The Burning by Susan Squires Read Free Book Online

crime of trying to take over the world through Napoleon when Beatrix asked it of him. But he had exiled Asharti inadvertently to the one place she could get the power she craved. That was his crime. During her exile, she had made an army of vampires and taken over North Africa. It was by luck alone that she was stopped before she could rule the world and turn humans into cattle, bred for their blood.
    Now, perhaps, he could atone for his crimes. He hadtrained to become Rubius’s killer, And he would kill Asharti’s leavings if he could. He might die. He did not care except that then his failure would leave the world infected with made vampires making other vampires, until there were no humans left to slake a vampire’s thirst. But if he accomplished his task, then . . .
    A woman’s scream cut the night. It came from nearby. He knew what might provoke such a scream. Stephan slid quickly through the trees toward the sound.
    It was still nearly a mile up to her cave. Ann moved quietly through the darkness. This part of the path wound up behind the village. The lights of the tavern were directly below her. She was never afraid, alone at night in the woods. Not anymore. The townspeople gave her a wide berth. There were no wolves this far south, and the scurry of small creatures did not frighten her. She had far more to be frightened of than a rabbit or a roebuck.
    So she hardly noticed the stealthy rustle in the bushes beside the path until, coming round a corner, she was on them. She stopped stock-still. A figure in a rough peasant skirt and blouse lay sprawled on the wet leaf floor of the forest. It was a woman, her breast white and shuddering with hardly won breath. A figure crouched over her, his face nuzzled in her neck, a man by the bulk of him. For a split second Ann thought she was witnessing a lover’s tryst, but something about the woman’s staring eyes and the way her limbs were all askew told of something far less natural afoot.
    The man lifted his head.
    Ann gasped. The man’s eyes glowed . . . red. It was not reflected light, for where was the source on such a dark night? He had red eyes and his canines were elongated. His mouth dripped with darkness. Ann recognized the smell of blood. She put her hand to her mouth.
    The man lunged up, straight at her. Ann screamed. She couldn’t let such a creature touch her! Fear washed over her. She turned and ran, feeling him reach out for her. She picked up her skirts and tore down the path, praying to God she would not fall. She could hear him behind her, feel his breath. It was as if he trembled in the air around her, vibrating in her chest along with her fear. She heard a growl and a heavy thud. A tree root grabbed her foot. She went down, turning in her fall to face the expected attacker.
    There was no one there. But some way behind her, two men rose from the forest floor facing each other in a crouch, half attack, half defense. One was the man she had seen. His eyes were no longer red. No canines showed as he drew back his lips in a snarl. His skin was pale, his hair a light, straight brown. He was lean. The muscles on his forearms revealed by his rolled shirtsleeves were stringy. But he was still a monster. He hissed at his opponent.
    Where had that one come from? He must have tackled the monster who pursued her. The man straightened and she saw that he was big, his shoulders broad, his hair a dark mass curling to his shoulders. Well dressed. His eyes looked black in the darkness. At least they were not red. Some part of her realized that he was handsome, perhaps classically so at first glance, but then one had to reevaluate. His cheekbones were high. His nose was a little prominent beneath a broad forehead, his lips . . . Ahhh, lips said so much about a man. These were full, but drawn down in a grim line. The commas etched around them made him look hard. Those deep lines kept his face from being the kind you would see upon a statue. All this was an impression in a