Night's Promise (Children of The Night 6)

“What makes you think there’s anything wrong?”

She lifted one brow. “Why else would you be here at this time of the night?”

He longed to tell her what he had learned about his father’s death, but there was no way to explain it without betraying the fact that his mother and Logan were also vampires, or that Mara was his mother. Stroking Sheree’s hair, he whispered, “I just needed someone to hold me.”

His words arrowed straight to her heart. “Well,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around him, “you came to the right place.”

“Okay if I stay for what’s left of the night?”

Nodding, she snuggled against him, deeply touched that he had come to her when he was so obviously hurting. What did vampires worry about, she wondered. They were, in a manner of speaking, at the top of the food chain. Other than vampire hunters, they had nothing to fear. They didn’t get sick. They didn’t get old. Most of the troubles and ills of the mortal world had little effect on them. So, what was bothering him? Maybe, in time, he would trust her enough to confide in her.

Holding Sheree close, Derek listened to her thoughts. It surprised him that she had accepted the truth of what he was so easily. Perhaps it was because she had been convinced vampires existed. Whatever the reason, being with her was just what he needed.

He held her all through the night, content to be at her side while she slept, to stroke her hair and her skin, to breathe in her scent. For once, her nearness didn’t spark his hunger. Instead, her presence soothed him.

He stayed until the first faint rays of the sun touched the sky.

Derek wasn’t surprised to find his mother waiting for him when he got home. “This is getting to be a habit,” he noted sourly. “Are you gonna tuck me in?”

“There’s no reason for you to feel guilty about what happened to your father,” she said. “None of it was your fault. You’re not responsible for what I did, or for what others have done in the past. But if you need to blame someone, then blame me.”

“I want to see his grave.”

Mara stared at her son. She hadn’t been surprised by much in her long life, but his request caught her completely off guard.

“Well?” he asked.

“I’ll take you tomorrow night.”

In the morning, Sheree wondered if she had dreamed the whole thing—Derek’s unexpected revelation of the night before, sleeping in his arms.

Vampire.

Her hand flew to her neck. Had he bitten her again while she’d slept?

Jumping out of bed, she ran into the bathroom. Staring into the mirror, she turned her head back and forth, relieved when there were no telltale marks. But then, there hadn’t been any marks the last time, either.

Gazing at her reflection, she wondered why his news hadn’t frightened her last night, because she was plenty frightened now. What to do? As if in answer to her question, she heard his voice in the back of her mind, warning her not to invite vampires into her house. Good advice, she thought dryly. Only it had come too late!

Slipping on her robe, she went downstairs, then paused at the bottom. What if he was still in the house? She wasn’t ready to face him again, not until she’d had time to think, something she couldn’t seem to do clearly when he was around. But there was no sign of him anywhere.

“The least he could have done was say good-bye,” she muttered, even as she told herself she didn’t care. Attractive or not, he was a vampire and that was the end of it. So why was she missing him?

Feeling foolish, she went to the front door and said firmly, “Derek Blackwood, you are no longer welcome in my home.”

As soon as she spoke the words, she felt an odd tremor in the air around her and knew, in some ancient primal way, that it had worked.

Relieved, she went into the kitchen. She had just put the coffee on when the doorbell rang. She felt a rush of excitement, then chided herself for expecting to find Derek on her doorstep. Everyone knew vampires weren’t out and about during the day.

Opening the door, she was surprised to find Mara standing on the porch. Clad in a bright red sweater and white jeans, with her black hair falling like a cloud of silk over her shoulder, Derek’s sister was as beautiful as she remembered.

“I’m sorry to be here so early,” Mara said. “But I had a fight with Logan and I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“No, it’s fine. Please come in.”

“Thank you.” Mara felt a tremor as she crossed the threshold. Even after all these centuries, it still amazed her that something as mundane as a threshold had the power to repel her. Fortunately, humans couldn’t feel it unless they were revoking an invitation.

“I was just about to make breakfast,” Sheree said. “Can I fix you something?”

“No, thank you, I’ve eaten,” Mara said, following her into the kitchen.

“Please, sit down,” Sheree invited, gesturing at a chair. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“Not now, thanks.”

With a nod, Sheree scrambled a couple of eggs and slid them onto a plate, then carried it and her coffee cup to the table and took the seat across from Mara’s.

“I’m sorry you had a fight,” she said. “I hope it was nothing serious.”

“Not really.” Mara hesitated a moment, then said, “You must have questions.”

“Questions?” Sheree asked, frowning.

“About Derek. He told me he’d talked to you.”

“Oh. Yes.” So it hadn’t been a dream.

“You’re worried about the vampire thing.”

Sheree nodded.

“How do you feel about him now?”

“I’m not sure. I’m a little bit . . .” She paused, then sighed. “I’m afraid of him. Not him, exactly, but what he is. I’ve seen how strong he is, and . . .” She lifted one shoulder and let it fall.

“You’re wondering if it’s dangerous to be with him? And you’re worried about the blood thing, afraid he might bite you.”

“He said he’s already tasted me, but I’m afraid he might . . . you know. I mean, I don’t want to be a vampire.”

“I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about,” Mara said, covering Sheree’s hand with her own. “Derek would never hurt you, or turn you against your will. What else did he tell you?”

“Oh, about hunters and how to protect myself and . . .” She shook her head. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. Anyone else would think I was crazy. Has he ever . . . ever . . .”