Night's Pleasure (Children of The Night 4)

With a shake of his head, he pulled her into his arms, quilt and all. “I do love you. That’s the trouble. Next time I promise to take just one taste, don’t believe me.”

“How much did you take?”

“I don’t know. More than I should have.” He hadn’t meant to, but one taste had only served to whet his appetite for more. He had been hungry for her, and she was so sweet…for a moment, he had lost himself in the sheer pleasure of feeding. He swore softly. It couldn’t happen again. “Stay here.”

“Where are you going?”

“To get you something to eat.”

She hadn’t realized she was hungry until he mentioned food. “I can do it.” She started to get up, only to fall back on the bed when the room began to spin.

“Stay here,” he said again, and left the room.

Downstairs, he thawed a steak in the microwave and quickly fried it up, his nose wrinkling at the stink of cooking meat. When it was done, he filled a glass with orange juice, plucked a gold-plated knife and fork from the drawer and carried everything upstairs. On the way back to the bedroom, he made a detour into the bathroom. Using the fork, he scooped up Savanah’s crucifix, then went into the bedroom.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he offered her the cross. “Put it on, and don’t take it off again.”

With a sigh, she slid the chain over her head. The silver felt cool against her skin.

Rane’s expression was grim as he cut the steak and fed it to her.

“It’s too rare,” she protested. “I like it cooked a little more.”

He tried not to notice the juices that oozed from the meat. “It’s better for you this way.”

He insisted she eat all of it and drink the orange juice, then he tucked her into bed. “Get some sleep.”

Hearing the worry in his voice, she said, “I’m all right. Honest.”

He nodded, though he wasn’t convinced. He had brought her here to protect her but he couldn’t help wondering if she wouldn’t be safer without him.

He stayed by her side until she fell asleep, then continued to sit there, staring out the window, his thoughts turned toward his brother. Why couldn’t he have been more like Rafe? Things had always come easy for his brother. Rafe had been the popular one in school, easygoing, affable, always at home in a crowd, while Rane had always held back a little.

He glanced at Savanah, wondering where their relationship would end. It had been an odd twist of fate that had brought a Vampire and a future Vampire hunter together. No matter which way he looked at it, he couldn’t see a happy ending. But even knowing that, he couldn’t let her go. As long as those books existed, her life was in danger.

He grunted softly. He could destroy the books, but it wouldn’t do much good. He didn’t know who wanted them. Even if he put out the word that the books had been destroyed, he had no guarantee that whoever was looking for them would hear of it, or believe it.

Curious, he went downstairs and out to his car where he retrieved both volumes. Carrying them inside, he locked the door, then sat down in the living room, opened the black book, and began to read. It gave him a strange feeling, seeing the long list of names of the Undead. Many of them were familiar to him even though he had never met them.

Putting the black book aside, he picked up the brown one. He wondered how long it had taken Savanah’s mother to compile her facts and if she’d had help. There were numerous books about Vampires, but he had never seen one that was so comprehensive or so accurate. She had it all: how to locate Vampires, how to destroy them, the various Supernatural powers they possessed. There was even a short section on Werewolves.

Like Vampires, Werewolves seemed to be immune to aging and disease, but they could be killed by any wound that destroyed the heart or the brain. While there was only one way to become a Vampire, there were numerous ways to become a Werewolf, including being bitten, being cursed, or being born to a Werewolf. A person who was turned against his will wasn’t cursed until he tasted human blood, something few Werewolves, or Vampires, for that matter, could resist for long. Most Werewolves were compelled to change at the full moon, though there were some who could change at will.

As dawn approached, Rane went upstairs to check on Savanah, then walked through the house, making sure all the doors and windows were closed and locked and that the protective wards, meant to keep intruders out, were in place. When that was done, he carried the books downstairs to Mara’s lair and hid them under the mattress.

Undressing, he stretched out on her bed and closed his eyes. Thinking of Savanah, he cursed his lack of self-control where she was concerned.

Even now, her taste lingered on his tongue.

Even now, filled with guilt and remorse, he wanted her again.

It was early afternoon when Savanah awoke, the nightmare she had just had still vivid in her mind. Rane had been holding her in his arms, his eyes filled with anguish as he told her over and over again how sorry he was for what he had done. At first, she had been confused and then, with crystal clarity, she realized what he had done. He had made her what he was.

Muttering, “It was just a dream,” she sat up, stretching her arms over her head. It was then that she saw the dishes on the nightstand. Only then that she remembered what had happened the night before. Rane had taken her blood. He had promised to take just a taste, but he had taken more. How much more? Enough that he had been truly concerned. Had her nightmare been a vision of things to come? If he had taken too much, would he have worked the Dark Trick on her?

The thought sent a shiver of revulsion down her spine. She might be in love with a Vampire, but she had no desire to become one.

Rising, she showered and dressed, then carried the dirty dishes downstairs, rinsed them off, and put them in the dishwasher.

Even though it was well past time for lunch, she was in the mood for bacon, scrambled eggs, and toast.

She was sitting back in her chair, enjoying a cup of coffee, when Rane entered the room, his expression wary as he dropped into the chair across from hers.

His gaze moved over her, long and assessing. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m all right.”

“Are you sure?”

“Rane…”

He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “All right, you’re fine, but you could have been dead.”

“I know that. Don’t you think I know that?”

He dragged a hand through his hair. “Dammit, Savanah, I could have killed you.”