Embrace the Night

Page 206



For Sarah…

With an oath, he rose to his feet, needing to get out of the house. She had spent but one night here, and yet the walls whispered her name, the air was tinged with her perfume, his very soul had been branded with her essence.

On swift and silent feet, he walked the moon-dappled streets. Pity any poor human who stumbled across his path tonight, he thought darkly. For there was no compassion within him now, no mercy for those weaker than himself, only a terrible hunger coupled with a seething rage. He wanted to hurt someone as he was hurting, to drain the life out of another as the will to live was being drained from his soul.

For centuries, he had wandered the earth alone, with no one to love, no one to love him. And then he had found Sara Jayne, and she had given meaning to his existence, but, all too soon, death had claimed her. And now he, who had thought never to love again, had found another woman who warmed his heart, who possessed the same strength of spirit as the woman he had lost.

He stalked the darkness, drawn inevitably toward the park. Hoping, all the while, that she'd had the good sense to heed his warning and stay away.

His gaze pierced the darkness as soon as he entered the park. And she was there, a bright beacon in the blackness of the night.

He would leave, he told himself. He would stay just long enough to see her face, to breathe in her scent, and then he would leave.

On silent feet, he drew ever nearer, drawn toward her as though he had no will of his own.

And then he was there beside her, his whole being vibrating with her nearness as he sat down on the bench, warming himself in the welcome of her smile.

She didn't speak, but he read everything she was thinking, feeling, in the depth of her eyes. She was afraid. She was lonely. She needed comfort, the nearness of another being. She wanted him, and that frightened her more than anything else.

"Sarah…"

Trapped in the web of his gaze, she slowly shook her head. "I can't. I'm afraid." "Of me?"

"Yes."

"I won't hurt you," he promised, and hoped it was a vow he could keep.

"I don't even know you," she retorted, angry with him for making her feel alive again, angry with herself for wanting this man when David was dead.

But he knew her. He looked deep into her eyes, and he knew her. Recognition mingled with shock. The improbability, the possibilities, struck him with the force of a blow. He knew her. She was older than