Summary: A slayer barters with a demon to rescue her lover, and finds herself unwittingly projected nearly three hundred years into the future with no memory of the life she left behind.
William sighed, casting a wary glance to the ominous storm clouds brewing above. He supposed it was fitting; the Powers had a way of expressing their sense of humor in ways which defined modern stereotypes. He reckoned he was in a cosmic time-out as far as the Powers were concerned; not that he cared a lick. Not that he ever had.
It was going to storm. If God or whatever lurked in the great beyond thought a little rain would scare him off, they were setting themselves up for disappointment. He wasn’t going home until he saw her. He wasn’t going anywhere until he knew she was all right. No amount of verbal confirmation would do it for him—not anymore. Now that he wasn’t trying to fool himself, now that he’d placed his heart on the proverbial chopping block, William was the embodiment of in for a penny, in for a pound.
Three nights ago, he’d sought Elizabeth Travers out with a mind aimed to kill.
Never had William thought he’d be so reluctant to harm anything. He’d been around for a while—not as old as some, but older than others. Old enough to be declared an ancient by most Watchers, even if his lifeline barely graced two centuries. He’d seen some remarkable things in his time: the first performance of a Shakespearean play, the defeat of the Spanish Armada, the rise of Peter the Great—things he’d never imagined seeing when he was sired. The world had become a larger place overnight. He was a poet from England and now he stood on American soil.
The years had certainly been good to him.
Very good.
And very lonely.
William propped himself against a tree, his eyes glued to the window he knew to be Elizabeth’s. There was a light burning inside but he had yet to catch a glimpse of her. A silhouette would do; anything to verify she’d made it back safely. Not that she’d faced anything particularly dangerous tonight—no more so than usual. There just seemed to be so much more at stake.
So much more.
More now that he knew he loved her.
William had long guessed it was symptomatic of not knowing the one who’d made him. He’d clawed his way out of his grave and met the cool air of night, knowing what he was but not why he’d been turned. He didn’t even remember the face of his sire—only the fragrance of a woman’s perfume and a quick rush of pain before meeting darkness. He’d spent decades begrudging his maker for leaving him without guidance, without reason or explanation, but time had proven grudges a fruitless effort. Grudges wouldn’t right old wrongs. Grudges wouldn’t do anything but make eternity even longer.
The years had been good to him, overall. Good but empty.
Then he got word of a slayer in the Americas, and curiosity more than anything had prompted him to cross an ocean.
Now that he was here, he never wanted to return.
Elizabeth was magnificent.
William had heard many stories about many slayers, each more ludicrous than the last. For years he’d brushed them off as nothing more than a celestial bogeyman to keep the demon community in line. For years he’d laughed at the idea of a delicate female posing any threat to the life of any vampire, concluding that those who dusted at the Slayer’s hand were more in awe of her Calling than bested by her aim. For years he’d formed presumptions based on aged ideals of the frailty of the human condition.
For years he’d been wrong.
He was certain, however, no matter the strength of any slayer that he would not have fallen so hard for any woman who wasn’t Elizabeth. The girl defied convention. She was everything he’d ever wanted; everything he was afraid to want.
She was so glorious. So radiant. So strong and courageous.
So alone.
William had thought his existence lonely. He didn’t know loneliness until he met Elizabeth. She walked through darkness with nothing at her side. She relied strictly on her own cunning to ensure she made it through the night. She was often afraid but never revealed her weakness. She didn’t cry when she was owed her tears.
She was innocent. She was innocent in ways he didn’t think were possible anymore. She had a child’s laugh and a warrior’s will. She didn’t know how beautiful she was. She didn’t know how alluring she was. She didn’t see the way the men in town looked at her like she was the pinnacle of everything they could ever want. She didn’t notice anything which heightened the reality of her humanity. And while the reason wasn’t ambiguous, it made him darken with rage all the same.
Her wanker of a Watcher regarded her as less than human. To Kenneth Travers, Elizabeth wasn’t a girl at all. She was a weapon.
She was disposable.
There was nothing disposable about Elizabeth Travers. God, he’d known it the second he saw her. Fighting under the pale light of a full moon, her skin drenched in sweat, her body contorting to kick the vampire behind her as her hands thrust a stake through the heart of the vampire at her head. A third had lurked in the shadows, intent on surprising her, but he exploded into a thousand gold flecks of dust before he had the chance to lunge into her warpath. Elizabeth had fought them all with grace, not once betraying fear or alarm. Her senses were impeccable, her instincts flawless. She’d finished them off one-by-one, turned to face William even if she couldn’t see him for the trees and the darkness separating them, and waved.
She’d waved at him.
And he’d fallen. Hard.
Granted, it took a bloody long time to admit as much. William had fought loving her with everything he had. He might not be the world’s most conventional vampire, but he drew the line at going soft for humans. For slayers. While true, the Slayer had never sent cold shivers down his spine, he’d never envisioned himself going so far the other way as to fall over himself in love.
He’d occupied months fighting Elizabeth—fighting his growing feelings for her. Fighting his admiration with what he tried to call loathing. Even when he beat her within an inch of her life, she refused to beg for mercy. He’d gotten close to killing her so many times. He’d wanted it—no, he’d wanted to want it. He made himself lash out at her in the hopes of eradicating her presence from his dreams. In hopes of beating back the love in his heart into something twisted and dark—something he could truly call hate.
Three nights ago he’d had enough. Three nights ago he’d been determined to end it—either Elizabeth had to go or he did.
Instead he’d tasted her blood, and surrendered.
God, how could he help from loving her? He might not be human, but he was still a man. And Elizabeth was the closest to perfection he’d ever come. She was witty, funny, strong, and beautiful; she was her own woman without even trying to be. She wasn’t afraid to fight with him, knowing him as she did. Nor was she afraid of the dance.
She wasn’t afraid of anything.
And he was sick of trying to fool himself.
He was in love. He’d known it since the first night he saw her, but there was nothing like confessing it to himself.
William the Bloody was in love with the Slayer.
And anyone who tried to take her from him would find themselves on the wrong side of dead.
“What are you doing here?”
William blinked and turned, belatedly overwhelmed with the richness of her heavenly scent. He met her emerald eyes and was surprised when a shiver commanded his body. There was something so wondrously perfect about her—something which commanded adulation whenever in her presence.
Now that he wasn’t fighting his love for her, he’d spend the rest of her life and all of his worshipping the ground she walked on.
When William did love, he did it with all he was. There was no half-and-half. No in between.
Not that he had much experience with love; he just knew himself.
Something Elizabeth would know in due time.
“How’d you do that?” he asked, pouting.
She blinked innocently, then crossed her arms as though to hide her reaction to his proximity. His sweet, innocent slayer. There was no hiding from him—not now. Not now that he’d tasted every forbidden crevice of her soft, perfect body. Not now that he’d explored the paradise between her thighs. Not now when he knew how she whimpered when he stroked her, and how her tight pussy muscles squeezed him when she climaxed.
No, there was no hiding from him, if there ever had been.
“How did I do what?” she asked, shifting her weight from one leg to the other.
“Sneak up on me.”
“I didn’t sneak. I was just—”
“Overly quiet?” He’d been too lost in his thoughts to notice her approach, but he didn’t want to tell her that. Especially when caught lurking outside her cottage while drowning in longing for her. “You jus’ getting in?”
She nodded and licked her lips. He wished she’d let him do that for her. “Kenneth sent me to the Mill Lane House. Mr. Wells had a demon caught in his armoire.”
“Demon?” William took a step forward, determined to close the space between them but mindful not to move so fast he startled her. “What sort of demon?”
She hesitated a beat, and he knew why. The knowledge killed him but he knew why. They had parted the other night on uncertain terms—Elizabeth limping slightly as a result of their passion, but quite adamant on managing her way home unaided. There hadn’t been time to talk about what had happened, or how things had changed. Perhaps she didn’t think things had changed.
Perhaps she thought they were going to resume the relationship they’d grown into prior to their lovemaking. Perhaps she thought he wanted her dead, as he’d claimed only nights before.
Silly child. Didn’t she know he was crazy for her? Didn’t she know that had been the problem all along?
“Talk to me, Liz,” William murmured, seizing advantage of the distraction his voice provided and closing another space between them. “What sort of demon?”
“A boggart.” Her gorgeous eyes grew wide but she made no move to recover the step he’d claimed. “Will…”
Elizabeth inhaled sharply, suspicion clouding her eyes. “I don’t think that would have been a wise move,” she said, tossing a quick glance to the front door of the Travers cottage. “I need to go. Kenneth is expecting me.”
Before he could stop himself, he’d wrapped a hand around her wrist and tugged her forward, desperate for the feel of her against him. “Don’t,” he pleaded softly. “Stay out here with me.”
“I don’t—”
“Dangerous vampire here. Kenneth wouldn’t want you neglecting your duties, would he?”
Elizabeth’s gaze softened with longing, and the wave of relief which crashed over his chest was potent enough to flood the bloody village. “What are we doing, Will?” she asked softly, her tone dropping with gravity he’d never before heard color her voice. The idea that he’d put such conflict in her life tore him in two, but he wasn’t about to let her go without a fight. “I…the other night—”
“Was jus’ the bloody beginning, love.”
“The beginning of what?” She shook her head hard, her eyes suddenly shining with tears. “I’m so confused. What we…what we did the other night…it—”
“You don’t regret it, do you?” God, he wouldn’t be able to stand himself if she regretted what they’d done together. The beauty their bodies had created simply by joining. She couldn’t regret it. She couldn’t. She’d changed him—changed everything—and if she regretted it, he didn’t know what he’d do with himself. “Please, Liz—”
She shook her head again, but the tears spilling down her cheeks spoke volumes for what she couldn’t put into words. And he was at a loss. A vast, endless loss. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and will the world away. He wanted to toss her over his shoulder and make a bloody run for it. Sod the Watcher. Sod her duties. Sod it all; he was the one who truly loved her. She should be with him, not the wanker who sent her out to face ugly death every night.
She belonged to him.
“I do not regret what we did,” Elizabeth whispered. “But Will…I don’t…we can’t again. It’s too dangerous.”
“Making love with me is too dangerous?”
It was a bloody stupid question; of course it was dangerous. A slayer entrusting a vampire with her body. He was a fool to ask.
Her answer, however, threw him off his feet. “If Kenneth finds out…he’ll kill you.”
William froze and the world froze with him. For long, empty seconds he could do nothing but stare at her in astonishment. She was worried about him. Elizabeth was worried about him. About what would happen if her Watcher discovered what was happening right under his nose—if he found out that his slayer had thrown her hat in with the enemy. The idea that any human could ever best him was beyond ridiculous, let alone an aging sod who lacked the strength or the will to fight beyond sending a young girl out to face the night’s dangers alone. Elizabeth was worried for him—about him. She was worried.
He’d never had anyone worry about him before. Never.
God.
“He won’ kill me, darling,” William promised softly. “He doesn’—”
“No, William…you don’t know him. If he ever found out, he’d—”
“He won’ find out.”
“But if he did—”
“He won’t.”
She shook her head, her tears coming harder. “He’d kill you.”
“He would try.” William turned his attention to her gorgeous mouth, unable to keep his lips to himself a minute longer. He needed to taste her kiss. He needed to feel her body against his, rocking against him, squeezing his cock until he saw stars. He needed her hands on him and her mouth on his skin. He needed her, plain and simple. He needed her like he’d needed nothing. “He would try, but he—”
“You don’t know him, Will.”
“I don’ need to.”
“He—”
William kissed her again, his touch hungry and demanding this time, tongue shoving past her lips to explore the hidden secrets of her mouth. It seemed forever had passed since he’d last tasted her and he wasn’t going to deny himself a minute longer. Not when she was here. Not when she cared for him. Not when she cried tears over the thought of his death, ridiculous as the notion was.
Elizabeth cared for him. She truly did. Even if the words never breathed life in her sweet voice, he had proof enough in the liquid crystals trailing down her cheeks. She cared.
God, he was so completely hers.
“Please,” William whispered against her mouth. “Please…fight with me a bit.”
She batted her pretty eyes in confusion, her succulent tongue peeking out to taste him on her lips. “Fight?” she repeated, her hips moving against his erection in a manner he knew had to be subconscious. “You want to fight?”
He couldn’t help it; he grinned. She was so cute. So innocent.
And likewise, she was completely his.
“Oh yeah,” he purred, nipping at her lips. “All night long.”
“But Kenneth—”
“You’ll have bruises enough to prove to him you were tied up by a particularly nasty beast.” William grinned devilishly, squeezing her tighter to him and thrusting his hips forward. He loved the wanton widening of her eyes—the comprehension born there; the comprehension coinciding with the secrets she now possessed. She now knew what her body was capable of, just as she knew his. She knew what they were capable of together.
And that was just in the bedroom. She had no idea of the world waiting at her doorstep. The world he’d show her once he managed to sever her ties with the Watcher for good.
Once William made her realize all she needed, truly, was a man who loved her like he did.
“I want you,” he whispered. “I want you like I’ve never wanted anyone. I always have.”
Tears were forming behind her gorgeous eyes again, but this time, they were not out of fear. “Always?”
“Since the firs’ moment I saw you. I’ve been fightin’ it forever. Tryin’ to convince myself you hadn’t turned my bloody life upside down.” His head dipped, tongue eagerly laving the mark he’d given her with his fangs. The one he was itching to make permanent. He wanted her at his side for all time; not just in the limited span humans were given on this wretched planet. No, he wanted her cemented at his side. Free of her Calling. Free of everything which held her prisoner. He wanted to make her his. He wanted to make her his always.
“Have you wanted me like I’ve wanted you?” William asked softly, his mouth fluttering over her throat, dropping sweet kisses as he made his way back to her lips. “Wanted me like this?”
She hesitated. “I didn’t know what it meant to want anyone before you.” Her tone indicated an apology. As though her innocence was something of which to be ashamed.
The idea, however, that she’d never wanted anyone before him had him soaring. She didn’t know what a gift her desire was; how it felt to be the first man she’d ever touched, or would ever touch. She didn’t know how precious she was. What a rarity she was.
She didn’t know her own worth, and the knowledge nearly made him weep.
“Do you want me now?” he whispered. He knew the answer, of course; he just needed to hear it.
Elizabeth inhaled sharply and nodded, another wave of tears striking her gorgeous face. “Will…”
“Then have me, sweetheart. I’m right here.”
His lips found hers again and he rejoiced when she didn’t fight him. Instead, she whimpered against him and surrendered, her arms linking behind his neck, his own wrapped themselves around her waist. Her tongue pushed inside his mouth, eagerly stroking his as her body molded against him. The warmth of her surrender had him swimming in bliss.
There was nothing in the world like this. He’d settle for nothing less.
Elizabeth was the only one for him.
“It’s going to rain,” Elizabeth observed, her eyes wandering heavenward.
“Better get inside.”
“No.” She brushed a tender kiss across the corner of his mouth. “Will you dance with me?”
“In the rain?”
She nodded and he about collapsed to his knees in awe. She was unlike anyone he’d ever known. He’d never met a woman, human or vampire, who didn’t wilt at the idea of getting wet. Anyone. She was unique and courageous, witty and beautiful, and she was his.
Elizabeth was perfection. And she was his. Pure and simple.
“Sweetheart, I’ll dance with you wherever you like.”
She smiled softly, tossing a wary glance to the cottage behind them. “He’ll be expecting me.”
“Evil vampire,” William countered. “Right here. You can’t let me go, can you?”
A fond smile crossed her lips and she shook her head. “Never.”
Never was a promise he’d make her keep—for now, forever. She was his. She was completely his. She’d been alone for so long, but she wasn’t alone anymore. Neither was he.