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her objections. She was overwhelmed by the erotic feel of his lips on her neck and the masculine, musky fragrance filling her nostrils. She knew she was in danger, but lust overtook her senses as his hand began to roam over her nightgown, touching lightly at first, then firmly as it moved up her hip. The other was caressing strands of her hair as his mouth moved over the length of her neck, until it found its way to her mouth. When he claimed her lips, fear escaped bit by bit, and passion took hold. She wanted to push him away, really, but instead found herself now clutching his shoulder in one hand and his bicep in the other pulling him into herself. God, what is wrong with me ? She scolded herself, but her body didn't listen. His firm tongue thrust in and out of her demanding mouth, teasing, taunting, and causing her body to wriggle. She matched his moves by sucking on his tongue gently, which brought out a low growl from him.
    She couldn't help but notice how sharp his teeth felt when she grazed one with her tongue.
    She felt his hand slide from her hip up to cup her breast, kneading the tissue and tormenting her puckered bud. He was expertly working her up into a heated frenzy, again. Again? She hesitated and looked at him in the moonlight, barely peeking through her window. Large, sexy, musky—yes—it was him, again, which meant she must be dreaming. There was no other explanation for him to show up here. Feeling like she could really let go now, she claimed his lips this time and pushed his hand off her breast in a path further down her body.
    Devin knew he had her under his spell, and he let her guide his fingers to her satiny depths. She groaned with desire as he teased her mound with light touches before moving to the opening of her hot sheath. She dug her claws into his chest, urging him to plunder her moistness, but he answered her groans with a fervent whisper against her neck.
    "Not too much tonight, my beauty, just a taste."
    And with that, she felt a piercing sting that made her cry out.
    Devin sipped from the puncture mark, lapping up the sweet—so sweet—taste of her essence. He wondered briefly if he could stop, and it wasn't because he was all that hungry, but rather because she tasted like nothing he'd had in, he tried to remember—but couldn't. There was something so uniquely warm, fulfilling, enticing and almost sinful about her taste, he thought he had died and gone to heaven. Then, as a glow filled his body, there was something recognizable about her wonderful flavor after all. Devin looked into Salena's hazy, lust filled, crystal blue eyes and immediately felt a pang in his chest. Her taste, her features, his obsession—it came back to him on a tidal wave of pain—Abigail. Distressed by the realization, and the only painful memory he possessed, he fled from her arms, her bed, and her home—out into the night.
    The loud, heartrending bay of a mystified wolf didn't even faze Salena as she drifted off into a deep slumber.
    Under the cover of darkness behind Salena's house, Devin's mind was racing trying to figure this out—the connection between her and Abigail, the only woman he'd ever cared about. No, that wasn't strong enough of a description—the only woman who had been able to remind him he had a beating heart once, because he could feel it beat again when he was in her captivating presence. When Abigail had been taken from him, before her love could turn him mortal again, he swore he'd never let himself feel anything for a woman ever again—he was a vampire, not a mortal, for a reason. He wasn't meant to love; being damned to walk the earth for eternity was better than the suffering he felt when Abigail had died. He would just take what he wanted but never give himself again.
    How can this be? What kind of magic is this? He wished he knew what the Gypsy had told her. Is she a ghost? Is she a witch trying to torment him? He needed answers and he needed them today.
    He was still outside her