Night's Promise(85)

He hadn’t gone far when he sensed other predators nearby. Pausing, he searched the darkness. Three gray wolves stared back at him, their eyes glowing yellow in the moon’s light.

Hackles raised, the bigger of the three growled a warning.

Baring his fangs, Derek took a step forward, an answering growl rising in his own throat.

For a moment, he thought they would challenge him and he relished the idea of a fight, hoping it would release some of the tension building in him.

The big male growled again, then, as one, the three wolves turned tail and disappeared into the darkness.

Was it the vampire they feared, he wondered as he continued down the mountainside, or did they sense the werewolf trapped inside, struggling to get out?

He found his prey in a smoke-filled bar on a quiet street. Only the thought of Sheree kept him from tearing into the woman’s jugular and draining her dry.

Filled but not satisfied, he sent the woman away and returned home.

The castle was dark. Mara and Logan were in bed, but not asleep.

Edna and Pearl weren’t in the castle. Out hunting, perhaps?

Sheree was sleeping, but not in their room.

Frowning, Derek followed her scent up the stairs. He uttered a vile oath when he found her sleeping on a pile of blankets on the floor in one of the unfurnished bedrooms.

He picked her up, blankets and all, and carried her to his bedroom. Still half asleep, she murmured his name as she wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled against him.

Something melted inside him when she whispered, “Don’t go,” as he lowered her onto the mattress.

After tucking her under the covers, he tossed the other blankets aside.

“Derek?”

“I’m here.”

“Stay with me.”

He dragged his hand across his jaw; then, before he could talk himself out of it, he undressed and slid in beside her.

She scooted closer, one arm stretching over his belly, her head resting on his shoulder. She smelled of soap and shampoo. And woman. His woman.

Whispering, “I’m sorry,” into the wealth of her hair, he wrapped her in his arms. “Forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive.” She smiled at him in the darkness. “How could I be angry with you for being afraid you’ll hurt me?” She stroked his cheek. “Are you all right?”

He nodded. “Why were you sleeping on the floor in the other room?”

“This is where you take your rest. You didn’t seem to want to be with me. . . .”

“Sheree, love, I can rest anywhere. And I always want you with me, even when I should know better.”

“Are you thirsty?”

“I fed.”

“Was it enough?”

He closed his eyes, trying to resist the urge to drink from her. His need made him feel weak, helpless. Hardly the way a man wanted to appear in the eyes of the woman he loved. He was a vampire, top of the food chain, almost indestructible, yet he was humbled by her love for him, and his need for her.

“It wasn’t enough, was it? You’re still thirsty.”

“Are you reading my mind now?” he muttered darkly.

“I don’t know, but I can feel your hunger.”

With a low groan, he took what she offered. The warmth of her life’s blood flowed through him, the sweetness of it soothing the raging beast inside.





Derek woke the next afternoon to find Sheree asleep, pressed close to his side. Frowning, he glanced at the window, surprised to find that he was awake and the sun was shining. He had always been able to be active when the sun was up, if necessary, but he rarely woke before the setting of the sun.

Lightly stroking Sheree’s hair, he wondered if it was yet another symptom of the changes taking place inside him.

Sheree stirred, yawned, and then rolled over, her eyes widening in surprise when she saw he was awake. “Is something wrong?”

“Not that I know of.”

“But . . .”

“How do you feel about making love in the daytime, wife?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never done it.”

He trailed his fingertips down her arm. “Would you like to give it a try?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Oh, just kiss me, you idiot!”

Muttering, “Don’t ask me twice,” he turned onto his side and pulled her body against his.

Before she knew it, her nightgown was on the floor.

“What fast hands you have, Mr. Blackwood.”

“The fastest.”

Tossing the covers aside, Sheree straddled his hips. She had never seen him fully naked in broad daylight. His skin was cool and smooth beneath her curious fingers, his muscles were well-defined, his chest lightly furred with soft, curly black hair.

He watched her through heavy-lidded eyes, content to let her explore to her heart’s content.