Derek scowled at her. One of the first things she had taught him was how to block others from reading his thoughts. It was a talent he rarely used at home, but he was grateful for it tonight.
He should have known it wouldn’t save him.
“You’ve eaten mortal food,” she said thoughtfully. “I can smell it on you.”
He didn’t deny it.
“And the moon is full.” She sat on the arm of his chair. “Are you craving raw meat again?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I can make you tell me, you know.”
It wasn’t a threat. Simply a statement of fact.
He blew out a breath, then nodded. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”
“It’s happened before.”
“I know, but I wasn’t fully a vampire then. Why now? I shouldn’t be craving food.” He snorted. “Maybe I’m reverting.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then what’s causing it?”
“I wish I knew.” She placed her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.”
“I hope you’re right.” He didn’t want to be mortal, yet even as the thought crossed his mind, he wondered if that was true. If he was mortal, the biggest obstacle to being with Sheree would be gone.
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Yeah. Stop treating me like I’m your little boy.”
Bending down, she kissed the top of his head. “Sorry, love, but you’ll always be my little boy.”
With a shake of his head, Derek set her on her feet, then stood. “I’m going to bed.”
Mara stared after him, more worried than she had let on. It wasn’t normal for vampires to crave mortal food. She had dismissed it as some sort of hormone thing when he was a teenager, some crazy aberration because he was half human. But she couldn’t ignore it now.
Troubled, she followed him up the stairs.
Logan was waiting for her in their room. After closing the door, he took her in his arms. “What do you think’s wrong with him?”
“I wish I knew!”
“Could he be reverting?”
Shrugging, she laid her cheek against his chest. “If anything happens to him . . .” She let out a long, shuddering sigh. She loved Derek more than her own life. The thought of him in pain, the thought of losing him . . . Tears stung her eyes. She had killed the man who’d kidnapped her son when he was a baby, killed Thomas Ramsden without a qualm, as she would kill anyone who hurt what was hers. But this . . . there was no one to fight.
Lifting her head, she sniffed away her tears, then shook her head. “I don’t believe he’s reverting. Except for me, I know of no other vampire who has ever reverted.” She shook her head again. “He wasn’t made a vampire. He was born a vampire.” She grinned ruefully. “It’s in his blood. He can’t change what he was born to be.”
“Then what is it?”
“His father was mortal. Maybe as Derek grows older, he’ll be able to consume mortal food.” She lifted her chin. “I’m not going to worry about it until I know there’s a problem. What are you grinning at?”
“Nothing.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“I know you, darlin’. You’re gonna worry over this like a dog with a bone until you figure it out.”
“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do!”
“Darlin’,” he said, wrapping her in his arms, “I know you better than you know yourself.”
Closing her eyes, Mara surrendered to his kiss. Though she would never admit it out loud, Logan was right. In all her long existence, no man had understood her, or loved her, as he did.
She sighed when he lifted her in his arms and carried her to bed.
“I know just the thing to take your mind off your worries,” he said, a wicked glint in his eyes.
“Yes.” She grinned when he stretched out beside her. “And a wonderful thing it is.”
Chapter Thirteen
Derek rose with the setting of the sun. Still troubled by his need for more than blood and not wanting to talk to his mother about it, or see the worry in her eyes, he dissolved into mist and materialized outside, in his car.
Once he was out of the hills, he hit the freeway. Putting everything out of his mind, he stomped on the gas and lost himself in the thrill of barreling down the road at 140 miles an hour. Not surprisingly, he soon had a cop on his tail.
Slowing, he pulled off the road, put the car in park, and waited.
“I guess you know why I pulled you over,” the cop said.
Derek nodded. “I’ve got a pretty good idea.”
The cop flipped open his ticket book. “You’re under arrest. I’ll need to see your license and proof of insurance.”
Looking up, Derek trapped the officer’s gaze with his own. “You don’t want to arrest me, officer, or give me a ticket. A warning will do.”
“A warning, yes, of course.”
“Thank you, officer.”
Looking slightly confused, the cop closed his ticket book and returned to his car.
Derek tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as he watched the patrol car pull into traffic. He would have been happy to give the guy his driver’s license, only the one he carried was fake. He didn’t have insurance, or a birth certificate, either. As far as humanity was concerned, Derek Blackwood didn’t exist. Usually, he didn’t give it a thought, but sometimes, like tonight, it made him feel like the invisible man. It was a lonely feeling.
Swearing a pithy oath, he put the car in gear and drove back toward Hollywood.
Without conscious thought, he found himself in front of Nosferatu’s Den.
Sheree sat at the end of the bar, listening to the music and wondering what insanity had brought her back here. Only three nights ago, she had decided it wasn’t safe to frequent Goth clubs like this one. She had phoned her mother to let her know that she planned to come home, and would probably be there in a week or two. At least at home, she would never be bored. Life with her parents was like living on a merry-go-round. If they weren’t on the golf course or playing tennis at the club, they were out on the boat, or dedicating a new wing at a hospital, or holding a charity auction to raise money for one cause or another. There were always parties to host and plays to attend, gallery openings, nights at the opera. Life was often hectic, but never dull.
She had left home because she wanted something different, wanted to spread her wings and try living on her own. Her parents had frowned on her decision, but it wasn’t up to them. She had her own money, thanks to a healthy inheritance from her great-grandfather.
Living by herself had been satisfying, in its own way, but also extremely lonely. She didn’t know anyone in California, didn’t have the skills to get a good job. And looking for a vampire hadn’t been as exciting as she had hoped, until she’d met Derek.
Damn. She had sworn she would not think of that man again.
“Can I get you a refill, miss?”
“What? Oh, no. Wait. I’d like a Vampire’s Kiss.” One last drink, and then she was going home to pack. It seemed fitting somehow that it would be the drink Derek had recommended.
The bartender grinned at her. “Coming right up.”
The bartender had just served her drink when two men approached her. Both were built like linebackers, tall and broad shouldered. One had a long scar on his left cheek. They both wore long black coats.
Sheree felt a shiver of apprehension when the scar-faced man sat on the vacant bar stool beside her. He had blond hair, worn long, and eyes that were an odd color, not yellow, not brown, but something in between. The second man stood behind her.
“Could we talk to you for a moment?” Scarface asked.
Sheree shook her head. “Sorry, I was just leaving.”
“This won’t take long.”
“Sorry.” She stood, but the second man blocked her retreat. “What do you want?” She told herself there was nothing to be
afraid of. She was in a room filled with people; the bartender was only a few feet away.
“We’d just like to ask you a couple of questions.”
“What kind of questions?”
“You were in here earlier in the week.”
“Yes.”
“We’re trying to get in touch with the man you were with. He’s a friend of ours. We were hoping you could tell us where he lives.”
“I thought you were friends?”
Scarface smiled. There was no warmth in it. “He moved recently and we lost touch.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t help you. I just met . . .” She paused at the eager look in the man’s eyes when she started to say Derek’s name. “I just met him.”
Scarface looked at his companion, then shook his head.
Sheree glanced around. If she yelled for help, would anyone come to her aid?
“All right, let’s go at this from another angle,” Scarface said. “What do you know about him?”
Sheree shook her head. “Nothing. I told you, we just met.”
“Did he do anything that seemed unusual?”
“Unusual? In what way? We had a few drinks, we danced. That was all.”
Scarface looked at his companion again. “We’re wasting our time here. She doesn’t know anything.” He nodded at Sheree. “Sorry to have bothered you.”
Sheree watched the two men as they made their way to a table in the back corner, where they sat with their heads together.
She grabbed her handbag and practically ran toward the door. When a hand closed around her arm, she let out a startled cry.
“Let’s go.” Scarface pushed her out the door. “Where are you parked?”
“D-down there. The-the blue one.”
Fear choked her as the second man wrenched her purse out of her hands and unlocked the doors.
“Keep your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you,” Scarface warned, crowding her up against the side of her car.
“Please, let me go!” Sheree implored. “I don’t know anything!”
Scarface opened the rear door and pushed her inside.
With a cry, Sheree lashed out at him, raking her nails across his cheek, kicking out at him as hard as she could.
But Scarface was bigger, stronger.
He hit her once and she fell back on the seat, certain her life was over.
Derek had been sitting in his car across from the Den, debating whether he should go inside or head back home, when he saw Sheree exit the club, a man on either side of her. Her face was pale, her eyes wide and filled with fear. Her heart was pounding so loudly he was sure he would have heard it even without his preternatural senses.
The men had turned left, herding Sheree toward her car, which was parked at the end of the block.
Derek muttered, “What the hell?” when the scar-faced man started to shove her into the backseat, grinned when she fought back, even though it was a losing fight.
When the scarred man struck her, Derek went into action. Faster than the eye could follow, he raced down the street, grabbed the man by the hair, and slammed his forehead against the car. The man dropped like a stone.
The second man whirled around, his hand reaching inside his coat.
With a low growl, Derek broke both of the man’s arms and shoved him out of the way. Whimpering, the guy fell to the pavement, all the fight gone out of him.
“Sheree?” Derek touched her shoulder lightly. “Sheree, are you all right?”
She stared up at him, her mouth agape.
“Come on.” Taking her by the hand, Derek settled her into the passenger seat. “We need to get out of here.”
She didn’t argue.
He picked up her fallen handbag, dropped it in her lap, then fastened her seat belt.
Moments later, he pulled away from the curb.
“Who were those men?” Sheree asked, unable to keep the quiver out of her voice.
“Beats the hell out of me.”
“They said they knew you.”
Derek shook his head. “I never saw either one of them before.” He slid a glance in her direction. Her pulse was still a little rapid, but the color had returned to her cheeks. “Did they say why they were looking for me?”
“No.” She glanced out the window. “Where are you taking me?”
“To your place.”
“What about your car?”
“I’ll pick it up later.”
“I could have driven myself home.”
“It’s okay. I don’t mind.”
She turned her head away from him, her hands clasped in her lap, obviously nervous in his presence. He supposed he couldn’t blame her. He’d seen her a few times and then left her with no explanation, but hell, what was he supposed to say? I’d love to pursue a relationship with you and get to know you better, but I’m a vampire and you’re prey and I really don’t see this ending well for you. Yeah, right.
“How’ve you been, Sheree?”
“Fine. I’m going back home to my family.”
“Because of what happened tonight?” The thought of her leaving filled him with a sudden sense of loss.
“No. Because . . . just because it’s time.”
His hand tightened on the steering wheel. “Where’s home?”
“Philadelphia.”
Pulling into her driveway, he put the car in park, then cut the engine.
“Thank you for driving me home,” Sheree said.
Before she could open the door, his hand closed over her arm. “Don’t go.”
“It’s late. I’m tired.”
“I mean, don’t go home. Stay here.” The words with me hung unspoken in the air.
Sheree took a deep breath, then turned to face him, her gaze probing his. “Why?”
Releasing her, Derek raked a hand through his hair. “I know I behaved badly. Treated you badly. I’m sorry. There are things you don’t know about me, things I can’t tell you. . . .”
“Like why those men were looking for you?”
“Yeah, like that.”
“Were those men cops? Are you in trouble with the law?”
“No.” He shook his head. “Nothing like that. It’s just that my life is . . . complicated.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re not married, are you?”
“No, not even close.”
Sheree turned her head away again, hiding her expression from him.
Derek drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Only minutes before he had convinced himself there was no future for the two of them. If he was smart, he would listen to his own good advice and let her go before she got hurt. He had no doubt those two men were hunters. They hadn’t asked for him by name, so they didn’t know who he was—just that he was a vampire. It was a unique talent some hunters possessed, being able to ferret out members of the undead community.
Still not looking at him, she said, “Good night, Derek.”
“Dammit!” Grabbing her by the arm, he forced her to look at him.
And then he kissed her.
And she forgot all about going back to Philadelphia.
When Derek released her, Sheree blew out a deep breath. “So,” she asked, “where do we go from here?”
“I don’t know.” He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, then trailed his fingertips down her cheek. “All I know is that I need you, and I hope you’ll stick around long enough to give us a chance to get to know each other better. It’s up to you.”
Her gaze searched his, but there was no hint of deception in his eyes, nothing but a look that bordered on fear. Puzzled, she wondered what he had to be afraid of.
“It’s okay,” Derek said, drawing back. “You’re smart to keep your distance.”
Taking his hand in hers, she murmured, “I’m not going anywhere. Walk me inside?”
Feeling reborn, Derek got out of the car, then opened Sheree’s door. Slipping his arm around her waist, he walked her up the steps to the front porch.
; “It’s not as late as I thought,” she said. “Would you like to come in for a while?”
He hesitated, wondering if it was safe. He’d not yet fed and her blood called to him ever so sweetly. His gaze moved over her. Slender shoulders, a tiny waist, softly rounded hips.
She glanced back at him, her hand on the latch. “Derek?”
“Maybe for a little while.” He followed her inside, felt the power inherent in the threshold move through him like an electric shock. It was something he still hadn’t gotten used to, that jolt of supernatural juice capable of keeping creatures like himself from entering mortal homes uninvited. Even Mara, with all her power, couldn’t breach a threshold uninvited.
He stood inside the doorway, watching Sheree move around the room, turning on lights, straightening the newspapers and magazines scattered on the coffee table, folding the blanket lying on the chair.
She gestured at the sofa. “Please, sit down.”
He sat at one end of the couch, his gaze sweeping the room. The furnishings were decidedly feminine, from the flowered sofa and matching chair to the frilly pink curtains at the window and the collection of dainty ballerina figurines on the mantel.
“Are you going to join me anytime soon?” he asked.
“Sorry.” Biting down on her lower lip, she perched at the other end of the couch, her fingers toying with the hem of her jacket.
Derek smiled inwardly. Now that she had him here, she wasn’t sure what to do with him.
“Would you like something to eat? Or drink?”
His gaze moved to the hollow in the base of her throat. He’d love something to drink, but he was pretty sure she wasn’t offering what he needed. “No, thanks.” He draped his arm along the back of the sofa. “Do you want me to go?”
“Go? No, of course not.” Her brows drew together. “Why do you ask?”
“It’s obvious that my being here is making you nervous.”
She laughed self-consciously. “Why should I be nervous?”
“You tell me.”
She chewed on a fingernail a moment, gathering her thoughts, wondering if she should put them into words or keep them bottled up. But holding back never solved anything. Best to get it out in the open now.
“It’s this thing between us,” she said in a rush. “It’s so new and yet it’s so intense. It’s a little scary, and now you’re telling me you’ve got secrets you can’t share, and you say you’d like us to get to know each other better, and people are looking for you, and you don’t know who or why, and . . .”
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