The tiny hairs on the back of Luna's neck bristled.
Although the vampire bore the innocent and vulnerable visage of a twelve-year-old, Luna was not deceived.
His gray eyes, swirling with ancient wisdom, hinted that he had seen the ebb and flow of countless civilizations, albeit with detached interest.
How old could this vampire possibly be?
Abruptly, he tilted his head, blinked languidly, and crouched slightly.
"Hello, love," he murmured, his voice deep with a Scottish warrior's accent, betraying an age far beyond his youthful appearance. "It's good to see you still draw breath."
A fierce urge to press her lips against his tempting, bow-shaped mouth consumed Luna. Even as she fought the longing to gently trace his jaw or draw him closer by his nape, the desire to steal his breath with a kiss surged within her.
She wrestled with the impulse when realization dawned on her.
Oh, goddess.
