Dead Sexy

The Speedster pulled up to the curb and parked. The lights went out, the engine stopped, and the door opened.

Regan grabbed her handbag and got out of the car, only then remembering she hadn't left any lights on in her apartment. "Stop being such a coward," she muttered as she went up the stairs. "You're a vampire hunter and a werewolf. What is there to be afraid of?"

Even as she told herself there was nothing to worry about, she pulled her gun out of her handbag. Better safe than sorry.

Turning down the corridor, she saw a tall, dark shape standing in front of her door.

"Nothing to worry about," she muttered as she aimed at the figure. "Right."

"Are you going to shoot me?"

"Santiago!" she exclaimed. "Damn you! You scared me out of a year's growth! What are you doing here? Why aren't you dancing with your redhead? Oh!" She clapped her hand over her mouth, horrified by what she had said and the unmistakable note of jealousy in her voice.

Shouldering her way past Santiago, she unlocked the door and hurried inside, her cheeks burning.

She bit down on her lower lip when she heard the door close behind her. She knew, without looking, that he had followed her into the room.

Her whole body tingled with awareness as she dropped her handbag on the coffee table and laid her gun beside it. He was here instead of with the redhead.

Heart pounding, she slowly turned to face him. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Do I need a reason?"

"So, you just came here because you had nothing better to do?" she prodded, thinking that if he said he had come for his car, she would smack him.

"I came because I wanted to see you." He took a step toward her. "I came because I saw you with another man and I wanted to rip his heart out." Another step. "I came because I missed you."

She let out a long, shuddering sigh. "Oh."

His arm curled around her waist. "I came because I hoped you missed me."

Her skin tingled where his hand rested on her hip. "Where's your dinner date?" she asked, pleased when her voice didn't tremble. "And what were the two of you doing in a restaurant, anyway? And how did she get past the barrier?"

"So many questions," he chided. His gaze moved over her face, as warm and tangible as a caress.

"Are you going to answer them?"

"An answer for a kiss."

Her heartbeat quickened.

He ran the tip of his finger over her lower lip. "Do we have a deal?"

Dry-mouthed, she could only nod.

Holding her gaze with his, he lowered his head and claimed her lips in a long, lingering kiss. When it was over, he said, "I took her home."

She nodded, and he kissed her again, his tongue exploring the depths of her mouth. "I was at the restaurant because you were there."

She wasn't sure she would survive another kiss like the last two, but she was willing to take a chance. He saved the best for last. If there had been an award for best kiss of the century, he would have won it, hands down.

When he took his mouth from hers, she felt as if he had taken a part of her soul as well.

"As for how Tatiana got past the barrier," he said, his voice low and husky with desire, "she does not reside in the park."

Regan stared up at him, all interest in the red-haired woman forgotten. Rising on her tiptoes, she pressed her lips to his, certain she would expire on the spot if he didn't kiss her one more time.

He pulled her up hard against him, so close that she couldn't tell where he ended and she began.

His mouth on hers did wonderfully magical, amazing things. She felt as if her feet had left the ground, as if she were flying through a rainbow world where colors had taste and substance and she was alive as never before. His hands cupped her bu**ocks, holding her fast. Feeling the heat of his desire fanned her own.

She moaned a soft protest when he took his mouth from hers, gasped with pleasure as his tongue traced the curve of her ear, then blazed a trail to the soft, tender skin along the side of her neck. The prick of his fangs came as a surprise, but not an unwelcome one.

A soft exclamation of sensual pleasure rose in Santiago's throat as he sipped the sweet nectar of her life force. The hunger rose up within him, demanding more, demanding that he take it all. She was sweet, so sweet; surely, if he drank his fill of the ambrosia in her veins, he would never be plagued by his hellish thirst again.

Lifting her into his arms, he carried her into the bedroom and stretched out beside her on the bed. He kissed her and caressed her until she was again pliant in his embrace and then he drank from her again, and again.

It wasn't until he realized her heartbeat was fluttering unevenly that the enormity of what he was doing penetrated the haze of pleasure that engulfed him. Rearing back, he stared down at her face. She was pale, so pale. What had he done?

"Regan? Regan!" Taking hold of her shoulders, he shook her. "Regan! Answer me."

Her eyelids fluttered open and she looked up at him, her gaze dreamy and unfocused.

Santiago swore. Bolting from the bedroom, he went into the kitchen, quietly cursing himself for what he had done. He found a glass, filled it with grapefruit juice, and carried it back to the bedroom. Sliding his arm beneath her back, he lifted her to a sitting position. "Drink, Regan."

"Sleepy…"

"No, you must drink." He held the glass to her lips. "Drink, dammit!"

Startled by his gruff tone, she did as he asked.

When the glass was empty, he lowered her down to the bed, then returned to the kitchen. She needed sustenance, but what? He hadn't eaten food in hundreds of years and had no idea how to prepare most of the foodstuffs he found in the refrigerator or the cupboard. A sandwich, he thought. He had watched enough television commercials to know how to prepare a sandwich.

Moments later, he returned to the bedroom carrying a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a glass of milk.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he shook her gently. "Wake up, Regan. You must eat."

"Not hungry. Sleepy…"

Once again, he slid his arm beneath her. He coaxed her to eat and drink, all the while cursing himself for his selfishness. But for the blood of the werewolf in her veins, she would have died and it would have been all his fault. He had to be more careful in the future. She was far too tempting, and his resistance was far too weak where she was concerned.

When she finished eating, he gathered her into his arms and cradled her against his chest, frightened by how close he had come to losing her forever.