by Lisa Kessler
Her fingers tightened in the back of his hair, holding him close. “Take me. I want to be with you forever.”
Desire and thirst burned through his veins, but he held back. He wanted to be sure his bite brought her pleasure, not pain. Kane slid one hand between them and nestled his fingers into her curls, teasing her until her pulse pounded in her veins. He kissed her soft skin, and just as her inner muscles contracted around him, his fangs sank into her neck.
Kane groaned against her skin. Her blood tasted of sunshine and rain, of flowers and candlelight, everything that was beautiful. He drank deeply, slowly, savoring this closeness. Her thoughts, her memories, all poured into him as their souls connected. He felt her pain over losing Callia, and her love for him.
And he discovered her animal spirit. A white hawk soared through her bloodstream and her soul, a beautiful, rare hunter who symbolized freedom in its truest form.
In tial. He claimed her again.
As she weakened in his arms, he felt her voice inside of his mind. In tial.
Her heartbeat fluttered, and Kane cut his tongue, kissing her wound tenderly until her skin healed. While he held her close, their bodies still connected, he brought his wrist to his lips, biting through the skin.
He placed the wound against her lips. “Drink, Rita.”
Gradually, he felt the pull at his veins. The sensation of her drinking from him, watching her lips on his skin, her slender throat swallowing what he offered, sent him over the edge, and Kane ground his hips into her until he erupted deep inside of her.
Rita moaned against him while he held her close. She drank him into her body, her blood, and her soul. He hoped she would drink enough from him to be strong, to face forever with all the tenacity he had grown to expect from her. He’d never turned a mortal, but seeing her unharmed gave him hope.
She pulled back, her lips crimson with his blood. “You are mine in body, blood, and soul.”
“You heard my thoughts although I did not speak them into your mind.” His wrist tingled as the wound healed.
“Our thoughts mingled, like one mind.” She kissed his lips again, long and slow. “I do not feel any different.”
Kane pressed his lips to her forehead. “I have never offered my blood to another. I do not know how long we will wait.”
Without a word, Rita slipped free of his arms and reached for her dress. “Neither one of us should be here when the sun rises.”
Kane frowned at her rush to break the spell of their new marriage, but he also recognized the wisdom behind it. Reaching for her mind, he found the Lord’s Prayer, her thoughts shielded from him. He dressed, doing his best to bury the hurt and confusion brewing inside him. After helping her fold the blanket, he waited for her to speak, to question him, but silence remained.
Rita climbed aboard Candide without any assistance, her strength obviously returning.
“Do you feel well enough to ride?” He watched her for any sign of dizziness from blood loss.
She nodded. “Oui. I feel…fine.”
Rita didn’t wait for him to mount his horse. She spun Candide around and was soon galloping back toward Paris, leaving Kane to follow behind.
Chapter Fourteen
Marguerite raced ahead, wiping stray tears from her cheeks.
It hadn’t worked. Antoine shared the process with her more than once. He drank from his maker, and instantly felt a burning in his belly as his body changed. His eyesight and hearing improved, he thirsted, but not for water, and his strength increased.
Within minutes.
She’d taken Kane’s blood, and other than feeling closer to him than any other person on earth, nothing changed. She failed him.
Maybe his kind couldn’t make others.
Or maybe she just wasn’t worthy.
Either way, their marriage would only bring Kane pain.
She would grow old and leave him—die. She had been so full of hope, so certain of her future. It hurt to feel it slipping away. She felt foolish for believing she could become more.
Her body had failed them both.
A sob escaped her, and she urged Candide faster. She didn’t know what to say, or how to tell him. Instead, she’d shut him out of her mind until she could think things through.
But weeping would give her away.
Candide slowed as they neared the stable, and Marguerite sucked in deep breaths, hoping to calm herself. She pulled her horse to a stop and dismounted. Kane arrived as she unsaddled her mare. He jumped to the ground, his features cold and hard.
He stopped her, taking the saddle from her arms. “Why are you hiding? Your mind is closed to me.”
“Sunrise will be here soon.” She called upon her all-too-easy-to-wear mask of charm and offered him a coquettish smile. Picking up a brush to groom Candide, she shrugged.
“We needed to return, no?”
Kane rested the saddle on the rack and turned to face her, frowning. “I am not a wealthy duke to be charmed. Less than an hour ago, you gave yourself to me, and took me for your own. Now you lie to me. Why?”
And in that moment, her opportunity presented itself. If he hated her, he would not mourn her when she was gone.
When daylight came, she would leave him while he slept. She stared down at the rose around her finger, her heart breaking inside. She would always be his as long as she lived, but he would remember her as a betrayer long after her light extinguished from this world.
She told herself it was for the best.
That didn’t make it hurt any less.
She placed her hand on her hip. “You offend me with your accusation. Nothing I have said is untrue. If I choose to keep my thoughts my own, that does not mean I am lying.”
He stalked around her like the large jungle cat she now knew dwelled inside of him. The cat she had already pictured herself shifting into. It had been folly to think she could ever become like him.
She’d been a foolish woman in love to believe she could be a Night Walker.
Kane groaned and pulled his hair back from his forehead.
“How can I help you if you will not confide in me?”
She took his hand, memorizing how it felt to have his fingers clasp hers like he would never let her go. “I have nothing to confide, Kane.” The first lie was always the hardest. “Nothing.”
They walked hand in hand to the maison and into Kane’s bedroom. She lay down on the bed. He didn’t join her.
Kane lifted a large stone in the floor, exposing a dimly lit passageway underneath. He turned toward her, but his eyes did not shine with mischief the way she had grown accustomed.
“My daylight sleeping quarters are hidden underground.
We will be safe there.”
She’d never be able to move the stone herself to leave during the day. Part of her wanted to surrender. When dusk fell the following night, he would understand that her body hadn’t changed. She was still mortal.
And he would pledge to love her anyway. She would age while he remained virile and young. She would pass away and leave him behind. Alone.
Marguerite steeled herself behind the mask of Le Voleur D’or. It was for the best.
“I cannot bear to sleep under the ground.” She reached for his hand. “Please, can we remain here? We can lock the door. There are no windows for the sunlight to enter.”
“If Gerard were to open the door, we would appear dead to him, Rita. He could call a doctor, and soon we would be burned in the sunlight.” He shook his head. “No, we must sleep below. I have a bedchamber there. You will not know you are underground.”
She sighed. “Just for one night then? Let me rest with you in your bed as husband and wife. I will reconcile myself to our new sleeping arrangements, but for tonight…” She lay back onto the bed. “Please, Kane.”
He sat on the edge of the bed, running a finger down her arm. The muscles tensed in his forearms, and she ached to be wrapped safely in his embrace, to hear him assure her that he could fix this.
/> “I was born into this world to uphold it and protect it.”
His voice rumbled, soft and demanding. “There was never a choice for me.” His blue eyes met hers. “I never dreamed I would meet a woman like you, bold, intelligent, and brave enough to give up the sunlight and walk beside me in the darkness.” He bent to kiss her lips and whispered, “I love you, Rita.”
A tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it.
Kane pulled back. “You are crying. Are you in pain?”
“No.” A sob choked her throat. “No pain.” She wiped her tear. “I wish I felt something, but I am still mortal. Nothing has changed.”
He lay down beside her and pulled her into the refuge of his arms. “You are right, nothing has changed. You are still my wife, and I will always love you.”
“It will only hurt you when I am gone, and I do not wish to live the rest of my days telling people you are my son when I am old and gray. This will never work.” She pressed a kiss to the scar over his heart. “I love you too much to stay.”
“That is why you insisted we sleep up here.” The comforting caress on her back ceased. “You were going to leave me.”
“It would be better for both of us.”
He grabbed her arms and pulled her back from his chest.
She couldn’t escape his intense stare. “We are one. You do not get to choose what would be better for both of us.”
Heat smoldered in her belly, pushing past the ache. “And you do?”
“That is not what I said.”
Marguerite sat up, doing her best to glare at him, but the corner of his mouth curved up slightly into a crooked grin that made her heart flip.
“I meant that we talk, and together we decide what is best. You are not in this world alone anymore.”
Her shoulders sagged, the spit of anger spent. “I was so happy tonight. Being in your arms, making our vows to the moon and stars. My body has let us down.”
Kane leaned forward to steal a kiss, his teeth brushing her lower lip and sending a flush of heat through her. “Your body is perfect. Perhaps I did something wrong. We can try again.”
Try again. Why hadn’t that occurred to her? Marguerite swallowed the lump in her throat. “I would like that.”
“As would I…” He kissed her deeper, his tongue slipping past her lips to caress hers. When he drew back, he cupped her cheek. “We should go below and rest. We can face tomorrow when it comes.”
He lifted her into his arms to carry her to his private bedchamber below. Marguerite kissed his neck and mumbled, “We is a wonderful word.”
While daylight faded into dusk and the sun dipped below the horizon, Kane’s heart picked up a steady rhythm. His chest rose and fell, and his eyes blinked open. He reached for Rita.
His bed was empty.
He sat up; the scent of blood filled the room, mixed with a stench. He got up from the bed and found her on the floor, with dried blood around her eyes, nose, and ears and her body covered in waste.
“No.” He rushed to her side and lifted her into his arms.
No breathing. No heartbeat. “No, no, no!”
Kane raced up into his bedchamber with preternatural speed and laid her body in the porcelain tub. He poured the warm water Gerard left each afternoon into the bath, but Rita remained motionless. Blood-tinged tears slipped down his cheeks and into the water. He’d done this. She was gone because of him. His fault. He never should have been so selfish to attempt to change her.
A rag floated in the water. Grabbing it, he washed her limbs tenderly. “Please, Rita. Please do not leave me.”
But she was already gone, her skin cold, her heart silent.
“Forgive me.” Kane clutched her hand. He shook his head, torment blossoming into righteous anger. He stood, throwing the wet rag across the room. Kane smashed his fist into the wall, cracking the stone. Pain throbbed in his knuckles, and he welcomed the physical ache. He struck the wall again with enough force to break bones in his hand.
“She was my heart, my soul.” Resting his head against the cool, stone wall, he whispered, “In tial.”
In tial.
Kane rushed to kneel at her side. With a hesitant hand, he stroked her hair back from her forehead. Had he imagined her voice in his mind?
“Rita?”
A beautiful sound caught his ear. Her heart pulsed once more, and she pulled a deep breath into her lungs. Her lashes fluttered and finally, he gazed into her light blue eyes.
His vision blurred. Blinking back tears, he cupped her face and bent to kiss her lips. “Welcome back.”
Rita stared up at him as if seeing him for the first time.
Gradually her lips curved into a smile. “I can hear your heart beating.” She pulled herself up to a sitting position. “I do not remember changing, but now I see…everything.”
Grateful that she didn’t seem to remember her mortal death, Kane rested his forehead to hers. “You are not in pain?”
She shook her head and laughter bubbled from her lips.
“I think I am changed.”
He lifted her from the tub and carried her to bed. Lying beside her, he pulled her into his arms. “I thought I lost you.”
Her lips caressed the scar over his heart. “Never, mi amour.”
He smiled and bent to kiss her lips. “I should be so lucky.”
Epilogue
Through the square panes of glass in the doors, he could see Rita on the balcony overlooking the stable. She tended her roses in the moonlight. Tonight, they planned an evening at the lake.
He’d purchased the property as a refuge for them to share. He could shift into his jaguar spirit animal, and Rita kept the beast from straying too far. In turn, she’d mastered allowing the animal in her spirit to merge with her until she soared above him as a gorgeous white hawk.
A year had passed since they wed together under the stars. He still marveled at the magic in her laughter, and the joy in her smile.
He went out the door and approached her from behind, wrapping his arms around her slim waist. Rita turned in his embrace, and gave him a playful kiss, sliding her fingers into his hair.
He ran his hands up her back. “I have something for you.”
She smiled up at him. “Oh?”
He nodded and slipped one hand into his pocket. He pulled his gold watch free, dangling it in front of her. Rita rolled her eyes and laughed. He couldn’t resist tasting her lips.
Kane’s gaze locked on hers. “You are still my Le Voleur D’or.”
Rita grinned up at him with a sparkle in her eyes. “I did not steal your watch.”
“No.” He closed the distance between them, his lips caressing hers. “You stole my heart.”
Acknowledgments
I had so much fun writing this novella. Thanks to Liz Pelletier and Heather Howland for giving me the opportunity to bring Night Walkers into the world. And I also need to thank the entire team at Entangled Publishing. I’m so proud to be a part of the family.
Special thanks to KL Grady for the guidance with this story.
I loved working with you. And I owe a huge debt of gratitude to Theresa Cole for helping me polish this one on such a tight deadline. You are the bomb! I’m so lucky to work with you!
Thanks to my son, Reno, for giving me a reason to visit Paris and tour Notre Dame. Hearing you sing in that cathedral was one of the coolest moments of my life.
Thanks to Panda, Ken, Sarah, and Kinley who all read this one for me, sometimes more than once. You rock!
And to Mary Leo, I just want to say, “Wow. That was a powerful fist bump!”
Night Angel
The Night series
LISA KESSLER
For my Night Angel Legion…
You are the best readers any author could ask for.
Thanks for all your support and for encouraging me to write this one.
Chapter One
Juliana lifted the water-filled bucket of sunflowers and placed it inside the
refrigerated case for the night. Hopefully, she’d be able to use them in a bouquet tomorrow before they started withering. Seeing a sunflower go to waste pained her. The big, bright flowers emanated pure joy, like a smile from Mother Nature herself.
She slid the glass door closed with a sigh. Finally. Time to go home for the day. As she tucked a stray hair behind her ear, she caught the reflection of a man in the glass. He was standing directly behind her. Her breath hitched, and she slipped her hand into the utility pocket of her apron, gripping her canister of pepper spray before she turned.
He put his hands up in mock surrender and grinned. “Don’t shoot, lass.”
Her heart didn’t stop racing but her expression softened into a smile at the sight of him. She couldn’t hear Benedict’s voice, but she imagined it was deep and dark like his eyes, mysterious and cultured. And reading his lips was a pleasure. He had a generous mouth of stunningly white teeth, and he moved his sensual lips slowly, as though he was slowing his speech just for her. Heat blossomed in her cheeks and she tamped it down quickly.
He was a new customer in her flower shop. He’d first come in just a couple of weeks ago, but it wasn’t the first time she’d seen him. His face had haunted her dreams before he’d ever set foot in her store.
For the past few weeks, the faces of two men came to her while she slept, leading her to believe they would both wander into her life soon enough. But recently a Banshee’s wail had also invaded the dream. Her grandmother had instilled a respect for the old Irish legends in her, and she recognized the shriek, waking her from the dream. The Banshee symbolized a coming death, but for who?
Since the bombing that stole her hearing and nearly took her life, she’d grown accustomed to glimpses of the future invading her sleep, but usually they were vague, brief events, and rarely did a clear face appear. And never a Banshee’s cry. Until now.
