“Enjoy your meal,” he said, smiling, though he thought McDonald’s blood would be sour, indeed.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Mara stared at her son in wide-eyed disbelief. “You saved their lives?”
Derek shrugged. “It seemed like the right thing to do.”
“I don’t understand you. Why would you help those two old bats after what they did to your father? What they did to you?”
“Hey, it’s done. Let it go.”
“So Lou McDonald and her sister are dead?”
“For all I know, Edna and Pearl could be dead, too. I didn’t hang around to find out.”
“You would know if Edna had been destroyed.”
He shrugged. “Then she’s alive. Besides, didn’t you say you wanted to keep the two of them around for a while?”
“Yes, I did say that.” Mara shook her head. “I can’t believe those two meddlesome creatures took out the notorious McDonald sisters.”
“They had a little help, Ma,” Derek reminded her. “It’s me you should be thanking.”
“Thank you,” she said, her voice sugary sweet.
“That hunter wanted you awfully bad. I overheard her saying she was going to take you out or die trying.”
“Well, she should be happy then,” Mara said, grinning. “I just hope Edna and Pearl cleaned up the mess.”
Derek stalked the dark streets of Hollywood. His hunger, stirred to life by the scent of the hunter’s blood, rode him hard. He had no doubt that the two hunters were dead. Their screams had followed him out of the building. He had no sympathy for them. They came looking to destroy his mother and had met their own deaths, instead. Sometimes the good guys won. Sometimes they lost—although in this case, he wasn’t sure there were any good guys.
The scent of prey drew him toward an unsavory part of town where he found two drunks fighting over a bottle of rotgut. One of them was bleeding from a shallow cut across his cheek. Closing his eyes, Derek took a deep breath, hands clenching as the smell fueled his hellish thirst.
He could have killed both of the transients in an instant, but he was spoiling for a fight. With a cry, he waded into the battle. As expected, the two men quickly turned on him, their own disagreement forgotten in the face of a new threat.
Restraining his preternatural power, Derek fought both of them, relishing their punishing fists, although the pain was negligible. He didn’t try to avoid their blows; instead, he welcomed them. He was a monster. It was what he deserved. Until one of the men pulled a knife from the inside of his boot.
The weapon changed the game. Infused with new courage, the armed man lunged at Derek as the second man flung himself onto Derek’s back. Derek hissed when the blade buried itself to the hilt in his chest. It wasn’t a fatal strike, but it hurt like hell.
Snarling, Derek jerked the blade from his flesh and drove it into the man’s heart. The drunk reeled backward, then spiraled to the ground.
The man clinging to Derek’s back slid off and hit the street running.
Grunting with pain, Derek bent over the mortally wounded man.
He had never deliberately baited a human before. Never gone looking for a fight. Or enjoyed killing.
He glanced at the sky, wondering if his hunger and his anger had been sparked by the werewolf sleeping inside him.
Later, after disposing of the body, he wondered what Sheree would think if she could see him now, eyes burning, clothing splashed with blood.
Sheree. His need for her grew stronger with every passing hour.
What was she doing? His jaw clenched as he imagined her with other men—dancing, laughing, letting them steal a kiss or two. Did she ever think of him? Was she planning to come back to California, or had she decided to stay in Philadelphia and marry some puny mortal? He slammed his fist against a nearby wall. Why in hell had he let her go?
He strolled down Hollywood Boulevard, ignoring the come-ons of the streetwalkers, sidestepping a couple who’d had too much to drink.
How had he ever lived without Sheree? She had been away for a week and it seemed like years. He hadn’t realized just how empty his existence had been until she was no longer in it.
What would he do if she never came back?
Sheree smiled politely as an elderly man with snow-white hair asked her to dance. She would rather have refused, but since her parents were hosting the party, she was expected to dance with anyone who asked, and pretend she was having a good time.
She had been home for over two weeks, and it seemed like an eternity. Every day had been crammed with activities—an endless round of parties, dinners, charity auctions, and Sunday brunches. Ralph had proposed to her twice, Neil three times. And now her mother had ferreted out a new suitor, James van Horn, who made Ralph and Neil seem vastly appealing by comparison.
Waltzing around the floor with her elderly partner, Sheree decided she’d had enough. Tomorrow, she was booking a flight back to California. She missed her little house. She missed the California sunshine.
She missed Derek.
Relieved when the music ended, Sheree thanked her partner for the dance, and hastened out to the verandah for a few minutes alone.
She had never gotten around to telling her mother she was in love with Derek, but perhaps that was a good thing. Better to make sure he still wanted her before she said anything to her parents. One thing she knew for certain: she wanted him more than ever.
She gazed up at the sky. The moon would be full next week. Was he dreading it? Or anxious to confront his fears once and for all?
Sheree.
She whirled around at the sound of his voice, her heart fluttering with excitement at the thought that maybe he missed her so much, he had come after her.
But there was no one there.
It was late the next night when Sheree arrived at her home in California. She had intended to wait until after the full moon, but after hearing Derek’s voice in her mind last night, she couldn’t wait any longer. He needed her. She was sure of it.
She knew a moment of trepidation when she unlocked the front door, remembering all too clearly what had happened only a few short weeks ago.
Standing in the entryway, she cocked her head to one side, recalling how Derek had assured her there was no one in the house because it “felt empty.” She knew now he had probably used his vampire senses to ascertain there was no one there. A handy talent, no doubt, when people were hunting you. She tried to imagine what it would be like knowing people hated you enough to kill you just because you were different.
Turning on the lights, Sheree moved warily through the house, breathed a sigh of relief when the house was, indeed, empty. After leaving her suitcases in the bedroom, she slipped into her nightgown, then went downstairs to make a cup of tea. She would have to go grocery shopping tomorrow. She had emptied the refrigerator before she left. The cupboards were bare except for the basics.
Sheree carried her tea into the living room, then curled up on the sofa. Back home, she had been certain coming here was the right thing to do, but she was suddenly beset by doubts. Derek was a vampire. He slept during the day. He drank blood to survive. He could read her thoughts. He couldn’t give her children. He would never grow any older. His mother was a vampire, the oldest vampire in existence, and he belonged to a family of vampires. . . . What would they think of her? Would they accept her? Would she be safe among them?
Sheree sipped her tea, then put the cup aside. Then there was the whole werewolf thing. What if he turned into a werewolf and couldn’t control himself? Would he tear her to shreds?
She had come back determined to convince him they belonged together. But now she wondered if she was wrong. He couldn’t change what he was. If she wanted to be with him, she would have to accept his lifestyle, his family, the fact that her life would always be in danger. Most troubling of all was the knowledge that she would grow old and gray and he would be forever young and healthy.
Almost, she could hate him for that
.
She was about to go to bed when the doorbell rang.
She froze for an instant; then, feeling like Little Red Riding Hood about to meet the Big Bad Wolf, she opened the door.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Derek asked gruffly.
“I’m glad to see you, too,” she retorted, her voice razor sharp.
He glanced up at the sky, his skin prickling. Five nights from now, the moon would be full.
“I know I should have waited,” she said, following his gaze, “but I couldn’t. You called to me last night, didn’t you?”
His gaze softened and the next thing she knew, she was in his arms. “How could I hear you when I was so far away?”
“I’ve tasted your blood.” He pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “I will always be able to find you, know your thoughts, and let you know mine.”
“So, you missed me?”
“You have no idea.” He held her close, his forehead pressed to hers. “I shouldn’t be here,” he rasped. “It’s dangerous for you, but I couldn’t stay away.”
“How did you know I was home?”
His hands moved restlessly up and down her back. “I could feel your nearness calling me.”
It was, she thought, romantic and creepy at the same time.
He lifted his head, his gaze searching hers. “You were having second thoughts before I got here.”
He had been reading her mind again. How would she ever get used to that? Was she to have no privacy at all?
“I’ve been going crazy without you,” he said quietly.
She looked into his eyes, eyes as gray as winter clouds, and mirrored in their depths she saw her own need, her own loneliness. His fears were there, too. Fear of the unknown. Fear that in a moment of weakness, he might lose control and attack her.
A muscle twitched in his jaw. “You’re afraid of me.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement of fact.
“I’m afraid for you,” she admitted. “But I’m not afraid of you. There’s a big difference.” Tugging on his hand, she led the way to the sofa and drew him down beside her.
He slipped his arm around her shoulders, and tucked her against his side.
Sheree snuggled against him. Was it possible to be both werewolf and vampire at the same time? What would it mean for the two of them if he changed into a werewolf and stayed that way?
“Is that what you’re worried about?” he asked.
“Derek, you’ve got to stop reading my mind! It isn’t fair.”
He brushed a kiss across the top of her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t help it.”
“What frightens you the most?”
“Turning into a beast with no control over my actions.”
“That would be frightening, but . . . well, you’re a vampire and you don’t go around ripping out throats and killing indiscriminately, so . . . maybe there’s nothing to worry about.”
“I guess it depends on whether or not I remember who I am.”
Sheree’s eyes widened. “I never thought of that.” With no memory of who he was, Derek would truly be a beast. “It’s only one night a month, right?”
“So they say.” But he could kill a hell of a lot of people in one night. “Sheree . . .” At times like this, he wished she could read his mind.
“What?” She looked up at him, her brow furrowed. And then she knew. “You’re worried, wondering if I’ll still love you if you become a werewolf. It doesn’t matter what you are, Derek. Werewolf or vampire, I’ll love you just the same.”
“Sheree.” Lowering his head, he claimed her lips with his, hoping she knew how much she meant to him, afraid that in spite of her brave words, he would do something to drive her away.
She moaned softly, her body molding to his. Her breasts felt warm and soft against his chest, her lips sweetly yielding. Her warmth, the scent of her desire, stirred his hunger. She let out a little gasp of pained surprise when one of his fangs nicked her tongue. The taste of her blood swamped his senses.
With a growl, he sprang to his feet and turned away from her.
“Derek, I’m okay.”
“I’m not.” When she started to rise, he barked, “Stay there!” He took several deep breaths, fighting the urge to bury his fangs in her throat. “It’s best if I go.”
“But . . .”
“There’s someone I need to talk to.”
“Will I see you tomorrow night?”
“No. Not until after the full moon.”
“But I just got here.”
“I know, and I’m sorry.” Reining in his hunger, he turned to face her. “It’s too dangerous, love. I can feel the wolf stirring inside. It isn’t safe for you to be near me right now. Or for me to be near you.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Heaven help us both, but I don’t think I can face this without knowing you’re here.”
“You won’t have to,” she promised, and hoped she wouldn’t live to regret it.
Edna looked up from the book she was reading. “Pearl,” she whispered hoarsely, “Derek’s here!”
Pearl glanced around as though she expected to see him in the room. “What do you think he wants?”
“I have no idea.” Edna swallowed hard. “Why don’t you answer the door and ask him.”
“You answer it!”
Edna laid her book aside and opened the door, just a crack. “What are you doing here?”
“I need your help.”
“You . . . need . . . my help?”
“That’s what I said. Mind if I come in?”
“Could I keep you out?”
“Probably not.”
Sighing fatalistically, Edna invited him in. “Please, sit down.” She gestured at the sofa, then resumed her seat.
Pearl smiled faintly.
“So, what do you want?”
“Mara says you know more about werewolves than anyone.”
“That’s true,” Edna said, unable to keep the pride out of her voice. “I’ve been studying them since before you were born.”
“Is there a way to tell if I’m going to turn when the moon’s full?”
Edna clucked softly. “I’m not sure. I’d need to take your blood. Pearl, get my kit, would you?”
With a nod, Pearl went into the other room. She returned a short time later carrying a large brown case. “Where do you want it, dear?”
“On the table by the window.” Edna hurried to the table and lifted the lid on the case.
Derek peered over her shoulder, staring at the contents: a number of test tubes and bottles in various sizes, cotton swabs and cotton balls, rubber tubing, and several other objects he didn’t recognize.
Edna withdrew a syringe and a glass vial. “Roll up your sleeve.”
He did as she asked, watching curiously as she filled several vials with dark red blood.
With that done, she lifted a microscope from the case, then prepared several slides. After pulling a chair up to the table, she peered into the microscope.
Hands clenched at his sides, Derek paced the floor while Edna studied one slide after another. An hour later, she blew out a sigh.
“Well?” Derek growled.
“It’s hard to be a hundred percent certain, but I’d say the werewolf gene is active, at least to some degree.”
“If I change, will I remember who I am?”
“That I can’t say.”
“Will I be able to resist it?”
“No. You’ll be compelled to change the first time. You might be able to resist in the future, but that will depend on how strong the trait is, and your ability to fight it. I do know that the pain will be excruciating if you try to resist.”
“Mara suggested locking me up.”
Edna nodded. “She will need a sturdy cage.”
“Isn’t there a drug of some kind you can give me to keep it from happening?”
“I’m afraid not.” Edna glanced at Pearl. “Years ago we concocted a serum we hoped would cure the werewolves, but it wasn’t
effective. Some died. Even if it had worked, I’m not sure what its effect would be on you, since you aren’t completely vampire or werewolf.”
Derek raked a hand through his hair. “Your best guess,” he said, thinking of Susie McGee. “If I change into a werewolf, will it be permanent?”
“I’m afraid so.”
So, that was it. One way or another, he was destined to spend at least part of his life as a monster.
“It might not be so bad,” Pearl said. “After all, werewolves are human most of the time. They can walk in the sun. They can have children, eat mortal food, and lead reasonably normal lives.”
“Yeah. Except when the moon is full.”
On the way home, Derek stopped at an all-night market and bought a pound of raw hamburger.
He stared at the package a moment, then ripped off the paper and swallowed a handful of bloody meat.
And sighed with pleasure.
Mara smelled the raw meat on Derek’s breath the minute he entered the house, but wisely said nothing.
“You’ve been with the old ladies,” Logan remarked.
Derek nodded. “Edna took some of my blood. She says the gene seems to be active.”
Mara’s pale face grew ashen. “What can we do?”
“There’s nothing to do until it happens. No way to predict whether I’ll turn into a werewolf and stay that way, although Edna thinks it’s likely.”
“A werewolf,” Mara murmured, her deep green eyes reflecting her horror.
“Is there someplace where you can lock me up?”
Logan and Mara exchanged glances.
“It’s the only place that will hold him,” Logan said.
“What place?” Derek asked.
“Your mother has an old castle high in the mountains of Transylvania. It’s been closed for centuries. The land is overgrown. Like all old castles, it has a dungeon in the basement.”
“Take me there.”
Mara looked uncertain.
“It’s the best place for him,” Logan said, “even if we decide not to lock him up. There aren’t any people for miles, nothing but forest and wild animals.”
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