Night's Promise(45)
Slipping under the covers, Derek thought about Susie McGee. First a werewolf, then a vampire, but not both at the same time.
As darkness dragged him back down into oblivion, he thought, given a choice, he’d rather be a vampire.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sheree glanced out the living room window. The sun was just setting. Derek would be there soon. Peeking out the narrow window beside the front door, she saw Mara sitting on the porch, reading a magazine. The vampire had been there since early morning. Sheree had asked if she wouldn’t be more comfortable inside, but Mara insisted she was fine where she was.
It made Sheree feel cherished, knowing that Derek and his mother were both protecting her.
Hurrying into her bedroom, Sheree ran a comb through her hair, brushed her teeth, then changed into the blue skirt and sweater she had bought earlier in the day, with Mara offering advice.
She had just applied fresh lipstick when the doorbell rang. Excitement fluttered in her stomach as she ran down the stairs to open the door.
Derek whistled softly when he saw her. “You look great.”
“Thank you.”
He crossed the threshold, then drew her into his arms, all his doubts about being with her disintegrating when he kissed her.
“I missed you, too,” Sheree said, smiling. “What shall we do tonight?”
“Whatever you want.”
“I’m happy to stay home, if you are.”
“Fine with me.”
In the living room, she sat on the sofa and he settled close beside her, one arm sliding around her shoulders.
“How was your day?” he asked.
“Okay. Your mom and I went shopping and then out to lunch. Well, I had lunch. I asked her to come inside, but she refused. It must make for a long day, just sitting there on the porch.”
“It’s a warning to any vampire, any hunter, who’s thinking about hurting you,” Derek explained.
“Still . . .”
“Don’t worry about it. Time doesn’t pass the same for us as it does for you. Vampires can, I don’t know how to explain it, sort of shut down so they don’t notice the passage of time.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything. You don’t have to ask my permission.”
“When we were shopping today, I couldn’t help noticing that your mother’s reflection didn’t show in the mirror. Until you told me otherwise, I always thought that was a myth.”
“I wish it was.”
“Does it ever make you feel like you’re invisible?”
“Worse. It makes me feel as if I don’t exist.”
Reaching up, she caressed his cheek. “I’m glad you do.”
“I am, too, now.”
His words warmed her heart. Cupping his face in her palms, she drew his head down and kissed him, gasped as his arms tightened around her.
“Sorry,” he murmured, releasing her. “Sometimes I forget how fragile you are.”
“Fragile?”
He chuckled. “Honey, I could break you in two with one hand tied behind my back.”
“Well, that’s comforting!”
“Guess I shouldn’t have said that out loud.”
“Don’t be silly. I know how strong you are. I’ve seen you in action, remember?”
“Sheree . . .”
“I’m not afraid of you, Derek.”
“You should be!”
“I think we already had this discussion. Stop worrying and kiss me again.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he muttered, and drew her back into his embrace.
Kissing Derek was like nothing Sheree had ever known. She reveled in the strength of his arms around her, in the masterful way he held her and kissed her, the tenderness in his touch as he caressed her. More than his physical strength, she sensed the preternatural power inherent in his kind. Why hadn’t she noticed it before? Was she sensitive to it now because she knew what he was? Or had he been shielding it from her until now? The power danced over her skin, a constant reminder that he wasn’t like other men.
She pushed him down on the sofa, then straddled his thighs.
He arched one brow, a faint smile playing over his lips, as she unbuttoned his shirt, then ran her fingertips over his chest and belly.
“Careful now,” he warned.
“I’m tired of being careful.”
He raised himself up so she could remove his shirt.
“Hey,” he said when she tossed it on the floor. “That’s Armani.”
“I’ll buy you another one.” Her gaze moved over him in blatant appreciation. His shoulders were broad, his stomach ridged with muscle. She traced his biceps, explored the curly black hair on his chest, ran her fingertips along his waistline.