Free A Whisper Of Eternity by Amanda Ashley

silk, and her lips . . . ah, her lips were like wild, sweet honey. She had fascinated him from the moment they met, captivating him, enchanting him, until he was hopelessly caught in the web of her supernatural power, and happy to have it so. When she promised him a way to stay forever young, forever at her side, he had agreed without a second thought. The loss of the sun had seemed a small price to pay for eternity in her arms.
    The transformation had been nothing like he expected. When he had seen her in her true form, her eyes red with hunger, her fangs like white ice, he had tried to run, but he was no match for her preternatural speed and she had caught him easily. She had held him in her arms, her eyes glowing like hellfire as she bent over his neck. He had struggled in her embrace, but she had held him effortlessly, his strength like that of a newborn babe compared to her supernatural power.
    Surprisingly, there had been no pain as she sank her fangs into his throat, only warm, sensual pleasure. When she drew back, he had whimpered like a child taken from its mother’s breast and begged her not to stop. Instead, she had opened a gash in her own wrist and pressed it to his lips.
    You must drink now .
    Mesmerized by her gaze, he had opened his mouth and swallowed the thick, red fluid, felt it burn a path down his throat, felt it spread through his body like liquid fire. He had grasped her wrist and sucked greedily, hissed at her when she tore her arm free.
    He remembered little else of that night. She had carried him to her lair, let him spend the day in death-like sleep at her side.
    When next he opened his eyes, the land lay shrouded in darkness and he was a full-fledged vampire.

Chapter 7
    Tracy woke slowly, the memory of last night’s dream still vivid in her mind. She had been a slave in a grand house in ancient Rome. Her master had been a senator, his wife a stern woman with no compassion for those beneath her. It had seemed so real, not like a dream at all. She had felt the cold tiles beneath her feet, smelled the scents of food and wine at the marketplace, felt the sting of the whip on her flesh. Her name had been Nysa back then.
    She whispered the name aloud, shivering because it sounded so familiar on her tongue. She had dreamed of the days Nysa had spent avoiding the wrath of her mistress, the nights when she had used her wiles to avoid the advances of her master. In many ways, it had been a good life. Unlike the poor citizens of Rome, she’d had a roof over her head, enough food to eat, a soft bed to sleep in. Still, it was hard to be grateful when she had no life of her own, when her every moment was spent in servitude to a cruel mistress.
    She had been in her early twenties when her master decided to breed her to one of the other house slaves.
    Tracy shuddered with the memory. When she refused to cooperate, she had been beaten by her mistress. She had run away that night.
    It had been a man who looked very much like Dominic who had found her cowering in the ruins of an old burned-out barn. Could it have been Dominic? His name had been the same. He had taken her to his home and given her shelter. Her new owner had kept strange hours, never rising until after sunset, always disappearing before the dawn. He made no demands on her save that she be in the house when he arrived. He provided her with the best food the city had to offer, though she never saw him eat. He clothed her in silks and fine linen, treated her as the mistress of his house rather than a runaway slave. And when he took her in his arms, she offered no resistance.
    Days became weeks, weeks became months, the months became a year. And in that year, she convinced herself that there was nothing odd about him, that he simply preferred to sleep during the day and pursue his life in the evening.
    It was during that year that she fell madly, desperately, in love with him.
    It was during that year that she discovered what he was....
    Feeling a