Night's Promise(64)

“Not really. But after I turned thirteen, I missed having friends. I couldn’t play outdoors after that and gradually I stopped hanging out with them because it was too hard to explain why I couldn’t go outside, and why I couldn’t grab a hamburger on a Saturday afternoon, or spend the day surfing.”

“What about girls?”

He snorted softly. He had never had any trouble in that department. “Dating was easier in some ways. There wasn’t anything unusual about taking in a late movie or going for a walk along the beach after sunset. Things like that. But I never saw the same girl more than two or three times. It was just too hard to hide what I was, to keep coming up with excuses for why I couldn’t take them out for an afternoon at the beach or come over for Sunday dinner, or take in a matinee.”

Sheree shifted in the chair, thinking he must have had a lonely childhood. How awful, to have to hide who you were, to always be on your guard.

“It wasn’t all bad,” Derek remarked. “My family spoiled me, too, in their way. I got to do most of the things boys like to do, like hunting and fishing, only we did our hunting and fishing after dark. Logan taught me to wrestle and play baseball, and he took me rock climbing and hiking. . . .” His voice trailed off as his hands clenched at his sides.

“What is it?” Sheree asked. “What’s happening?”

“I can feel the werewolf in me trying to get out.”

“That’s not supposed to happen until tomorrow night, is it?”

“Who the hell knows?” He raked his fingers through his hair, then stood and began pacing the floor, the thick chain rattling with every step.

Rising, Sheree folded her hands around the bars. “Derek, drink from me. Maybe it will help.”

He growled deep in his throat, and then, in a blur of movement, he was standing in front of her, one of her arms clutched in his hand, his head bent over her wrist.

As his fangs pierced her flesh, she gasped, surprised by the pain. It had never hurt before.

A low purr filled the air as he drank.

And drank.

Sheree closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, Mara was at her side.

“Derek,” his mother said sharply. “Let her go!”

He looked up, his eyes blood red. And then he snarled at her.

Mara dissolved into mist, then rematerialized inside the cell. Gripping her son’s arm, she stared into his eyes. “Let her go. Now.”

He obeyed instantly, then backed away from her.

A moment later, Mara was again at Sheree’s side. Eyes narrowed, she asked, “Are you all right?”

Sheree nodded, too afraid to answer lest she burst into tears. Once she recovered, she asked, “What’s going to happen to him?”

“I wish I knew. I brought you here because I thought your blood would soothe him, as it has in the past, but I was wrong. He’s losing control of himself, just as he feared he would. I think it might be better if you come upstairs.”

“Let her stay,” Derek said, his voice filled with guilt. “I need her.”

“Don’t be a fool. What do you think would have happened if I hadn’t stopped you?”

“Sheree,” he whispered. “Please stay.”

“I don’t advise it,” Mara said, “but the choice is yours. If you decide to stay, you have only to call me if you need me.”

“Thank you.”

With a last warning glance at her son, Mara left the dungeon.

Sheree sat in the chair again, watching as the red slowly faded from Derek’s eyes. He sank down on the floor, his back braced against the wall. She bit down on her lower lip, searching for something to say, some words of comfort, but nothing came to mind. She had clung to the hope that the full moon would come and go without incident, but it seemed a foolish hope, given what had just happened.

Sheree kept Derek company until the rising sun coaxed him to sleep. Exhausted, she went upstairs to bed, only to lie there, staring at the ceiling, wondering what the night would bring. It seemed a given that he would shift into a werewolf. She wished she knew more about such creatures, but the only information she had came from horror movies. They were compelled to change when the moon was full. They terrorized humans, often killing them in hideous ways. She had never believed in werewolves the way she believed in vampires. Now, it seemed werewolves were also real. If vampires and werewolves existed, why not all the monsters of myth and legend? Fairies and trolls, giants and elves, zombies and leprechauns and the invisible man!

Derek had said little last night, his thoughts obviously turned inward. She could only imagine what he was thinking, feeling. Being a vampire was bad enough, but at least that was something he knew, something he could control, at least most of the time. She knew what he feared was being out of control, that when he was a werewolf he would be a beast with no conscience, no memory of his humanity. That he would savage anything that crossed his path.