He thought of the hours he had spent as a werewolf. He had reveled in his strength and power, in the knowledge that he was almost indestructible. Left alone, he would have felt no guilt at all had he killed the farmer and his family. Guilt and remorse were foreign to the werewolf. Only Sheree’s voice, declaring that she was waiting for him, that she would hate him if he killed the man, had kept him from tearing the farmer to pieces.
What if that primal urge to rend human flesh overpowered him while they were making love? The werewolf might not feel guilt, but hurting Sheree would destroy the vampire.
He thought of the serum the two old women were concocting and prayed that it would make him wholly mortal, that he would be able to share his entire life with Sheree, give her children. The thought of being susceptible to disease—and death—was far less appealing. He liked the power being a vampire gave him—the physical strength, the invincibility, the preternatural senses that allowed him to see and hear things denied to humans.
Standing under the stars, he gazed out over the valley. If he was totally honest with himself, he didn’t want to be human, but it was a sacrifice he was willing to make for the woman he loved. Yet if he could persuade her to accept the Dark Gift, they could have centuries together instead of the few short years allotted to mankind.
For one brief moment, he considered turning her while she slept, then quickly shook the thought away. Becoming a vampire would have to be her choice. All he needed to do was find a way to convince her.
“Just turn her,” said a familiar voice from behind him.
“The way you turned Logan?” Derek asked, swinging around to face his mother. “Did he ever hate you for it?”
“If he did, he never said so.”
“And if he had?”
Mara made a gesture of dismissal. “Why worry about something that never happened? He loved me before I turned him. He loves me now. Why fret over the past?”
“And what if I turn Sheree and she hates me for it? I’ll have ruined her life and my own.”
“Your conscience is your one weakness, you know. You have a sense of right and wrong a priest would be proud of.” Mara smiled wistfully. “As did your father. Come,” she said, linking her arm with his, “I’m hungry and the night is still young.”
Derek felt no need to feed, but, as always, he couldn’t refuse his mother’s invitation, or the chance to watch her hunt. Even after centuries, she found pleasure in finding and stalking her prey, sometimes with as much cunning and stealth as a lioness, sometimes striking with the quick precision of a cobra.
They hunted the dark streets of the city until she found someone to her liking: a strong young man staggering home from the local pub.
Derek watched as she worked her vampire magic on him, slowly seducing him until he would have given her anything she asked, and then she took what she needed. She fed quickly, gave him an affectionate pat on the cheek before wiping her memory from his mind, and sent him happily on his way, none the wiser.
Derek had to admire her skill.
“Was he not to your liking?” she asked when the man was out of sight. “If not, I’m sure we can find a pretty young thing who’s more to your taste.”
Derek shook his head. Drinking from another woman felt wrong, like cheating on Sheree.
Mara clucked softly. “A few drops of her blood may satisfy your craving, but it isn’t enough to sustain you indefinitely.”
He said nothing, but he knew she was right. Sooner or later, he needed to feed, and he would have to take more than Sheree could spare. Much more.
Walking back the way they had come, he mesmerized a young couple strolling down the street. He drank from them both before sending them on their way. Their blood was neither as satisfying nor as sweet as Sheree’s, but he felt better immediately.
Like it or not, his mother had been right again.
She laughed softly as they crossed the street. “I’m always right. Haven’t you learned that yet?”
When they returned to the castle, Logan was waiting for them. Mara kissed Derek soundly on the cheek; then, with a come-hither smile to her husband, she went upstairs to get ready for bed.
Logan would have followed, but Derek asked him to stay.
“What do you need?” Logan asked, resuming his place on the sofa.
“Did you ever hate my mother for turning you against your will?”
“No. I would have done anything, given up anything I had, to be with her. Why?”
“She thinks I should turn Sheree.”
“It’s a terrible thing to do to someone,” Logan remarked. “You’re not only stealing their life, but everything they know, everything they love.”