Corin & Angelique (After the Fall of Night) by Sherri Claytor Page A

vases and fine collectibles—items of priceless value presumably passed down throughout the years from heir to heir. The estate was, after all, ages old.
    “Just a little proof that I’m a modern man.” He pointed out a desktop computer tucked away in one of the first floor rooms. “World Wide Web connected and all that jazz.”
    “Impressive. Although, I never accused you of being old fashioned. Besides, I might be a modern woman, but I have an old soul.”
    Corin looked into her eyes. “Something I can completely relate to.”
    Passing through a lengthy corridor, portraits adorned both walls—paintings and old photographs—leaving little vacant space between them. Angelique slowed her pace, studying the faces, stopping when she came upon a large photograph to her left. The man held an uncanny resemblance to Corin. If she hadn’t known it to be impossible, by the age of the individual in the picture—at least ten years Corin’s senior—she’d have sworn it was him.
    “The likeness,” she spoke under her breath. “It’s too much to ignore.”
    “My uncle, Victor von Vadim,” Corin told her.
    “This could be you in a few more years.”
    “Yes. We look a lot alike,” he remarked nonchalantly.
    “You certainly do.” Angelique’s gaze traced the man’s features, taken aback by several striking similarities.
    “I’d say he was nearing forty in this sitting. Handsome man, don’t you think?” Corin said with humor.
    Angelique smiled but never pulled her eyes away from the portrait.
    “Shall we move on?” Corin urged. “I’d like to show you the second floor library.”
    Angelique reluctantly f ollowed, feeling unsettled by the photograph. It was more than just a mere resemblance between the subject of that portrait and Corin. Everything was all so exact, even down to the dimple marking Corin’s left cheek. And the thing alarming her the most were the eyes—those dark and piercing eyes—Corin’s eyes.
    The thoughts running through her mind were illogical and ridiculous, reminding her of the feeling she’d had when meeting Victor von Vadim all those years ago as a child. But she told herself that it was nothing more than a close family resemblance and pushed the troubling feeling aside.
    What other explanation could there be?
     
    * * * *
     
    Later that night, Corin fed. He hated taking nourishment from grazing cows, but they were the best alternative to human blood available, and readily attainable. Just as every other creature existing in the living world, he needed sustenance, and for him, that meant finding fresh blood.
    Black River Falls Memorial Hospital, where he’d been fortunate enough to treat himself to a pint of human blood from time to time, was no longer an option. The facility had suddenly heightened their security measures, making it much too risky for the steal. He, of course, had powers to assist him in accomplishing the theft, but it just wasn’t worth the chance of exposure. So for now, he would do without the occasional splurge and continue to satisfy his insatiable hunger with the blood of these mooing beasts. There were other options, but ones he chose not to pursue. Attacking innocent mortals for means of feeding was something he refrained from doing. He’d worked hard to conquer his cravings and hold the bloodthirsty monster at bay. He had no intention of backsliding now. It was crucial that he cling to whatever humanity there was remaining within him. His human part might have been the smallest part of him, but it was, without question, the most precious.
    Corin sank his fangs deep into the animal’s neck, drinking in the warm sustenance. In his haste to feed, a drop of blood trickled from the edge of his mouth and he quickly wiped it away. If nothing else, he was a well-mannered eater. He might have been partial monster, but he wasn’t devoid of etiquette.
    When he finished, Corin closed the bite-wound with a pass of his hand and sent the beast on its way. The