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An Excerpt From: CALL OF TEMPTATION
Copyright © MICHELLE M. PILLOW, 2008
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing,
Inc.
“No,” James shook his head, trying to will what was
happening to stop. “Die, just die. Don’t fight death. The pain that awaits
you will only last. Welcome the peace that comes. Don’t fight to live.”
The woman screamed again and he knew she wasn’t
listening. Her body did what bodies instinctively did—it fought to survive.
Only this was most likely to be a losing battle. James swore under his
breath, glancing out at the ocean to where Meghan’s boat had disappeared.
He couldn’t steal a boat and give chase, not now, not when there was a
changing human he needed to take care of. There were no others on the
island to leave her with.
Almost calculatingly, he again looked at the woman
writhing in agony. Yet, if by some miracle she lived, she might be the key
to stopping Meghan. Her tie to the treacherous bitch would be strong.
Turned ones always sought those who killed them. It was a strange irony
that they’d be drawn to the makers of their mortal deaths.
Having had more training with turned humans over the
centuries than he’d like to admit, James cleared his throat and reached for
the woman’s face. His fingers tangled in her soft hair before finding her
sand-covered cheek. Emotions whirled inside him as he looked at the woman,
compassion and pity, curiosity and a sense of duty and honor. Brushing the
locks from her features, he revealed a pretty, little mouth and big,
scared, dark eyes.
James took a deep breath, the words of comfort he
planned on uttering leaving him completely as he stared. Her lips opened
wide and she gasped for breath, but she no longer screamed. Ocean waves
crashed near them, pulling and pushing his soul with each surging of the
tide.
“You,” she whispered, almost accusatorily. “My ancestors
whispered to me in my dreams that I would find you.” She closed her eyes
tight and the strange spell between them dissipated as she again began to
yell in pain. Her words made no sense and he knew the loss of blood had
made her delirious.
“Easy, young one, I will care for you. Let the pain lead
you into darkness. Once you pass out, it will be easier to bear.” James
lifted her into his arms, scanning the beach to see if anyone was near. If
she kept screaming, she’d draw attention and the last thing he wanted was
some do-gooder coming to her rescue. Careful not to suffocate her, he
smothered her face into his chest, letting the vibrations of her torment
muffle against him. Her light body barely slowed down his steps as he
jogged with her across the shore, back toward the small inn where he’d
procured a suite earlier.
When he saw a group of people walking and laughing along
the shoreline, a strained smile came to his lips and he gripped the woman
in his arms tighter to silence her cries. He veered away from the group,
hoping the meager distance would afford him safe passage. Their attention
turned briefly to them and he smiled, trying to force all the charm and
ease his tight, stressed body could manage. One of the men, a yuppie in
white slacks and a blue polo shirt, waved.
“I see someone has had too much to drink,” a woman
exclaimed merrily. The others laughed, resuming their conversation. The
woman in his arms pushed hard against him and managed to free her head. She
opened her mouth, ready to yell. James crushed his lips down on hers,
taking her would-be scream into his mouth. The woman jolted, her mouth
jerking against him, more from the writhing in her body than any measured
response. Still, the kiss startled him with the intense lust it conjured.
James gripped her tighter, pried his mouth away before he delved his tongue
again into the warm depths. He sighed in mild relief when he made it past
the group of humans. He pressed her face to his chest once more.
By small degrees, the woman’s cries lessened, as did her
struggling. His rented quarters were right off the beach, reached by a
small, worn trail in the surrounding narrow strip of tall grasses. The
company had called it a suite but it was really more like a private
building isolated from other guests. It was the only lodging available on
the island due to tourist season and he was suddenly glad that luck had
afforded him privacy and two bedrooms—not that they would be staying there
long.
As he carried the woman up the narrow, wooden stairs to
the deck, the sound of faraway music from a dockside restaurant penetrated
his thoughts. In any other situation, carrying a woman to his ocean-side
bedroom, surrounded by soft music and moonlight, would have been highly
romantic. Finally reaching the sliding glass door, he set the woman’s feet
on the ground. Her head lulled back and she whimpered.
Pulling the key from his pocket, he unlocked the door
and once more picked her up to carry her inside. A queen-size bed,
television and small chair were the only amenities in the bedroom besides
the faux-oak dressers. Laying her gingerly on the bed, he moved to shut the
door in case she began screaming again. Moonlight streamed through the room
and he quickly pulled the curtains shut, blocking it out. The darkness
didn’t bother him as he navigated the room with ease. Walking to the large
bathroom adjoining his room, he flipped on the light. A soft glow
illuminated the bed, as if framing her for his perusal.
With time to study her, he strode slowly across the
floor, watching his shadow move over her body. Putting one knee on the bed,
he leaned over her, telling himself he was just checking her vitals. But
instead of her heartbeat, he listened to her raspy, almost
passionate-sounding breath. Instead of gauging her temperature, his fingers
caressed her soft skin, brushing granules of sand from her cheek and jaw.
He pushed back her hair, revealing the bite mark on her neck. About a
half-dozen puncture marks indented her flesh, attesting to Meghan’s bites.
The smell of blood wafted up to him, her blood.
A moan filtered past his lips as he instinctively leaned
closer. Drawing his tongue along her throat, he licked, stroking long and
slow over her flesh. A thready pulse caught up in his ears as the taste of
her essence filled him. The memory of the forced kiss on the beach made his
lips tingle. Unable to help himself, he did it again, moving his mouth to
her still one. It had been decades since he’d tasted human blood and the
salty tang was just as sweet and pleasurable as he remembered. His lips
slid back to her throat, tasting her. The beast inside him howled in
ecstasy until James too gave a light howl of approval. His lust hit him
hard.
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