that shone through his eyes, captivating all who ever met him and those who grew to know him well. Andorra had introduced them a few short years after Carlos had been changed.
Carlos could still remember that night when she had brought the tall, darkly blond Navarran before him.
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“Carlos,” she had said in that sultry voice that had captured a hundred men’s hearts when she was a mortal woman, “I would like you to meet Miguel Ramirez. Miguel, this is my cousin, Carlos Galeano.” She had left them almost immediately, drifting across the room, a vision of elegance and beauty in a crystal-beaded, silk gown of deepest burgundy.
Miguel had smiled into Carlos’ eyes, and Carlos was lost in that smile, the attraction he felt for the other man bringing him the start of an arousal that made his pale skin flush slightly with discomfort .
“Your cousin is a most beautiful woman,” Miguel said, touching Carlos’ arm, indicating that they should walk outside into the cool night air.
“Yes, she is.”
“And it seems to be a family trait,” he continued, his eyes sweeping over Carlos’ face and body.
Carlos laughed lightly. “Thank you, but few can compare to the Lady Andorra.”
“Few women, perhaps…” Miguel’s eyes, a radiant blue, locked on Carlos as he spoke, his voice low and husky and incredibly beguiling.
Carlos did not miss the invitation in those eyes, nor did he refuse it. With one swift movement, he drew Miguel into his arms, holding him in a tight embrace, their lips meeting in a bruising and passionate kiss. As their tongues meshed and caressed, Carlos probed the razor-like sharpness of Miguel’s fangs. His blood spilled onto Miguel’s tongue from the self-inflicted cut, and the rich taste of it inflamed the senses of both men.
Miguel’s arms tightened about Carlos. “Come away with me,” he urged. “Come to my house, and let me love you until the dawn’s light.”
Carlos sighed as those memories of their first night together came back to haunt him, again. One hundred years had passed since Miguel’s death, a short span of time in a vampire’s existence, and through all that time, he had never forgotten him, nor found someone to love as he had loved Miguel. Sometimes, he could understand Andorra’s impatience, even if her voicing it irritated him.
Perhaps she was right. He had been alone too long. Perhaps it was time to explore new possibilities. Around the edges of the thick window shutters, Carlos saw the faint traces of approaching dawn. He stripped off his clothes and slipped between the cool sheets. When he closed his eyes, a vision of Christopher’s sweet face swam before him, and he smiled. Not in as long as he could remember had he ever sought to retain the memory of those with whom BOUND IN BLOOD
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he’d had sex. They remembered only what he allowed of the encounter, and he would so quickly and easily forget them—but not this time, not Christopher. For in Carlos’ mind, what he and Christopher had shared, had not been mere sex, it had been much, much more and had touched his soul.
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Chapter Four
Chris sat staring at his computer screen, trying to concentrate on the words and figures before his eyes. He had an exam at the end of the week, and the online crash course he’d signed up for wasn’t doing it for him. For three days and nights, he had thought of nothing and no one but Carlos, the fantastic man who had saved him from a vicious beating, who had made love to him like only some fantasy lover could—and who had then vanished without a trace. Chris had fallen asleep in shelter of the man’s arms and when he’d awoken, Carlos had been gone. He’d looked for him in the club, hoping that he would see that tall, familiar figure standing at the bar, his dark mysterious eyes searching the crowd, searching for no one but—
“Me!” Chris blurted, pushing his chair away