Free Embrace the Night by Amanda Ashley Page B

longing it brought tears to her eyes.
    They danced together as if they had done so a thousand times before. The sound of his voice wrapped around her, adding to the magic of the night. She looked into his eyes and saw a tiny flame that grew and grew until she felt the heat of it envelop her.
    And then he was kissing her, his lips warm, gentle, hungry. The heat of his hands seared her skin. The beat of his heart thundered in her ears. And she was drowning in sensation, smothering in a blanket of desire.
    She kissed him back, shivering with delight, with fear. His tongue stroked her lower lip, and fingers of flame exploded within her. She pressed against him, yearning to be closer. His chest was hard and solid. She felt his arms tighten around her waist. His breath was warm against her face, labored, rasping.
    "Gabriel…" Her voice sounded heavy, drugged.
    "
Cara
…"
    It took every ounce of willpower he possessed to put her away from him. The scent of her, the softness of her, stirred his desire, not only for her sweet body, but for the vital essence of her life. The hunger raged through him, urging him to take her, here, now, to satisfy the awful thirst only her blood could quench.
    He heard her gasp and knew that the blood hunger was visible in his eyes.
    With an oath, he turned away. He stared into the fire, and the flames exploded upward with a mighty roar.
    "Gabriel!"
    "Go to bed, Sara Jayne."
    But…
    "Go to bed, Sara!"
    She didn't argue this time. Jumping into the bed, she pulled the covers up to her chin, her gaze focused on Gabriel's back. He was breathing heavily, his hands clenched at his sides.
    "Good night, Sara," he said, his voice gruff.
    "Good night."
    He took a deep breath, and then, without looking back, he left the room.
    She stared after him, confused by what had happened, by the unholy light that had burned in the depths of his eyes. But surely she had imagined that. A trick of the flames, perhaps. Yes, that was it.
    With a sigh, she snuggled deeper into the covers, then wiggled her toes.
    She could walk! Tomorrow she would explore the abbey. She would go outside and run barefoot through the grass. She would write the good sisters and tell them she was well, that she was more than well!
    And tomorrow night, she would dance in the light of the moon. With Gabriel.
    Murmuring a heartfelt prayer of gratitude for the miracle that had been bestowed upon her, she gazed at the thick black cloth that covered the window, wondering absently why Gabriel had put it there. Perhaps she would ask him tomorrow…
     
    She dreamed of blood and death, of the darkness of eternal damnation, of the loneliness of hell.
    She dreamed of demons with blood-red eyes and teeth as sharp as daggers.
    And woven into the tapestry of her dreams, like a fine gold thread, she saw Gabriel, heard him singing to her, his eyes sad, filled with a haunting loneliness she couldn't comprehend.
    Gabriel… she saw him lying in a dark place, surrounded by death…
    With a cry, she sat up, the covers clutched to her breast. For a moment, she was tempted to get out of bed and search for Gabriel, but the thought of wandering through the dark abbey, alone, in the dead of night, was more frightening than the nightmare that had awakened her.
    Murmuring a fervent prayer, she slid under the covers and closed her eyes.
    There were no more bad dreams.
     
    Cloaked in the shadows of a quiet street far from the abbey, Gabriel felt Sara's restlessness. Though he had not taken her blood, there was a bond between them, an unbreakable link that had been forged when the first drop of his blood had passed her lips.
    There were some who believed that to taste the blood of a vampire was to condemn oneself to the same life of darkness, but he knew it was not true. In ancient times, people had believed there were other ways to become a vampire—dying in a state of sin, dying after being cursed by one's parents. Some thought death by drowning, or committing suicide, might