Eden's Curse

EDEN’S CURSE An Ellora’s Cave Publication, March 2005 Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc. 1337 Commerce Drive, #13 Stow, OH 44224 ISBN MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-4199-0183-4 Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned): Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), Mobipocket (PRC) & HTML EDEN’S CURSE Copyright © 2005 ELISA ADAMS ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without permission. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. They are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously. Edited by Martha Punches. Cover art by Christine Clavel.

Warning: The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers. Eden’s Curse has been rated E–rotic by a minimum of three independent reviewers. Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (Erotic), and X (X-treme). S-ensuous love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination. E-rotic love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. In addition, some E-rated titles might contain fantasy material that some readers find objectionable, such as bondage, submission, same sex encounters, forced seductions, and so forth. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry; it is common, for instance, for an author to use words such as “fucking”, “cock”, “pussy”, and such within their work of literature. X-treme titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Unlike E-rated titles, stories designated with the letter X tend to contain controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.

EDEN’S CURSE

Elisa Adams

Trademarks Acknowledgement The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Jeep: Chrysler Motor Company

Eden’s Curse

Chapter One The late-night wind moaned and whistled through the trees, echoing the howling emotions warring inside Trent. Hatred, anger and fear…they hadn’t left him in too long to remember. Even here, in the middle of the woods on a lonely summer night, he found no peace. Five years had passed. Five long, torturous years where with every step he took, every breath he drew, someone somewhere felt the need to remind him of all he’d lost. All he’d supposedly done. He couldn’t take another second. He’d escaped Chicago and fled to Hammond, Massachusetts—a coastal town that had the reputation of being one of the most haunted small towns in America. He snorted at the thought. What better place for a best-selling horror writer to hide out and lick his wounds than a town supposedly filled with ghosts and demons? Even the cottage he’d rented had a ghostly history. The landlady, a tiny, frail, elderly woman who had introduced herself as Mrs. Morrow, had relished in telling him the tale of the young woman seen wandering the grounds late at night. It was said that she seduced men, causing some of them to lose their minds. He scoffed at the idea. One thing endless hours of research into demons and monsters had taught him was that they were all fiction. Made-up fairy tales to entertain, and to scare little children into being good. He didn’t buy into the philosophy of paranormal creatures. He just capitalized on the idea and made a fortune. Funny that even after the media had branded him a killer they hadn’t managed to hurt his book sales. He pushed off the hammock where he’d been dozing and wandered out into the small yard surrounding the cottage. The money meant nothing now, not when he’d lost everything that had been important to him. First Sandra, and then his reputation. And 5

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nearly his freedom. Sheer luck had kept him from getting convicted of the brutal crime he didn’t commit. He would never escape it, no matter where he went. Except here. In Hammond, in the middle of the woods, on the edge of the ocean, there was no one around to point accusing fingers. No evil glares, no mumbled words. No one to sidestep him on the street. Here, for the first time in five years, he could finally be left alone. But he didn’t feel alone. Hadn’t since he’d arrived two weeks earlier. He cleared his throat. The rumors and stories he heard around town on the few trips he’d made for food must have gotten to him. He could think of no other explanation, except maybe that he was losing his mind. He didn’t even want to contemplate that idea, though with all the stress he’d lived through it was a distinct possibility. He’d come to Hammond to heal, yet his mental health seemed to be moving in the other direction. His hands shook as his gaze scanned the yard around him. The full moon washed the small, well-kept lawn and surrounding woods in eerie shades of glimmering blue. Summer humidity hung heavy in the air, trying to squeeze the breath from his lungs. The low rumble of thunder in the distance threatened rain, but he’d learned quickly that New England weather could change in an instant. Thick swirls of fog rose from the ground, wrapping their clammy fingers around his bare ankles. The shadows seemed to dance and sway on the moonlight. A shiver raced down the length of his spine before settling into a cold ball in the pit of his stomach. Leaves and twigs cracked in the distance. The shadows at the edge of the woods picked up tempo, dancing in a furious rhythm that iced his blood. Hadn’t the townsfolk said the woods were haunted, too? He couldn’t keep all the stories from jumbling in his head. Every person he met had a different tale to tell. It seemed that there weren’t many places one could go in Hammond without the possibility of running into a ghost or spirit of some kind. The soft, dewy grass caressed the soles of his feet as he made his way to the edge of the woods. The rich, briny scent of the ocean filled the air, along with the sounds of the waves breaking against the rocky shore just beyond the thick outcropping of trees. It

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had become habit to walk the path cut through the woods to the ocean a few hundred feet away from the rented house, to stare out across the vast expanse of water and wonder what everything would have been like had Sandra lived. At first, he’d had thoughts about walking into the ocean, becoming one with the waves and letting them carry away his pain. Now, as he broke through the trees and stood on the jagged rocks that made up the shoreline, he shook his head. It would have been so easy to walk into the dark water. To keep going, letting the water wash over his head, move away from the world and the life he would never have back. To finally be free of the pain of the past. To be at peace. Yeah, right. He wouldn’t do it. He knew that now, though it had taken the years since Sandra’s death for him to figure it out. As tempting as the idea was, something kept him hanging on when he had nothing left. Anxiety, or the tiny hope that things would change—he didn’t know what kept him from ending it, but something had kept him going for the past five years when he saw no way out of his pain. Something had stopped him two weeks ago, when the idea of letting the dark, cold ocean embrace him had first entered his mind. The cottage—called the old Morgan place after the original owner—held a sense of peace, a sense of balance that had been missing from his life for too long. The rough, flat rocks scraped the bottoms of his feet. The salty wind stung his face, bit into his bare shoulders and chest. For the first time since Sandra’s gruesome death, the numbness that had settled over him on the night of her murder and his arrest had lifted. Sharp, intense pain replaced it, tonight both physical and mental, but he welcomed the pain. He welcomed anything that let him know he was alive, and not the shell of a man he’d been for so long. He had his life back again, and he intended to live it. He turned away from the siren’s call of the ocean and wandered back along the leaf-strewn path to the cottage. Sticks and pebbles scratched his feet, but he pushed aside the discomfort. His soles had toughened, thanks to years of preferring bare feet to

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shoes whenever possible. He made his way slowly through the trees and back into the yard. A shadow moved near the front porch, darted from the steps into a dark corner below. He froze. The hair on the back of his neck prickled. “Who’s there?” Only the howl of the wind answered his call. “Hello? Is someone out there?” “Yes.” The soft, feminine voice caught him by surprise. He stumbled back a step. “Where are you?” “I’m here.” A small, fair woman walked out of the shadows, her hands clasped in front of her. Blonde hair fell to her waist, tossed around her tiny body by the strong, summer winds. A sleeveless white dress draped her from shoulders to toes, but hinted at generous curves underneath. His mouth went dry and his heart skidded to a stop. Arousal smacked him in the gut, stealing the breath from his lungs. His cock twitched under his boxers—the only item of clothing he wore since he’d expected no visitors. Could it be that the ghost of the old Morgan place had finally come to pay him a visit? He blinked, rubbed his eyes. Swallowed hard. He had to be imagining things. The woman standing in front of him was no ghost. She was a flesh and blood woman. One who had no business being out here in the middle of the night. Suspicion welled in him and he swallowed it down. “Can I help you with something, Miss?” A small smile danced on her full, pink lips. “Maybe we could help each other.” A lump formed in his throat. Her light, easy tone sparked even more suspicion and doubt inside him. Was she a reporter, looking for an exclusive on his story? Lord knew he’d met enough of them over the past few years. He refused to talk to any of them. “How can we be of help to each other? Do I know you from somewhere?”

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“No.” She raised her hand to his face, her warm palm cupping his stubble-covered chin and her thumb tracing his mouth. Unbidden, his lips parted and his tongue touched the pad of her thumb. He tried to step away, but his legs had turned to stone. Am I dreaming? He could think of no other plausible explanation. Unless he really had lost his mind. He gulped, his gaze glued to the hypnotic blue of her eyes and what he found in her gaze—innocence mated with agelessness, trust with manipulation. It only served to increase his arousal. His cock hardened to the point of pain, struggling to get closer to her, to sink into her wet heat. He shook his head, tried to shake off the unfamiliar loss of control. It had to be a dream. Nothing else made sense. “What do you want from me?” A soft peal of mesmerizing laughter escaped her, drawing him further into her spell. “That depends. What do you have to offer?” This couldn’t be happening. The rumors prodded his mind again, but he refused to accept the possibility that he might be standing in front of a ghost. Her hand felt too warm against his skin for her to be anything but real. He stepped back, ducked away from her touch. If he could get away from her, he’d be able to think again. “Are you lost? Do you need a ride back to town?” He glanced around the yard and the driveway, but saw no other vehicle besides his own Jeep. According to the landlady, the closest neighbor was over a mile away. How had she made it here, barefoot no less? “I think you’re the one who’s lost.” He shook his head even as the truth of her words stabbed him through the heart. She wasn’t speaking of physical whereabouts. “No. I know exactly who I am, and where I’m going. It’s late. If you’ll excuse me…” He turned and strode toward the house, determined to get away from the strange woman and regain his sanity. The brush of her warm hand on his upper arm stopped him in his tracks. He spun to find her right behind him. How had she moved so silently that he hadn’t heard her approach? He sucked in a sharp breath, his nerves on high 9

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alert. Something about her wasn’t right. Many things weren’t right. He’d been thrust into some kind of alternate dimension where reality as he knew it didn’t exist. None of this could be real. It was a dream. A hallucination. But his body refused to listen to reason. “What is it you want from me?” he ground out, even as his cock hardened further in his boxers. At the same time as he said the words, every cell of his body screamed for him to take her, to take what she so blatantly offered. To push her up against the side of the house, tear her dress from her body, and thrust his cock home. No. This isn’t real. It’s a stress-induced dream. “I have nothing to offer you.” “Oh, I don’t think that’s true. You have something I want very much.” She had something he wanted, too. Her body. Her heat. If he had just one taste of her, he would die a happy man. Stop. Ignore the pull. He didn’t know why his mind’s warning was so important, just that it was. She wrapped her fingers around his neck and dragged him closer, so close that their lips would touch if either of them moved an inch. “Have you ever wanted one night with a woman, to do with as you wish, to fulfill your every fantasy, and be able to walk away with no regrets in the morning?” Yes. Afraid his tone and his words would betray him, he said nothing. He kept his arms at his sides, barely moved, barely breathed, afraid to back away and afraid to pull her close. What if she was a dream and she evaporated in his arms? What if she didn’t? “Yes, you have. I see your answer in your eyes. Come closer. I can make your every fantasy come true.” Not unless she could turn back time to that night five years ago when his entire world had caved in. “I’m not interested.”

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“I think I can change your mind.” She stood on tiptoe and touched her mouth to his. In that second he knew he’d lost the battle with his body. If this was what she wanted, this was what she would get. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her flush against him, making sure she felt the hard ridge of his cock against her belly. She arched against him, grinding her body into his, making him want. Making him need. He dove into the kiss with all he had, showing her all the pent-up emotion and urgency of five years of celibacy. Five years of numb nothingness. He was rough, out of practice, and he expected her to push him away and chastise him for his clumsiness. Instead she moaned and melted into the kiss. His cock ached with a ferocity he hadn’t felt in years, his mind all but shutting down due to the overwhelming sensations. If she was a dream, it was one he would never forget. If she had come to seduce him and kill him as the some of the townsfolk had warned, he’d die a very happy man.

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Chapter Two Eden gave herself over to the kiss, putting her all into it, demanding his surrender. He would surrender. They all did. But this one seemed different from the ones who had come before him. Stronger. More stubborn. He wouldn’t fall so easily. She would have to find ways to help him along. His erection prodded her belly, growing thicker and longer the more she touched him. That was an encouraging sign. Maybe he’d be like all the rest, after all. Need welled in her center, pulling her in all directions, threatening to tear her apart. It was always like this in the beginning. But by the time it ended, she would forget his name. Forget the feel of his muscles moving under her hands, his lips caressing hers. Because no matter how many times she wished to change the course of her fate, it wouldn’t happen. This man, like all the others, was temporary. None of them stayed. None of them remembered her past the erotic dreams she was able to provide them. None of them mattered. This one is different. She brushed off the thought, put all her focus back where it belonged. On the seduction. On feeding her body as well as her soul. Trent would be hers. Tonight. His clean scent of soap and musky man dampened her pussy and pebbled her nipples against the soft fabric of her dress. She ached for the feel of his cock pounding into her pussy, for the taste of his warm, rich blood running over her tongue. It had been so long…months since she’d had a man inside her as she fed the need deep within her belly. For too long she’d made do with quick, unsatisfying feedings. Fast, frantic couplings that left her unsatisfied. Now, faced with such an incredible specimen of beautiful, tortured man, she couldn’t resist tempting him into giving her all she wanted. And what he would soon want, too.

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He broke away from her lips, his chest heaving with his gasping breaths and his eyes glazed in passion. Thick, dark eyelashes the color of his hair framed those blue eyes. He was large, well-muscled, and carried himself with confidence mixed with the arrogance of a man who knew how to use his size to his advantage. She licked her lips, let her fingers trail down the long length of his cock. He would do nicely. Very nicely. He would be perfect. “What’s your name?” he asked, his voice nothing more than a gravelly whisper. “That isn’t important. Forget names. Forget everything except how we can make each other feel.” “I don’t do this.” He swung his arms wide in a gesture. “I don’t know you. I can’t…” Her fingers tightened on his cock, stroking him even harder. “I think you can.” Why was he being so difficult? She’d never run into a man who didn’t fall prey to her seduction. She wouldn’t start now. “No.” His words only increased her need to make him fall at her feet. Fight me if you must, but you will go down. You will give me what I want. She wouldn’t admit, even to herself, that what she wanted from this one was different. She’d watched him, studied him for so long that she had learned him. She wanted to know him. But first, she needed to feed the hunger threatening to drive her mad. She slipped her hand under the elastic waistband of his boxers, gripping his cock and caressing it with her fingers. It heated and throbbed under her touch. Her actions seemed to coax his willingness out of him. He gripped her arms, pulled her up against him. “I don’t understand any of this. Who are you? Why me?” “Because you’re here.” A bitter laugh escaped him, his dark eyes thunderous. “This has got to be some kind of dream. This is not happening.”

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She sighed, fought against the everlasting disappointment, the curse that kept her from finding true happiness. The spell that brought her into their dreams kept them from thinking of her as real when they woke, therefore assuring the curse would never be broken. None of them cared for her. Who would care for a woman only seen in dreams? So she didn’t let herself care for them, not past the pleasure their bodies could bring and the sustenance their blood would provide. It didn’t matter who he was, or what the world knew him as. They were all the same to her. Something to sustain her until the next available man came along and fed her body and soul. Her thoughts were all lies, but the lies were the only things that had kept her going after all this time. Yet again, she pushed aside all hopes of meeting the one man who could change her destiny, and put on her best seductive pout. “I could make you feel better than any woman ever has.” “I don’t doubt it.” She ran her fingernail down the center of his chest, from his collarbone to the waistband of his boxers. His cock jumped against her hand and he took a step toward her. “This is a dream.” His words were more question than statement, and she could do nothing but tell him the truth. In the end it wouldn’t matter anyway. He wouldn’t remember her when he woke in the morning, at least not details. He would only remember erotic dreams. A woman who couldn’t be real. “Yes, Trent. It is a dream. I’m your every fantasy.” The last of his doubts faded from his eyes and he brought his mouth down on hers in a punishing kiss. His tongue stroked into her mouth, claiming, devastating, sweeping her away on the tide of his dark, dangerous emotions. Her nipples ached and a gush of cream drenched her cunt. Arousal took over her mind, putting her true nature into play. She pulled her hand from his cock, settled both her palms on the wide, muscled expanse of his chest and pushed. He broke away and stumbled back a few steps, his eyes wide and his expression dazed. “What?” 14

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“I need you inside me. Now.” The words that flew out of her mouth shocked her. Up until this moment she had always enjoyed foreplay more than the sex. She loved to tease and torment a man with her hands and mouth, even her hair, but with Trent, the thought of waiting one more minute to get his cock in her left her cold. She wanted— needed—fast and furious sex. Something to ease the ache deep inside her. Another night she would have her fun. But now she had waited too long to feed, and the urge to do so was overwhelming. She expected him to voice yet more objections, but he nodded instead. “Yeah. Now. On your hands and knees.” She blinked at him, surprised at the ease in which he took control of the situation. All the others had allowed her to play, to set the course the actions took and carry it through to the end. He didn’t give her a chance to argue. “This is my dream. My fantasy, sweetheart. This is what I want. On your hands and knees. Now.” Her breath left her in a whoosh as she dropped to her knees and settled her hands on the ground in front of her. She hadn’t chosen wisely this time. This one should have been left alone. Why hadn’t she noticed that about him sooner? In the two weeks she’d watched him, he’d appeared to be nothing more than a man in pain, listlessly floating through life and no doubt pining over the fiancée he’d been accused of killing. Nothing she’d seen had shown her such a fiercely dominant streak, one she’d never experienced before. Her cunt quivered at the thought. It shouldn’t excite her to let him take charge, but it did. He knelt behind her, grunting as he tried to lift her dress over her hips. Caught under her knees, the material refused to budge. She started to shift to free the soft fabric, but his hand on her back, just above her ass, stopped her movements. “Hold still.” Before she could utter a word of protest, he gripped the fabric in his big hands and gave it a rough yank. The sound of ripping fabric filled her senses as the warm wind 15

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brushed her bare ass. She gulped, but wriggled closer at the same time. “Now. Please, now.” Rivulets of moisture trailed down the insides of her thighs. He caught them with his fingers, and she heard him suck the fingers into his mouth. He leaned over her, his cock pressing between her ass cheeks. “Delicious,” he murmured in her ear. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a woman?” She shook her head, her body trembling all over. “Five years. Five long, empty years. My cock wants to bury itself inside you, to pound into you for the rest of the night.” She whimpered. “You like the sound of that, huh?” He ground his cock against her ass. “Me too. You like it rough, sweetheart?” Usually, if she got to be in charge. This was all new territory and it excited her as much as it scared her. “Yes.” “Good, because my control is more than a little lacking at this point.” He moved away from her long enough to strip off his boxers. And then he was back behind her, shoving her legs apart, dipping his cock along her slit. Teasing her. She pushed back against him. “Please.” A bitter laugh escaped him just before he parted her folds and thrust his cock deep into her cunt. He seated himself fully within her in one thrust, pitching her forward. Her elbows gave way and her forearms smacked the hard ground. He didn’t seem to notice. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her back against him with every thrust. Her ass slapped his stomach harder and harder each time, her impending climax curling deep within her. The sensations he dragged from her were too much. Too overwhelming. She felt like she might burst from the pleasure of it all. A keening moan escaped her lips as one of his hands left her hips and trailed down to her sex. His blunt, strong fingers found her clit, teased it mercilessly. He stroked

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inside her, tugged on the hard nub of flesh, pushed her closer and closer to the brink until she was mindless with need. Her breath came in gasping whimpers, her nerves were tingling as a knot tightened low in her stomach. His rough touch grew faster, harder, but still it wasn’t enough. She needed more. She needed it all. Seeming to sense her need, Trent pressed her clit between his thumb and forefinger, anchoring her to him as he slammed his cock home. It was enough to push her over the edge into a mind-numbing climax that turned everything around her to black. She was dimly aware of his stiffening, emptying his seed deep inside her womb, but her concentration centered on milking the last jolts out of the most powerful climax she’d had in nearly a century. He pulled out and flopped onto his back on the grass, his eyes closed and his hands clenched into fists. Eden pushed herself into a sitting position, shaken and very aware of the magic that had just transpired between them. She would be smart to walk away from this one before she got in too deep. But in her mind, she knew it was already too late. She leaned over him, glanced into his sleepy eyes and smiled. “There is one more thing I need from you, Trent. Something more important than even sex.” Her fangs elongated as she bent her head to his chest.

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Chapter Three “Mr. Martin? Are you okay?” Trent snapped awake at the sound of the familiar voice. Not the woman he’d been with last night. Someone else. His eyes came into focus and he found Mrs. Morrow standing over him, her hands on her hips and her thin lips pulled into a wrinkled frown. He bolted upright and nearly fell off the hammock he’d been sleeping in. He slammed his feet down on the ground to steady himself and scrubbed a hand down his face. The hot sun beat down on the yard around him, scorching his uncovered skin. What the hell had happened? How had he ended up spending the whole night in the front yard? The memories came flooding back, choppy and distorted. There had been a woman. Small, beautiful and blonde. She’d tempted him. Driven him crazy. Bitten him. He’d taken her in the grass in the front yard. No. That couldn’t be right. He wouldn’t have done something as irresponsible as fucking a complete stranger, especially not in the middle of the yard. She’d felt so real, so alive. It couldn’t have been a dream. But it had to be. He vaguely remembered the soft kiss she’d dropped on his lips before she’d gathered her clothes and walked into the woods, remembered pulling his boxers back on and sinking into the hammock, his mind a mass of confusion. Sleep hadn’t helped clear up the chaos the woman had made of his emotions. If there’d been a woman at all. “Mr. Martin? Do you need me to call someone for you? You look all out of sorts.” He snapped his gaze back to Mrs. Morrow, his breath heaving in his chest. Nothing made sense. No explanation fit, except that it had all been an erotic dream. It had been

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so real. So amazing. But it was over now. He tried to shake off the residual lust. Welcome back to the real world, buddy. “I’m fine.” Wishing the ground would swallow me whole, but fine. His face flamed, his entire body blushing beet red. He couldn’t seem to shake the surreal feeling. “What can I do for you?” It was her turn to blush as her gaze traveled his body, clad in nothing but his black silk boxers. “Is the bed not suitable for you?” “It’s fine. I must have been tired last night. I guess I fell asleep out here.” He managed a small smile, though her stern expression didn’t waver. “You must have been real tired to sleep this long.” She clicked her tongue. “It’s a little past noon.” His eyes widened. What the hell? How had he managed to sleep so late on a hammock in the front yard? His body ached, spent from his night with his mystery woman. But could it all have been a dream? It had to be. A product of an overtaxed imagination combined with the stories the people of Hammond spread about the ghost that haunted the old house. The new book he’d been working on, a werewolf tale, and the fact that he hadn’t gotten laid in five years probably contributed to his strange, vivid dreams. “My husband thought you might enjoy some homemade bread.” Mrs. Morrow shook her head and gestured toward the house. “I left a loaf on the kitchen counter. Maybe you’re coming down with something. You should go inside and get some rest.” He couldn’t agree more. “Thanks.” “You’re welcome.” She started to walk away, but turned back to him before she reached her car. “Are you sure you’re all right?” “I’m fine. It’s stress.” Wasn’t that the truth. He shook his head, let out a deep sigh. She already thought he was crazy, probably thought he’d killed Sandra. He didn’t need to give her any more ammunition to crucify him like everyone else in his life had. He waited for her to drive away before he stood, stretched, and walked into the house. 19

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He dismissed thoughts of coffee and breakfast, stifled a yawn. Despite the late hour, he headed straight the bedroom, stripped out of his boxers, and collapsed on the soft white sheets. Last night’s events, whether real or imagined, had worn him out. Strange, since normally he’d be out of bed and on his morning run by six a.m. At noon, he would have already put in half a day of writing and been getting ready to break for lunch. Now his head spun, his stomach had tightened, and he could barely keep his eyes open. It felt like someone had stolen all his energy. Maybe he really was coming down with something. Or maybe the woman—the beautiful blonde who couldn’t be real—had done something to him to rob him of all his strength. Yeah, right. And when he watched the evening news he’d find out aliens had landed in Florida. It’s stress, buddy. Nothing more, nothing less. If he took a few days off to recuperate, he’d feel much better. Now, he needed more sleep. His cock had other ideas. At just the thought of her it had started tightening all over again. Now, as he closed his eyes and willed himself to rest, it grew painfully hard. Their encounter had lasted a matter of minutes, yet it had been the most incredible moment he could remember. He didn’t even know her name. Didn’t know if she had one, being a figment of his imagination. He tried to ignore the throbbing erection, but it was no use. If he wanted to get any sleep, he’d have to deal with the problem first. He slid his fist up and down his cock, the whole time replaying the night’s events over and over in his mind. Minutes later, when his body exploded in orgasm, his semen spurting from his cock to coat his hand and stomach, he still wasn’t able to let the memories go. Even as he slipped into a fitful sleep, his mind remained on the blonde who’d promised to fulfill his every fantasy.

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Trent set the quart of milk and evening paper on the worn wooden counter. The cashier of the little convenience store, an older man with salt-and-pepper hair and wise gray eyes, glanced at him. “You’re the man renting the old Morgan place, aren’t you?” “Yeah. That’s me.” Trent dug his wallet out of the back pocket of his denim shorts, fished out a ten and handed it to the man. The man’s gaze turned suspicious, the usual reaction when someone found out who Trent was. He’d never live it down. It didn’t matter to anyone that he’d been found not guilty. It didn’t matter to anyone how many times he proclaimed his innocence. They would never believe him. He’d been branded a murderer by the media, and not many people forgot that. Even in a small town like Hammond, most people had formed their opinions of him long ago. At least around here, they didn’t look at him with the same sick fascination with which people looked at circus sideshows. “You seen her yet?” The man’s question took Trent by surprise. He frowned. “Excuse me? Have I seen who?” “The ghost. Has she visited you yet?” Trent shook his head. “I don’t follow.” “Don’t tell me you haven’t heard the stories.” The man’s face broke out in a sly smile. “Everyone around here knows about her.” The hair on the back of his neck prickled and his blood ran cold. Could she have been the woman who visited his dreams last night? Could the Morgan place really be haunted by the spirit of a woman who visited men while the slept? “Who is she?” The man shrugged and pursed his lips in thought. “No one knows. She tempts men, and then hurts them. There are so many different stories floating around about her, but the most popular one is that she was killed by a jealous lover and her body was buried on the grounds. That’s why the house has been empty so long. Jean and Roger have tried to sell it a few times, but no one wants a haunted house.”

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Trent forced a laugh past his lips. “I don’t believe in haunted houses.” He took his change, grabbed his milk and paper, and headed for the door. “Thanks.” “You don’t believe? I’m surprised. You’ve dreamed up worse in those books you write.” The man’s words made Trent stop and turn. “It isn’t the same. There’s a very distinct line between reality and fiction.” “Open your mind.” The man’s expression turned dark. “Before it’s too late.” “I don’t understand what you’re saying.” “Legend says she’s hurt many men. Even killed a few. I know you’ve been through a lot in your young life. You don’t need the pain.” The man glanced down his nose at Trent, a serious expression on his face. “She’s always on the prowl, always looking for her next conquest. Don’t let yourself become her next victim.” “Believe me, sir. I don’t intend to be anyone’s victim.” Not ever again. He turned and walked out of the store, the strange, surreal feeling settling over him once again. Who was the woman? Had his mind conjured her, or was she real? Was she a ghost, like the town seemed to think? Or was she something much worse? That thought shook him more than it should have. Ghosts, as well as evil spirits, were merely figments of exceptional imaginations. He’d created more than a few monsters in his writing career, and would most likely create a few dozen more before his life was through. Provided he didn’t end up committed in a mental institution before then. He walked down the quaint, quiet Main Street to where he’d parked his car. The town seemed so peaceful, so serene. So much like he’d always imagined small-town America to be like. What lay underneath Hammond’s beautiful, old-fashioned façade? For the first time since arriving in town, he allowed himself to believe that all might not be as it seemed. But did that include his mystery woman?

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He’d just have to wait and see.

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Chapter Four Night had fallen hours ago, bathing the world in the soothing comfort and stillness that had been Eden’s life for so many years. She stood deep in the shadows of Trent’s bedroom, watching his chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm. Even in sleep he remained a tortured soul, his mind not allowing his body the rest it needed. How had he functioned all these years? How did he survive, when he had yet to break free of a past, of a woman who refused to let him go? She stepped over to the bed on silent feet, her heart going out to the beautiful man who had been burned so badly he might never recover. She knew what had happened to him. Though her access to the human world was limited, she wasn’t cut off completely. The invisible chains imprisoning her were just long enough for her to see what was going on around her, but short enough to keep her from participating in their daily lives. Though she could watch, she could only interact through their dreams. Anything else was forbidden. Trent hadn’t deserved what had happened. Hadn’t deserved to have his life as he knew it stolen from him so young. She reached out and ran her hand down the length of his arm. He stirred, but didn’t waken. If only she could take away his pain, do something to make him whole again. But that wasn’t to be. She was there to ease the ache inside herself. If it helped him forget all he’d been through, even for a little while, so be it. If not, well, there was nothing she could do about that. At least not anything the curse would allow. Her mouth watered at the thought of another taste of his warm, tangy blood. He’d filled her soul last night, filling her cunt with that huge cock at the same time. And the way he’d taken his pleasure—and hers—into his own hands… She’d loved every minute of it. Hadn’t wanted to leave. But before sunrise came, she would vanish from

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his world. It was the way things were. In nearly a century, she hadn’t been able to change that. There would be no changing it now. Not for Trent. Not for any man. Unless… She brushed the thin threads of hope away. Wishing would do her no good. Trent Martin, though tempting in so many ways, would not be the man to break the curse. Alec had seen to it that, unless some miracle happened, the curse would be unbreakable. She was doomed to her fate, doomed to spend her days in her dark, solitary existence and her nights hunting for the men who would provide her with the necessary ingredients to keep her alive. Blood, and sex. Energy. Life force. Trent’s was strong, despite all he had been through. What had he been like before his fiancée had been killed? She would have liked to have known him then. A soft sigh escaped her lips. In another time, another place, she would have liked to have known a man like Trent Martin. Her heart ached for more than her existence allowed. More than she’d ever had. More than she would ever know. Her lonely life didn’t hold much meaning for her. No pleasure beyond the quick sexual release. She wanted more. But she wouldn’t get it. Not with this man. Not with any of them. Soon she would tire of Trent, as she had with all the rest. And he would tire of her. He would move on, leave Hammond and the little cottage behind, and she would move on to her next victim. Why didn’t that ring true anymore? Why couldn’t she move past the beautiful, sensual man sleeping in the big bed? She’d had dozens of other men in that same bed, bending to her every whim. But Trent hadn’t allowed her that kind of control. He was different from the rest. Different enough to break the curse? Think of feeding. Think of fucking him into oblivion. Any other train of thought will only bring pain. She ran her hand down his face, down his side, and moved the sheet away to find him naked underneath. His sex lay nestled in a bed of dark, crisp hair, the length and girth impressive even at rest. She smiled. Yes. This was what she was here for. A taste of 25

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him. The feel of his weight against her palm. She cupped his balls in her hand, stroked the length of his cock. It hardened under her touch. Cream drenched her pussy and she bit back a moan. She leaned down and licked the head of his cock, swirling her tongue over the blunt tip. She moaned, didn’t even bother to hold it back this time. If she spent many more nights with him, she would be addicted to his taste. It was time to take what she needed, and give him what he craved in return. Her mouth left his shaft long enough for her to strip out of her dress—yet another long, simple white shift—before she came back to Trent’s incredible body. The bedsprings creaked as she knelt on the bed, straddling his legs, and returned her mouth to his cock. She worked her lips and tongue up and down his length, sucked him deep inside until he bumped the back of her throat. A soft groan turned her attention to his face. He still lay back against the pillows, unmoving, but his eyes were open. Dark and wary. Assessing. His body tensed. She released him from her mouth and smiled. “Hello, lover.” “Don’t call me that.” She laughed, though she had to force the sound past her lips. What had always been a game had now turned into something more. “Why not? Isn’t that what you are?” He shook his head. “No. What I am is crazy. I’ve lost my mind. That’s the only explanation for this.” He gestured to his straining cock. “Because you aren’t real.” She scooted up his body until her legs bracketed his hips, rubbed her wet pussy over his cock. “Does this feel real to you?” His eyelids slammed closed and he groaned. “Hell yes. I must really have lost my mind. This is nuts.” She had to agree. She shouldn’t want him awake. Shouldn’t want him aware. But she did. She wanted him to know everything that happened between them. The fact that he thought she wasn’t real shouldn’t upset her.

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But it did. She wanted him to know exactly how real she was. She took his cock in her hand, held him as she lowered her pussy over him. Inch by inch she accepted him inside, making sure he felt her moisture, every tremble of her desire. “Does this feel real to you, Trent?” “Yes.” The single word ended in a hiss, his hands coming to rest on her hips. He dug his fingers into her skin, drove up with his hips as he pulled her down to meet him. She grabbed his wrists, tugged them away from her skin and brought them over his head. His eyes widened in surprise, in lust, as she raised and lowered herself on his rigid shaft. “Keep them here,” she told him, meeting his gaze with her own—one she knew mirrored the desire in his eyes. Fire flared in his gaze, brilliant and strong, just before he wrenched his hands away from hers. In her surprise at his actions, she had no time to stop him before he’d flipped her to her back, his cock still buried deep within her. She struggled, wriggled against him, but he kept her pinned. He flexed his hips once, twice, driving his cock deeper inside her before stilling his thrusts. She moaned and pressed herself up against him, a riot of sensation exploding in her clit. He turned the tables on her so easily, set her off balance, and she let him. She didn’t understand why, but she knew as long as she visited him in the dead of night that it would be this way. He made her want things she’d never wanted, made her dream of impossible solutions to her problems. Made her wish even more for a way out of the curse that had plagued her for so many decades. But she didn’t dare ask for his help. He would have to offer it freely. Instead, she wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him even closer. Her nails scraped the skin of his arms and his shoulders, digging into the surface enough to cause him a twinge or two of pain. In response he bucked harder against her, kissing a trail of wet, openmouthed kisses down the side of her neck. He dipped his 27

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tongue into the hollows of her collarbone before continuing on to her breasts. He sucked a peaked nipple into his mouth, laved her with long, slow swirls of his tongue. Nipped her with his lips and teeth. Sparks of pleasure shot through her from her breasts straight to her cunt. Her nipple popped out of his mouth as he glanced up at her and gave her a sexy half-smile before taking the other nipple between his warm lips. He suckled her until she lost all sense of time, all sense of place. Until the world became her and Trent and all he could make her feel with just his mouth on her breasts and his cock buried in her cunt. But soon that wasn’t enough. She needed to feel the length of him moving deep inside her, stretching her, stroking her inner walls. “Trent, please. Please.” He groaned, began thrusting in an unpracticed, primal rhythm that echoed somewhere deep in her soul. She clung to his shoulders, held him close as he leaned in and brushed a hard kiss over her lips. His tongue snaked into her mouth, claimed and possessed as his cock hammered into her. The first stirrings of orgasm tightened her belly and she tightened her grip on his upper arms. Another groan escaped his lips, harsher than the first, and his thrusts grew shorter. Harder. More erratic. Just how she wanted them. Her last thoughts before she tumbled over the edge into a blinding orgasm were of Trent, and how she never wanted to let him go.

***** When Trent rolled to his back his mystery woman tried to sneak away, but he pulled her close and tucked her against his side. His world spun around him, his mind reeling with too many possibilities. His cock lay flaccid against his leg, as spent as the rest of his body. And yet, he still couldn’t accept any of this as genuine. He needed answers, needed her to confirm that he hadn’t lost his mind. The night before could

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have been a dream. But this felt real. Too real. It shook him to his core. “I’m not dreaming, am I?” “No. Not exactly. Though I doubt you’ll remember much about what happened when you wake.” Oh, I’ll remember. “I need to know your name.” She hesitated, glanced up at him with an anxious expression. “Eden.” Unusual, but it fit. “What are you, Eden?” “What do you mean?” In his sated, fatigued state, the question had slipped out before he had a chance to pull it back. “I feel like you’ve put some kind of a spell over me. Have you?” She didn’t answer for a long while, and Trent once again began to doubt his sanity. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he get past the strange feelings that welled inside whenever he looked at her? “Something like that.” She ran her fingers down the side of his chest, her nails lightly scraping the skin. “Tell me about her.” He froze—even his breathing stopped for a second. He finally sighed, but he didn’t relax. Couldn’t. Not when faced with such a direct question so soon after intimacy. “About who?” “The woman who caused you so much pain.” “What makes you think there’s a woman involved?” “I know the story, Trent. At least the part of the story the media gave.” His stomach clenched into a painful knot and his blood ran cold. So much for Eden fulfilling his every fantasy. Was there anywhere he could go where he wouldn’t be bombarded with questions and guilty glances? Even in this strange, dreamlike state, he wasn’t safe. “If you’ve heard the story, you must have access to a television.” Which meant she couldn’t be a ghost. Could she? 29

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“On rare occasions, I do.” A small, bitter laugh escaped her lips. “But not often.” “Where do you live?” His question took them both by surprise. He hadn’t intended to ask something so personal. She apparently didn’t intend to answer. “Nowhere you need to worry about.” She kissed his chest, stroked her fingers over his nipples. They hardened under her touch. “It might help relieve some of the pain, if you talk about the past.” “Nothing will relieve this pain.” A shudder ran through him, one he fought to tamp down. It had become such habit to hide his emotions that he no longer wanted to show anything. Not even to a woman the logical part of his brain wouldn’t allow himself to think of as real. “You never know.” She glanced up at him and smiled. He smiled in return, the muscles tight from disuse. Maybe she was right. Maybe that was the reason his mind had conjured her up—as a way to help him heal from past pains. It had been so long, forever since he’d had someone to talk to. Sandra had always helped him with his inner turmoil. But Sandra was gone. His mental walls slammed back into place. “Tell me about you. What are you?” How crazy have I become, to make up a woman who might not even be human? Her smile widened, turned mysterious and sensual. Her hand settled on his stomach, just above his groin. “I asked you first.” Yes, she had. He’d kept it all bottled up inside for so long. This might be his mind’s way of warning him—get it all out, or suffer the consequences. He’d never felt comfortable relating his side of the story to anyone—not after the police had gotten through with him. If he could speak to a woman in this dream-waking state, he might be able to finally open up about all that had happened and let some of the anger and pain go. “The media was right about one thing. Sandra and I had been having problems. But I’d thought we would be able to fix them. We would have been able to. I have no doubts about that.” His heart clenched as he thought of the last argument they’d had— 30

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the one just before she’d stomped out the door and driven away. “She walked out on me that night. I was furious. I said some things I regret. But I can’t take them back now that she’s dead.” If he’d known that would be the last time he’d see her, he would have gone after her. Would have begged her to stay. Arguments weren’t unusual for them. Sandra had always been dramatic, and since early childhood Trent had been dark and moody. They had argued well, but they made up even better. That last time wouldn’t have been any different, if she hadn’t been stabbed. Emptiness settled in his heart where there had once been grief. Five years had passed. She wasn’t coming back. He had moved in with his life, but the hollow ache still remained. “Did you love her?” “Yeah. But none of that matters now.” “Maybe it’s time you open your heart to someone else.” “I don’t think so.” But even as he said the words, he recognized them for the lies they were. If he could meet a woman who saw him for who he was, and not for what he’d been branded as. Sandra would always have a place in his heart, but in the past year, with the trial and all the publicity, he had learned he needed to move on. Eden… If only she was a real woman and not one his mind had created. She was no different than the characters in his books—real, flesh and blood for the time he needed them. But as soon as he finished the book and moved on to the next project, they disappeared from his mind and his life. “It’s time to move beyond what you see, what you accept as real.” She smiled. “You write about worlds that don’t exist. And yet, they do. You’re destined for more than your human life can offer you.” “What are you talking about?”

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She kissed his chest again. This time her tongue darted out to run over the skin, sending a shock through him. “You will know. Soon. The time isn’t right. Not yet. But it will be. The worlds you write about, they exist. The things you see, the things you imagine, they’re real. You have a gift.” “I don’t understand.” “Not many humans can see into the world beyond what society accepts as real. But you did. You do. It’s rare to find a human so accepting of the paranormal. Your life is destined for something other than what you have.” This was all too much. He shook his head, his mind fighting her words, refusing to accept them as anything but fodder for his next book. “What do you mean?” She shook her head. “I can’t say. Not yet. But trust me, Trent. There is so much more for you to discover.” She rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes. “I need to rest now. I’m tired. So tired. Of everything.” It wasn’t long before she drifted into sleep, her soft, even breathing soothing him into closing his eyes. Soon he followed her into a dark, dreamless sleep.

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Chapter Five Trent scrubbed his hand down his face and stifled a yawn. He pushed up from the mattress and stretched his arms over his head. The usual surreal feeling of the nights that had passed still hung over the world as they did every morning, casting doubt and suspicion in his mind. He had to be dreaming the whole thing, the affair with the beautiful woman who came to him every night. None of this could be real. None of it. And yet… No. He shook his head. It had to be some kind of twisted, erotic dream. A week had passed, and still he was no closer to a logical conclusion than he had been at the beginning. Eden wasn’t real. Everything she’d told him had been a product of his stressed mind. In the bright light of the day he was able to laugh at the dreams that had seemed so lifelike, the woman who had seemed so tangible. But the realism faded when he woke, as it always did in the past week she’d been visiting him in his dreams. It had been a week of what seemed like sleepless nights, loving and talking. Healing. The dreams, however strange, had the desired effect. His mind had never been clearer, and the hollow ache in his heart had been replaced. By Eden. No. He couldn’t allow that to happen. She’s no different from any other fictional character. All of his characters held special places in his heart, but he’d never felt so strongly attached to one as he did to her. He laughed at the insane direction of his thoughts, shook his head. “You need to get out more, buddy.”

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It was time to rejoin the real world, time to find a flesh and blood woman to share his life and his bed. But first, he had to find a way to banish the imaginary woman from his mind. He went into the bathroom and splashed water on his face. A thin streak of dried blood on his chest made him pause when he would have left the room. He wet a washcloth and wiped the blood away, dismayed at what he found underneath. Two small, even puncture wounds. Fang marks. His blood ran cold, his heart stopping in his chest. What the hell was going on? None of this could be real. Maybe it was time to find a good psychologist because he’d certainly lost his mind. No. This couldn’t be real. There had to be another explanation. He’d somehow cut himself last night. He ran a hand through his hair, his heart picking up pace until it threatened to beat out of his chest. He stumbled back into the bedroom and flopped onto the bed. In the past week, his life had grown strange. A quick glance at the clock confirmed some of his suspicions. Nearly sunset. He swallowed hard, tried to tamp down the uneasiness knotting his gut. He’d always been an early riser, yet since meeting Eden he’d started to adopt her schedule of long nights and sleep-filled days. All the evidence pointed to a truth he’d worked so hard to ignore. Eden wasn’t a figment of his imagination. She wasn’t a ghost who’d haunted the house for centuries, either. She was a vampire. Maybe something more. Now the stories he’d been hearing around town since moving into the cottage made sense. The truth settled into his gut like a ball of ice. Tonight he would have to confront her. He would find out the truth about her, and what she wanted from him. Even if it killed him. Or even if she did.

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***** Eden stepped into Trent’s bedroom, just as she had every night that week. She stripped out of her gown and dropped it by the door, continuing on toward the bed. She’d come to look forward to every moment she was allowed to spend with him, welcomed his touch, the gentle way he took control of their every encounter. She would be forced to leave him soon. The curse didn’t allow her to form attachments. But the thought of moving on to her next victim clenched her stomach in knots. For the first time in her life, she wanted to stay with a man, to learn everything about him, to tell him all about herself in return. She wanted something from Trent that she’d never wanted from another man. His heart. But that wasn’t to be. She pushed aside her hopes, brushed away the tears threatening to fall, and stopped in front of his bed. His empty bed. She swallowed hard. Where is he? Could he have discovered her secret? He walked out of the shadows in the far corner of the room and started toward her, stopping by the end of the bed. In sleep, he was devastating. Awake, he was a force to be reckoned with. Now he stood, fully clothed and looking dangerous in black jeans and a matching t-shirt, his hip propped against the footboard and his arms crossed over his chest. He didn’t smile. His stormy expression settled hard in the pit of her stomach, turning her blood ice-cold. “You’re here.” His words dripped with disdain, and it sent a twinge of pain through her heart. “Did you expect me not to come?” He raised a single dark brow. “To tell you the truth, I didn’t know what to expect. You have a way of shocking me every time I least expect it.” Her eyes widened. “What are you talking about?” He couldn’t have figured out her secret. She’d been so careful. No. She hadn’t. She’d allowed her hopes to take over, allowed true self to show to him. Allowed him to take her while fully awake instead of just in the spell-like dreams. 35

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She had tried to make his memories foggy and distorted, but she should have been more careful. His imagination was strong. He was easily able to put the memories back together in a way that made sense. She hadn’t taken precautions with his memories as she should have, and now he would push her away. The thought hurt much more than it should. She should turn and leave, never come back. Let him form his own conclusions about what she was and what she had done to him. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t walk away, couldn’t bring herself to leave him. Not now. Not when he looked at her with such hatred in his eyes, an expression that would be forever burned into her brain. She tried to smile, but failed. “You’re awake. Why, when it’s so late?” “You tell me. What have you done to me that makes me sleep all day? I found puncture wounds on my chest today. Would you care to explain that to me?” His voice rose with every question until it thundered through the room. “Tell me, Eden. Tell me what the hell is going on.” She couldn’t. Wouldn’t. “You aren’t supposed to be awake.” “I kinda gathered that from your actions over the past week. Talk to me, Eden. Tell me. Make me understand, before I decide to do something stupid like strangle you.” “You couldn’t hurt me.” Blatant challenge passed over his face. “Oh, I think I could. Very easily. I may have shown you a weakness or two of mine, but you’ve shown me yours, too.” “No.” A cold, angry smile passed over his expression. “Yes. You think you can hide yourself from me, but you can’t. You talk of sex, of fantasies, of fulfilling my wildest dreams, but that isn’t what you want, is it? You want companionship. Trust. You want love. Am I wrong?” She bit the inside of her lip, refused to answer such telling questions. How had he known?

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He continued when she remained silent. “I understand your pain. It’s what I feel inside me as well. You haven’t been able to hide it from me, because I know what real pain looks like. I know what it feels like, in here.” He thumped his chest with his fist. “Now tell me what’s going on. You owe it to me with the way you’ve been using me.” She sighed in defeat. How had he known, when every other man had chosen to ignore her silent cries for help? Because he’s the one who will finally break the curse. The truth echoed inside her, clamoring to break free. She glanced into his eyes, saw the tenderness past the darkness, and knew. She had finally found the man to free her from the hell she’d been living in. Now she just had to convince him of that. “What do you want to know?” “Oh, I don’t know. Start at the part where you forgot to tell me you’re a vampire.” He snorted, glared at her. “Or would that be a succubus?” She sucked in a sharp breath. “That’s what you are, isn’t it? The legends are all true. All that research I’ve done…” His voice trailed off and he shook his head. “Tell me, Eden.” “Yes, it’s true. I’m exactly what you accuse me of being. But I’m sure all of your research isn’t correct.” “So you don’t seduce men, drink their blood and steal their energy and then leave them cold?” Not anymore. “I didn’t want to leave you. It killed me to do so, every night.” A tear slipped down her cheek, something foreign to her. She swiped it away. “I wanted to stay.” “So why didn’t you?” “Because I can’t.” “Does it have to do with sunlight?” She shook her head. “No. It’s…a curse. Nearly a century ago, a powerful demon wanted my affections. I shunned him, and he cursed me to an eternity of nothingness. 37

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In daylight hours I live in a void, a world of total and complete desolation. Only at night am I allowed my freedom. But it’s freedom with a price—the hunger that I can’t ignore. I can leave here, at night, but when daylight comes I’m pulled back to this place once again.” Some of the darkness faded from his expression. “You can’t leave here at all?” She shook her head. “Not for any length of time.” “So it isn’t a ghost who haunts this house. It’s you.” He pushed away from the bed and came to stand in front of her. His finger ran down her jaw. “What will it take to break this curse, Eden? What will it take to set you free?” “Emotion. Pure, honest, tender emotion. Happiness. Untainted by what I am, what I need to do.” Alec had told her, before he sentenced her to her doom, that she would need to find out what true happiness was about in order to set herself free. She’d never understood, not until she’d met Trent and come alive in his arms. Something flashed in his eyes before his expression went blank, cold again. “Happiness.” He seemed to contemplate her words, turning them over and over in his mind for a long time before he spoke a single word. “Eden.” “Yes?” Would he send her away, now that he knew the truth? Now that he was awake and had the power to make his own decisions? “How long have you been cursed?” She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue, crossed her arms over her bare breasts. “Almost a hundred years.” “And in all that time, you’ve never found out what real happiness is?” “The curse and its limitations have always prevented it.” Until now. “The men I visit know me only in sleep. As nothing more than an erotic dream. When they wake, the only memories they have of me are vague, shadowed in doubt.” “Not mine.”

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“But—” He held up his hand, shook his head. “I always remembered everything. In detail. And I’m not under any kind of a spell tonight. And I think I want to take advantage of that.” She frowned. “Excuse me?” “I want you when I’m awake.” Before she had a chance to back away he pulled her into his arms and crushed her lips with his. His kiss started out hard, punishing, but soon grew soft. Coaxing. Gentle. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him tighter against her, all the while hoping he wouldn’t come to his senses and push her away. He didn’t seem to have that intention. The rough denim of his jeans brushed her bare skin. Her nipples pebbled. His palms cupped her breasts, molding their weight, and a gush of cream flooded her cunt. His thumbs brushed her nipples, sending little shocks of pleasure through her. When one of his hands left her breast to trail down her stomach to the thatch of curls covering her mound, she arched into his touch. Yes. Right there. He didn’t disappoint. His finger slid between her folds, spreading her moisture, brushing her clit in a gentle touch that agitated her, stirred her arousal but did nothing to bring her closer to orgasm. And then his hands were gone, and her body cried out at the sudden loss. She blinked up at him, shook her head. “What’s the matter?” “I have to taste you.” His voice was nearly a groan. “Get on the bed.” He stepped back and stripped out of his clothes. Once she’d settled herself on her back on the soft mattress, he nudged her legs apart and brought his face to her dripping cunt. He drew a deep breath and sighed with appreciation. “Incredible.” A shiver raced through her and she moaned. His finger traced her swollen outer folds before circling her entrance. He slid one finger, then two inside. At the same time, he brought his mouth down on her clit. He sucked the hard nub between his lips, 39

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rolling, suckling, driving her mad. Her hands flew to his head and tangled in his hair, holding him to her in case he got the idea to pull away. Nothing she’d ever felt could compare to having Trent between her legs, driving her closer and closer to orgasm with each thrust of his fingers and each movement of his strong, firm lips. She knew it wouldn’t last, that he would no longer want her once he’d had a chance to think about what she was. She would enjoy every minute of the time she had left with him. She would cling to it later, when she had to learn to live outside the realm of the dark world she’d shared with no one for so long. His tongue flicked over her clit, back and forth, up and down, as his fingers increased tempo. Her body tightened, writhed under him until she exploded into an orgasm that left her breathless. She panted, tugged at his hair to get him to stop, but still he laved, wringing out every last aftershock of exquisite pleasure. Only when she dropped her hands limply back to the mattress did Trent come up to cover her with his strong body. He kissed her as he pushed his cock inside her stillpulsing cunt. She tasted herself mingled with his unique taste on his tongue. She lifted her hips to meet his every gentle stroke, ran her hands down his back to cup his ass in her palms. And then he rolled onto his back, taking her with him. Her legs straddled his hips, his hands guiding her into a fierce, pounding rhythm. Her breasts bounced, her hair flew around her face. She moaned, ran her hands down the expanse of his chest. Scraped her nails over his flat nipples. Her actions earned a harsh groan from his lips. He thrust his hips upward to meet her each time she came down on top of him, his fingers digging into her skin. She would have bruised, had her body been prone to such human problems. The slight pain only increased her arousal, nudging her toward another climax. “Fuck. I’m close,” he ground out, squeezing his eyes closed. His face was a study in control—tight, thin lips, set jaw, straining muscles. “I need to come.” “Do it. I’m ready.”

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His finger found her clit and stroked. Once, twice and she shattered around him, her body bucking wildly until she feared she might lose her balance and fall to the mattress. Trent anchored her to him with one strong hand as he stiffened beneath her. Her name was on his lips when he came, bathing her cunt with hot spurts of semen. Her cunt quivered around him, milking every drop from his pulsing shaft. She collapsed onto his chest, her body heated and shaking, a thin layer of sweat coating her skin. His heart beat against her ear. His hand came up to caress her hair as he murmured soft, unintelligible words. As she lay wrapped in the warm strength of his arms, worry welled inside her. What if she was wrong? What if the curse wasn’t really broken? What then? She would just have to wait out the morning and find out.

***** Eden perched on the end of the bed, waiting for the spell to pull her away from Trent once again. She didn’t need to look past the drawn curtains to know the sun had risen, bathing the world in brilliant light. Past time for her to go. But the darkness never came. The cold, suffocating box didn’t envelop her. She’d been right—Trent had broken the curse. She should be happy. Ecstatic. Yet she waited, silent and anxious, for Trent’s reaction. As if on cue, he blinked his eyes open. A confused look passed over his eyes before he shot a brief glance to the clock. “You’re still here.” She nodded. “I thought, after last night, you would leave and not come back. Isn’t that what you do?”

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She shook her head. “I never wanted to leave you. Not once. I was forced. Once the sun rises, I have no choice.” He nodded, though she knew he didn’t quite understand. “So what’s changed?” “You changed me. You changed the way I see the world, the way I feel about everything. I want you. Nothing else.” “You can’t mean that.” “But I do. You make me happy, truly happy, and that was enough to break the hold the curse had over me. I’m free now.” A tear slipped down her cheek. This time, she didn’t bother to bat it away. “Thank you, Trent. Thank you for everything.” Trent swallowed. He opened his arms and she dove into them, burrowing her head against his chest. He stroked her hair with his palm, spoke soothing words in her ear. “Are you going to leave, now that you’re able?” Not if he didn’t want her to. But if he did…there was only one way to find out. She drew a deep breath for courage. “I don’t want to go anywhere. Not right now. I…I want to know you. I want to spend time with you. If you want the same thing.” She glanced up at him to find him smiling. “I do. This is strange, like something right out of one of my books, but I want you to stay.” A smile broke over her face and laughter bubbled up from her chest. Now, for the first time, she saw the curse for what it was. Alec hadn’t been trying to punish her. He’d been trying to teach her a lesson. To show her a different path her life could take. It had taken her almost a hundred years to find out the true meaning, but she had a feeling Trent would be well worth the wait.

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Epilogue Trent stroked his fingers down Eden’s back, loving the play of his calloused hands against her soft as silk skin. A year had passed since the first night she’d come to him and seduced him in the cottage’s front yard. The cottage he now owned, along with the woman he’d pledged the rest of his life to. His “wife” according to the people living in town. They’d accepted her as they’d accepted him—with wary glances and whispers, but he’d come to expect that living in a place like Hammond. And strangely enough, it felt like home. They wouldn’t be able to stay in Hammond forever, though. A few years down the road, people would start questioning why the couple who owned the cottage didn’t age. She’d given him so much, dragged him out of despair and given him back his life. When she’d told him of a way they could have forever together, he hadn’t even had to think about it. He’d taken her up on her offer. He nearly laughed at the thought. Ironic that he’d become one of the creatures straight out of his books. She stirred against his touch, glanced up at him with sleepy eyes. “What time is it?” “A little after nine.” “What are you doing up so early? You usually like to sleep in at night.” He ran his tongue over the sharp fangs that had elongated in his mouth. “I was hungry. Wanna go get a snack?” Eden giggled and playfully slapped his arm. “I think that can be arranged. Give me fifteen minutes to shower and get dressed.” He lay in bed for a long time after she left the room, listening to the chirp of crickets and the waves breaking in the distance. He had learned so much in the past year, so many things about the world beyond what ordinary humans saw. It never ceased to 43

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amaze him. Much of what he’d dismissed as fiction turned out to have some basis in fact. And Hammond was just as haunted as the townsfolk claimed. “Trent?” Eden called through the open bathroom door. “Are you going to join me sometime tonight? I don’t want to wait until I run out of hot water here.” He laughed. Ever demanding, that woman of his. She kept him on his toes. “Coming, dear.” They both would be soon. He walked into the bathroom and stepped into the shower stall. Eden was waiting for him, a sly smile on her face. She didn’t say a word, just dropped to her knees in front of him. His gut clenched in anticipation. As usual, she made him wait. Kept him on edge, her hands cupping his ass cheeks and her fingers digging into the muscle. Her eyes gleamed with a predatory light as she sized him up, finally licking her lips. And then her tongue swiped over the head of his cock. A shiver of icy warmth raced up the length of his spine. He groaned, tangling his fingers in the wet strands of her hair. She sucked him deep, as deep as she could take him, before she pulled out and blew on the head in the way that always made him want to bang his head against the wall from the sheer, torturous pleasure of it. “You always know how to make me crazy.” A giggle escaped her lush lips. “And I always will.” His body responded to the sexy rasp in her voice, his hips canting toward her. Another few minutes of this and he’d come. He wanted to be inside her, and since the small space inside the shower stall didn’t allow it, he’d have to get her back to bed. Her lips started to close over his cock again, but he pulled her head away. He grabbed her hands and tugged, pulling her to her feet. She blinked at him. “What are you doing?”

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He led her out of the stall and grabbed a towel from the rack on the wall, blotting some of the moisture from her body, and then from his. “The shower’s too small for what I want to do to you. I’m taking you back to bed.” Heat flashed in her eyes and she smiled, but she shook her head. “We’re both still wet. My hair is dripping. It’ll get the sheets wet.” “They’ll dry. Bed, Eden. Now.” She rushed ahead of him into the bedroom, her delectable ass swaying as she hurried. He licked his lips. He couldn’t wait to sink his teeth into all that soft, silky flesh. She turned when she reached the bed and he couldn’t help but be struck by how beautiful she was. Her alabaster skin fairly glowed in the darkness. Her soft lips. Her hair hanging in wet tangles to her waist, framing her full breasts, curling softly around her pebbled nipples. Lust smacked him in the gut, as it always did when he looked at her, but now it was entwined with something far deeper. Love for the woman he’d pledged his life to. Love for how she’d shown him it was okay to live again. He’d never get enough of her. Her gaze turned questioning. “Trent?” “Huh?” “Is something wrong?” “Nope. Just looking.” “That’s nice, but do you think you could get to touching sometime tonight?” She only had to ask him once. Chuckling, he stepped toward the bed, toward his woman, and pulled her into his arms. His lips found hers, pressed against them as his body pressed against her. Heat raced through him, hardening his cock even more, if possible. He felt a drop of pre-cum leak from the tip. He wouldn’t last long tonight. He broke the kiss and stepped back. “Lay down on your back.” Without a word, she complied. He smiled. Good girl. “Spread your legs.”

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Slowly, teasingly, Eden parted her thighs to expose the pink folds of her cunt. She rested her feet on the mattress, knees bent, exposing her fully to his gaze. His cock twitched, wanting to get to her—to get into her. His shoulder muscles bunched in need and anticipation. He dropped to his knees in front of her and brought his face close to her, licking the inside of her thigh. She let out a small sigh, filled with as much frustration as it was arousal. The emotions echoed inside him and he leaned in closer—but still not quite touching. “What do you want me to do, Eden? Do you want a quick, hard fuck, or do you want this to last?” She lifted her head off the bed, her eyes glittering in the darkness. Her hands flew to his head, drawing him closer until his lips brushed her cunt. “Eat me. And then fuck me fast.” “Selfish.” He drew his tongue up the length of her slit. “Yeah, and you love it that way.” Her words ended on a gasp as he parted her folds with his fingers and nipped at her clit, his teeth covered with his lips. He did love her that way, loved everything about her. Especially the way she tasted. Musky, sweet and salty. Perfect. And the way she responded to him…he’d never get enough. He stroked and plucked her hard little clit with his tongue, lips, and teeth until she writhed against him. Only then did he replace his mouth with his thumb, pressing down on the nub of flesh as he stabbed his tongue deep into her cunt. One stroke, two—that was all it took for her to come. She bucked against him hard, her fingers tightening in his hair until he wondered if she’d tear some of it out. He welcomed the pain. In the past year, it had become a big part of his arousal. She was rough, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He pressed harder with his thumb, moving it in slow circles. Her screams echoed through the room, mixing with his panting breaths. Only when her spasms subsided did he pull his mouth away from her sweet flesh and move up her body. He kissed her, 46

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hard and fast, stroking his tongue into her mouth to make sure she tasted herself on him. Eden closed her eyes and moaned. “God, Trent. Sometimes I think you’re trying to kill me.” “Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you.” He flopped to his back on the mattress. Tension thrummed through his whole body, centering on his cock. He was so hard now that it lay flush with his stomach, reaching nearly to his navel. If she didn’t do something about it soon, he might explode. “Eden?” She blinked her eyes open and turned her head to look at him. “I thought I was gonna get it hard and fast.” “You still want it that way? Be my guest.” With a husky laugh, Eden took the hint. She climbed on top of him, straddling his hips, and rubbed her soaked pussy up and down the length of his cock. Then she positioned him at her entrance and slid down. A hissing breath tore free from his throat. She enveloped him so completely, it felt right. He couldn’t explain it any other way. This tiny woman was a perfect fit. He gripped her hips to guide her rhythm, but she batted his hands away. “Didn’t you just turn over control to me?” He let his hands drop back to the mattress as his cock surged, growing even thicker inside her. The prospect of letting her take charge thrilled him more than he’d ever admit. “Yeah.” “Then keep your hands to yourself.” He laughed. That would last for all of about five seconds. Her strokes were too slow, far too long to drive him any closer to orgasm—and she knew it. She kept him hovering too close to the edge, waiting for her to take him over, touching him nowhere other than where they were joined and not letting him touch her. It was sheer hell, and he loved every second.

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But his patience only lasted so long. Desperation urged his hands back to her hips. Before she had a chance to protest, he pulled her down hard and rammed himself up into her at the same time. She screamed again, this one as much out of surprise as arousal. A wave of lust rushed through him as he watched the emotions play over her face. She was close to coming again, and he wanted to do it with her this time. “Come on, Eden. Ride me hard.” With a sexy smile, she complied, lifting herself up and down the length of his cock, coming halfway up before she slammed down again. He matched each of her movements with a thrust of his own. The sounds of bare flesh slapping against bare flesh filled the room, mingled with their moans and erratic breathing. He bent his legs, moving them apart and bringing his cock deeper into that warm, wet cunt. When she arched her back, rested one hand on the mattress and cupped his balls with the other, he knew it was all over. He couldn’t last another second, whether she was ready to come or not. A strangled moan escaped him and a rush of heat traveled from his head to the tips of his toes. His balls drew close to his body and he thrust up hard, holding her in place as he jetted hot bursts of semen inside her. She sat up over him again and raked her nails down his chest, paying particular attention to his nipples. And then she leaned down and bit him, hard enough to break the skin. The tremors started in his body all over again, milking every drop of semen from him as she licked and suckled at the wound she’d made. “Fuck, Eden. Do you have any idea how good that feels? How good you feel?” Her only answer was a laugh. She gave his chest a quick kiss and lay down on top of him, his sated cock still inside her. “I know how good you feel.” She lifted her head, resting her chin on his chest. “I love you, Trent.” “I love you, too. I always will.” And he intended to spend forever proving it.

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About the author Born in Gloucester, Massachusetts, Elisa Adams has lived most of her life on the east coast. Formerly a nursing assistant and phlebotomist, writing has been a longtime hobby. Now a full time writer, she lives on the New Hampshire border with her husband and three children.

Elisa welcomes mail from readers. You can write to her c/o Ellora’s Cave Publishing at 1337 Commerce Drive, #13, Stow, OH 44224.

Also by Elisa Adams: Dark Promises: Demonic Obsession Dark Promises: Flesh and Blood Dark Promises: Midnight Dark Promises: Shift of Fate Dirty Pictures Dream Stalker In Darkness In Moonlight anthology Just Another Night

Discover for yourself why readers can’t get enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora’s Cave. Whether you prefer e-books or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you breathless.

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