Night's Promise(50)

“Hey, it’s done. Let it go.”

“So Lou McDonald and her sister are dead?”

“For all I know, Edna and Pearl could be dead, too. I didn’t hang around to find out.”

“You would know if Edna had been destroyed.”

He shrugged. “Then she’s alive. Besides, didn’t you say you wanted to keep the two of them around for a while?”

“Yes, I did say that.” Mara shook her head. “I can’t believe those two meddlesome creatures took out the notorious McDonald sisters.”

“They had a little help, Ma,” Derek reminded her. “It’s me you should be thanking.”

“Thank you,” she said, her voice sugary sweet.

“That hunter wanted you awfully bad. I overheard her saying she was going to take you out or die trying.”

“Well, she should be happy then,” Mara said, grinning. “I just hope Edna and Pearl cleaned up the mess.”





Derek stalked the dark streets of Hollywood. His hunger, stirred to life by the scent of the hunter’s blood, rode him hard. He had no doubt that the two hunters were dead. Their screams had followed him out of the building. He had no sympathy for them. They came looking to destroy his mother and had met their own deaths, instead. Sometimes the good guys won. Sometimes they lost—although in this case, he wasn’t sure there were any good guys.

The scent of prey drew him toward an unsavory part of town where he found two drunks fighting over a bottle of rotgut. One of them was bleeding from a shallow cut across his cheek. Closing his eyes, Derek took a deep breath, hands clenching as the smell fueled his hellish thirst.

He could have killed both of the transients in an instant, but he was spoiling for a fight. With a cry, he waded into the battle. As expected, the two men quickly turned on him, their own disagreement forgotten in the face of a new threat.

Restraining his preternatural power, Derek fought both of them, relishing their punishing fists, although the pain was negligible. He didn’t try to avoid their blows; instead, he welcomed them. He was a monster. It was what he deserved. Until one of the men pulled a knife from the inside of his boot.

The weapon changed the game. Infused with new courage, the armed man lunged at Derek as the second man flung himself onto Derek’s back. Derek hissed when the blade buried itself to the hilt in his chest. It wasn’t a fatal strike, but it hurt like hell.

Snarling, Derek jerked the blade from his flesh and drove it into the man’s heart. The drunk reeled backward, then spiraled to the ground.

The man clinging to Derek’s back slid off and hit the street running.

Grunting with pain, Derek bent over the mortally wounded man.

He had never deliberately baited a human before. Never gone looking for a fight. Or enjoyed killing.

He glanced at the sky, wondering if his hunger and his anger had been sparked by the werewolf sleeping inside him.

Later, after disposing of the body, he wondered what Sheree would think if she could see him now, eyes burning, clothing splashed with blood.

Sheree. His need for her grew stronger with every passing hour.

What was she doing? His jaw clenched as he imagined her with other men—dancing, laughing, letting them steal a kiss or two. Did she ever think of him? Was she planning to come back to California, or had she decided to stay in Philadelphia and marry some puny mortal? He slammed his fist against a nearby wall. Why in hell had he let her go?

He strolled down Hollywood Boulevard, ignoring the come-ons of the streetwalkers, sidestepping a couple who’d had too much to drink.

How had he ever lived without Sheree? She had been away for a week and it seemed like years. He hadn’t realized just how empty his existence had been until she was no longer in it.

What would he do if she never came back?





Sheree smiled politely as an elderly man with snow-white hair asked her to dance. She would rather have refused, but since her parents were hosting the party, she was expected to dance with anyone who asked, and pretend she was having a good time.

She had been home for over two weeks, and it seemed like an eternity. Every day had been crammed with activities—an endless round of parties, dinners, charity auctions, and Sunday brunches. Ralph had proposed to her twice, Neil three times. And now her mother had ferreted out a new suitor, James van Horn, who made Ralph and Neil seem vastly appealing by comparison.

Waltzing around the floor with her elderly partner, Sheree decided she’d had enough. Tomorrow, she was booking a flight back to California. She missed her little house. She missed the California sunshine.

She missed Derek.

Relieved when the music ended, Sheree thanked her partner for the dance, and hastened out to the verandah for a few minutes alone.