Night's Surrender by Amanda Ashley

“Abbey, I think you’d better sit down.”
    â€œI think you’re right,” she murmured, and after quietly closing the door in his face, she sank down on the floor, knees bent, her face buried in her hands.
    â€œAbbey? Abbey! Dammit, answer me!?”
    â€œGo away, Nick. Please, just go away.”
    â€œAll right,” he replied. “But I’m not going far. You still owe me another date.”
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    Nick paced away from the cottage, melting into the cool shadows beneath the trees. He could be active during the day, but only when the moon was high in the sky did he feel fully alive.
    Mind spinning, he stared at the distant mountains. Mara was here. His thoughts traveled back in time to that fateful night when he had met a beguiling young woman with hair like black silk and eyes as green as the grassy banks of the Nile. As if it had happened yesterday, he remembered being seduced by her. Remembered the sting of her fangs at his throat, the horror of learning what she was. What he had become. The fear that engulfed him when he woke one night to find her gone.
    Abandoned by his maker after only a few months, he had been lost, uncertain of what he truly was, ignorant of most of the powers that were now his. Driven by an insatiable lust for blood, he had savaged those he fed upon, killed indiscriminately before he discovered that he didn’t have to take a life to sustain his own, that he could make feeding pleasurable for those he preyed upon. How many lives had he needlessly taken before he learned to control his hunger? Even now, centuries later, the guilt rode him with whip and spurs. Yes, she owed him, he thought, owed him for the lives he had taken. For the life she had stolen from him.
    He glanced back at the cottage. Only a few short days ago, he had yearned for death, had intended to spend the rest of his existence seeking Mara’s whereabouts and an end to his damnably long life. Now the means to that end was here, but death no longer held any appeal because Abbey was also here.
    Abbey. Her smile was brighter than the sun, her life’s blood sweeter than honey.
    He would not court death now. Not while she drew breath.
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    Abbey sat on the floor for a long while, her mind blessedly blank. Eventually, the hard floor drove her to her feet. She stood there a moment, then shook her head. Needing something to take her mind off Nick, she went into the bedroom and unpacked her suitcases, hanging her clothes in the closet, carefully folding her underwear before putting it in the dresser.
    She stripped the linen from the bed and tossed it into the washing machine located in a small alcove off the kitchen, dusted the furniture, vacuumed the carpets. And when that was done, she took a quick shower, slipped into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, pulled on her boots. A nice long ride was exactly what she needed to clear her head.
    After peering out the front window to make sure Nick was gone, she went to the barn and saddled Freckles.
    The Appy was eager to run. Giving the mare her head, Abbey surrendered to the sheer joy of racing over the gently rolling hills, reveling in the kiss of the afternoon sun on her cheeks and the warm wind blowing in her hair. It was exhilarating, liberating.
    Gradually, Freckles slowed to a canter, then a trot, then a walk.
    Murmuring, “Whoa, girl,” Abbey drew rein in the shade of a tree. Dismounting, she ground-tied the mare, loosened the saddle cinch, then flopped down on the grass. She sat there a moment, then fell back, arms outstretched, and closed her eyes.
    When she opened them again, Nick sat beside her.
    Startled, she jackknifed into a sitting position, her heart pounding. “Go away.”
    â€œAbbey, please . . .”
    â€œPlease what?”
    â€œDon’t be afraid of me. You’ve nothing to fear from me, I swear it on the memory of my mother.”
    â€œYou had a mother?” she asked flippantly.
    He shrugged.