“Was my father a good man?”
“I’d say so. I didn’t know him very well, but he loved your mother. And you. So, what now?”
“You can go home,” Derek said, opening the car door. “I need some time to think.”
He stood on the curb, watching the lights of Logan’s car fade into the distance. He had a great deal of respect for his stepfather. The man had always been there for him, always told him the truth, no matter how unpalatable it might have been. He was the only man Derek trusted.
Jogging down the sidewalk, he pondered what Mara and Logan had told him while he searched for prey. He fed quickly, then hurried to Sheree’s house.
He stood in the shadows for several minutes, staring at the lights shining through the living room window. Her home looked warm and friendly, inviting. He had fed only a short time ago, but Sheree’s scent stirred his hunger anew. He had tasted her once and had craved a second taste ever since. And knew even that wouldn’t be enough.
He should leave now, before he did something stupid—something that, once done, could never be undone, like breaking down the door, sweeping Sheree into his arms, and making love to her until the sun chased the moon from the sky.
The thought of holding her, tasting her, making love to her drove all rational thought from his mind. After crossing the street, he waved his hand in front of the door. It opened at his command, but when he tried to enter, the threshold’s power repelled him.
Frowning, he took a step back. What the hell had just happened, he wondered.
And then he knew. Sheree had taken his warning about inviting vampires into her house to heart and revoked his invitation.
Sheree frowned as a cool breeze wafted into the living room. How was that possible? All the doors and windows were closed. Weren’t they? A sudden chill ran down her spine. Had someone broken into the house again?
Rising, she grabbed the fireplace poker, tiptoed toward the entry, and peered around the corner. “Derek!”
He arched one brow when he saw the poker in her hand. “A wooden stake works better,” he said, a touch of bitterness in his voice.
“What? Oh.” She lowered her makeshift weapon. “I thought someone was trying to break in.”
“Someone was. Sorry I bothered you.”
“Wait! Where are you going?”
“It’s pretty obvious I’m not wanted here.”
“Don’t go.”
“Just don’t come in?”
Sheree blew out a sigh, her longing to see him, to touch him, warring with her innate fear of what he was. The word vampire whispered down the corridor of her mind, and with it the memory of what had happened outside the Den, and what had happened here, in her own home. “Can I ask you something?”
“Why not?”
“You won’t get mad?”
“No.”
“It’s common knowledge that vampires need blood to live. . . .”
“Yeah?”
“Where do you get yours?” She lifted a hand to her neck, then jerked it away when she realized what she was doing.
He didn’t miss the gesture, or the morbid curiosity in her eyes. “Just where you think I do.”
“So, you kill people?”
“Only when they’re trying to kill me.” Hands clenched, he took a deep breath. “I knew coming here was a bad idea. I won’t bother you again.”
Sheree took a step forward when he started to turn away. Everything that had passed between them—every word, every touch, every kiss—flashed before her eyes.
“Wait!” She ran toward the door, across the threshold, and down the porch steps. “Derek, wait!”
He stopped at the edge of the walkway but didn’t turn around. “Let me go, Sheree. No good can come from this.”
“I don’t believe that.” Coming up behind him, she placed her hand on his back, heard him suck in a breath at her touch. “We met for a reason, I’m sure of it. It’s almost like I was drawn here, to this place. It can’t be just coincidence that I was looking for a vampire and I found you.”
“You’re afraid of me. You can’t build any kind of a relationship on fear.”
“You’re afraid, too.”
He nodded. “I’m afraid I’ll hurt you. Or worse.”
“Can’t we go inside and talk it over?”
Slowly, he turned to face her. He let his hunger rise up within him, felt the sharp tips of his fangs brush his tongue, knew his eyes had gone red with the need to feed.
“This is what I am,” he said flatly. “Do you still want me to come in?”
Sheree stared at him for a moment. His countenance was frightening, there was no denying it. Had it been anyone but Derek, she would have run screaming into the house and slammed the door. But this was Derek, and even though she was still afraid of what he was, and even though she might be making the biggest mistake of her life, she simply couldn’t let him go.