“Fanatics do a lot of irrational things,” he said grimly.
She couldn’t argue with that.
Tugging on her hand, he led her away from the entrance.
“It’s odd that the sprinklers didn’t come on,” Tessa remarked. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that one side of the theater was now on fire.
In the light of the flames, she saw a man stagger out of a side door, gasped in horror when sparks from the building ignited the sleeve of his jacket. She let out a cry of alarm as he was suddenly engulfed in fire and then, in the blink of an eye, he dissolved into a pile of gray ash.
Swallowing the bile that rose in her throat, she tugged on Andrei’s arm. “Did you see that?”
He nodded, a muscle tightening in his jaw as a gust of wind scattered the ashes. He had known Colin Dougherty for three hundred years. Colin had been a vampire, yes. But he had also been a kind man, one who had satisfied his thirst with blood obtained from a local blood bank rather than prey on mortals.
Had he been alone, Andrei would have gone back to the theater to see if he could find any trace of the hunter or hunters responsible. But there were other vampires in the vicinity; he couldn’t leave Tessa standing on the sidewalk, alone and unprotected.
* * *
Tessa glanced at Andrei as he pulled out of the parking structure. He hadn’t said a word since they’d escaped the theater. His jaw was set, his expression implacable.
She shifted in her seat. Time and again she had started to ask him what was wrong, only to swallow the words. Something told her she really didn’t want to know what he was thinking.
She shuddered as a news flash interrupted the music on the radio to report on the fire. With a glance at Andrei, she switched it off. Tomorrow would be soon enough to hear the grisly details. She had seen enough carnage to give her nightmares for a year.
She breathed a sigh of relief when he pulled up in front of her building.
After turning off the engine, he turned to face her. “I’m sorry for this evening,” he said quietly.
Tessa made a vague gesture with her hand. “The fire wasn’t your fault.”
He grunted softly, then opened his door. “Come, I’ll walk you upstairs.”
She was conscious of him standing behind her as she slid the key into the lock, her every sense attuned to his nearness. She wondered if he would kiss her good night, then felt a twinge of guilt for even thinking such a thing after what had happened at the theater.
Reaching inside, she switched on the light.
“Tessa.”
Slowly, she turned to face him.
“The man who died,” he said quietly. “He was a friend of mine.”
“Oh! I’m so sorry.” But even as she spoke the words, she remembered how quickly the flames had engulfed him, the way his body had turned to ash. And drifted away.
Andrei blew out a breath. “His name was Colin. He wrote the play.” Another breath. “And he was a vampire. That’s why he burned so quickly.”
Tessa blinked at him. “You were friends with a vampire? But . . . I thought . . . you said you were a hunter.”
“I knew him before he was turned,” Andrei explained. “He was a good man. Devoted to his art and his music. He never hurt anyone.”
“But if he was a vampire . . . ?”
“He never hunted humans. There was no reason for anyone to destroy him.”
Tessa stared at him, not knowing what to say.
And suddenly, words didn’t seem important. Standing on her tiptoes, she pressed a kiss to his cheek.
She gasped as his arms went around her, his mouth descending on hers, his tongue like a rapier as it dueled with her own. All thought left her as he pressed her body closer to his. And still closer. And it wasn’t close enough. She had a crazy impulse to drag him into her apartment and rip off his clothes, to pull him down on the floor and beg him to make love to her all night long.
Her eyelids flew open as her mind filled with vivid images of herself doing that very thing. With a muffled cry, she took a step backward as other images played across her mind—frightening images from her nightmare of Andrei with fangs and eyes that glowed red in the dark.
He loosened his hold, but didn’t release her.
“I . . . I . . .” She was breathing as if she’d just run a mile. Or twenty. She shook the unsettling memory of her nightmare away. What would he think if he could read her thoughts? No doubt he would think her foolish to be so upset by a bad dream.
A faint smile curved his lips. “Would it be all right if we tried again?”
She stared at him, her cheeks burning. Tried what again?
“Another date,” he clarified. “Perhaps next week?”
She nodded, too flustered to speak.