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.”
Rhiannon blinked, shot a shocked look at Amber on the bed.
“It was an accident,” she said. “But I figured the least I could do was give him a ride. He was coming this way anyway.”
Her brows went up. “Really? And what brings you to Salem Harbor, Edge?”
“Amber’s Ferrari.”
She made a face, not embracing his humor.
“Actually, I just always wanted to see it.”
She didn’t seem to believe him. “Well, now you can.”
He licked his lips. “I, um—I heard the commotion. Is there anything I can do?”
“We have things under control.”
He nodded, then cast a glance at Amber in the bed. “I suppose I should go, then. Leave you to it.”
“It was nice meeting you,” Rhiannon said, stepping to one side of the open doorway.
Amber sat up on the bed, swinging her feet to the floor. “Do you have somewhere to stay?”
He smiled at her. “I’ll find a place. I always do.”
She sent Rhiannon a pleading look, to which the other woman responded with a scowl. But then, from outside the room, another voice came.
“That’s the problem with royalty. They can be so rude.” A third woman came into the room. She wore a plush robe and looked drained of energy. Her feet dragged a little when she walked, and her eyes were red, as if she had been crying or was suffering a hangover.
Amber shot to her feet, and Rhiannon turned to reach for the woman, but she held her hands up and stopped them both. “Don’t.”
Rhiannon sighed, but lowered her arms to her sides. “You should be sleeping.”
She shrugged. “Tell your friend Eric his vampire-tranquilizer needs tweaking. It might have put you out of commission, Rhiannon, but for a vampiress as powerful as I am, it only produces a slight buzz.”
“If you were yourself, Gypsy, I’d show you the meaning of powerful.” Rhiannon said the words gently, though. It wasn’t a real threat.
The “Gypsy” crossed the room, gently embraced Amber. “I didn’t exactly give you a proper greeting, did I?”
“It’s understandable,” Amber said, hugging her back.
As they pulled apart, the vampiress studied Amber, stroked a hand over her hair. “It’s redder than last time I saw you.”
“More burgundy than red,” Rhiannon said.
Amber shrugged. “It always seems to be changing. Mom says I have raven hair with bloody highlights.”
She was all about highlights, Edge thought in silence. Her ebony eyes turned darkest midnight-blue if you looked closely enough. He wondered if they had changed, as well, or if they’d always been that way. Not that it mattered in the least to him.
The third woman was facing him now, offering a weak smile and a hand. “I’m Sarafina.”
He took her hand. Her grip wasn’t as strong as he would have expected in one as old as she was. The power of a vampire floated around them like a nimbus. It grew with age, and he sensed a depth of it in this woman—nearly as much as he felt wafting from Rhiannon. But it was hiding now, or dormant.
“They call me Edge.”
“And you’re a friend of Amber Lily’s?”
He glanced her way. “I’d like to be.”
“Then you’re more than welcome to stay here with us.”
