Night's Promise(55)

The room, large and square, was dominated by a bed with red velvet hangings. A rosewood wardrobe—another antique—stood against one wall. A matching four-drawer chest flanked the bed. Sheree shook her head, thinking the castle held a small fortune in antiques.

After leaving the bedchamber, Sheree explored the rest of the second floor in hopes of finding a bathroom. She found five other bedrooms and a storage closet, but no lavatory.

When she returned to her own room, she spied a chamber pot under the bed. Had she not seen one in an antique store, she would never have known what it was.

Lack of sleep the night before, combined with Mara’s mode of transportation, had left Sheree feeling sleepy and disoriented—rather like a princess who had been taken from her own world and dropped into an unknown realm. Stretching out on the bed, she closed her eyes and hoped her own Prince Charming would arrive soon.





Derek glared at his mother. “Why in the hell did you bring Sheree here?” He had detected her unique scent the minute he set foot in the castle. “You know it’s dangerous for her to be near me right now. Putting some distance between us is one of the reasons I agreed to come here in the first place.”

“You told me yourself that she calms you, and that a few sips of her blood satisfies your thirst. I’m thinking a bit of her blood the night before the full moon will ease whatever transition takes place.”

Derek paced in front of the hearth. Maybe his mother was right. But what if she was wrong?

Logan cleared his throat, then pointed at the ice chests at his feet. “Where do you want this stuff?”

“In the kitchen,” Mara said, smiling. “Humans are a lot of trouble, aren’t they?”

Logan snorted. “At least she’s not pregnant!”

Mara sent him a look that could curdle milk. “Very funny.”

“I thought so.” Lifting a chest in each hand, he headed for the kitchen.

Frowning, Derek stared after Logan, his mind suddenly filling with images of Sheree holding his child. It was impossible, of course, something he had never contemplated. But for the first time in his existence, he regretted the fact that he would never sire a child.

“Now might be a good time for you to go out and get the lay of the land,” Mara suggested. “Mark your territory, so to speak.”

Nodding, Derek left the house.

The castle stood atop a mountain above the tree line. Standing in the lee of the building, he swept his gaze over the land below. It took only minutes to locate and identify every living creature within miles: wolves, foxes, wild boar, deer. Farther down the mountain, near the village, he identified sheep, goats, cows, and horses.

Flexing his muscles, he began to run along an old deer trail lined with trees and shrubs. Now and then, he heard a rustle in the underbrush as animals scurried out of his path. And suddenly he was in predator mode, his nostrils sifting through the myriad scents in the night for prey, human or otherwise.

When a wild boar broke from cover, Derek let out a shout and gave chase. Moments later, his thirst satisfied, Derek jogged back up the mountain.

He made it inside just as the sun broke through the clouds.

His last thought before he tumbled into oblivion was that he would see Sheree when he woke.





Sheree woke with a start. Jackknifing into a sitting position, she glanced around the room, momentarily disoriented. Where was she? Grabbing her robe, she hurried toward the door, then blew out a sigh as memory returned. She was in a castle in Transylvania.

Mara’s castle.

Sheree moved into the hallway, then paused. The house was deathly quiet, she thought, and grinned. Of course it was. She was the only living creature in the place.

She glanced up and down the narrow corridor. Did the vampires trust her enough to take their rest behind those closed doors? Or were they tucked in their coffins down in the dungeon?

The thought made her laugh. She doubted if she could destroy Mara even if she wanted to.

Belting her robe around her waist, she started down the stairs, wondering if Derek had arrived. And even as the thought crossed her mind, she knew he was there, sleeping in one of the rooms above.

Turning on her heels, she ran up the staircase, some inner GPS guiding her down the hallway to the last room on the left. She paused, one hand on the door. Was it locked? But no, it swung open at her touch and she tiptoed inside.

Heavy draperies shut out the morning light. Derek slept on his back, one arm above his head, the other across his waist. His hair was like a splash of black ink across the white pillowcase. A sheet covered him from the waist down.

He was amazingly gorgeous in repose.

Would he wake if she stretched out beside him? Would he be glad to see her, or angry that she had invaded his privacy while he slept?