He continued riding her, his thrusts slowing and adjusting to her spasms. Captured between her thighs, he moved in and out of her, prolonging the pleasure that coursed through his veins.

When he finally rolled off her, he heard her exhale next to him. He turned his body to face her, angling his elbow and resting his head on his palm.

Maybe they could repair what had gone wrong between them. What he’d just experienced with her had been perfect. He couldn’t just throw that away.

“Tell me what happened back then,” he said softly, stroking his knuckles along her neck.

She evaded his gaze. “We had an agreement. I’ll tell you once Blake is out of danger.”

At her refusal, his heart beat faster, but he wasn’t willing to give up trying. “Why not? Please tell me, Rose. After you got turned, why did you let me believe you were dead?”

Her mouth tightened. “It doesn’t matter.”

Quinn shot up to sit. “It matters to me. I loved you, Rose! I thought you felt the same back then.”

He stared at the empty fireplace, waiting for her answer, knowing what he wanted to hear: a confession of her love. Then whatever else she would tell him wouldn’t matter. Whatever reasons she’d had for never coming to see him, he would understand. If only she’d loved him. Even if she didn’t love him anymore. He could live with that. At least he would try.

“I told you I’ll explain everything later. But Blake is more important right now. He’s in danger and—”

He lifted a hand, stopping her. The knowledge that she was hiding something from him solidified in his stomach and formed tiny painful knots. “I understand,” he ground out. “You love Blake more than you ever loved me. I hope you two are gonna be very happy together.”

Catapulting from the bed, he snatched the towel from the floor.

“Where are you going?”

He didn’t turn but stalked to the door, wrapping the towel around his hips in the process. “Where do you think I’m going, Rose? To my room. We might be still married, but we’re not a couple anymore. We never truly were.”

The words almost choked his airways off and delivered a painful stab into his heart as if somebody were driving a knife into it. God, how much he’d wanted to have her in his arms, listen to her heartbeat as she slept, cradle her, feel her breath ghosting over his skin. And then, at sunset, wake up with her, feel her stir in his arms, her warm body molded to his, her sweet bottom tucked into his groin.

How many days had he dreamt of it? How many times had he wished for the impossible, for a life with Rose? And even now as he slammed the door shut behind him, he knew those dreams hadn’t died. He was irrevocably in love with Rose. For two hundred years he’d kept the love for her alive, and tonight, it had been reaffirmed. She was still his, the wife he’d claimed that fateful night, the woman he couldn’t forget. The one who’d spoiled him for all others.

His plan of purging his love for Rose had failed.

What was he supposed to do now?

12

Rose hated washing Quinn’s scent off, but she knew it was better that way. It was bad enough that her entire body ached pleasantly and that her sex still hummed with aftershocks from . . . well, she couldn’t exactly call it lovemaking. It hadn’t been that. It had been a coupling, a pleasant one, a passionate one. But what had followed had destroyed the moment and reminded her that they could never get back what they’d once had. So she had slammed the door to her heart shut again and bolted it.

Reluctantly, she dressed and poked her head out into the hallway. It was empty. And if she was lucky it would remain so for another hour, until sunset. She hadn’t had a chance to look around the mansion when she’d first entered. Quinn had explained that it was a Bed and Breakfast, and that Scanguards had exclusive use of it.

It was run by a fellow vampire, and according to Quinn, once the B&B was open for business, only vampires would be able to make reservations. Vampires would have to identify themselves with a code word, and all humans would be turned away, claiming there were no vacancies. That explained why the shutters were dark so they wouldn’t let any light in, and why the glass panes appeared to have a special UV coating to reduce the amount of light entering the rooms to a minimum. She assumed that even without the shutters closed, a vampire would be safe on a cloudy or foggy day, and from what she’d heard about San Francisco, there were many of those. Apparently the weather here was a bit like in good old London.

As she walked down the elaborately carved staircase, the plush carpet under her feet absorbed the sound of her steps. Good, she wouldn’t wake Quinn. The less she saw of him, the better. She hoped he would take his time with getting ready, because as soon as the sun was down, she needed to feed. And she hated it when anybody went with her on those hunting trips. She hated being watched as she turned into an animal, a predator. It disgusted her.