Highland Hunger Bundle with Yours for Eternity & Highland Beast

by Hannah Howell

The luxurious room was shrouded in shadows. The thick, burgundy velvet drapes hanging at the windows allowed not a ray of light into the room. A fire blazed in the hearth and a few candles flickered in sconces on the walls. It could have been midnight in his chamber and not dawn. In a smooth movement he placed her gently in the middle of a very large bed draped with more velvet curtains. She watched him remove his hat and cape.

  He was so handsome it almost hurt to look at him. His black hair, pale skin, and dark brown eyes, his beautiful smile, his lush lips, his perfect teeth, his straight nose. It was all too much. He came to her side and divested her of her coat and hat as well. He bent over her feet and unlaced her black boots, tossing them to the floor. He looked as if he were about to devour her.

  And she was going to let him.

  Yes, she would have to face the wrath of Mary and the disappointment of Lord Grayson later. But for now . . . For now, she simply did not care. The questions, the dreams. Everything could wait until later. All that mattered was the two of them in this room, in this bed. For the first time in her life, Grace felt as if she were really alive.

  She began to unfasten the buttons that lined the front of her green plaid gown, lifting her eyes to his as she did so. He watched her in fascination and a thrill went through her, knowing that she excited him. She stilled her trembling fingers and focused on shrugging out of her gown. When she was down to her corset and chemise, he slowly began to remove his white shirt, the rest of his clothes following quickly. They could not disrobe fast enough. In a matter of seconds they were both naked in his massive bed. He covered her body with his and she clung to him.

  His kisses melted her as they rained down upon her. He kissed her face, her cheeks, her lips. He moved his head lower to her neck, breathing in deeply and stroking his hot tongue along the length of her throat. She shivered at his touch, aching for more. Inch by inch he made his way across her chest to her breasts, kissing and licking her sensitive nipples.

  Combing her fingers through his thick head of hair, Grace pulled lightly. She wanted him so desperately and his slow, deliberate movements drove her mad as she burned with need for him.

  He made love to her slowly, carefully, as if cherishing each and every second.

  Afterward he wrapped his arms around her, pressing kisses into her hair. She breathed in the scent of him, content and secure.

  “I love you, Grace.”

  “I love you . . .” She paused and gave him a quizzical glance. “I don’t know what to call you.”

  “Call me what’s in your heart.”

  “Phillip. It’s how I think of you.”

  His dark eyes locked on her. “You belong with me.”

  “Yes.” She kissed him on the cheek. She belonged to Phillip and Phillip alone. She loved him and never wanted to be without him again. “Will you tell me now?”

  He hesitated, his expression guarded. “I do not know where to begin.”

  “You have the same dreams as I do?” she questioned.

  “Not quite.”

  “Then how can you possibly know what I have been dreaming?”

  “Because I lived it with you.”

  Grace blinked. “What do you mean?”

  “They are not dreams for me. They are memories. Memories that have been tormenting me for over one hundred years. Beautiful, cherished memories of how much you and I loved each other.”

  Incredulous, Grace could hardly get her mouth to form the word. “Memories?”

  He continued as if she had not spoken. “We loved each other so much, Grace. I told you everything about me and you loved me anyway. I didn’t deserve you and could not believe that you could love . . . someone like me. But I lost you before we could marry, before I could make you mine.”

  “I drowned, didn’t I?”

  Pain wracked his features. Grace placed her hand against his cheek.

  “Yes. Your parents tried to keep us apart. They were taking you to France to place you in a convent. Your ship sank in a terrible storm.”

  “I know,” she whispered in awe. “I had that dream last night. I kept calling for you. . . .”

  “I wished I had died when you died.”

  Grace held her breath. “But you didn’t.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “You kept on living.”

  He nodded, not breaking his gaze with her.

  “As you live now?” she whispered.

  “Yes.”

  “How is that possible, Phillip?”

  “I’ve waited and searched for you for a hundred years, Grace.”

  “How is that possible, Phillip?” Her voice rose an octave as she repeated the question.

  “I could only hope that I would find you again. That your soul would find a way back to me in another body. And that I would be able to find you when you did. I’ve lived a century in heartache and grief. Searching for you.”

  “How. Is. That. Possible?” she asked quite deliberately. Fear began to grow within her. His words defied all logic, all reason. She could accept that she had lived another life before. On some level that made sense to her. But what Phillip was suggesting . . . How could he still be living and look exactly the same after one hundred years? It was impossible. Either he was stark raving mad or she was.

  He grabbed her closer to him, pressing his fingers into the naked flesh of her arms. “Look at me.”

  She blinked.

  “Do you believe I love you?”

  “Yes.” There was not a doubt in her mind that this man loved her.

  “And you love me?”

  “Yes, Phillip, I love you.” And she did love him. The power of her love for this man overwhelmed her. He had become the center of her world, her life. She would do anything for him.

  “Then listen to me very carefully, for I am about to tell you something that may make you hate me.”

  She shook her head. “I could never hate you.”

  “This might change your mind.” The line of his mouth tightened and he looked disgusted with himself.

  “Tell me.” A feeling of dread crept up her spine.

  “Telling you what I am does not negate how I feel about you, Grace. Do not fear me, because I would never hurt you. Never. I promise you.”

  The dream. In her dream. Make me what you are, Gráinne had begged him. Make me what you are. Good heavens, what was he? What was he that he could still be living over one hundred years and not have aged a day? What did Gráinne know that she did not? Her breath came in shallow gasps. “What are you?”

  He grimaced and stared into her eyes, clearly dreading what he was about to say. “Vampire. I’m a vampire.”

  Chapter Six

  Phillip stared at her, watching her blink in confusion. Was she afraid? Did she loathe him for the beast that he was, as she lay naked in bed next to him after he had just made love to her? Now he had confessed that he was a monster.

  “What does that mean?” she questioned.

  “You have never heard of vampires?” he asked, incredulous.

  She shook her head. “Should I have?”

  He shrugged. “I just assumed you knew what they were. What I am.” Had she not read of them? Had her life with Mary Sutton kept her so sheltered?

  “What is a vampire?” she asked, her face puzzled.

  This was worse than if she already knew. Now he would have to explain. “A vampire is a monster.”

  Grace smiled. “Be serious, Phillip.”

  “I am serious.” He kissed her lips as he moved over her, covering her naked body with his once again. “I am a monster.”

  She was an angel. A beautiful angel. Could an angel love a monster? She had before, when she was Gráinne. He could only hope.

  Her delicate brows drew together in a charming way. “What kind of monster?”

  “You have no idea what a vampire is?”

  “No.” She shook her head, her long auburn hair spilling around her. “I have a vague idea of gothic stories but other than that, no.
I do not, and Gráinne did not, see you as a monster. At least not in the dreams I had. That is why I am asking you to explain to me . . . Explain how you can have lived over one hundred years . . .”

  He hated this part. “Because I am a vampire and vampires are immortal. I am over three hundred years old, Grace.”

  She stared at him in disbelief and whispered, “If only you had made me immortal, I cried in my dream last night.”

  “I will live forever,” he confessed.

  She took a deep breath. “Go on.”

  “Vampires are creatures of the night. We feed on human blood and we live forever.”

  “Human blood?” she echoed woodenly.

  Phillip cringed, not wanting to see the revulsion in her eyes. “Yes. We bite humans and drink their blood and they die. It is how we survive.” He looked at her steadily. “I was made a vampire when I was thirty years old. I was bitten by a female vampire in 1570. I have been a vampire ever since.”

  That day so long ago haunted him as if it were yesterday. Lady Anna Barlow had seduced him with her beauty and cursed him by making him a monster. And he had loathed every day of his endless existence until Gráinne came into his life.

  Grace said, “It sounds like a strange sort of twisted fairy tale.”

  He shook his head. “The happily ever after is rather unlikely.”

  Her beautiful blue eyes met his and he saw the fear in them. “Do you want my blood?”

  He wanted so much more than her blood. He wanted her love, her companionship, and her constant presence. He wanted her with him always, for he had lived too long without her. Every ounce of his self-control was centered on not harming her. “You are not in any danger. I’ve long since learned to control my . . . baser urges. I would never hurt you, Grace. I love you too much.”

  He sensed her unease and only wished to calm her. He leaned in and kissed her silky cheek.

  Grace began to tremble nervously. “I don’t know what to think.”

  He held her tightly to calm her. “If nothing else, Grace, know that I love you more than life itself and I will never let you go again.”

  “You are not going to kill me for my blood?” she asked, a strange light in her blue eyes.

  “I have not searched for you for a century only to kill you now.”

  She touched her hand to his face, her fingers caressing his full lips. He stilled, allowing her to explore him, wanting her to feel utterly safe. He could not help but kiss her fingertips. Spreading his lips slightly, he allowed her to feel the smoothness of his perfect, white teeth. He opened his mouth and she sank her finger deeper inside, until she ran against a very long, very sharp tooth along his upper jaw and found a matching one on the other side. Two very sharp teeth used for ripping flesh, like a wolf. Yes, now she could understand why he would call himself a monster. He expected her to recoil from him in disgust, but she did not. Her blue eyes glittered with passion.

  He bit down on her finger, locking it in place, and their eyes met. He could feel her arousal as she began to breathe heavily. He loosened his hold on her finger, sucking gently on it instead. Grace slowly pulled it from his mouth and arched her hips against him.

  With a low growl he lowered his head and covered her mouth with his. He kissed her roughly as desire for her washed over him in a tidal wave. He knew she wanted him as much as he wanted her and it thrilled him. He entered her in one swift stroke.

  It was only the beginning.

  They made love over and over in his massive bed until she was exhausted and he had to let her rest. She slept peacefully in his arms and he watched her, breathing deeply of her sweet scent.

  She finally opened her eyes and yawned sleepily. She smiled at him and murmured, “I’m hungry.”

  “You’ve worked up an appetite.” He admired the color that suffused her soft cheeks. “I’ll ring for the servants and have some food sent up for you.”

  “What about you?”

  He laughed ruefully.

  She smiled at him. “Why are you laughing?”

  He shook his head. “Because I don’t eat food.”

  “You feed only on human blood?” she asked, her eyes huge.

  “Yes.”

  “But not mine?”

  His face became very serious. “You think I am jesting?”

  “No . . . You have two very sharp teeth.... Yet . . . it all seems . . . I don’t know what to believe,” she admitted.

  “Well, believe me, for I am telling you the truth.”

  Grace sat up in bed, pulling the sheet over her luscious breasts. “Prove it, Phillip. You keep telling me you are this kind of monster, this vampire. I don’t believe you. I don’t believe you are a monster. Prove it to me.”

  Dread filled his heart at her words. “Do not ask me to do that.”

  “How can I not? You claim to be over three hundred years old, a creature that lives on human blood. An immortal being, who loved me in another lifetime. You say these things and just expect me to believe you with no proof? I am not a fool, Phillip.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I never said you were.”

  “Then do not treat me as such,” she said coldly.

  He pulled her to him. She wrapped herself around him and he held her close. He loved the feel of her in his arms.

  “Vampires have some special gifts, special strengths.”

  “Such as?” she prompted.

  “Some vampires can read people’s thoughts. Some have extraordinary hearing and can hear even the faintest of noises. Some are incredibly strong or can see things miles away.”

  She cupped his face in her hands. “And you, Phillip? What special gift do you have?”

  “Well, for one, I can read people’s dreams.”

  Grace froze.

  “That is how I found you, Grace.”

  “How?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

  “I’ve waited for you for years. I’ve traveled all over the world searching for you. Somehow, I sensed your dreams about Gráinne. They brought me closer and closer to you. As you dreamed about your other life and learned how much I loved you, the dreams called to me. Very faintly at first. About ten years ago I was in China and I realized I needed to come to England.”

  “That was when I first started to record my dreams,” she confessed, “just before I married Henry. I wrote them down in a special journal.”

  “Writing them down made them stronger, making it easier for me to find you. Most people forget their dreams upon awakening,” he explained. “When you write them down, you help preserve their memory, making them stronger. Every time you had a dream about your life, Gráinne’s life, and recorded it, you left a clear path for me to find you. Your dreams were so vivid, so clear, I was reliving our life together with you. But once you saw me, you stopped writing about them, didn’t you?”

  “Yes,” Grace admitted, spellbound by his confession. “But how could you know that?”

  “Because I know you, Grace. I know everything about you, because I can see all of your dreams, not just your dreams about Gráinne. I know you were devastated by your parents’ death when you were sixteen. I know you thought you loved Henry and were happy enough in your marriage with him. I know you hate your overbearing mother-in-law and I can’t say I blame you. I know you want to marry Lord Grayson simply to escape her. And you are correct in your assumptions of him. He does love you and would be good to you.” He paused before looking at her knowingly. “And I know you blame yourself for Henry’s suicide, but you shouldn’t.”

  Grace’s eyes grew round and she pulled away from him. “There is no way you could know those things.”

  He drew her back into his arms, placing a kiss on her lips. “I’ve seen your dreams, Grace. All of them. I know how you were the one to find Henry’s body that morning, hanging from the rafters in the attic. I know about the nightmares. I know how Mary took care of everything. How she and the doctor had agreed to keep the suicide a secret to avoid a scandal and the official story that was
told was that Henry died of an unexpected heart ailment. That doctor passed away the following year, so that left only you and Mary guarding the truth. And you have never spoken to a soul about losing Henry in such a way.”

  Tears spilled from her blue eyes as he spoke and he was wrenched with guilt for bringing up the topic of her deceased husband. He whispered, “His death was his choice, Grace, and you are not to blame.”

  She hid her face in his chest, the warmth from her tears heating his skin. “You can’t know these things about me,” she sobbed.

  “But I do,” he answered softly in her ear. “And I know you love me.”

  “How? How do you know these things?”

  “You asked me for proof, Grace. I just gave it to you. I know these things about you because I can see your dreams. While you were sleeping a little while ago, you were so exhausted and so peaceful, you didn’t dream at all.”

  She said nothing.

  “The reason I can know these things is that I am a vampire.”

  Grace slowly nodded her head. “And I knew about this, Gráinne knew.”

  “Yes.”

  “I wanted you to make me what you are. . . .” Her voice trailed off as the significance of those words occurred to her.

  “Yes, you wanted me to make you a vampire all those years ago. I had misgivings and did not want to turn you into the monster I was—”

  “You are not a monster,” she protested.

  He hated what he was and not once in three hundred years had he gotten used to it. He cupped her sweet face in his hands. “Yes, I am, Grace. Do not doubt that for a second.”

  “Why didn’t you make me a vampire then? I wouldn’t have drowned. We could have stayed together—”

  An anguished groan tore from his throat. “Don’t think I have not tortured myself with that regret every minute of the past one hundred years. If I had done what you asked, I never would have lost you.” He closed his eyes at the memory. “When I learned your father had taken you to France, I was immediately on a ship on my way after you. I was caught in the same storm, but when it ended, there was no sign of your ship. All aboard were lost before dawn.”

  “Quarter past five,” Grace murmured softly.