Fangs

by Anna Katmore

  I can’t believe that he did this for me. That he actually remembered what I told him about my childhood while he was clearly on the brink of starvation. I sigh and loop my hands around his neck, resting my forearms easily on his shoulders. Gazing up into his deep blue eyes, I whisper, “It’s perfect.”

  A male voice fills the hall, singing the song with a Gaelic accent. “Interesting choice of music,” I point out since this song is usually played on New Year’s Eve and not at vampire balls—or so I believe.

  “It’s the only slow song on my playlist,” he replies with a grimace that makes him look incredibly cute. Then he rolls his eyes. “And I spent hours today just trying to find it.”

  “Thank you,” I whisper, because what else is there to say to such sweetness?

  His hands wander to the small of my back, holding me tighter as we keep dancing in the middle of the hall in a circle of candlelight. My body is pressed flush against his, and I can feel each of his firm muscles as he moves. His unique scent of midnight adventure envelops me and strokes beautiful images awake in my mind. Being so close to him reminds me of the night that I lay half on top of him, and he sank his teeth into my neck. Even without the feeding part, this special bond of nearness between us seems to take form again. Pleasant thrills zing through me, leaving behind a layer of goosebumps on my bare arms.

  Beside us, the hearth comes to life with a sizzle, bright flames lighting the hall even more. The warmth creeps across the floor and climbs up my legs, heating my skin.

  Did he do this for the goosebumps? “I wasn’t cold,” I tell him truthfully, unable to look away from his eyes.

  “I know…” His soft voice paired with his intense gaze awakens the tiny bats in my stomach again. I can do nothing to keep them still. And they make me think really stupid things. Especially when I look at his gorgeous half-smile. Boy, why does he have to be a vampire? The night could be so beautiful if he were just an ordinary guy. Someone who ages, who likes to sunbathe, and who enjoys fish and chips instead of literal bloody Marys. If he were, I’m sure he would kiss me right now, and we would see where things could go.

  But then he wouldn’t have been sent to Romania by his uncle, and we wouldn’t be dancing in Dracula’s castle to begin with. Why must everything be so complicated when you’re falling in love with a vampire?

  “Abby?”

  “Hmm?” Ripped out of my thoughts, my gaze snaps back to his face.

  “Please don’t freak out now…but your mind got really loud just then.”

  I don’t understand. Until his look turns so sheepish that I freeze on the spot, feeling how the color drains from my face and then blood shoots back into my cheeks, turning them bright and burning.

  Oh my God!

  Chapter 26

  Anyway

  Quentin

  “You heard what I was thinking?” Abby squeaks, her face flushed in the candlelight. In a panic, she pulls her arms from my shoulders and steps away, but I catch her hands and hold her back.

  “Not exactly heard. It was more like you projected some images,” I softly tell her the truth. And they were beautiful. I don’t know how she did it, but it started a minute ago when she shivered. She must have been caught up in memories and just let them loose, and I wasn’t even trying to get into her mind. All of a sudden, we were surrounded by a field of purple flowers in the hall. She let me see how I held her the night she offered me her blood. Let me feel how much she enjoyed the moment of us being connected in that intense way when I sank my teeth into her throat. With the projection, she raised an unexpected warmth inside of me that made the flames in the fireplace jump to life.

  And then, suddenly, we were kissing in the field of flowers in her mind.

  I think that’s what she wants.

  “Jeez! This is so…wrong!” Abby yanks her hands free and spins to the door. She clearly wants to escape, but I can’t let her go.

  Before she opens it, I’m there, holding the panel closed with one palm braced on the wood from behind her shoulder. “Please don’t run away now.”

  Her fingers slip from the handle, and she pivots to me, leaning against the door. “What exactly did you see?”

  I press my lips together, scrunching up my face in a sheepish way. She gets the hint and groans.

  “I know it must be uncomfortable to have someone else see your thoughts—”

  “Uncomfortable?” she croaks and covers her face with her hands, banging the back of her head against the wood.

  “Shocking,” I correct and carefully peel her hands away from her face so she has to look into my eyes again. “But I want you to know that the moment you let me…” Drink? Feed? Bite you? I pause. “It was really special for me, too.”

  Abby lowers her lashes, escaping my gaze. “That doesn’t make this situation any less humiliating.”

  “I don’t believe there’s anything humiliating about this.” I step closer until our bodies touch like they did when we danced. The music still creates a soft, cottony bubble around us, and her heart beats loudly. With a sigh, I lean my brow against hers. “If there weren’t so many obstacles in the way, I’d have kissed you last night in your room.”

  I close my eyes, feeling her soulful breath on my skin. If ever—over the span of my two lifetimes—there was a girl I wanted to be near, it’s Abigail Potts, the little vampire torturer from Britain. She makes me feel happy and at ease, even if she comes with a pocket air horn and a broken piece of wood to keep me at bay. If it were only about me, I would kiss her now, ask her to be my girlfriend, then talk her into the change and spend the rest of our vampire lives together. But how could I ever drag such a lovely, bright spirit into a dark world like mine?

  “I’m not good for you, Abby,” I rasp, squeezing my eyes shut even tighter before I open them again to look into her gingerbread gems.

  Understanding lies in her gaze. But also longing. And affection. “No, you aren’t,” she answers in a low voice.

  I breathe in her sweet scent, skimming the tip of my nose across her cheekbone. “We live in two different worlds.”

  Very slowly, she nods.

  I intertwine our fingers. My gaze lowers to Abby’s lips. “It would never work.”

  “I know…” she whispers.

  And then I don’t give a damn about what’s between us—an ocean, the sun, or one thousand years. Because she’s all I want right now. I gently touch my mouth to hers, closing my eyes, feeling how her fingers tighten around mine. Abby opens her lips for me, no escaping, no holding back. My tongue meets hers, softly and sweetly. She tastes of cookies, of sunshine, of hope, and adventure.

  I let go of her hands to pull her into a tight embrace. Abby moves her arms around my neck, her fingertips stroking my sensitive skin. The passion she ignites within me takes my breath away and makes me kiss her even harder. The fire in the hearth bursts up, warming the hall like the kiss warms my insides.

  When Abby lets herself go, unleashing her emotions, a myriad of purple imagination flowers spring up all around us, creating the feeling of coming home. I want to stay here forever.

  No matter what kind of hurdles we may face, this moment is worth everything. I dig my fingers into her spine, letting loose a low growl when she kisses me senseless. The sound dies in her mouth as she licks it right off my tongue. Damn, she almost has me on my knees.

  Sucking on her bottom lip, I slowly detach from the kiss and inch back to look into her eyes. Abby breathes softly. There’s a very small smile at the corners of her lips. I reach for her hands and gently tug her back with me to the middle of the hall. “Don’t go….” I beg her again and bring her hands up to the back of my neck where I lace her fingers. Then I caress down her arms and her sides until my palms rest on her hips again. Softly, I sway her to the final chords of the song, touching my forehead to her brow. “Just for tonight, let’s pretend there’s not an eternity between us.”

  As if her options weigh a ton, Abby heaves a deep sigh. But she fastens her hands
tighter around my neck and leans her head on my shoulder, giving a gossamer nod.

  I rest my cheek against her temple, closing my eyes as the music fades. Holding her like this feels almost as good as kissing her. Even though we stopped dancing in the candle circle, I don’t want to let her go.

  Now or ever.

  Chapter 27

  What’s the cure?

  Abigail

  We amble through the huge castle garden in the moonlight, our fingers loosely intertwined. I wanted Quentin to get out and breathe some fresh air since he was locked down in the castle all day. He said the woods are too dangerous for me right now, but this place should be safe enough. I closed the iron gate when I came, and wolves shouldn’t be able to open it or jump over. Still, he slipped a silver dagger with a black hilt through the belt at his back before we left.

  I like the silence out here, and the mild air. Quentin gave me one of his black hoodies to wear over my dress so I wouldn’t be cold. It smells of him, and I deeply breathe in the beguiling scent. Then I lift my face to the sky.

  Nights have never really been my favorite time, but since I met this fascinating vampire, I’ve started to see the moon and the sparkling stars with different eyes. They are beautiful—right there in front of me yet so far away. Just like Quentin…

  I miss his lips. The kiss in the hall with the candles and the music, it was by far the best moment of my entire life. I don’t think I’ve ever really been in love before, but I believe I am now. And my heart grows wings when I think about how gently he held me even after the song ended.

  I wish he was human, so we could kiss and hold each other like this every single day.

  “That’s a nice one,” Quentin says with a low voice next to me. I look up at him, but I have no idea what he means. He strokes his knuckles along my chin. “Every time you get lost in your thoughts, you project.”

  Oh, crap! I let him read my mind again. “That’s so terrible,” I whine, clapping my hands over my face.

  “No, it’s not.” With a soft laugh, he drapes his arm around my shoulders and tucks me to his side. “But if you want to keep your secrets, you should try not to let your mind drift off too far.”

  Lips compressed, I nail him with a sideways glance.

  Quentin steers me toward the small round stone well that still has an aged wooden bucket fastened on a crankshaft above the opening. He half sits on the edge of the well, legs spread, and pulls me closer so I stand between his knees. “I like your images,” he tells me quietly, still holding my hands. “They’re cozy.”

  I grimace wryly. “Because you’re human in them?”

  “No.” He smiles. “Because I’m with you in them.”

  After a deep sigh, my gaze drops to my toes, hidden in the long grass. “There really is no way to make this work, is there?”

  A long moment passes in silence. Then I hear the defeat in his words when he speaks. “I wouldn’t know how.”

  Yeah, me either.

  I let go of him and start walking again. Without a word, Quentin follows me, hands shoved into his pockets now. “But we can still spend the summer together,” he suggests. “Make the best of the time we have.”

  “And then go back to England, alone and heartbroken, when the summer comes to an end?” Honestly, I think getting attached to him over the next weeks—even more than I already am—is the worst thing I could do to myself.

  “You’re right, it wouldn’t make things exactly easier.” Head low, he kicks a molehill apart, the dirt scattering everywhere. “So, what’s your option? Not coming back to the castle for the rest of the summer?”

  It might be the best way to save my heart. But, hell, I know I won’t be able to stay away even a day if there’s a chance to be with him. I lift my chin, studying him with a tilt of my head as we reach a part of the garden that almost feels like a small forest with its cluster of trees. “What if we try to find a cure for your…vampirism?”

  From the corner of his eye, Quentin sends me a thoughtful look that suddenly turns a little mischievous. He waggles his eyebrows. “The cure would be to change you into a vampire.”

  Yeah, right. “You know that isn’t going to happen.” My laugh echoes in the night as we walk deeper into the little copse of trees.

  “Why not?” God, he actually pouts now, and I want to kiss it away. “Being a vampire is really not all that bad.”

  Granted, there might be some advantages to being super strong, immortal, and having exceptional senses. But there’s one thing that kills all the romance in that for me, and it’s not even the daylight-slash-nightshade thing. “I would have to drink blood, Quentin. Blood! You can wax poetic about your vampire life all you want, but I will never, ever swallow even a single drop of anybody’s blood. Period.”

  “But you enjoyed it when I did it with you.”

  “Yes.” I can hardly deny that one. “But there’s a difference between being the predator and the donor.”

  With a dangerous smirk, he suddenly crowds me against a tree. “So, you like to play the passive part, Abigail…?”

  As much as one can savor being bitten, I guess. Using my hands as a buffer behind my bottom, I grin up at his face. “Comes in handy for you, doesn’t it?”

  “Very…” he drawls. “Just so you know, I haven’t yet fed tonight.”

  I don’t like the thought that he might go to town for a bite after taking me home later. It makes me reckless in a strange way, especially when he dips his head so close that I can breathe in his enticing scent. “Are you hungry?” I tease him with a tight smile.

  Quentin shapes his palm to my cheek and runs his thumb across my bottom lip, following the line with the tip of his tongue. “For you? Always!” he growls against my mouth.

  Because I’m a little afraid that he’s going to pinch my lip and suck from me there, I gently push him back one step. Shoving the sleeve of the hoodie up a little, I offer him my wrist, which is, after all, where he bit the young gothic guy last night.

  With his focus on my eyes, he grabs my forearm and brings it to his mouth. My heart begins to beat a little faster with nervous anticipation. “No,” he murmurs against my skin. “This is the polite way to do it…” His tongue swirls over the spot where my pulse beats under the skin. The sensation is warm and soft and gives me thrills. After he finishes the caress with a kiss, he releases my wrists and drags the collar of my hoodie down a little instead. He gently bites into my shoulder without his fangs extended.

  I can feel his warm breath on my skin as he kisses a line up my throat. He licks over my carotid and gives it a hard, hickey-like kiss before he groans, “And this is the really good way.” His fingers dig into my waist, pulling me tighter against him, right before his fangs pierce my neck with a quick double-sting. The pain subsides quickly, but a different kind of aching desire pools, in a much lower part of my body. A strange need grows in my belly, spreading from there.

  Quentin grabs me harder, and I wonder what kind of image I’m projecting into his mind that coaxes the fervid moan of pleasure from him.

  His fangs retract, and his mouth detaches from my neck. Warm blood trickles from the puncture wounds. He runs his hand down over the curve of my bottom, and then lower to the back of my thigh before he shoves his hand under my dress and lifts my leg, half wrapping it around his waist. The blue of his irises burns in the night as he looks at me with a hunger that I can feel all too keenly myself.

  With my hands in his hair, I tilt my head back so my neck is bared to him once more. Quentin catches the trail of warm liquid with his mouth. He drags his tongue up the length of my throat, then places his lips over the seeping wound and gently sucks some more out of it.

  A moan of deep passion escapes me at the guttural sound that comes from his throat. Sliding his fingers to the hollow of my knee, he pulls me even harder toward him while he presses my back against the tree. His draughts are long but slow, the sensation making my mind reel and my body tingle.

  “You’re so
damn delicious, Abigail,” he rasps after his tongue gives my wound a final lick, and then he kisses the spot until my skin feels completely sealed again.

  I know that he took more than he needed, but far less than the last time he drank from me. If I had my way, he could suckle my neck the entire night.

  Quentin releases my leg and lets it slide down the back of his thigh until I stand on both feet again. He uses his weight to keep me trapped against the tree, but he gives me enough space to breathe as he touches his forehead to mine. A tiny drop of blood smears the corner of his mouth. Strangely, it doesn’t freak me out because I know what a pleasure it is to give it to him.

  I reach up and brush it away with my thumb, but before I can wipe it on my dress, Quentin catches my hand and brings it back to his mouth. I breathe a little harder as he licks the last bit of red from my finger, slowly, passionately, his eyes once again locked with mine. “Let’s not waste the good stuff,” he says with a smirk.

  Then, all of a sudden, his brows tip into a frown.

  “What?” I demand, but he doesn’t give me an answer. Instead, his body tenses. He tilts his head slightly, not really looking over his shoulder—more like listening. Every part of him shouts “danger.” In a millisecond, my mind shifts from a placid chill into high-alert.

  Quentin reaches behind his back and pulls the dagger from his belt. With a keen look in my eyes, he pushes the knife into my palm and closes my fingers around it. Then he eases back from me and turns around. His body shields me, but over his shoulder, I can see a figure walking toward us through the trees. My heart skips to my throat.

  “Wolf…” Quentin snarls in a dismissive greeting.

  “Vampire,” Trayan returns coldly.

  The dagger almost slips from my fingers as I clap my hands over my mouth. A thousand thoughts race through my head.