Dead Perfect

Speaking to her mind, he told her to forget what had happened and remember only that she had, on impulse, gone to the movies.

He returned home quickly and was sitting on the sofa when Shannah descended the stairs.

She was lovely, as always. Her hair fell down her back in waves of black silk, her eyes were bright, her smile warm. She wore a pair of white jeans that clung to her like a second skin and a green sweater that flattered every feminine curve.

“I’m going to fix something to eat,” she said. “Are you sure you won’t join me…oh, I keep forgetting.” She frowned at him. “Why do you eat alone? Are your table manners that bad?”

He laughed softly. “What are you going to fix, breakfast or dinner?”

She frowned. “Well, since this is now going to be my morning, I guess I’ll fix breakfast. Most important meal of the day, you know. Are you sure you won’t change your mind?”

“Not tonight. I think I’ll write for a while,” he said. “We can go out later, if you like.”

“I’d rather stay home. I’m feeling a little tired.”

He looked at her sharply, wondering if it was time to give her a little more of his blood.

“I’m all right,” she said. “It’s just going to take a little while to get used to these hours.”

With a nod, he left the room and went down the hall to his office. Sitting at his desk, he fired up the computer and pulled up his latest work in progress, then he sat back in his chair and stared at the screen, wondering how long he could keep her from finding out who and what he was, and what she would do when she discovered the truth.

And then there was Jim Hewitt, vampire hunter, to consider. It was obvious the man was hunting him. Sooner or later, he would have to confront Hewitt. Most likely, he would have to kill him.

With a shake of his head, he put everything else from his mind and tried to focus on his story, but to no avail. He was all too aware of the woman in the kitchen. Her presence filled his senses. Each breath he took carried the scent of her hair, her skin, her blood, the light flowery fragrance of her perfume, the strawberry scent of her shampoo.

His heart beat in time with hers. His fangs pricked his tongue. His hunger, so recently fed, stirred to life once more. She was here, under his roof.

She was mortal.

She was prey.

He listened to her footsteps as she moved around the kitchen, the swish of cloth against her skin, the clink of dishes as she set the table, the sound of running water, the sizzle of bacon frying in a pan.

And his hunger grew.

Cursing softly, he rose and shut the door, hoping that would help, but to no avail. Had he been blind and deaf, he could have found her in the bottom of a well at midnight. He had taken her blood and given her his. There was a bond between them that could not be broken so long as she lived, a bond that called to him relentlessly, urging him to drink deeply, to drink it all and then give it back to her. To do so would heal her once and for all. It would make her what he was, a creature of the night. Undead. A vampire.

Once again, he reminded himself that she had come to him seeking just such a thing.

As he had so often, he wondered if she would want the Dark Trick if she knew that he could give it to her.

Pushing all thoughts of Shannah from his mind, he forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand, frowning as the words that flowed across his computer screen echoed his own internal struggle.

He had been writing for several hours when her knock came at the door.

“Come on in,” he called.

She opened the door and peeked inside. “Am I interrupting?”

“Yes, but it’s a welcome one. I was just about to quit for the night.”

“Good. There’s a movie on TV I’ve been wanting to see. Do you want to watch it with me?”

“Sure.” He saved his work and switched off his computer, then followed her into the living room.

She curled up on the sofa and he sat beside her, scarcely aware of the story being enacted on the screen. His whole being was centered on the woman beside him, each breath she took, each movement she made, each beat of her heart, the way the lamplight shone in her hair, the curve of her cheek, the smooth line of her neck, the pulse that beat in the hollow of her throat.

She laughed at something on the screen and the sound wrapped around his heart like a mother’s love surrounds her child.

He had it bad, he thought ruefully. After more than five hundred years, he was hopelessly, helplessly, in love.

As though feeling his scrutiny, she turned to face him, and he was lost. In five hundred years, he had never wanted a woman as badly as he wanted the fragile creature sitting beside him. He wanted to hold her, protect her, shower her with his love. He intended to do whatever necessary to make her happy. He would grant her anything she wanted, anything she needed, if she would only stay with him as long as she lived. In exchange, he would give her his blood as needed. With him, she would want for nothing.

“Ronan?”

“Hmm?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m Little Red Riding Hood and you’re the Big Bad Wolf.”

“Perhaps because I’d like to devour you.”

She blinked at him, her expression making it obvious that she didn’t know if he was kidding her or not.

“You must know I want you,” he said quietly.

Her eyes grew wide. “Y…yes.”

“And you want me.”

She nodded.

“Tell me what you want.”

Shannah licked her lips, then shook her head. She didn’t know what she wanted.

When he was holding her, kissing her, she was certain she wanted him to take her to bed and make love to her all night long. But now, with his dark gaze holding hers, she wasn’t sure. She didn’t think he would hurt her. Quite the opposite. She was sure he would be a gentle lover, tender and thoughtful, but…she knew it was wrong. It went against everything she had been taught while growing up, both by her parents and her church. And yet, it didn’t seem fair. She was dying and, right or wrong, she didn’t want to die a virgin. Still, did she want to die with the sin of fornication on her conscience?

“Shannah?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know.” Why didn’t he just sweep her into his arms and seduce her? Kiss her until all thought of right or wrong was forgotten? Coward, she thought. If he seduced her, she could secretly revel in his touch and still tell herself it wasn’t her fault…