Page 2 of Stolen By the Vampire

Why was she covered in blankets? That was the real question.

“You’re in my mountain,” the vampire replied.

For a moment, she was surprised he’d bothered to reply, but she hid it, eyeing him. His voice was lightly accented in a way that was all too intriguing to a girl who had never ventured more than a day’s journey from her village.

“Yours?” she asked.

“Mine,” he confirmed.

The monster of the Condemned Cliffs is a vampire.

A monster she hadn’t been sure she could face. A vampire—well, she might still be in real trouble. But a vampire could bleed, if you had the right tools. As Esmae did. She forced herself to keep her gaze trained on the vampire while she cobbled together a plan through her pounding headache.

“Why?” she asked.

The vampire drew a step closer. “Why what?”

“Why did you save me?”

A long moment passed between them. Then— “Because it pleased me.”

Probably because if she bled out on the mountain, he couldn’t drink all her blood. She fought to keep her expression guileless. The vampire didn’t seem to regard her as a threat at the moment. His posture was relaxed, even as he seemed to take up most of the small cavern. Because she was an injured female? Or because she was mortal, nothing more than a plaything for the immortal creature?

She wished her magic was more useful. A wish she’d had a hundred times throughout her life. But no, she couldn’t count on her magic to save her. She rubbed fingertips to her temple again, then swung her legs out to stand. The vampire was three paces away. Her legs were water filled, so she didn’t fight the stumble that occurred, even if she’d meant for it to be more of an act.

The vampire, who had been leaning against the wall so casually, lunged. His hands gripped her arms to catch her before she fell.

Esmae struck.

The copper blade was old and flimsy, but it was sharp. It was a weaver’s hands that held it, nimble and quick as she drew it right above his heart and plunged the blade in.

There.

Let the beast bleed and set her free of her curse.

Chapter Two

Silas knew two things were true about the female in front of him.

One: she had just tried to kill him, a feat no other had been brave—or foolish—enough to try in at least three centuries.

Two: he was never, ever going to let her go.

Disarming her was a simple matter. His hand snapped to the wrist that held the blade. He wrenched it from his chest with ease. The vampire was bigger and stronger than her, even if she was tall for a female. Her fragile blade fell to the cave floor with a clattering sound that punctuated the air around them.

Her gaze flickered over him, running from his face to his hands, which pinned hers against the stone behind them, to his chest and back to his eyes.

It was an effort not to smirk.

Blood pearled at the open slice above his heart. The stinging sensation was unfamiliar—the fact she’d been able to wound him at all told him this wasn’t just any female.

No, she was something special.

But even the novelty of pain couldn’t distract him from his focus on her.

Her eyes were a vibrant color not found in the gray walls he inhabited. Her hair looked soft and silky, two words that couldn’t describe any of his surroundings. The warm, earthy brown was streaked with magically turned red highlights. He wanted to feel the strands beneath his fingers, to grasp it and pull her head back so he could see her throat.

Unused to denying himself, he did just that, threading his fingers on one hand while the other hand held her against the wall.

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