The Ultimate Bite by Crystal Green

Author:Crystal Green [Green, Crystal]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Another Bite, Category
ISBN: 9780373793389
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2007-06-30T23:00:00+00:00

AS KIMBERLY LOWERED her head and hid her face from Stephen, he didn’t force the issue. He could not stand to watch her cry, and he was thankful her sorrow was not in full view.

He could not afford to empathize with it.Still, her naked emotion touched him. He had no idea his bite could mean so much to one of them. It had always been just a means to a meal, a necessity. Yet, it was only now, in the net of her tears, that he realized he had the potential to have wreaked this sort of personal damage on every woman he had seduced into giving blood. In his detached state of being, he had refused to even consider that.

While Kimberly fought her tears, Stephen’s chest felt pried open, his heart exposed and prodded to sharp sensation. He didn’t know how to comfort her, though his instincts screeched at him to try.

He had brought a measure of this upon her, and he was compelled to alleviate it. After all, he had spent years robbing and his crimes had crept into his consciousness over the decades, making him less and less comfortable with his lifestyle, though he didn’t know how else to carry through the years.

But how? How could he bring her comfort short of the bite she coveted?

Earlier, Kimberly’s eyes had gleamed with something like hope when he had mentioned his younger brother, and he knew just how much her sister’s death hurt her—when she had given him permission to enter her mind, that was all he had seen. Thoughts of this Lori drove her, darkened her.

Shouldn’t he attempt to soothe her by commiserating about his own losses?

He dredged up Nathan’s face, but it was muddled by the passage of time. So many faces, decade by decade, century by century. Even those he had loved had faded like portraits veiled by dust and left untended.

Holding her hand, he hesitated one more moment, reluctance getting the better of him. In the corner, a rat stuck its head out of a tunneled hole. Stephen silently commanded it to leave, just as he had done with the rest of the creatures when he had brought Kimberly here to rest.

To rest, he thought. To heal.

“His name was Nathan,” Stephen finally said.

Kimberly froze, as if attempting to decode what language he was speaking. Then she sniffed back her sadness, her grip tightening around his hand. She was so warm, so fragrant and tempting, her tears bringing out a purity not unlike petals washed by rain.

His blood quickened, but he stilled his urges.

“Nathan?” she asked.

“As a human,” he said, “I was born in the early eighteenth century on a manor well outside of London, the first son of servants. My parents expired…” The word seemed wrong, absent of the emotion he had felt as a young man, so he made another attempt. “My parents died in an overturned coach as they traveled to pay respects to an elderly aunt I had never met.”

Pausing, he saw

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