Free Savannah Past Midnight by Christine Edwards

oversized azure-colored Manila-silk shawl
sways in a nearly hypnotic motion as she sashays up the sidewalk of
Calle Cuna. When she’s twenty feet away, he smoothly takes two
steps forward, revealing himself to her. She halts before him, and
it’s instantly clear that the gorgeous woman is attracted to him.
What female wouldn’t be? At well over six feet in height with
shoulder-length corn silk-colored hair he’s definitely exceptional,
especially amongst all the dark-haired, dark-eyed people here.
    We listen closely as he controls the situation,
speaking softly yet flirtatiously. Within minutes she offers to
take him back to her room at a nearby hotel, assuming he can meet
her fee, that is. He hands her the money up front and tells her
quietly, seductively, that he’s thirsty and would like her to
accompany him on a walk to a nearby late-night tavern before
heading to the hotel. With money in hand, she readily agrees,
obviously proud to be seen on the arm of such a distinguished and
handsome gentleman. It’s always fascinating to me how his angelic
beauty and carefree smile is interpreted as harmless. I have come
to learn over the past few months that it couldn’t be farther from
the truth. He can be as deadly as a Bengal tiger when he chooses.
We all can.
    “He won’t kill her, will he?”
    “No. He will most likely have sex with her before,
during, and after he drinks from her, but Ambrose is controlled and
respectful. He will spare her life.”
    “She is very beautiful.”
    “The finest prostitutes always are. They rely solely
on their looks to survive. The unattractive ones never last
long.”
    “Why is that, Uncle?”
    “Because, my sweet Cosette, life is cruel. You play
the hand you’re dealt, and if you happen to be an ugly prostitute,
then you will inevitably starve to death.”
    His head swings to the right. “Stay here. I detect
another vampire close by. If you choose to feed, use the skills
I’ve shown you.”
    “I will. Please be careful.”
    As the last word slips past my lips, he disappears
into the night air. I admire Ambrose for fulfilling his needs—all
of them. I’ve been aching for a man’s touch recently, nearly as
much as I crave blood. Could I trust myself to have sex and drink
blood at the same time?
    As I contemplate this heady, arousing possibility, I
hear him for the first time. A low, soft hum, beautifully
melodic. I watch from above as the young man with the robust dark
curls rounds the corner, instrument case in his olive-hued
hand.
    He’s mine .
    My landing is silent as I drop down behind him onto
the sidewalk. The night is chilly, with little activity on the
street. He must be on his way home.
    I swiftly catch up to him, and when I’m only three
paces away, he senses someone and whirls around to face me. His
almond-shaped eyes widen. He’s obviously not expecting to see an
attractive blue-eyed woman staring up at him.
    He smiles softly, a dimple prominent on his left
cheek. His accent is lush and fluid as he purrs, “ Hola,
hermosa . ¿Cómo estás? ” Hello, beautiful. How are
you?
    I grin mischievously, “ Me siento sola .” I feel
lonely.
    He begins to speak again, but I place my index finger
against his full lips and make a shhh sound.
    I smile brightly and tip my head toward the arched
alcove of the entryway leading into the palacio . There are
plenty of heavy shadows perfect for what I have in mind for us
tonight.
    He glances both ways, up and down the foggy street,
before being led into the darkness. Even though he can’t see in the
dark, my night vision is keen. His eyes flare with excitement as I
press my body against his, causing him to back up against the
smooth marble wall.
    “Mmm,” he groans as our lips meet.
    His kiss is searing, eager as he lets go of the case
to thread his fingers through my hair. He smells clean, like the
ocean. I can feel the hard length of his sex straining against his
dark slacks as his toned body writhes passionately against