Table of Contents
Other ImaJinn Titles by Cynthia Eden
The Vampire’s Kiss
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
Other ImaJinn Titles by Cynthia Eden
The Wizard’s Spell
The Vampire’s Kiss
by
Cynthia Eden
ImaJinn Books
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), events or locations is entirely coincidental.
ImaJinn Books
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Ebook ISBN: 978-1-61026-081-7
Print ISBN: 978-0-975965-39-9
ImaJinn Books is an Imprint of BelleBooks, Inc.
Copyright © 2005 by Cindy Roussos writing as Cynthia Eden
Printed and bound in the United States of America.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.
ImaJinn Books was founded by Linda Kichline.
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Cover design: Debra Dixon
Interior design: Hank Smith
Photo/Art credits:
Couple (manipulated) © Zastavkin | Dreamstime.com
Frame (manipulated) © Atenais | Romantica Frames | Renderosity.com
:Mkvf:01:
Dedication
Mom, after all of the books you bought for me over the years, this one is finally for you. Thanks, Mom, for always supporting me.
Prologue
The evil grows. I can feel its dark touch.
—Entry from the diary of Henry de Montfort,
September 2, 1068
“MARK!” SHE AWOKE screaming her twin brother’s name.
She turned on her bedside lamp with hands that shook. Her gaze flew frantically around her bedroom, and her heart seemed to stop.
She didn’t see her furniture. She didn’t see the antique cherry dresser or chest. She didn’t see the stacks of books that lined her shelves, shelves lovingly made by her grandfather’s hands.
She just saw the blood.
And it was everywhere.
And she felt the evil. The overwhelming evil.
She closed her eyes, desperate to stop the vision.
A man’s terror-filled scream echoed in her mind.
“No!” She shoved her covers aside and jumped from the bed.
In a flash, the vision ended.
She could see her room again. Cloaked in shadows, but recognizable nonetheless.
Her heartbeat pounded desperately in her ears. Her body shook with remembered fear.
Had it been a dream? Just a dream?
She shook her head. It couldn’t have been a dream. It’d felt . . . too real.
She had a sudden desperate urge to call Mark. To hear his voice.
She reached for the phone.
A shrill ring froze her hand.
Her heart stopped.
The phone rang again, its cry eerily like the scream from her dream.
Her fingers shook as she lifted the receiver. “H-hello?”
As she listened to the caller, all of the blood drained from her face. Her body swayed and the phone dropped from her nerveless fingers.
Strange icy prickles shot across her skin. Lights flashed before her eyes.
Her body fell to the floor.
And she stumbled back into the dreams of a dead man.
Chapter One
Like a child, I fear the darkness.
—Entry from the diary of Henry de Montfort,
September 8, 1068
SAVANNAH DANIELS gathered her strength and pulled herself over the high granite wall. She slipped over its edge and fell to the ground, landing with a soft thud. Blood covered her body and her torn clothes.
It was a miracle that she’d made it up the mountain.
Her small rental car had died on her hours ago. Halfway up the treacherous mountain road, it had sputtered once and then stopped. Steam had burst from beneath the Toyota’s hood. No amount of begging, pleading or cursing had been able to start the engine again.
She’d gotten out of the car, and she’d done the only thing that she could. She’d walked. For miles, she’d walked along the graveled road. Walked until her feet ached, until blisters grew on her heels and toes.
She’d kept walking, long after the graveled road had ended. She’d climbed under the barbed wire fence, ripping her clothes and the skin of her arms and back.
The stone wall had been her last hurdle. The last obstacle in her path.
She could see the house now, its imposing stone structure standing stark and strong against the mountain.
Thin streams of light shone from its high, Gothic windows. The light seemed to beckon her, promising her safety from the dark night, if only she would come inside.
For a moment, the howling of the wind quieted, and Savannah stared in silence at what lay before her.
She knew what she would find inside the walls of that house.
A monster.
A man.
A demon.
A savior.
For the past six months, she’d researched him carefully. She’d learned every detail that she could about William Dark. Every horrifying detail.
Sometimes, she woke screaming in the night, his name upon her lips.
But the nightmares did not matter.
She needed William Dark. She needed the monster. She needed the man. And she would have him.
She approached the house slowly, almost timidly. Her tennis shoes crunched over the wet gravel. It had rained earlier in the day, and the air still smelled of the shower.
There was no sound in the courtyard. No birds chirping. No dogs barking. Not even the howl of the wind intruded on this quiet space.
She was the only intruder. Her stomach clenched, and she swallowed several times to relieve the tightness in her throat. Her heart pounded furiously. She wondered if he could hear the desperate beating.
From their perch high atop the house, two hideous gargoyles glared down at her, warning her away from their master. Savannah lifted her bruised chin in silent challenge. She had not let her friends dissuade her from her journey. She certainly would not be frightened off by two statues! Even if they did seem to stare down at her, their glittering eyes following her every move.
Finally, she stood before a tall, wooden door. A
cross had been crudely etched into its surface. She stared at the spiritual sign, wondering at its presence. At its meaning in this place of darkness.
It didn’t belong there.
Neither did she.
But she wasn’t going to leave. Not until she’d gotten what she needed.
She took a deep breath.
The door opened before she could even lift her hand to knock against its hard surface. He opened the door. For a moment, she could only stare up at him in stunned surprise. Even in the night’s shadow, she could tell that it was he.
He towered over her slender form. He was tall, easily over six feet, and his broad shoulders seemed to fill the doorframe. His long midnight hair was pulled back and clasped at the base of his neck. His eyes, a burning coal-black, seemed to glow as they stared piercingly into her own.
She’d seen a sketch of him before, of course. She’d known what he looked like. But seeing him up close was an entirely different matter.
She hadn’t realized just how high and strong his cheekbones were, or how sensual his lips would be. His nose was perfectly straight, if a little sharp. His brow was high and elegant. He was an attractive man, even with the thin scar that sliced down his left cheek.
She knew how he had gotten that scar.
She knew everything about the man before her.
He was dressed in black, the color accentuating his tawny skin and making him look almost . . . sinister.
He stood within the shadows, watching her.
Finally, he spoke. “You are not welcome here.” His voice was a purr, a seductive contrast to the harsh words. A slight English accent marked his formal words.
Savannah was not surprised by his abruptness. After all, it was the greeting that she’d expected. In a quick rush, she said, “I must speak with you, Mr. Dark.” Her voice shook with intensity. He had to let her inside the house. He had to!
His head lifted slightly. Did curiosity flicker faintly in the depths of his black eyes? Savannah couldn’t tell, not for certain.
“Must you?” he queried. His voice seemed to wrap around her, to sink into her.
She shook her head, clearing the sudden fog from her mind. “Let me come inside,” Savannah entreated, trying in vain to stare around his shadowed body and glimpse the interior of the manor. “We have to talk. It’s urgent.”
He shook his head and stepped forward into a thin beam of light. “You are not welcome here,” he repeated.
Savannah gathered her courage and stared at the man before her. “Please let me come inside. It’s a matter of life or death.”
A single black brow lifted. His gaze slowly traveled from the top of her head to the bottom of her sodden shoes. “You are a very stubborn woman, Ms.—”
“Daniels,” She supplied in a rush. “My name is Savannah Daniels.”
He nodded, as if he had already known her name. “You may come inside, but only for a moment.” He stepped back, opening the entranceway to his home.
She exhaled heavily. Sudden relief made her tired body tremble. He was letting her inside! Now, if only she could convince him to help her.
Her body brushed against his as she slipped into the house. Her shoulder casually touched his chest. For a moment, his black eyes flared red.
She hurriedly moved away and into the foyer. William lifted his arm and indicated an open door to the right. She nodded and stepped into the room.
A warm fire crackled in the fireplace. She immediately walked to it and lifted her hands, eager to feel the warmth. She was so cold. Had been cold, for so long. Ever since that night . . .
William continued to watch her, his stare hard and unflinching.
Savannah wondered what he saw when he looked at her. She glanced nervously down at herself. She knew she looked horrible. Her clothes and hair were a complete mess.
But even on a good day, she’d never considered herself to be a great beauty. Her hair was too curly, the color too red. True, it was thick and cut to fall lightly against her shoulders, but she’d always hated the bright color.
Her body was small and slender. In her heels, she stood at five foot five. She’d lost a lot of weight in the last year, so now she looked particularly delicate. Almost frail.
She exhaled heavily.
There was nothing she could do about her appearance. Besides, that didn’t matter.
Her hands clenched into small fists, and she turned resolutely from the fire.
“I need your help.” The words echoed in the great room.
William lounged in a large, cushioned chair. “My help? What is it exactly that you need me to do, Ms. Daniels?”
She swallowed and moved to take the chair opposite him. She’d known this wasn’t going to be easy. She cleared her throat and looked deeply into the darkness of his eyes. “I need you to kill someone,” she said simply, clearly.
He blinked. Once. Twice. “Excuse me?”
Savannah licked her lips. His eyes followed the nervous movement. “I need you to kill someone,” she repeated, her gaze locked with his.
William laughed. He threw back his dark head and roared. His shoulders shook with mirth. Still smiling, he turned in his chair to study the young woman before him.
In truth, she was all flaming hair and eyes. She rather reminded him of a fairy. A small, lost little fairy.
It was a pity that she’d wandered into his realm.
Her face was a delicate oval. Her skin was incredibly translucent. Her nose was small, and her lips were temptingly full. Yet, it was her eyes that caught and held his attention. They were the greenest eyes that he had ever seen. Dark, deep, emerald eyes. Her rioting red curls contrasted richly with her eyes, giving her a strangely fey quality.
His gaze traveled down her body. Her breasts were small, gentle mounds that thrust proudly against her gray sweatshirt. Her nipples were pebbled slightly from the cold. Her hips were small, almost boyish, and her slender legs were encased in a pair of faded blue jeans.
The faint scent of blood clung to her body. The scent called softly to him, tempted him.
He took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. One of his hands lifted to rub against the hard line of his jaw. What sort of game was the little fairy playing? Surely she did not think to tangle with one such as he . . .
“What makes you think I would kill someone?” he drawled, his voice soft. He watched her carefully, noting the slight tremor in her hands.
Her green eyes narrowed. “I know about you,” she whispered, her fingers curling into the chair’s armrest.
His body stilled. “What is it that you think you know?” The amusement of moments before was gone. Ice coated his words.
“I know your secret, Mr. Dark.” Her voice was a hushed thread of sound.
William felt a sudden tension stretch through his body. He studied the fairy very carefully. He considered reaching into the depths of her mind, but he discarded the notion almost immediately. He wanted to see what truths she would reveal on her own. Or what lies.
“I know who you are.” She paused, and then said softly, “Or rather, I know what you are.” Her full lips curled tentatively. “You might say that I’m something of an expert on you.”
His own lips curved just slightly, though he knew that no trace of warmth filled his smile. “An expert? On me?” Rage filled him, but with an effort, he managed to keep his voice controlled as he asked, “Why am I so important to you? I assure you, my life is not that exciting.”
She leaned forward. “On the contrary, your life is fascinating.”
A sudden crash of thunder echoed in the distance.
“I am a man, no more, no less. My life is like any other.”
She vehemently shook her head. “You are much more than a man, Mr. Dark, and we both know that.”
She took a deep breath. “I know what you are,” she whispered. “I know.”
His jaw clenched. “You know nothing.” He stood abruptly. “It’s time that you left.”
She jumped from her chair and took a step toward him. “I’m not leaving. I need your help!”
He shook his head once. “I cannot help you, lady. I can’t help anyone.”
“I need you.” Dark intensity filled her words and her gaze.
William frowned. He rose and walked slowly toward her. His fingers lifted and curled around her delicate chin. He stared down at her, a furrow between his brows. “You don’t even know me.”
“I know everything about you.”
His head cocked to the side. “And what you know—it makes you think that I would kill someone?”
She swallowed. “Yes.”
“You think I’m a killer?” he asked, just to be certain.
“Yes.” Savannah’s body tensed as she waited for his reaction.
He smiled. His fingers stroked the delicate line of her jaw. “I think you’re confused. Very, very confused. I’m not a killer. I’m just a man. A man who wants to be left alone.” He released her and walked toward the crackling fire.
“You were a man once,” she agreed. “But you’re not any longer. You stopped being just a man almost a thousand years ago.”
He turned and lunged toward her in a blur of speed. His right hand locked around the slender column of her throat. Her pulse pounded furiously beneath the cool touch of his fingers.
She spoke quickly, knowing she had not a moment to lose. The beast had been roused. “In 1038, you were born William de Montfort. In battle, you earned the name William the Dark. It was said that you earned that name because of your love for the dark arts. It was the evil magic you used then that made you into what you are now.”
His fingers eased their tight hold and began to tenderly stroke the sensitive skin of her throat. “And what am I, Ms. Daniels?”