“You think you have a right to judge me and the way I live?” the vampire snarled. “Let’s see how you like it.”
Carl stared at the creature that was now his sire until a wave of darkness swallowed him whole.
He woke with a start, something he rarely did. The room was pitch black, yet he saw everything clearly. He knew he was in Winona’s bedroom and that she was in the house. The pounding of her heart rang loud and clear in his ears, giving rise to an excruciating pain that exploded inside him. For a moment, he thought he was dying.
And then he remembered he had died last night. And the agony burning in his veins was a need for blood.
He found Winona in the living room. She had turned on every light in the house and now she sat in a chair, her back to the wall, a stout wooden stake in one hand, a bottle he suspected held holy water in the other.
Carl stood in the doorway, well out of reach. “I thought you’d be gone.”
“I don’t have anywhere to go.”
“How’d Bowman get in last night? I thought vampires needed an invitation?”
“Usually. But all the houses belong to the vampires.”
His nostrils flared as the scent of her blood called to him. “You aren’t safe with me.”
“Maybe you aren’t safe with me.”
“You’ve given me many a meal since first we met,” he said with a wry grin. “But I’ve never been hungrier than I am now. Or more in need.”
Head tilted to one side, she regarded him through narrowed eyes. “How do I know you’ll stop feeding before my heart stops beating?
“You don’t trust me?”
“Do I look crazy to you? I’ve been living among vampires for years. There’s nothing more unpredictable than a hungry fledgling.”
Carl groaned low in his throat. “Winona, please.”
“All right. But I’m holding the stake against your heart and if you don’t stop when I tell you to, you’ll be a dead fledgling.”
He groaned again. “Anything you want.”
She held out her arm, palm up. “Not my neck.”
He dropped to his knees in front of her, too desperate to argue. The scent of her blood called to him, over-riding his disgust at what he was doing. But he wasn’t human anymore and one taste quickly changed disgust into pleasure. He closed his eyes, savoring the warm, salty taste on his tongue as if it was the sweetest nectar.
Which it was.
Only the slight pain of the stake’s point piercing his skin made him stop. He ran his tongue over the wounds in her wrist, watched in amazement as the tiny punctures healed in seconds.
Muttering, “I’m sorry,” he stood and backed away from her.
For the first time, he noticed the bruise on her cheek, the swelling on the side of her head. Only then did he remember that Bowman had thrown her against the bedroom wall.
She flinched when he reached out to run his fingers over the bruise. “Does it hurt?”
“A little. It knocked me out. He was gone when I came to. And you were … I thought you were dead.”
He nodded. “I guess I am. Technically.” He sat down on the sofa, head bowed, hands dangling between his knees. “Where do I go from here? I’ve got no family. No friends except Travis.” He barked a laugh. “He’ll get a kick out of this.”
“You can stay here.”
At the touch of Winona’s hand on his shoulder, he looked up. “You mean it?”
She shrugged, a faint grin teasing her lips. “Why not? I’ve gotten used to having you around.”
Chapter 32
During the next three weeks, Sara fell back into her usual routine. She jogged in the morning, spent her afternoons with her girlfriends. Mondays they played tennis. Tuesdays they relaxed at the spa. They played bridge on Wednesdays, did charity work at the hospital on Thursdays, went to lunch on Fridays.
Her weekends were spent with Dil.
The only fly in the ointment was that he was no longer content to be friends. Had he been less of a gentleman it might have caused a problem. But he was a well-bred young man and when she said no, he reluctantly put on the brakes.
Many nights, lying alone in her bed, Sara wished desperately that she had let Travis make love to her. He was rarely out of her thoughts, never out of her heart. Time and again, she thought of calling him. Probably a good thing she’d lost her phone and couldn’t remember his number, she mused, or she probably would have called him by now. And said what?
Sometimes, when she was thinking of him, she had the feeling he was nearby, that if she just called his name, he would come to her.
Late one night she awoke, certain that he had been in her room, that she had felt his fingers in her hair, his lips on hers.
Now, as she dressed to go out with Dil, she wished it was Travis coming to call, because she had a terrible feeling that Dil was going to propose—and an even worse feeling that if he asked, she would say yes just to get out of the rut she seemed to be in.
Hands shoved into his pockets, Travis wandered through the town. For the last three weeks, he’d been trying to work up the nerve to knock at Sara’s door, but every time he got close, he chickened out. She lived in a luxurious home he could never afford, drove a baby-blue Corvette. Her friends were all young and beautiful and rich. They wore the latest styles, drove expensive cars. Men and women alike were filled with a kind of innate self-confidence he’d never had. Would never have.
He had been a fool to think they could have a future together. He had nothing to offer her. Nothing at all. Even if he hadn’t
