Lover Eternal

'You don't worry about that.' When she stopped trembling, he pulled back. 'Let's go.'

He hurried her over to the GTO and felt better as he put the thing in gear and peeled out of the parking lot.

Mary looked all around the car.

'Shoot. My purse isn't here. I must have left it at home. I'm a forgetful mess today.' She leaned back against the seat and searched her pockets. 'Aha! At least I have my keys, though.'

The trip out of town was fast, uneventful. As he brought the GTO to a stop in front of her house, Mary covered up a yawn and reached for the door. He put his hand on her arm.

'Let me be a gentleman and get that for you.'

She smiled and dropped her eyes as if she wasn't used to men fussing over her.

Rhage got out. While he sniffed the air, he used his eyes and ears to penetrate the darkness. Nothing. A whole lot of nothing.

On his way around the back of the car, he popped the trunk, took out a large duffel bag, and paused again. Everything was quiet, including his hair-trigger senses.

As he opened Mary's door, she frowned at what was hanging off his shoulder.

He shook his head. 'I don't think I'm spending the night or anything. I just noticed my trunk lock is broken and I don't want to leave this unattended. Or out in plain sight.'

Goddamn, he hated lying to her. It literally turned his stomach.

Mary shrugged and walked to her front door. 'Must be something important inside that thing.'

Yeah, only enough firepower to level a ten-story office building. And it still didn't feel like enough to protect her.

She seemed awkward as she unlocked the front door and stepped inside. He let her roam from room to room, turning on lights and working off her nervousness, but he stuck right by her. As he followed, he visually checked the doors and windows. They were all locked. The place was secure, at least on the ground floor.

'Would you like something to eat?' she asked.

'Nah, I'm good.'

'I'm not hungry either.'

'What's upstairs?'

'Um… my bedroom.'

'Will you show it to me?' He needed to go through the second story.

'Maybe later. I mean, do you really have to see it? Er… oh… hell.' She stopped pacing and stared at him, hands on her hips. 'I'm going to be up front with you. I've never had a man in this house. And I'm rusty at the hospitality thing.'

He dropped the duffel. Even though he was battle-ready and tense as a cat, he had enough mental energy left over to get sapped out on her. The fact that another male hadn't been in her private space pleased him so much his chest sang.

'I think you're doing just fine,' he murmured. He reached out and stroked her cheek with his thumb, thinking about what he wanted to do with her up in that bedroom.

Immediately his body started cranking over, that weird inner burn condensing along his spine.

He forced his hand to fall to his side. 'I have to make a quick phone call. Mind if I use the upstairs for privacy?'

'Of course. I'll… wait here.'

'It won't take long.'

As he jogged up to her bedroom, he took his cell phone out of his pocket. The case of the damn thing was cracked, probably from one of the lessers' side kicks, but it still dialed out. When he got Wrath's voice mail, he left a short message and prayed like hell he got a call back soon.

After doing a quick assessment of the upstairs, he came back down. Mary was on her couch, legs tucked under her.

'So what are we watching?' he asked, searching the doors and windows for pale faces.

'Why are you looking around this place like it's a back alley?'

'Sorry. Old habit.'

'You must have been in one hell of a military unit.'

'What do you want to watch?' He went over to the shelves where her DVDs were all lined up.

'You pick. I'm going to go change into something…' She flushed. 'Well, to be honest, something more comfortable. And that doesn't have grass on it.'

To make sure she was safe, he waited at the bottom of the stairs as she moved around her bedroom. When she started for the first floor again, he beat feet back over to the bookshelves.

One look at the movie collection and he knew he was in trouble. There were a lot of foreign titles, some deeply sincere American ones. A couple of golden oldies like An Affair to Remember. Casa- fucking-blanca.

Absolutely nothing by Sam Raimi or Roger Corman. Hadn't she heard of the Evil Dead series? Wait, there was a hope. He pulled a sheath out. Nosferatu, Eine Symphonie des Grauens. The 1922 classic German vampire movie.

'Found something you like?' she said.

'Yeah.' He glanced over his shoulder.

Oh… man. She was dressed for love, as far as he was concerned: Flannel pajama bottoms with stars and moons on them. Little white T-shirt. Floppy suede moccasins.

She tugged at the shirt's hem, trying to pull it down farther. 'I thought about putting on jeans, but I'm tired, and this is what I wear to bed… er, to relax in. You know, nothing fancy.'

'I like you in all that,' he said with a low voice. 'You look comfortable.'

Yeah, to hell with that. She looked edible.

Once he had the movie up and rolling, he grabbed the duffel bag, brought it over to the couch, and sat down at the end opposite from her. He stretched out, trying to pretend for her benefit that every muscle in his body wasn't tight. Truth was, he was strung out. Between waiting for a lesser to break in, praying that Wrath would call at any moment, and wanting to kiss his way up the inside of her thighs, he was a living, breathing steel cable.

'You can put your feet on the coffee table, if you want,' she said.

'I'm cool.' He reached over and turned off the lamp to his left, hoping she'd fall asleep. At least then he could move around and keep an eye on the exterior without getting her riled up.

Fifteen minutes into the movie, she said, 'I'm sorry, but I'm fading over here.'

He glanced at her. Her hair was fanned over her shoulders and she'd curled up into herself. Her skin was luminous and a little flushed in the flicker of the TV, her eyelids droopy.

This was how she would look when she woke up in the morning, he thought.

'Let yourself go, Mary. I'm going to stay a little longer, though, okay?'

She tugged a soft cream throw blanket over herself. 'Yes, of course. But, um, Hal—'

'Wait. Would you please call me by my… other name?'

'Okay, what is it?'

'Rhage.'

She frowned. 'Rhage?'

'Yeah.'

'Ah, sure. Is that like a nickname or something?'

He closed his eyes. 'Yeah.'

'Well, Rhage… Thank you for tonight. For being so flexible, I mean.'

He cursed quietly, thinking she should slap him instead of feel grateful. He'd nearly gotten her killed. She was now a target for the lessers. And if she knew half the things he wanted to do to her body, she'd probably lock herself in the bathroom.

'It's okay, you know,' she murmured.

'What is?'

'I know you just want to be friends.'