Read Online Midnight Embrace by Amanda Ashley - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Amanda Ashley
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black, the wind scattering sodden leaves and small branches. Thunder rumbled like distant drums across the heavens.
Turning, she ran through the forest, heedless of her direction, ran until the trees were far behind and she found herself in the middle of a small meadow.
She stopped abruptly, peering through the rain's gray haze. Was she imagining things? Wrapping her arms around her waist, she stared at the sight before her. At first glance, there appeared to be a small cottage made of gray stone at the far edge of the meadow. Only she had never seen a round cottage before, or one that had no windows and no chimney. The roof, also made of stone, was peaked, reminding her of one of the turrets at the manor house. The door to the cottage was made of iron instead of wood.
Shivering from the cold, she moved closer, taking shelter from the wind and the rain under the slight overhang that extended above the doorway. What manner of place was this? she wondered. Certainly no one would live in a dwelling without windows or a fireplace. Perhaps it had once been used as a jail, or a storage shed.
Convinced that she wasn't about to intrude on someone's home, she reached for the latch. She was still reaching when the door swung open of its own accord. She hesitated a moment, then stepped warily inside.
There was a whoosh of air as the door closed behind her, plunging her into complete and utter darkness.
And the realization that she was not alone.
----
Chapter Seven
She was there. He had sensed her presence the moment she entered the forest. It had been the sweet musical rhythm of her heartbeat that had aroused him. He had lain there, his body heavy, unmoving, trapped in the death-like lethargy that possessed him by day, yet still aware of her nearness. She was forever bound to him by the blood he had taken; a bond that could not be broken, except by her demise, or his.
Her scent, as fresh and clean as the rain, was carried to him on a breath of air. Her skin was almost as cold as his own. The fear coursing through her was a palpable entity as the heavy iron door to his lair whispered shut behind her.
She was right to be afraid, he mused, for he was in desperate need of blood to heal his wounds, to satisfy the voracious hunger that was clawing through him, ravenous as a wild beast. Until his hellish thirst had been quenched, nothing living that crossed his path would be safe.
He fought back the need raging inside him, his senses probing the surrounding area. It was not yet sunset, but the heavy clouds hanging low in the sky gave the appearance of dusk. The woman was the only living creature in the vicinity. His presence had long ago frightened away the wildlife that had once inhabited this part of the estate.
He lifted a hand to his throat, his fingertips exploring the bite marks left by the other vampire. The wounds had not healed; even now they burned with fervent heat, the pain spreading downward, sending fingers of flame sizzling inside his heart and lungs, through his arms and legs, draining him of strength. Was his old enemy suffering the same agony? It had been a brief and bloody battle fought in near silence. If Rodrigo had known how badly he had wounded his opponent, he would not have fled the scene. Alesandro's last attack had been born of desperation and a deep-seated instinct to survive. And now he was paying the price.
Blood. He needed blood to regain his strength, to conquer the pain, and Analisa's called to him like no other, warm and sweet, virgin blood, so pure that it would take only a little to heal him. The urge to go to her was strong, yet fear for her safety held him back. Weak as he was, he doubted his ability to stop before he took too much, before he drank her dry and left nothing but an empty husk behind.
Yet even as he fought the hunger, he was rising, drawn by the pulsing beat of her heart, by the glow of her life's force. He moved swiftly up the narrow winding staircase to the top of the landing,
Turning, she ran through the forest, heedless of her direction, ran until the trees were far behind and she found herself in the middle of a small meadow.
She stopped abruptly, peering through the rain's gray haze. Was she imagining things? Wrapping her arms around her waist, she stared at the sight before her. At first glance, there appeared to be a small cottage made of gray stone at the far edge of the meadow. Only she had never seen a round cottage before, or one that had no windows and no chimney. The roof, also made of stone, was peaked, reminding her of one of the turrets at the manor house. The door to the cottage was made of iron instead of wood.
Shivering from the cold, she moved closer, taking shelter from the wind and the rain under the slight overhang that extended above the doorway. What manner of place was this? she wondered. Certainly no one would live in a dwelling without windows or a fireplace. Perhaps it had once been used as a jail, or a storage shed.
Convinced that she wasn't about to intrude on someone's home, she reached for the latch. She was still reaching when the door swung open of its own accord. She hesitated a moment, then stepped warily inside.
There was a whoosh of air as the door closed behind her, plunging her into complete and utter darkness.
And the realization that she was not alone.
----
Chapter Seven
She was there. He had sensed her presence the moment she entered the forest. It had been the sweet musical rhythm of her heartbeat that had aroused him. He had lain there, his body heavy, unmoving, trapped in the death-like lethargy that possessed him by day, yet still aware of her nearness. She was forever bound to him by the blood he had taken; a bond that could not be broken, except by her demise, or his.
Her scent, as fresh and clean as the rain, was carried to him on a breath of air. Her skin was almost as cold as his own. The fear coursing through her was a palpable entity as the heavy iron door to his lair whispered shut behind her.
She was right to be afraid, he mused, for he was in desperate need of blood to heal his wounds, to satisfy the voracious hunger that was clawing through him, ravenous as a wild beast. Until his hellish thirst had been quenched, nothing living that crossed his path would be safe.
He fought back the need raging inside him, his senses probing the surrounding area. It was not yet sunset, but the heavy clouds hanging low in the sky gave the appearance of dusk. The woman was the only living creature in the vicinity. His presence had long ago frightened away the wildlife that had once inhabited this part of the estate.
He lifted a hand to his throat, his fingertips exploring the bite marks left by the other vampire. The wounds had not healed; even now they burned with fervent heat, the pain spreading downward, sending fingers of flame sizzling inside his heart and lungs, through his arms and legs, draining him of strength. Was his old enemy suffering the same agony? It had been a brief and bloody battle fought in near silence. If Rodrigo had known how badly he had wounded his opponent, he would not have fled the scene. Alesandro's last attack had been born of desperation and a deep-seated instinct to survive. And now he was paying the price.
Blood. He needed blood to regain his strength, to conquer the pain, and Analisa's called to him like no other, warm and sweet, virgin blood, so pure that it would take only a little to heal him. The urge to go to her was strong, yet fear for her safety held him back. Weak as he was, he doubted his ability to stop before he took too much, before he drank her dry and left nothing but an empty husk behind.
Yet even as he fought the hunger, he was rising, drawn by the pulsing beat of her heart, by the glow of her life's force. He moved swiftly up the narrow winding staircase to the top of the landing,
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