“That’s not what I—” Jane began, frustration flashing across her face, but then she stopped. Seemed to catch herself. Or maybe she just thought better of yelling at him. She cleared her throat and said, “I don’t know about the others.” She tightened her hands into little fists. “I just know about me. Until tonight…” She gave a broken laugh. “I thought I was the only freak out there.”
Anger hummed through him, and Alerac found himself crossing the room in quick strides. “You’re not a freak.” If anyone dared to call her that with him near…
Last mistake that person would make. Last.
Her smile was sad. “Everything I know about the world, I’ve pretty much learned from TV. I don’t remember anything about my life until six months ago. I even had to teach myself to read and I-I’m still not very good at that.” Shame whispered beneath that confession.
The instant she is free…I want her to forget. Lorcan’s words drifted through Alerac’s mind. The bastard. Alerac had thought he just meant that she would forget the pain of her imprisonment. All of those desperate years that she’d been trapped.
But Lorcan had taken every instant of her life away. Every memory.
“I need a witch.”
Jane blinked at him. “Do what now?”
Not just any witch. He’d need a very powerful one. “You’re under a spell.”
She looked at him as if he were crazy. A growl worked in his throat. “I turned into a wolf right before your eyes. You’re a vampire. Did you truly think nothing else out of the ordinary existed?” The shadows were full of monsters. She needed to realize that fact in order to keep surviving.
“Maybe I didn’t want them to exist.” A quiet confession.
What would he have to trade in order to the get the aid of a powerful witch? The price would be high. It always was. “We’ll get your memory back.”
Her head tilted as she stared up at him. “Do I want it back?”
No. There was no way that she could want to remember her imprisonment. Maybe I can keep that part from her. Maybe I can get a witch who will pull up only memories before the day she traded her life for mine.
“How do you know me? Were we…were we friends?” Before he could answer—and he didn’t want to lie, not to her—Jane shook her head. “Heath told me that you tracked vampires. That you killed them.”
True enough. He’d killed countless vampires over the centuries.
“Are you going to kill me?” Asked so softly as fear slid into her eyes.
“If I wanted you dead, I could have killed you behind Wylee’s Bar.” He could have killed the bouncers and her. Instead, he’d let the men live.
For her.
Jane swallowed.
“Your death isn’t what I want.”
“What do you want?”
“I already told you,” and because he couldn’t keep his hands off her, not for even another second, he pulled her against him. “You.”
When her lips parted in surprise, he took her mouth. The kiss should have been softer. She was delicate, almost broken, and he hated that. He wanted her strength back. Wanted her passion.
Yes, he should have used gentleness with her. Care. But he wasn’t human, and easy wasn’t the way of the beast.
His tongue thrust into her mouth as he lifted her up against him. So small. He took three steps, and he had her body pinned against the wall.
He would have gone straight for the bed, but he was trying—in his way—not to scare the hell out of her.
The wall seemed the safer alternative.
Maybe.
Her taste. Her f**king taste was incredible. The first time he’d kissed her—he still remembered that moment—he’d gotten a little drunk off her.
He was getting drunk right then.
She tasted of paradise, of every pleasure he’d ever had. Woman and temptation. Sweet wine.
Secrets in the dark.
His hands were wrapped around her waist. His fingers brushed just under her br**sts. He wanted to lift up his hands. To touch her ni**les. Pretty, pink ni**les.
She wasn’t kissing him back.
She had to feel the thick arousal pressing against her. The way he had her lifted up, there would be no missing it.
She wasn’t kissing him back.
His mouth eased from hers, just for a moment. “Kiss me back.” Growled words, and not what he’d wanted to say. He’d wanted to say…
Need me. Desire me. Crave me.
The way he craved her.
He put his mouth against hers once more. His tongue swept over her lips. Pushed into her mouth.
And her tongue—yes!—she kissed him back.
Her ni**les tightened against his chest. Her hips arched toward him, and her nails sank into his shoulders.
He liked the sting of pain.
Liked her mouth moving on his even more.
She kissed him with a tentative hunger, as if just discovering her desire again. He would help her to yearn, to need. He would guide her, show her every f**kin’ thing about his body.
About the passion they had together.
Her legs lifted. Wrapped around his hips.
He thrust against her, helpless. Dammit, he wanted in.
She was sucking his tongue. Giving a little moan in the back of her throat. His c**k was so swollen he hurt, and the only relief would come from her. He’d thrust into her, drive as deep as he could go. Her body would remember him. She’d respond just as she had before. “Keira…”
She shoved against him.
Because it was her, he let her go. Alerac eased her to the floor, then he dropped his hold. He stared at her, breath heaving, desire like a red haze before him.
“Wh-what did you call me?” Her breath came as fast as his. Her eyes were wide, filled with passion—and fear.
“Keira.” He said her name deliberately.
Her hands flattened on the wall behind her, as if she needed the support. “That’s…me?”
“Yes.” His Keira. She would be his again. Always. No one would take her from—
“No.” A definite shake of her head. “Don’t call me that, understand? I-I know you think you know me but…” Another fast shake of her head. “I don’t know you. And I don’t remember being her.”
But she was Keira. Lost, but finally found.
“I’m Jane.” Her voice was husky. Arousing. “Jane Smith. That’s the name I chose. The only name I know.” She lifted one trembling hand from the wall. Touched her chest. “That’s me, not K-Keira.”