E X C E R P T

Ivy climbed the broad, winding staircase to her own room with every intention of napping before dinner. She wanted to work on finding the killer with Saint that evening. They had nothing substantial to go on and every moment they failed to uncover a clue was another moment the killer eluded them.

She opened the door to her room and walked in to complete darkness. All the drapes were drawn over her windows, blocking out any trace of the late afternoon sun.

They had been open when she left. But despite this, she closed the door, enclosing the room in almost total blackness.

“Did you enjoy your outing?” Came a low, silky voice from the darkness.

The most delicious shiver ran down Ivy’s spine as she turned toward the sound.

Saint lay on her bed, a shadow against the white pillows and quilt. She didn’t have to see his face to know he was watching her. It wasn’t fair that he could see her so much clearer than she could see him. She would rather like to enjoy the sight of him on her bed.

“Yes,” she replied, tossing her bonnet on the stool of her vanity. “I did.” The vanity hosted a small lamp. She turned it on.

The bed creaked faintly as he rose, slipping through the darkness into the light as he came toward her. It wasn’t until he was mere feet away from her that she could truly see his features.

He did not look pleased.

He drew a deep breath, lifting his face as he did so, like a cat sniffing the air. “You’ve been with Fontaine.” His tone was as dark as the room itself.

“Yes.” Instinctively, crossed her arms over herself, only to uncross them again. “You needn’t worry, I took two of your men with me.”

“He touched you.”

Is that what all this drama was about? “Not that it is any of your business, but he kissed me, yes.”

Any sane woman would fear the strange glow that leapt into his eyes, especially given the lack of light in the room, but Ivy never laid any claim to sanity. Her heart tripped against her ribs at the sight of him, seething with jealousy.

“I cannot stand his stink on you.” The words came out as a growl — hardly human at all.

“I think he smells rather nice. Like applesauce.” She was baiting him, fool that she was.

Saint lunged at her, silent and swift. His fingers slid into her hair, his thumbs pressing on her skull just below her ears — not hard enough to hurt, but with enough pressure so that she couldn’t have pulled away even had she wanted to.

His mouth slanted over hers, hot and gently insistent, not at all the punishing, bruising assault she expected. His lips molded against hers, urging them apart so that he could taste her with his tongue.

Ivy’s hands came up under his arms to grasp his shoulders, clinging to him as she melted inside. This was what a kiss should be between lovers. This was what had been missing when Justin kissed her. It had nothing to do with technique and everything to do with the emotions inspired by the simple act of mating mouths and tongues.

It was this man — this vampire — who made all the difference. She wanted him, and in more ways than she wanted to admit, even to herself. She didn’t understand it, but it was true. She didn’t even know if he would prove himself to be the man she wanted him to be and find the killer. She knew only that her life would be forever changed for having him in it.

He released her as suddenly as he had grabbed her, thrusting himself away as though her lips burned him.

“Now,” he said roughly. “You smell of me.”

Copyright © 2007. Kathryn Smith. All Rights Reserved.