Derek waited until Sheree was asleep before slipping outside to where Mara waited.
“What’s up?” He glanced up and down the street, but all was quiet, the houses dark. A faint breeze carried the scent of skunk. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked, a steady yapping that spoke of boredom.
“Would you believe me if I said I was just in the neighborhood?”
“Not likely.”
“All right,” she said with an airy wave of her hand. “I’m spying on you.”
“Worried about me?”
“No, about Sheree, actually. I know the mood you were in earlier.”
“And you thought I’d rip her throat out?” He laughed softly. “Why would you care?”
“I’ve grown rather fond of her these last few days.”
“Yeah, me, too.” Derek shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “She let me drink from her tonight.”
“You fed on her?” Mara exclaimed.
“No! No, it wasn’t like that. She knew I needed to feed and she offered, but the thing is, after a swallow or two, the hunger left me. Nothing like that’s ever happened before.”
“Interesting, but not unheard of. So, you’re going to stay with her?”
“For a while.”
“Do you think that’s wise?”
“Probably not, but . . . all I know is that I need her in ways I don’t understand. It’s like she’s a missing part of me. I know, that sounds sappy as hell, but . . .”
“Believe it or not, I understand. It’s how I feel about Logan. The hardest thing I ever did was admit that I needed him,” she said, smiling. “Chauvinist that he is, he’s never let me forget it, which would be unbearable, except that he needs me, too.”
“Yeah.”
Mara glanced at the house. “Are you thinking of spending the day here?”
“No. I’ll be home before dawn.”
“All right. I’ll relieve you then.”
“Thanks, Ma.”
With a shake of her head, she vanished into the darkness.
Derek lingered in the shadows, enjoying the quiet of the night. Opening his vampire senses, he listened to the slow, steady beat of Sheree’s heart, smiled when she sighed in her sleep. His mind brushed hers. She was dreaming of him.
Leaning against a tree, he felt himself relax—really relax—for the first time in months. And he owed it to Sheree. He had never expected her to accept what he was.
He lifted his head as a new scent was carried to him by the night wind.
Hunters! There was no mistaking that smell. Or the smell of vampires!
Dissolving into mist, he drifted down the street. Hovering in the air, he watched in amazement as the two old ladies he had seen in the Den fought a trio of well-armed hunters. The hunters, all big men in their prime, towered over the two vampires. Had life and death not hung in the balance, Derek might have found the battle highly amusing.
He had no intention of interfering until the fight turned against the vampires. Chiding himself for being a fool, he materialized behind the nearest hunter and choked him out.
The shortest of the hunters quickly realized they were now outnumbered. Yelling at his remaining companion to follow him, he hightailed it down the street.
The third hunter wasn’t ready to call off the fight until both of the women launched themselves at him, driving him to the ground. He looked up at Derek, seeking help he quickly realized wouldn’t be forthcoming.
Derek let his eyes go red. “What are you doing here?” he growled.
“What the hell do you think?”
“Who are you after?”
“Any vampire I can find!” He struggled against the two holding him down, swore when he realized that they were a lot stronger than they looked.
“What’s your name?”
“Go to hell, bloodsucker!”
“After you.”
Fear shadowed the hunter’s eyes for the first time. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know if you let me go.”
A faint scuffle warned Derek that the first hunter had regained consciousness. He turned in time to deflect the knife aimed at his back. The blade scraped along his forearm. It stung like hell. Grabbing the man by his arm, Derek threw him down the street. There was a sickening thud when the hunter skidded, headfirst, into a brick wall. The coppery scent of blood rose in the air.
The red-haired vampire looked up at Derek. “Are you through questioning him?”
Derek stared at the hunter. “Depends on whether he has any answers for me.”
The hunter cleared his throat. “What do you want to know?”
“Who are you? Why are you here? Did someone send you?”
“My name’s Ashby. I was hunting vampires when I came across these two in the Den.” The fact that he found it hard to believe the two old ladies were vampires, or that they had taken him down, was evident in his voice. “I followed them here.”
“You weren’t after me?”
Ashby shook his head.
“You’re lying,” Derek said. “Who sent you?”
Ashby shook his head again, harder this time, as if that would convince them he was telling the truth.
Derek glanced at the red-haired vampire, who sank her fangs into the hunter’s neck.
The hunter let out a shriek. “McDonald’s after Mara! Word on the street says she’s willing to lay down a lot of credits for information regarding Mara’s whereabouts.”
The redhead reared back. Delicately wiping a bit of blood from the corner of her mouth, she looked at the other woman, then at the hunter. “Lou McDonald?”
The hunter nodded.
The white-haired vampire shook her head. “I would have thought she’d be retired by now.”
“Who’s McDonald?” Derek asked.
“Only one of the most dangerous slayers in the world.”
Derek grunted softly. And then he stared at the two old women, wondering why he hadn’t put two and two together sooner. He didn’t know the redhead’s name, but there was a connection between them that he didn’t understand. “Which one are you?” he asked. “Edna or Pearl?”
“We never meant you any harm,” the redhead said. “It was purely research.”
“Be quiet, dear,” the other woman said.
“Hush, Pearl.” The redhead smiled at Derek. “I’m Edna. I only drank from you so I could find you again.”
“Why would you care where I was or what happened to me?”
“Because of the werewolf gene, of course,” she replied, as if he wasn’t too bright. “Didn’t your mother tell you about it?”
“Yeah, she told me. You’re lucky she wants you alive, or you’d be history now.”
Edna swallowed hard, thinking that, at the moment, Derek looked even more dangerous than his infamous mother.
“Stay the hell out of my sight,” Derek said. “Both of you. And get rid of that body down the street.”
Edna nodded, then glanced at the hunter trapped beneath her and Pearl. “What shall we do with this one?”
“Whatever you want,” Derek muttered darkly, and left them there, the hunter’s cries for help ringing in his ears.
Derek spent the rest of the evening in Sheree’s bedroom. Sitting in a chair by the window, he watched her sleep, wondering what the future held for the two of them. Wondering what would happen to him during the next full moon. He wasn’t afraid of changing into a wolf. He could do that now. But a werewolf? Would he become one of the monsters so popular in the movies? A slavering, bloodthirsty creature who terrorized the countryside, killing indiscriminately? Would his werewolf form be different from the wolf he could assume at will? When he shape-shifted, he remembered who and what he was. Would that be true in werewolf form? Would he recognize those he knew, or attack them without mercy?
He glanced at Sheree, sleeping peacefully, one hand tucked beneath her chin. What was he doing bringing her into his life? What if he killed her? There was no way he’d ever be able to live
with that. Maybe he was worrying needlessly. Maybe, come the full moon, nothing would happen. His father had carried the werewolf gene with no ill effects. Hopefully, his son would also be spared.
He sensed the coming of dawn even before the first faint rays of sunlight lightened the sky. It manifested itself in a sudden prickling in every nerve and cell in his body, a tingling that would become excruciating if he was caught in full sunlight.
He brushed a kiss across Sheree’s cheek before he left the house.
Mara was waiting for him on the front porch. “What happened? There’s blood on your shirt and in the air.” She took a deep breath. “Did you kill someone?”
“A hunter.”
She lifted one brow.
As succinctly as possible, Derek told her of the night’s events.
“Lou McDonald? Why would she be hunting me after all this time? I never did anything to her.” Mara shook her head. “She helped your father find me when I was pregnant with you. And then Logan and I went to her for help when you were kidnapped.”
“Once a hunter, always a hunter.”
“Like Edna and Pearl.” Mara blew out an exasperated sigh. “If it’s the last thing I ever do on this earth, I’m going to get rid of that meddling twosome.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Derek had not dreamed since he was thirteen, but tonight his fears about becoming a werewolf followed him to sleep. This, however, was more of a nightmare, and even though he knew he was dreaming, he was helpless to escape. . . .
Unlike shape-shifting, transforming into a werewolf proved to be agonizing as bones, muscle, tissue, and flesh stretched and crackled. He writhed on the ground, howling in pain until it was over. Then, bounding to his feet, he raced through the dream’s darkness. Streetlights turned into trees, the pavement into earth. He ran tirelessly until he came to a clear pool. Pausing, he stared at his reflection. When he shape-shifted, the creature he became was a handsome thing, fur thick and black, eyes gray, body perfectly formed. But the creature that stared back at him now was hideous—the snout too long, the ears big and misshapen, the body out of proportion.
He whined low in his throat, then turned away and began to run again, his jaws dripping saliva as he scented prey ahead.
He found her caught in a thicket.
It was Sheree, as he had known it would be.
She screamed when she saw him, struggling with renewed effort to free herself from the briars that were tangled in her clothing and hair.
Snarling softly, he padded toward her, the scent of her fear magnifying his lust for her life’s blood. For flesh . . .
In his sleep, Derek recoiled at the thought of consuming human flesh. But the werewolf in his dream would not be denied its prey.
Sheree screamed again as he sank his teeth into her throat, her hoarse cry of pain and fear mingling with his own.
It was the sound of his own tormented cry, and that of his mother calling his name, that woke him. He stared up at her, his body bathed in sweat, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
“It’s all right,” Mara said, brushing a lock of damp hair from his brow.
“I had a nightmare.”
“You were dreaming?” Such a thing was unheard of.
“Yeah.”
“Do you want to talk about it? It might help.”
“I was a werewolf.”
“Go on.”
“Sheree . . .” He took a deep breath. “She was my prey.”
“A nightmare, indeed. But it’s over now.”
Sitting up, his back propped against the headboard, he wiped the sweat from his brow with a corner of the sheet. “I shouldn’t be with her. I’m a predator. She’ll always be prey.”
“I disagree. Your dream was a reflection of your fears. You told me yourself that being with her calms you.”
“What if that’s no longer true when I’m a werewolf?”
“If you’re afraid of what you might do, I can lock you up before the full moon. Then we can see how it affects you. Perhaps nothing will happen.”
“And if I turn into a ravening monster?”
“Let’s worry about that if and when it happens.”
“Tell me about Susie McGee.”
Mara sat on the edge of the mattress, ankles crossed. “She was your typical wife and mother until she was bitten by a werewolf. Her husband, Rick, was part of a gang of hunters. Pearl’s grandson was also one of them. They didn’t hunt just vampires, but any and all supernatural creatures. Edna and Pearl had captured several of them so they could experiment with a serum they had invented. It was intended to make all supernatural creatures revert to human.”
Her brow furrowed as she called up the past. “As I recall, it worked on a couple of newly turned vampires, but it had no effect on the shape-shifters. Since they’re born that way, they had no true humanity to revert to. Its effect on the werewolves was mixed. Susie was one of their guinea pigs. She would have died if Rafe hadn’t turned her. She never really got the hang of being a werewolf, but being a vampire seemed to suit her. She fell in love with a shape-shifter and they got married.”
Leaning forward, his mother kissed him on the forehead. “Get some sleep now.”
Slipping under the covers, Derek thought about Susie McGee. First a werewolf, then a vampire, but not both at the same time.
As darkness dragged him back down into oblivion, he thought, given a choice, he’d rather be a vampire.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sheree glanced out the living room window. The sun was just setting. Derek would be there soon. Peeking out the narrow window beside the front door, she saw Mara sitting on the porch, reading a magazine. The vampire had been there since early morning. Sheree had asked if she wouldn’t be more comfortable inside, but Mara insisted she was fine where she was.
It made Sheree feel cherished, knowing that Derek and his mother were both protecting her.
Hurrying into her bedroom, Sheree ran a comb through her hair, brushed her teeth, then changed into the blue skirt and sweater she had bought earlier in the day, with Mara offering advice.
She had just applied fresh lipstick when the doorbell rang. Excitement fluttered in her stomach as she ran down the stairs to open the door.
Derek whistled softly when he saw her. “You look great.”
“Thank you.”
He crossed the threshold, then drew her into his arms, all his doubts about being with her disintegrating when he kissed her.
“I missed you, too,” Sheree said, smiling. “What shall we do tonight?”
“Whatever you want.”
“I’m happy to stay home, if you are.”
“Fine with me.”
In the living room, she sat on the sofa and he settled close beside her, one arm sliding around her shoulders.
“How was your day?” he asked.
“Okay. Your mom and I went shopping and then out to lunch. Well, I had lunch. I asked her to come inside, but she refused. It must make for a long day, just sitting there on the porch.”
“It’s a warning to any vampire, any hunter, who’s thinking about hurting you,” Derek explained.
“Still . . .”
“Don’t worry about it. Time doesn’t pass the same for us as it does for you. Vampires can, I don’t know how to explain it, sort of shut down so they don’t notice the passage of time.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything. You don’t have to ask my permission.”
“When we were shopping today, I couldn’t help noticing that your mother’s reflection didn’t show in the mirror. Until you told me otherwise, I always thought that was a myth.”
“I wish it was.”
“Does it ever make you feel like you’re invisible?”
“Worse. It makes me feel as if I don’t exist.”
Reaching up, she caressed his cheek. “I’m glad you do.”
“I am, too, now.”
>
His words warmed her heart. Cupping his face in her palms, she drew his head down and kissed him, gasped as his arms tightened around her.
“Sorry,” he murmured, releasing her. “Sometimes I forget how fragile you are.”
“Fragile?”
He chuckled. “Honey, I could break you in two with one hand tied behind my back.”
“Well, that’s comforting!”
“Guess I shouldn’t have said that out loud.”
“Don’t be silly. I know how strong you are. I’ve seen you in action, remember?”
“Sheree . . .”
“I’m not afraid of you, Derek.”
“You should be!”
“I think we already had this discussion. Stop worrying and kiss me again.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he muttered, and drew her back into his embrace.
Kissing Derek was like nothing Sheree had ever known. She reveled in the strength of his arms around her, in the masterful way he held her and kissed her, the tenderness in his touch as he caressed her. More than his physical strength, she sensed the preternatural power inherent in his kind. Why hadn’t she noticed it before? Was she sensitive to it now because she knew what he was? Or had he been shielding it from her until now? The power danced over her skin, a constant reminder that he wasn’t like other men.
She pushed him down on the sofa, then straddled his thighs.
He arched one brow, a faint smile playing over his lips, as she unbuttoned his shirt, then ran her fingertips over his chest and belly.
“Careful now,” he warned.
“I’m tired of being careful.”
He raised himself up so she could remove his shirt.
“Hey,” he said when she tossed it on the floor. “That’s Armani.”
“I’ll buy you another one.” Her gaze moved over him in blatant appreciation. His shoulders were broad, his stomach ridged with muscle. She traced his biceps, explored the curly black hair on his chest, ran her fingertips along his waistline.
“You’re playing with fire, girl.”
“Am I? You don’t feel like fire. Are vampires always so cool to the touch?”
He nodded. “We don’t need to breathe as often as you do. Our hearts beat more slowly.”
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