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fingers ceased coaxing and commanded her surrender, and even as she did, tumbling so suddenly into a climax that she had nothing left to be frightened with, Vaelen’s face changed. He leaned into her neck as if to bite her, then recoiled in horror.
    She thought it was over then, when he pushed her from him, but it was not. He bent her over the chair, his arms around her waist, and plunged into her, hard into her, so that her climax took on a deeper and darker force, his shaft claiming her, branding her with such force that she had to steady herself by holding onto the arms of the chair. She thought he could go no higher, that she could fall no further, that it must surely be over for both of them. Except that every time he withdrew, his next thrust claimed more of her and more, until she felt the hot rush of him coming into her. She was lost, spent and doomed. She thought she would die of the pleasure and wished that she would.
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    His withdrawal was not gentle. One moment there was a warm presence, the next an icy absence. Shaking, Imogen righted herself, and already Vaelen had pulled on his shirt and pantaloons. Unthinking, she put a hand to her neck, feeling the tenderness there, where he had bit her. She was bruised, but he had not broken the skin. She risked a glance, and flinched at his harsh countenance, the set of his mouth.
    â€œDon’t worry, I did not do it, but I need not tell you it was a close-run thing. You see, I cannot stop myself.”
    Imogen pulled her nightgown over her head. She picked her wrapper up from the floor and fumbled with the sash. Her fingers didn’t seem to be working properly. She was cold. “But you did stop yourself, Vaelen,” she whispered.
    â€œThis time.”
    She gave up trying to tie her sash, and slumped down on a chaise-longue, avoiding the chair. “There’s something I need to know.”
    He shook his head, leaning against the fireplace, seemingly oblivious of the heat the embers gave out, crossing his arms over his chest. His hair was rumpled. His mouth was swollen with their kisses. On his cheek there was a tiny scratch which had not bled. He took her breath away. Longing gusted through her.
    â€œYou want to know about the others,” he said bleakly. “There have been many across the years. It is how I live, how I survive. But never have I taken from an unwilling woman, and never have I taken more than required to satisfy my needs. I have never killed. You must know that. Save once.”
    Imogen caught her breath. “Once?”
    â€œLong ago. Her name was Lucilla. There is a legend among my kind that the lifeblood of a true love has a special magic, the power to grant mortality to us while guaranteeing that no harm befalls the giver. But it only works if the love is pure and true. She said she loved me. I thought I loved her too. I was young then, and relatively innocent, and I was wrong. She died. The legend is just that, a myth. I pledged then that she would be the only one. I have kept my pledge and lived a solitary life ever since.”
    â€œA solitary life is what you are condemning me to,” Imogen said, clasping her hands tightly together in her lap and digging her toes into the carpet in an effort to control the violent trembling which shook her.
    â€œAt least you will be alive, Imogen.”
    â€œI won’t. I didn’t have a life before I met you. How can I live after you? I love you.” The words were wrenched from her. She made no attempt to hide the tears which followed them, but nor did she throw herself at him as she wanted to do. Only, she could not go without him knowing.
    Vaelen gripped the marble lintel of the fireplace. “Imogen, don’t make this any harder.”
    She blinked at him, her eyes were drowned in tears which sparkled on her lashes and glittered on her cheeks, but the love she had declared glowed from her like a live thing. The heat of it crept towards him, warming his