Her shoulders sank.
“I promised to let you know if I learn anything new—”
“I know. It’s just . . .”
She didn’t finish. There was no need. Lawrence knew the stakes as well as anyone. Kenton didn’t want to turn her unless he was absolutely certain it was safe.
“Hundreds of Cheld around the world live in hiding. If I have to hunt down every single one myself, I’ll do it.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s practical.”
As Lawrence had explained to her and Kenton, his family actually maintained very little contact with the Cheld they helped. To do otherwise would attract undue attention.
“Don’t worry, we’ll find something. This can’t be the first time it’s happened.”
It being a vampire and a Cheld falling in love and wanting to spend eternity together.
“If you don’t—”
“He will never do it.”
Alessandra loved Lawrence like a brother, but on this, they would never agree.
“He will. I can be mighty persuasive.”
“Hmm. I don’t doubt it. But you know as well as I, your fiancé is also quite stubborn.”
That she knew firsthand. But this was nonnegotiable. There was no reason to believe she couldn’t be turned like any other human.
“Looks like rain,” she said, not-so-subtly changing the topic.
“Turn around?”
They did so in silent agreement. The train came whistling past them as they headed back. Alessandra watched as car after car whizzed by, and when the caboose finally appeared, she couldn’t help but smile.
Every damn time she saw it.
“Do I want to know?”
Alessandra laughed. “No, definitely TMI.”
He darted a quizzical glance at the train, but it would have to remain a mystery for him. Silently remembering that night, the first night she’d seen a vampire bite a human, she blurted out, “How do you feed?”
And why had she never thought to ask before? With her permission, no, more than that, her vigorous encouragement, Kenton fed only on her.
“A man has to keep some secrets,” he said. “Not all of us have our own personal Cheld blood bank.”
“Have you ever changed anyone?” she asked, realizing the question was a personal one but finding it hard to care. Lawrence would either answer or not, as he chose. “Not a Cheld, but, you know . . .”
She knew the answer already, the look on his face making her regret asking the question.
“Never mind. Come on, let’s race before we get wet.”
“Alessandra—”
“No one is around. The train’s already gone by. Who would venture out here with the sky looking like that?”
Without waiting for his approval, Alessandra took off toward the entrance of the running path as fast as possible. Allowing the invisible force within her to completely take over, she let herself think, if only for a moment, that she might actually win. When Lawrence sped by her, Alessandra only became more determined. He was older, and much, much faster, but someday . . .
In the meantime, she’d have to endure Lawrence’s taunting fist waving through the air. Not a very gracious winner for someone who claimed to live by an ancient code of chivalric honor.
Someday . . .
She was wet.
Soaking, actually. He called for Mary to get a towel as Alessandra stepped into the entranceway, one thankfully void of brochures. They’d transformed the inn into a home.
Their home.
“Good God, woman, what do you have against rain jackets?”
Mary returned forthwith, handing him two fluffy white towels. He leaned toward her, whispered a quick directive, and then gave his full attention to Alessandra. Kenton draped one of the towels over his fiancée’s shoulders and then spun her around. Taking out the tie that held her hair in a ponytail, he used the second towel to dry her hair.
“Mmm, that feels good.”
“How was your run, aside from the downpour?”
He’d wanted to go along, but despite the teasing he endured from Alessandra, Kenton did actually work at times. The wealth he’d accumulated throughout the years was more than sufficient for him, for them, for an eternity. But he still enjoyed growing it with investments. Influencing the human world, especially companies that may otherwise struggle, was something he truly believed in.
“I ran with Lawrence,” she said as he dropped the wet towel and took the other one from around her shoulders. Alessandra tried to turn toward him, but Kenton stopped her.
Lifting her loose tank top and tossing the wet garment to the floor, he pushed her hair to the side.
“And what did he say?”
Placing the softest of kisses on the space between her neck and shoulders, Kenton smiled against Alessandra’s skin as she shivered.
“Cold?”
Moving to her sports bra, thankfully the kind with clasps, he unsnapped them both and discarded it.
“Hot, actually,” she murmured as his hands found their mark. Pressing against her backside, Kenton circled her nipples with his thumbs. “But Mary—”
“Is gone for the day.”
Abruptly letting go, he spun Alessandra toward him.
“Not fair,” she said, looking down. “You’re fully clothed.”
Remedying that, he quickly discarded every item that offended her while Alessandra peeled her wet leggings from her body.
Would he ever get used to the sight of her completely nude? Hair still wet, she stood tall and proud. Rightly so.
This could not wait.
Lifting her easily, her legs wrapping around his waist, Kenton carried Alessandra to the very couch where he’d first kissed her.
“I’m sure we’ll turn something up,” he said, distracted, caring more about the here and now than the distant future and the matter of Alessandra being safely turned. One today is worth two tomorrows. He couldn’t recall who’d said it, but Kenton wholeheartedly agreed. And right now, the woman he loved lay distractingly naked beneath him. Lowering his head first to her breasts and then lower, assuring himself she was, indeed, ready for him, Kenton did not drag out their foreplay.
That was for tonight.
“It doesn’t matter either way,” she murmured as he positioned himself above her. So innocently spoken, and yet she was deadly serious.
Entering her in one swift movement, Kenton gripped the sides of the couch to keep from crushing her. No longer keen on conversation, Alessandra tossed her head back, closed her eyes, and then promptly whipped them back open.
She knew he loved to look at her, to peer into the depths of her soul as their bodies moved together. He told her with his eyes, every time, that he was here to stay. They hadn’t spoken of her greatest fear, the one wrought by her father’s disappearance from her life, but Kenton understood it nonetheless. Which made this discussion so very difficult.
Choose between spending an eternity with her, and the possibility that he could kill her if he tried turning her?
He refused to make that choice. He would only take the chance if he could be assured it would work. That was final.
When she smiled up at him, Kenton knew he was in trouble.
“I’m looking at you.”
He slowed the pace, reaching down to ensure his fiancé was fully pleasured.
“I appreciate that,” he said.
She swallowed, hard. So close already?
“I love you, Kenton Morley.”
His heart skipped a beat, just as it did every damn time she said those words.
“And I love you, Alessandra Fiore.”
She moaned, a soft, sweet sound he would savor no matter how many times he heard it.
“And you will turn me. No matter what.”
Sweet? More like a Komodo dragon, single-minded and relentless.
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he took the invitation she offered when she moved her hair to the side. It had only been days, of cours
e, and he could go much longer without needing to feed . . .
Baring his fangs, he sank into her flesh just as she thrust her hips toward him.
Drinking deeply, the sweet taste of her no match for the feel of Alessandra so tightly gripping him, Kenton fought against the rising tide.
“Say it,” she murmured.
He was so close.
“Kenton—”
He released her neck and buried himself so deeply that Alessandra’s nails dug into his back.
He knew what she wanted, and Lord help him, he did not have the power to deny her.
“I will turn you,” he said, and as if that were her cue, Alessandra let go, clenching around him and making it impossible to hold on any longer.
And so he didn’t.
It took him a full five minutes to even recall the conversation and another five for him to find the will to push himself up.
Propping himself above her, Kenton didn’t say a word. He watched as Alessandra attempted to assess him.
He had told himself he’d never lie to her again, and he’d meant it. Kenton had said he would turn her, and as much as he hated the thought of putting her in danger, he also knew he couldn’t bear to ever live without her.
She smiled, reaching a hand up to his mouth. He opened it, realizing belatedly what she was doing.
“Your fangs are still showing,” she said, putting her finger precariously close to them. “I’m sorry if my timing was poor, but I will hold you to your word.”
He captured her hand, both of them actually, and held them high above her head.
“Poor? My sweet temptress, you may be innocent in some ways, but that was anything but poor timing, and you know it.”
Her mischievous grin confirmed his words.
“Then it seems—her tone matched his—“my sweet vampire, you will be stuck with me for a very, very long time.”
“Eternity,” he clarified.
They would be together forever, and now Kenton found he rather liked the idea of eternity.
Find out what’s in store for Lawerence and Toni in The Immortal’s Salvation available February 21, 2019. Pre-order now.
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Also by Cecelia Mecca
The Border Series
The Ward’s Bride: Prequel Novella
The Thief’s Countess: Book 1
The Lord’s Captive: Book 2
The Chief’s Maiden: Book 3
The Scot’s Secret: Book 4
The Earl’s Entanglement: Book 5
The Warrior’s Queen: Book 6
The Protector’s Promise: Book 7
The Rogue’s Redemption: Book 8
The Guardian’s Favor: Book 9
Enchanted Falls
Falling for the Knight: A Time Travel Romance
Bloodwite
The Healer’s Curse: Bloodwite Origin Story
The Vampire’s Temptation: Bloodwite Book 1
The Immortal’s Salvation: Bloodwite Book 2
About the Author
Cecelia Mecca can usually be found, chai in hand, thinking up ways to tame both paranormal and medieval bad boys. Although the former English teacher’s actual home is in Northeast Pennsylvania where she lives with her husband and two children, just an hour from Jim Thorpe, the inspiration town for Stone Haven, her online home can be found at CeceliaMecca.com. She’d love to hear from you.
Stay in touch:
[email protected]
The Guardian’s Favor
Sneak Peek
Meet Lawerence Derrickson before he becomes a vampire in The Guardian’s Favor. Although this historical romance is the ninth book in the Border Series, it can be read as a standalone novel.
Theffield Castle, England, 1274
Aidan shifted on his mount, adjusting the leather sheath of the dirk that never left his side. Graeme would have enjoyed this challenge. Frowning at the sight before him, he averted his gaze from the looming castle and concentrated instead on the steady pounding of hoofbeats behind him.
As they rode closer, Aidan held up a fist. The men fell into line around him as Theffield Castle came fully into view. Once a motte and bailey castle, it had seen so many additions and renovations that the stronghold was now fully positioned to house an English earl. Unlike the man, Theffield was an impressive holding.
“I’d hoped to never see this place again,” Aidan said to no one in particular.
“And I can understand why,” Lawrence said beside him.
Lawrence was one of Aidan’s closest friends. The son of a chief, he and his clan were more than simply neighbors to Clan Scott. His family, and clan, had been at war with Theffield’s neighbors for many years. Lawrence took any opportunity to travel south in hopes of meeting his enemies. In all other dealings, Clan Karyn sought peace, not war. But the Morley family was one glaring exception.
He and Aidan looked remarkably similar, and had been mistaken for brothers before—a misconception it amused them to indulge. Both had brown hair, though Aidan’s was a touch darker, hazel eyes and a hulking build. But the resemblance they bore to each other was nothing compared to that between Aidan and Graeme. He and his brother could pass for twins.
Lawrence looked up into the cloudless sky as a flock of rooks passed overhead. “It seems so long ago when you first met her—”
“I would prefer not to discuss her.” He’d known the topic would arise eventually, and had little patience for it at the moment. “Thankfully, she will not be in residence,” he added, prodding his horse forward.
Unbidden, a memory of Lady Clarissa assaulted him as they rode toward the outer gatehouse of the fortress in front of them. Unlike the young girl he’d described to Gillian, this memory was of a woman, one with the same oval-shaped face and long, straight brown hair. But rather than peeking out from behind her father, this Clarissa leaned over the high wooden stands surrounding the tourney field to offer him a favor. He could still see the creamy skin of the top of her breasts as she strained to tie the simple white ribbon around the tip of his lance.
Another vision assaulted him, the same woman, the same dress. This time, she stood before a glistening Lake Litmere. When he thought of her, he always remembered the beauty of that lake, only outdone by the beauty of the woman. She looked at it, at everything, with such wonder in her eyes.
It was as if she had never seen anything as glorious as that lake before.
Because she hadn’t.
With the exception of the infrequent visits she and her father had made to Sutworth Manor, Clarissa had been all but imprisoned within the walls of Theffield Castle. Even so, it had almost defied his belief that she’d never seen a lake before. How was such a thing possible for a woman born and bred in the borderlands? But there was no denying the sheer pleasure of her expression as she dipped her fingers into the frigid water.
“Damn Douglas,” he murmured to himself.
“For forcing you to meet with the father or for giving you a reason to remember the daughter?”
They’d slowed their pace as they approached the castle, and apparently Lawrence had heard him.
“Both.”
He called up to the guard, then he and his men waited for the drawbridge to be lowered. Theffield’s moat had dried out long ago, but that did not prevent use of the ancient drawbridge. It came creaking down, and continued to crea
k as they made their way across it to the inner bailey.
“You should have sent Graeme,” Lawrence said, not for the first time that day.
Though Gillian’s babe was not nearly ready to make its entrance into the world, he would never have allowed his brother to travel without him. The chief was needed at home.
“Alec would allow your father to ride alone?” he asked Lawrence.
Lawrence’s older brother Alec was their father’s second, just as Aidan was Graeme’s second, and he would never consider such a thing. They both knew it.
“Alec was never forced to treat with the man responsible for ruining his life.”
As guards approached them, Aidan gave his friend a look he hoped would make him stop talking.
“Alec has not spent two years brooding.”
“I have not—”
“Greetings, my lords.”
Thankful for the interruption, Aidan allowed the reins to be taken from him by a stablehand. Setting aside his irritation, he prepared for the meeting, which promised to be unpleasant at best, deadly at worst.
Theffield was their last hope to bring back the Day of Truce, and with it, peace. If he could not convince the earl to help them, and he doubted very much the man was inclined to do so, the recent skirmishes along the border might escalate to full-scale battles. A discomforting thought indeed.
“My lord is expecting you,” another servant said as he led them through the courtyard. “Your men are welcome in the main keep.”
He and Lawrence exchanged a glance. It was an odd statement to make, one that implied there had been some discussion about what to do with his men. And obviously a consideration to not allow them in. Though it was the kind of reception he’d expect from the earl, it did not bode well for their meeting.
Theffield was no ordinary keep. Its door, nearly three times the size of most and constructed of old, heavy wood, took two men to open. One pulled the iron handle, and the other pushed from the inside. An elderly man, straining with his efforts, appeared as the door slowly swung open. Like each of the servants that greeted them, his face was dour. Theffield was much as he remembered it . . . without joy. Without light and certainly without love.
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