He slid a glance at her, his gaze drawn to the pulse throbbing in her throat. Like it? Right now, with the low thrum of her heartbeat whispering in his ears and her scent filling his nostrils, he couldn't think of anything else.
"Roshan?" She glanced at him, her hands tightening on the wheel when she saw the direction of his gaze.
Knowing his eyes were probably glowing and red, he jerked his gaze away. A moment later, he grabbed control of the wheel as the car started drifting toward the ditch along the side of the road.
"Dammit, girl, if you want to drive, you have to watch where you're going!"
Pulling the car to a stop, he switched off the ignition. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shout at you."
"Your eyes," she whispered. "They were red… and… and glowing."
He nodded, his hands clenching at his sides, his whole body tense, reminding her of the way Morgana looked before she pounced on an unwary bird. "You were thinking of… of drinking from me." He didn't deny it. Without moving, she seemed to recoil from him.
He could hear the fierce beating of her heart, smell the fear rising from her in waves as the realization that she was alone on a dark road with a vampire struck her anew. In spite of all his assurances that she had nothing to fear, she was still afraid of him. Well, who could blame her? In spite of all his assurances to the contrary, she was right to be afraid.
He blew out a deep breath, tamping down the urge to draw her into his arms, to run his tongue over her skin, to taste of her sweetness. Just one drink to turn away the hunger…
As if sensing his thoughts, she pressed herself against the car door, her eyes wide and frightened.
"Can you find your way home?" he asked.
She nodded, her expression wary. "I think so."
"Good. I'll meet you there." In a single fluid movement, he was out of the car and striding away into the darkness. Brenna stared after him. How long would he be able to resist the urge to drink her blood? How long before he gave in to the hunger that simmered below the surface?
She sat there for several minutes before she felt calm enough to drive home.
Roshan stormed through the night, his anger trailing behind him like thick black smoke. He should let her go. Send her away. Now, before it was too late.
Before he took what he wanted so desperately, needed so badly. He knew, deep inside, that the one small taste he'd had would never be enough. If he drained every mortal he hunted from now until the end of eternity, he would still hunger for one more taste of Brenna's sweetness. And yet, right or wrong, he couldn't help feeling that this woman had been destined to be his since the beginning of time, that the only reason he had been able to travel through time to find her was because she was meant to be his.
He was waiting at the open gate when she drove up. She slowed, her gaze meeting his through the windshield, and then she continued up the driveway. A thought took him to the front of the house.
He was there to open the car door for her when she switched off the ignition. She stared at him a moment, then took his hand and let him help her out of the car.
Wordlessly, he took the keys from her hand. Unlocking the trunk, he picked up the grocery bags and carried them into the house.
Brenna followed a few moments later, carrying the bag that had been in the backseat.
"Is that everything?" he asked.
She nodded as she set the bag on the counter.
Roshan stood in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest while he watched her put away the groceries and paper goods. To his surprise, she moved around the kitchen as though she had lived in the house for months instead of a few weeks. Morgana sat on one of the kitchen chairs, regarding him warily, as always.
Brenna spared him hardly a glance as she moved around the kitchen but he knew she was as aware of his presence as he was of hers.
Finally, she whirled around, her eyes narrowed, her hands fisted on her hips. "Do you have to stare at me like that?"
She grimaced when he murmured an apology that he didn't mean.
Desire pulsed between them, charging the air, bringing a flush to her cheeks. She knew he wanted her. His need was almost tangible. He stood there, his hands tightly clenched at his sides, his eyes dark, burning with hunger. But hunger for what? Her blood? Or something equally dear? She didn't know which prospect was more frightening, the thought of satisfying his dark hunger or sharing his bed.
Crossing her arms over her br**sts, she cast about for something to say, anything that would break the tension in the air.
"I want to know how to open the gates." She blurted the words, felt the back of her neck grow hot at the knowing look in his eyes.
He lifted one brow. "Going somewhere?"
"What if I said yes? Would you let me go?"
"Is that what you want? To leave here?" The words, to leave me, hung unspoken in the air between them.
"Yes. No. I don't know. All I know is that I'm tired of being locked behind these walls day in and day out like some kind of cloistered nun."
He grinned. She was the most unlikely-looking nun he had ever seen, with her long red hair falling over her shoulders like a crimson waterfall and her eyes blazing with righteous anger.
Her eyes narrowed. "Do you ever intend to let me go?"
He didn't want to, even though he knew it was for the best. Better to end it now before he did something they would both regret. All that aside, he realized it was unfair of him to keep her imprisoned here against her will. He had taught her what she needed to know to survive in her new environment. The rest was up to her. Even if she decided to leave here, leave him, he would always be able to find her. The tiny bit of blood he had taken would guide him to her no matter where she might be.
Reaching into his pants pocket, he withdrew the keys to the Ferrari and placed them in her hand. "I'll remove the wards from the gate before I take my rest." Rising on tiptoe, she kissed his cheek.
"Thank you."
He nodded, wondering if, once she was away from here, from him, she would ever come back.
CHAPTER 9
The atmosphere between the two of them was strained the rest of the evening.
Roshan went into the living room and turned on the television. He lit a fire in the hearth, then sank back in his favorite chair, his gaze fixed on the flames, oddly discomfited by the thought that she would leave and not return, even though he knew it would be for the best. He had nothing to offer her; he couldn't even guarantee her safety.
He drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. He had accomplished his goal. He had found Brenna Flanagan and saved her from death at the stake. And now, to his astonishment, he found that he was in danger of falling in love with the lady. He had already grown accustomed to her presence in his house, to knowing she would be there when he woke. Lately, lying in his lair as the rising sun edged over the horizon to sweep night's dark cloak from the sky, the last thing he was aware of before he tumbled into the Dark Sleep was the soothing sound of Brenna's heartbeat.