“All right. Anything else?”
“If Sheree’s willing, you should drink from her, as well.”
“Of course,” Sheree said, “as much as he needs.”
“Anything else?” Derek asked gruffly.
“I think that about covers it,” Pearl said. “Edna?”
“Nothing comes to mind.”
“If we’re done here,” Derek said, taking Sheree by the hand, “I’m going to go make love to my wife.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Later that night, Sheree lay curled against Derek’s side. He had made love to her with such exquisite tenderness, it had brought tears to her eyes because every kiss, every caress, had felt like good-bye.
He ran his fingertips along her lower lip. “Don’t be sad, love.”
“Is it possible to be happy and sad at the same time?”
His knuckles slid ever so lightly down her chin to the curve of her throat. “I can’t be sad while you’re with me.” His gaze moved over her face, as if to memorize every line. “However this turns out, always remember I love you.”
Sheree blinked back her tears. “Everything will be all right. I have to believe that. You have to believe that. I don’t want to go on without you. No matter what happens, we’ll face it together.”
“All right, wife,” he said with a wry smile.
She placed her hand on his chest, her fingers curling in his hair. “Are you tired?”
He snorted softly. “Hardly.” His gaze moved to her throat.
“Pearl said you need to feed again.”
“Yeah.”
“Can I go with you?”
“What?” Sitting up, he raked his fingers through his hair, then swung his legs over the edge of the bed, putting his back toward her. “No way.”
“Why not? You watch me eat.”
He swung around to face her, eyes blazing. “Dammit, Sheree, it’s hardly the same thing!”
“It’s not like I don’t know what you do.”
“Some things are best done in private,” he muttered.
“What are you afraid of?”
“What do you think?” His gaze met hers, his eyes dark, haunted.
She read the answer in his eyes before he turned away from her again.
He was afraid, she realized, afraid that she would no longer see him as a man, but as a monster. Even though she knew he was a vampire, even though she had given him her own blood and would gladly do so again, he didn’t want her to see him hunt his prey. It was almost as if he was ashamed of what he had to do to survive.
And even as the thought crossed her mind, she knew that was the real answer.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked such a thoughtless thing.” She laid a tentative hand on his back. “Forgive me?”
“There’s nothing to forgive.”
“You should go.”
He nodded once, briefly, grabbed his clothes, and was gone.
“You’re an idiot, Sheree Blackwood.” With a sigh of exasperation, she pounded her fist on the pillow. “How could you have been so blasted stupid?”
Derek found an upscale nightclub in the nearest city. There had been a time when bars closed, usually around two A.M., but these days, you could always find one that stayed open all night.
He ordered a glass of wine and carried it to a small table in the shadows. There were only a few people in the place at this hour—lonely people who didn’t want to go home, or those just getting off work who needed to unwind a little before going to bed. Sad, unhappy people, mostly. One young woman sat alone at the end of the bar. She downed two drinks, one after the other, then sat there, staring at the empty glasses.
Derek sipped his drink, thinking about Sheree’s request. Of all the things she could have asked him, that was one thing he had never considered. Growing up, he had watched his mother hunt. At times, she was gentle as she seduced her victims, taking only what she needed, wiping the memory from their minds. But she could be a ruthless predator when the occasion called for it. He had seen her kill on several occasions—quickly, cleanly, with no regrets, no apologies.
Sheree had seen the violence in him, but those occasions had been to protect her life, or his own. She had never seen him hunt his prey; if he had his way, she never would.
When the young woman left the bar, he followed her down the street. Taking care to block his link to Sheree, he called his prey to him and took what he wanted.
It was near dawn when Derek returned to the castle. Sheree was asleep, her cheek pillowed on her hand, her face damp with tears.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“So am I.”
“I thought you were sleeping.”
“I was waiting for you.”
“Sheree, I . . .”
“Shh, you don’t have to explain. I think I understand.” Sitting up, she brushed her hair behind her ear. “You need to drink from me.”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Pearl said . . .”
“I don’t give a damn what she said!”
“Please, if it will help, you’ve got to.”
He wanted to lash out, to drive his fist against the wall, to bewail the fate that had cursed him with the blood of not one monster, but two. And then, perhaps feeling guilty, that same fate had sent him an angel to ease his pain.
He groaned low in his throat as he sat on the bed, drew her into his arms, and took what he so desperately needed.
Derek slept all that day.
Slipping out of bed, Sheree washed up in the basin on the dresser, thinking how happy she would be to get back home. She didn’t know how people had survived without showers and hot running water in the old days, but she sorely missed the wonders of the modern world—especially flush toilets!
After drying off with a fluffy white towel, she pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater, then sat on the edge of the bed, watching him sleep, until Mara insisted she come downstairs and have something to eat.
“I’m really not hungry,” Sheree said, following the vampire into the kitchen.
“You have to eat,” Mara said. “Giving Derek your blood drains you, whether you think it does or not. You need to keep your strength up, too.”
“Is there anything you don’t know?”
Mara smiled faintly. “Derek is my son. Our connection runs deeper than merely mother and child. Even when we’re apart, I know when he’s troubled, when he’s hurting. Last night, you insisted he needed nourishment. Take your own advice.”