With a sigh of resignation, she rolled up her sleeve and held out her arm. She turned her head, her gaze fixed on the werewolf, while the vampire siphoned her blood.
She fought a hysterical urge to laugh as she wondered if her life could get any more bizarre.
With the coming of dawn, the werewolf retreated. By then, everyone else had gone to bed.
For no apparent reason, transforming from werewolf to vampire was less painful, though it left him aching from head to foot.
Derek washed up in the kitchen sink, then went to his room and pulled on a pair of sweatpants before making his way to Sheree’s chamber.
Stepping inside, he closed the door behind him. An indrawn breath told him she was only pretending to be asleep.
“Do you want me to leave?”
Her excitement and trepidation were evident in the sudden quickening of her heart and the faint tinge of fear on her skin.
He was about to leave when she scooted over, drawing back the bed covers in silent invitation.
He hesitated a moment before sliding in beside her, though he was careful not to touch her. Tension stretched between them.
“I want to thank you for what you did,” he said quietly. “If it wasn’t for you, that man would be dead now, and I . . .”
Her hand, small and warm, found his. “Was it terrible?”
“There aren’t words to describe it. I knew what I was doing but I couldn’t stop myself. I looked at that tiny infant and all I could think about was ripping it to shreds.” He choked back a sob. “If I’d killed that baby . . .” Even when he’d been a new vampire, he had never been out of control, never been tempted to do anything as vile as kill an infant or a child.
“Derek, don’t think about it. It’s over for now. I just know the old ladies’ serum will work and . . .”
“And I’ll still be a vampire and you’ll still be . . .”
“The woman in love with you.”
His anguish was palpable, her need to comfort him overpowering. Whispering his name, she drew him into her embrace, one hand stroking his hair.
His arms went around her. Murmuring her name, he buried his face in her hair. “Hold me.”
“I’m here.” She could feel him trembling, knew he was appalled by the events of the night.
“Don’t let me go.”
“I won’t. There now, everything is all right. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”
Slipping a hand behind her head, he drew her closer, his gaze searching hers.
Her name was a groan on his lips as his mouth sought hers in a kiss filled with desire and a desperate need to blot everything from his mind but the woman in his arms.
“Sheree . . .”
“I know,” she whispered. “I know.” She turned her head to the side, granting him access to her neck.
It wasn’t hunger that drove him now, but a deep-seated need to draw her essence into himself, as if he could absorb her goodness along with the sweet taste of her life’s blood.
Sheree’s hands drifted over his body, arousing his desire and her own as her fingers explored his back, the indentation between his shoulders, the solid column of his neck, the silkiness of his hair.
When he drew back, she cupped his face in her hands and kissed him with all the yearning in her heart. He was a vampire, strong, invincible, and yet he needed her in ways that no other man ever would. He aroused a keen, protective instinct within her that she had never known she possessed. In that moment, she knew she would readily defend his life with her own, if necessary.
“My tigress,” he murmured, nipping at her earlobe.
“Reading my thoughts again, are you?” she asked with feigned anger.
A wicked grin was her answer.
Smiling in return, she filled her mind with images of the two of them wrapped in an erotic embrace, then purred, “What am I thinking now?”
“Sheree?” His voice was thick with desire. And doubt.
“Don’t you want me?”
“You know I do, but . . .”
“But you’re afraid you’ll hurt me.”
He nodded, his dark eyes haunted.
With a sigh, she kissed his cheek. If he could wait, so could she. She just hoped he wouldn’t make her wait too long.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Derek held Sheree in his arms until she fell asleep. Her love continued to astonish him. He wanted nothing more than to possess her fully, to make her his in the most primal way, but he didn’t trust himself not to hurt her. She might not be afraid, but he was scared enough for both of them. Except for that one night when he had almost taken too much, a little of her blood satisfied his hunger. Her nearness soothed him. But what if all that changed while they were making love? She was so fragile. He could break her in two without even trying. A few swallows too many and she could die in his arms. Was it just caution that was keeping him from making love to her until he was certain he had his hunger, his desire, and his werewolf under control? Or was something else holding him back? And if so, what the hell was it, except fear of hurting the woman he loved? He shook his head. Damned if he knew.