Dead Perfect

He blew out a sigh. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

Her gaze moved over him. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. “As always. Do you want me to go?”

“No.” Taking him by the arm, she pulled him inside, then closed the door.

Crossing her arms under her br**sts, she looked up at him.

For once, he couldn’t read her expression and so he stood there, waiting.

“He would have killed me, wouldn’t he?”

Ronan nodded, once, curtly.

“You saved my life,” she said quietly. “Again.”

“But now you’ve seen me as I really am, and you no longer like what you see.”

She frowned thoughtfully, then shook her head. “How can you think that? I’d be dead if it wasn’t for you.”

“You wouldn’t have been here in the first place if it wasn’t for me.”

She couldn’t argue with that and she didn’t try.

“You should have run away,” he said, his voice tinged with anger. Had he lost the fight, she would have been at the mercy of the other vampire.

“I did run away.”

“Yes,” he said dryly, “when it was over. He could have destroyed me, you know. What would you have done then?”

She hadn’t considered for a moment that Ronan wouldn’t win. He had always seemed so strong, so invincible, she couldn’t imagine anyone defeating him. Placing her hand on his chest, she said, “You were magnificent.”

He lifted one brow. “Magnificent? Is that why you ran away?”

“No. I’m not sure why I ran. I guess…” She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Perhaps it was your good sense asserting itself, albeit too late.”

“Thank you for rescuing me.”

“You’re not afraid of me, then? You’re not repulsed by what you saw?”

“A little. It was ugly and I was scared, but…” She looked up at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I don’t want to think about it anymore. I just want you to hold me.”

He drew her gently into his arms, thinking again what a remarkable creature she was, grateful that in spite of everything she had seen, she hadn’t run screaming from his presence.

Chapter Twenty-Six

She dreamed of dying. Floating above her body, she watched the doctors who were gathered around her, trying in vain to revive her.

She heard the hum and whine of the life support system, the voices of the doctors, sharp with urgency, and then a resigned voice saying, “It’s over, we’ve lost her.”

She heard her mother’s hoarse cry of denial when the doctor called to deliver the sad news, saw the grief on the faces of her mother and father as they laid her to rest. Sealed inside a white coffin, she heard the dirt clods falling on the lid. She screamed in fear when she was unable to lift the lid. Sobbing, she begged them to let her out before it was too late, before she really was dead. She screamed until her throat ached, pounded on the lid of the casket until her hands bled, broke her fingernails in a vain effort to claw her way out. Heard her own scream of terror as she realized she was going to suffocate…

“Shannah! Shannah, wake up!”

“No! No! Let me out!” She lashed out at the dark figure bending over her, her nails drawing blood as they raked his cheek. “Let me out! Oh, please, let me out! I’m not dead!”

Ronan caught both of her hands in one of his. “Shannah, calm down. You’ve had a nightmare.”

She collapsed against him, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Shh, love, it’s all right.” He held her tight, one hand stroking her back, her hair. “It was just a bad dream.”

“It was so real.” Shivering, she huddled against him. “I w-want to…to go home.”

He let out a sigh, thinking that he was losing her far sooner than he had planned. But he couldn’t keep her with him against her will, not anymore. He could refuse her nothing that he had the power to give, and if she wanted to go home, he would take her there.

“All right, love,” he said quietly. “Do you want to call your parents and tell them you’re coming?”

She looked up at him, her brow furrowed. “Oh,” she said, sniffling. “I didn’t mean my parents’

home. I meant your home.”

Her words plucked a thorn of despair from his heart. “I’ll take good care of you,” he promised.

“I know.”

He handed her a handkerchief when she sniffed again. Sitting up, she blew her nose and wiped her eyes.

“That must have been some nightmare,” he said. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I dreamed that I died and that my parents…they buried me. But I wasn’t dead and I couldn’t get out!” She looked at him, her eyes wide with horror. “Do you think they ever bury people who aren’t dead?”

“Not anymore,” he said reassuringly. In the old days, it had been a common occurrence to bury someone thinking they were deceased. There had been occasions when a coffin was exhumed and when it was opened, scratches had been found on the inside of the lid, indicating that the deceased hadn’t been deceased at all. In time, a string was tied to one of the deceased’s hands, with the other end of the string being attached to a bell above ground. Should the one interred suddenly regain consciousness and begin to thrash about, the movement caused the bell to ring. It was believed that it was that ancient custom that had spawned the term “dead ringer.”

Shannah blew out a sigh. “It was the worst nightmare I’ve ever had.”

“I’m sure it was.”

She touched his bloodied cheek. “Did I do that?”

“It’s nothing.”

“I’m sorry.” She dabbed at his cheek with his handkerchief but there was no need. The shallow scratches were already healing.

“Believe me,” he said with a wry grin, “I’ve been hurt much worse.”

“Can we leave tonight?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“It is. I don’t like it here.”

“All right, love. Gather your things while I go and tell Valerie we’re leaving.”

“Thank you, Ronan.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “I won’t be long.”

Ronan found Valerie at the club, sitting at her usual booth. A young vampire with long brown hair and pale green eyes sat beside her, his expression one of rapt adoration.