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tempting him with the things he had never known in his long life.
    Women had been attracted to his looks, his power and his money. He had used them for sustenance, but he'd never been able to know what it was like to feel the pleasures a woman could bring his body, the peace she could bring to his mind. One taste. Just one. He could sink his teeth into soft skin and feel the flow of life, hear the quickening rhythm of her heart beating in tune with his. She would fear him, his domination, his complete supremacy over her. Life or death. He had that power.
    His heart slammed hard in his chest. His body stirred to life. He scented prey. A fragrance beckoning to him. Calling out from the beauty of the night. He had only to take that one last taste and he could experience everything before the sun rose and burned him clean. He turned his head and saw her standing in the shadows. The breath left his body in a rush.
    Her skin was pale and flawless. Her hair was pulled back in a long, thick braid. Her eyes were wide, large and sparkling, glowing slightly. She seemed to be waiting for someone. A man? A low growl rumbled in his chest and he felt his body react to the thought. Detached as he was from his actions, he found it all interesting. He had never felt threatened by man or beast or monster, yet looking at this young woman, he knew he would fight to the death for a chance to taste her blood, to feel the softness of her skin, to hear her heart match the rhythm of his.
    For the first time in his long life, he actually had erotic images of his own, not drawn from someone else's mind. They rose up to taunt him. This woman writhing and moaning, pleading with him to give her everything. He wouldn't feel a thing when he took her offering, but maybe, if he took her life at the same time, he would have that one moment…
    Her head snapped around and her gaze locked on him. There wasn't the instant look in her eyes he had come to expect—woman spotting attractive male. She looked like a predator, gaze burning, mouth firm. Her body was all woman, dressed in layers of clothing, a high-necked dark sweater with long sleeves that covered her wrists. A pair of dark leggings that ran into serviceable boots covered shapely legs. A wraparound skirt was cinched at her small waist with a wide leather belt and hugged the fitted leggings but gave her ease of movement and a long, warm cloak hung from her shoulders to her knees.
    There was something familiar about her, as if they may have met before. Try as he might, he could not look away from her. Always with women he had the upper hand, drawing them to him with his looks and dangerous air, yet he had the feeling this woman wasn't at all consumed with desire for him.
    Again he had a visceral reaction deep in his gut. A need for her to want him. Come to me now. Offer yourself to me . There was shame in using the gift of his voice to entrap and enthrall her, it would have made the fantasy better to have her come to him of her own accord. Afterward he might even be able to convince himself she wanted him, but not like this, with compulsion.
    Her body jerked. Her chin went up and the bright eyes smoldered. As if she knew . She began to walk toward him. He moved into deeper shadows, his heart pounding. He could already taste her in his mouth, feel her soft skin sliding against his. His blood surged hotly.
    She was of average height and his size dwarfed hers, but she had womanly curves and looked strong. She moved with fluid grace, not at all stumbling and halting as if fighting a compulsion. For a moment the clouds parted and light spilled across her face. His gut knotted.
    Stop! Go back. Get inside . He had to save her. His hands shook—actually shook—and damn him forever to hell, his body stirred, hot and hard and aching for her, when in all his years he had never had such a response. Her life—her very soul as well as his—was in danger. Even as he warned her, he took a step toward her. Wanting her.