Her eyelids lowered, and her irises darkened a shade, flickering with unmistakable desire. “All I want is you.

Does this make me your muse?” His voice was a low, luscious tone that rippled through her…“In a way, I guess it does.” She took a step back, she needed air. Being around him, so close, made it too difficult to breathe.“Maybe you’ll be mine.

Don’t be afraid,” he said. “Art is full of agony and beauty. The pen itself a sword of pleasure and pain, isn’t it, my poet?

A cross between two species. Doomed with the thirst of the undead for human blood, yet tormented by the gargoyle drive to protect them.

Since she had arrived for her stay at the artists’ colony called Les Beaux Arts at the Chateau DeRoche, she’d noticed something different about the owner, Antoine Chevalier. And not just the way his eyes bore into hers, shooting shivers through her and making it difficult to breathe. His quiet nature, his preference for seclusion for days at a time, and his still, composed temperament belied an intensity within. Noir eyes that rarely blinked spoke of haunted depth and smoldering passion.

You don’t have to pose,” she said. “I want to capture you as you were. Forget I’m even here.”He gave her a lopsided grin. “It’s impossible not to notice you.

Their art was a natural pairing – Savannah’s poems were intensely romantic and sensual, and Antoine’s sculptures were erotically charged – and it only fueled the talk speculating if they were together.

You could inspire any man to do a number of things.

I’m into you, Gina.” He studied her face, her parted lips, and then pulled his gaze away. “But we can never be together.

When you live among piranhas, you find truth and goodness an asset.