by Connie Hall
When he didn’t move, only stared at her with that fathomless, unflappable expression, she couldn’t stand it any longer. She had her answer. He didn’t care.
She said, “If you don’t, my grandmother will.”
“Is that what you want?”
“Yes.” The pressure moved up into her throat. She felt it building behind her eyes. Any moment, tears would flood her eyelids. “Why did you come here?” she asked, the pressure moving down into her chest.
“I guess to say goodbye.”
“Okay, goodbye.” The words tumbled out of her mouth. She reached for the doorknob and opened the storm door.
He grabbed her hand. “Takala, wait!”
She turned to look into his handsome face and saw fear and loneliness, so wide, so deep she found herself drowning in it. Tears streamed down his pale cheeks, but they were thick, the color of blood. She’d never seen a vampire’s tears before. She didn’t even know they could cry—especially one who was two thousand years old and had said he couldn’t feel anything.
“Takala, I know I’m a vampire and the life I offer you will be a difficult one, but I love you.”
Takala just blinked at him.
“You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved,” he continued. “You made me feel things that I thought were lost to me forever. I can’t go on without you.”
“You mean it?” she asked, still leery on the outside but bubbling over with joy on the inside.
“Yes.”
She flung herself at him, inhaled him. He held her with a trembling fierceness; then he was kissing her, stealing her breath, making her toes turn under, her knees weaken, stoking a fire inside her only he could fuel. After a long moment of reveling in being held in his all-encompassing embrace, she broke the kiss and dabbed at the red tears on his cheeks with her fingers. “I’ll get that bell around your neck yet.”
He grinned and said, “I’ll settle for a chain.”
They both laughed. She felt his laughter resonate through her own body, just like she felt their souls were inexplicably tied together. She hugged him even tighter.
The screen door opened and Meikoda said, “Hmm. Akando, you have changed.”
They broke apart. An awkward moment ticked by where Meikoda’s blue eyes challenged Striker’s purple ones.
Takala said uneasily, “Grandmother, this is Striker Dark.”
“Oh, the vampire who possesses my granddaughter’s spirit.” Rarely could anyone stare down Meikoda, but Striker seemed determined. He didn’t blink.
The clash of two powerful Titans.
It was Meikoda who made the concession by glancing at Takala. “Well, do not keep him standing on the porch all night. Where are your manners, Takala?” She waved a gnarled hand at Striker. “Come in, and I will read your tea leaves and tell you if you are worthy enough to possess Takala’s heart.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Takala and Striker walked hand in hand inside the house. They didn’t see the amused gleam in Meikoda’s eyes that she leveled at their backs.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-0824-7
NIGHTWALKER
Copyright © 2011 by Connie Koslow
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 publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario M3B 3K9, Canada.
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.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
For questions and comments about the quality of this book please contact us at [email protected].
® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
www.eHarlequin.com
*The Nightwalkers
