There was only one element in my past, only one detail that I wanted to resolve. “Will you show mercy to Jason?”
He shook his head and my heart sank. “I think he should be yours.”
In a way, my decision had been made when I saw my own test results. I offered my other hand to him, palm up. My words were thick, my voice not sounding like my own. “I’ve never learned to waltz.”
“I’ll teach you,” he pledged. He pulled me into his arms and that music became louder. It was evocative of another time and place, romantic and sweet and ethereal. As seductive as he was.
“How do you do that?” I asked.
“It’s easy,” he whispered and I believed him. I felt his hand on my back, his chest against mine, then he pulled me close. His breath fanned against my ear, my neck, and I gasped at the tiny prick of his teeth.
Then my blood was leaving me, its heat flowing from the wound on my neck. I felt him drink, felt him take the life force into his body. With every beat of my heart, Micah felt stronger and larger, firmer and warmer. And with every beat, I felt less substantial, weaker.
I was becoming a ghost. The cares of the world fell away from me and I saw the course of my life with perfect clarity. I saw that every step had been on the same journey, bringing me to this place at this moment with this man. I relived that forgotten glimpse of Micah at my mother’s funeral, reviewed those dreams, and tasted the force of destiny in my life.
I saw the pattern in my dating, my dissatisfaction with all those dark-eyed, dark-haired men, none of whom could hold a candle to Micah. I saw my own impatience with any relationship that was not a perfect communion, and knew what I had been seeking.
This.
Him.
I saw how the past shapes the future, but gained a sense of how the future could shape the past. My life had brought me inexorably to this destination, to this junction, to this destiny.
Who could tell where the adventure would lead from here?
I wanted to know.
And just when it seemed that I would cease to exist forever, just when it seemed that I was no more substantial than the wind, Micah lifted his head. He bit his own hand, then fitted my mouth to the wound. The blood was salty, not truly to my taste, but he coaxed me to drink of it.
Once I had started, I couldn’t stop. Micah’s blood flooded through me like a draught of starlight. It set me tingling with a physiological change that I knew I would have to analyze later. For the moment, though, there was only the sense that I was changing, becoming something closer to ice and moonlight than before.
I was trading the sun for the moon, in more ways than one. I felt stronger and more vital, purposeful and focused. When Micah made me stop drinking, I believed I truly was invincible.
Finally.
I smiled at him, seeing him fully for the first time. He was larger and darker than I’d imagined, the secrets in his eyes more profound. His skin was finer, his presence stronger, his hair more luxurious. My desire for him had multiplied tenfold.
My gaze was sharper, my ability to perceive detail almost dizzying. All of my senses were heightened and my body was stronger. I flexed my hand, awed by the change. There was so much to learn.
And all of eternity to do it.
Then I lifted my arms, astounded to find myself rising above the earth by will alone. I looked down upon the collapsed body of Dr. Rosemary Taylor, that mortal shell I needed no longer. She laid on the bank of the creek as if she were sleeping, no more a part of me than the shoes I’d kicked into my closet.
Micah offered his hand and we moved like the wind through the air, the speed leaving me dizzy and disconnected from space and time. I knew where we would go and trusted him to take me there.
Jason awakened to find me by his bedside. He smiled, this thoughtful gem of a boy, trust filling his eyes. I heard the music again, that ghostly waltz, and my throat tightened at its import.
“Would you like to dance, Jason?”
He looked between me and Micah, with uncertainty. “Will it hurt, Dr. Taylor?”
“Never again,” I vowed and he searched my gaze as he had once before.
And then he smiled.
“Okay.” Jason opened his arms to me.
I smiled and leaned closer, gathering the precious burden of him into my arms as Micah watched. I smelled the death in Jason and my heart swelled that I could give him this gift.
This mercy.
“Listen to the music,” I murmured.
“Pretty,” he said and closed his eyes, his dark lashes thick upon his cheek. He’d never awaken again and I was fiercely glad of that. I bent my head to his sweet neck, tore the flesh and drank until he was gone.
Until he was at peace forever.
Micah brushed my fingertips across the two puncture marks, showing me how to remove the proof of our presence. His hand was warm over mine, protective, and as I stared at Jason, finally so tranquil, I was fiercely glad of the choice I’d made. I had become something new, and was determined to use my power as Micah did.
For mercy.
So, I smiled when Micah took my hand in his and I squeezed his fingers in mine. He smiled at me, his eyes glowing with promise, then led me on our adventure.
I went willingly. There was so much to learn, and all the time to do it. I had been waiting for this opportunity and I knew that I – we – would make the most of it.
Forever.
About the Author
Deborah Cooke sold her first book in 1992, a medieval romance called Romance of the Rose published under her pseudonym Claire Delacroix. Since then, she has published over fifty novels in a wide variety of sub-genres, including historical romance, contemporary romance, paranormal romance, fantasy romance, time-travel romance, women’s fiction, paranormal young adult and fantasy with romantic elements. She has published under the names Claire Delacroix, Claire Cross and Deborah Cooke. The Beauty, part of her successful Bride Quest series of historical romances, was her first title to land on the New York Times List of Bestselling Books. Her books routinely appear on other bestseller lists and have won numerous awards. In 2009, she was the writer-in-residence at the Toronto Public Library, the first time the library has hosted a residency focused on the romance genre. In 2012, she was honored to receive the Romance Writers of America’s Mentor of the Year Award.
* * *
Currently, she writes paranormal romances featuring dragon shape shifter heroes under the name Deborah Cooke. She also writes medieval romances as Claire Delacroix. Deborah lives in Canada with her husband and family, as well as far too many unfinished knitting projects.
* * *
Visit Deborah’s Website and Blog
* * *
Subscribe to Deborah’s Monthly Newsletter
More Books by the Author
Books by Deborah Cooke
* * *
Paranormal Romances:
The Dragonfire Series
KISS OF FIRE
KISS OF FURY
KISS OF FATE
Harmonia’s Kiss
WINTER KISS
WHISPER KISS
DARKFIRE KISS
FLASHFIRE
EMBER’S KISS
THE DRAGON LEGION COLLECTION
SERPENT’S KISS
FIRESTORM FOREVER
* * *
The Dragons of Incendium
WYVERN’S MATE
Nero’s Dream
WYVERN’S PRINCE
Arista’s Legacy
WYVERN’S WARRIOR
Kraw’s Secret
* * *
Urban Fantasy Romance
The Prometheus Project
FALLEN
GUARDIAN
REBEL
ABYSS
* * *
Paranormal Young Adult:
The Dragon Diaries
FLYING BLIND
WINGING IT
BLAZING THE TRAIL
* * *
Contemporary Romance:
The Coxwells
THIRD TIME LUCKY
DOUBLE TROUBLE
ONE MORE TIME
ALL OR NOTHING
* * *
Flatiron Five
SIMPLY IRRESISTIBLE
ADDICTED TO LOVE
IN THE MIDNIGHT HOUR (2018)
* * *
Books by Claire Delacroix
* * *
Time Travel Romances
ONCE UPON A KISS
THE LAST HIGHLANDER
THE MOONSTONE
LOVE POTION #9
* * *
Historical Romances
ROMANCE OF THE ROSE
HONEYED LIES
UNICORN BRIDE
THE SORCERESS
ROARKE’S FOLLY
PEARL BEYOND PRICE
THE MAGICIAN’S QUEST
UNICORN VENGEANCE
MY LADY’S CHAMPION
ENCHANTED
MY LADY’S DESIRE
* * *
The Bride Quest I
THE PRINCESS
THE DAMSEL
THE HEIRESS
THE COUNTESS
THE BEAUTY
THE TEMPTRESS
* * *
The Rogues of Ravensmuir
THE ROGUE
THE SCOUNDREL
THE WARRIOR
* * *
The Jewels of Kinfairlie
THE BEAUTY BRIDE
THE ROSE RED BRIDE
THE SNOW WHITE BRIDE
The Ballad of Rosamunde
* * *
The True Love Brides
THE RENEGADE’S HEART
THE HIGHLANDER’S CURSE
THE FROST MAIDEN’S KISS
THE WARRIOR’S PRIZE
* * *
The Champions of St. Euphemia
THE CRUSADER’S BRIDE
THE CRUSADER’S HEART
THE CRUSADER’S KISS
THE CRUSADER’S VOW
THE CRUSADER’S HANDFAST
* * *
Short Stories and Novellas
BEGUILED
An Elegy for Melusine
Something Wicked This Way Comes
Coven of Mercy Page 4
