Edge of Twilight. Maggie Shayne

kill her.

      And he had to be around when they located Stiles.

      So he could kill the man.

      He didn’t think the imposing Rhiannon would be willing to take him along on her hunt for the man. But that didn’t matter. Rhiannon wasn’t going to find Stiles, he decided in that moment. Because Stiles was going to come here. Right here.

      He had never had the chance to finish his experiments on the Child of Promise. It must have driven him to madness when she’d escaped. Like Amber Lily herself, Stiles might not yet know the full range of his powers. He might not even know his vulnerabilities. And that was something he would be burning to know.

      Imagine, being unaware of what—if anything—could kill you.

      No, Stiles was going to come here, because Edge had the perfect bait to bring him here. Amber Lily Bryant.

      Alby.

      He would win her trust. He would learn her secrets. He would put out the word that she was here, and then he would use her to lure the man he hated more than any other.

      And then he would kill Frank Stiles. It would be easy.

      “Rhiannon,” Amber said softly, as the older woman got to her feet. “You’ll have to be very careful with him. If you kill him, we’ll never learn his secrets.”

      “Oh, I won’t kill him. I might make him beg me to kill him, but I won’t.”

      Amber nodded.

      “You’re needed here, Amber. Dante and Morgan are on their way, but Sarafina needs you here. So does Willem. There’s no one for him during the daylight hours. It’s not good, when he’s ill.”

      Amber nodded.

      “I’ll take the blood and the journals to Eric myself.”

      “My parents are on their way to him, as well, in hopes they can be of some help.”

      “Good. We’ll need all the help we can get.” Rhiannon lowered her head, smiling slightly. “If someone had told me I would one day be so desperate to save the life of a mortal, I’d have laughed in their face,” she said. “And yet, I cannot bear to see that bitch of a vampiress in this much pain.”

      “It’s because she reminds you of yourself,” Amber said.

      “Please, she doesn’t come close to me. I’m the daughter of a pharoah. A princess of Egypt.”

      “She’s tough as nails, arrogant and slightly ruthless.”

      Rhiannon lowered her head. “And yet she’s reduced to.” She cast a glance upward, toward the second floor bedroom. “I can hardly bear to see her this way.”

      “I know.” Amber lowered her head. She sighed. “So when do you want to leave?”

      “As soon as Willem returns.” She sighed. “I suppose it’s a good thing that stubborn mortal insisted on going to tonight’s appointment on his own. He must have known Sarafina needed to vent some of this.”

      “And that she would never do it in front of him,” Amber added with a nod. “Do you know how to draw blood, Rhiannon?” Amber rolled up a shirtsleeve as she asked the question.

      Rhiannon laughed softly, and Amber, realizing the irony of asking what she just had of a vampire, laughed, as well. Then her aunt nodded. “Eric gave me rather detailed instructions. I have everything we need in my room. Paid a late-night visit to a medical clinic in Salem.”

      “Let’s get it done, then,” Amber said, getting to her feet.

      Edge, drawn against his will, had to see this for himself. He crept up to the house, opening his senses to determine their location within. Then he crept inside, up to the bedroom, and watched while Rhiannon tied a rubber tourniquet around Amber’s upper arm. She inserted a needle in the crook of Amber’s elbow, then released the band.

      Scarlet nectar flowed from her pink, healthy flesh, filling the tube and spilling into the plastic bag at its end. It ran in time with her pulse, increasing in pressure each time her heart beat. Edge’s hunger gnawed at him, and his eyes would not move away from the rush of blood into that bag. He licked his lips. His passion stirred. How he would love to taste her. Just once.

      “That should do,” Rhiannon said when the bag was full. She removed the needle, pressed a cotton gauze pad to the tiny pinprick and bent the girl’s arm over it. Then she gathered the other items. “Lie here for a while. I’ll put this away and bring you some juice.”

      Edge ducked around a corner as Rhiannon left the bedroom. She paused in the hallway, looking this way and that, a frown etching her brow. He tried to draw himself inward and erect shields. He must have slipped, turned on by the blood.

      When she continued on her way, Edge moved into the bedroom.

      Amber saw him, and her eyes widened. “What are you doing here?”

      “I told you I’d be back.” His stomach knotted. “I felt as if you needed help, felt your blood being drained. But I see I misread the situation.” He moved closer to the bed where she lay.

      “Everything’s fine, but it’s nice to know you would have come charging to the rescue if it hadn’t been.”

      He took her wrist in his hand, unbent her arm and gently peeled the gauze away from the tiny pinprick. “I’m just heroic that way, I guess,” he whispered. Then he bent his head and pressed his lips to the wound. He tasted the barest hint of her blood, and his mind caught fire.

      He heard the breath whisper out of her, and he couldn’t resist letting his tongue dart out, licking a hot path over the crook of her elbow, tasting a tiny ruby droplet that lingered there. A shiver worked through his very bones at the taste of her.

      She didn’t taste like a mortal woman. She didn’t taste like a vampire, either. She tasted different, exotic, and the jolt that hit him when her blood touched his tongue was far more powerful than anything he’d ever felt before.

      Her fingers curled in his hair. She almost pressed him closer. Almost. Her hand was shaking with the effort she had to make not to. He felt it—everything she felt whispered through him.

      Forcibly, he lifted his head away, wondering silently just what the hell kind of power this woman had. He’d never felt anything like her—and he hadn’t heard anything about this part of her in the legends. No one had ever whispered that touching her could cause shock, that tasting her could be addictive, or that looking into those deep, dark eyes could prove fatal.

      He had to avert his eyes and pull his insides back together, so he turned to take a little bandage from the bedside stand. He peeled off the wrapping, tried not to let his hands shake too badly as he applied it to her wound.

      “Th-thanks,” she whispered.

      He met her eyes quickly, knowing that his tasting her had shaken her as much as it had him. He thought about kissing her then. Not to further his plan, though it would certainly do that. But just because he wanted to. And Edge had never been one to deny himself anything he wanted. So he leaned a little closer.

      “Well now, what have we here?” Rhiannon asked from the doorway.

      4

      He stopped in midmotion, seeing the alarm in Amber’s eyes at the sound of the other woman’s voice.

      She cleared her throat. “Aunt Rhiannon, this is Edge.”

      Rhiannon came forward even as Edge got to his feet, turned to face her and put on his most charming smile. He extended a hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard of you. Princess of Egypt, right?”

      The beautiful woman’s stern expression softened just slightly. “Yes.” She took the hand he offered, shook it. “And how did you meet my Amber Lily?”

      “She hit me with her car.”