The Remarkable Miss Frankenstein

Clair focused on the sorrow evident in his eyes. She understood from her research that werewolves were not immortal, but they lived for over a century. It was an intriguing thought, but a melancholy one as well: they knew more than a hundred years of joy and grief, of birthing babies and bidding friends farewell on the journey to the unknown.

Asher turned to Clair, carefully studying her reaction to his next words. 'Do you think that creatures of the night could be lonely?'

'I would say we are all prisoners of ourselves, loneliness being one of our worst jailors. If humans can shed tears, why not the supernatural? Yes, I imagine they know a great loneliness, perhaps more than any other.'

Asher lifted her chin with his pale hand. He stared into her eyes and gently bent down to kiss her lips. He kissed her tenderly, hiding the raging hunger filling his veins. The kiss stirred his dark soul, reaching into recesses he had long since thought shriveled up and dead from lack of warmth.

Her breath was the sweetest of scents, her taste a tantalizing hint of incredible delight. In the blink of the eye, Asher fell completely in love. Consequent with that love came knowledge. He would not make Clair immortal and risk the warm, generous essence of her human soul. She was too special to make into the chill undead. Although he doubted he could let her go completely. Perhaps if the Fates were kind they could be lovers. And Asher knew, with a smile, he would help Fate along in whatever manner he could.

Stepping back, Clair lifted her hand to her mouth in startlement. That kiss had been riveting. It was lucky she loved Ian, or else she might find herself involved with this attractive arrogant Wolf man of London.

Gently taking her hand from her mouth, Asher pressed a quick kiss to Clair's heated palm, wanting to do much more, when he heard the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps. Jerking his head upright, he scanned the darkness. 'Expect any minute to have a mad dog at your door,' he predicted in annoyance.

Clair glanced in the direction Asher indicated, seeing nothing really, just a slight movement of shadow. She turned back to Asher only to find him gone, vanished into the night like woodsmoke.

Before Clair had a chance to catch her breath, Ian appeared. He loped toward her, a fierce expression on his face.

'Bloody hell, Clair,' he roared. 'Have you lost your mind! You could have been ravished! You could have been…' He trailed off, unwilling to say what Asher could have done to her alone in the dark.

'Where the hell is the pompous bastard?' He scoured the area with an eagle eye. Espying no movement, Ian grabbed Clair's arms and began to shake her. His heart had stopped in his chest when Lady Mary told him where Clair had gone tonight and with whom. It was at that moment he'd realized how he loved Clair: with an intensity so bright it might burn his soul to ashes.

'Asher's gone. The earl left right before you got here. He heard you coming.' She was confused by Ian, by Asher, and by Asher's kiss. She loved Ian, this man whom she'd once thought was a vampire. She was attracted to Asher, a werewolf, pretending to be a man. It all had to be a huge cosmic joke. Whoever said love was easy was not seeing her life.

'Did my aunt tell on me?' she finally managed to spit out. 'Ian, stop shaking me. You're hurting me,' she chided sternly.

'Bloody hell! I'll do more than shake.' With ruthless intensity Ian crushed Clair to him, taking her mouth with a raw hunger that left her breathless. It was a greedy kiss that both aroused and ravished, and he tasted her deeply.

Briefly, he let her up for air. She inhaled sharply. Now that was a kiss to raise the dead. Quickly, she glanced around. No one was climbing out of his or her grave. Her mini-inspection done, she turned her attention back to the very angry man in front of her.

Ian was staring at her with raw male hunger. Her heart danced in her chest as she felt hot wetness between her legs. Before she could say a word, he began nipping at her neck, sending little flickers of fire up and down her spine. She sighed, a sound that apparently drove him wild. He bore her to the damp earth, which smelled of damp leaves and rich soil.

The passion flared hotter between the two lovers as they kissed, almost bursting them into flame. Clair felt as if she were being consumed. Her love for Ian fed the fires of this great desire. She wanted Ian in the way a woman wanted a man. She wanted to give Ian the greatest gift she could give him, besides her love. She wanted to gift him with her virginity.

Grabbing his shoulders, she arched her back as he bit and kissed her neck. She had never known her flesh was so sensitive to the touch of warm lips. Liquid fire was streaking down her veins, making her feel alive and loved. Moaning, she whispered his name, 'Ian. Oh, Ian.'

The sound of his name from her kiss-swollen lips sent Ian over the edge. Desire flared through him. Jerking her gown, he pulled it to her waist and tore off her fine lace drawers. He was beyond thinking. This was war. This was hunger. This was primitive, basic lust. He had to have her now, to place his mark on her for all time. She would belong to no one but him from today onward.

Her naked splendor unveiled to him, Ian growled at the sight of the golden triangle of curls between her shapely thighs, his carnal hunger burning away his sensibilities. Hands shaking, he touched her sweet, hot cleft, groaning at the wet dew there. Without the leisurely petting he had oft dreamed for this night, without the words of love he had once imagined he would speak, he unbuttoned his pants, shoved them halfway down and pushed her legs apart. He was wild with desire, his flesh so hard he literally ached with the force of his erection.

He rolled over on top of her, resting on his elbows as he moved into position. He wanted to be able to see her face at the moment of possession. Holding her head between his hands, he stared into her smoky eyes, eyes that were heavy-lidded with lust. How he loved this woman!

Clair moaned, arching beneath her true love, struggling to get closer, needing to be one with him. Her insides ached with want for this wild beautiful man who lay atop her, looking down at her with such need and tenderness in his eyes.

'Please, Ian…' Clair hesitated, unsure of what she needed to stop the fierce ache between her legs.

But Ian knew. With one push, he embedded himself within her, breaking through her maidenhead and seating himself to the hilt. It was the most primal feeling he had ever experienced. She was his! Let no man put them asunder. Let no man try. Let no vampire try. He would kill any or all that would attempt to steal this wondrous woman. She was now his. His future. His destiny.

Caught in such overwhelming feelings of pride, possession, and lust, he sensed tears in his eyes. Then he felt Clair quiver, a whimper escaping her. Feeling the beast, he lowered his head to hers.

'Forgive me, Clair. I meant to go slower. I know it hurts, my love. But give it a minute,' he gasped. She was the white to his black, the sun to his moon, and the youth to his aging responsibilities.

'God, Clair, how I love you,' he said. He felt her lush breasts against his chest, the nipples hard little circles. He felt the heat and tightness of her sheath, and he smelled the fresh scent of her woman's arousal and virgin's blood. He wanted to lick her there, taste her, and make her scream with ecstasy.

Dazed, Clair freed her hands from beneath his chest and, placing one on each cheek, she raised his head and gazed deeply into Ian's eyes. They were burning with a rawness she had never seen before, the green sparking like emerald fire. His jaw was tense, his neck corded. Tenderly, she kissed him on the lips.

'I love you too, Ian Huntsley,' she murmured. She arched against him, tears staining her cheeks, a bemused expression on her face. This was what she had dreamed of in the long-ago dreams of a foolish young girl: love, pure and simple and true.

With the damp, cool earth beneath her and the midnight velvet of the night above, the stars were her guide. Clair arched up against Ian. She had to feel him move within her secret core now that the pain had faded. Her body was throbbing—hot, aching with an intense desire she didn't understand but instinctively knew only Ian could satisfy. Her movement triggered something inside him as Ian began to plunge his hips wildly back and forth. His movements became more forceful as Clair lifted her hips to meet his in a dance of love as old and fierce as nature and time.

Suddenly, Clair felt a building of some momentous force within her. Deep purple filled her mind with flashes of white lightning. The feeling built… built… built until it burst forth with a brilliance that left her frozen and in awe. She screamed a cry against the night.

The sound fired Ian's own primitive response. He shouted as he thrust hard twice more and released his seed, claiming Clair as she held him in the cradle of her arms, clasping his head. With a lightened heart, he whispered words of love to her, some English, some in Welsh. His long days' journeys into lonely nights were now