Love's Eternal Embrace (3 page)

A hungry look entered her gaze as she leaned
forward. Her breast pressed against his chest. “You have such thick
dark hair,” she whispered near his ear as her fingers slid through
the strands. “Your heart beats so fast.” A low growl escaped her
lips. Her finger lifted his chin to the side, exposing his throat
to her tongue. “Just one taste of purity.” Pinpricks stabbed into
his flesh, startling him. He pushed at her, but her hand closed
over his, in a grip he couldn’t break. She sucked and rode him
until the erotic sensation took over, making him pant for more.

She loosened her grip and his hands slid to
her hips as she fed on his neck. A fleeting thought entered his
subconscious.
She drinks your blood. You could die if she takes
too much.
But he pushed the thought away as the euphoria took
him over the edge. God help him, he didn’t want her to stop. The
long ragged groan of release escaped his lips as shudders wracked
his body. If he died tonight, he would go happily.

Chapter Five

Liam woke with a start, bolting upright. The
world weaved in and out, but he steadied himself. He was no longer
at the keep, but in the forest. There was no fire to keep him warm.
He glanced down at himself, his hands sliding over his garments. He
was fully dressed. Had he imagined the whole erotic encounter?
“No.” He refused to believe it. “Glamis?” he shouted her name,
causing the birds to fly away in protest. All else was still. Where
had she gone? How did he end up back here? His hand went to the
side of his neck where the skin felt tender. He pulled his hand
away expecting to see blood where he knew Glamis had fed from him,
but his skin remained unmarred.

At the sound of rustling to the side of him,
he withdrew his sword.

The sun’s rays had seeped in through the
branches, giving off some warmth, but not enough to ward off the
chill that spread over him. “Who goes there?”

Loucetios broke through the foliage.

Liam lowered his sword and leaned on the
hilt. “And where have you been, my friend, while I was dreaming
about beautiful maidens who desired my blood?”

Loucetios stomped his hoof and shook his head
with a snort of disproval.

“Hmm… Well, I suppose I do deserve your
disapproval. Falling off your back proves a novice act, but then
you did rise up on your hind legs for no good reason.”

He sheathed his sword and strode over to
Loucetios. He ran the palm of his hand down the horse’s neck. “She
seemed so real, Loucetios. So real.” His gaze looked toward the
looming trees of oak and birch with longing for his fair lady.

He mounted Loucetios with ease, urging his
horse forward.

In the daylight, the forest didn’t hold the
ominous appeal. Birds busied themselves building nests, while the
other animals of the forest scurried away in the foliage as he
rode.

Nothing looked out of the ordinary, but he
couldn’t shake the feeling that what happened last night was not of
this realm. He shook his head and chuckled at the absurdity of his
claim. The bump on his head was the culprit. As his father would
tell him,
“What did you expect to happen with you going off on
your own in the forbidden forest drunk off your arse?”

He should be thankful a pack of wolves didn’t
attack him and leave his bones there to be discovered by the next
fool.

He didn’t relish the thought of facing the
men at the Tavern Inn. He boasted of slaying fiends, but he would
return empty handed with only a fantasy the Church would see fit to
condemn him to death.

He broke through the trees and the sun beat
down on him, making him squint his eyes in protest. He raised his
arm as a shield. “Saints preserve us.” He rubbed his face. Then
drew back, startled. His fingers gingerly felt the hair on his
chin. As soon as he left the order, he took a sharp blade to his
face to keep his skin smooth, but the whiskers had grown in thick
overnight. He blinked as the sun’s rays made his eyes water. The
sun seemed so much closer to the earth this morning with its
brilliance.

“Let’s go, Loucetios.” He nudged his horse
into movement to cross the meadow and head for the village waiting
in the distance.

He was no coward and he would face the men
and tell them… What exactly? The tavern loomed like a bad omen in
front of him, but still he would not back down.

Face the bard and tell your tale.
His
father lectured him when he was but a lad.

He’d rather be drawn and quartered than
reveal to the men he fell off his mount and hit his head. His
reputation would be ruined. He’d have to come up with a fanciful
rendition. As he dismounted, he wondered how good of a storyteller
he could be.

He entered the stable and found Cormac
crouched in the corner like a forgotten waif.

“What is with the long face, boy?”

Upon hearing his voice, Cormac flew to his
feet, his dark eyes wide and unbelieving as if he saw a ghost
before him.

“Oh Sir, you have returned. I thought never
to see you again.”

“Do not be so dramatic, Cormac. Of course I
would return.” A grumbling noise had him staring at his squire with
a raised brow. The boy was thin as a willow branch and it wasn’t
from lack of feeding him. “When you’re finished come inside the
Tavern and break fast with me. I will not have you scaring the
horse with that noise your stomach is prone to make.”

“Aye, Sir. I will come directly.”

Without a backward glance, he strode out of
the stables and headed toward the tavern. As he entered, the room
fell silent as it did the night he arrived. If he didn’t know
better, he would believe the men were surprised to see him. The
fear in their eyes shone bright and a few crossed themselves and
ran out of the tavern.

He ignored their peculiar ways and sat down
at the table in the back. The scent of cooked meat made his stomach
rumble. It would seem he had something in common with his squire.
The tavern owner licked his lips nervously, his steps unsure as he
approached and kept a safe distance away.

“I will not bite, Jarvis,” he grumbled with
impatience. It was probably not the best way to put the man at
ease.

“What may I fetch for you, Sir?”

“Whatever it is I smell cooking on the fire
and a tankard of ale. Make it two. I expect my squire to join
me.”

“Coming right up.” He scurried away like a
mouse being pursued by a cat.

His gaze surveyed the remaining occupants who
gaped at him opened mouth. It was discerning to be under such
scrutiny. Maybe it would be best to tell them he failed with his
quest to slay a demon. “Listen,” he announced. Their movements
stilled and sweat beaded their brows as if they were cornered
animals. He cleared his throat. “I spent the night in the forbidden
forest, but encountered no living soul.” There, he had not lied.
His encounter was a fantasy caused by a bump on the head and
nothing more. “Your stories of the undead are not true, or perhaps
she was afraid of my sword.” He tapped his sword at his side,
trying to lighten the mood.

The tavern owner approached again, but
glanced back at the others. “Leave Sir Liam alone now. He done told
you what he found. Be off with you all.”

He’d never seen a room vacate so fast. His
brow lifted as he stared at the tavern owner for an explanation.
Jarvis placed a plate and the tankard down, but before he could
escape, Liam’s hand whipped out, grabbing him by his forearm.

“Please, Sir.” Jarvis’ eyes widened in
fear.

Liam let him go and lifted his hands in
surrender. “I mean you no harm. I just want to know why everyone is
frightened of me.”

“Sir, if I may be so bold, you have been gone
near three days. We thought you were dead.”

Chapter Six

“Three days.” Liam leaned against the door of
his room that he had rented from Jarvis. How could this be? No
wonder he was famished. No wonder his squire looked half starved.
He thought his time in the forbidden forest a fantasy from a bump
on the head, but he could not have been unconscious for three days.
He rubbed his jaw, a beard filled in proving days had passed
without his knowledge. He strode over to the looking glass nailed
over the water basin. His gaze caught sight of his reflection. The
distorted glass made him look haunted. His eyes appeared a lighter
shade of blue and his pallor looked ghostlike with dark rings under
his eyes. “Good Lord, I look like I have been in a fist fight and
lost. No wonder the town folk shied away from me.”

As he cleaned up and made himself
presentable, he turned his head and caught sight of two small
pinpricks on his neck. He ran his fingers over the marks. A flash
of his angel with fangs crossed his mind. “She fed on my blood.”
His imagination could not produce two distinct pinpricks.

He must go back to the forest. He must learn
what happened to him there. He tried to convince himself this was
the case, but in truth he wanted to find Glamis and prove she
wasn’t a fantasy brought on by lack of food and water. He was a
knight, a warrior. He was not a man prone to delusions.

He waited until all were sleeping before he
ventured out. He thought to bring a torch, but his vision wasn’t
hampered with the moon high in the sky.

Loucetios was a bit skittish and he had to
soothe the horse before mounting him for his midnight
adventure.

He entered the forest in hopes of finding
Glamis, but if not her, the keep where he made love to her before a
roaring fire.

When Loucetios would go no further, he
dismounted. “Be safe, my friend. I hope to see you in the
morning.”

Loucetios whinnied in protest, but Liam would
not be dissuaded. He hit Loucetios’s rump and set him galloping
away. He continued down the path on foot, his hand on the hilt of
his sword.

The wind picked up in a swirl of dirt and
leaves. The whispers of warning tickled his ears, but he refused to
go back. “Glamis, where are you?”

“Here, Sir Knight.”

He whirled around with his sword drawn. How
had she come upon him so quickly with nary a sound? “What are
you?”

“I believe you know, Sir Knight, or at least
suspect.” She glanced at his drawn sword. “Have you come to slay me
then? Bring back my head as a prize?”

His brows furrowed. She was beautiful with
her mahogany strands gleaming like dark wine. Her eyes the color of
blue, not to be matched, waited for him to answer. She’d been
flirting with him playfully, harmlessly, but he knew she wasn’t a
lass to betray with lies and expect to live to tell the tale. He’d
seen enough battles to know when an enemy would give up or if he
would fight to the death. Glamis would not be taken willingly. In
truth, he did not want to harm her. She was the first woman he’d
taken to his bed. She showed him the wonders of making love and by
God, he wanted to show her he was an apt student. How could he slay
the woman he could fall in love with? As much as he wanted her, he
was not a fool. He kept his sword ready. “The villagers have named
you a fiend. They say you have killed, draining your victims of
their blood.”

She sighed as she continued to study him with
eyes as sharp and adept as his. “Do you wish me to tell you the
truth, Sir Knight?”

He nodded. “Aye, you owe me the truth.”

“So be it. What the villagers claim is true.”
Her response was delivered in a cool, distant tone.

She murdered men and didn’t blink an eye or
show remorse for her deeds. He’d been fooled by her feminine façade
that hid her killer instincts. She deserved to die, but something
in her eyes, in the way she looked at him gave him pause. For a
fleeting second, he caught a glimpse of her heart, unprotected and
exposed for him to see the loneliness, the longing for more than
what life offered thus far. He knew all about yearning for a
different life. “Why?”

Sucking in a shallow breath, she tore her
gaze away. It was the first time she let her defenses down. “I must
take nourishment as you must. I require blood.” Her gaze found his
once more with a plea for him to understand. “I cannot survive
otherwise.”

“You are a vampire.”

“As many have called me, a human name born
out of fear. The formal name is
Dearg-due
.” Her chin lifted
and her shoulders pulled back. Proud she was of her lineage.

His world felt a little off centered and he
took a moment to digest what she had revealed to him. He had a
hunch her other victims were not given the same courtesy as she
gave him, which only proved to bewilder him. “Why did you not kill
me?”

She tilted her head to the side as her gaze
slid over him in appreciation. “You are different. You were not
tainted.”

He chuckled without mirth, her words stinging
his pride. “My purity saved me. The church will be pleased to know
virtue is still held in high esteem, even to a
Dearg-due
.”

“You misunderstand,
human
.” He
supposed she had the right to snub his human status. His tone
surely spoke of what he thought of her.

His eyes narrowed. “Explain then. Please,” he
added. He did not want to offend her again.

“You have courage. You did not run when fear
whispered in your ear to flee.”

“A knight never runs away.”

She nodded. “You did not fight me when I
fed.” She touched her neck lightly as if to remind him of her
bestowed kiss.

“I wish it were not so, but stopping you was
not an option. I knew what you were doing and I wanted you anyway.”
Since they were baring their souls, he would not hold back
either.

She nodded once more. “And finally, your
blood calls to me, Sir Knight. I could not kill what I craved. It
would be foolish on my part.”

“So it is the blood you want and not more.”
Bitterness laced his words at being used to sustain her life and
nothing more. He gave himself to her. She was a fiend who killed to
survive and he was a knight sworn to follow all rules sanctioned by
his rank. He sinned and he did so willingly. He would not deny the
fact, but he wanted to know it was for a good reason.