He tried to comfort her, to give her his strength, but he couldn't stop the pain. Couldn't stop the blinding flashes of light.
His gut twisted. Her end was near. Death was reaching out his hungry hands to claim her.
«No!” William screamed. “I won't let you go! You can't leave me!»
Not again. He would not sit by while death claimed someone else that belonged to him.
He stood, holding her slight weight easily, and ran for the parking lot exit. Beyond the concrete walls, he could see the night. He could see the faint light from the stars. The hazy moon.
Just a few more steps.
He erupted into the night, his body shooting up into the sky. Savannah was held tightly to him, locked in his powerful embrace.
Time was running out. He had to find a safe place for her. He had to make certain that she was protected so that the ritual could begin.
He scanned the terrain. “Hold on,” he whispered to her still figure. “Just hold on!»
There! He flew down, landing on the deserted rooftop. They would be safe here. Safe from prying eyes and his brother.
He lowered her gently onto the roof. His hand smoothed against her brow, gently pushing back her tangled hair. Her skin was pale, far too pale. She would not live much longer.
«Savannah,” her name was a sigh, a prayer. “Sweet Savannah.»
He lowered his head to her throat, still listening carefully for the faint beat of her heart. How long had it been since he'd last heard its beat? Seconds? Minutes?
Then he heard a faint stuttering sound. Her heart!
He hesitated. Was she strong enough? Would she be able to survive the kiss?
«William.»
His gaze flew to her face. Her eyes were still closed. Her cheeks hollowed. Had she spoken? Or had his feverish mind conjured her voice?
He touched her lips gently and saw her bruised throat move as she struggled to swallow, struggled to speak.
«Kiss me, William,” she begged. “Kiss me.»
His lips lowered to hers. As gentle as the wind, as soft as the night, he caressed her, worshipped her. He breathed into her mouth, trying to give her his strength, his energy, his very soul.
Her heartbeat stopped, and she gasped.
«No!” She would not leave him. He would not allow it! They had made a vow. She'd promised him eternity. He would not lose her to death.
He sank his teeth into her throat. Her sweet blood slid over his tongue, hot, pure. It made him ravenous. He wanted to drink, to drink all of her.
But he could feel her slipping away. Her spirit was leaving. She was leaving him.
He pulled back, her blood sliding down his chin. With his teeth, he ripped a long, jagged path across his wrist and put the wound over her mouth, moving her throat so that she was forced to swallow the precious liquid. She had to take his blood. She had to drink from him, or the ritual would never work.
He pressed against her chest, against her heart. Once, twice. He willed her heart to move. To beat. Just once more. Just long enough for her to drink. To transform.
He poured all of his power into her, pushing his psychic gifts to the limit. And her heart began to beat.
Her eyes shot open, blank and frightened. He lifted his hand, forcing her to drink his blood.
Her lips moved, as light as a butterfly, against his skin. Just a little bit more…
She collapsed, her body sinking into his arms.
He stared down at her, fear consuming him. Had it been enough? Had she gotten enough for the ritual?
He couldn't feel her heartbeat. She wasn't breathing.
He spoke quickly, reciting the words he hadn't spoken for over nine hundred years. “I give to you my blood, my life. Take it, become one. One of the chosen. Be of the night. Be of me.” He leaned forward, whispering against her still lips. “Be with me, forever, as I give you the kiss.” He pressed his lips against hers, tasting blood, tasting fear.
He heard thunder echo in the distance, and the wind howled. He could smell the storm, feel its approach as it whipped around them.
He didn't move. He just sat there, cradling her cold, still body against his.
Had he waited too long? Had her spirit already left? As Henry's had left? Was he too late, again?
The minutes ticked by in silence. Savannah continued to lay ominously still in his arms.
His hands clenched around her. Too late. He'd been too late, again.
Rain exploded from the sky. Torrents fell, drenching him, washing the blood from her body, from his.
Forgive me. The words screamed inside his mind. He'd failed her. As he'd failed Henry.
He kissed her again. Kissed her wet, still lips.
His chest burned. “Damn you,” he whispered, staring down into her pale face. “You promised that you'd stay with me.” His hand stroked her cheek.
He couldn't believe that she was gone. Not Savannah. She was too strong. Too good.
He would kill Geoffrey. He would see his brother dead before the next sun set. He would—
Her lashes fluttered. Her lips parted, and a soft gasp emerged from her mouth.
«Savannah!” He cradled her against him, using his body to shield her from the pouring rain.
Her lashes lifted. Her eyes, so pure, so green, met his. She smiled tiredly. “Hello, William.»
CHAPTER 12
Life does not stop with death.
-Entry from the diary of Henry de Montfort,
December 16, 1068.
She could hear the sound of wind chimes, light, soothing music that floated toward her.
She lay unmoving, just listening to the soft sound. The chimes reminded her of home, of her apartment. She had wind chimes on her balcony, and she awoke everyday to their soothing greeting.
But she wasn't at home now. She couldn't be. And she was afraid.
Afraid to open her eyes. Afraid of what she would see. Her last memory had been of William. Rain had pounded down on him, and he'd been soaked to the bone. Blood had mingled with the water and ran down his face in rivulets. His eyes had been red, redder than the fires of hell. He'd looked both furious and frightened. She'd known that he was enraged at his brother. But why had he been frightened?
She'd glimpsed him for only a moment, and then she had fallen back into the dark world that waited for her. What world would she see today?
She took a deep breath and her eyes opened.
She saw her bedroom wall. She saw the mural that she'd painted, the swirling waves of the ocean and the distant lighthouse.
She saw her bookshelves, her computer. Her wicker furniture and her small dressing table.
She sat up quickly, staring at the room in wonder. How had she gotten back—
Her bedroom door opened and William walked inside. He froze when he realized that she was awake.