Free Midnight Embrace by Amanda Ashley

silent as a dark shadow. A wave of his hand opened the thick stone doorway that was invisible from the other side. It was the only entrance to the lair below.
    She whirled around at the faint whisper of stone sliding against stone. "Who's there?"
    He saw her clearly though there was no light at all in the room; her face was pale, her eyes wide and scared. The pulse in her throat beat wildly as she peered into the darkness. Raindrops clung to her hair and skin.
    He moved silently across the cold stone floor until he stood directly behind her. For a moment, he basked in the glorious heat radiating from her body, letting her warmth banish the cold that was so much a part of him, a cold that emanated from deep within his being. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, his fangs lengthening in response to the scent of her blood, the promise of relief.
    "Who's there?"
    He heard the quiver in her voice, the terror she couldn't hide.
    "Do not be afraid, Analisa."
    He heard the catch in her breath as she recognized his voice. "Lord Alesandro, is that you?"
    "Yes."
    "What are you doing here?" she asked, relief evident in her tone. "What is this place?"
    "What are you doing here?"
    "I was out walking and I got caught in the rain," she said. "I can't see you. Can we light a lamp?"
    "There are no lamps here."
    "Oh."
    Unable to help himself, he placed his hand on her shoulder.
    She flinched at his touch. "You're very cold, my lord."
    Cold didn't begin to describe it, he thought, releasing her. He ran his tongue over his fangs. Relief was near, so very, very near. Relief from the cold that engulfed him, the seething hunger that clawed at every fiber of his being, relentless, insatiable. A four-hundred-year-old thirst that could be appeased but never quenched.
    He groaned low in his throat, a primal, animal-like growl that made her shiver.
    "Are you ill, my lord?" she asked tremulously.
    "Yes." He ground the word out between clenched teeth.
    She turned toward the sound of his voice. "Is there anything I can do?"
    Would she willingly offer him what he craved, what he so desperately needed? In four hundred years, no one had done so. Dared he hope? Dared he ask? Pain twisted inside him like a hellish flame that threatened to burn away what was left of his self-control, urging him to take her, to drink and drink until the pain was gone.
    "My lord?"
    "I need…"
    "My lord… Alesandro, are you in distress?"
    The fingers of his right hand curled over her shoulder. "Yes."
    "Let me help you."
    "Analisa…" He took a deep breath, his left hand curling into a tight fist as he fought to control the beast that raged within him. "Analisa, go! Now!"
    "Only tell me what to do, my lord, and…"
    She gasped, the words dying in a throat gone dry. He turned his head away, but it was too late. In the blackness that surrounded them, she had glimpsed the hunger that burned like twin flames in his eyes. He could hear her heart hammering in her breast as she backed away from him, only to be brought up short by his hand, still clutching her shoulder.
    "Don't," she whispered. "No. Oh, no… please… don't…"
    But it was too late to let her go. The pain of his wounds, his excruciating need for nourishment, her nearness, even her fear, beckoned to him, refusing to be denied.
    With a low growl, he drew her up against him. Her body was hot against the chill of his own. His hand brushed her hair away from her neck, his tongue skimmed over the smooth skin beneath her ear, tasting rain, and then his fangs pierced her flesh and he drank… Ah, the sweetness, the purity. He closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of her life's force flow through him, strengthening him, easing his pain. And mingled with the relief was disgust for what he was, for what he was doing.
    Her thoughts drifted into his mind, borne to him on a flood of hot, sweet crimson. Sheer terror thrummed through her every vein, fear of what she had seen, fear of what he was doing. The fear of the unknown. Of