Free Amanda Ashley by After Sundown Page B

small round table.
    She sat down, her stomach growling as he uncovered the tray to reveal a bowl of vegetable soup. There was a thick steak, rare, and mashed potatoes, beets, a slice of corn bread dripping with butter and honey. And a large piece of apple pie for dessert.
    “I did not know if you preferred coffee or milk,” he said, “so I ordered both.”
    Kelly nodded. “Thank you. Aren’t you going to eat?” She felt a chill slide down her spine as his gaze moved to her throat.
    “Perhaps later,” he said with an ambiguous smile.
    She felt uncomfortable eating while he watched. He hovered over her, reminding her of a vulture. The steak was very rare, thick, and juicy. He licked his lips as she cut into it.
    She turned her attention to the meal, always aware of the man standing nearby.
    Ramsey took a deep breath. Needing a distraction, he went into the living room and turned on the television. Sitting in the easy chair, he flipped through the channels, pausing when he heard the name Dracul. A female reporter stood outside the gates of a mansion, informing the public that Prince Dracul, well-known rock star, had disappeared.
    He frowned. Dracul was a young vampire masquerading as a human. Had someone discovered the singer’s true identity and destroyed him? Was there another accomplished vampire hunter in the area? Or was it merely some sort of ploy to gain media attention?
    Thoughts of Dracul faded, overshadowed by the enticing scent of the girl in the next room. Her heartbeat echoed in his ears, he felt his own heart begin to beat in rhythm with hers, felt his fangs lengthen as the hunger stirred to life within him.
    He had just fed; he had no need to do so again. And yet he rose to his feet, unable to resist the siren call of her blood. Khira’s facetious remark about having room for dessert crossed his mind.
    The girl looked up at him, fear reflected in her eyes. “No! No, don’t.”
    But he was past hearing, past caring about anything but the need roaring through him. The pain . . .
    She ran for the door, but he caught her easily. He gathered her into his arms, his mind seeking to calm hers. She fought him, her nails raking his cheek, until he bent her will to his.
    When she lay pliant in his embrace, reason asserted itself above blood hunger. The woman had just eaten; there had been no time for her metabolism to have converted the food to life-giving strength. She was still weak. He had vowed just this night to exercise restraint . . . and failed. Had witnessed the extinction of yet another human life, had shared in its extinction.
    Khira had said if he wanted to keep his “little human” alive he needed to treat her well, feed her well, ensure she was strong enough for his purpose. It was time for him to prove he was strong enough to do so. No more killing. It was time to make good on his vow.
    Gently he carried her to her bed and tucked her in.
     
     
    He stalked the dark streets, his mind filled with the memory of the horror in the girl’s eyes as he had bent over her. He had seen enough bloodthirsty vampires to know how he must have looked to her, his skin taut, as pale as old parchment, his eyes glowing hellishly red and hungry. She had screamed when she saw his fangs, struggled against him until he took control of her thoughts.
    He lifted a hand to his face. She had raked her nails across his cheek hard enough, deep enough, to draw blood, yet the scratches were already healed.
    He had no need to hunt, but he prowled the night restlessly. He wasn’t surprised when he found himself standing in front of Chiavari’s house. Taking a deep breath, he climbed the steps, knocked on the door.
    “Edward.” Marisa smiled, surprised to see him.
    “Is Chiavari home?”
    “No, but he’ll be back in a few minutes.”
    “Do you mind if I wait?”
    “Of course not.” She stepped back. “Come in. I was just fixing myself something to eat.”
    He followed her into the kitchen. It was a large room, painted a