Rhianna woke slowly, a wondrous sense of well-being rising up within her when she opened her eyes and saw Rayven lying beside her. Once, the sight of him lying there, as still as death, had frightened her a little. But no more. He was not dead, only sleeping.

A smile warmed her heart as, ever so tenderly, she trailed her fingertips across his cheek, then bent and brushed his lips with hers. He was here, and that was all that mattered.

She studied him for a long pleasurable time, the sight of him filling her with inexpressible joy. She smoothed a lock of raven-hued hair from his forehead, traced the straight line of his brows, let her fingertip follow the faint white scar on his cheek.

He didn't stir, yet, in her heart, she knew he was aware of her touch, her presence.

"Sleep well, my lord husband," she whispered.

Rising, she pulled a robe over her gown and left the room, pausing to lock the outer door before she left the tower.

She found Bevins downstairs, sitting at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of tea.

"Milady!" Startled at being caught unaware, Bevins lurched to his feet. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were up. Shall I draw your bath?"

"Later. Please, sit down, Bevins. Do you mind if I join you?"

Bevins frowned. "It's not fitting, milady."

"Oh." Shoulders drooping, she turned away.

"Milady, wait!" Bevins pulled out a chair. "Please, join me. Would you care for a cup of tea? Some scones, perhaps?"

"Yes, thank you." She smiled as he poured her a cup of tea, added milk and sugar. "Tell me, Bevins, is all this formality between us really necessary?"

"I beg your pardon, milady?"

"Can't you just call me Rhianna?"

"I'm afraid it wouldn't be proper," Bevins replied, taking a seat across from her. "Lord Rayven..." He picked up his cup and stared into the contents. "I'm very much afraid he would not like it."

"Maybe you could call me Rhianna when we're alone."

"I think not, milady."

"All right, Tom. I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable."

Rhianna finished her tea, then stood up. "Would you mind drawing my bath?"

"My pleasure, milady. Will you be wanting breakfast later?"

"Yes, thank you."

Later that day, Rhianna asked Bevins to take her to see her mother.

Ada met them at the door of the cottage. "Rhianna, how well you look," she said. She gave Rhianna a hug, smiled warmly at Bevins. "Come in, come in."

Rhianna looked at Bevins and frowned, mystified by her mother's lighthearted mood.

Ada led them into the parlor. "Sit down, both of you. Can I get you something to drink? Some lemonade, perhaps, or a cup of tea?"

"Lemonade would be nice, Mama. Where are the girls?"

"They've gone into the village to visit with Aileen. They'll be sorry they missed you. Mr. Bevins, can I get you something to drink?"

"Yes, thank you, Mistress McLeod. Lemonade would be fine."

"Can I help you, Mama?" Rhianna asked.

"No, daughter. It won't take but a minute."

Rhianna looked at Bevins and shook her head. "I thought she would be upset."

Bevins nodded. It was obvious that something strange was going on. And whenever there were strange happenings, Lord Rayven was usually behind them.

They spent an hour with Ada, chatting about the weather, Aileen's pregnancy, Lanna's new beau. Ada asked after Rayven, expressing her regret that he had been unable to accompany Rhianna, urging her to bring him along next time.

"I don't understand it," Rhianna remarked to Tom as they left for home. "She's never made any secret of the fact that she dislikes Rayven. What do you make of it?"

"I'm not sure, milady," Bevins replied. "Perhaps Lord Rayven will know."

"Why would he know?"

"Perhaps you should ask him."

"You've being very evasive, Tom."

"Yes, milady."

"What aren't you telling me?"

A pained expression crossed the man's face. "Milady, please."

"Oh, very well," Rhianna muttered, and then she cast Tom a sharp look. "He's done something to her, hasn't he?"

Bevins blew out a deep breath. "He has the power, milady."

"The power to do what?"

"I think perhaps Lord Rayven has erased certain things from your mother's memory."

Rhianna sat back, a little stunned. "He can do that?"

Bevins nodded. "Please don't tell him that I told you."

"I won't. Does he do that kind of thing often?"

"I'm sure I couldn't say, milady."

Rhianna sat back, lost in thought, until they reached home.

She changed into a dark green velvet gown for supper. It was one of her favorite frocks, with its deep vee neck and flared sleeves edged with Irish lace. The skirt was soft and full and swayed gracefully when she moved.

Going down to her own room, she stood in front of the mirror, studying her reflection. Her eyes sparkled in anticipation of seeing her husband, her cheeks rosy with a blush of excitement. She had left her hair unbound because Rayven had once said he preferred it that way.

Turning away from the looking glass, she hurried out of her room and up the tower stairs. He would be awakening in a moment, and she wanted to be there.

She fairly flew into his room. He was still asleep. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she took his hand in hers.

Her heartbeat quickened as the sun went down and she felt the life force flow through him, strong and sure as a river at flood tide. A moment later, his eyelids fluttered open.

Rhianna smiled at him. "Good evening, my lord husband," she murmured softly, and bent down to kiss him.

His hand curled around her nape, drawing her closer as he deepened the kiss. With a sigh, Rhianna melted against him, her hands sliding over his bare chest, down his belly, moving ever so slowly downward.

He gasped as her hand stroked him and then, without her quite knowing how he had managed it so quickly, she was lying naked beneath him, the sheets cool beneath her, his breath warm where it fanned her cheek.

"Rhianna... Rhianna..." He repeated her name over and over again, unable to stop, unable to resist the urge to bury himself deep within her silken flesh, to make her his. The scent of her blood called to him, igniting his hunger.

She moaned softly, her hands moving restlessly over his back and shoulders as he moved within her. She felt his lips caress her breasts, and then she felt the sharp prick of his teeth at her throat.

She experienced a rush of sensual pleasure and then, when he didn't stop, but drank and drank again, she went cold with fear.

"Rayven..."

"Rhianna, tell me to stop!"

He stared down at her, seeing her through a hazy red mist as hunger and desire melded into one, roaring through him like a raging inferno, threatening to devour everything in its path.

Rhianna looked back at him, helpless, vulnerable. His eyes, as black as midnight, burned into hers and she knew, in that moment, that she was looking death in the face.

"Rhianna!"

She heard the fear in his voice, the underlying pain as the hunger raged within him, threatening to consume them both. Fear for her own life receded in the face of his agony.

"Rhianna... help me!" He was breathing heavily now, terrified that the hunger would overcome him and that he would destroy her.

"I love you." She whispered the words over and over again, knowing she had never meant them more.

Knowing he had never needed to hear them, to believe them, more than he did now.

With a hoarse cry, he pushed her from him, grabbed his cloak, and bolted from the room.

"Rayven!"

The sound of her voice followed him down the stairs, out of the castle. He paused to drape his cloak around his shoulders, and then he was running, faster than mortal eyes could see, running away from the only woman he had ever loved, from the scent of her blood, from the trust in her eyes.

"Fool!" He screamed the word into the wind that chased him through the night. "Fool!"

A fool to think he could have her, that he could take her blood, give her his in return, and forever deny what he was. What idiocy, to think he could live like a mortal man, that he could keep the hunger forever at bay. He was not a man, had not been a man for over four hundred years. He was a vampyre, and all the wishing in the world could not change that.

He knew now what he had to do. There was only one way to keep Rhianna safe from the monster. Only one way to protect her from what he was. He would rise early tomorrow night. He would feed well so that Rhianna's sweetness would not tempt him. He would erase his memory from her mind, and then he would go out to meet the sun. With nothing left to live for, he would welcome death.

He sought shelter in a cave cut deep into the side of Devil Tree Mountain. Shrouded in his cloak, he stared at nothingness. At dusk, he would seek out Rhianna. He would spend one last night in her presence, hold her in his arms one last time and then, while she slept, he would blot his memory from her mind. Montroy would provide her with all the comforts money could buy. He would cherish her and love her; in time, he would give her a child. The thought of Montroy caressing Rhianna sent a hot shaft of pain searing through his heart. But it was the only way to ensure that he did not destroy her. He no longer trusted himself to keep her safe, no longer believed himself strong enough to keep from forcing the Dark Gift upon her.

With the coming of dawn, he curled up on the damp earth, drew his cloak over his head, and waited for the darkness to overtake him one last time.

"Salvatore," he murmured as he slipped over the edge, "how did you survive so long without going mad?"

He woke an hour after the setting of the sun and knew immediately that he wasn't alone in the cave.

"I had not thought you to be a late riser."

The voice, so long unheard, so familiar, drifted over him. "Salvatore? Is that you?"

Soft laughter filled the cave. "Rayven, my friend, it has been too long."

Rayven sat up and drew his cloak over his nakedness. He could see the other vampyre now, leaning negligently against the wall of the cave, his arms crossed over his chest. "What brings you here?"

"You, of course. What else would bring me to this dreary place?"

"I don't understand."

"You called for me, did you not?"

Rayven frowned, then nodded.

"I would have been here sooner, but..." Salvatore shrugged emphatically. "I had been at rest when I heard your call." He smiled. "You understand, it took me some time to replenish my strength."

Rayven nodded. It was the way of the Old Ones, to go to ground every hundred years or so.

"So, my friend, tell me what it is that troubles you."

In short crisp sentences, Rayven told Salvatore about Rhianna, about his fears for her safety, the growing need to make her what he was, the sure knowledge that she would hate him for it.

"It is no longer safe for her to be with me." He turned tormented eyes on his friend. "And I have no desire to go on without her."

"So you intend to destroy yourself?"

"It is the only way."

"No," Salvatore replied softly. "There is another."

"Tell me!"

"You wish to renounce the Dark Gift, to be mortal again?"

Mortal again. Was it possible? Did he really want it? Would she still love him if he was mortal? He knew the allure of his vampyre blood, the underlying power that colored everything he did and said. "Is it possible?"

"If you truly wish it."

He thought of life without her, and then let himself think what it would be like to share her life, her whole life, each day, every day. "How? How is it done?"

"It is dangerous, my friend, and often fatal."

"It is a risk I am willing to take."

"You truly wish to give up your immortality for this woman?"

Rayven nodded. "Please, Salvatore, only tell me what I must do."

"First I would like to meet this woman."

"Salvatore..."

"It cannot be done now, my friend. We have time."

Rhianna ran down the stairs to meet him. Throwing herself into his arms, she held him close, oblivious to the presence of the other man.

"Where did you go? Where have you been? I've been so worried."

"I am fine, my sweet," Rayven assured her. He glanced over his shoulder at Salvatore. "Please, make yourself comfortable while I dress."

"Forgive me," Rhianna said, staring at the man standing in the shadows of the entryway. "I didn't see you there."

Salvatore bowed in her direction. "My lady."

"Rhianna, this is Salvatore. You remember I told you about him?"

She nodded, a sudden shiver rippling down her spine. Salvatore. Rayven had told her he was a vampyre, a very old, very powerful vampyre.

A faint smile played over Salvatore's lips. "Does my being here disturb you, my lady?"

"No." It was a lie, and they all knew it.

"Come with me, Rhianna," Rayven said. "Salvatore, we won't be long."

Rhianna followed her husband upstairs, a thousand questions chasing themselves through her mind.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, watching Rayven while he dressed. "Why is he here?"

"I need him." He dressed quickly, then knelt at her feet and took her hands in his. "Rhianna, would you love me as you do now if I were a mortal man?"

"What do you mean?"

"If I could be human again, would you still love me, still want to spend your life with me?"

"Of course." She frowned at him. "Why wouldn't I?"

"There's a certain intangible power inherent in vampyres. You may not be aware of it, but it's there.

Some women are attracted by the power, but not the man himself."

"Rayven, what are you trying to say?"

"Salvatore told me there is a way for me to become mortal again."

She stared at him a moment, then threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. "That's wonderful!

How is it done?"

"I don't know." He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her gently, felt the hunger stir to life. "Let's go find out."

"It is surprisingly simple, really," Salvatore said. "A few words, the shedding of blood..." His dark brown eyes bored into Rayven. "Faith that it will work."

"It sounds too easy."

"That's where faith comes in, my friend."

"We must do it now, tonight," Rayven said. He couldn't wait any longer. He didn't know why the hunger was riding him so hard. Was it because he had given Rhianna his blood? He had thought, after four hundred years, that he controlled the hunger, but he knew now it had never been true. The hunger would always be his master. It might rest, it might be appeased, but it would never be conquered.

"It must be done in a church as close to the rising of the sun as possible," Salvatore said.

Rayven nodded, though he could not help thinking a graveyard would be a more appropriate place to hold a ritual for the undead.

Salvatore placed his hand on Rayven's shoulder. "There are preparations I must make. Meet me in the chapel an hour before sunrise." He glanced at Rhianna. "You must come alone."

"No," Rhianna said. "I want to be there."

"I'm sorry, my lady, but no mortal may be present."

"But..."

"You might wish to spend these hours together."

"Last hours is what you mean, isn't it?"

"It is a possibility, my lady." Salvatore put his hand on her shoulder in a gesture of sympathy and affection, then looked at Rayven. "In the last hour before dawn, my friend. Do not be late."

"I'll be there."

Rhianna waited until they were alone, then she took Rayven's hand in both of hers. "Don't do this."

"I must."

"No. Make me what you are. Do it now."

"No, Rhianna. You don't want it, and you would hate me for it."

"Then let us go on as we are. Please, Rayven, I'm so afraid."

"We cannot go on as we are," Rayven said, the certainly building within him. "I cannot control the hunger any longer." Even now he could feel it swelling, building, surging within him, urging him to take her in his dark embrace, to drink her sweetness until he was glutted with it. He felt the beast writhing deep inside, felt its claws as it struggled for freedom.

"I won't let you do it," Rhianna said. "He said it was dangerous."

"You are the one in danger, Rhianna."

She stared up at him, at eyes that glowed with a hellish light. "I don't understand. What's done this to you?"

"This is what I am, Rhianna, what I have always been. I cannot fight it any longer."

"Rayven..."

He lifted her hand, brushed his lips across her palm. He had hoped to make love to her, but he dared not take the chance. The hunger was always aroused by passion.

"Find Bevins," he said, his voice gruff. "Stay with him. He will keep you safe."

"No. Please let me stay with you until it's time."

"Go, Rhianna. I beg of you, if you love me at all, leave me now."

"I do love you. I'll always love you," she cried.

"Go then. Please, Rhianna."

Hating herself for her cowardice, afraid of what might happen if she defied him, she ran out of the room.

Salvatore was waiting for him inside the chapel. He wore a long hooded cloak of dark blue wool. He held a small wooden cup in his hands.

"You must trust me in this," Salvatore said. "Any doubt on your part will be fatal."

Rayven nodded.

"Drink this, all of it."

"What is it?"

"An ancient mixture composed of a little garlic, a little foxglove, a smidgen of mugwort, the dried petals of a white rose, yarrow and lavendar, a sprinkling of wolfsbane. And just enough red wine to make it palatable."

"You expect me to drink that?"

Salvatore nodded, his expression solemn.

Rayven took the cup, sniffed it, wrinkled his nose with distaste, and drank the contents down in one long swallow. "Is that it?"

"It is only the beginning. The potion is to purify your blood. Now comes the hard part. Remove your shirt, then lie down on the altar."

Heart pounding, Rayven did as bidden. The altar, of white marble, was cold beneath him. The words, as cold as the grave, hovered in the back of his mind.

With a blink of his eye, Salvatore lit every candle within the church. A faint rosy glow filled the room.

Moonlight streamed through the stained-glass window over the altar, casting crimson highlights over Rayven's naked arms and chest.

Salvatore stood at the head of the altar. "You are sure this is what you wish to do?"

"Yes. No, wait!" Rayven sat up, his hands clutching Salvatore's robe. "I must see Rhianna, wipe my memory from her mind."

"If this succeeds, that will not be necessary. If it fails, I will see that she remembers nothing of you or this night."

With a nod, Rayven stretched out on the altar once more.

Reaching into the folds of his cloak, Salvatore withdrew a slender dagger. The hilt was made of wood, the solid silver blade gleamed in the flickering light of the candles.

Rayven stared at the dagger. "A blood sacrifice, old friend?"

"Of a sort. How do you feel?"

"Weak."

"It is the herbs. They are cleansing your blood."

Rayven stared at the knife, unable to take his gaze from the shimmering silver blade. Silver. Deadly to vampyres. A tremor of unease slithered down his spine. "You are going to cut me?"

"This is where your faith comes in. When the time is right, I am going to bleed you to the point of death, and then I am going to give your life, true life, back to you."

Rayven shook his head. He tried to rise, but his limbs felt heavy, weighted. "No..."

"You must trust me, my friend. The herbs are the first step. They will neutralize the vampyric agent in your blood and allow you to withstand the coming of dawn."

"You mentioned faith..."

"Indeed. If, deep in your heart, you truly wish to give up your immortality, you will rise with the dawn, a mortal man in every way. If there is any doubt, the sun will destroy you."

Questions flooded his mind, but he lacked the power to voice them aloud. His body was numb; he couldn't keep his eyes open. His blood slowed, feeling hot and heavy in his veins.

"Relax." Salvatore's voice. It seemed to come from a great distance.

He felt a sudden, sharp pain in his left wrist and knew that Salvatore had slit a vein. He could feel his life's blood flowing out of him, could hear the beat of his heart, beating fast in fear, slowing as more and more blood was drained from his body.

Rhianna...

Salvatore held a wooden cup to Rayven's lips, forced him to drink. He knew it was blood, his own blood, but it tasted like cool clear water. He drained the cup again and again, until nothingness overwhelmed him, smothering him in cloud-like layers of brilliant white light. He had expected to feel the fires of Hell, to be lost in darkness. The light burned his eyes and seared his soul.

This is what it feels like to be reborn,he thought. Rhianna...

Rhianna paced the floor, her gaze going to the door again and again. She looked at Bevins, but he only shook his head. And then she heard Rayven's voice calling her name. His voice, growing faint until it was gone.

With a cry, she ran out of the castle, down the path toward the chapel.

Sunlight fell over the building, limning it with silver and gold, turning it into a faerie place.

She came to an abrupt halt, fear making her heart pound and her mouth dry. She took a step forward, and then another. The door was open. Sunlight filtered through the stained-glass window, shining down on the body which lay, unmoving, on the altar. Streaks of red stained the white marble.

"Rayven..." His name whispered past her lips. "Oh, no..."

She didn't remember moving, but suddenly she was there, at his side. Her gaze skimmed his body. There was blood on the altar. It had to be his blood, but she could find no wound.

Lifting a shaking hand, she placed it on his chest. His skin was smooth and cool. She could detect no heartbeat.

"Rayven! You promised you wouldn't leave me. You promised!"

She rested her head on his chest, tears burning her eyes. "You promised."

She wept, her tears falling on his chest, mingling with the blood on the altar. "Please don't leave me."

"Rhianna..."

His voice, echoing in her mind. But no, it was real. Slowly, she lifted her head, opened her eyes.

"Rayven? You're alive!"

"So it would seem." He knew instantly that his powers were gone. Colors were less bright. He could hear nothing beyond the walls of the chapel. He took a deep breath, and his nostrils filled with the scent of candle wax and dew-damp grass and Rhianna's perfume. No trace of blood stirred his senses. The beat of her heart didn't thunder in his ears.

He sat up slowly. He felt strangely light, peaceful. And then he smiled. The hunger was gone. For the first time in over four hundred years, he was free... free of the darkness that had been his constant companion, free of the hunger that had plagued him. He looked at Rhianna. She was beautiful, the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. For the first time since he had met her, her blood did not call to him.

Rhianna was watching him carefully. "Are you all right?"

"I'm mortal again," he replied. "It seems I can't promise you forever anymore."

"I never wanted forever," she said, happiness shining in her eyes. "Only a lifetime with the man I love."

"You shall have it, my sweet Rhianna." He glanced at the doorway, at the bright golden light beyond.

The light beckoned him, tantalizing in its warmth, its purity. The world he had shut himself away from waited beyond that door. A world he could share with the woman he loved.

"Rayven..."

He drew her into his arms and kissed the tears from her eyes. "Ah, my sweet Rhianna, Salvatore will say it was the potion and my faith that worked the miracle, but I know better. It was your love that brought me through the darkness."

Happiness bubbled up inside him, and he kissed her again, exultantly, and then, rising to his feet, he took Rhianna by the hand and walked out into the sunlight of a new day, a new life.