Книга - Claimed by a Vampire

Claimed by a Vampire
Rachel Lee


He’s her only chance at safety…Independent writer Yvonne is used to taking care of herself. But when she moves into her new apartment and senses a demon watching her every move, she has no choice but to put her life in the hands of a dangerously sexy vampire.Under gorgeous Creed’s powerful protection, Yvonne quickly succumbs to his immortal desire. But can Creed safeguard her from the evil that won’t stop until it claims her for its very own…?The Claiming: One night of passion can last forever…










God, he craved her more than he’d ever craved anyone.

Creed would have liked to launch himself across the room, and take Yvonne to that heaven known only to vampires and their victims. But he certainly wouldn’t do it to a woman who had turned to him for protection.

If this was a test, he teetered on the edge of failing it miserably.

In desperation, he went into his bedroom and locked himself safely within. In here her smell would dissipate. In here he could no longer hear her heartbeat.

Rarely did he retire before dawn, but this night he could do nothing else. He could not afford to think about the delicious morsel lying on his couch.

Trusting him.


Dear Reader,

Another journey into THE CLAIMING was irresistible to me. The notion that vampires themselves can become so enthralled that it’s a matter of life and death for them gave rise to some of the events in this book.

Vampires have a lot of powers, and few weaknesses other than the sun. I skipped the part about the stake to the heart because that’s never appealed to me, but I felt there should be another weakness vampires are prey to, and thus The Claiming.

As you will find in these pages, The Claiming is love raised to the nth degree. No vampire wants it to happen, knowing full well its risks.

In Claimed by a Vampire, I also got to deal with a vampire who once had a wife and children but had to give them up because he had become a threat to them. He never wanted to love again because he had lost so much. Instead he finds himself drawn to a woman, a novelist, who needs his protection and who is also reluctant to become involved.

Each is wounded, one by love too good, and one by love too bad. And the bad love is the one that comes back to haunt them.

Enjoy!

Rachel




About the Author


RACHEL LEE was hooked on writing by the age of twelve, and practiced her craft as she moved from place to place all over the United States. This New York Times bestselling author now resides in Florida and has the joy of writing full-time.




Claimed by

a Vampire

Rachel Lee







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




Chapter 1


Creed Preston sat in the outer office of Messenger Investigations, amusing himself by watching the swirl and flow around him. Jude Messenger had been his friend for years, but only recently had he become comfortable enough to spend a lot of time in Jude’s office, surrounded by mortals like Terri, Chloe and Garner.

It was a vampire thing. He and Jude had cemented a friendship that crossed the final barriers of territoriality that most of their kind felt, often to an extreme degree, when Jude had risked his life to eliminate the evil that had nearly killed Creed’s great-granddaughter.

But spending much time in the company of mortals could still be painful, because they smelled so damned tempting. As the years passed, however, his self-control became easier, and over the past months since Jude had mated with a mortal, Terri, he’d learned he could enjoy their company and control his hunger well enough.

Terri was absent this evening. As an assistant medical examiner, she often had to go out at night to crime scenes. Chloe sat at her desk, wearing her signature punk-cum-stripper getup, her hair dyed black and worn in spikes. She topped the whole image off with enough black eye makeup to keep a cosmetics company in business, and bright red lipstick.

Across from her sat Garner, a gifted demon hunter of about twenty-five, blond and blue-eyed, and casually elegant in a scruffy sort of way. The two of them often argued like siblings.

Creed enjoyed listening to their spats. Once, long ago, he’d had children, and he’d been forced to watch from a distance as they grew old and died. When Chloe and Garner got going, he inevitably grinned and watched the show.

Jude, however, had no such background with kids, and had a great deal less patience.

“Will you two cut it out?” he called from his inner office. “I’m trying to think.”

Both Chloe and Garner fell silent, but continued to shoot fiery looks at one another.

Sitting here, Creed felt more “normal” than he had since his change. Which was probably why he was spending more and more time in this office, as his own job allowed.

He put a hand over his mouth to hide a smile and continued to watch the dagger-staring contest. As usual, Garner wanted to plunge headlong into something dangerous without even grasping how dangerous it was, and Chloe displayed enough common sense to be twice her twenty-five years. And keeping quiet was obviously stressing their self-control.

Jude, his fellow vampire, appeared in the door of his office. As always, he was dressed in a perfectly tailored black silk shirt and slacks. Most vampires preferred black because it helped them blend with the shadows. Creed himself wore black slacks and a black turtleneck sweater. He didn’t share Jude’s taste for finer clothes.

Jude was slightly above average height, three inches shorter than Creed, and right now his eyes, golden from recent feeding, were not quite golden enough. He was irritated or disturbed.

Jude looked at Chloe and Garner. “Have you two concocted a plan for how we’re going to deal with this?”

Neither answered him.

“I thought not,” Jude said, sarcasm edging his tone. “All that arguing and no plan. Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“Because you know us,” Chloe said with a toss of her head. “Look, boss, you ought to just let Garner go do what he wants. Then we won’t have to deal with him anymore.”

“Hey!” said Garner. “How do you know I’m not right?”

“Because you suggested it?” Chloe arched one brow.

Garner glared.

“Enough,” Jude said quietly. That one word quelled them both.

Jude looked at Creed. “I need to go keep an eye on Terri. You want to come?”

“Because of this thing?”

Jude nodded. “She was a doorway last time. She might still be. I don’t know.”

Creed understood. Jude had offered to die permanently to save them all from the thing that had nearly killed Creed’s great-granddaughter, that had attacked Terri, as well. He also understood that no matter how many cops surrounded Terri, none of them would be able to protect her from that kind of threat.

He rose. “Sure.”

He didn’t have to ask Jude how they would find her. Jude and Terri’s relationship was more than a simple mating; it was a claiming. No matter where Terri went now, Jude would be able to find her. And if anything happened to Terri, Jude would probably tear the planet apart before he killed himself.

It was the way of vampires. And the reason most of them tried to avoid a claiming at all costs: inevitably, if something went wrong, death and destruction would result.

But apparently, to judge by the way Jude had claimed Terri despite all the warnings he’d given Creed about it over the years, claiming wasn’t always a choice.

They left the car because they had no need for it. Jude carried the tools of his trade in the pockets of a long leather coat: crucifix, the ritual for exorcism and plenty of holy water. Creed felt a bit uncomfortable with that, but some of his perspectives were undergoing radical changes because of his association with Jude.

They slipped from shadow to shadow too fast for human eyes to see. The most any mortal could have noticed would have been the breeze of their passage.

The city was quieting down though, falling into its late slumber at last, so they didn’t encounter many people.

Each one, though, had a particular, tempting aroma. It was, Creed sometimes thought wryly, like slipping through an aromatic deli but never tasting a single, delicious morsel. With time it got easier, though never easy.

He had vowed a long time ago never to become again that ravenous monster he’d been during the weeks and months after his change. If he ever felt weak, his conscience summoned up a whole banquet of ugly images to remind him of what he had done.

Though sometimes he wondered why he bothered. Humans were so good at doing themselves in, it often felt pointless for him to suppress his own urges, his own hunger.

Jude took them directly to the crime scene. His instincts had guided him to Terri as surely as a homing beacon. Together they mounted a nearby building and watched from the roof. Periodically, Jude lifted his head and sniffed the air to make sure there was nothing unusual about.

From above, both preternatural sight and preternatural hearing allowed Creed to know everything that was going on. Most of it was dull, detail work, and he hardly paid attention. He didn’t really care about the ordinary details of an ordinary murder. Finally, bored, he tuned it out and looked up at the stars.

Despite the city lights, he could see thousands of them, if not millions, thanks to his vision. Sparkling in all the colors of the rainbow and more, they seemed to set the sky ablaze. He loved moonless nights because he could see so many more stars.

For him the night was not leached of color, but instead flooded with it. Things he had never been able to see as a human now filled his eyes with pleasure. Sounds and scents brought him stories of the night that he would never have noticed before.

No, it was not all bad.

“Creed?”

He dragged his gaze from the heavens to look at Jude. “What?”

“Do you smell it?”

Creed drew the night into his lungs, smelling it and tasting it. He paused, then exhaled slowly. “There’s something faint. Something off.”

“It was here. Gone now, but it was here.”

At once Creed’s interest in the goings-on below him returned. He focused on the little hive of human activity, listening and watching.

“Do you think it caused this?” he asked Jude.

“I don’t know. I’ll find out more from Terri. For now though, it’s enough to know it was here.”

“And good reason to stick around Terri until she’s home.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Creed.”

“I don’t know how much good I’ll be if needed.” Then Creed paused. “So, okay, maybe you need to teach me how to deal with this stuff.”

“It would be helpful.”

Creed had never wanted to enter the world where Jude existed, fighting demons and other unseen threats. It had always seemed to him to be a dangerous path full of hidden pitfalls, and he was at heart still the Harvard professor he’d been before his own change. But after what had happened to his great-granddaughter, his opinion had rapidly shifted. Now he’d just offered to jump in with both feet.

Surprising himself, he grinned into the night. Apparently he’d made the decision without realizing it.

He drew another lungful of the night. The abnormal scent was already cataloged in a part of his brain that would never forget it. He would know it again the instant he encountered it anywhere. So he sniffed, checking for it, making sure it didn’t strengthen. For now that was all he could do.

“It doesn’t seem to be coming back,” Jude remarked presently, as the team below them began to pack up, as the body was loaded into a morgue van. “Why don’t you run back to the office, or home if you prefer. I’ll just follow Terri to the morgue to make sure it’s not in the vicinity. Then I’ll get back to the office.”

“What if you find it? I should come, too.”

Jude smiled without humor. “I don’t want to challenge it tonight unless I have no choice. I’m just keeping an eye out.”

“Call me if you need me.” Then Creed straightened and blended away into the night like a shadow.

Being a vampire did have its advantages.

Since it was still several hours before dawn, Creed chose to head back to Jude’s office. He didn’t feel like working tonight, and Chloe and Garner often provided amusement.

He now had his own key card and code to enter, so he got no warning at all when he walked down the darkened hallway and opened the door to Jude’s office. Inside were not only Chloe and Garner, but another young woman, maybe thirty.

And the minute he stepped through the door, her scent hit him like a speeding train. Instant hunger, almost overwhelming, slammed him, followed by a near-intoxication. He froze, never having experienced such a strong reaction before, and fought for his self-control. No morsel had ever smelled so good to him.

“Hi, Creed,” Chloe said.

He couldn’t even answer her. Instead he stared at the young woman who sat beside Chloe’s desk. Blonde, her hair falling loose from a chignon as if the wind had ripped at her. Wearing a white wool dress that hinted at a lovely figure. Her face might have been painted by an artist trying to capture the beauty of an angel, her eyes a green so bright they almost seemed to glow.

But it was her scent that punched him, held him rigid in the hell between hunger and self-control.

“Creed?” Chloe said.

With an extreme effort, he dragged his gaze from the woman and looked at Chloe. “Hi,” he managed.

“This is Yvonne Depuis. She’s here to see Jude. Do you know when he’ll be back?”

“I’m not sure. He wanted to make sure Terri made it safely back to the morgue.”

“Morgue?” Yvonne Depuis’s eyes widened.

“Terri is a medical examiner,” Chloe said swiftly. “She’s been out at a crime scene.”

“Who is Terri?”

“Jude’s … wife,” Chloe answered, shading the truth a bit.

“Oh.” Yvonne tried a smile. The way the corners of her mouth trembled called to Creed. He had to force himself to cross the room and sit on the couch as if nothing at all was happening, certainly not the momentous response inside himself.

“This is silly,” Yvonne said to Chloe. “Everyone’s going to laugh at me.”

“Honey,” Chloe said, “around here we don’t laugh at anything except Garner.”

From his corner of the room, Garner snorted.

“Okay, then you’ll think I’m nuts.”

“We don’t do that, either,” Chloe said, sending a significant look to Creed. Just as he wondered what she meant, she added, “Do we, Creed?”

“Um, no.” From Chloe’s look he could tell he was required to elaborate, so he said, “At least not since my … relative was attacked by a demon, I certainly don’t laugh.”

Yvonne turned in her chair and looked at him. “Really?”

“Really,” he answered grimly, and wished she’d look away because, well, he was getting perilously close to losing the battle with his natural instincts.

What the hell was wrong with him? Maybe he should just bail now and go home to work. It would be the safer alternative. But as he stared at the blonde something else struck him.

“Do I know you?”

He was horrified to see her blush faintly, because that rising blood in her cheeks called to him like water in a desert.

“I, uh, I saw you once,” she admitted. “You were on your way out of the building as I was walking up. I think that was when I was thinking about buying the condo there.”

Now he remembered. The briefest moments in passing as he left his building, moving as fast as possible while pretending to be human, to avoid noticing anyone, to avoid the kind of neighborly contact that could create problems. He could easily have missed her scent, if the wind was right and he was going the other way. “Did you buy it?”

“Yes.” She furrowed her brow a bit. “Don’t you own one of the penthouses?”

Something in him stilled. She had troubled to find out where he lived, which meant her interest was more than passing. He needed to keep an eye on her. “Yes,” he said after a moment. “The topmost.”

She nodded. “Nice to meet you, neighbor.” Then she turned back to Chloe.

He wasn’t sure this was nice at all, not when he considered how hard he worked to make certain his neighbors just plain didn’t notice him.

He had put out the cover story that he was a reclusive intellectual with a medical problem who worked odd hours on papers for an international relations think tank, all of which was true except for the recluse part. Of course, being a vampire could be considered a medical problem.

He made sure to be seen leaving by way of the lobby once in a while, and coming back the same way so questions wouldn’t be asked, he had food delivered which he then carted out in smaller quantities to a food bank, and his blood deliveries sailed in safely under the banner of his “medical problem.”

But why had she asked about him, based on one small glimpse of him leaving the building?

He stared at her back and wished Jude would hurry up. He had questions now about this woman, and they were questions he could not ask. But Jude could, without making her suspicious.

The phone rang and Chloe answered. “Hi, Jude! When will you be back? You’ve got a client waiting. Okay. I’ll tell her.”

Chloe hung up and smiled at Yvonne. “He says fifteen minutes, max.”

Creed wished he could see more than the back of Yvonne’s head. Could feel more than uneasiness and a strong desire to pounce. Her aroma kept wafting his way, and only curiosity kept him from going home now to get out of the range of temptation.

And only self-restraint kept him glued to the couch. Finally, desperate, he announced, “I need some air,” and walked out. He waited outside on the quieting night street in the cold autumn air, impervious to the temperature.

And then Jude emerged from the shadows. Creed had heard his approach, though no mortal ever would have.

“What’s up?” Jude asked.

“Your new client.”

Jude came to stand beside him. “What?”

“She lives in my building, just moved there.”

“Okay.”

“And she knows where I live even though she claims to have seen me only once.”

“That made you suspicious.”

It wasn’t a question, which Creed appreciated. “You know the profile I keep. Of course it made me suspicious. She shouldn’t have noticed me enough to be curious. All I did was pass her quickly on my way out one night.”

“Well, some humans do feel an instinctive fascination.”

“Maybe. But then she turns up at your office.”

Jude nodded. “Consider me on guard. Maybe you should go home.”

“I’m curious. But her scent …”

Jude suddenly laughed. “Okay. I understand that one. Terri’s scent about drove me nuts. Can you handle it long enough to satisfy your curiosity?”

“I’ll have to. If you see her in confidence, you can’t tell me a damn thing.”

“Then come on. Let’s go get our answers.”

“But not for long. Crap. Now I’m blowing my cover as a medically troubled recluse.”

“We can take care of that, too. But first let’s find out what’s going on.”

Creed followed him inside, his step heavier than usual.

Inside, Jude shook hands with Yvonne Depuis and invited her into his inner office. Sometimes Creed thought Jude had been born suave, but he’d also seen Jude’s other side—impatient and occasionally cranky. On leaden feet, he went into Jude’s office with them, and took a chair as far away from Yvonne as space allowed.

“Mr. Preston,” Jude explained to Yvonne, “consults with me as his health allows, so I’m sure you don’t mind if he stays with us while we discuss your problem.”

Good going, Jude, Creed thought.

Yvonne shot another glance at Creed and again colored. “No, of course not. Might as well have the entire world think I’m crazy.”

“We don’t often think that around here,” Jude said soothingly. He pulled a piece of paper in front of him and picked up a pen. “What brought you to Messenger Investigations?”

“A friend of mine is on the police force. She said you have a reputation for dealing with weird stuff.”

Jude smiled. “So we do. Who recommended us? I like to thank people for referrals.”

“Detective Matthews.”

“Ah, Pat. A very nice lady.”

“She taught a criminology course I took a number of years ago and we became friends.”

“You’re in the police, too?”

Yvonne shook her head. “Not my cup of tea. I was just curious about law enforcement. I’m a writer. I’m curious about a lot of things.”

Jude nodded, scribbling something. “And the problem that brought you to us?”

Yvonne bit her lower lip. Creed inevitably thought about how he’d like to bite it for her. He had to close his eyes for a moment.

“It’s so hard to explain.”

“But you managed to tell Pat about it.”

A tremulous sigh escaped her and she managed another nod. “Okay. I moved into my condo about a week ago. And since I did, well, it’s hard to explain. I’ve never felt like this before. But I feel continually watched. Never alone. Every single minute I’m there. And then some things got moved around and I know I didn’t move them.”

“So you think someone may be getting in?”

“I don’t know. I mean that feeling of being watched … If someone was there, I’d know it. The condo’s not big enough for someone to really hide for long. But no one’s ever there. Frankly, I don’t even want to be alone in my own home, and it’s only been a week. The feeling is getting stronger. At first I thought it was just being in a new place, but if that was the case, it would be wearing off, wouldn’t it? And things being moved …” She shook her head and released a heavy sigh. “I can’t afford to move out now. I just bought the place. So I have to find out what’s wrong.”

“I agree,” Jude said. “Whatever it is that’s making you feel this way, we need to get to the bottom of it.”

“So you don’t think I’m just crazy?”

“Not likely. I think Creed will concur, when one feels watched, there’s usually someone watching.”

Creed cleared his throat. “Studies would seem to bear that out.”

“God.” Yvonne shuddered. “How could that be?” Then she appeared to have a thought. “Maybe it’s that creep of an ex-boyfriend of mine. Maybe he did something to my computer. He could be watching me day and night.” She scowled. “I wouldn’t put it past him, considering all the weird things he seems to get into. Stalking me? Yes, he’d be capable of it.”

“We’ll check it out along with other possibilities,” Jude said. “I want to examine your apartment very closely. I’ll need to gather some equipment first, though. When would be a good time?”

“Any time,” she said vehemently. “Now, tomorrow, I don’t care when. I work at home. Or I do when I’m not creeped out. Just tell me when.”

“Tomorrow night,” Jude said. “And I’m going to have Creed here accompany you home and check out your apartment before he goes to his own.”

Creed found it almost impossible to maintain a straight face. Alone with that woman in her apartment? Had Jude just lost his mind? But Jude’s expression revealed nothing. Talk about the ultimate test of self-control.

“Thank you,” Yvonne said, looking at him. “I’d be so grateful.”

Like hell she would, he thought grimly. Whatever or whoever might be watching her, it probably wasn’t nearly as big a threat to her as a vampire who craved her blood.

Namely Creed.




Chapter 2


Yvonne was acutely aware of Creed following her in his big black SUV as she drove back home. But then she’d been acutely aware of him since first she’d seen him, that day she decided to buy the condo. Maybe she had even made the decision because of him.

God, wasn’t she too old for a crush? Evidently not, because one sight of Creed Preston had engraved him indelibly in her mind. He was handsome, with an elegant build. He moved like an athlete, and the gold color of his eyes was striking. Like a tiger’s eyes, she thought.

And something about him struck her as dangerous, but not in a bad way. How weird was that? Maybe it was his tiger’s eyes.

But not even for long could she distract herself with thoughts of a silly schoolgirl crush, and how ridiculous that was in a woman of thirty-two. She was heading home again, heading to that place she called home anyway, a place that not even for one instant seemed welcoming anymore. In one short week she had come to wish that she’d noticed that feeling of being watched before she had bought the place. Because now all she wanted was to get out of it. Fast.

She pulled into her slot in the building’s parking garage and waited while Creed pulled into his. The penthouse slots were nearer the elevator, hardly surprising. When he climbed out, she felt again his extraordinary impact and wondered why she responded that way.

His smile was nice, too, even if it looked a bit forced. He used his own key to open the elevator then waved her in ahead of him. He seemed to her to hesitate, but only for a split second, before entering the car with her. She must have imagined it.

“Which floor?” he asked, reaching for the buttons.

“Twenty-fourth.”

He punched the button, then leaned back against the far wall, not looking at her. Indeed, he almost seemed to hold his breath.

Was she that repulsive to him? She knew she looked rather mousy, in fact it was an appearance she mostly cultivated in order to be left alone, but she didn’t think she stank. Had nervousness outworn her deodorant or something?

Irritated, she glanced away from him and watched the floors tick by. The ride seemed unusually long, and when finally the doors opened, she stepped out quickly and turned to face him.

“Look,” she said, her tone a little sharp, “I don’t want to inconvenience you any more. I’ll just deal with it tonight and wait for Mr. Messenger tomorrow.”

He straightened, pulling away from the car wall, and held out an arm so the elevator doors wouldn’t close. “I’m sorry?”

“Well, I can tell you’d rather be elsewhere. Clearly something about me repels you.”

Both his brows lifted. Then he astonished her with a laugh. “You’ve got that exactly backward.”

“What?” Now she felt confused.

“Nothing about you repels me,” he said flatly. “Quite the contrary. And I insist on checking out your apartment. Jude wants me to, I’m concerned about what you’re feeling, and if possible, I’d like to experience it, too. Unless you really do want to go back there by yourself tonight?”

Her jaw dropped a little. Had she totally misread him? His body language had definitely made her feel that he wanted to be away from her. But he’d told her the exact opposite was true. What was she to believe?

Finally, she managed a shrug and let him follow her to her door. Pat had recommended Jude Messenger, and Jude had vouched for Creed, so there was absolutely no reason on earth to suspect this man of anything except a desire to help her.

She must be too stressed, must be reading things wrong. Certainly she was short on sleep.

She swiped the key card at her door and pushed it open.

And the minute she stepped inside she felt it. Only now it was stronger than the sense of being watched. It was as if something dark loomed over her, threatening her. “Oh, God,” she whispered.

“Stay here,” Creed said. “Keep the door open.” He slipped past her into her condo.

As if she could have moved anyway. The sense of a presence overwhelmed her. The air thickened with menace, and it was stronger than she’d ever felt it before. She would not, could not, walk farther inside.

She waited with a hammering heart, straining to hear, but hearing nothing. Then, almost too quickly to be believed, Creed reappeared.

“Nothing?” she asked, knowing damn well it was something.

“I wouldn’t say that.” He pulled his cell phone from a belt clip and pressed a button. “Jude? That thing? It’s been here. Recently. Yes, I can smell it.”

“What thing?” Yvonne asked, barely able to whisper the words because her heart was pounding so hard she couldn’t seem to get enough air.

Creed didn’t answer her. “Okay,” he said, then put away his phone. When he did, he looked at her.

“Can you handle a few more minutes?”

“Why?”

“Because I want to search your apartment.”

A shudder ripped through her. “For what? You’d have seen anyone who was there.”

“I need to look for some other stuff. And that brings me to your options.”

“What options? I don’t have any.” Some part of her hated the weakness and fear she heard in her own voice.

“You can stay at a hotel tonight, or you can stay at my place. I have a decent couch you can use. But I have to warn you, if you stay with me.”

“Warn me about what?” She was having trouble absorbing all this. What had he sensed? She needed answers. Her brain was still stumbling over the fact that he had smelled something, something he referred to as that thing. How could she decide what she should do tonight when she had no idea what she faced?

“I’m … ill,” he said. “My skin reacts badly to bright light. I won’t bore you with the medical stuff, but suffice it to say that at dawn I lock myself in my bedroom and I don’t come out again until dusk. I can’t. So if you stay with me, I can offer protection only for a few hours. After that, you can stay as long as you like but don’t come back here.”

She nodded slowly, feeling punched, her thoughts scrambling. She didn’t want to accept favors from Creed Preston—or anyone for that matter—but she couldn’t bear the thought of being alone given what she was feeling right now. What if this thing, whatever it was, could follow her?

Her mind stuttered to a halt, then focused on the one certainty in her life, the one thing she loved beyond all else. Her thoughts seized on it as an anchor, stilling. “Can I at least have my laptop? So I can work?”

“I’ll get it. Anything else?”

She thought of nightclothes, a change of clothing. Did she want him pawing through her things? But did she want to be stuck in what she was wearing forever? “I need to come in. I need a change of clothes.” She hated that she could hear fear and reluctance in her own voice. This was her own condo, for Pete’s sake. She couldn’t even begin to sort through the welter of emotions that reminder caused her. Afraid to go into her own home? Afraid to spend just a few minutes packing? But her feet felt glued to the floor.

He hesitated. “No,” he said finally. “No. I’ll get them. Trust me, I was married once, and had daughters, and I’ll treat your things with respect. And I won’t see anything I haven’t seen before.”

The thought of walking farther into that miasma, into that threatening heaviness, forced her answer. “There’s a suitcase on the shelf in the closet.”

He nodded. “Step outside. You’ll feel better.”

She followed his direction and discovered that indeed, just a few steps away from her door, she felt better. Now how was that possible? The question was almost enough to make her walk back into her apartment. Almost.

But the memory of the feeling that had slapped her the instant she crossed the threshold proved stronger than any desire to check it out. She knew she hadn’t imagined it. Her imagination ran almost entirely to the books she wrote, and rarely affected what she considered to be an otherwise pragmatic view of life.

At least she hoped it was. She hoped the fantasies she spun for her readers weren’t beginning to affect her brain.

No, of course they weren’t. For heaven’s sake, she knew the difference between her imagination and reality. The two only met on the pages on her computer screen.

Suddenly from within her condo, she heard a bang. Instantly she forgot everything else and started back in. One step. Two steps. Then she froze as a blackness seemed to wrap oily tendrils in her brain. No. No!

She tried to back up, but couldn’t. It was as if some force tried to drag her forward, deeper within her condo, away from the relative safety of the hall.

And that noise. Something not quite curiosity, something almost like compulsion, wanted to drag her toward it. Feeling almost like a stranger within her own head, she sought the only thing she could to break the spell or whatever it was. She called out, “Creed? What happened?”

Her voice sounded odd, as if it had emerged from the depths of the ocean. But that was impossible. Her ears hummed. Maybe the loud noise had dulled her hearing for a few seconds. That had to be it.

“Something fell.” He sounded far away, as if calling to her from the bottom of a well. “It’s fine.”

Then, released by whatever had tried to seize her, she backed quickly into the hallway. What the hell was going on? What had she just felt? The only comparison she could come up with was being hypnotized, and she wasn’t even sure about that.

Creed emerged from her condo a few minutes later carrying her laptop in its case with all her peripherals, and her suitcase, along with a manila envelope. Apparently he thought of everything.

“If I missed something, you can tell me after we get to my place and I can come back for it.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this. Are you sure I won’t be a problem?” What was she doing? She ought to go to a hotel, take care of herself. Could she seriously be proposing to burden someone else? But right now she was more terrified of being alone. Especially after what she had just felt.

“Hardly,” he said with a shrug.

“What fell?” she asked as they waited for the elevator.

“A pewter plate. It’s fine.”

She knew exactly the plate he meant. “There’s no way that fell!”

“Okay, it flew at me.”

She opened her mouth to tell him to quit kidding when she read his expression. He wasn’t kidding. “Oh, my God,” she breathed.

He shrugged. “I guess it didn’t like me being there.”

“What didn’t like you being there? Creed, for heaven’s sake! Are you joshing me? Did it really fly at you?”

“Heaven has nothing to do with this. It flew at me. And that’s another reason you’re not going back to that place.”

“Are you okay?”

“Minor bruise. I’m fine. But I can’t promise you will be if you go back there.”

She felt almost dazed, trying to grasp that that heavy plate could have flown at him, but despite her distraction and confusion she noticed he didn’t hesitate to enter the elevator car with her this time. So maybe she had indeed misread him earlier.

But even that couldn’t keep her attention now. Considering what she had felt when she entered her condo this time, it was all too easy to believe in flying plates. For the first time she was truly grateful that she could stay with him that night. Whatever was going on in her place had just magnified to truly scary proportions, and even a hotel room didn’t sound like a safe place right now.

His condo took her breath away. Two long walls of glass gave an eagle’s eye view of the night city. The living area was entirely open, punctuated only by a bar that divided the kitchen from the rest. And it was full of color, rich colors and textures that made it seem almost jewel-like but not at all garish.

“This is beautiful!” she exclaimed.

“Glad you like it. When you live most of your life at night, color is essential.”

“That must be hard for you.”

She noted he didn’t answer directly. Most likely, she decided, he didn’t care to discuss his problem. Most certainly not with someone he’d just met.

His sidestep was almost seamless. “Do you want to work tonight? I can clear a space on my desk.” He gestured to a table that held a computer in front of one of the windows.

“Not tonight. I couldn’t possibly concentrate. What do you do?”

“I’m a consultant for a foreign relations think tank.”

She looked at him again. “That’s impressive.” And it was. But he seemed to shrug it away.

“Before I got sick, I taught at Harvard,” he answered. “I’m glad I was able to find an alternative that fits within my limitations.”

She nodded, sweeping her gaze over the room again. “You certainly have a good eye. I can only dream of making my place look half this good.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I’m not much of a visual person. I mean, I can see something and know I like it, but putting it together with other things to get an effect like this is beyond me.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m more the verbal type.”

“That’s what they make decorators for.” But he was smiling. “Let me show you where everything is.”

The penthouse contained every luxury. There was a bath off to one side, sumptuous in its trappings, with a whirlpool tub and a shower both. Fluffy towels that looked brand-new hung from the racks.

“I never use this,” he said. “I have my own off the master bedroom. I have a second bedroom, but I never got around to furnishing it, which is why I have to offer you the couch.”

“The couch is fine, really. It looks comfortable.”

“I’ll get the sheets and blankets for you.”

“Wait,” she said as he turned away. He paused to look at her, and she felt a frisson of excitement as his golden gaze settled on her. God, he had an intense stare. And his nostrils flared just a bit, as if he were testing the scents in the air.

“Yes?”

“What exactly did you sense in my apartment? What thing were you referring to?”

This time there was no way to mistake his hesitation. “You’d need to ask Jude that, honestly. But you know he deals in the unusual. The stuff that most people don’t begin to want to deal with.”

“The paranormal.”

“I guess that’s a fair word. Well, there’s something he’s looking for right now. And I smelled it in your condo.”

“Smelled it?”

He nodded. “Think back. I know you were overwhelmed by what you felt, but you probably smelled it, too. It wasn’t exactly faint.”

Now she hesitated, thinking back, feeling an icy prickle along her spine. Had she smelled something? She couldn’t be sure. “All I was aware of was this … this sense of something there, a thickening of the air, a feeling of menace. God, that sounds crazy.”

“Not to me, it doesn’t.” His mouth drew into a grim line. “There are forces we don’t believe in until we meet them face-to-face, Yvonne. I’ve met a few of them. I believe.”

Before she could answer, he turned again. “I’ll make up your bed for you, then I need to work a bit. Most people don’t have enough hours in a day. I never have enough in a night.”

She watched him disappear down the hall, and was abruptly struck by what he had told her about his illness. Imagine never being able to see the day again. Imagine living in a world where light was a threat.

And she thought she had problems? But she couldn’t help shuddering again.

She changed in the bathroom, touched that he had chosen her one pair of modest pajamas rather than one of the more sensual garments she wore to bed just because they made her feel feminine. He’d even packed her slippers and robe.

Stepping back out into the living room, she found the couch transformed into a bed, and Creed was over at his desk, a distance away given the huge size of this room, working only by the light from his computer screen. The only other light was a dim lamp on the side table at the end of the couch where he’d placed a couple of pillows. Once she switched off that light, the room would be in near-darkness, dappled by the city lights that seemed far away for the most part. Dark enough for sleep.

But instead of heading straight toward the bed, she stopped instead to look at the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that framed the entry door, covering nearly the entire wall. They were jammed with nonfiction, some of the books looking as if they were a century or more old. Not a work of fiction among them that she could tell.

Then she came upon a section of classics, from Twain to Hawthorne, to Swift. Plays by Shakespeare, Ibsen and others. And all bore the signs of having been handled often.

She wondered if he was an intellectual snob, then decided that wouldn’t be a fair assessment to make, especially when he’d been so kind to her.

“Do you need something to read?”

His voice was unexpected and startled her. She turned from his bookshelves to find he had swiveled his desk chair and was looking at her.

“Sorry, I was just curious. Few people these days decorate their walls with books.”

He laughed quietly. “Some still do. Most of that is references I need for my work. I’m especially fond of books, and I have a passion for old books. But if you’d prefer something of more recent vintage, I do have some novels lying around. I just don’t tend to keep them. I find they’re welcome donations at nursing homes.”

So he didn’t stick to the classics. That relieved her a bit, given that she wrote popular fiction. She hated people who looked down on her for that, and sometimes reminded them that Dickens was a hack who wrote serials for newspapers, and that Tolstoy had been paid by the word, hence his lengthy volumes. Apparently she wouldn’t need that defense here.

“Thanks, but I was just curious. And I guess I’m edgy.”

“Understandable. Frankly, I’m not sure how you managed to stand a whole week in that apartment.”

She wandered closer, feeling inexplicably drawn to him. Only when she saw him tense a bit did she stop. Was there something wrong with her?

“It got worse,” she said, forcing herself to ignore an unreasoning sense of rejection. “It was awful tonight, the worst ever. When I first moved in I was able to brush the feeling off, but over the week it just kept getting stronger.”

“I’m glad you didn’t come home alone tonight. I’d hate to think of you forcing yourself to walk in there because it was all you could do.”

“I’m not sure I could have.” She found an upholstered chair at what she thought might be a safe distance from him, and sat. “It felt like a gut punch tonight. But you said it wasn’t still there. To Jude, when you called him.”

“But it had been there recently enough to leave its stench and fingerprints everywhere. And apparently it came back long enough to evince disapproval of my presence.”

“But what is it?”

“Jude will have to explain. I’m a relative newcomer to all of this. He has the experience and knowledge.”

“But you said you’ve seen things, and now you believe.”

His eyes seemed to darken, and she wondered if it was some trick of the dim lighting, because for a moment they looked almost black.

“I’ve seen things,” he agreed. “But not this thing. I don’t know anything about it except it has Jude concerned.”

“So he’ll tell me tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow night.”

She felt an unreasoning chill again. “Why night?”

“He suffers from the same problem that I do. So he works only at night.”

“Are you related?”

He shook his head. “Friends. Drawn together by a common experience.”

That made sense, so she let it go. “I’m sorry, I’m interrupting your work. I should just try to sleep.”

“I have surprisingly little interest in work tonight.” He smiled. “Events can be distracting.”

“I’ve gotten very little writing done this week,” she admitted. “It’s hard to work when you feel someone is looking over your shoulder.”

Which, she realized with sudden embarrassment, was exactly what she was doing to him. Basically looking over his shoulder. But as she tried to find a believable reason to go lie on the couch and pretend to sleep when she felt wound as tightly as a spring, he rose.

“Would you like coffee or tea?” he asked. “Or something to eat? I must have something lying around.”

“I’d love coffee if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind in the least.” He walked into the kitchen and pulled a coffeepot out of the cupboard.

He kept his coffeepot in the cupboard? Then he must not drink it often. Everyone she knew kept it in easy reach on the counter. So maybe he was a tea kind of guy.

But he made no tea, and when he returned to the living room, he did so with a coffee service that held only one cup. He politely poured her coffee then let her add what she wanted. “I’m sorry, I have no cream or milk, but I do have sugar.”

“Black is fine, thanks.” Ignoring her desire for a little milk in the coffee, she held the cup in her hands and sipped. “You keep your apartment cold,” she remarked. The contrast between her cold hands and the hot cup caused her to notice.

“Oh. I forgot to turn the heat on.” He at once went to the wall and adjusted the thermostat. “Sorry, I don’t notice the chill much. You should have said something sooner.”

“I just noticed.”

Which was true. But at the same time she found herself wondering what other oddities he had. Most people by this time in the autumn left their heat on all the time.

He was a strange bird indeed, she thought staring down into her cup. Handsome and strange, and the combination intrigued her. Drew her.

She’d never felt particularly drawn to ordinary people. People with quirks, however, were a different matter, and the quirkier the better. That tendency occasionally caused her trouble but she never seemed to learn her lesson.

“You must hate the summer,” she blurted. Stealing a look at him, she saw he had raised one eyebrow.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because the days are longer.”

“Ah. Well, yes, it means my nights are shorter.”

“Does it ever make you crazy, not being able to tolerate the light?”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “Once it did. One adapts, you know. There’s quite a bit of beauty in the night.”

“I’m a bit of a night owl, myself. But I do like a daily dose of sun.” She wondered if the wife and daughters he had mentioned had left him because of his illness, but caught herself before incaution released the question. None of her business. Sheesh, sometimes she forgot how to interact with people because she chose to spend so much time alone in her own little world.

Although he had not in any way indicated it, Yvonne felt she had intruded too much into his life. First by needing to sleep in his living room, and then by engaging him in a conversation when, regardless of what he said, he had clearly intended to work.

She put her cup on the tray. “Thanks for the coffee. I guess I’m getting sleepy after all.”

He rose when she did, a gentlemanly courtesy she had thought long dead. As soon as she slipped between the covers on the sofa, she heard him return to his desk. Moments later the quiet tapping of keys filled the room.

She forced herself to close her eyes and pretend to sleep. To avoid thinking about that awful feeling in her apartment.

And the easiest device for avoiding the awful was to think about an intriguing topic: Creed Preston. She had thought her initial attraction to Tommy was strong, but what she was feeling now was even stronger. Strong enough to be almost jolting. When she glanced his way, the very air seemed to thicken, and her body hummed with a yearning she hadn’t felt in a long time.

But of course, she told herself, that was simply because he was new to her. An unknown. Her fright was probably feeding into it. Adrenaline, she knew, could do odd things to a person.

There was really no point in avoiding it. No one would ever know about the heaviness that settled between her legs when she thought about Creed. It was a secret she could easily keep, and she might as well enjoy it because she had begun to think Tommy had killed that part of her forever.

A short time later, the throbbing heaviness seemed to fill her, and it turned to a drowsiness that captured her and carried her away into a weird dream of Creed Preston. In her dream, every time she stepped toward him he seemed to melt away into shadow.

Creed sat facing his computer, tapping impossibly slowly at the keys in close approximation of a human’s typing rate, until he heard both Yvonne’s heart and breathing slip into the rhythm of sleep. She, of course, would have no idea that she couldn’t pretend to sleep around him, that he could smell the sleep hormones, and even the scent of her earlier desire, quieted now in sleep. Her heartbeat reached him more clearly than his own. He could read her moods and sometimes thoughts from her heart rate and her scents. In an emotional sense, she was nearly an open book, even though he couldn’t read her mind.

When he was sure she had found deep and restful sleep, he deleted the nonsense he’d been typing and shut down his computer. He couldn’t work with her maddening scent in the room. No way. And it was even harder now that he had smelled her sexual response to him.

Locked in an eternal internal struggle between his killer instincts and his determination not to give in to them, he scarcely had room left for complex thought at the moment.

No, he would have liked to launch himself across the room, bite Yvonne before she even awoke, and take her to that heaven known only to vampires and their victims, the place where near-death and sex combined to make a mortal and an immortal one in a way that could never be explained, only experienced.

And once he did, she would always want more.

That was a burden he wouldn’t wish on anyone. Sometimes he saw them, mortals who belonged to vampire cults, who might think that every “vampire” who drank from them was merely playing a game, but who had been drunk from by a real vampire, drunk from sufficiently that the craving to repeat the experience gripped them as surely as cocaine addiction. And as devastatingly.

It was possible to drink only a small amount, to briefly sate the insatiable craving for warm living blood, and leave a mortal pleased but intact, without a perpetual craving for more. But some vampires didn’t bother, and Creed had seen the results in haunted faces in the nightclubs that catered to their fetish, giving themselves too freely and too quickly to strangers in hopes they would again find that rush.

He wouldn’t do that to anyone.

And he certainly wouldn’t do it to a woman who had turned to him for protection. Nor would he appreciate being wanted in that way. After all, he remembered the real love of a real woman, the joys of having a family. Pure lust and addiction would never measure up.

But the craving was so deeply rooted in his nature he could be free of it only in death.

So he sat staring out over the sleeping city and the incredible colors the night held for him, listening to a woman’s heartbeat, and wondering how he had been chosen for this fate.

Because he didn’t believe in accidents. He hadn’t been chosen at random by some hungry vampire. No, he’d been chosen by a woman who knew him, knew he had a family, and had taken him away from them anyway to fulfill her own desires.

No accident that. She could have chosen anyone, but she had wanted him. The irony, of course, was that she had never really gotten him. What she had gotten was a furious newborn vampire who had wanted to kill her when he found out what he had become. A vampire who had never forgiven her for depriving him of every single thing he cared about.

That memory, that fury, had eventually schooled him to contain his needs, desires and drives. And he’d be damned if he would do that to Yvonne, no matter how much he craved her.

But God, he craved her more than he’d ever craved anything since his change.

If this was a test, he teetered on the edge of failing it miserably.

Finally, in desperation, he went into his bedroom and locked himself safely within. In here her smell would dissipate. In here he could no longer hear her heartbeat.

Rarely did he retire before dawn, but this night he could do nothing else. He picked up a novel he had started reading a few weeks ago, and settled in a chair to wait for the prickling on the back of his neck that would warn him of the approach of the sleep of death.

Until then, he could not afford to think about the delicious morsel lying on his couch.

Trusting him.

He had to remember that: she trusted him.

He could not, would not, betray her.




Chapter 3


Yvonne leaned back from her laptop as dusk began to settle over the city, and she realized she was growing increasingly edgy. Edgy at being alone all day in a virtual stranger’s apartment. Edgy that the night might bring some answers to her when Jude arrived. Edgy that she couldn’t just go home and be safe.

Indeed, whatever it was, it had deprived her of that most basic human need: a home.

And Creed, much as he attracted her, was an odd bird indeed. Not just his illness—a quick online search had even given her the name for it—but odd in that while he had food in his fridge, a fridge too clean to be believed, and food in his cupboards, none of it was opened or used. Despite his invitation, she had hesitated to open those packages until hunger drove her to it.

Of course, she might be making too much of it. He might have just had it all delivered, but it did seem odd that not one thing was open except the coffee, and he’d opened that bag last night.

She didn’t know anybody who finished everything in the cupboard before restocking. There was always an open box of cereal, or crackers or something in the cupboard or fridge. Always.

He must be the ultimate clean freak. Or maybe he ate out, and just kept food on hand in case.

She sighed and stretched widely, loosening muscles that had tensed from hours bent over her computer. At least her writing had gone well. Very well.

But with only the sounds of the city to keep her company all day, even though she was not alone, another kind of tension seemed to have crept in. Nothing like the feeling in her condo of course, but tension nonetheless.

A bad feeling loomed over her, and she hated it, especially when all she had to point to was that unnerving sense of not being alone in her condo. Was she losing her mind?

No, she reminded herself. Creed had sensed it, too. And then insisted that pewter plate had been thrown at him. Much as she wanted to dismiss it, she couldn’t. That plate was too heavy to move on its own, nor had it been set in such a way that it could just fall. But every time she told herself he must have been kidding, she remembered the look on his face. He believed it had been thrown. So either he was totally crazy or it was true. Believing him crazy would have been easy except for what she had already experienced herself, especially last night.

Of course, he was beginning to seem a little less like a paragon of sanity, given the state of his fridge. The darn things never looked that clean and his looked as if it had never really been used.

A quiet little laugh escaped her at her own ridiculous thoughts, just as she heard the door behind her open. She swiveled immediately and saw Creed emerge from his bedroom. It was just now dusk, she hadn’t yet turned on any lights, and he appeared like a mysterious figure, almost otherworldly.

“Good evening,” he said.

“Hi.”

“Did your day go well?” He asked the question as he bent to turn on a lamp. Now that he no longer appeared quite so mysterious, she noted that he apparently awoke looking every bit as awake and put together as he had the night before. No sleep-puffed eyes, no helter-skelter hair.

“Fine,” she answered, summoning a smile. “I was just calling it a day on my work.”

“I hope you found enough to eat.”

Which led her to the question that had bothered her all day. “Don’t you ever eat at home? I couldn’t find anything open.”

He paused. “Well, actually, I mostly keep food on hand for guests. I’m no cook and when I want something I just order it. I hope you didn’t hesitate to open things so you could eat.”

“Well, not for long. I got too hungry.”

“Good.”

Suddenly realizing she was being rude, she hopped up from her chair. “You must want your desk back.”

“Not yet. Relax. Jude will probably be here shortly, and I hate to get involved in something and then have to stop.”

She nodded, understanding that feeling well.

He came farther into the living area—almost cautiously, she thought—and settled on an armchair. Was he afraid of frightening her? If anything about him frightened her, it was her attraction to him. It seemed to be growing, and she wished she knew of some way to bridge the distance between them. Of course, that assumed he found her attractive, too. Maybe he didn’t, despite what he had said last night as they were leaving the elevator. He wouldn’t be the first guy to feel that way.

She sighed.

“Something wrong?”

“Other than that I can’t go home? Not a thing.” And not entirely true.

“If anyone can take care of your problem, it’s Jude,” he said firmly.

She wandered closer and sat on the couch, still made up as a bed because she hadn’t been sure whether to fold things up. Folding them up would make more work for Creed if she needed to stay here another night. “You have a lot of confidence in Jude.”

“I’ve seen what he can do. And what it costs him. I have every confidence in him.”

“What does it cost him?”

“What does it cost a homicide detective? Or in Terri’s case, a medical examiner? Some jobs just leave scars.”

She nodded, not knowing how to respond. “I hope I meet Terri eventually.”

“I’m sure you will. She’s a very likable lady. You mentioned writing. What kind do you do?”

“I’m a novelist. I write fantasy, usually.”

“So you create worlds?”

“One mostly. I write a series.”

“Six-legged blue cows?”

She had to laugh. “I try not to jar my readers that way. The trick is making the world seem close enough to the one we live in so that it seems familiar, yet different enough to establish that it is another world.”

“That would be an interesting challenge. Tolkien did it incredibly well.”

“Something to aspire to, certainly. But most of us don’t have the luxury of spending the better part of a lifetime creating one world.”

“His command of the language was impressive, especially. A true storyteller’s voice. I can pick up any of those books, start reading at any point, and become totally absorbed again. Some day you’ll have to tell me one of your titles.”

“Not if you’re going to compare me to Tolkien.”

He smiled, certainly one of the most attractive smiles she’d ever seen. Had her heart skipped a beat? Thank goodness he couldn’t possibly know.

“What makes you so certain I’d be critical?”

“Nobody measures up to Tolkien.”

“Well, if you take that as a given, you don’t need to be concerned, do you?”

“Are you always impeccably logical?”

This time he laughed, a warm, rolling sound. “It’s the job. It creeps into the rest of my life.”

“I never met anyone who worked for a think tank before.”

“Think of it as being a highly paid professor. The job isn’t really very different, except I don’t teach. I spend my nights reading, researching, pondering ideas, putting bits and pieces together into some kind of coherence and insight. Apparently I succeed well enough that they keep on paying me.”

“That’s always a good sign.”

“I generally take it that way.”

Just then his cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his slacks pocket and flipped it open. “Yes, Gray? Send them up, please. Oh, and add them to my always welcome list if you don’t mind. Thanks.”

He closed the phone. “You’ll get your wish to meet Terri. She’s coming with Jude.”

That relieved Yvonne. Jude had struck her as every bit as intense and somehow unnerving as Creed. She understood why Creed unnerved her; she was attracted to him. She didn’t feel at all attracted to Jude, yet he left her subtly uneasy. If Pat Matthews hadn’t recommended him, she probably would have looked for someone else to investigate what was going on in her apartment.

Although she frankly couldn’t imagine who. Calling some paranormal group to come in and tell her she wasn’t imagining it, wave their meters around and claim her condo was haunted, wasn’t her idea of a solution. No, she had to believe that whatever was behind this could be dealt with, no matter the means.

Creed answered the door, admitting Jude and a beautiful young woman with inky black hair and bright blue eyes. A tiny woman, not at all what Yvonne had expected in a medical examiner. Somehow she had thought they must all be big, strong and powerful. So much for stereotyping.

Terri greeted her warmly with a beautiful smile and handshake. Jude was more restrained, and it didn’t escape her notice that he and Creed sat at the far end of the living room, while Terri joined her on the couch, still made up as a bed.

Or that Terri immediately took her hand. “Yvonne, I want you to know something.”

“Yes?”

“I’ve had experiences like the ones you’re having. One of them went on for years when I was a kid.”

“How did you stand it?”

“For a long time I convinced myself I was imagining it. Eventually too much happened to believe that anymore. Things started being moved. It called my name. And one night it ripped the blankets off me.”

Yvonne gasped in horror. “My God! I don’t think I could handle that.”

“It wasn’t a matter of handling it. I was scared to death. I freaked.”

“I would, too. I’m freaked already just by the feeling that something is watching me.”

Terri squeezed her hand as Jude spoke. “We need to deal with it. And we will. But I need your permission to go into your apartment, Yvonne, and bring Garner with me.”

“To set up equipment?”

Jude shook his head. “We have other means. If there’s such a thing as a bloodhound for evil, Garner’s it. He has a gift for sensing these things, and if there’s any way to follow it, he’ll be able to do it.”

Yvonne’s heart started hammering uncomfortably. Why did Creed’s nostrils seem to flare suddenly? There was something weird about these guys. But even as she had the thought, she decided that weird or not, they couldn’t approach the craziness she’d been experiencing for the last week. “What do you think this thing is?”

“A demon,” Jude said.

Yvonne sat stunned. Admittedly over the past week she’d reached the point of considering a not-very-pleasant ghost, but a demon? Her heart skipped several beats, then slammed hard enough to feel. “Demon? I don’t believe in demons! That’s … that’s …”

“I told you,” Creed said quietly. “There are some things you can’t believe in until you meet them.”

Yvonne desperately sought Terri with her eyes and saw both understanding and acceptance there. “Have you met one?”

Terri nodded. “It … almost killed Jude.”

At that point, Yvonne became utterly convinced that someone was lying to her about something. Terri’s hesitation, as if choosing her words carefully. Creed and Jude sitting across the room like a pair of inscrutable twins who didn’t want to get close to her. Not even within arm’s reach. As if they were afraid of her? How could anyone fear her?

She jumped up from the couch and stood where she could face them all, her arms folded as much for self-protection as anything. The edginess she’d been feeling all day seemed to be coalescing, especially around these three. As if they were unwilling to share information. As if … Oh, hell, something about those two men didn’t feel right. Something was off and she couldn’t ignore it any longer.

“How am I supposed to trust you if you keep secrets from me?” she asked. “There’s something you’re not telling me. And you’re acting as if … as if I stink! As if you’re afraid of me.”

Terri answered her. “What makes you think we’re hiding something?”

“I keep getting this feeling that there’s subtext going on and you’re excluding me. Especially,” she added, pointing at Creed, “from you. Your refrigerator looks as if no one lives here. No open food boxes in your cupboard. First you shy from me and then tell me I’m wrong about your reaction. But every time I get near you, you stiffen or back away.”

She gasped, because all of a sudden, so fast she couldn’t believe it had happened, Creed was standing in front of her. “How did you do that?” she whispered.

“It’s easy,” he said tautly. “I’m not afraid of you. I’m afraid of myself.”

Her jaw dropped open. “How … What …?”

Terri came close. “The key to your apartment? Jude and I will leave you to discuss this.”

Creed answered without ever taking his eyes from Yvonne. “She left it on the étagère by the bedroom door.”

How had he remembered that? She hadn’t even remembered that. And why were his eyes no longer golden? Why did they look as dark as the depths of hell?

And why couldn’t she look away from him? It was as if the entire universe had narrowed to his eyes. She barely heard the other two leave.

“Yvonne. I’m going to tell you something. I’m going to tell you because I loathe lying, so once, just once, I’m going to tell you the truth. You’re not going to believe me. And then when you don’t, I’m going to try to make you forget I told you.”

“Why?” Her heart had begun to pound wildly, and she saw his nose flare, his eyes grow even darker. Confusion and inexplicable fright flooded her, yet also mesmerized her. Some force called to her even as instincts tried to tell her to flee.

“Because it’s dangerous to me for you to know. But if I tell you, even if you forget, at some level you’ll know I’ve withheld nothing.”

She wished she could tear her gaze from his, but it seemed impossible. “This doesn’t make sense.”

“It doesn’t have to make sense. It just is. So listen to me very carefully. You won’t believe me, but I’m telling you the truth. I am a vampire.”

“Oh, sure …” But her voice trailed away. The way he looked at her, the change in his eyes. She had the sense that even as they were trying to help her, they were withholding an important piece of the puzzle. The clean fridge. The way he tried to stay away from her. And, just now, the way he had managed to cross the room, one instant in his chair, the very next standing in front of her. Like a magician’s trick.

But mostly it was those dark-as-night eyes. Panic replaced fright. Because she believed him. No proof, nothing except those eyes.

And she believed him. “Oh, my God.” It was a thin whisper.

“So now you know,” he said. Then his voice took on a different timbre. “Forget what I just told you. You don’t need to remember it. I’m no threat to you. So forget.”

She stood there staring at him, her heart racing like a trip hammer. “I won’t forget,” she said finally, little more than a cracked whisper.

And then as if someone had cut her strings, she collapsed on the couch and sat staring at the floor.

He was a vampire. And she believed it.

Now how the hell was she supposed to deal with that?




Chapter 4


Creed stared at her in utter perplexity. Not all humans, of course, were amenable to being vamped. Not every human could be controlled by the Voice. But this one … She believed him. He had been so certain that she would get mad, believe he was telling another lie, or just forget he’d even said it.

Now what the hell was he going to do? And how was it possible she believed so readily what almost no one else in the modern world believed anymore?

He racked his brains, wondering what he had done that had convinced her. Her comments about the food really amounted to nothing. His avoidance of her had been countered by his truthful insistence that he didn’t find her repulsive at all.

He happened to glance toward a glassfronted bookcase and then he knew: his eyes had gone as black as night.

Sighing, he retreated to the far end of the living room and wondered how best to handle this so that whenever Jude cleared her apartment she could go on with her life.

He watched her sitting there all curled in on herself and wondered why people always wanted the truth when the truth so often appalled them. Why couldn’t they just be happy with polite social fictions?

Well, he admitted, most people probably were. But not this one. She’d clearly sensed something, and hadn’t been willing to let it go.

Which left them here and now. He cleared his throat. Slowly she lifted her head and looked at him. She still hadn’t recovered from the shock, and he missed the usual spark in her green eyes.

“I hope,” he said, “that you won’t share my secret.”

“Who would believe me?”

Good question. He chose not to answer directly. “You believed me.”

“After what’s been going on in my condo for a week, I’m ready to believe in almost anything. Why the hell wouldn’t I believe in a vampire?”

“Because almost nobody believes in us anymore.”

She gave a short laugh, absolutely humorless. “Your secret is safe with me. I wouldn’t want to get myself committed. Or wind up on your menu.”

“I told you I won’t hurt you.”

“No? Don’t vampires survive by killing?”

“Not me. Not Jude.”

Her head jerked sharply at that. “Why should you be any different?”

“I guess I still have some human hang-ups.”

Her eyes widened, and he saw with relief that a hint of the spark had returned.

He let her have some silence, some space to think whatever she needed to think about this. Finally she looked at him again. “Jude, too?”

He nodded.

“Terri?”

He shook his head.

“But she’s his wife. How can she not be?”

“He won’t change her. Says he wants to be absolutely certain she knows what she’s getting into.”

Her brow knit. “Are you telling me it’s awful?”

“That depends on what you focus on, and what you’re willing to give up. I didn’t choose this. It was forced on me and cost me every damn thing I cared about. So whether you want to believe it or not, I would never do this to anyone else.”

“Never is a long time.”

“I have a lot of never ahead of me.”

She looked down again, and he let her be. The questions would come when the questions came, and at some point she was going to decide he must have lied. And that thought pained him. Odd that after a century he still needed acceptance for who and what he was, just as he was. He ought to be used to the mess he called his life by now.

“So,” she said finally, looking at him. “Why did you tell me, especially when it could be dangerous to you?”

“Because I get sick of the lies. I hate lying.”

“And you were sure you could make me forget.” Her tone was accusatory.

“Not sure. It doesn’t always work.” He waited, the night minutes ticking by, minutes he hated to waste because he couldn’t extend them by much. But she needed the time to adjust, and he was smart enough to know it.

Little by little she seemed to be relaxing. Adapting. Accepting. He had no idea where that would lead, but it was a vast improvement over the edginess he’d felt in her since he’d awakened this evening.

For the first time since shock had caused her to sag onto the couch, she did more than glance at him. Her gaze met his directly, steadily. Her tone took on an edge of tartness. “This is so very cool. In one day I learn there are demons and vampires both. I am just thrilled.”

Her tone prevented him from taking offense. Indeed, he wouldn’t have blamed her if she’d turned hysterical or accused him of being lying scum. By comparison, this was a mild reaction. “I know it’s hard.”

“Hard?” A short laugh escaped her. “Somehow I think it ought to be harder. But after the past week, I’d probably believe in werewolves, too.”

“Um …” He drew the sound out and hesitated. Her eyes grew big again.

“No,” she said.

“Afraid so.”

“Oh, my God.” She closed her eyes, but only a second or two passed before they snapped open again, intent now. “How much of the myth is true? Are you immortal?”

“Near enough. I die every morning and resurrect every night.”

“Why do you keep backing away from me?”

“Because you smell so good to me. Regardless of how I choose to live, Yvonne, I’m still a predator. Nothing will ever change that.”

“You want to kill me?” She looked appalled.

“I want to drink from you. There’s a difference. I wouldn’t kill you. That’s not necessary, and certainly not desirable. But yes, I want you in ways you can’t imagine.”

She caught her breath, and stared at him wide-eyed. “Do you feel that way about every human?”

“Not quite. There are some who are more enticing than others. You’re the most enticing morsel I’ve ever met.”

“Oh.” She twisted her fingers together. “As a meal?”

“In every way.”

Her eyes widened, and then that maddening blush came to her cheeks. It called to him, to his hunger and his lust, as little had. He closed his eyes, seeking self-control even as his body hummed with need. She would never begin to imagine how hard it was, nor did he ever want her to.

But apart from his instincts, he was quite sure he wanted her to move on before he came to care about her as any more than as a passing acquaintance or a tempting delicacy. He’d lost everything he’d ever loved, and he wasn’t going there again. Ever.

But even as the tension seemed to leave her, as she appeared to accept this new blow, he watched her drop her head in her hands. More minutes passed, then she said almost plaintively, “Why in the world would I have a demon in my condo?”

“I don’t know.” He rubbed his chin, as if the mere rubbing of it could erase the delicious aroma of that woman, or keep it from reaching his extremely sensitive nose. “You haven’t done anything have you? Held a séance, used a Ouija board?”

“No, I wouldn’t dabble with that stuff.” She appeared faintly embarrassed. “I don’t know how much I believe in it, but I don’t see any reason to run that kind of risk.”

“I agree with you there.”

She paused, suddenly looking thoughtful. “I’ve never done anything like that. But my ex-boyfriend might have.”

His attention perked and he moved a bit closer. “Why do you say that?”

“I’m not even sure if he did. He had all these necklaces he’d wear from time to time, even though I hated some of them. Everything from an Iron Cross to some kind of feathers he said were an old talisman, to a star, and I didn’t think much of it. Well, that’s not exactly true. I objected to the Iron Cross, and the feathers kind of stank. But what’s to object to in a star?”

Then she gasped, apparently making a connection, and spoke quickly. “It wasn’t just a star. It was a pentagram. Why the hell didn’t I realize that?” Her eyes narrowed, even as her hands clenched into fists.

“Oh, man.” She barely breathed the words. Then she spoke acidly. “Oh, wouldn’t that be just like Tommy and his friends. To think something like that was cool. They’d love the idea it would upset some people. Heck, they’d probably even think it made them special and different.”

“When did you break up with him?”

“About two months ago. I found out he was cheating on me.” Her voice broke and then steadied. Clearly it still hurt like hell to remember the discovery. “And frankly, I didn’t like some of his friends. The cheating was the last straw.” She shook her head. “Anyway, his friends were … well … it’s hard to explain. I’m pretty sure they were doing some drugs, which I didn’t like, but their behavior grated on me. Cynical, antisocial and determined to break rules for the sake of breaking them. Arrested development.” She sighed. “And they seemed to be rubbing off on Tommy. He wasn’t like that at first, Creed. Truly he wasn’t. But after we’d been together about four or five months, he started bringing them home with him from the club where he had a gig.”

“I believe you,” he said gently.

“He changed.” Her voice broke again. “I blamed his friends, but maybe I didn’t really know him. Could somebody really change that much just because of friends? But he seemed to be getting more like them as time passed.”

“Did he start wearing that star necklace more often?”

She frowned faintly. “I don’t know. He started wearing his necklaces under his shirt so I wouldn’t see them. It made me mad that he still wore them when he knew I didn’t like some of them, but it made me mad at myself, too, for objecting to the stupid things. I mean, I must have seemed like such a bitch, picking on his jewelry.”

Creed sat, rubbing his chin slowly, lost in thought. There could definitely be a link, he thought, but how much of one he couldn’t be sure. The gateway, if they’d opened one, would have been where she lived before, not where she lived now. He definitely needed to kick this around with Jude, but for the moment he didn’t want to add to Yvonne’s worries, so he asked no more questions.

Yvonne, however, broke into his thoughts with a question of her own.

“You said your relative was attacked?”

“My great-granddaughter. She was nearly killed.”

She hesitated, then said, “That’s mind-blowing.”

“What is?”

“You don’t look anywhere near old enough to have a great-granddaughter.”

“I told you I was married once, and had daughters.”

“I know, but … Sorry, none of my business.”

“I was married, I had four daughters and a son. And then some damn vampire decided she wanted me, changed me and I was never able to go back to them.”

The corners of her mouth drew down. “They couldn’t accept you?”

“I wouldn’t ask them to. And certainly not in the state I was in at first. So I watched from afar, watched them grow old and die.”

“I’m so sorry! I can’t imagine the pain.”

He closed his eyes again, this time to blind himself to her sympathy. He hadn’t expected that. “It was a long time ago,” he said finally. “A very long time ago.”

“Feelings,” she said quietly, “have their own calendar. They don’t vanish simply because the months and years turn over.”

His eyes snapped open. “No. They don’t. But they visit less often, though they remain every bit as strong.”

She nodded. “I know. I lost my mother five years ago. Not that long in terms of pain, even when you don’t especially like them. I can only imagine what it must have been like to stay away when they were still there.”

He felt utterly flabbergasted. First she accepted that he was a vampire as if he hadn’t just bent all the rules of her known reality, and now she was expressing sympathy rather than fear or revulsion. “You are quite … unusual.”

“Why? Because I’m not running in screaming terror?”

“Because you believe what I told you and now you’re expressing sympathy.”

“Your eyes,” she said simply. “The way they changed. How could I not believe? I felt something already. Something different. You moved so fast and then your eyes changed. There’s no other explanation than that you’re telling me the truth.”

“I am. But I still would have expected some difficulty.”

“You mean I should get upset, scream, deny, whatever?” She shrugged. “Maybe most people would. I’m weird. I’ve always been weird. And I like unusual people. You certainly qualify as the most unusual person I’ve ever met.”

One corner of his mouth drew up. “So you think of me as a person? I’m not even a human anymore.”

“You’re still a person.” She leaned back and tucked her legs up beneath her on the couch. “I write about all kinds of fantastic beings. Some come from tradition, myth and fairy tales, others I make up. But I’ve never followed the current trend for vampires and werewolves.” She half smiled. “You’re giving me ideas for a story.”

“About vampires?”

“Maybe. You’re not at all what I would have expected.”

“Meaning?”

“Vampire as St. George.”

Finally he laughed and allowed himself to relax. Things might change at any instant as she truly absorbed what he’d told her, but for the moment he was willing to enjoy himself. At least as much as he could when her scent was driving him nuts. “I’m no saint, and certainly not a dragon-slayer.”

“Just don’t tell me there are dragons.”

“I haven’t met one, so I can’t say for sure.”

A smile flickered across her face. “True. Having just made the acquaintance of a couple of vampires I guess there’s no way to be sure that there aren’t any dragons, or elves, or trolls.”

She was definitely taking this entirely too well. A new and different tension began to creep through him, apart from the tension of self-control. None of her reactions seemed quite normal. The resistance had passed too quickly. The acceptance bordered on the extreme. Most people fought so hard to keep their beliefs about reality intact that they could literally erase from their minds anything that didn’t fit. He knew that effect intimately, as he’d seen it in action more than once, and more often than not took advantage of it. Denial was a basic trait of human nature. It actually helped vampires to survive.

Vampires and other things he would not mention, not today. Yvonne was dealing with enough. Or not dealing as the case might be. He honestly wondered which it was.

Her face had grown thoughtful, and he tensed again, waiting to hear her thoughts. He couldn’t help feeling that her easy acceptance of what he had told her was nothing but a ticking time bomb that might go off at any moment.

But then she looked up at him with a crooked smile. “I could use a little more proof, I think.”

“Proof that I’m a vampire?”

“Yes. Part of me recognizes that you moved far too fast for a human, that your eyes change in a way I’ve never seen any human’s do. But another part of me is seriously balking.”

“I’m honestly surprised that you aren’t terrified, given the stories everyone tells about us.”

She gave a little shake of her head. “You’ve been kind to me in the extreme. I tend to judge people by their actions even more than their words. I’m not afraid of you.”

“Maybe you should be.”

Her eyes widened a bit, and for the first time he saw a hint of fear that had nothing to do with what was going on in her apartment. Yes, it was better if she kept a distance, but his chest tightened anyway.

“Are you threatening me or warning me?” she asked.

In an instant he hovered over her, bending so close that he could feel the warmth of her breath, itself an intoxicant. “I’m a predator,” he whispered in her ear. “I can control myself. But with you … You have no idea how much I’d like to taste you.”

He heard her suck a sharp breath, then release it in a long sigh. He knew the reaction she was having. Many had it in the presence of a vampire. Burgeoning sexual interest, an almost soporific relaxation. Next she’d turn her head to expose her neck and he’d hate himself just for revealing that she was as helpless before the attraction of his kind as any other human. He didn’t want to see her that way, but he also didn’t want to examine his reasons for that.

She surprised him, though. She didn’t offer her neck. She didn’t adopt a pose of compliance. No, she raised her hand and touched his cheek, electrifying him with her warmth, the only warmth he could feel anymore.

“It must be hard for you,” she said. “I should go to a hotel.”

Appalled, he straightened instantly, crossing the room so fast that she couldn’t have seen him move. “No,” he said. “No. I don’t want you to be alone.”

“But this is causing you problems. And you can’t do anything about it anyway. Can you? Jude can do just as much if I’m in a hotel.”

“No,” he said again, feeling his body coil as if it wanted to spring. Only with huge effort did he avoid crouching a bit. “It won’t be safe for you. I can handle it. And yes, my very presence helps protect you.”

“How?”

“Because if anything tries to take you, it’ll have to deal with me. They don’t like to deal with my kind, Yvonne. We’re beyond their reach and we can wreak havoc on them when they take physical form. And … I could drag you back from the gateway of hell.”

His doorbell rang, interrupting further discussion much to his relief. He’d said more than he intended, and things he didn’t want to explain.

He went to let Jude and Terri back in. He noted the way they both looked at Yvonne, but only Terri’s face betrayed surprise.

“You’re not upset?” she said to Yvonne.

“About the existence of vampires? Why would I be? There are worse predators in the world evidently.”

Jude looked at Creed. “She doesn’t get it.”

“I’m not sure about that.”

“I don’t get what?” Yvonne demanded.

Jude looked at her. “That we could be the worst predators on the planet. If we chose to.”

“Do some of you?”

Creed felt a dark wave of bitterness. “Some do. Like the one who changed me. As a rule, most of us prefer not to make a bloody mess of things because like you, we prefer feeling reasonably safe.”

“Well, then.” That seemed to settle it for Yvonne. “At the moment I’m more troubled by what’s going on in my condo.”

“That,” said Terri, “is something I agree with. Totally.”

“She does have a point,” Jude agreed. “That feeling isn’t plaguing her because some prurient boyfriend or neighbor has installed miniature cameras or listening devices. Whatever it is, it’s big and it’s bad. I just wish I knew why it’s interested in Yvonne.”





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