“An awful prude,” I repeated with a sigh.
“No, I think you're a woman who knows what she wants and won't settle for less.”
I wished he was right. I wasn't sure what I wanted. One day I wanted Rafe more than anything in the world, the next I was swamped by doubts. Could a big-city girl find lasting happiness in a small town? Could a mortal woman be truly happy with a Vampire? Tune in tomorrow, same time, same channel.
Rafe's fingertips lightly stroked back and forth across my brow. “Go to sleep, Kathy. You don't have to decide anything tonight.”
“I hate it when you do that,” I murmured.
“Sorry, love.”
“Love…I do love you, you know….”
His lips brushed my cheek, light as butterfly wings. “I know.”
His words, and the sweep of his lips on mine, lulled me to sleep.
Chapter Twenty-One
Rafe held Kathy close to his side. As always, her nearness was both pleasure and pain. Her skin was like smooth satin beneath his fingertips, her breasts were warm and softly rounded, tempting him almost beyond his ability to resist. The lingering fragrance of her perfume teased his nostrils, the scent of her blood aroused all his senses.
So easy to take her, to make her his, to make her what he was. So easy…if he didn't mind incurring her hatred, perhaps for however long he lived. Ah, but what a beautiful Vampire she would make, forever young, forever his….
He shook the thought from his mind. She was smart not to get too involved with him. The world was turning, changing. The war between his kind and the Werewolves had jolted humanity out of its lethargy. He was amazed at how swiftly they had recognized the danger, how quickly they were responding, recruiting hunters, destroying Vampires and Werewolves alike. He wondered if the hotheads who had started the war were still alive, if they realized the full extent of what their folly might cost, or if Mara and Clive had hunted them down and destroyed them before they could cause any more trouble.
He recalled what Mara had said about humans finding a cure for the Werewolves. How like humankind, to assume the Werewolves wanted to be cured. And what of his kind? If he had a choice, would he want to be mortal again?
He caressed Kathy's cheek. She loved him, but would she ever be able to accept him as he was? If it meant being with her, he would willingly embrace being mortal again if such a thing were possible, and yet, how much better if she would accept the Dark Gift. Instead of sixty or seventy years together, they could have centuries.
But it was a moot point at best, at least for now.
He thought of Joe Cagin and Susie McGee. Though Cagin was a shape-shifter and Susie a Werewolf, they had a far better chance of making a life together than did a mortal and a Vampire.
He grunted thoughtfully. Perhaps he should ask Mara to share her blood with him. For all intents and purposes, his parents and grandparents seemed to be nearly human again. They still needed blood to survive, though not as much as ordinary Vampires and not as often. The sun no longer had any power over them; they could rest by day or by night.
But before he could contemplate any kind of life with Kathy, he had to make sure that the war between the Vampires and the Werewolves was over once and for all. He wondered if the Supernatural creatures understood that their only hope of survival was to disappear for a while, to lull the human world into believing that life had returned to normal, that the Supernatural creatures were no longer a threat to their way of life, or to their existence. Once there was peace between the Supernatural community, once mortals assumed that they were again in control of their world, that would be the time to pursue his feelings for the woman sleeping at his side.
Rafe stayed with Kathy until the first pink glow of dawn lit the sky. After dropping a kiss on her cheek, he left her house, quietly cursing himself for staying so long. Though he could be active during the day, he was not yet immune to the effects of the sun's light. He ran to his car, felt the sun's rays burn through the back of his shirt as he opened the door and flung himself behind the wheel. Grabbing his sunglasses, he put them on and raced the rising sun toward his lair.
Reaching home, he drove into the garage and closed the door behind him. Removing his sunglasses, he got out of the car and went into the house.
He stood inside for a moment, waiting for the blistering pain to pass, and then, blowing out a deep breath, he made his way to the room where he spent the daylight hours. There were no lights in this room, only blessed darkness, a king-size bed, a small satellite screen, and a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf crammed with books—mostly murder mysteries.
But he was in no mood to watch the news or lose himself in another Montgomery mystery. At the moment, he had far more pressing matters to think about. Although the war between the Supernatural creatures was virtually over, another battle loomed on the horizon, this one bigger and perhaps more ferocious than the one between the Werewolves and the Vampires had been. The Supernatural creatures hadn't been fighting to exterminate one another, only to see who would reign supreme. Thanks to Mara and Clive, they would be fighting on the same side now, fighting for their survival. The Werewolves would carry the battle during the day, the Vampires after dark.
The first task would be to locate the hunters and neutralize them, which would be no easy task, since no one knew exactly how many there were. The Werewolves and the Vampires could work on that together, he thought, perhaps in pairs. The Werewolves could locate the hunters during the day, the Vampires could catch them unawares at night and erase the desire to destroy Supernatural creatures from their minds. Clive was of the opinion that the hunters should be killed, but Mara had been against that, arguing that murdering them would only stir up more trouble. The second task would be to find out if talk of a cure was true, and if so, what effect it would have on the Werewolves and the Vampires. The shape-shifters would no doubt be immune. Since they were born, not made, there was nothing to cure.
Rafe stripped down to his briefs and slid beneath the quilt his grandmother the witch had made for him when he was still in his teens. She had sewn it with needle and thread and love, and imbued it with a touch of magic to keep his bad dreams at bay.
It embarrassed him now to remember that he had once been plagued by nightmares. Or daymares, he thought ruefully, since he slept when the sun was up. The dream had begun shortly after his thirteenth birthday. Every day, the same dream. He was walking down a dark street, searching for prey, and then he would see her, a woman with long blond hair. He approached her from the back, lifted her hair from her neck to drink. And then, to his horror, he was unable to stop. He took it all, her blood, her thoughts, her memories, and then he opened the vein in his wrist and poured it all back into her. When the deed was done, she looked at him through eyes as red as hellfire, and then she buried her fangs in his throat and drained him dry, until only a withered, empty husk remained. Helpless, he lay there, writhing in agony as he waited for the sun's light to find him.
He had never told anyone about his dream until, without meaning to, he had mentioned it to his grandmother. The quilt had been on his bed the next day. He had never had that dream again.
Kathy's image rose in his mind and with it, as sharp as a dagger, the realization that her hair was the same golden color as that of the woman in his nightmare.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The rumble of thunder woke me. I shivered, thinking it sounded ominous somehow, then chided myself for letting my imagination get the best of me. It was just thunder.
Rising, I showered, dressed, ate breakfast, and went to work.
It was still raining when I opened the shop. Thinking that I probably wouldn't have much business if the downpour continued, I booted up my computer and read my e-mail. Nothing particularly exciting—a lot of jokes I had received a dozen times before, the usual amount of spam. I shook my head in disgust. With all the advances in technology, you'd think they could do something about unwanted e-mail from companies offering everything from male enhancement to get-rich-quick schemes. I loved the ones from supposed foreigners who were willing to split millions of dollars with me if I would just give them access to my bank account. Like that was ever going to happen!
I looked up as the bell over the door rang, surprised to see Travis Jackson enter the store. Rain dripped from his hat and the hem of his coat. Belatedly, I realized I should have put down some rugs or towels so I wouldn't have to mop the floor every time somebody came into the shop, although, up until now, it hadn't been a problem.
Travis smiled as he sauntered toward me. There was something decidedly smug in his expression. I wondered if he had spent the previous night destroying the Undead.
“Afternoon, Kathy,” he said cheerfully.
“Hi.” I had to force myself to be civil to the man. I didn't want him wondering why my attitude toward him had changed, didn't want him asking questions I didn't want to answer. “What brings you out on a day like this?”
“I figured you wouldn't have much business, and I thought maybe you'd like to go out for a cup of coffee.”
“I don't think so.” I had no desire to spend time with a man who had cheerfully offered to kill Susie if her husband wasn't up to the job.
“Come on,” Travis coaxed. “It's just a cup of coffee.”
Since I couldn't tell him why I didn't want to have coffee with him, I needed a good excuse. I just wished I had one. “I'm sorry, I can't,” I said. “I'm…I'm expecting an important phone call from…from one of the major book distributors back east.”
He didn't believe me; I could see it in the sudden narrowing of his eyes.
“There was a mix-up in one of my orders,” I said, making things up as I went along. “I need to get it resolved right away, you know, and with the time difference between here and New York…” I shrugged. “You know how it is.”
He grunted softly. “Yeah, sure, maybe I'll see you later.”
The tone of his voice sent an icy chill down my spine.
I breathed a sigh of relief when he left, bemused by the realization that if it came to a choice between spending time with Travis Jackson or with the Supernatural community, I felt safer on the dark side with the Vampires and the Werewolves.