A Body to Die For. Kimberly Raye
herself. And, of course, her aversion to sunlight. But she’d been a saloon whore, plying her trade all night and sleeping all day, and so he hadn’t thought much about it.
He’d fallen hard and fast, and he hadn’t been able to pick himself back up. Hell, he hadn’t wanted to.
She’d been the first thing he’d thought of when he’d opened his eyes every morning and the last thing when he’d closed them at night.
He’d even imagined her there at the end, leaning over him as he’d sprawled facedown on the ground, his blood seeping out into the dirt. Her scent had filled his head. Her soft, silky hair had brushed his temple. And just like that, he’d been distracted from the pain and suffering of the knife wounds.
A hallucination, of course.
He’d been miles away from the saloon when he’d been attacked by a group of Mexican bandits, robbed and left for dead.
An easy target for the vampire who’d come along to finish the job.
He could still remember the presence looming over his wounded body, the strong hand gripping his hair and yanking his head back, the razor-sharp fangs piercing his throat.
One minute he’d been hanging onto his life by a thread and the next, the line had snapped. Death had taken him, only to spit him back out when the vampire had rolled him over and drip-dropped his own blood into Garret’s mouth.
Garret hadn’t even caught a glimpse of his sire. He’d been too weak to see more than a shadow looming over him.
Seconds later, he’d been alone, sprawled on the ground without a clue as to what had just happened. Until daybreak arrived and the first rays of sunlight topped the horizon.
The past pushed and pulled, snatching him from the here and now and luring him back to the morning of his turning.
He fought against the pain gripping him and forced his eyes open. He felt cold. So cold. His teeth chattered, and his body shook. He stared through blurry eyes. Orange topped the trees, promising warmth and a rush of relief went through him. Now he would warm up.
In…just…a…few…seconds…
A shaft of light fell across his face, and pain sliced clear to his bones. A hiss worked its way up his throat as he jerked his head to the side. The heat slashed across his shoulders, and he scrambled away. He staggered to his feet. Pain beat at his temples as the light cracked at his body like a red hot whip.
He stumbled for the trees, but they weren’t enough to shield him completely. His skin burned and sizzled and he moved deeper into the forest. Light filtered down through the branches, stabbing him at every step. The pungent scent of charred flesh clogged his nostrils and choked him. Smoke burned his eyes, blurring his vision as he glanced around, frantic for a place to hide.
Another shaft of light broke through the trees, and he dodged to the left. His foot came up against a rock and he pitched forward, landing facedown on the ground. Clawing at the ground, he pushed until he managed to lift his head. A black hole loomed in front of him.
He dug his fingers into the dirt and pulled himself forward, over sharp rocks and prickly cactus until he managed to crawl inside. He went deeper, deeper, until the light disappeared and he found himself sheltered in the dark, cool interior.
Heaven.
That’s what Garret had thought. The deep, narrow cave had been his shelter. His salvation.
But over the next several hours as the hunger had taken full control, the small space had turned into his own personal hell, a place where he’d fought a losing battle for his soul.
It was a battle that had lasted several days, as Garret remained hidden away in the cave, resisting the bloodlust and trying to come to terms with what he’d become.
Meanwhile, Viv had been back at the saloon, seducing any and every cowboy who’d walked in. Talking them into drinks. Luring them back to her room. Spreading her legs and opening her arms.
Deceiving them the way she’d deceived him.
The realization had come when he’d finally given in to the hunger and left the cave. He’d gone back to town in search of food. But before he’d sank his fangs into anyone, he’d gone to the saloon first. He’d meant to explain things to her, to beg for her help and her understanding.
But she’d already understood because she was every bit the vampire he’d become.
Even so, he’d thought that she still felt something for him. Something that went beyond the bloodlust and the need for sex.
Love.
He’d been wrong.
“I can’t be with you like this. Not now. Not ever again.”
He could still hear her voice as she’d turned her back and walked away from him.
She’d left him because he’d become a vampire who could see through her lies. A vampire who could no longer give her the sustenance she needed—the sexual energy—because he needed it for himself.
And so she’d abandoned him to find someone else to feed the beast that lived and breathed inside of her.
As for love…She hadn’t loved him, and he hadn’t really loved her. He’d been mesmerized by her, seduced by her vamp magic like any other weak human.
But he wasn’t susceptible to her now.
Even if he did have an aching hard-on.
“What do you say?” The soft voice pushed into his thoughts and pulled him back to the present. To the smoke-filled bar and the horny woman sitting next to him. “Would you, um, like to come back to my place?”
Yes.
The answer was there on the tip of his tongue despite his self-made vow. He needed her. To ease the pain inside his body, feed the hunger and fill him with a burst of energy.
He felt so tired at that moment.
So damned hungry.
His gaze hooked on the lipstick imprint on her glass again, and his chest tightened. “I’m afraid I’m a little busy right now.” He slid several bills onto the counter and reached for the bottle of Jack Daniels. “But you have a nice night, sugar.” He turned and left her staring longingly after him.
Because even more than Garret Sawyer needed to feed, suddenly he needed to forget.
The dark hair.
The true blue eyes.
The luscious body and fragrant skin.
The damned voice that echoed over and over in his head “I can’t be with you like this.”
And so he sank down at the nearest table, touched the open bottle to his lips and did what he hadn’t done since Viv Darland had walked out on him all those years ago.
He started to drink.
And he didn’t stop.
Chapter 4
“HOW’S THIS?”
“Move a little to the right,” Viv told the short, balding, forty-six-year-old man who stood behind the counter of Skull Creek’s one and only motel.
It was two hours since she’d left the Iron Horseshoe, and she was desperate for a distraction. Something to pass the time and get her mind off Garret and the anticipation bubbling inside of her.
Enter Eldin Atkins.
He was the owner of the Skull Creek Inn and, more importantly, the oldest bachelor in town. He’d inherited both the motel and his grandmother, Winona, when his parents had retired to a small fishing port on the Gulf Coast. Eldin made all the reservations and looked after Winona while she puttered around, straightening rooms and poking her nose in everyone’s business.