He opened the box to study the rings. Was he out of his mind to want to marry someone he’d met only five nights ago? No, he corrected that. They’d first met in 1241 when Neona had saved his life. He had no memory of it, but she remembered him. She’d dreamed of him. And it was her arrow in Russell’s quiver that had led him here. It was his quest for the truth that had brought him here.
The truth was he loved her. He’d waited almost eight hundred years for her. Why should he wait another blasted night? He’d suspected from the beginning that their fates were connected. He knew it now for sure.
A clanging noise and laughter sounded outside. It sounded like metal pot lids being knocked together. He set the jewelry box on the bed, then walked in his stocking feet to the door. With his superhearing, he could detect voices outside.
“You’re all drunk,” Lydia fussed. “How will you guard this house through the night? We can’t let the prisoner escape.”
Someone scoffed. “I don’t think he’ll be wanting to escape tonight!”
The others laughed.
Lydia scoffed. “Don’t let the queen see you like this. She’s busy in the cave tonight.”
The cave? Where the Living Water was? At some point, Zoltan needed to sneak in there for a taste test. He’d brought an empty bottle for the task.
The bar on the door scraped. “Go inside, Neona,” Lydia ordered. “The rest of you, go sleep it off. You can guard during the day.”
Zoltan stepped back between the beds so it wouldn’t look like he’d been eavesdropping.
When Neona stumbled inside, his mouth dropped open. She was more beautiful than ever. She smelled of wildflowers and looked heavenly in white silk. The front part of her hair had been braided and wrapped across the top of her head like a crown. Wildflowers had been inserted in the braid, making her look like a fairy princess. The back section of her hair hung loose down her back like a shiny black curtain. More flowers blossomed in thread on her white silk gown and red silk slippers.
She looked at him and her eyes widened. When the door slammed shut behind her, she jumped and hiccoughed. Wincing, she lifted a hand to her mouth. The bell-shaped sleeve of her gown fell back toward her elbow, revealing the Hello Kitty watch fastened to her wrist.
He smiled. “You look beautiful.”
She frowned. “So do you.” Her gaze swept over his bare chest, and her frown deepened. “You took off the bandages.”
“They were a little bloody, and I wanted to wash up.” He took a step toward her.
She stepped back. “The wounds didn’t bleed?”
He shook his head. “That ointment you put on them worked well.” He took another step toward her. “Thank you for saving me. Twice.”
She moved over to the table. The bowl and pitcher were still there, untouched. She peered into the pitcher and grazed her fingertips across the dry bowl.
No doubt she was wondering how he was standing here squeaky clean with wet hair. She shot him a wary look, then eased behind the table.
“Careful.” He stepped toward her, worried that her long gown was too close to the fire.
She grabbed the knife off the uneaten plate of food and pointed it at him. “Don’t come any closer.”
He sighed. So much for his wedding night. And that knife was clearly meant for spreading jam. “You should find a sharper knife if you want to kill me.”
Her face crumbled. “I don’t really want to kill you.”
“That’s a relief.”
“I don’t know what to do with you.” She gazed sadly at the knife in her hand. “Maybe I should go cut the donkey.” She hiccoughed. “Poor donkey.”
Zoltan’s mouth twitched. “I think you’re drunk.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I think you’re smirking at me.”
“Never.” He wiped the smile off his face.
“I had a little wine. Four cups. No, five.” She lifted her chin. “It’s in my blood now, so I’m warning you. I won’t taste good.”
His mouth twitched again. She would still taste wonderful to him. “Is that why you drank?”
“Partly. But I also wanted the courage to—” She swayed to the side and caught herself on the back of a chair.
“To have sex with me?”
“No!” She pointed the knife at him. “I know your secret. You’re a monster!”
“I know your secret. You’re a two-thousand-year-old crone.”
She gasped. “I’m not a crone!”
“I’m not a monster.”
She huffed. “You have fangs!”
“You have a gray hair.”
“I do?” With a stunned look, she lifted her hand to her hair, forgetting she still had the knife in it.
“Careful!” With vampire speed, he raced forward, yanked the knife from her hand, and pulled her away from the fireplace.
“Get back!” She shoved at his chest.
He released her but remained in front of her.
“Move!” She shoved again, but he didn’t budge. She pushed again. “You’re like a rock.”
She paused, her hands splayed across his chest. Her eyes widened. “So . . . hard.” Her fingertips pressed gently into him. “But soft.”
He drew in a steadying breath as her fingers slid down his torso, caressing his bare skin. He needed to stay in control and keep his eyes from glowing and frightening her.
“You feel like a human,” she whispered.
“I am human.”
“No!” She fisted a hand and pounded it against his chest to accentuate each sentence. “You’re a vampire. With fangs. You’ll get hungry. And bite me.”
“I won’t.”
“I don’t trust you—”
“I won’t bite you. Here, I’ll prove it to you.” He walked over to the wooden chest and pulled out the small ice chest. “I brought plenty of blood with me.” He showed her a bottle, then opened it to drink a few gulps.
Her eyes widened with horror.
Damn. Instead of reassuring her, he was scaring her. He stuffed the bottle back into the ice chest.
She hiccoughed. “Where did you get all that blood?”
“It’s synthetic blood. Manufactured.”
“You didn’t . . . drain it from someone?”
“No, it’s made in a factory. All of us good Vamps drink synthetic blood. We don’t attack people for food.” He opened the wooden chest again to set the ice chest inside.
She stumbled closer for a quick look. “You brought clothes here? Where did you go?”
“I went home for a little while. I can teleport to another place in a second.”
She blinked at him. “That’s how you disappear? You tele—pork?”
His mouth twitched. “Teleport.”
“Oh. So you . . . teleported home?” When he nodded, she gave him an incredulous look. “Then why did you come back?”
His heart sank. “You . . . don’t want me here?”
“There are people here who would like to kill you. If you had any sense, you would stay away!”
“So you’re worried about me?” He smiled. “You care about me?”
She crossed her arms. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You mean you don’t want to admit that you care about me.”
She scowled at him. “Why did you come back?”
“I can’t leave you here alone to shoulder all the blame. Not when I want you to trust me.” He turned to close the lid on the wooden chest.
With a grimace, she eyed the arrow wound in his shoulder. “If you can teleport whenever you like, why didn’t you disappear when Lydia shot the arrow?”
“The arrow would have hit you.” He frowned at her. “Don’t ever leap in front of me like that again.”
“I-I wasn’t thinking.”
He arched an ey
ebrow at her. “One might get the idea that you cared about me.”
She huffed. “I am a healer. It is my natural instinct to spare people from pain.” She reached for his shoulder. “Should I heal it now?”
“No.” He grabbed her hand. “It will heal during my death-sleep.”
“Death-sleep?” With a shudder, she pulled her hand away. “If everything heals while you’re . . . asleep, why do you still have the old scars on your back?”
“I was mortal then. Only fourteen.”
She regarded him solemnly for a moment, then swayed on her feet.
He took hold of her shoulders to keep her steady. “Maybe you should lie down.”
She shook her head, and one of the wildflowers slipped from her hair and fluttered to the floor. “I cannot believe it is really you. The boy. Do you know you’re the only human male I have ever healed?”
“I didn’t know.”
She rested her hands upon his chest, then circled behind him, moving her hands across his chest and shoulder to keep herself steady. “I remember this so clearly.” She touched the burn mark on his back. “Like it was yesterday.”
He drew in a deep breath. “I’m still the same person. Just a little older.”
She touched a few scars across his shoulder blades. “I healed these first.” She moved her hand up the back of his neck to his head, then her fingers delved through his wet hair to stroke his scalp. “You had a nasty cut here. Swollen and bleeding. It was the blow that knocked you unconscious.”
He closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of her fingers.
Her hand skimmed down his neck to the red scar that marred his back. “I was afraid to touch this. I knew it would hurt something fierce.”
“But you did. You saved me.”
“I have been dreaming about that day since the first night we met in the woods. Somehow, deep inside, I knew that it was you.”
He turned slowly. “Then I am the man of your dreams.”
She hiccoughed. “Or a nightmare.”
He plucked a wildflower from her hair. “I would never harm you.”
“You are hurting me. You’re making my heart ache.”
“Sweetheart.” He dragged the flower down her cheek. “It doesn’t need to hurt. If you’ll accept me for what I am—”
“You’re a vampire.”
“Who loves you.” He kissed her brow.
“You shouldn’t say that.”
“But it’s true.” He kissed her nose.
“Why are you kissing me?”
“Because I love you.” He brushed his lips against hers. “We were meant for each other from the beginning.”
She shook her head. “I’m afraid you’ll bite me.”
“I’ve kissed you before without biting you.” He nuzzled her neck. “I’ve nibbled your neck without biting you.” He palmed her breast. “I’ve kissed your breasts without biting you.”
She moaned and gave him a sleepy-eyed look. Then she flinched and jumped back. “Your eyes are turning red!”
“It only means that I want you—”
“No!” She grabbed the knife off the floor where it had fallen earlier. “My mind is made up, and I will not be swayed.” She pointed the knife at him. “I will not fornicate with you.”
He raised his eyebrows. “That’s good. Because I’d much rather make love.”
“That’s even worse!” She motioned with the knife. “Go to bed.”
“Come with me.”
“No! That is your bed. This one is mine.” She scrambled onto the other bed, then settled against the wall with her legs drawn up and her knees bent. She hugged her knees with one hand and pointed the knife at him with the other.
With a sigh, he sat on the edge of the other bed. “You don’t need the knife, Neona. I understand the word no.”
She frowned, flexing her hand around the knife handle. “I’ve never had to spend the night alone with a vampire.”
“I’m not going to hurt you.” He moved the black box from the bed to the bedside table. It didn’t look like he’d be proposing tonight.
“What is in the box?”
“I’ll show you later.”
She yawned.
“You’re used to sleeping at night, aren’t you? You can sleep if you want.”
“I have to keep an eye on you.”
He snorted. “You think I’m going to fly across the room and attack you?”
“Isn’t that how you became a vampire? Didn’t another one attack you?”
He sighed. “Sometimes that happens. In my case, I asked for it.”
Her eyes widened with shock. “Why would you do that?”
“I lost my brother and parents within a week. I was fourteen, and suddenly I was a count, responsible for a destroyed castle and a burned village. The only friend I had left was an old vampire. Istvan. He gave me advice and money so I could rebuild the castle and village. He helped me defeat the Mongols when they invaded a second time. And he watched over my domain when I would go searching for answers.”
“He was a good friend,” Neona whispered.
Zoltan nodded. “My best friend. And a second father to me. I had the arrow that killed my real father, and I would spend every summer hunting for those who had murdered him and destroyed my village.”
Neona winced. “I’m not sure who killed your father.”
“I know.” He smiled at her. “You were with me, healing me. But still, I wanted answers, and I wouldn’t give up.”
Her eyes softened. “You were always stubborn.”
“Yes. When I turned twenty-nine, I became worried that I would grow too old or infirm to continue the search, so I asked Istvan to transform me. And he did. He said something about my mother having an ancient soul, and that he’d always known I was destined for the same fate. It didn’t make any sense to me at the time, but it does now.”
“What happened to Istvan?”
“He died in the Great Vampire War of 1710.”
She blinked. “There was a vampire war?”
“Yes.” His mouth curled up. “Don’t worry, the good guys won.”
“But you lost your best friend. It must have been lonely for you.”
“Not anymore.” He smiled. “Now I’ve found you.”
She frowned. “Don’t smile at me. It makes me feel strange.”
His smile widened.
She bit her lip. “So there really are good vampires who fight the bad ones?”
He nodded. “We’ve been fighting them for centuries. Lately, we’ve been fighting Master Han and his vampire lords. You met Russell. He’s more determined than anyone to kill Master Han.”
“You know Russell?”
“Yes. He drops by my castle twice a month for a supply of blood and weapons. It was your arrow in his quiver that caused me to come looking for you that first night.”
“Oh.” She made a face. “I asked Russell to use it to kill Liao. He’s the monster who killed my sister.”
“We’ll get him. We’ve already killed the other two lords. And we got rid of the demon Darafer.”
She winced. “There was a demon?”
“Yes. Don’t worry. We’ll defeat Lord Liao and Master Han. You can trust us.” Zoltan felt the pull of the upcoming sunrise. He stood and dropped his jeans.
She stiffened. “What are you doing?”
“The sun will rise soon.” He tossed the jeans on top of the wooden chest. “I’m making myself comfortable.” He stretched out on the bed and tugged the sheet up to his hips, even with the band of his black boxer briefs.
“You’re going to fall asleep?”
“Death-sleep.” He rolled onto his side to look at her. “I’ll be completely vulnerable. I’m trusting you to keep me safe.”
She studied him, searching h
is eyes. “Why do you trust me?”
“You’ve saved me twice. I don’t figure you would let me die now.”
“What do you mean by death-sleep?”
“I’ll be dead. Then I wake up right after sunset.”
“How can you wake from the dead?”
“I’m not sure. I’m just damned grateful that it keeps happening.”
She frowned. “Does it hurt? When you die?”
“A little,” he lied. Then he sat up with alarm. “If I look like I’m in pain going into my death-sleep, do not touch me. Do you understand? It’s the pain of death, and if you take that upon yourself, you would probably die.”
Her face paled and she nodded.
He lay back down as another tug pulled at his senses. “Why the no fornication rule?”
“Isn’t it obvious? They’ll kill you as soon as I’m pregnant. So the best way to keep you alive is to make sure that I never get pregnant.”
“So you’re rejecting me because you care about me.”
“I don’t want you to be killed because of me.” She hugged her knees. “And I don’t trust you. I saw how your fangs sprang out in a moment of intense pain. They might do it again if you feel . . . intense pleasure.”
“You think I’ll bite you while I’m climaxing?”
“Yes.” Her cheeks turned pink as she gave him a wary look. “Does that usually happen?”
He yawned. “I can control it.”
“It would be foolish for me to trust you.”
“I understand. Trust has to be earned.” He felt a stronger pull tugging him into the deep dark hole, but he fought to remain conscious. “We’ll start with something small. Then if I don’t bite you, we’ll move on to something bigger. Do you agree?”
She nodded sleepily. “I guess.”
“Fine. Then tomorrow, I’ll give you one little climax and not bite you.”
She blinked. “What?”
“I know.” He yawned. “You wanted ten. When we get through all ten climaxes without me biting you, then you’ll know you can trust me. And then we’ll make love.”
“What? I can’t agree to that!”
“You already did.” One final tug swept over him, seizing his heart with a burst of pain. With his last breath, he whispered, “Tomorrow.”