Excerpt of Golden Vampire by Linda Thomas-Sundstrom

"Jesse," he said quietly. "I'm here."

Could she hear him?

He watched her straighten so quickly that she turned on one heel. Bright spots of pink tinted her cheeks. Her chest rose and fell, straining at her buttons.

Lance's gaze fastened on those buttons. Then up to the white collar surrounding a slender neck marred by a jagged white scar of puckered skin that ran nearly full circle from front to back, much like a necklace of woven white thread.

Still there. The scar. Openly visible. Uncovered by a scarf or high-necked sweater. The remnant of a terrible, life-threatening wound, and worn uncovered as what? A badge of courage? An indication of the secrets curled up within her incredibly honed, fighting-fit body?

The scar as a talisman? A remembrance?

Below Lance's waist something long dormant stirred for the second time in a hundred years. His incisors extended in direct correlation. He ran his tongue over his teeth, felt the familiar prick, then blinked slowly, noting how everywhere else his muscles again stretched toward her, as if recognizing a piece of himself. As if wanting that piece back.

"I'm waiting," he said, his voice throaty with greed, lust and longing — for Jesse; sensations he hadn't experienced since he'd lost his only love in that awful swirl of time gone by. Gwen. Lost to him because he'd refused to bring her over. He'd refused to make her one of what he was, though she had begged.

And now Jesse. What was she to him?

Although caution had prevailed with the injured girl in the dark alley, and though he had been careful with the extent of his gift to her all those years ago, he had ensured that her little life would continue. He had kept Jesse alive . . .