The bath was warm, soothing, carrying her away, until she heard a sound from downstairs. She got out of the tub, pulled on her robe, and tiptoed down the stairs. Derek was on the front porch, beckoning her. A man stepped out of the kitchen, another from the hall closet . . . shouts, shots, the sound of her own screams, the smell of gunpowder and blood. Derek’s voice, low and soothing, his dark gaze capturing hers . . . telling her lies . . . the sound of a woman’s voice, telling her to go to sleep . . .
Mara’s voice.
Sheree bolted upright. Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she pulled on her robe and went downstairs, determined to learn the truth once and for all.
Derek shoved his hands into his pockets when the living room light switched on. Sheree stood in the doorway, her face pale, her arms folded across her chest.
“The truth,” she said tremulously. “I want the truth.”
“There are all kinds of truth,” he replied easily. “What truth are you looking for?”
“I want to know why those men were looking for you at the Den. And who broke into my house. And how you happened to be there. And how I got to your sister’s house, and . . .”
He held up a hand, staying her words. “I get the message. I don’t know the men who were looking for me.” That much was true. He hadn’t known them, but he had known what they were. “I was here last night because I was worried about you. It was mere coincidence that I arrived shortly after the intruders did.”
She nodded. “Two men broke into my house. You killed them. I remember there were gunshots and . . . and blood. Your blood.” Her eyes grew wide. “You were shot!” Her gaze flew to his shoulder. “There. And . . . and there.” She pointed at his chest.
“Do I look like I’ve been shot?”
“No.” She frowned. If he had been shot in the chest, he would be in the hospital. At the least, there would be bandages.
Doubts assailed her. Had she dreamt the whole thing? “Yesterday, I was at your sister’s house. Why are my memories so cloudy?”
He shrugged. “Probably caused by the stress of the last couple of days, I would think.” Rising, he walked slowly toward her, half expecting her to back away. When she didn’t, he drew her into his arms.
She stood there, stiff as a board for several moments, and then, gradually, she relaxed against him, her cheek resting on his chest. “I’m so confused. I think I must be losing my mind.” She looked up at him, her expression one of bewilderment and fear. “Do you think I’m going crazy?”
Derek stroked her hair, afraid he was about to make the biggest mistake of his life. But he couldn’t stand to see the panicky look in her eyes, hear the ill-disguised alarm in her voice.
“No, love,” he murmured, hoping his mother would forgive him. “You’re not going crazy. The truth is, you’ve found exactly what you were looking for.”
Exactly what you were looking for. The softly spoken words sent a shiver down Sheree’s spine. “What do you mean?”
Derek took a deep breath, well aware that he was breaking the code of his kind. “You wanted to find a vampire,” he said quietly. “You found one.”
She blinked at him. Was he kidding? He wasn’t smiling or grinning. He looked dead serious. She felt all the blood drain from her face. The arms that had felt so strong and comforting only moments ago suddenly felt confining.
Sensing her distress, Derek let her go and took several steps backward.
And waited.
She shook her head. “If this is a joke, it’s in very poor taste.”
“It’s no joke.”
“You’re a vampire?”
He nodded.
“Prove it.” She regretted the words as soon as they left her lips. Did she really want to know the truth, especially when the best way for him to prove it was to do what vampires did best?
Derek smiled faintly. “I’ve already tasted you.”
She lifted a shaking hand to her throat. “I don’t believe you.”
“It was just once, while you were sleeping.”
“No.” She shook her head. “It was only a dream!” But it had felt so real.
“Are you sure?”
Feeling suddenly chilled, she ran her hands up and down her arms. “Am I going to become a vampire?”
“So you believe me?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.”
His gaze moved over her, a predatory gleam in his eye. “I can hear the beat of your heart, the sound of the blood flowing through your veins. I can sense your thoughts, taste the fear on your skin.”
“That’s impossible!”
She let out a shriek when, without warning, he dissolved into mist and surrounded her. Planting the words in her mind, he said, Now do you believe me?