Night's Pleasure (Children of The Night 4)

“Sure.”

Savanah followed Rane outside. Since they had stopped at the store earlier, there were several sacks of groceries in addition to their luggage. It took only a few minutes to collect everything. Rane dropped their luggage on the floor inside the front door, then took two of the grocery bags from Savanah’s arms and followed her into the kitchen.

Savanah opened the nearest cupboard. She didn’t know why she was surprised to find it empty. However, a second cupboard was filled with a set of beautiful crystal wineglasses.

She looked at Rane askance.

He shrugged. “My family likes a glass of wine now and then.

Savanah nodded, wondering if wine was the only thing his family drank out of the delicate stemware.

“What about the stove and refrigerator? Don’t tell me your family likes to cook, too?”

He chuckled. “No, but occasionally Mara brings a mortal to visit.”

Savanah looked at him, a question in her eyes.

“She takes mortal lovers from time to time,” he explained with a shrug. “They need food and drink.”

She couldn’t help wondering if Mara’s mortal visitorsbecame food and drink, but she didn’t ask. Shaking off the morbid thought, she opened the refrigerator to put the milk, butter, vegetables, fruit, and cheese away. “Does she keep the electricity on all the time?”

“No. I called ahead.”

With a nod, Savanah closed the door. It took only moments to put away the rest of the groceries. With nothing else to do, she felt suddenly awkward and uncertain.

“Come on,” Rane said, “let’s go sit in front of the fire and relax.”

“All right.”

Savanah sat on one of the sofas, her legs curled beneath her. Rane sat at the other end, one arm draped along the back of the couch. Silence stretched between them.

Savanah watched the flames dancing in the stone hearth, her thoughts filled with memories of her father. It was hard to believe she would never see him again, never hear him crack his silly jokes, or read his funny e-mails. Never again would they argue politics, or stay up late working out the details of a newspaper article. Tears burned the backs of her eyes and the next thing she knew, she was sobbing.

She hadn’t seen him move, but in the space of a heartbeat, Rane was sitting beside her, his strong arm around her shoulders. She collapsed against him, needing his strength, grateful for his hand lightly stroking her hair, his voice assuring her that, in time, she would be able to remember the good times she had spent with her father without feeling the pain of his loss.

“How long?” she asked. “How long will it take for the pain to go away?”

“It varies,” he said, brushing a kiss across the top of her head. “Usually a year or two, but it will get a little easier to bear every day.”

A year or two. It sounded like forever.

With a sigh, she snuggled against his side. Never, in all her life, had she been so confused. She was supposed to be a Vampire hunter, yet here she was, cuddling on the sofa with one of the Nosferatu when she should be thinking of ways to take his head. She was grieving for her father, wondering what to do with the rest of her life, yet she had invited Rane to share her bed. Did she really want to hunt Vampires? Did she want to continue working for the Chronicle? Would she be happier if she sold the house and moved to a new city? Someplace she had never been before, where there were no memories to remind her of all she had lost? She wished she had a crystal ball she could gaze into and see her future.

She wished…that Rane would kiss her.

Slowly, he drew her into his arms, his dark eyes searching hers, giving her plenty of time to change her mind.

For once, she was glad he could read her mind. It made everything so much easier. His kiss was long and slow and tender, masterful without being demanding, asking nothing, giving her only pleasure and forgetfulness.

Rane gazed down at Savanah. Her even breathing told him she had fallen asleep, her head pillowed on his chest, one arm draped across his waist. It amazed him that she trusted him enough to rest in his embrace. Of course, she had no idea how her blood called to him, whispering to his hunger. He could almost taste her on his tongue, feel the warmth of her life’s essence sliding down his throat.

What was he to do with her?

He eased the hair away from her neck. Such a lovely neck, smooth and slender. His gaze was drawn to the pulse beating slow and steady in the hollow of her throat, echoing the rhythm of her heart’s beat, calling to him, tempting him.

A taste, he thought. Just one taste, to ease his hunger, to satisfy his unholy craving. Just one taste…

He scraped his fangs along her throat. She stirred but didn’t wake.

It took all the self-control he possessed to pull away. Cursing himself, he carried her up the stairs and put her to bed before his hunger overcame his willpower, and then he left the house.

A thought took him into the town. Although it was little more than a stop-off place for tourists, it boasted several nightclubs, all of which were open.

He picked the one closest to the edge of town. Going inside, he took a place at the bar, ordered a glass of dry red wine, and waited.

It didn’t take long. A woman who had been sitting by herself moved toward him, her hips swaying provocatively, her lips parted in a smile that told him all too clearly what she wanted. He watched her saunter toward him, her black leather skirt so tight, he wondered how she could walk at all. A low-cut, off-the-shoulder, pink sweater revealed an expanse of creamy white skin.

Rane smiled back. Though she didn’t know it, only one of them would get what they wanted that night.

“I’m Diane,” she said, sliding onto the bar stool next to his. “Can I buy you a drink?”

He lifted his glass. “I have one, thank you.”

“Anything else I could get you?”

“I don’t know,” he said, willing to play the game. “What do you have in mind?”

Her fingers trailed down his chest, then settled on his thigh. “Don’t you know?”

“I’ve got a pretty good idea,” Rane replied, thinking there were all kinds of predators.

She slid her hand up and down his thigh, moving a little higher each time, until Rane caught her hand in his. “Let’s take it slow, shall we?”

She shrugged. “Slow or fast, honey, whatever you want. My place is just around the corner.”

With a nod, Rane put his glass on the bar. “Let’s go.”

She lived in a modest cabin at the end of a long driveway. A single light burned in the window.