Wicked Lord: Part One by Shirl Anders Page A

strength and a sneer of white
teeth. Adam was forced backward, disbelieving the power as he
toppled against the chair, pushing it to the side, then his back
hit the door with a thud.
    "Fanton," Adam gasped at the pain and
immense pressure that seemed to build around him. He saw Fanton's
eyes with flashing red centers as Fanton growled an animalistic
sound. Adam knew Fanton was set to kill him as his littlest finger
snapped beneath the crushing pressure of Fanton's hand. Adam
bellowed in pain, fighting not to let Fanton push him to the
ground.
    Abruptly, through the haze of pain clenching
his eyes, he saw a beam of sunlight fall across the side of
Fanton's face. It was dawn and the light was streaming in from the
hall window. He was going to die at dawn!
    Suddenly, Fanton shouted a horrendous groan
and stumbled back, releasing him. Adam clutched his hand as he bent
at the waist in pain, but still looking up at Fanton in horror.
    " What are you?" Adam shouted fiercely
over his pain.
    Fanton was glaring at the ray of sunlight
across their path as though it were a vile thing. Then he turned
his body, gathering his cloak around himself, and stalked away.
     
     

Chapter Ten
     
     
    Trinity had an hour before dawn to survey
the site of the freshest murder and the surrounding woods for clues
about the killer. He could walk by daylight; however, it was
uncomfortable and he preferred not to ride in sunlight. Therefore,
the grey edges of dawn found him standing over the bloody remains
of the woman killed in the woods. One would think the blood would
taunt him, but his thoughts were relentlessly on breasts of
temptation and thighs of desire never before touched by man or
beast.
    "Hell," he muttered, rubbing a rough hand
over the bristle on his hard jaw. He was cunning and strong enough
to take anything from humans. Even their lives. That was the point.
He was the predator and they were the prey. He'd learned that well
at the command of his Sire. He could still see the faces and hear
the screams. Hundreds of them. So helpless. The women and the
children were especially hard. The mortal dredges of him that
remembered being human were disgusted and deeply saddened by the
powerless ones he'd killed.
    He and his brothers had been so young, as
their vile stepfather turned each one of them into vampires. One by
one — and they'd been very afraid of him. That fear of him had
overcome their loathing to hunt humans for him to feed upon.
    Their mother hadn't realized when she'd
married him what he was. He'd used every temptation he could
conjure to tempt her for the sole purpose of getting his hand on
the four little boys. He coveted them to feed upon at first, until
they grew to be strong enough to turn into vampires that would hunt
for him. After the first year of marriage, their mother was dead
and there was no one left to save them.
    Trinity growled at his memories, wondering
why they taunted him now, intertwining with his thoughts of Lady
Beth Winslow. Perhaps it was because of what could have been. She
was the kind of woman he would have married in his long-lost human
form. She had sweetness and curves to tempt him until old age. He
wondered if he had bound her to him now. Had giving her his blood
turned her fate? It worried him. He didn't want to corrupt her.
    "No," he snapped, he would protect
her. Somehow, he would keep her safe … from himself.
    Throwing away his confused thoughts, Trinity
crouched down to study the edges of the murder site. He could see
where the foul one had dragged his fresh kill into the small
clearing. More room to work. He wondered if human men could do such
a thing, while speculating about what the monster's point was.
There was too much blood left for a vampire and it didn't make
sense the monster could be a vampire. Vampires wouldn't tear their
food apart in such an animalistic way. This was passion of some
kind. A deeply abhorrent lust.
    He wondered if Cull was missing another
whore. He would have to ask