Page 12 of When Bones Whisper
“Don’t scream,” he ordered, his voice a low whisper as he bridged the gap between them.
She nodded once, and he tilted his head to the side, his rain-soaked dark locks curling over his forehead. As he got closer, she breathed in the scent of his cologne—musk, smoked wood, and cedar. Her pulse quickened, drawing his eyes to her neck.
Slowly, he released his fingers one by one, as if he was testing her to see if she would call for help. Once he’d removed his hand entirely, she heaved in a deep breath.
A surge of raw alertness charged through her nerves, and a tingle built at the base of her spine, creeping upward and into her shoulders.
“Charlotte Lovett?” he asked gravely, his full lips parting slightly.
“Yes,” she answered, her breath hitching when he accidentally grazed his fingers against her forearm. “Who are you?”
“Nathaniel Sallow,” he said with a tilt of his head. “I’m here to help you.”
She’d heard that name before, in her ancestor’s voice, all wrapped in warning.
“You’re a vampire,” she stated, noticing the subtle way his eyes flicked to her throat. “Thefirst vampire.”
He drank her in with his predator stare—pointed, magnetic, and endless. Looking into them felt like falling—dizzying, weightless, and deadly.
“You’ve heard ofme, yet, until today, I had not heard ofyou.” He pulled back just an inch when she didn’t answer, barely enough room for her to breathe comfortably. “Are you afraid?”
She wasn’t sure what she felt, but it wasn’t fear. “No.”
The subtle tremor around his lips betrayed the calmness of the rest of his face. “How intriguing. You do not fear death?”
Of course she did, but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of admitting that.
“Why? Are you going to kill me?” she asked pointedly, her breath stammering on the word.
“Not today,” he said, leaning down. She breathed in the scent of the soap in his hair, a woodsy, citrus laced smell that made her heart race. Her stomach somersaulted when he licked his lips. Maybe it was because she hadn’t been that close to a man, other than her repulsive cousin, in years since the man who broke her heart.
Clearing her throat, she asked, “Can you move back a little?”
An unsettling smile curved his mouth. “Are you uncomfortable?”
“Yes.”
That wasn’t entirely true, but the tingles she was feeling were entirely too inappropriate. Everything about him was designed to lure prey into a false sense of security, before tearing them apart, but goodness, did he have to bethathandsome? Did all vampires look him?
After a few seconds, he relented, the tendons in his neck and arms roping when he inched back as if doing so was a strain on his body. His fingers gently swept against hers before he took a step back. Shockwaves pulsed through her clammy palms and into her chest.
Without breaking eye contact, he ran his hand over his short, dark stubble, then into his hair.
“Better?” he asked and pushed his sleeves up his forearms.
No.
“Yes,” she said, and pressed her fingers to her chest, surprised at the way her body missed his closeness. “I have a visitor, actually.”
“I know,” he said. “She’s a witch. Comes from a dangerous family.”
“Let me guess,” she said with a hard swallow. “An Avery?”
“You know them.”
She peeled herself away from the wall and turned to face him, hyperaware of her state of undress. It didn’t help when his eyes raked over her body, his fangs showing when he dragged his bottom lip between his teeth.
“I’ve heard of them. I was told they want me dead, just like you.”
