Chapter Twenty-Two #2
His arms went around her. Holding her tight, he whispered that he loved her, would always love her, that he would rebuild the house if she would share it with him.
He fell back on the grass, drawing her down on top of him, his hands caressing her back, her thighs, as he nuzzled her breasts, then kissed her again.
“Bryony,” he murmured, his voice husky. “Let me taste you.”
She tensed in his embrace. Lost in the wonder of his kisses, she had momentarily forgotten what he was.
Stefan went still as he waited for her answer. If they were to be together, she would have to get used to letting him drink from her from time to time.
She pushed against his chest and he let her go, sat up when she did.
Leaning toward him, she said, “Look at me.”
His gaze met hers.
“They aren’t red,” she murmured.
He smiled faintly, glad that he had his hunger under control. He didn’t want to feed on her. He merely wanted a small taste. He watched her face as she made her decision.
“Just a little,” she said, and pushed her hair behind her ear.
He drew her into his arms again and rained feather-light kisses across her cheeks, her brow, her chin, before he bit her ever so gently.
She sighed as a delicious warmth spread through her. If she asked, would he bite her again?
Bryony was nervous as she dressed for the party the following night.
There would be a number of people present—friends of her family’s, as well as Veronica’s betrothed and Amy, the lovely young woman Eli was courting.
Thankfully, Lord Bloodworth was out of town and unable to attend.
She wondered how would Stefan feel, surrounded by so many strangers?
Dinner was sure to be a sumptuous meal. How would she explain why he didn’t eat?
Guests began to arrive at seven. They sat down to dinner at eight, and still Stefan did not appear. Had he changed his mind about attending?
At nine, the minstrels arrived and the guests moved into the ballroom.
Bryony was talking with Veronica and some of their friends when Stefan tapped her on the shoulder. “May I have this dance?”
“You came!” Just looking at him made her mouth water. He wore black trousers, a black vest over a white shirt, a navy-blue cravat, and a thigh-length black jacket that emphasized his broad shoulders.
“I said I would, did I not?”
“Yes, but…”
Pressing a finger to her lips, Stefan led her onto the dance floor.
She wore a gown of lavender lace that, though demure, outlined every delectable curve.
A diamond necklace sparkled in the light of a hundred candles, drawing his gaze to her throat.
She had left her hair loose around her shoulders, the way he liked it, pinned back on one side and adorned with a purple flower.
“I thought it would be wise to arrive after dinner.” His gaze lingered on the pulse in the hollow of her throat.
“I thought maybe you would give me a bite?”
She laughed as he twirled her around the floor.
When the song ended, she led him to a secluded corner and tilted her head to the side, giving him access to her throat. She closed her eyes and sighed when he bit her. How strange that something that should have been repulsive felt so wonderful.
She looked up at him when he lifted his head, a low growl rumbling in his throat.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, glancing around.
Stefan studied the three men who had entered the ballroom. Did they intend to attack him here, now?
“Stefan? You’re scaring me.”
He jerked his chin toward the men standing near the doorway. “Those men are hunters.”
“What men? You don’t mean Charles, Mr. Allen and Mr. Sinclair, do you?”
He nodded curtly. “I have seen them here before, speaking with your father.”
“Are you saying…surely you don’t think my father is a vampire hunter?”
“Not anymore.”
She stared up at him. “My father, a hunter? I don’t believe it.”
Stefan shrugged. “’Tis true, nonetheless.” He tensed as Barrett strode toward them.
“Relax, vampire,” he said. “They are here as guests, nothing more.”
Stefan raised a skeptical brow. “Indeed?”
Barrett glanced at his daughter, who was staring at him as if he had suddenly grown two heads. And then he glared at Stefan. “You told her, didn’t you?”
“She has a right to know.”
“If I’d wanted her to know, I would have told her myself.”
“Does my mother know what you do?” Bryony asked, still shocked by Stefan’s revelation.
“Of course not!” Barrett snapped. “And you’re not going to tell her. I’m out of the game now. The past no longer matters.”
With a shake of her head, Bryony grabbed Stefan’s arm and dragged him onto the dance floor.
“Calm down, love,” Stefan said, taking her in his arms. “Nothing is going to happen.”
“I can’t believe it! My father was a hunter? And all this time, none of us knew!”
“It is not the kind of thing people talk about,” Stefan said, drawing her closer. “Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?”
His voice, soft and low, wrapped around her, making her forget about her father and think only of Stefan’s kisses.
She closed her eyes as he lowered his head to claim her lips with his.
For a moment, nothing else mattered, no one else existed, only Stefan, his arms tight around her, his mouth ravaging hers in a soul-shattering kiss.
When he lifted his head, she felt bereft. “Don’t stop.”
He smiled down at her. “The music has ended.”
“Has it?” She glanced around. They were the last couple on the floor. She felt herself blush as he led her from the ballroom.
“Is it safe for you to be here?” she asked, as they moved to the balcony that overlooked the gardens.
“They are no threat to me,” he said, slipping his arm around her waist.
“But there’s three of them.”
“They will not attack me here, in your father’s house.”
“But when you leave…”
“They will not see me go.” He glanced over her head. “Your father is about to make a speech.” Her brother, sister, and mother were gathered around Barrett. A man in a crisp white hat and apron was standing beside an enormous cake. “You should go inside.”
“Will you be here when I get back?”
He nodded. “Go be with your family.”
She hurried through the crowd and took her place beside Veronica.
Stefan tensed as the three hunters came up behind him. He had told Bryony there was no danger. Had he been wrong? The four of them were alone on the balcony. The guests were all inside, focused on Barrett’s speech.
Gathering his power, Stefan turned to face the men. A quick brush of their minds told him they were all seasoned hunters, with a good number of kills to their credit. “Shall we take this elsewhere?” he asked.
“We’re not here for your head,” Charles replied. “Merely to see that you don’t feed on the guests.”
“Perhaps I will feed on you, instead,” he said, with a wry grin.
One of the hunters produced a long, wooden stake from inside his coat. Another flashed a dagger. Charles had a pistol.
Stefan laughed softly. “Put your weapons away, you fools. Go have some cake.”
Charles glared at Stefan as he tucked the pistol back into his pocket. He motioned to the other men. They made a wide berth around Stefan as they returned to the ballroom.
Foolish mortals. He could have killed them all with a single glance.
But spending the evening at the Barrett estate had been worth it, he mused, as he kissed Bryony at the end of the evening.
He could put up with her father and hunters and a crowd of people if it meant being with her, holding her in his arms, seeing the love shining brightly in her eyes.
Being near her was worth any price he had to pay.
Bryony slipped under the covers, her fingertips pressed to her lips as she re-lived Stefan’s kisses.
She loved being in his arms, seeing the love in his beautiful dark eyes, hearing the husky timbre of his voice when he told her he adored her.
Just looking at him made her toes curl and her heart skip a beat.
Sometimes it was so easy to forget he was a vampire.
But not tonight. There had been hunters at her mother’s birthday celebration.
Even worse, she had learned that her father had once been a vampire hunter!
She still couldn’t believe it. She knew him to be a tough businessman, a strict but loving father, a man of his word.
A God-fearing man with high moral standards.
How could such a man go around killing people?
Of course, vampires weren’t like other people.
But still, killing was killing. Did Eli know?
She turned onto her side. Two of the paintings she had done of Stefan hung on the wall next to her bed, the one so handsome, the other rather frightening. And yet, she liked the vampire one the best.
Turning onto her other side, she stared out the open window. Where was Stefan now? Stalking the night? Resting in his lair in the Stone House?
Where were the hunters? Had her father hired them to kill Stefan? Was that why the men had been at the party tonight? Stefan had said they were no threat to him. She knew he was strong and powerful, but she worried just the same.
She was about to turn away from the window when a pale grey mist floated into the room. She blinked once and Stefan stood there. He had shed his coat and vest and looked even more devastating than he had earlier, the crisp white shirt and wine-red cravat the perfect foil for his dark good looks.
“Should I go?” he asked.
For answer, she held out her arms.
He went to her gladly. Gathering her close, he rained kisses over her face, her neck, the hollow of her throat.
Bryony closed her eyes. Her father would be livid if he knew Stefan was in her bedchamber, but she didn’t care.
If Stefan kissed her all night, it wouldn’t be enough.
He whispered to her in a language she had never heard before, but she had no trouble understanding what he was saying. He wanted her.
Stefan groaned deep in his throat as Bryony clung to him, her breasts crushed against his chest, her hands moving restlessly over his back and shoulders.
Did she know what she was doing to him? His body was rock-hard with wanting her.
His hunger clawed at his vitals, aroused by the tantalizing scent of her blood.
He pushed her down on the mattress, his body covering hers, as he kissed her again and again. “Bryony.” Her name was a groan on his lips. “Tell me to stop before it is too late.”
Stop? Was he mad? Every fiber of her being was on fire for him.
She let out a cry of denial when, abruptly, he rose from the bed and vanished through the window. Puzzled, she stared after him. Why had he left? And then she heard her father’s footsteps outside the door, his whispered voice as he called her name.
“Bryony?”
She lay there, still as a statue, her heart racing like a tiger’s caught in a trap. Had he heard them?
He called her name a second time and then she heard his footsteps moving away, receding down the corridor.
Relief washed her like a flood, leaving her feeling limp and exhausted.
Turning onto her side, she took a deep breath. And smiled. Because Stefan’s scent lingered in the bedclothes. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend he was still there, beside her.