The heavy oak door to Alistair's room clicked shut behind them, the sound echoing softly in the dimly lit chamber.
Moonlight filtered through the tall arched windows, casting silver patterns across the antique rugs and the large four-poster bed that dominated the space.
Alistair moved with his usual calm grace, his hand lingering at the small of Eleanor's back as he guided her inside.
She turned to him, her crimson eyes glowing faintly with that familiar hunger….both for him and for the blood that coursed beneath his skin.
They stood close, the air between them thick with unspoken need.
Eleanor reached up first, her cool fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "I've been patient enough for a long time," she murmured, her voice low and velvety, a hint of playful challenge in it. " But now I can feel how much I want this...and how much you want me."
