Daniel took Serai’s hand and headed back to the cave, which also served as the temporary headquarters of Quinn’s rebels. There would be supplies. Gear. Whatever he needed to help Serai find that damn stone and be safe. He swept a glance down her curves, now neatly attired in the same nondescript tan pants and white shirt that many of the others wore, and he couldn’t help but miss the filmy gown. But even in the plain contemporary clothing, with her glorious hair restrained in a simple braid down her back, she was obviously an Atlantean high-born lady. The way she held her head, the electric charge of restrained magic, even her graceful carriage in spite of the chunky hiking boots that now adorned her feet—nobody would mistake her for anything but aristocracy.
And all he wanted to do was remove every stitch of the new clothing and wrap himself around her until every inch of their skin was touching. Hold her. Explore her curves and learn her body. Teach her the ways of a man and a woman together, and discover for himself what it would be like to be with a woman whom his heart desired, not just his body. Even her braid tantalized him, as if begging him to release it and spread her hair out on silken sheets. He remembered fantasizing, so long ago, about her wearing nothing to his bed but the necklace he’d designed for her.
A stupid fantasy. The blacksmith and the beauty, indeed. Only in Hollywood’s version of fairy tales did a story like that work out.
“Daniel,” she murmured. “You’re holding my hand a little too tight.”
He relaxed his grip, feeling like a fool. Or the beast he’d named himself. She deserved better. Once she was safe and back in Atlantis, he was sure Conlan would find someone for her. Someone far more worthy than a vampire with blood on his hands. It was for the best.
So why did the mere thought of it make him want to kill someone?
“I don’t know you anymore,” she said. “It’s neither excuse nor apology, but I don’t know the man you’ve become, and I don’t know what violence you’re capable of doing in a moment’s anger. I had little contact with nightwalkers—my only experience, in fact, was with the master of your smithy and the fact that he didn’t eat me when we were trapped in that hole in the ground.”
“I need to hear it. All of it. What happened that day. Why you left me. Why you agreed to this stasis.” He stopped and wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close to his body in the sweet darkness of newly fallen night. “I know now is not the time, but when this is over and you’re safe, I need to hear it. I need to know.”
She looked up at him and solemnly nodded. “I know. We have much to tell before we can decide . . . many things. Soon.”
Her voice was calm and controlled, but he was a vampire and could hear her heart racing in her chest. Not from fear. He hoped it wasn’t fear. Could he dare believe it might be attraction? Even after all these years? Before he could doubt himself, he claimed what he’d wanted to steal from her since the day she first walked into his shop back in Atlantis. He leaned down and captured her lips with his own, tasting her sweetness. Sinking into her warmth.
And the world shattered.