Enchant the Night. Amanda Ashley
he was a vampire,” Vivian said, stifling a grin.
“That’s not funny! What if he was some crazy homeless guy and he had some horrible disease?”
Vivian leaned forward again, her gaze narrowing. “Did it leave a mark?”
“No. But it kind of tingled for a while afterwards.” Callie took a deep breath and blew it out in a long sigh. She never should have said anything.
Callie was reaching for the check when the oddest sensation engulfed her. Almost as if drawn by some invisible hand, she turned toward the entrance, felt a sudden chill snake down her spine when she saw the tall, dark-haired man standing in the doorway. It was him! The man who had bitten her. She was sure of it. “Vivian! Look! Over there, by the entrance! It’s him!”
“Where? I don’t see anyone.”
Callie frowned. “But . . . but he was there a second ago. I saw him! I know I did.”
* * *
Quill melted into the shadows, shaken by the peculiar sense of awareness that had passed between him and the woman when their gazes had met. Had she felt it, too?
And what the hell did it mean?
Chapter 3
At home, Callie couldn’t relax. She tried to watch a movie, only to turn it off and reach for a book, which she soon put aside. A cup of hot chocolate didn’t help to calm her nerves. Neither did a warm bubble bath or a lavender-scented candle.
Clad in her favorite PJs, she paced the living room floor, unable to forget or understand the odd sensation that had thrummed through her when she’d met the stranger’s eyes—some weird connection she couldn’t explain or deny, almost as if his soul had touched hers.
She told herself that was ridiculous. She didn’t believe in psychic soul mates or love at first sight, although what she felt was far from love. The man was stalking her, and that scared her to death. What if he wanted to bite her again?
What if, as Vivian had so flippantly suggested, he really was a vampire?
She dismissed that thought out of hand, but having once considered it, it kept sneaking back in. He certainly looked like a vampire. Long, dark hair. Long, black coat. Hypnotic eyes.
She shook her head. Nobody believed in vampires these days, not when there were so many other, scarier, things to be afraid of.
Mentally exhausted, she stretched out on the sofa. Unable to get comfortable, she shuffled into the bedroom, slid under the covers, and closed her eyes....
And he was there. A tall, broad-shouldered man with mesmerizing deep-gray eyes and thick, brown hair so dark it was almost black. A jagged white scar started at the edge of his jaw, ran down his neck, and disappeared beneath his shirt collar.
She shivered as his gaze caught and held hers, stood frozen as he glided toward her.
Callie. He whispered her name, drawing it out like a caress.
The sound of his voice did funny things in the pit of her stomach. When he extended his hand toward her, she was helpless to do anything but go to him. She whimpered when he took her in his arms.
His gaze searched her face. Who are you? he asked, his voice filled with a note of wonder. What are you?
She stared up at him, not knowing what to say.
He trailed his knuckles along her cheek and down the length of her neck, then ran his fingertips over her lips. His touch, as light as butterfly wings, sent a frisson of desire racing through her.
Callie. Just her name. A single word filled with intense longing.
When he brushed her hair aside and lowered his head to her throat, she trembled from head to foot, whether from fear or anticipation, she couldn’t say. His breath was hot against her skin.
She moaned softly when he bit her, surprised by the warmth that swept through her in wave after wave of sensual pleasure. He was a stranger, and yet it felt like the most natural thing in the world to be in his arms, to press her body to his. She felt bereft when he lifted his head, would have cried his name, had she known it. Would have begged him not to stop. Tears burned her eyes when he kissed her lightly, then vanished from sight....
Callie woke abruptly, her cheeks damp with tears, her whole body quivering for his touch.
* * *
Lost in thought, Quill stood outside the woman’s house. He had intended to call her to him and dispose of her, but when his mind touched hers, he had discovered she was dreaming about him. It had taken little effort to merge his thoughts with hers. He didn’t know what had surprised him more, the fact that she was dreaming of him—or that he soon became as aroused as she. Dream or no dream, he had never felt such desire, such intense longing for any other woman.
Moving to the back of the house, he used his preternatural powers to open the bedroom window. Though the room was dark, he saw her clearly. She slept on her side, facing him, lips slightly parted, one hand beneath her cheek, the blankets bunched around her hips.
Callie.
She stirred but didn’t wake.
We need to meet.
She nodded in her sleep.
I’ll be waiting for you in Hunter Park tomorrow, just after sundown. Come to me.
Who are you?
Quill. Remember, Hunter Park. Tomorrow, after sundown.
She didn’t answer, but a faint smile of anticipation curved her lips.
* * *
Callie woke slowly, only to lie in bed staring up at the ceiling and listening to the melody of the wind chimes outside her window. Grandma Ava had told her that wind chimes drove away evil spirits.
Turning on her side, she frowned. She’d had the most peculiar dream, by turns unsettling and erotic. Strangest of all was the feeling that she needed to go to the park near her house tonight after sundown, though she couldn’t imagine why.
Shrugging it off, she slipped out of bed and wandered into the living room. It was Monday and she didn’t have anything scheduled for the day.
The morning stretched before her. Ordinarily, she would have been happy to have the time off, but not today. Today, she needed something to keep her from dwelling on the bizarre happenings of the weekend.
Shuffling into the kitchen, she fixed tea and toast for breakfast, then sat at the table, her mind replaying the dream she’d had the night before. Was he real, that strange, sexy man in the long, black coat, or just a figment of her all-too-vivid imagination? And if he did exist, who the devil was he? Maybe the Devil himself, she thought, fighting down a burst of hysterical laughter.
“Quill.” His name fell from her lips. How on earth did she know that?
The rest of the day passed in a blur. She vaguely remembered making her bed, talking to Vivian on the phone, thumbing through one of her photography magazines, eating lunch. But always in the back of her mind was the memory of her dream and the sound of a man’s voice in her head, calling her name, telling her to meet him in the park after sundown.
She was becoming obsessed, she thought. Obsessed with a shadow man.
As the sun set, she pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater, stepped into a pair of boots, and headed for Hunter Park. She told herself she must be crazy, going to meet a stranger in the park at night.
But it didn’t keep her home.
* * *
Anticipation flowed through Quill as he watched the woman enter the park, a wary expression on her face as she strolled along the winding path that led to the fountain in the center. How long had it been since he had known this sense of excitement? A hundred years? Two? It pulsated through him, making him feel vital and alive again, as if he