Free Amanda Ashley by After Sundown

to the natural heat and beauty of the sun. So many things he had once taken for granted: a brisk morning walk, a cup of strong black coffee, the sound of birds singing. Chiavari had stolen them from him just as he had stolen his life, and in return, the vampire had given him an eternity of darkness, inside and out.
    He paused at the corner, perusing the front page of a newspaper in one of the vending machines while he waited for the light to change. The headline hit him like a blow to the gut.
    They had found the woman he had preyed upon late last night. The fact that her body had been almost drained of blood was related in lurid detail. It was the kind of story that would have fired his instinct to track down and destroy the monster whose pathetic leavings now resided in the city morgue.
    Only this time he was the monster.
    He swore softly, his guilt rising up to haunt him. He had not meant for her to die, had not meant to take so much, but she had been so sweet, so sweet. Perhaps, if he had taken her to her home and warmed her, offered her something to drink, she would have lived. But the flashing lights of a passing police car had filled him with a sudden panic and he had fled into the shadows. Left alone in the cold, the woman had died. With grim determination, he read the details of her family and life. A life cut all too short. He had not intended to kill her, but she was dead just the same. No matter how long he survived, he would never forget the look of fear in her eyes, the sudden silence when her heart beat its last. No more. He would not kill again. No matter what the cost, no matter if his accursed hunger went unfed and he endured the pains of hell, he would not kill again. He thought of Kelly. Perhaps he could atone for his sin by seeing that she was returned to vigorous health.
    He laughed softly, bitterly, at his rationalization. The hunter had become that which he had once hunted. He had never hesitated to destroy the creatures of the night when he found them. Why had he not destroyed himself? He was no better than those he had hunted. What made him think he deserved to live? Sadly he admitted that he lacked the courage to take his own life. He was ashamed to ask Chiavari for help. But what about Khira?
    He dismissed the idea as soon as it formed. She intrigued him even as she filled him with a growing sense of unease. She was an ancient vampire, her powers without compare. Would he become like Khira in time? Indifferent to mortals, incapable of caring whether they lived or died? Once, he would have viewed Khira as the ultimate trophy for the last of the Ramseys—a difficult quarry to be hunted down, staked, beheaded. He would have been as indifferent to her fears as she was to the hapless mortals she hunted. Was he already changing? Would his rationalizations become fewer with each victim until he saw them as nothing more than a ready source of food? Them. In his mind, he had already separated himself from mankind. He was no longer a part of their world, no longer human.
    “Edward.”
    He swore as Khira materialized beside him. “Damn it,” he exclaimed irritably, “don’t do that.”
    “Aren’t you happy to see me?” she asked, pouting prettily.
    “Yes, of course. What are you doing here?”
    She smiled up at him, her eyes glowing like sapphires. She was outrageously beautiful. The moonlight shimmered in her hair like liquid silver. Her hand was warm on his arm, her skin flushed, her cheeks almost rosy. She had fed recently, he mused, and fed well.
    “I felt your thoughts,” she said, her voice low and sultry.
    “Did you?”
    “Indeed.” She tilted her head to one side, her gaze fixed on his. “You’ve not yet fed.”
    An image of the woman lying in his bed at home flashed through his mind. “No.”
    Her predatory grin revealed perfect white teeth. “Let us go, then.” She slipped her arm through his. “I find I still have room for dessert.”
    Ramsey grunted softly. She had already fed,