Night's Pleasure (Children of The Night 4)

As the sun came up, she had whispered that she loved him, and then she had fallen into the deep, deathlike sleep of the Undead.

Early the next morning, a doctor had pronounced her dead and signed the necessary papers. William had called in a few favors and arranged to have her buried that afternoon.

He had sat at her graveside the rest of the day, slowly consuming a bottle of Irish whiskey. Just before sunset, with tears streaming down his cheeks, he had dug up the coffin and looked on the face of his beloved one last time. And then, using Barb’s stake and mallet, he had taken the grisly steps required to assure that when the sun set, she would not rise as a newly made Vampire.

William swallowed the hot bitter bile that rose in his throat as he remembered that horrible night, a night forever imprinted on his heart and soul as he had destroyed the woman who had been his wife. If he lived to be a hundred, he would never understand how the gentle woman who had shared his bed and borne their daughter could have spent her adult life doing what he had done that night—not just once, but dozens of times in her career as a hunter.

In spite of his revulsion, he had become a Vampire hunter that night, though his kills had been few. The war between the Vampires and the Werewolves had ended soon after Barbara’s death and his life had returned to normal until a hit-and-run driver put him in a wheelchair. The police had never found the man who hit him, but Will was pretty sure he knew who had been behind the wheel, or at least who had ordered the hit. He had been working on a story about government corruption in the city, and had taken the accident as a sign that he was getting too close to the man behind the money. He knew he was supposed to die that night. By the time he recovered enough to get back to work, the money trail had dried up. All things considered, he supposed someone in the Vampire community might have been behind the attempt on his life, but hit-and-runs really weren’t their style.

Will had never been able to prove who had been driving the car that hit him, nor had he ever learned who had attacked Barbara, but he hadn’t given up. Hopefully, he would live long enough to solve both mysteries.

Sipping his drink, Will stared up at the stars wheeling across the midnight sky. “I’ll find him, Barb,” he murmured. “I’ll find him, and I’ll make him pay if it’s the last thing I do, I promise.”

Chapter Six

Rane stopped by to pick up Savanah on his way to the theater the following night, and thoughtfully arranged for her to have the best seat in the house—front row center.

She was mesmerized, as always, while she watched Santoro the Magnificent do his act. Even though she had seen his show several times, she was just as fascinated as she had been the first time. Now and then, she wondered what her friends at the newspaper would think if they knew she had a date with him after the show. She had dressed with care that evening, choosing a pair of black slacks and a deep blue sweater that made her eyes seem darker than they were.

Savanah felt a strange sense of satisfaction every time the audience applauded, a kind of proprietary pride in Rane’s performance. She didn’t understand why she felt that way. It would have been understandable if they were married or engaged, but he was little more than a stranger to her, someone who would soon be gone from her life. Maybe it was just because she had seen his act so many times through the years. Maybe it was because they had spent a few hours together the night before. Whatever the reason, it pleased her when the audience responded to his act.

When he received a standing ovation, she rose with the rest of the crowd, then ducked out the side entrance that led to the dressing rooms. Her heart was pounding with anticipation when she reached his door.

He opened it before she knocked. “Come on in.”

“How did you know I was out here?”

He smiled, a slow sexy smile that made her heart beat even faster. Shirtless and barefooted, he was a feast for feminine eyes. She couldn’t help staring at him. He was so beautiful, it was all she could do to keep from reaching for him. Even now, her fingers itched to explore the broad expanse of his chest, to slide up his arms, to measure the width of his biceps, to tangle in his hair…

“There’s a bed behind the curtain,” he remarked. His voice was deep and sinfully rich, edged with wry amusement.

She looked up at him, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I…”

“It’s all right, honey. I like the way you look, too.”

She didn’t know what to say, so she wisely said nothing.

“I thought we might go dancing,” he said, reaching for a dark gray shirt. “That okay with you?”

Savanah nodded, thinking it was a shame to cover up that beautiful chest, those broad shoulders, those gorgeous arms.

“Or we could go to my place,” he said with a knowing grin, “and I could take it all off.”

She would have said it was impossible, but her cheeks grew even hotter. What was the matter with her? She had never felt such…such lust, for a man. But then, she had never known a man who exuded such raw masculinity. His voice, his smile, the roguish look in his eyes…Shape-shifter or not, she defied any woman past puberty to resist him.

“Dancing sounds like fun,” she remarked.

He pulled on a pair of soft leather boots, then grabbed a black jacket from the back of a chair. “Let’s go.”

She couldn’t think of anything to say on the way to the club. She was acutely aware of the man sitting in the car beside her. His scent filled her nostrils, his nearness made her edgy in a way she had never experienced before. Every nerve ending seemed to be on alert, just waiting for the touch of his hand. The fact that he didn’t speak made her wonder if he was as nervous as she, though she doubted it. Besides being the sexiest man she had ever seen, he was also the most confident, self-assured man she had ever met.

Rane slid a glance at the woman beside him. He didn’t have to rely on his preternatural powers to know she found him attractive, or that she was as nervous as a week-old kitten confronting a hungry tom. He couldn’t blame her. She was right to be on edge. He didn’t think she was aware of it on a conscious level, but he knew her instinct for self-preservation was warning her that she was in danger. He wondered if she sensed that he wanted more from her than a few nights of passion, that he wanted her life’s blood, and perhaps her life, as well.

He pulled into the parking lot a few minutes later. Killing the engine, he turned toward Savanah. Under his gaze, her heart beat a little faster. The sound stirred his hunger. For a moment, he thought of surrendering to the need within him. It would be so easy to take her, here, now, to take it all.