Navarre, Spain, 1741

The sound of soft singing drifted through the trees, and Isabeau Aguillon paused, listening. The voice was sweet and quiet, and a little off-key, and Isabeau smiled, her heart lifting. She knew that voice.

She broke into a run, her vampire vision easily navigating her past fallen branches, and logs buried beneath lichen, ditches and holes in the ground, until she reached the small wooden shack in the clearing halfway up the forest slope.

The curtains were open, and candlelight flickered in the windows, calling Isabeau home.

Putting on an extra burst of speed, she flung open the front door.

Beatriz was in the front room, stacking wood in the grate for a fire, and she looked up as Isabeau came in, her face breaking into a smile.

Isabeau crossed the room in two strides and swept Beatriz into her arms, kissing her as if they'd been parted for two years rather than two days.

"I didn't know you were coming," she said.

"I wanted to surprise you," Beatriz said, smiling again. Her cheeks dimpled in a way that made Isabeau's heart lurch.

Beatriz Allende was the opposite of Celeste Beauchene in every way. Celeste had been graceful, elegant, with her marble skin and mahogany hair and petite figure. Beatriz was petite too, but what she lacked in height, she made up for in curves. Her skin was tanned from years working on her family's farm, and her hands were often rough rather than satiny like Celeste's had been. She usually wore her dark hair tied back with a grubby scrap of cloth, and beneath her curves, her body was stout and sturdy from so much manual labour. Perhaps objectively, she wasn't as beautiful as Celeste, and yet at the same time she was so much more beautiful.

Even after two years together, Isabeau felt a pull towards this Spanish woman that she'd never felt before.

"Walk with me?" Beatriz said, linking her fingers with Isabeau.

"Always."

It had been nine years since Isabeau had left France and the trio of women who had, for a time, been her family. She'd travelled Italy for several years before heading to Spain and she hadn't intended to settle here, but then she'd met Beatriz.

While exploring the Navarre region of Spain, Isabeau had found that small wooden shack in the depths of the Irati Forest. It seemed to have been abandoned, and so she'd claimed it for her own, giving her somewhere to return to while exploring.

But from the moment she'd first seen Beatriz, walking in the forest as the sun set, she'd been transfixed. Everything had changed. She forgot about exploring and travelling. Suddenly the only thing that mattered was finding out who this woman was.

The next time Beatriz came to the forest, Isabeau introduced herself. She'd been surprised to find out that she was nervous. Back when she'd been human, she was always the one who'd initiated stolen kisses with other girls, and she'd grown even more confident during her relationship with Celeste. But it was different with Beatriz. Isabeau had never felt this way about anyone, and sometimes she swore she could feel her heart racing. It wasn't, of course – it couldn't – but sometimes she pressed a hand to her chest, just to be sure.

Beatriz lived a couple of miles away, in a small village outside the forest with her family, but she often came here to be alone. Not many other people wandered the forest, which was also why Isabeau had decided to stay in that shack.

Neither she nor Beatriz were expecting to meet each other.

But from the moment they met, neither had been able to deny their blazing attraction.

Beatriz couldn't tell her family about Isabeau – they didn't even know Isabeau existed – and so they'd begun a relationship in secret. Several times a week, Beatriz would slip away from home and walk to the forest to see Isabeau, where they'd spend as much of the night together as possible before Beatriz began the walk home. Some nights they would spend almost the entire time in bed, or wrapped in rough blankets in front of the fire. Other times they would walk together in the forest, talking. Both were equally important to Isabeau.

Beatriz gave her everything that Celeste never had – complete honesty and respect. She just wished she could be as honest in return.

"Look," Beatriz whispered, stopping and pointing.

A few feet ahead , a wild boar nosed through the undergrowth, its stocky body bustling through thick clumps of ferns. Beatriz's eyes shone as she watched it.

This was one of the things that Isabeau loved best about her. This was far from Beatriz's first time seeing a boar in the forest, but every time, she treated it as if it was a new experience. She found so much joy in everything, and it made Isabeau's heart sing.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Beatriz said.

"Yes," Isabeau replied, but she wasn't looking at the boar.

After a few minutes the boar moved on, and so did the women.

During the early days of their relationship, Isabeau had panicked. She couldn't tell Beatriz that she was a vampire, so how was she supposed to explain that she couldn't be out in the sun? Beatriz usually came at night, when everyone else was asleep, but there'd been occasions when she'd sneaked out of the house in the early hours of the mornings to come to Isabeau. The mere touch of sunlight wouldn't set Isabeau on fire, but she still needed to be careful.

Eventually she'd woven a story about how sunlight made her sick, and Beatriz had accepted that, even though Isabeau wasn't entirely convinced that Beatriz believed her.

"Come on," Beatriz said, pulling Isabeau's hand.

They moved through endless trees of beech and silver fir, until they came to a small shelf of flat ground, jutting out of the slopes of the forest and overlooking the land below.

Beatriz loved to sit here and watch the world.

She sat down, and Isabeau sat behind her, her legs on either side of Beatriz's hips, so Beatriz could lean back against her chest.

Beatriz didn't smell sweet, like Celeste. She smelled of soil and animals and straw, and Isabeau loved it.

She hadn't meant to fall in love with this plump little Spanish woman, hadn't even realised it was happening, until one night, when they'd been out walking, and she'd suddenly realised it had happened.

Isabeau had never been in love before, and she'd blurted out her feelings before she had time to think about it. At first Beatriz had said nothing, and Isabeau had silently panicked again. But then Beatriz had smiled, soft and sweet, and kissed Isabeau.

"I love you too," she'd whispered, and nothing in the world had ever sounded so good to Isabeau's ears.

Now they loved each other more each day.

"Lord Galiano's son called on me again today," Beatriz said.

Isabeau felt a stab of annoyance. She wasn't a jealous person, but she did not like Ulises Galiano.

His father, Lord Galiano, owned the land that Beatriz's village sat on, and much of what the Allende family earned went to the lord in the form of rent and taxes. But that wasn't all the Galianos wanted. A few months ago, the family's middle son, Ulises, had taken a liking to Beatriz and had started dropping by the farm to visit her, sometimes with gifts.

That wasn't what bothered Isabeau.

What bothered her was the way Beatriz described him, arrogant rather than confident, oily rather than charming, and apparently convinced that it was only a matter of time before he won Beatriz over.

"What happened?" Isabeau asked.

Beatriz shrugged. "Nothing much. I was too busy to talk, and he doesn't like the smell of manure, so he didn't stay for long."

"He doesn't like the smell of manure and yet he wants to marry a farmer's daughter? Idiot," Isabeau muttered.

Beatriz squeezed her knee. "No one ever said he wanted to marry me."

"Even an idiot like him can see how beautiful you are."

Beatriz giggled and nuzzled further into Isabeau. "That doesn't mean he wants to marry me though. Maybe he just wants to bed me."

Isabeau stiffened a little. She wasn't possessive of her lover, but she was protective of her, especially when it came to men like Ulises Galiano, men who thought that they were owed something because they had money and a title.

"You will be careful around him, won't you? Don't let him touch you if you don't want him to."

"Of course I don't want him to." Beatriz looked up at Isabeau, her dimples showing. "I'm yours, Isabeau. Only yours."

But she couldn't tell Ulises that. And she couldn't lie and pretend that she was courting another suitor, because then her family would want to know who the mystery man was.

Isabeau's heart sank.

The last two years had been the most blissful of her life, but beneath the kisses and the walks, the earthy smell of Beatriz's hair and skin, and the bright glitter of being in love, a shadow was lurking.

Isabeau was very aware that things couldn't continue like this forever.

Beatriz knew there was something different about Isabeau – her inability to withstand the sunlight, the fact that Beatriz had never seen Isabeau eat or drink anything – but she'd never pried. She'd said once that she believed Isabeau would tell her everything when she was ready, however long that took.

Once, Isabeau had thought she'd never be able to tell Beatriz the truth.

Celeste had always taught her to be very, very careful about revealing her true nature to a human, as humans had a tendency to fear what they didn't understand, and to kill what they feared. Isabeau had never known if she was speaking from experience.

But now . . . now Isabeau wanted to tell Beatriz who and what she really was. More than that, she had to if she wanted this relationship to have any kind of future.

Beatriz was nineteen, and sooner or later – probably sooner – she'd be expected to take a husband. Telling her family that she couldn't marry because she had fallen in love with another woman wasn't an option, so where did that leave them?

They both loved the forest, and Isabeau truly believed that they could have lived out a happy life together in her little shack, but the farm was too close. If Beatriz failed to go home one day, her family would come looking for her. They would come to the forest.

Isabeau was strong enough to keep Beatriz safe from anyone who came looking, but she didn't want to put Beatriz in that position. Beatriz loved her family, and Isabeau couldn't bear the thought of making Beatriz choose between her lover and her family.

So that ruled out asking Beatriz to run away with her, too.

Isabeau had thought about it, so many times.

They could disappear into the night together, find somewhere else to live, far away from anyone who knew Beatriz. They didn't even have to stay in Spain – before meeting Beatriz, Isabeau had planned to visit other countries. They could go to Portugal or Morocco. They could go back to Italy, or even home to France.

Isabeau didn't care – she'd go anywhere with Beatriz.

But she couldn't ask Beatriz to sacrifice everything she'd ever known.

"What are you thinking?" Beatriz asked, stroking Isabeau's chin.

Maybe this was the right moment to finally broach the subject that Isabeau had skirted around for so long. But the words stuck in her throat.

"Ulises," she said instead.

A frown creased Beatriz's pretty forehead. "You really don't need to worry about him."

"Not so long ago, I was like you. My family expected me to take a husband, and they put a lot of pressure on me to attract one with money and a title. Someone like Ulises Galiano."

Beatriz sat up and shifted position so she was looking at Isabeau. "You've never told me this before."

"Honestly, it's not something I think about much these days. But I don't like the thought of him sniffing around you like that, and I worry that your family will support his interest."

"And?" Beatriz said after a moment.

"And what?"

Beatriz smiled softly, and there were the dimples. "There's something else you need to say, isn't there?"

"Have you considered marrying him?" Isabeau asked.

Beatriz recoiled a little, shock flashing across her face. "How can you even ask me that?"

"Because I know that you and your family have little money, even less after Lord Galiano takes his share. I know you work incredibly hard to help put food on the table, and if you married someone like Ulises, then your family's financial difficulties would come to an end. You'd no longer have to work on the farm. Can you honestly say you haven't considered that?"

Beatriz swallowed. "I hadn't."

"But you are now," Isabeau realised. She should have kept her mouth shut.

"You're the only one I want," Beatriz insisted.

But perhaps it wasn't as simple as that. When Isabeau had left her family, it hadn't affected their way of life. They might have been the subject of gossip and rumours, but that would only have lasted until the next scandal, and then Isabeau would have been forgotten about. They wouldn't have lost their fortune or their statue or their home.

Beatriz's family could lose all of that. They relied on her to help them, and if she disappeared with Isabeau, the impact on her family could be enormous. What if they could no longer afford to put food on the table without her contribution?

"Besides, as I said, Ulises's interest in me does not mean he's about to propose marriage," Beatriz said.

"But what if he did?"

"I'd say no."

"Even if it was beneficial to your family?"

Beatriz climbed to her feet and stalked off a short distance, angrily hugging herself. "Why are you talking like this? Do you want me to marry him?"

"No. But I can't give you the things that he can, and I don't ever want you to have to choose between me and your family."

Beatriz's expression softened. "It won't come to that, Isabeau. I love you and I'm not giving you up. I'm also not marrying Ulises, or anyone else, for any reason."

Tell her.

Isabeau gazed up at Beatriz. The Spanish woman was several inches shorter than her, so this was one of the rare times that she stood over Isabeau. She was so beautiful in the moonlight, strands of silver haloing her hair, her jaw set and her chin lifted, her dimples hidden.

If ever there was a time to tell her the truth, this was it. Beatriz needed to know what Isabeau really was so she could understand the reality of being in a relationship with her. But still Isabeau couldn't find the words.

Then Beatriz approached her and hiked up her skirts so she could slide into Isabeau's lap. Her skin was warm, her pulse an eager flutter, and Isabeau closed her eyes as she slid her hands around Beatriz's hips.

The moment for truth had passed. Anything that Isabeau wanted to say slipped like water from her mind as Beatriz pulled off her dress, revealing the soft curve of her belly and the weight of her breasts, paler than her tanned arms and face.

"Love me," Beatriz whispered, kissing Isabeau's lower lip, and Isabeau was lost to her.

Maybe next time she'd find the courage to tell the woman she loved what she really was.

Three days later

Isabeau was going to tell her.

She had to.

Beatriz owned her heart, and it wasn't right that Isabeau was keeping so much of herself hidden. She wanted a future with Beatriz, and that meant it was time for honesty. The only problem was that she wasn't sure when she'd next see the other woman. Beatriz usually managed to sneak away from home two or three times a week, but they'd never managed to arrange a regular schedule. She came when she could, and there were occasions when she could only manage once a week.

Isabeau hated going so long without seeing her.

The bed felt empty without her, the shack quieter and less warm. Even the forest itself seemed to miss her, like an essential spark had gone away.

But it was rare that Isabeau went more than a few days without her. For all she knew, Beatriz was at the shack even now, waiting for her to come home.

She never asked what Isabeau did out in the forest every night – it was one more thing that she'd accepted Isabeau would tell her when she was ready. Telling the woman that you loved that you were out every night drinking human blood from people in nearby towns and villages, or hunting down animals to drink from instead, would not be an easy conversation, but it was one that needed to happen.

Beatriz would accept it, Isabeau thought. It might come as a shock to her, and she might need time to absorb it, but she wouldn't turn on Isabeau when she found out Isabeau was a vampire.

Isabeau paused to let three roe deer pass by, their long legs delicately picking their way across the forest floor. Beatriz would have loved to see that.

When the deer were gone, Isabeau continued on her way, heading up the sloping land in the direction of her shack. She was almost there when she paused, scenting the air.

She could smell human blood, and that wasn't right. People rarely came into the forest, and when they did it was usually because they were hunting or foraging. The smell of animal blood wouldn't have been out of place, but human blood? That shouldn't be here.

A chill swept over Isabeau, and then she was running, her feet flying over the ground, while fear pounded in her chest.

It didn't have to mean anything. There were a dozen reasons why the smell of human blood would be in the air so close to her home, but there was so much of it.

When she reached the shack, she faltered, feeling like she'd been plunged into ice-water. The front door hung open. The smell was coming from inside.

Any flicker of hope that Isabeau had harboured was instantly snuffed out, and a terrible weight settled on her.

She didn't want to go into that shack.

She already knew what she was going to find.

But her feet carried her forward anyway, crunching quietly through heaps of leaf mould.

The shack was dark inside, no candles lit, no fire in the grate. Any feeling of life or warmth that had once been here was gone now. Beatriz lay on the floor in the front room. Blood formed a dark pool around her head, soaking into her hair, which had come loose from the rag that normally tied it back. A bloodied log lay nearby.

For the longest movement, all Isabeau could do was stand there, looking down at Beatriz's body. There were bruises on her arms where someone had viciously held her down – she'd fought her attacker then. Of course she had.

But it hadn't saved her.

Isabeau took a step into the room.

Beatriz's eyes were closed, her lips slack, blood painting red stripes across her tanned skin. Her dress was bunched up around her thighs, where there were more bruises on her skin, and Isabeau's heart savagely wrenched.

She knelt beside Beatriz, and touched her hand with trembling fingers. She was already cool – she must have been lying here for a while.

Everything inside Isabeau crumbled to ash, and she doubled over, a hoarse wail ripping from her throat.

Had Beatriz come here as normal, ready to light the fire and wait for Isabeau to come home, or had she been chased here? Had she run to the shack because she thought it would be safe for her? Had she thought Isabeau would protect her?

In the end, she'd died terrified and alone.

For the first time since becoming a vampire, Isabeau started to cry.

She knelt in the shack that would never again be home to her, clutching Beatriz's hand, and sobbed, her whole body shaking as her heart shattered into pieces.

When the tears had dried up, a deep, burning rage kindled in Isabeau's heart.

"Ulises," she hissed, her fangs sliding out.

He'd done this – she was sure of it.

He'd snuffed out the most beautiful star in the sky, taken away the only thing that mattered to Isabeau.

She climbed to her feet.

Beatriz's blood had soaked into the knee of Isabeau's cotton dress; it was cold and wet against her skin. But she didn't take the dress off.

Isabeau rang her tongue across her fangs, like she was testing the sharpness of a knife. She'd never used her fangs as a weapon before. Tonight she would.

Before she left the shack, she tore down one of the curtains she used to block out the sun while she was sleeping, and draped it over Beatriz's body. Isabeau didn't need the curtains anymore because she would never live in this shack again.

She paused before covering Beatriz's face, and gently stroked her rounded cheek, her fingertips lingering where those dimples would never again show.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, red tears blurring her eyes again. "I should have protected you."

There was nothing in this world that she wouldn't have given to hear Beatriz's sweet voice one more time, taste the fullness of her kiss and the softness of her body, the roughness of her hands, the straw-and-soil smell of her. All she could smell now was blood.

But nothing would bring Beatriz back.

Now all Isabeau could do was kill the fucking bastard who'd taken her away.

1/2

Next week, Isabeau is going to be unleashing her dark side. See you then :D