Night's Pleasure

Like Vampires, Werewolves seemed to be immune to aging and disease, but they could be killed by any wound that destroyed the heart or the brain. While there was only one way to become a Vampire, there were numerous ways to become a Werewolf, including being bitten, being cursed, or being born to a Werewolf. A person who was turned against his will wasn’t cursed until he tasted human blood, something few Werewolves, or Vampires, for that matter, could resist for long. Most Werewolves were compelled to change at the full moon, though there were some who could change at will.

As dawn approached, Rane went upstairs to check on Savanah, then walked through the house, making sure all the doors and windows were closed and locked and that the protective wards, meant to keep intruders out, were in place. When that was done, he carried the books downstairs to Mara’s lair and hid them under the mattress.

Undressing, he stretched out on her bed and closed his eyes. Thinking of Savanah, he cursed his lack of self-control where she was concerned.

Even now, her taste lingered on his tongue.

Even now, filled with guilt and remorse, he wanted her again.

It was early afternoon when Savanah awoke, the nightmare she had just had still vivid in her mind. Rane had been holding her in his arms, his eyes filled with anguish as he told her over and over again how sorry he was for what he had done. At first, she had been confused and then, with crystal clarity, she realized what he had done. He had made her what he was.

Muttering, “It was just a dream,” she sat up, stretching her arms over her head. It was then that she saw the dishes on the nightstand. Only then that she remembered what had happened the night before. Rane had taken her blood. He had promised to take just a taste, but he had taken more. How much more? Enough that he had been truly concerned. Had her nightmare been a vision of things to come? If he had taken too much, would he have worked the Dark Trick on her?

The thought sent a shiver of revulsion down her spine. She might be in love with a Vampire, but she had no desire to become one.

Rising, she showered and dressed, then carried the dirty dishes downstairs, rinsed them off, and put them in the dishwasher.

Even though it was well past time for lunch, she was in the mood for bacon, scrambled eggs, and toast.

She was sitting back in her chair, enjoying a cup of coffee, when Rane entered the room, his expression wary as he dropped into the chair across from hers.

His gaze moved over her, long and assessing. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m all right.”

“Are you sure?”

“Rane…”

He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “All right, you’re fine, but you could have been dead.”

“I know that. Don’t you think I know that?”

He dragged a hand through his hair. “Dammit, Savanah, I could have killed you.”

“But you didn’t. We’ll just have to be more careful in the future.” Seeing his expression, she leaned forward and placed her hand on his arm. “I’m a big girl. I know what I’m doing.”

He hoped she was right. “I need to rest a while,” he said. “I’ll see you later.”

“All right.” She smiled up at him. “Stop worrying about me.”

She lifted her face for his kiss, frowned thoughtfully as she watched him leave the room. Did he really need to rest, or was it just his way of avoiding her? If she asked to see where he rested, would he let her? She had never seen a Vampire’s lair. Of course, until she met Rane, she had never seen a Vampire, either.

Rising, she rinsed her dishes and put them in the dishwasher, then stood at the window, staring longingly at the pool.

A quick swim was just the ticket. After changing into her suit, she grabbed a book and headed for the door. An odd sensation prickled along her arms and her nape as she stepped over the threshold, almost as if she had passed some kind of invisible barrier.

Shrugging it off, she dropped the book on the table and dove into the deep end of the pool.

The water felt wonderful. She swam for ten minutes or so; then, stretching out on a chaise lounge, she read a book in the shade of an umbrella, rising now and then to dive into the cool water when the sun grew too warm. She dozed for a while, then went into the house to fix a sandwich and a glass of iced tea for an early dinner. She missed cooking for her father. He had always praised her culinary efforts, even when they went wrong. Smiling, she recalled the night she had prepared what she hoped would be an epicurean masterpiece; to her chagrin, it had turned out to be an utter disaster, fit only for the garbage disposal.

Later, sitting in the rec room watching a movie, she found herself continually glancing at the clock, wishing she could make the minutes go faster. The hours passed too slowly, the house seemed too empty, without Rane beside her.

She felt a thrill of excitement as the sun began to set. He would be with her soon.

The thought had no sooner crossed her mind than he was there. Just looking at him filled her with the kind of giddy excitement she hadn’t experienced since her first crush on a rock star years ago. Only, what she felt for Rane was far stronger and went far deeper.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Ready? For what?”

“Your first shooting lesson.”

“Oh.” She wrinkled her nose with distaste. “I don’t think I could shoot anyone.”

“It’s less messy than taking a head, or driving a stake through a Vampire heart.”

She blew out a sigh. “All right, let’s go get it over with.”

They went outside, where Rane set up three targets on the east side of the house. He handed her the gloves, loaded the gun while she pulled them on.

“All right,” he said, moving to stand behind her. “There’s nothing to it.” He put the gun in her hand and showed her how to hold it in a two-handed grip. “Don’t jerk the trigger. Just squeeze it gently.”

Taking a deep breath, Savanah aimed at the first target and squeezed the trigger.

“Not bad,” Rane said.

“Not good,” she muttered. “I barely hit the thing.”

“But you did hit it,” he said, giving her shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “Try again, and this time, keep both eyes open.”

To Savanah’s amazement, her aim quickly improved. By the time she had moved on to the third target, her shots were hitting the bull’s-eye nine times out of ten.

“You’re a natural,” Rane muttered. “Maybe it’s in your blood.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re a born hunter,” he said with a shrug.

“Maybe I am,” Savanah mused, remembering the letter her father had left her. “Did you know my mother was related to Abraham Van Helsing?”

“No, but it doesn’t surprise me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Not a thing, except that nothing much surprises me anymore, especially where you’re concerned.”

For the next thirty minutes, he had her practice shooting while she was kneeling, while she was flat on her back, and then while lying on her stomach. Next, he had her try her hand at shooting while she was walking, and then at a run.

“After all,” he explained, “you won’t always have the luxury or the time to stand still and take aim.”

By the time they quit two and a half hours later, Savanah felt like the revolver had become a part of her.

“Keep it nearby from now on,” Rane said, opening the back door for her.

In the kitchen, Savanah put the gun on the table, then went to the sink and washed her hands.

“I went by your house late last night,” Rane remarked as she dried her hands.

“Is everything okay?”

“Furniture’s a little dusty.”

She made a face at him. “Did you see anyone there?”

“No. Whoever was watching the place must have realized you’re gone.”

“When do you think I can go back home?”

“I don’t know. Probably not for a while. I guess you miss it.”

She thought about it a minute, then shook her head. “In a way, but it doesn’t seem like home anymore.”

How could it ever be home again, after what had happened there? She would never be able to walk through the front door without remembering that her father had been killed there, and in that moment, she knew that when this was all over, she would put the house up for sale.

“I need to call Mr. Van Black and see if I still have a job.” Not that she needed to work. Her father had left her well-off financially. Still, she needed something to do, something to give her life meaning. Something besides hunting Vampires.

“So, what shall we do this evening?” Rane asked.

“I don’t know.” Tossing the towel on the counter, she went into the living room and sat down. “Play cards? Watch a movie?”

“Or we could just neck here on the sofa,” Rane suggested, dropping down beside her. He took a deep breath, his nostrils filling with the now-familiar fragrance of her hair and skin. He could hear the beat of her heart, steady and strong, could smell the scent of her blood flowing quietly through her veins.

“That sounds nice,” Savanah said, snuggling closer. “What will we do if Mara comes home while we’re here?”

“Nothing. She won’t mind our being here, as long as you don’t try to take her head.”

Smiling, Savanah kissed his cheek, amused by the bizarre twist her life had taken. Only weeks ago, her days and nights had been boring and predictable. Now, everything had changed. Her father was gone. She had a Vampire for a lover, and she was on the run, hiding out in the home of the world’s oldest creature of the night. Yes, indeed, a strange twist of fate, one she might have welcomed if it hadn’t cost her father his life.

“You’re very quiet,” Rane said, lightly stroking her cheek.

“Nothing to say, I guess.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll find the one responsible for your father’s death.” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">