Chapter 2

 

 

 

Why was I torturing myself like this? This was the definition of insanity. I let her go once, and it nearly broke me. I should have stayed hidden in that dark, paneled room that was more like a cozy library. I never should have let her know I was here.

I should have left, headed to the airport, and booked the next flight to Italy.

Of my 131 years, twenty-eight were as a human. I hadn’t been pure by any means, and I hadn’t changed my ways when I became vampire. All those women and only once had I become infatuated to the point I could focus on nothing else.

Abigail.

Vampires and humans could not live happily ever after, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to turn her. I’ve never turned anyone, and I never will, for all my eternal life. It wasn’t fair to steal someone’s actual life from them. Some, like Abigail’s sister, would say being a vampire was better, but she didn’t yet understand. In twenty years, when her parents were gone, in fifty, when she realized her family lineage had ceased forever, in a hundred…then she’d understand and it would be far, far too late.

I shouldn’t still be here. When Anya invited us into the backyard, I should have taken my leave and avoided coming back until Abigail went back to her human life. Preferably not here in Chicago, partially so I wouldn’t have to worry about bumping into her but mostly because it was too damn dangerous here right now, with Hollis on the loose. He was a wild card. I had no idea to what length he’d go to exact vengeance on someone he believed had wronged him.

Actually, I knew all too well how far he’d go, and Abigail was in danger purely due to her connection to Cam, through Anya. A hum an was no match for any vampire, let alone one as old and heartless as Hollis.

She needed to go home before he became aware she was in the city.

I tried several times to inject my opinion into the conversation, which mostly consisted of Anya telling Abigail how wonderful it was to be a vampire. Abigail’s eyes grew wider and wider with each detail. Damn it to hell.

It must have been my annoyance that caused me to leap to my feet when, shortly after midnight, Abigail stood and stretched and her breasts pressed against the thin cotton of her dress.

“Let me show you to your room,” I blurted, the words rushing out of my mouth. Cam arched an eyebrow and Anya giggled and I ignored both of them.

I couldn’t ignore Abigail’s hopeful look, though, and it should have been enough for me to change my mind. But it wasn’t. The only other point in either of my lives that someone had been able to circumvent my self-control like this was shortly after I’d been turned, when my maker had complete reign. But that had been a matter of sustenance. I needed to feed in order to survive. This … this was madness, pure and simple.

“Which room is mine?” Abigail asked, and I was given at least a brief reprieve when Anya instructed her to take the one at the top of the stairs to the left. If she had given her a room in the basement, I might well and truly have been a goner, because then I could not only spend the night with Abigail but the day as well.

Now, I had no more than seven hours to convince myself to keep my hands off her, and she would likely fall asleep at some point before dawn, so…surely, I could do this.

It would be smarter if I left now.

“Let me get that for you,” I said when Abigail reached for her bag as we crossed the foyer.

“Thanks,” she said, and I was momentarily blinded by her beautiful smile, until my gaze caught the bottle of wine and two glasses in her hands. Clearly, the woman had plans and they involved me, and, God help me, I wanted her follow through with them.

As much as I didn’t.

I swear, if I were human, all these conflicted feelings would have given me a heart attack by now.

Stepping into the bedroom behind Abigail, I noted a king-sized bed covered with a blue and khaki plaid comforter facing French doors that led to a small balcony overlooking the backyard. Releasing my hold on her luggage, I stalked over to pull the curtains closed over the doors so Anya and Cam, who were still sitting outside, were not subject to a view of the kinky fuckery I anticipated and yet still held out hope would not happen tonight.

When I turned around, Abigail was bent over her open suitcase, her flouncy skirt riding high enough on her thighs that my hands itched to reach out and flip it over her back, to see what sort of panties she wore over that heart-shaped ass.

She straightened and glanced over her shoulder, then fully turned around, holding a thigh-high, silky negligée by the spaghetti straps. “Do you mind if I slip into this?”

“You’re trying to seduce me.” And it’s working.

“Yes, and it’s annoying that I even have to try.”

I almost laughed. My sexy, mouthy Abigail. Oh, how her mouth had felt wrapped around my cock while I lounged against the headboard, one hand finger combing her hair while the other toyed with one of her nipples until I’d been unable to take a moment more and twisted her onto her back, positioned my body between her legs and…

“You never have to try. That’s the problem.” I made a beeline for the wine she’d placed on the nightstand and poured a hefty amount into one of the glasses. “Would you care for some?”

“Please.” Ignoring the way her gaze raked my body as she murmured the word, I filled the second glass and held it out to her.

We both silently sipped, she appearing calm as a cucumber while my brain worked feverishly, alternating between trying to force out a good-bye and making my feet move toward the door and a slideshow in which every moment we’d spent together six months ago flashed before my inner eye, reminding me of everything I’d given up. And letting me know that if I wanted to open that particular can of worms again, she was here, standing before me, ready and more than willing to accommodate my needs, my lust, my obsession.

Stop!

“Tell me what you’ve been up to,” I said, an effort to shut off the inner turmoil. “Have you met someone?” Why did I ask such a question? I didn’t want to know the answer. Yes would mean there was potentially no future for us; no would mean the same damn thing, except I’d have less ammunition for that side of my brain telling me to run away with my tail between my legs.

She laughed, the sound forced. “I can’t believe you just asked me that. Why do you think I’m here?”

“Because you hate the farm and you want to find a job in the city?” Which, by the way, I needed to convince her not to do. I had connections out west, in San Francisco and Seattle. I could make a few arrangements and ship her off, ensuring her safety and my sanity.

“Oh my God.” She stared at me like she hadn’t really looked at me all evening. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

“What?” My eyes narrowed, the glass hovering an inch from my lips.

“I’m here for you. I want you.”

She stepped closer, so close I had to move my glass, hold my arm out to my side, so she could sidle up and rub her breasts against my chest. Her nipples puckered, sharp points I wanted to bite before I suckled until she moaned and writhed with pleasure. Clenching my fists and gritting my teeth, I tried to resist touching her, but my self-control had fizzled out with those candles on her birthday cake.

Twenty. She wasn’t even twenty yet. I was twenty-eight when I was turned, eight years older than her, and I’d still felt as though my entire life had been taken from me. At not quite twenty she hadn’t even begun to live hers.

A small moan pushed past her lips, and she lifted her arms. Somehow, I found the strength to step away before she touched me again.

She blinked, confusion marring her features, and I turned away and took a swallow of wine. “You don’t fight fair,” I stated flatly. “I can barely resist you.”

“Then don’t.”

An arm snaked around my waist, pulling me to her so that her front pressed against my back. She slid her hand under the hem of my shirt, her nails gently scraping my skin. I closed my eyes and didn’t move away. Instead, I turned my head slightly and breathed in her scent: magnolias and wine and sugar and cocoa from that cake she’d eaten earlier. I wasn’t hungry; I’d indulged in a courtesan only last night, but I still wanted a nip, a taste of her blood. There was no better dessert than my precious Abigail.

She swiveled her hips, rubbing against my ass, while her hand traveled south. When her fingertips grazed my erection, it was like she’d flipped a switch. I couldn’t say no any longer. I needed this as much as she seemed to.

One night. I could handle one more night, couldn’t I? Letting her go the first time had nearly broken me, so I should know better, but clearly, she was a master at seduction. Or perhaps it was my obsession for her. I’d had far more skilled women in my long existence, and none made me remotely as lust-crazed as this one did.

Wrapping my arm around her back, I twisted us both, switching our positions so that her ass now rested against my throbbing erection. Dipping my head, I nipped at her bare shoulder, sliding my fang back and forth over her skin but not penetrating. Yet.

She cupped my backside and her other hand threaded into my hair. I pressed my hardness against her ass and gathered the hem of her dress in my hand so I could get to what was underneath. Her naked flesh, the gathering wetness and heat that was all for me.

“One more night,” I said, as if vocalizing my thoughts would somehow give me strength to follow through on the promise. I slipped my hand under the elastic of her panties; my fingers found her shaved mound.

“What?” she said, wiggling, which I took to mean she wanted more. So I pushed my hand lower until it slid through wetness. She arched and moaned and then said, “What did you say?”

No idea. I couldn’t even recall speaking at this point. My entire focus was on the task at hand. She needed an orgasm, multiple ones. I needed to ensure she never forgot this night after I sent her back to her human life.

“I want more,” she said, shifting her hips.

“I’ll give you more. We’ve all night, love.”

“No.” There was a touch of impatience to her voice now. She wasn’t struggling for more—she was trying to get away from me. I tugged my hand out of her panties and turned her around to face me. Her eyes were bright, her color high, her hair mussed, and she looked so damn fuckable, I wanted to pick her up and toss her onto the bed and ravish her for the rest of our time together.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, my impatience matching hers. Now that I’d made this decision, I didn’t want to waste a single moment.

“This.” She waved her finger between the two of us. “I don’t want one night. I want all of eternity.”

All of eternity?

She wanted me to turn her.

This time it was me who uttered “no,” even as I backed away toward the door.

Her eyes widened. “But—”

“No. I will not turn you. I will not do that to you.”

“But we’re so good together, Parnell. Why can’t you see that?”

“I do. That’s why I sent you away. And why I should never have responded when Davos let me know you were here.”

Her face clouded, the heat of arousal turning to fury. “You want me. I know you do.”

“I’ve never denied it.”

“Then turn me so we can be together forever.”

“No. No.” I stumbled as I reached out blindly, searching for the door. I had to get out of here, get away from her. She didn’t understand. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

I shook my head. She would never understand. “I can’t.”

And then I fled.