by Michele Hauf
“No, don’t do this, Aby. Not now. If you die—No, you can’t start over! I don’t want you to forget me. Please.”
Tears rolled over his cheeks, hot and stinging, but not so unbearable as the pain ripping his heart. A new heart. A mortal heart?
A heart not worth a single beat if he had not the love that made it beat.
“I love you.” He squeezed her against him, as if he could take her into him and never let her go. “I need you.”
A meow sounded from down the hallway. It was the white cat. Rainier’s familiar. She had done this to Aby. He should strike out with the whip and take her head from her body.
But the breath against his neck stopped his hand from moving to his hip.
He felt fingernails digging into his thigh, then a gasp followed by a deep inhale of life-redeeming air. “Max?”
She was alive!
He pulled back and looked at her.
“Aby?” She’d said his name. She knew him. She was still on life number four then.
He pulled her close again and felt her smile curve against his eyelid. She kissed him there.
“I thought you were dead,” he whispered as he looked into her eyes.
“I’d still come back to you.”
“Not knowing me. I’m not ready for you to move on to number five, Aby. I want you in this lifetime. You’re too precious to lose. I thought I had lost you when that ghost dropped you in the cauldron.”
“That was nasty. I hate water. Did I tell you that?”
“I think you mentioned it once or twice.”
He kissed her and her mouth was cold, but open to him warming it. Drawing her fragile limbs onto his lap, he hugged her, endlessly.
“The white familiar said you’d kill us both,” she whispered. “You would never harm me, Max.”
“I thought she’d killed you.”
“She’s on her last life. Let her be. Rainier was keeping her prisoner. She’s free now. Are you? Did the demon manifest? What of your shadow?”
“I think it’s gone. I won’t know for sure until I try to shadow. But I’m too tired right now to attempt it. Let’s go home. I want to hold you in my arms until I can’t hold you anymore.”
He tugged his coat around her shoulders and helped her to stand. Halfway down the hall the howl of a ghost stopped them both in their tracks. Max turned and saw an approaching line of long-dead bedraggled warriors wielding muskets and maces. Behind them charged ranks of demons.
“Max?”
“Reach in my coat pocket, Aby,” he said.
He released the whip and snapped it in the air.
“The caltrops,” she said.
“Toss them at anything that moves. You okay with weapons?”
“Are you kidding? You should see Severo’s arsenal.”
“Good girl. Stay close and I’ll get you out of here.”
“I know you will.” She fit the weapon into her fist, prepared to throw it. “Let’s do this.”
Three hours later, Max held Aby against the wall in the vampire’s bedroom. There was no time to make it to the bed. They’d begun stripping their clothes as soon as they’d plunged through the front door.
With Aby’s legs wrapped around his hips, he hilted himself inside her. A fierce instinct to find his way into her world now increased his rhythm. She moaned, deep and throaty.
“Max, I love you. Come to me, lover. I can feel you shake against me…”
His body trembled. Part of him was ready to leap, to surrender; another part wasn’t eager to be let down yet again.
He slammed a palm against the wall near her head. “I don’t know, Aby.”
Gritting his teeth, he strained, trying to hold on to the feeling of utter abandon that simmered beneath his skin, wanting release.
Aby tensed her inner muscles, squeezing him like a hand. He gasped out a growl. “Can I do this?”
“Just let go,” she whispered at his ear. “Give yourself to me, Max.”
Her body, hot with perspiration, slid against his skin. He’d never thought to know love again. Never wanted to take the chance of losing her. Now he thought differently.
At least he’d have known her.
Sighing, Max relaxed against Aby’s body. Her breasts, hard and slick, conformed to his chest. Her fingers trailed up his spine.
And with his surrender, came salvation.
He came hard and forcefully, bucking her against the wall, clinging to her and moaning. Two hundred and fifty years of frustration died in the fierce Paris dawn.
They made love all morning. Both spilled onto the bed lusting, wanting, needing. After they climaxed many times, Aby settled into a much-needed catnap.
Bright morning sunlight woke her. She guessed she couldn’t have slept more than a few hours because she was achy and her head foggy. Next to her lay Max, his eyes closed, his soft breaths relaxed and steady.
Aby leaned over Max. “Sleeping?”
She marveled at him. The man didn’t stir. He was actually sleeping.
A touch to his bare chest, and she traced down the center to below his belly button where the dark hairs tempted her to go farther. His erection sprang to attention.
And so did Max. He startled to sit upright. “What the—?”
Aby giggled. “I’m sorry. I woke you up.”
“You…woke me?” He shook his head, as if to knock away the sleep.
“Max.” She kissed his chin where rough stubble formed a dark shadow. “You were sleeping.”
“I was? No, I…I couldn’t have been. We were making love. You come so sweetly, love.”
“So do you. Well, not sweetly, more like a man, so ferocious and spectacular. Like you’ve been waiting to do it for centuries.”
“You can call it sweet, because it was, Aby. So sweet.” He exhaled into a big grin. “We need to do it again, in case that was a fluke.”
“Sounds like a plan. Unless you want to take another nap?”
“I was seriously sleeping? All I remember was us making love…and then…I don’t know, it was weird. I lost account of things.”
“Sleeping,” Aby crooned.
“Impossible. I haven’t slept for over two centuries. And…I saw you. And me. We were walking hand in hand. On a beach, I think. There was white sand and palm trees.”
“Max.” She sidled up to him and kissed his chest. “I do believe you’ve had your first dream in a long time.”
“A dream?” he said on a gasping sigh. “Amazing.”
He tugged her to lie prone on top of him. “It’s really gone. The demon’s shadow. I can sleep.”
“And eat. You want me to go make breakfast?”
“Hell, yes. I want to eat. But first…” He rolled on top of her and eased himself inside her. “You did wake me up.”
They made the top of the Eiffel Tower by evening. After a day spent making love, catnapping and eating all the fruit Aby had gathered in the fridge, he finally took her to see Paris.
Then, at a fancy restaurant Max ordered sushi for Aby, steak for him. And potatoes. And gravy. And the veal looked interesting. And even the escargot. He ordered half the menu before the night had turned to morning.
Their first stop in the States was a tattoo shop on the corner of a small town’s main street. Max perused the clientele while Aby sat in a booth at the back. The artist bent over her and decided she’d need a magnifier to do the task.
Ten minutes later, Aby left, hand in hand with Max.
I am: Aby
USB AG: 2790456318
I trust: Severo 65470
Jeremy Stokes
My love enemy: The Highwayman
ISBN: 978-1-4268-3598-8
THE HIGHWAYMAN
Copyright © 2009 by Michele R. Hauf
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording
, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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® and TM are trademarks of Harlequin Books S.A., used under license. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
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