Night's Promise(61)

“You’re young, love. You’ve got lots of time to change your mind before you turn into that wrinkled old crone.”

“Oh!” Grabbing her pillow, she hit him over the head with it. His laughter only made her angrier and she hit him again and again, her anger gradually turning to laughter until he rolled her onto her back and rose over her. He wasn’t laughing now, and neither was she. His dark gray eyes were smoky with desire as he lowered his head and claimed her lips with his.

Wrapping her arms around his back, she pulled him down until his body covered hers. With a shock, she realized he was naked save for a pair of black briefs that did nothing to disguise his gender or his burgeoning desire.

“Sheree . . .” His eyes flashed red and he groaned, the sound torn from the very depths of his being. “Tell me to stop before it’s too late.”

“Drink, my love,” she urged. “You’ll feel better if you do.”

He went still, his fingers tangled in her hair. She could feel the struggle within him as he fought to control his hunger and his desire. As much as he needed her blood, as satisfying as it might be, she knew that he regretted the necessity—that he was afraid she would think he saw her only as prey.

He whispered words of love in her ear but they weren’t needed. Lost in a blissful haze, she had no thought to deny him, didn’t care what he took as long as he didn’t leave her. After a moment, she felt the warmth of his tongue against her skin, followed by the touch of his fangs at her throat. She arched against him as pleasure flowed from his bite to the very center of her being.

She clutched his shoulders, heard his voice whisper, “Forgive me,” and then all thought was swept away in a tidal wave of such sensual pleasure she thought she might die of it.

Die. . . .

For a terrifying moment, the world went crimson. And then black.

“Sheree! Sheree! Dammit!”

Derek’s voice, laced with terror, called her from the abyss. With an effort, she swam back through layers of blackness to find him hovering over her, his brow furrowed, eyes shadowed with worry.

He hissed a sigh of relief when she opened her eyes. “I thought . . .” He pulled her into his embrace, his face buried in her hair.

A moment later, Mara and Logan burst into the room.

“Derek, what have you done?” Mara demanded.

With a low growl, Derek grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around Sheree. “You know damn well what I did.” He stroked Sheree’s face. She was pale, so pale.

“Yes, I know. A little more and she would be dead now.”

Logan grabbed Mara’s hand and tugged her toward the door. “Let’s go,” he said gruffly. “We’re not needed here.”

Muttering, “She might not be so lucky next time,” Mara followed Logan into the hallway and closed the door.

“Why is your mother so upset?” Sheree asked.

Derek smoothed her hair away from her face. She was almost as white as the pillowcase. “I nearly took too much.”

Sheree blinked at him. Was that why she felt so light-headed? “I feel so strange, as if I could close my eyes and fly away.”

“You need nourishment. Come on.” Taking her by the hand, he helped her stand, then swept her into his arms and quickly carried her down the stairs.

In the kitchen, he set her on a chair, then reached into one of the ice chests and withdrew a chilled bottle of orange juice. After filling a glass, he handed it to her. “Drink,” he commanded. “All of it.”

When she drained it in only a few swallows, he filled it again. And then again.

“No more.” Shaking her head, Sheree put the glass on the table.

Derek’s gaze moved over her face, noting her color had returned. Another few minutes, he thought bleakly, and he would have killed her.

“I’m fine,” she said, seeing the worry in his eyes.

“Are you? I could have drained you dry!”

“I trust you,” she murmured, cupping his cheek in her palm.

“I only hope that trust doesn’t get you killed.”





Derek carried Sheree back to bed, stayed with her until she fell asleep, then went into the living room. Logan was stretched out on one of the sofas, ankles crossed, arms folded behind his head.

Mara paced the floor in front of the fireplace, her quickened steps the first clue that something was bothering her.

“What’s going on?” Derek asked, sitting on the other sofa.

“Edna and Pearl,” Logan answered.

Derek arched one brow. “What about them?”

“They’re here!” Mara said. “Why the devil are they following us?”

Logan snorted. “Why do you think? The full moon is only two nights away. I’m guessing they don’t want to miss the show.”