His gaze searched hers, his expression wary. “You don’t hate me, then?”
“Of course not. But I feel so strange.” She wrapped her arms around her middle. “So empty inside.”
He nodded. “You need to feed, but don’t worry. Like I told you, you don’t have to hunt. You can drink from me.”
She nodded, but it wasn’t Nick’s blood she craved. Far off in the distance, she could hear many hearts beating. The steady thrumming called to her like sweet music, promising relief from the horrible pain swelling inside of her.
She knew she should feel revulsion, horror at the mere thought of preying on humanity. She tried to summon a sense of guilt, but to no avail. She glanced at Nick. If she said the word, he would let her drink from him.
But it wasn’t vampire blood she craved.
It amused her that he was treading so lightly, watching her so carefully, as if he was afraid she might explode.
“Abbey, we should go downstairs. Your parents and the rest of the family are anxious to see you.”
“Later.”
He nodded. Her eyes were bright and tinged with red as she stood and effortlessly pulled him to his feet.
“I’m thirsty, Nick. Take me hunting.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
After Abbey changed into a pair of jeans, a black sweater, and boots, Nick transported the two of them to Sacramento. On the way, he explained that it wasn’t a good idea to hunt where you lived, at least not too frequently.
Nick glanced at her often as they strolled hand in hand down Main Street. It felt strange, hunting with Abbey at his side, stranger still to think she was now a vampire.
He watched her carefully. She had been very close to death, but she didn’t seem to be suffering any ill effects from her ordeal. He was surprised that she had accepted it so readily, that she didn’t hate him. Then again, she had grown up with vampires. And there was always Pearl’s cure to fall back on.
He grunted softly. He had told Abbey he didn’t care if she accepted the Dark Gift or not. If she decided it wasn’t for her, he wouldn’t love her any less, but, deep in his heart, he hoped she would accept the change.
Watching Abbey hunt was an amazing experience. She didn’t need a great deal of guidance, but seemed to know instinctively how to call her prey to her. He had expected her to be squeamish about feeding, since she had expressed a good deal of concern about it previously. Once again, his fears were groundless.
“I think you were born to be a vampire,” Nick remarked as they left her third victim behind.
“Maybe I was. I never knew hunting could be such fun. Is it always like this?”
“Pretty much.”
She laughed. “If I’d known how wonderful it was to be a vampire, I might have asked Mara to turn me years ago.” She smiled up at him. “But I’m glad I waited for you.”
“So am I.”
She flung her arms out to the side and twirled around. “Everything looks so amazing! I feel wonderful! Strong. Invincible.”
“Don’t get carried away, Lady Dracula,” he said dryly. “You’re not immortal, you know.”
She stuck her tongue out at him. “I know.”
“We should get back home. Your parents are waiting.”
“Along with everyone else,” she muttered.
“They just want to welcome you into the family,” Nick said. “When you were dying, Mara gave you a little of her blood. It made the difference. There are vampires who would do anything, sacrifice anything, to have her blood running in their veins. There is none more powerful anywhere on earth.”
He stroked her cheek, thinking she had never looked more beautiful, more desirable. “I understand you’re feeling a little uneasy, facing everyone as a vampire for the first time. Don’t let it worry you. We’re all related now, in more ways than one. Mara’s blood connects us all.”
Sighing with resignation, she said, “Let’s go get it over with.”
Entering the house, Abbey felt like some foreign oddity on display as every eye swung in her direction. As Nick had said, they were all there—her mom and dad, Rane and Kathy, Brenna and Roshan, Vince and Cara, Derek and Sheree, Logan and Mara. Even Edna and Pearl had shown up, along with their new husbands, James and Monroe.
There was a moment of silence. At first, it made Abbey uncomfortable. She could feel their individual power pushing against hers—taking her measure, so to speak. Without realizing it, Abbey was unconsciously doing the same and as she did so, she knew what Nick had meant. They were all connected by Mara’s ancient blood. Should the need arise, Abbey knew she would be able to find any one of them whenever necessary, just as they would always be able to find her.
And then the moment passed.
“Abbey!” Savanah hurried forward to embrace her, then drew back, her gaze probing her daughter’s. “You’re well?”
“I’m fine, Mom,” Abbey said cheerfully. “Never better.”
Savanah nodded, then stepped aside so Rane could hug his daughter. After that, they each came forward in turn, to hug her and welcome her into the family. Mara last of all.
“You are truly one of us now,” Mara said. “Blood of my blood. If you ever have need of me, you need only call and I will hear you.”
Abbey nodded. “Thank you for sharing your power with me.”
“You have always been family,” Mara said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “But now the bond runs deeper, stronger.”
“Family,” Abbey murmured. For so long, she had felt like she didn’t quite belong. Now she understood why. Not only had she gained a measure of immortality and a husband she loved more than life itself, she had finally, truly, come home.
If you’ve enjoyed Night’s Surrender,
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“In this lovely, sexy retelling of Beauty and the Beast, Ashley hits the mark. The mysterious change that the hero goes through and the depth of his curse will keep readers intrigued until the very last page. The relationship between the two main characters is set to a slow simmer and becomes more beautifully passionate as the story unfolds. When it comes to a sensual romance, Ashley never disappoints.”
—RT Book Reviews, 4 stars, on Beauty’s Beast
The rattle of the guard’s keys roused her from a troubled sleep. She bolted upright, fearing that it was morning and they had come to take her to the block. Stomach churning with fear, she stared at the guard, blinking against the light of the lamp.
“That’s her,” the guard said. He stepped into the cell and lifted the lamp higher. “Stand up, girl. His lordship wants to see yer face.”
She had learned long ago to do as she was told, and to do it quickly. Hardly daring to breathe, she scrambled to her feet.
It was then that she saw him, a dark shape that looked like death itself shrouded in a long black woolen cloak. The garment fell in deep folds from his broad shoulders to brush the tops of his black leather boots. The hood of the cloak was pulled low, hiding his face from her view. Black kidskin gloves covered his hands. He stood there, tall, regal, and frightening.
“Her name’s Kristine,” the guard remarked. “Don’t recall her family name.”
The hooded man nodded and made a circling motion with his forefinger.
“Turn around, girl,” the guard demanded brusquely. She did as the guard asked, her cheeks flushing with shame as she felt the hooded man’s gaze move over her. She was barefoot and filthy. What was left of her hair was dirty and crawling with lice. Her dress, once the color of fresh cream, was badly stained, the hem torn. And worst of all, she smelled bad.
She heard a faint noise, like the rustle of dry paper, and realized the stranger had asked the guard a question.
“Just turned seventeen,” the guard replied with a leer.
She heard the rasp of the hooded man’s voice again and then he turned away, melting into the shadows beyond her cell.
The guard followed him, pausing
at the door to look back over his shoulder. “This be yer lucky day, girl. Seems his lordship has taken a fancy to ye.”
“I don’t understand.”
“He just bought yer freedom.”
Kristine staggered back, overcome by a wave of dizzying relief. She wasn’t going to die.
“He’ll be comin’ by to fetch ye tomorrow night.”
Coming for her. Tomorrow night. Relief turned to trepidation. “What . . . what does he want with me?”
The guard threw back his head and barked a laugh. “He says he’s going ta marry ye.”
“Marry me!” Kristine stared at the guard in shock.
“Aye.”
“But . . . he doesn’t even know me.”
The guard shrugged. “What does it matter?”
Why would a stranger want to marry her? And why did she care, if it would get her out of this terrible place with her head still on her shoulders? “Can you tell me his name?”
“Why, don’t you know? That’s his lordship, Erik Trevayne.”
Stunned, Kristine stared at the guard. She would rather lose her head that very night than become the wife of the infamous Lord Trevayne. A beheading, at least, would be swiftly and mercifully over. “And he wants to marry me? Are you sure?”
“Aye, girl. It seems a fittin’ match. A murderin’ wench bein’ wed to the Demon Lord of Hawksbridge Castle.”
ZEBRA BOOKS are published by
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Copyright © 2015 by Madeline Baker
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
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ISBN-13: 978-1-4201-3735-4
ISBN-10: 1-4201-3735-2
ISBN: 978-1-4201-3735-4
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