Ronan stared at the TV screen, hardly aware of what he was watching. If he brought Shannah across, would she tire of him after a few years? Would he tire of her? He honestly didn’t know, but it was a chance he was willing to take.
He sat by her side all that night, hoping she would awake. When she didn’t, he carried her to bed and tucked her in. Brushing a kiss across her brow, he went to seek his own rest.
As usual, Shannah slept late the following day. On waking, she was surprised to find herself in bed instead of in the chair where she had fallen asleep. She felt a moment of regret that she had slept through the night. What had Ronan done after he put her to bed? She didn’t like the idea of his wandering through the casinos alone. He was too handsome, too appealing.
Rising, she ordered breakfast from room service, then dressed and went downstairs. She wandered into the casino, which didn’t seem nearly as glamorous or exciting in the afternoon as it did at night. She noticed it wasn’t as crowded, either.
She played blackjack for twenty minutes or so, but it wasn’t as much fun without Ronan. She tried her hand at the slots and at video poker and then left the hotel.
Putting on her sunglasses, she strolled up the street, looking in windows, watching the people who passed by. She meandered through a couple of the other casinos, stopping to play a slot machine here and there without any luck.
Maybe she just wasn’t a gambler, she mused as she left another casino behind. It was fun for a few minutes but she quickly lost interest in the games, even when she was winning. If she was going to spend money, she would much rather shop than gamble.
She didn’t know about Ronan, but she was ready to go home.
She went into a café for a late lunch, then decided to take in a movie.
It was dark when she left the theater, or at least as dark as it got in Vegas.
Shannah was crossing the street when a tall man wearing a hat and a long coat fell into step beside her. She darted a glance in his direction, felt a shiver go down her spine when she saw the predatory gleam in his eye.
She quickened her step, one hand clutching her purse. She breathed a sigh of relief when she left him behind, only to gasp when she realized he was again at her side, matching her step for step.
She glanced around, looking for help, wondering if anyone would come to her aid if she screamed even though, as yet, he hadn’t done anything.
Panic made her heart beat faster. She was about to break into a run, deciding it was better to look foolish than get mugged, when his hand closed around her upper arm in a vice-like grip and he dragged her into the shadows of a side street.
When she would have screamed, he slapped his hand across her mouth. Leaning close, he whispered, “You don’t want to do that.”
She stared at him, her heart pounding with fear, and then with dread when his eyes took on a fiendish red glow. His top lip curled back, exposing his fangs. This was the vampire of legend, the kind of vampire who drained his victims dry and left them lying on the ground, a dry empty shell.
She stared into his face, her insides turning cold as she saw death in his eyes. Her death.
Ronan! Ronan, help me, oh, please, help me! The words screamed in her mind as the vampire grasped a handful of her hair and jerked her head back, exposing her throat.
This couldn’t be happening, she thought. She didn’t want to die like this. Her stomach clenched with horror as the vampire lowered his head toward her neck. With a cry, she began to struggle in his grasp. Her nails raked his face with no effect. When she tried to knee him, he slapped her, hard, twice, then dragged her body up against his, his arm like iron around her waist. She screamed when she felt the scrape of his fangs against her skin.
She closed her eyes, only to snap them open when the vampire suddenly released her. She staggered backward, her head striking the wall of a building. Moaning softly, she slid down the wall. Dazed, she shook her head to clear it, then stared at the two figures that were slowly circling each other. It took her a moment to realize that the second figure was Ronan.
It was a scene straight out of a nightmare. Eyes blazing red as hellfire, their fangs bared and their hands like claws, the two vampires circled each other.
Shannah stared at them, unable to move, as they suddenly lunged at each other in what she knew would be a battle to the death. It was brutal and ugly, a ballet of blood fought in silence.
She watched Ronan as if seeing him for the first time. Always, he had been gentle, restrained, in control. Now she saw the predator that lurked within him. His power sizzled through the night air, raising the hair along her nape. The sharp coppery tang of blood stung her nostrils.
She wanted to cover her eyes, to run away and hide, but she could only crouch there, her gaze fixed on Ronan as the battle raged on. And then, suddenly, it was over and Ronan stood alone. He stared at something in his hand, something that left drops of what looked like dark water on the pavement at his feet.
His eyes blazed with triumph and the heat of battle. When his gaze met hers, he turned away with a low growl.
Feeling as though she had been freed from a sorcerer’s spell, Shannah scrambled to her feet and ran out of the alley.
Eyes closed, Ronan listened to the sound of her retreating footsteps. She had seen him at his worst now, seen the ugliness he had tried to spare her. Would she look at him differently now? Would she see him as nothing but a monster instead of a man?
Muttering an oath, he lifted the body of the vampire onto his shoulder. Moving with preternatural speed, he left the city behind, searching for a deserted place where no one would find the body before dawn. When he found a ravine, he dropped the body inside and tossed the heart in after it. Come morning, the sun would destroy the remains.
He only hoped he hadn’t destroyed his relationship with Shannah.
He found a place to wash up before returning to the hotel, then stood in the hallway outside her door, suddenly reluctant to face her. He could hear her pacing the floor inside, smell the residue of fear that clung to her as she tried to erase what she had seen from her mind.
Would she want to see him now, he wondered, or should he leave her be for what remained of the night? Deciding time and distance might be to his advantage, he was about to turn away when the muffled sound of her sobs reached his ears. The thought of her in her room, crying and alone, was more than he could bear, especially when he was the cause of her tears.
Lifting his hand, he knocked on the door.
“Who’s there?” she called, her voice shaky and uncertain.
“It’s me. Are you all right?”
Footsteps, and then the door opened and Shannah stood there, her eyes wide, one hand pressed to her heart.
“Are you all right?” he repeated.
“I’m not hurt, if that’s what you mean. I’m not sure I’ll ever be all right again.”
He blew out a sigh. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
Her gaze moved over him. “Are you okay?”
He nodded. “As always. Do you want me to go?”
“No.” Taking him by the arm, she pulled him inside, then closed the door.
Crossing her arms under her breasts, she looked up at him.
For once, he couldn’t read her expression and so he stood there, waiting.
“He would have killed me, wouldn’t he?”
Ronan nodded, once, curtly.
“You saved my life,” she said quietly. “Again.”
“But now you’ve seen me as I really am, and you no longer like what you see.”
She frowned thoughtfully, then shook her head. “How can you think that? I’d be dead if it wasn’t for you.”
“You wouldn’t have been here in the first place if it wasn’t for me.”
She couldn’t argue with that and she didn’t try.
“You should have run away,” he said, his voice tinged with anger. Had he lost the fight, she would have been at the mercy of the other vampire.
�
�I did run away.”
“Yes,” he said dryly, “when it was over. He could have destroyed me, you know. What would you have done then?”
She hadn’t considered for a moment that Ronan wouldn’t win. He had always seemed so strong, so invincible, she couldn’t imagine anyone defeating him. Placing her hand on his chest, she said, “You were magnificent.”
He lifted one brow. “Magnificent? Is that why you ran away?”
“No. I’m not sure why I ran. I guess…” She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Perhaps it was your good sense asserting itself, albeit too late.”
“Thank you for rescuing me.”
“You’re not afraid of me, then? You’re not repulsed by what you saw?”
“A little. It was ugly and I was scared, but…” She looked up at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I don’t want to think about it anymore. I just want you to hold me.”
He drew her gently into his arms, thinking again what a remarkable creature she was, grateful that in spite of everything she had seen, she hadn’t run screaming from his presence.
Chapter Twenty-Six
She dreamed of dying. Floating above her body, she watched the doctors who were gathered around her, trying in vain to revive her.
She heard the hum and whine of the life support system, the voices of the doctors, sharp with urgency, and then a resigned voice saying, “It’s over, we’ve lost her.”
She heard her mother’s hoarse cry of denial when the doctor called to deliver the sad news, saw the grief on the faces of her mother and father as they laid her to rest. Sealed inside a white coffin, she heard the dirt clods falling on the lid. She screamed in fear when she was unable to lift the lid. Sobbing, she begged them to let her out before it was too late, before she really was dead. She screamed until her throat ached, pounded on the lid of the casket until her hands bled, broke her fingernails in a vain effort to claw her way out. Heard her own scream of terror as she realized she was going to suffocate…
“Shannah! Shannah, wake up!”
“No! No! Let me out!” She lashed out at the dark figure bending over her, her nails drawing blood as they raked his cheek. “Let me out! Oh, please, let me out! I’m not dead!”
Ronan caught both of her hands in one of his. “Shannah, calm down. You’ve had a nightmare.”
She collapsed against him, sobbing uncontrollably.
“Shh, love, it’s all right.” He held her tight, one hand stroking her back, her hair. “It was just a bad dream.”
“It was so real.” Shivering, she huddled against him. “I w-want to…to go home.”
He let out a sigh, thinking that he was losing her far sooner than he had planned. But he couldn’t keep her with him against her will, not anymore. He could refuse her nothing that he had the power to give, and if she wanted to go home, he would take her there.
“All right, love,” he said quietly. “Do you want to call your parents and tell them you’re coming?”
She looked up at him, her brow furrowed. “Oh,” she said, sniffling. “I didn’t mean my parents’ home. I meant your home.”
Her words plucked a thorn of despair from his heart. “I’ll take good care of you,” he promised.
“I know.”
He handed her a handkerchief when she sniffed again. Sitting up, she blew her nose and wiped her eyes.
“That must have been some nightmare,” he said. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“I dreamed that I died and that my parents…they buried me. But I wasn’t dead and I couldn’t get out!” She looked at him, her eyes wide with horror. “Do you think they ever bury people who aren’t dead?”
“Not anymore,” he said reassuringly. In the old days, it had been a common occurrence to bury someone thinking they were deceased. There had been occasions when a coffin was exhumed and when it was opened, scratches had been found on the inside of the lid, indicating that the deceased hadn’t been deceased at all. In time, a string was tied to one of the deceased’s hands, with the other end of the string being attached to a bell above ground. Should the one interred suddenly regain consciousness and begin to thrash about, the movement caused the bell to ring. It was believed that it was that ancient custom that had spawned the term “dead ringer.”
Shannah blew out a sigh. “It was the worst nightmare I’ve ever had.”
“I’m sure it was.”
She touched his bloodied cheek. “Did I do that?”
“It’s nothing.”
“I’m sorry.” She dabbed at his cheek with his handkerchief but there was no need. The shallow scratches were already healing.
“Believe me,” he said with a wry grin, “I’ve been hurt much worse.”
“Can we leave tonight?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“It is. I don’t like it here.”
“All right, love. Gather your things while I go and tell Valerie we’re leaving.”
“Thank you, Ronan.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “I won’t be long.”
Ronan found Valerie at the club, sitting at her usual booth. A young vampire with long brown hair and pale green eyes sat beside her, his expression one of rapt adoration.
Valerie smiled warmly when Ronan sat down across from her. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon,” she said, “yet you are always welcome.”
“I’ve come to say good-bye.”
“I had hoped you would stay a while longer so that we might reminisce about times past.”
“I would have liked that,” he said, meaning it, “but Shannah wishes to go home.”
“Ah. And have you decided what you’re going to do with your little mortal?”
“It’s up to her.”
Valerie nodded. “I wish you all the best in whatever you decide.”
“Thanks.” Taking her hand in his, he kissed her palm, aware, as he did so, of the young vampire’s jealous gaze. Releasing Valerie’s hand, Ronan winked at the young man. “Don’t worry, kid, she’s all yours.”
Valerie laughed softly. “Ah, Ronan, you’ve got it wrong,” she said, stroking the young vampire’s cheek. “He is all mine.”
Grinning, Ronan left the club.
Shannah was dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed when he returned to the hotel. He noticed at once how pale she looked. The disease was escalating, he thought bleakly. He would have to give her his blood more often if he hoped to keep her alive.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
She nodded.
Tucking her belongings under one arm, he drew her close against him and closed his eyes, focusing his will and his energy on going home. It still amazed him that a single thought could propel him across great distances. It had taken him a while to perfect the art but it had come in handy more than once, especially back in the old days, when vampire hunters had been far more numerous, and far more tenacious.
The familiar weightlessness engulfed him and with it the sense of moving at incredible speed. It was a rather startling sensation that at first had left him feeling light-headed and slightly disoriented. But, like every other aspect of his preternatural life, he had grown accustomed to it.
Moments later, they were standing in the middle of the living room. A wave of his hand kindled a fire in the hearth and turned on the lights.
He glanced at Shannah. One look at her face, and he dropped her belongings on the floor and carried her swiftly up the stairs to her room. Flinging the covers on the bed aside, he placed her gently on the mattress, ripped open the skin on his wrist, and held his arm to her lips.
“Drink, Shannah.”
She stared up at him, her face deathly pale, her eyes unfocused. “No…”
“You must drink!”
She shook her head. “Call my…mom and dad…tell them…I’m sorry.”
“Dammit, Shannah, you will drink!”
She shook her head weakly. “No. It’s too late…just…let me go.”
It was the one thing he could not do. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he took her face in his hands and gazed deep into her eyes, heedless of the blood trickling down his arm, dripping onto the sheets. “You must drink, Shannah. You want to drink. The taste will be sweet and you will not stop until I tell you.”
“Please don’t make me…”
He could not, would not let her go. He called on his preternatural powers, felt them come to the fore as he gazed deeper into her eyes, capturing her will with his. “Shannah, listen to my voice. You must do as I say. Please, love, I cannot let you go.”
This time, when he pressed his wrist to her lips, she did not resist.
Jim Hewitt sat in his car, his fingers drumming impatiently on the steering wheel. He was getting almighty tired of spending his nights sitting in his car on the off-chance that Ronan and the girl would…
He sat up straight, his eyes narrowing as lights came on in the house. Picking up his cell phone, he punched in Overstreet’s number. “Carl?”
“Yeah,” Overstreet said crossly, “whaddya want?”
“They’re back.”
“You’ve seen them?”
“No, but the lights just came on in the house.” Hewitt glanced at his watch. “It’s a little after midnight. Get some sleep. I’ll stay here until six, and then it’s your turn.”
“What’s the point of watching during the day?”
“We need to know if she’s with him.”
“Oh, yeah, right.”
“You’ll get that story yet,” Hewitt said, and ended the call.
He sat in his car a moment more, then got out and made his way up to the front gate. He had expected it to be locked, was surprised when it swung open at his touch. Making his way around to the side of the house, he peeked in the first window he came to. He held his breath as he watched the vampire sweep an apparently unconscious Eva Black into his arms and carry her out of sight. Damn! Was he too late?
Muttering an oath, he went around to the front door, swore again when it refused to open. Damn and double damn! Was she already dead or was that filthy bloodsucker draining her dry while he stood out here on the porch, helpless?
Dead Perfect Page 21