Maybe she would wake up next to Ivan and find all of this to be a dream. “Are you a ghost? Am I losing my mind? Or is all this a really bad dream?” “No. I’m not a ghost, you are not losing your mind, and this is most definitely not a dream.” She didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud until he answered her. “Who are you? What are you?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answers. But she needed the answers, for her own sanity.

Chapter Ten “Who am I? What am I? Which question should I answer? Will you believe me if I tell you?” Ivan studied the woman standing across from him. She no longer looked ready to flee or pass out, but there was still a wild look in her eyes. This had not gone as he had planned. Sure he had imagined having to calm her down, soothe her fears. But he hadn’t expected her to run in terror. Now, how to tell her who he was, what he was? How to explain his relationship with Roderick? Or more importantly, why he bit her. How to say all those things without causing her more pain or fright? Maybe it would be best if he began from the beginning. Explain how he came about before he explained what he was. “My brother and I are the grandchildren of Jonathan and Mina Harker.” “Oh shit. This is a nightmare.” Gabrielle gasped. Putting a finger to his lips, he warned her to be silent. “Mina Harker was pregnant when she fed from Count—” “You mean drank his blood!” “Gabrielle, do you want me to tell you this or not?” Ivan’s voice reflected his amusement. He felt his muscles loosen as tension left him. If she was comfortable enough to interrupt him, she couldn’t be too afraid of him. “Okay, I won’t say another word.” Ivan raised a brow. He had his doubts that she would remain silent. Huffing, Gabrielle sat on the edge of the mattress. Ivan took that as another sign she was nowhere near as scared of him as she acted. “As I was saying, Mina Harker was pregnant when she fed—” Gabrielle made a little noise in the back of her throat—“drank Dracula’s blood. So, even though she and her husband killed Dracula before she was completely converted, there were some side effects. Side effects neither she nor Jonathan could comprehend, until she gave birth.” He paused. “To twins. By blood the children were Jonathan’s, but were exposed to Dracula’s blood while in Mina’s womb, while organs were still forming. Born of a mortal woman with the DNA of the oldest known vampyre, the resulting children had many of the strengths of the vampyre and few of its weaknesses.” “You were born a vampyre?” Her shock was evident in her outburst. “Yes, as was my brother Erik. Because of her unique DNA, my mother was neither pure vampyre nor human, but a hybrid capable of reproduction. She in turn passed on her unique abilities to my brother and me. We have the ability to walk in the light of day, commune with wolves, and have incredible strength and speed. We also have an aversion to iron and flame and may cross water only when it’s at its lowest ebb.” Gabrielle sat there in stunned silence, looking out into space. The minutes ticked by. Ivan waited for her to digest the first part of his tale before he started the second. This was too important to rush. Finally, Gabrielle stirred and directed her gaze back to him. “You’re a vampyre?” “Yes.” At least she wasn’t screaming hysterically. They sat in silence until another thought struck. “Was Roderick? Is Roderick?” He could hear the horror and fear reflected in her

voice. “Yes. Roderick was my uncle, and my mother was Madalina, his twin.” A whimper escaped. “But Roderick died in a car wreck!” “Decapitated. That will kill a vampyre.” “What about me?” She touched her neck, remembering his bite. “Am I infected with vampyre blood?” “Yes.” This was going to be the hard part. But her calm disposition gave him hope. “Why? Why me?” She sounded more stunned than angry. “Roderick had imprisoned my brother Erik and me in an iron vault. Unable to escape, we hadn’t fed in over a month. When you were visiting your mother’s vault, we heard you walk by. We called for help, you opened the door and freed us.” “So you bit me?” she asked incredulously. Sighing, Ivan got up and walked over to the window. This was the hard part. “It had been so long. I was close to bloodlust. Your blood called to me.” “Why were you locked in an iron vault?” With his back to her, he continued his tale. “Mina loved her children, despite the vampyre blood that ran through their veins. Maybe it was the power of her maternal instincts; maybe it was she retained some slight feeling for the Count. Honestly, I don’t know. Either way, Mina loved them. Jonathan did not and it was a hatred that deepened with the years. Finally, Madalina and Roderick were forced to leave England, for Jonathan’s hate had become deadly.” “That’s horrible! How old were they?” “Twenty. They had nowhere to go, no one to go to. So they came here, to Romania. They found Dracula’s castle, but by then it was falling apart, so they used the ruins to build a new home. This one.” Ivan turned to look back at Gabrielle and held out his hand for her to join him. She did so without hesitation. He wondered if she realized that she had lost all fear of him. Pulling her to his side, he pushed the curtain back. Gabrielle’s bedroom was located at the corner of the house, enabling her to see both the front and side lawns. He pointed to the front entrance. “The granite flooring of the entrance has a brown stain. That stain marks the location of Dracula’s death.” “Why? Why would they do such a thing?” Gabrielle looked up into his eyes. She wasn’t condemning his mother. He read her need to understand written on her face. “As a reminder that they were not like anyone else. To never drop their guard, lest one of them lose their life like Dracula had.” “Yes, that makes sense.” Gabrielle nodded her understanding. “Madalina and Roderick lived here for decades, alone. Then she fell in love with a mortal. At last she was happy for a while. But Roderick…” Ivan sighed. “Roderick wasn’t happy. How could he be? Madalina was in love with someone else.” “But, he was her brother.” “Yes. But they had spent fifty years together. Maybe it was fear of being alone, maybe it was something dark and twisted, I don’t know. I do know he could not bear the thought of my mother being in love. So her lover met an untimely death.” “No!” Gabrielle gasped in horror. “Oh yes, then Roderick fled back to England. She would have followed and killed

him had a phenomenon of nature not occurred. She was pregnant.” “You see yourself as a phenomenon of nature?” Ivan looked down and gave her a self-depreciating smile. “No, but the fact that she could become pregnant was. Madalina refused to leave, refused to do anything that might put her child in danger. By the time I was born, she found she no longer needed to seek revenge. Five years later, she had met another man and had Erik.” “Where is your mother now?” “Dead.” “How?” He told her how Roderick, on the pretext of calling a truce had lured them to their iron prison and had kept them prisoners, fed just enough to stay alive. “My mother died in her iron coffin. Erik and I, we were just too stubborn. We waited, lived for our chance at revenge.” “But Roderick died.” “Yes, and you saved us.” As he explained her conversion, Gabrielle turned from him and went to sit on the edge of the bed, her face revealing her stunned amazement. “I shared my blood with you to save you. I could not reward your deed with death. Even then I wasn’t sure you would survive, wasn’t sure I had the ability to convert you. But you did and I could not ignore the blood bond between us.” Turning from the window, he walked across the room to stand at the side of her bed. Reaching out, he lifted a curl from her shoulder and let it wrap around his finger. “At first I tried to stay away. But I could not. From the moment we shared blood, we have been connected. Only death will sever the connection.” She put her hand on top of his. Her fear of him had disappeared. He could have hurt her anytime in the last month, but had not done so. It was too late to be afraid of him now. “But I am the stepdaughter of your enemy. Why did you save me? How can you bear to touch me? Why would you—” Gabrielle began, looking bewildered. “I can’t seem to free myself from you, your scent, your taste. I have had to battle myself not to finish your conversion. If you are my enemy, you are my beloved enemy.” Ivan’s voice was hoarse. “If I feed … I would be like you?” Ivan nodded, but didn’t say anything to sway her decision. He couldn’t force her to convert. Wouldn’t, no matter how much he desired it. Gabrielle studied him. She stood silent for so long, Ivan began to worry. To question if he was going to be able to walk away from her. Then she exhaled deeply, as if reaching a decision. Smiling seductively, watching him from underneath lowered lashes, she rose to stand before him. She pulled her shirt up and over her head and threw it at him. He caught it without thinking, his eyes never left Gabrielle. She shimmied out of her pants and kicked them to the side. Then she stood before him in her bra and panties. Shaking her hair out and around her shoulders, she lay back onto the mattress in a pose that would do a playmate proud. Ivan didn’t need a second invitation. He began stripping his clothes off as fast as possible. With a vampyre’s speed, it was only seconds before he was crawling into bed beside her.

He lay between her open thighs, propped up on his arms so he could look into her eyes. He wanted to see her acceptance, her understanding of where this was going. Finding the acceptance he was looking for, he murmured.“V? face?i-mi inima zambet.” You make my heart smile. He lowered his head and kissed her. A soft, gentle kiss. A kiss a boy would give his first love. Taking his time, he spread kisses across her face. Her cheeks, her forehead. They were as light as a butterfly landing. Returning to her mouth, he took her lower lip between his teeth and drew it into his mouth, suckling then letting go. Covering her mouth with his, he explored the inside, stroking her tongue with his, slowly, leisurely. Gabrielle threaded her fingers through his silken hair, holding him to her. Returning his kiss, and humming with enjoyment from the mating of their tongues. Leaving her lips, Ivan kissed her jaw line as he made his way to her ear. His voice husky with emotion, he whispered, “Nevoie la spre a fi cu tine pentru totdeauna dragostea mea!” I want to be with you forever, my love! He bit the lobe and licked the sting away. Gabrielle’s whimper spurred him on. He was pouring his heart out to her. “Sã mã faci sã complet?.” You make me complete. As he worked his way down her neck to her breasts, the kisses became wetter, more passionate. He couldn’t get enough of her. The smell and taste of her skin as intoxicating as any wine. He unsnapped the front of her bra and exposed her breasts. He laved one nipple and then the other with the velvet of his tongue. In response, Gabrielle arched her hips and rubbed her sex against his abdomen. She was wet with desire, and her thong panties provided no protection. He snapped the sides and the tiny scrap of cloth fell away. With no clothes between them the skin on skin contact was electrifying. With each pull on her nipple, she rubbed the creamy lips of her sex against him. His stomach was becoming slick with evidence of her desire. Ivan knew it wouldn’t take much more for her to come. He began kissing his way down her stomach, sliding lower on the bed until her thighs rested on his shoulders and his hot breath drifted over her swollen nether lips. She moaned and shifted her hips restlessly. With both thumbs, he spread her labia and exposed her clitoris. It was rigid, the hood pulled back, begging for his kiss. Leaning forward, he pulled it into his mouth. Gabrielle dug her nails into his scalp, holding him there. Releasing her flesh, he licked her from hole to clit. Then he did it again before thrusting his tongue inside her. Fucking her with his tongue, he moved his thumb to press against the stiffened button at the top of her sex. Gabrielle screamed as she climaxed. Levering himself up, Ivan stared down at the woman open and exposed before him. Her breasts rose and fell rapidly, the nipples hard and reddened from his attention. Her legs lay open before him. Pink lips peeked out through the triangle of black pubic hair. She was slick and glistening from her climax. “Vreau s? v? aib? întotdeauna la partea mea.” I want to have you always at my side. “Cu corpul meu, te iubesc.” With my body, I love thee. Grasping his penis at the base, he guided the head to her opening. He ran it up and down her lips, wetting it with her juices, tormenting them both with the friction. The sight was so incredibly erotic, he felt his balls tighten and pull up against him. Leaning forward, the tip was barely in when Gabrielle put a hand on him, stopping his entry. Using her grip on his cock, she pulled him up. He thought his heart would explode when he realized what she was going to do.

Using one arm as a brace against the headboard, he leaned forward, watching her lips envelop the head of his cock. He closed his eyes, and his head fell back as he surrendered to the magic of her tongue. She licked him from top to bottom and nibbled along his shaft. Taking the head into her mouth, she ran the tip of her tongue around the ridge that separated the head from the shaft. Bobbing her head up and down, her hand kept rhythm as she stroked his shaft. Gritting his teeth, he pulled back out of her mouth. When he came it would be inside her body. Moving back down her body, he positioned his cock at her entrance. “Is this what you want? You’ll never be able to go back to the way you were.” He wasn’t sure if he could give her the choice he was offering. “Yes. I want this. I want you.” She rotated her pelvis, rubbing the head of his cock against her entrance. “Then open your eyes and watch.” They both watched as the broad tip disappeared into her. She was hot and tight as a glove. Ivan groaned at the sensation of her inner walls clamping down on him. Halfway in, her whimper of distress stopped him. Jerking his gaze from the sight of their joining he looked up into her face. She smiled worriedly. “It’s been a long time. I’m a little sore from last night.” “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.” He tried to smile reassuringly but it was more a grimace. Pulling out of her, Ivan sat back on his heels. His erection pointed up, touching his belly button. He pulled her to him until her thighs lay open on top of his. In this position he could enter her in slow increments. He guided his cock back to her entrance and pulled her up and onto the tip of his shaft. Rather than thrusting, he moved her up and down. Each time he pulled her up he sank his shaft in a little deeper, until finally, he was buried to the hilt. Once there he didn’t pull out. When he stopped she snapped her eyes open. “Quit playing and fuck me.” “You sure you can take it?” He pulled her up and down then stopped again. “You’re not too sore?” “Yes.” It was a hiss. “I can take whatever you got. Now fuck me.” She muttered the words through gritted teeth. Ivan leaned forward, forcing her legs to bend until her knees were at his shoulders. Planting a hand on each side of her head, he began to thrust rapidly. Slamming into her, making no allowances, he fucked her as she had demanded. A keening moan escaped from her lips. He fell on top of her, gripping her ass, holding her still as he drilled into her. Then she was climaxing, her whole body locked tight in ecstasy. Burying her face in his neck, without any compulsion, driven by naked lust, she bit him. Incisors sank deep, and his blood flowed into her mouth. He was close to coming. When Gabrielle bit him, it pushed him over the edge. Thrusting deeply, his body jerked as he spurted inside her. Unable to resist, he locked onto her neck as well. They lay locked together in rapture, sharing the blood exchange of mates. She pushed against his shoulder, silently telling him to give her some space. Ivan rolled over onto his side, pulling her into a spoon position in front of him. * Gabrielle lay there, her thoughts tumbling, reconciling her emotions. Roderick had

been a vampyre. Her mother had married a vampyre. Her stomach roiled. It explained so much. Her mother’s failing health, her unwillingness to leave him. She had been under his power. The old saying, like mother like daughter, must be true. She was in love with a vampyre. In love. Was she in love with him? Was it possible to fall in love with someone in just a matter of days, hours? Sure she’d heard of people doing that, but she’d never met any. Love at first sight was a myth. But so are vampyres, a tiny voice in her head whispered. Swallowing tightly, she let that thought sink in. Could she do this? Did she have much of a choice? She had just let passion and emotion overrule her brain and she had bitten his fucking neck. Take a chance, Gabby. Reach for what you want, her heart urged. “So, I’m immortal now?” Frowning, Gabrielle rolled over to face Ivan. The conversion had been easy. She had fallen asleep after the blood exchange and awakened converted. “I’m not sure.” His admission sounded reluctant. “What? That’s a raw deal!” She sat up. Holding the blanket to her chest, she glared down at Ivan. “My mother was half. I’m a quarter. Does that part include immortality? I only have one way of finding out.” She sighed. “Okay, I can live with that.” Then a truly horrendous thought struck. “Can I eat real food?” If he told her she’d never have steak, or pizza, or worse, chocolate again… “Yes. You will find you want your meat rare, and at times you will need to feed on fresh blood.” “Human?” She hadn’t thought about that at the time, but she really didn’t think she was going to be able to hunt people as food. “No. Animal will suffice. Personally, I prefer bovine blood. And before you ask, no, the animal doesn’t need to die.” Gabrielle relaxed back onto the mattress. “Good. This is like having your cake and eating it too.” Rising up on one elbow, Ivan leaned over her. “You will never grow sick. You will be able to walk in the sun, but with none of the strength you would have at night. We will outlive any mortal we befriend. Truly, we will only have one another and any children we might have. A true vampyre is incapable of reproduction. Since we are hybrids, we will probably be able to have children, but it might take a long time.” Leaning down, he kissed her nose. The thought of children forced another question. “Do you love me?” “Yes. Though there was more lust than love in the beginning.” Ivan’s mouth turned down. “But I spent a month watching you, falling in love with you. When I followed you to Brasov, it was to claim you as my wife, my beloved wife.” Picking up one of her hands, he placed it over the faint beat of his heart. “This beats for you.” That did it, the declaration melting any reservations she had. “Then I’m eternally yours. I love you, Ivan Harker.” That earned her a long kiss.

“Now are there any other questions that need answering right now?” He pressed his erection against her hip. “Yes, I have another question.” “What?” Ivan flopped onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. Gabrielle straddled his lap. “Can I be on top?” The End About the Author: A native of North Carolina, Jayelle has called both the coast and the mountains home. No matter the locale, reading had been a fundamental part of her life. Seeing as she spent so much time reading, family and friends continually asked when she planned on becoming a writer. Finally, her husband and mother bought a laptop and ordered her to write something. She did.

Meet LSB Authors At The House Of Sin Lsbooks.NET We invite you to visit Liquid Silver Books LSbooks.com for other exciting erotic romances. 2007: Terran Realm Urban fantasy world: TerranRealm.com Featured Series: The Zodiac Series: 12 books, 24 stories and authors Two hot stories for each sign, 12 signs The Coven of the Wolf by Rae Morgan Benevolent lusty witches keep evil forces at bay Fallen: by Tiffany Aaron Fallen angels in hot flight to redeem their wings The Max Series by JB Skully Meet Max, her not-absent dead husband, sexy detective Witt, his mother… And many, many more!