Night's Master (Children of The Night 3)

I stuck out my hand. “Hello, friend.”

His hand, large and strong, engulfed mine. “Friends,” he murmured. “Forever.”

Forever. Here was a man who could promise me eternity and mean it. “So, friend,” I asked, “what do you want to do now?”

His smile was slow and oh-so-sexy.

“Never mind that!” I said. “We're friends, remember? Not lovers.”

He was still holding my hand. He squeezed it lightly. “You'll let me know if you change your mind about that?”

I nodded.

“So,” he said, releasing my hand, “do you want to watch a movie or something?”

“Sure.” Picking up the remote, I turned the screen on, then surfed through the channels until I found a movie neither of us had seen before. After a moment's hesitation, I joined Rafael on the sofa, careful to keep a respectable distance between us.

The screen might as well have been blank, the movie silent, for all that I got out of watching it. I couldn't concentrate on the plot, couldn't think of anything but the man sitting beside me. His presence filled the room; his masculine scent teased my nostrils. He rested one arm along the back of the sofa, his hand tantalizingly close to my nape. Even though we weren't touching, I was aware of every breath he took, every glance he slid in my direction. Every time he moved, I went still inside, waiting, wondering if he would reach for me. Friends , I thought. How could I be friends with a man who made me feel this way?

I was almost twenty-four years old. I'd had a number of boyfriends in high school, but nothing really serious until I was a senior. My parents hadn't liked Shane, which only made me more determined to see him. Even when I realized my parents were right about him, I refused to give them the satisfaction of breaking up with him until much later, which pretty much ruined my last year of school.

I didn't get serious about anyone else until Lyle. I was certain he was the man I would marry, the man I would spend the rest of my life with. That, too, had ended badly. Maybe Lyle and I would have lived happily ever after if I'd been willing to compromise my standards, but I'd made it through high school with my virginity intact, thanks to a vow I'd made with my friend, Sherry, who had been my best friend at the time. We had watched the so-called popular girls in school, heard the way the guys talked about the ones who put out, and decided our self-respect was worth more than a one-night stand with the captain of the football team. When I told Lyle I was a virgin and intended to stay that way, he had tried, forcibly, to change my mind. I'd had him arrested. Needless to say, that put an end to our relationship. I'd sworn off men after Lyle.

And now Raphael was here, tempting me with his ebony eyes and his slow, sexy smile. No matter how often I reminded myself that he was a Vampire, it didn't seem to help. He was just the kind of man I had always dreamed of, only he wasn't really a man at all, and I was afraid that allowing myself to care for him wouldn't be a dream come true, but a nightmare. And yet I wanted his touch more than my next breath.

As if he knew what I was thinking, he turned toward me, the heat in his eyes hotter than any fire.

My heart seemed to slow, and then it sped up. I could feel it pounding in my ears. From the way Raphael was looking at me, I knew he could hear it, too, just as I knew that the heat in his eyes wasn't entirely from the urge to make love.

What would it be like, to let him bite me, to know he was drinking my blood?

The thought washed through my veins like ice water, and even though I was loathe to admit it, even to myself, it held a modicum of fascination. In the oldDracula movies, the women always swooned when under Dracula's spell. They never resisted; instead, they bared their throats in silent invitation, their expressions bordering on sheer ecstasy as he bent over their necks, his black cloak settling over them like a shroud.

“Does it hurt?” I asked curiously.

Raphael didn't pretend he didn't know what I was asking. “That depends on the Vampire.”

That was interesting. “In what way?”

“There are some who feed like wild animals. They take what they want without a care for their…” He paused, and I could see him searching for a word that wouldn't frighten or offend me.

“Prey?” I said it for him, since he seemed to be having a hard time.

He nodded. “Others who are more thoughtful make it a pleasant experience.”

“So, how come you never hear anyone talking about how wonderful it is to be some Vampire's dinner?”

“Because we wipe memory of us from their minds.”

“You can do that?”

He nodded again.

“Have you ever done that to me? Bitten me and then made me forget?”

“No, and I never will.”

I hoped he was telling me the truth. “How often do you have to…eat? Drink?”

He shrugged. “Once a week is sufficient to sustain life, though not very satisfying.”

“What if they're drunk? Do you get tipsy?”

“No,” he said, chuckling.

“What if you drink from someone who's got a really bad cold? Or the flu? Do you get sick, too?” Although research scientists had managed to eradicate AIDS and most of the contagious diseases known to man, there was still no cure for the common cold.

“We tend to avoid those who are in ill health, even though their sickness doesn't affect us.”

I wondered if that was common knowledge. I mean, if Vampires could drink tainted blood without it affecting them, maybe scientists could use their blood or DNA to find a cure for the new strain of influenza that had recently been discovered.

“Do you like it?” I asked, my curiosity growing by leaps and bounds. “Drinking blood? I mean, isn't it really gross?”

“It should be, but it isn't.” His gaze slid to my throat. “It's very sweet, actually.”

“Right.”

He laughed softly. “Don't knock it until you've tried it.”

“No, thank you!”

He laughed again, a husky, sexy sound that wrapped itself around me like warm velvet. The attraction between us flared to life, ignited by the heat in his eyes. I wanted to be in his arms, to feel his body pressed against mine, to taste his kisses…and that was all, I assured myself, just a kiss, nothing more, even though my whole body ached with wanting him.

Surely one kiss wouldn't hurt.

“Kathy.” His voice was thick with longing.

“Kiss me.” The words came out in the barest of whispers, but he heard them.

His arm slid around my shoulders, and I leaned into him, closing my eyes as his mouth claimed mine. His lips were firm and cool, his kiss unhurried. I scooted closer, wanting to feel his body pressed against mine. I slid my hand under his shirt, my fingers moving restlessly over his broad back.