Praise for the novels of
MAGGIE SHAYNE
âThe latest from bestselling Shayne is an interesting, inventive tale.â
âPublishers Weekly on Demonâs Kiss
âSuspense, mystery, danger and passionâno one does them better than Maggie Shayne.â
âRomance Reviews Today on Darker Than Midnight
âA tasty, tension-packed read.â
âPublishers Weekly on Thicker Than Water
âMaggie Shayne demonstrates an absolutely superb touch, blending fantasy and romance into an outstanding reading experience.â
âRT Book Reviews on Embrace the Twilight
âMaggie Shayne is better than chocolate. She satisfies every wicked craving.â
âNew York Times bestselling author Suzanne Forster
âMaggie Shayne delivers sheer delight, and fans new and old of her vampire series can rejoice.â
âRT Book Reviews on Twilight Hunger
âShayneâs haunting tale is intricately woven⦠A moving mix of high suspense and romance, this haunting Halloween thriller will propel readers to bolt their doors at night!â
âPublishers Weekly on The Gingerbread Man
âShayneâs talent knows no bounds!â
âRendezvous
âMaggie Shayne delivers romance with sweeping intensity and bewitching passion.â
âNew York Times bestselling author Jayne Ann Krentz
Fifteenth Century
Romania
âWe have to bury her, my son.â
Vlad stood in the small stone chapel beside his beloved new bride. Elisabetaâs skin was as cold as the stone bier on which she lay. She wore the pale green wedding gown the servants had found for her on the day their hasty vows had been exchanged. The skirt draped on either side of her, swathing the stone slab in beauty. Her hair, pale as spun silver and endlessly long, spread around her head, as if pillowing her in a cloud.
âMy sonââ This time the old priestâs words were accompanied by his hand, clasping Vladâs shoulder.
Vlad whirled on the man. âNo! She is not to be put in the ground. Not yet. I wonât allow it.â
A little fear joined the pity in the old manâs eyes. Not enough, not yet. âI know this is difficultâI do. But she deserves to be laid to rest.â
âI said no,â Vlad repeated, his tone tired, his heart dead. Then he turned from the priest and focused again where he needed to focus: upon her, upon his bride. Their time together had been too short. One night and then part of a second before heâd been called into battle. It wasnât right.
The priest still hovered.
âGet out, before I draw my blade and send you out in pieces.â Vladâs words were barely more than a hoarse whisper, yet filled with enough menace to elicit a clipped gasp from the cleric.
âIâll send in your father. Perhaps he canââ
Vlad turned to send a warning glare over his shoulder. Brief, but powerful enough to reduce most mortals to tears.
âIâm going, my liege.â The priest bowed a little as he backed through the chapel doors.
Vlad sighed in relief when the doors closed once again, leaving him alone with his grief. He leaned over Elisabetaâs body, lowered his head to her chest, and let his tears soak the gown. âWhy, my love? Why did you do this? Was our love not worthy of a single dayâs grieving? I told you I would come back. Why couldnât you have believed in me?â
A soft creaking sound accompanied by a stiff night breeze and the gentle clearing of an aging throat told him that his respite was over. Vlad forced himself to straighten, to turn and face his fatherâfor truly, the man had become as much a father to him as any had been, since Utnapishtim.
The old king was pale and unsteady. Heâd lost a daughter-in-law heâd been close, already, to lovingâand for three days he had believed that he had lost his son, as well.
He crossed the small room, his gait uneven and slow, then wrapped his frail arms around Vladâs shoulders and hugged him hard, as hard as his strength would allow. âAlive,â he muttered. âBy the gods, my son, youâre alive after all.â
Vlad closed his eyes as he returned his fatherâs embrace. âAlive, father, but none too glad to be, just now.â As he said it, he looked back at his bride.
His father did, as well, releasing his hold on Vlad to move closer to the bier. âI cannot tell you how it grieves me to see you in such pain, much less to witness the loss of such a precious young woman as Elisabeta.â
âI know.â
âYour friend, the foreign womanâshe told you what transpired?â
Vlad nodded. âRhiannon isâ¦an old friend. And a dear one. She said she arrived here for a visit just after I was called to defend our borders.â
âSo she did. We put her up. Fussy one, she is, and I donât believe she thought highly of your chosen bride. Were the two of youâ¦?â
âAs close as any two people can be,â Vlad told him. âBut we had no claims on each other. She would not have been jealous.â
âShe called the princess aânow what was the word she usedâ¦? Ah yes, a whiner,â the king said softly. âTo her face, no less.â