A WHISPER OF ETERNIT

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skin a sickly gray.

He swallowed hard, his hunger at war with his conscience. She was almost past saving. Should he let her go?

He lowered his head, his tongue flicking across her throat to taste a single crimson drop. Warmth flowed through him. What harm to take the rest when she was at death's door?

He lowered his head again, mouth watering in anticipation.

And then he thought ofTracy . He had told her he had not killed for many years. She would not approve of what he was about to do.

He reared back, his gaze narrowed as he looked at the woman lying on the ground. He had only moments to decide. She was perhaps thirty, a little on the plump side. Her hair was light brown, plastered to her head by the rain. The gold band on her left hand gleamed dully in the moonlight. He swore softly. She was married. No doubt she had children.

With a low growl, he tore open his wrist and held it to her lips."Drink!"
It was a command, not a request.

Unable to resist the compulsion in his voice, the woman opened her mouth and swallowed. Almost immediately, her color returned, her pulse grew stronger.

As strength returned, she clutched his wrist to her mouth with both hands and she drank as though ravenous.

With a cry, Dominic wrenched his arm away from her.

Only then did she open her eyes. She stared up at him, her expression bewildered.

Dominic stared deep into her eyes. "You will not remember any of this," he said, his voice low, hypnotic. "You will not remember me, or the one who attacked you. Is that clear?"

Shenodded, the movement sluggish.

Rising, he pulled the woman to her feet. "Go home."

She blinked up at him, then turned and walked down the alley, her steps slow and unsteady. She didn't look back.

With a thought, Dominic arrived inTracy 's bedroom.

She was in bed, asleep. Her long honey-colored hair was spread out on the pillow, a splash of gold against the pale blue pillowcase.

He gazed down at her, all else forgotten as he admired the gentle curves of her figure, the perfection of her countenance, the way her lashes lay on her cheeks, the length of a long, shapely leg. He had followed her for centuries and now, at last, she was almost his. This time, he thought, this time he would have her.